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 The Glenn Negley Collection 
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lEtidorhpai 
 
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 Etidorhpa 
 
 or 
 
 The End of Earth 
 
 ^ The End of Earth ^ 
 
 ^^ The Strange History of a Mysterious ^^^ 
 
 ^ Being and the Account of a ^ 
 
 ^ Remarkable 'Journey ^ 
 
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 ten rJy t//5 
 
 "^ JOHN URI LLOYD ::^ 
 
 rjryi Author o/* " Strlngtown on the Pike" ooo 
 
 tjon With many Illustrations by tjcn 
 
 ^ J. AUGUSTUS KNAPP <^ 
 
 '■-<TC gyys 
 
 ^ ELEVENTH EDITION ^ 
 
 j^oo Revised and Enlarged ooo 
 
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 "^ NEW YORK ::^- 
 
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 ^ Dodd, Mead & Company "^ 
 
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Copyright, 1895, by John Uri Lloyd. 
 
 Copyright, 1896, by John Uri Lloyd. 
 
 Copyright, 190 1, by Dodd, Mead and Company. 
 
UT2)?/M 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 This book, which has been aptly called "A 
 Novel of Mystery," was issued privately in 1895. 
 The discussions which followed led to successive 
 editions, the present being the eleventh. In this 
 edition chapters excluded from former editions 
 have been given a place, thus enlarging and mak- 
 ing the book complete. 
 
 It will be observed that Etidorhpa consists 
 not only of a story within a story, but that the 
 chapters in the latter part of the book are closely 
 connected with preceding incidents, thus bring- 
 ing to the reader's attention phases of thought 
 which might otherwise be overlooked or 
 neglected. 
 
 J. U. L. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XL 
 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 "My Purpose is to Tell the Truth" i 
 
 "Never Less Alone than When Alone". ... 4 
 
 A Friendly Conference 15 
 
 A Second Interview with the ^Mysterious 
 
 Visitor 24 
 
 A Search for Knowledge. — TheAlchemistic 
 
 Letter 35 
 
 The Writing of my Confession t,8 
 
 Kidnapped 40 
 
 A Wild Night — I am Prematurely Aged . . 49 
 
 A Lesson in Mind Study 58 
 
 I Cannot Establish my Identity 6^ 
 
 My Journey toward the End of the Earth 
 
 Begins. — The Adepts' Brotherhood. . . 70 
 
 My Journey Continues. — Instinct jy 
 
 A Cavern Discovered. — Bissell's Hill 82 
 
 The Punch-Bowls and Caverns of Ken- 
 tucky. — "Into the Unknown Country '. 87 
 Farewell to God's Sunshine — The Ecno of 
 
 the Cry 97 
 
 A Zone of Light Deep within the Earth. . . 102 
 
 The Fungus Forest. — Enchantment 107 
 
 The Cry from a Distance. — I Rebel Against 
 
 Continuing the Journey ill 
 
vi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE. 
 
 XIX. My Unbidden Guest, I-Am-The-Man, 
 
 Proves His Statement 114 
 
 XX. My Weight Disappearing 117 
 
 XXI. My Unbidden Guest Departs 123 
 
 XXII. The Mother of a Volcano.— "You Cannot 
 
 Disprove, and You Dare not Admit." 125 
 
 XXIII. Motion from Inherent Energy. — "Lead 
 
 Me Deeper into this Expanding 
 Study" 130 
 
 XXIV. Sleep, Dreams, Nightmare. — "Strangle 
 
 the Life from my Body" 137 
 
 XXV. A Challenge.— My Unbidden Guest Ac- 
 cepts it. — Looking Backward. — The 
 
 Living Brain 142 
 
 XXV^I. Primary Colors Are Capable of Further 
 
 Subdivision 152 
 
 XXVII. I Cease to Breathe, and Yet Live 157 
 
 XXVIII. "A Certain Point within a Sphere." — Men 
 are as Parasites on the Roof of the 
 
 Earth 162 
 
 XXIX. Drunkenness. — The Drinks of Man 167 
 
 XXX. The Drunkard's Voice 171 
 
 XXXI. The Drunkard's Den 173 
 
 XXXII. Among the Drunkards 181 
 
 XXXIII. Further Temptation — Etidorhpa 186 
 
 XXXIV. Misery 195 
 
 XXXV. Eternity without Time 206 
 
 XXXVI. The Fathomless Abyss. — The Edge of 
 
 the Earth Shell 211 
 
 XXXVII. My Heart-Throb is Stilled, and yet I 
 
 Live 213 
 
 XXXVIII. The Inner Circle, or the End of Gravita- 
 tion. — In the Bottomless Gulf 220 
 
 XXXIX. Hearing without Ears. — "What will be 
 
 the End?" 225 
 
Contents vii 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE. 
 
 XL. Oscillating through Space. — Earth's Shell 
 
 above me 231 
 
 XLI. My Weight Annihilated.— "Tell me," I 
 Cried in Alarm, "is this to be a Liv- 
 ing Tomb ?" 239 
 
 XLIL Is that a Mortal?— "The End of the 
 
 Earth" 244 
 
 XLIIL The Last Farewell 249 
 
 XLIV. A Search for Knowledge 259 
 
 XLV. Vitalized Darkness. — The Narrows in Sci- 
 ence 269 
 
 XLVL The Food of Man ^yj 
 
 XLVn. The Unbidden Guest Proves His State- 
 ment 282 
 
 XLVIIL I Question Scientific Men. — Aristotle's 
 
 Ether 289 
 
 XLIX. The Soliloquy of Professor Daniel 
 Vaughan. — "Gravitation is the Begin- 
 ning and Gravitation is the End : All 
 Earthly Bodies Yield to Gravitation". 294 
 
 L. A Challenge 298 
 
 LL Beware of Biology, the Science of the Life 
 
 of Man 305 
 
 LIL What would Happen if a Crevice Should 
 
 Open in the Ocean's Bottom 312 
 
 LHL Matter is Retarded Motion 319 
 
 LIV. "A Study of Science is a Study of God." — 
 
 Communing with Angels 325 
 
 LV. A Remarkable Contest 327 
 
 LVL Why and How 355 
 
 LVH. I Seek a Confidant 359 
 
 LVHL 'Tis not the Eye, but the Brain that Sees 
 
 an Object 363 
 
 LIX. The Vision of the Future of Science 372 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I-Am-The-Man Frontispiece 
 
 Fac-simile of the mysterious manuscript of I-Am-The-Man- 
 
 Who-Did-It 34 
 
 Map of Kentucky near entrance to cavern 83 
 
 "This struggling ray of sunlight is to be your last for years" 98 
 
 "I was in a forest of colossal fungi" 108 
 
 "Monstrous cubical crystals" 112 
 
 "I bounded upward fully six feet" 118 
 
 "We leaped over great inequalities" 120 
 
 "Far as the eye could reach the glassy barrier spread" 122 
 
 "We came to a metal boat" 128 
 
 "Facing the open window, he turned the pupils of his eyes 
 
 upward" 146 
 
 "A brain, a living brain, my own brain" 149 
 
 "We finally reached a precipitous bluff" 152 
 
 "The wall descended perpendicularly to seemingly infinite 
 
 depths" 156 
 
 "We would skip several rods, alighting gently" 158 
 
 "An uncontrollable, inexpressible desire to flee" 160 
 
 "I dropped on my knees before him" 165 
 
 "Handing me one of the halves, he spoke the single word, ) 
 
 'Drink' " V 174 
 
 "And each finger pointed toward the open way in front". . . ) 
 
 Etidorhpa 190 
 
 "In fear and trembling I crept on my knees to his side" 212 
 
 "He sprang from the edge of the cliff into the abyss below, 
 
 carrying me with him into its depths" 219 
 
 Diagram of the journey from the Kentucky cavern to the 
 
 "End of Earth" 230 
 
 The earth and its atmosphere 235 
 
 "I stood alone in my room, holding the mysterious manu- 
 script" 254 
 
 "Gravitation is the beginning and gravitation is the end ; all 
 
 earthly bodies kneel to gravitation" 294 
 
 "We passed through caverns filled with creeping reptiles". .. . 346 
 "Beautiful flowers and structures, gorgeous insects" 350 
 
THE STORY OF 
 
 ETIDORHPA 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "my purpose is to tell the truth." 
 
 My name was Johannes Llewellyn Llongollyn Drury. 
 I was named Llewellyn at my mother's desire, out of re- 
 spect to her father, Dr. Evan Llewellyn, the scientist and 
 speculative philosopher, well known to curious students 
 as the author of various rare works on occult subjects. 
 The other given names were ancestral also, but when I 
 reached the age of appreciation, they naturally became 
 distasteful ; so it is that in early youth I dropped the 
 first and third of these cumbersome words, and retained 
 only the second Christian name. While perhaps the 
 reader of these lines may regard this cognomen with less 
 favor than either of the others, still I liked it. as it was the 
 favorite of my mother, who always used the name in full ; 
 the world, however, contracted Llewellyn to Lew. nuich 
 to the distress of my dear mother, who felt aggrieved at 
 the liberty. After her death I decided to move to a 
 Western city, and also determined, out of respect to her 
 memory, to select from and rearrange the letters of mv 
 several names, and construct therefrom three short, terse 
 words, which would convey to myself only the resem- 
 blance of my former name. Hence it is that the Cin- 
 cinnati Directory does not record my name, which I have 
 no reason to bring before the public. Let it then pass as 
 Llewellyn Drury. I might add that my ancestors were 
 among the early settlers of what is now New York City, 
 
2 Etidorhpa 
 
 and were direct descendants of the early Welsh kings ; 
 but these matters do not concern the reader, and it is 
 not of them that I now choose to write. My object in 
 putting down these preliminary paragraphs is simply to 
 assure the reader of such facts, and such only, as ma}'- 
 give him confidence in my personal sincerity and re- 
 sponsibility, in order that he may with a right under- 
 standing read the remarkable statements that occur in 
 the succeeding chapters. 
 
 The story I am about to relate is very direct, and some 
 parts of it are very strange, not to say marvellous ; but 
 not on account of its strangeness alone do I ask for the 
 narrative a reading; — that were mere trifling. What is 
 here set down happened as recorded, but I shall not at- 
 tempt to explain things which even to myself are enigmat- 
 ical. Let the candid reader study the story as I have told 
 it, and make out of it what he can, or let him pass the page 
 by unread — I shall not insist on claiming his further 
 attention. Only, if he does read, I beg him to read with 
 an open mind, without prejudice and without predilec- 
 tion. 
 
 Who or what I am as a participant m this work is of 
 small importance. I mention my history only for the 
 sake of frankness and fairness. I have nothing to gain 
 by issuing the volume. Neither do I court praise nor 
 shun censure. My purpose is to tell the truth. 
 
 Early in the fifties I took up my residence in the 
 Queen City, and though a very young man, found the 
 employment ready that a friend had obtained for me 
 with a manufacturing firm engaged in a large and com- 
 plicated business. My duties were varied and peculiar, 
 of such a nature as to tax body and mind to the utmost, 
 and for several years I served in the most exacting oi 
 business details. Beside the labor which my vocation 
 entailed, with its manifold and multiform perplexities, I 
 voluntarily imposed upon myself other tasks, which I 
 pursued in the privacy of my own bachelor apartments. 
 An inherited love for books on abstruse and occult sub- 
 
" My Purpose is to Tell the Truth" 3 
 
 jects, probably in part the result o! my blood connection 
 with Dr. Evan Llewellyn, caused me to collect a unique 
 library, largely on mystical subjects, in which I took 
 the keenest delight. My business and professional 
 duties by day, and my studies at night, made my life a 
 busy one. 
 
 In the midst of my work and reading I encountered 
 the character whose strange story forms the essential 
 part of the following narrative. I may anticipate by say- 
 ing that the manuscript to follow only incidentally con- 
 cerns myself, and that if possible I would reUnquish all 
 connection therewith. It recites the physical, mental, 
 and moral adventures of one whose life history was 
 abruptly thrust upon my attention, and as abruptly inter- 
 rupted. The vicissitudes of his body and soul, circum- 
 stances seemed to compel me to learn and to make pub- 
 lic. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 "never less alone than when alone." 
 
 More than thirty years ago occurred the first of the 
 series of remarkable events I am now about to relate. 
 The exact date I cannot recall ; but it was November, and. 
 to those familiar with November weather in the Ohio 
 Valley, it is hardly necessary to state that the month is 
 one of possibilities. That is to say, it is liable to bring 
 every variety of weather, from the delicious, dreamy 
 Indian summer days that linger late in the fall, to a com- 
 bination of rain, hail, snow, sleet — in short, atmospheric 
 conditions sufficiently aggravating to develop a suicidal 
 mania in any one the least susceptible to such influences. 
 While the general character of the month is much the 
 same the country over — showing dull gray tones of sky, 
 abundant rains that penetrate man as they do the earth ; 
 cold, shifting winds, that search the very marrow — it is 
 always safe to count more or less upon the probability 
 of the unexpected throughout the month. 
 
 The particular day which ushered in the event about 
 to be chronicled was one of these possible heterogeneous 
 days presenting a combination of sunshine, shower, and 
 snow, with winds that rang all the changes from balmy to 
 blustery, a morning air of caloric and an evening of 
 numbing cold. The early morning started fair and 
 sunny ; later came light showers, suddenly switched by 
 shifting winds into blinding sleet, until the middle of the 
 afternoon found the four winds and all the elements com- 
 mingled in one wild orgy with clashing and roar- 
 ing as of a great organ with all the stops out, and all 
 the storm-fiends dancing over the key-boards ! Night- 
 fall brought some semblance of order to the sounding 
 chaos, but still kept up the wild music of a typical No- 
 
** Never Less Alone Than When Alone " 5 
 
 vember day, with every accompaniment of bleakness, 
 gloom, and desolation. 
 
 Thousands of chimneys, exhaling murky clouds of 
 bituminous soot all day, had covered the city with the 
 proverbial pall which the winds in their sport had shifted 
 hither and yon, but as, thoroughly tired out, they sub- 
 sided into silence, the smoky mesh suddenly settled over 
 the houses and into the streets, taking possession of the 
 city and contributing to the melancholy wretchedness 
 of such of the inhabitants as had to be out of doors. 
 Through this smoke the red sun when visible had 
 dragged his downward course in manifest discourage- 
 ment, and the hastening twilight soon gave place to the 
 blackness of darkness. Night reigned supreme. 
 
 Thirty years ago electric lighting was not in vogue, 
 and the system of street lamps was far less complete 
 than at present, although the gas burned in them may 
 not have been any worse. The lamps were much fewer 
 and farther between, and the light which they emitted 
 had a feeble, sickly aspect, and did not reach any dis- 
 tance into the moist and murky atmosphere. And so 
 the night was dismal enough, and the few people upon 
 the street were visible only as they passed directly be- 
 neath the lamps or in front of lighted windows ; seeming 
 at other times like moving shadows against a black 
 ground. 
 
 As I am like to be conspicuous in these pages, it may 
 be proper to say that I am very susceptible to atmospheric 
 influences. I figure among my friends as a man of quiet 
 disposition, but I am at times morose, although I en- 
 deavor to conceal this fact from others. My nervous 
 system is a sensitive weather-glass. Sometimes I fancy 
 that I must have been born under the planet Saturn, for 
 I find myself unpleasantly influenced by moods ascribed 
 to that depressing planet, more especially in its disagree- 
 able phases, for I regret to state that I do not find corre- 
 sponding elation, as I should, in its brighter aspects. 
 I have an especial dislike for wintry weather, a dislike 
 
6 Etidorhpa 
 
 which I find growing with my years, until it has devel- 
 oped almost into positive antipathy and dread. On the 
 day I have described my moods had varied with the 
 weather. The fitfulness of the winds had found its way 
 into my feelings, and the sombre tone of the clouds into 
 my meditations. I was restless as the elements, and a 
 deep sense of dissatisfaction with myself and everything 
 else possessed me. I could not content myself in any 
 place or position. Reading was distasteful, writing 
 equally so ; but it occurred to me that a brisk walk, for a 
 few blocks, might afford relief. Muffling myself up in 
 my overcoat and fur cap, I took the street, only to find 
 the air gusty and raw, and I gave up in still greater dis- 
 gust, and returning home, after drawing the curtains and 
 locking the doors, planted myself in front of a glowing 
 grate fire, firmly resolved to rid myself of myself bj re- 
 sorting to the oblivion of thought, revery or dream. To 
 sleep was impossible, and I sat moodily in an easy-chair, 
 noting the quarter and half-hour strokes as they were 
 chimed out sweetly from the spire of St. Peter's Cathe- 
 dral, a few blocks away. 
 
 Nine o'clock passed with its silver-voiced chime of 
 "Home, Sweet Home" ; ten, and then eleven strokes of the 
 ponderous bell which noted the hours, roused me to a 
 strenuous effort to shake off the feelings of despondency, 
 unrest, and turbulence, that all combined to produce a 
 state of mental and physical misery now insufferable. Ris- 
 ing suddenly from my chair, without a conscious effort I 
 walked mechanically to a book-case, seized a volume at 
 random, reseated myself before the fire, and opened the 
 book. It proved to be an odd, neglected volume, "Riley's 
 Dictionary of Latin Quotations." At the moment there 
 flashed upon me a conscious duality of existence. Had 
 the old book some mesmeric power? I seemed to myself 
 two persons, and I quickly said aloud, as if addressing 
 my double : "If I cannot quiet you, turbulent Spirit, I can 
 at least adapt myself to your condition. I will read this 
 book haphazard from bottom to top, or backward, if 
 
" Never Less Alone Than When Alone " 7 
 
 necessary, and if this does not change the subject often 
 enough. I will try Noah Webster." Opening the book 
 mechanically at page 297, I glanced at the bottom line 
 and read, ''Nnnquani minus solus quam cum solus" 
 (Never less alone than when alone). These w'ords ar- 
 rested my thoughts at once, as, by a singular chance, they 
 seemed to fit my mood ; was it or was it not some con- 
 scious invisible intelligence that caused me to select that 
 page, and brought the apothegm to my notice ? 
 
 Again, like a flash, came the consciousness of duality, 
 and I began to argue with my other self. "This is arrant 
 nonsense," I cried aloud ; "even though Cicero did say it, 
 and it is on a par with many other delusive maxims 
 that have for so many years embittered the existence 
 of our modern youth by misleading thought. Do you 
 know, Mr. Cicero, that this statement is not sound ? That 
 it is unworthy the position you occupy in history as a 
 thinker and philosopher? That it is a contradiction in 
 itself, for if a man is alone he is alone, and that set- 
 tles it?" 
 
 I mused in this vein a few moments, and then resumed 
 aloud : "It won't do, it won't do ; if one is alone — the word 
 is absolute — he is single, isolated, in short, alone ; and 
 there can by no manner of possibility be anyone else pres- 
 ent. Take myself, for instance ; I am the sole occupant 
 of this apartment ; I am alone, and yet you say in so many 
 words that I was never less alone than at this instant." 
 It was not without some misgiving that I uttered these 
 words, for the strange consciousness of my own duality 
 constantly grew stronger, and I could not shake ofif the re- 
 flection that even now there were two of myself in the 
 room, and that I was not so much alone as I endeavored 
 to convince myself. 
 
 This feeling oppressed me like an incubus ; I must 
 throw it ofif, and, rising, I tossed the book upon the table, 
 exclaiming : "What folly ! I am alone — positively there 
 is no other living thing visible or invisible in the room." 
 I hesitated as I spoke, for the strange, undefined sensa- 
 
8 Etidorhpa 
 
 tion that I was not alone had become ahnost a conviction ; 
 but the sound of my voice encouraged me, and I deter- 
 mined to discuss the subject, and I remarked in a full, 
 strong voice: "I am surely alone; I know I am! Why, 
 I will wager everything I possess, even to my soul, that 
 I am alone." I stood facing the smouldering embers of 
 the fire which I had neglected to replenish, uttering these 
 words to settle the controversy for good and all with one 
 person of my dual self, but the other ego seemed to dis- 
 sent violently, when a soft, clear voice claimed my ear : 
 
 "You have lost your wager ; you are not alone." 
 
 I turned instantly toward the direction of the sound, 
 and, to my amazement, saw a white-haired man seated on 
 the opposite side of the room, gazing at me with the 
 utmost composure. I am not a coward, nor a believer in 
 ghosts or illusions, and yet that sight froze me where I 
 stood. It had no supernatural appearance — on the con- 
 trary, was a plain, ordinary, flesh-and-blood man ; but 
 the weather, the experiences of the day. the weird, in- 
 clement night, had all conspired to strain my nerves to the 
 highest point of tension, and I trembled from head to 
 foot. Noting this, the stranger said pleasantly : "Quiet 
 yourself, my dear sir ; you have nothing to fear ; be 
 seated." I obeyed mechanically, and regaining in a few 
 moments some semblance of composure, took a mental 
 inventory of my visitor. Who is he? What is he? how 
 did he enter without my notice, and why? what is his busi- 
 ness? were all questions that flashed into my mind in 
 quick succession, and quickly flashed out unanswered. 
 
 The stranger sat eyeing me composedly, even pleas- 
 antly, as if waiting for me to reach some conclusion re- 
 garding himself. At last I surmised: "He is a maniac 
 who has found his way here by methods peculiar to the 
 insane, and my personal safety demands that I use him 
 discreetly." 
 
 "Very good," he remarked, as though reading my 
 thoughts ; "as well think that as anything else." 
 
" Never Less Alone Than When Alone " 9 
 
 "But why are you here? What is your business?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "You have made and lost a wager," he said. "You 
 have committed an act of folly in making positive state- 
 ments regarding a matter about which you know nothing 
 — a very common failing, by the way, on the part of 
 mankind, and concerning which I wish first to set you 
 straight." 
 
 The ironical coolness with which he said this pro- 
 voked me, and I hastily rejoined : "You are impertinent ; 
 I must ask you to leave my house at once." 
 
 "\^ery well," he answered ; "but if you insist upon this, 
 I shall, on behalf of Cicero, claim the stake of your volun- 
 tary wager, which means that I must first, by natural 
 though violent means, release your soul from your body." 
 vSo saying he arose, drew from an inner pocket a long, keen 
 knife, the blade of which quiveringly glistened as he laid 
 it upon the table. Moving his chair so as to be within 
 easy reach of the gleaming weapon, he sat down, and 
 again regarded me wath the same quiet composure I 
 had noted, and which was fast dispelling my first im- 
 pression regarding his sanity. 
 
 I was not prepared for his strange action ; in truth, I 
 was not prepared for anything ; my mind was confused 
 concerning the whole night's doings, and I was unable 
 to reason clearly or consecutively, or even to satisfy my- 
 self as to what I did think, if indeed I thought at all. 
 
 The sensation of fear, however, was fast leaving me ; 
 there was something reassuring in my unbidden guest's 
 perfect ease of manner, and the mild, though searching 
 gaze of his eyes, which were wonderful in their expres- 
 sion. I began to observe his personal characteristics, 
 which impressed me favorably, and yet were extraor- 
 dinary. He seemed nearly six feet tall, and perfectly 
 straight : well proportioned, with no tendency either to 
 leanness or obesity. But his head was an object from 
 which I could not take my eyes — such a head surely I had 
 
lo Etidorhpa 
 
 never before seen on mortal shoulders. The chin, as seen 
 through his silver beard, was rounded and well developed, 
 the mouth straight, with pleasant lines about it, the jaws 
 square and, like the mouth, indicating decision, the eyes 
 deep set and arched -with, heavy eyebrows, and the whole 
 surmounted by a forehead so. vast, so high, that it was 
 almost a deformity, and yet it did not impress me un- 
 pleasantly ; it was the forehead of a scholar, a profound 
 thinker, a deep student. The nose was inclined to aqui- 
 line, and quite large. The contour of the head and face 
 impressed me as indicating a man of learning, one who 
 had given a lifetime to experimental as well as speculative 
 thought. His voice was mellow, clear, and distinct, al- 
 ways pleasantly modulated and soft, never loud nor un- 
 pleasant in the least degree. One remarkable feature I 
 must not fail to mention — his hair ; this, while thin and 
 scant upon the top of his head, was long, and reached to 
 his shoulders ; his beard was of unusual length, descend- 
 ing almost to his waist ; his hair, eyebrows and beard 
 were all of singular whiteness and purity, almost trans- 
 parent, a silvery whiteness that seemed an aureolar sheen 
 in the glare of the gaslight. What struck me as partic- 
 ularly remarkable was that his skin looked as soft and 
 smooth as that of a child ; there was not a blemish in it. 
 His age was a puzzle none could guess ; stripped of his 
 hair, or the color of it changed, he might be twenty-five — 
 given a few wrinkles, he might be ninety. Taken alto- 
 gether. I had never seen his like, nor anything approach- 
 ing his like, and for an instant there was a faint sugges- 
 tion to my mind that he was not of this earth, but 
 belonged to some other planet. 
 
 I now fancy he must have read my impressions of him 
 as these ideas shaped themselves in my brain, and that 
 he was quietly waiting for me to regain a degree of self- 
 possession that would allow him to disclose the purpose 
 of his visit. 
 
 He was first to break the silence : "I see that you 
 are not disposed to pay your wager any more than I am 
 
" Never Less Alone Than When Alone " 1 1 
 
 to collect it, so we will not discuss that. I admit that 
 my introduction to-night was abrupt, but you cannot 
 deny that you challenged me to appear." I was not clear 
 upon the point, and said so. "Your memory is at fault," 
 he continued, "if you cannot recall your experiences of 
 the day just past. Did you not attempt to interest your- 
 self in modern book lore, to fix your mind in turn upon 
 history, chemistry, botany, poetry, and general literature? 
 And all these failing, did you not deliberately challenge 
 Cicero to a practical demonstration of an old apothegm 
 of his that has survived for centuries, and of your own 
 free will did not you make a wager that, as an admirer 
 of Cicero's, I am free to accept?" To all this I could 
 but silently assent. "Very good, then ; we will not pursue 
 this subject further, as it is not relevant to my purpose, 
 which is to acquaint you with a narrative of unusual 
 interest, upon certain conditions, with which if you com- 
 ply, you will not only serve yourself, but me as well." 
 
 "Please name the conditions," I said. 
 
 "They are simple enough," he answered. "The narra- 
 tive I speak of is in manuscript. I shall produce it in the 
 near future, and my design is to read it aloud to you, or 
 to allow you to read it to me. as you may select. Further, 
 my wish is that during the reading you shall interpose 
 any objection or question that you deem proper. This 
 reading will occupy many evenings, and I shall of neces- 
 sity be with you often. When the reading is concluded, 
 we shall seal the package securely, and I shall leave you 
 forever. You will then deposit the manuscript in some 
 safe place, and let it remain for thirty years. When this 
 period has elapsed, I wish you to publish this history to 
 the world." 
 
 "Your conditions seem easy," I said, after a few sec- 
 onds' pause. 
 
 "They are certainly very simple; do you accept?" 
 
 I hesitated, for the prospect of giving myself up to a 
 succession of interviews with this extraordinary and mys- 
 terious personage seemed to require consideration. He 
 
1 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 evidently divined my thoughts, for, rising from his chair, 
 he said abruptly : "Let me have your answer now." 
 
 I debated the matter no further, but answered: "I ac- 
 cept, conditionally." 
 
 "Name your conditions," the guest replied. 
 
 "I will either publish the work, or induce some other 
 man to do so." 
 
 "Good," he said ; "I shall see you again," with a polite 
 bow ; and turning to the door which I had previously 
 locked, he opened it softly, and with a quiet "Good-night" 
 disappeared in the hallway. 
 
 I looked after him with bewildered senses ; but a sud- 
 den impulse caused me to glance toward the table, when 
 I saw that he had forgotten his knife. With the view of 
 returning this, I reached to pick it up, but my finger-tips 
 no sooner touched the handle than a sudden chill shivered 
 along my nerves. Not as an electric shock, but rather as 
 a sensation of extreme cold was the current that ran 
 through me in an instant. Rushing into the hallway 
 to the landing of the stairs, I called after the mysterious 
 being, "You have forgotten your knife," but beyond the 
 faint echo of my voice. I heard no sound. The phantom 
 was gone. A moment later t was at the foot of the 
 stairs, and had thrown open the door. A street lamp 
 shed an uncertain light in front of the house. I stepped 
 out and listened intently for a moment, but not a sound 
 was audible, if indeed I except the beating of my own 
 heart, which throbbed so wildly that I fancied I heard it. 
 No footfall echoed from the deserted streets ; all was 
 silent as a churchyard, and I closed and locked the door, 
 softly tiptoed my way back to my room, and sank col- 
 lapsed into an easy-chair. I was more than exhausted ; I 
 quivered from head to foot, not with cold, but with a 
 strange nervous chill that found intensest expression in 
 my spinal column, and seemed to flash up and down my 
 back, vibrating like a feverous pulse. This active pain 
 was succeeded by a feeling of frozen numbness, and I 
 sat I know not how long, trying to tranquillize myself 
 
" Never Less Alone Than When Alone " 13 
 
 and think temperately of the night's occurrence. By 
 degrees I recovered my normal sensations, and direct- 
 ing my will in the channel of sober reasoning, I said to 
 myself: "There can be no mistake about his visit, for his 
 knife is here as a witness to the fact. So much is sure, 
 and I will secure that testimony at all events." With 
 this reflection I turned to the table, but to my astonish- 
 ment I discovered that the knife had disappeared. It 
 needed but this miracle to start the perspiration in great 
 cold beads from every pore. My brain was in a whirl, 
 and reeling into a chair, I covered my face with my 
 hands. How long I sat in this posture I do not remem- 
 ber. I only know that I began to doubt my own sanity, 
 and wondered if this were not the way people became de- 
 ranged. Had not my peculiar habits of isolation, irreg- 
 ular and intense study, erratic living, all conspired to 
 imseat reason? Surely there was every ground to believe 
 so ; and yet I was able still to think consistently and hold 
 steadily to a single line of thought. Insane people cannot 
 do that, I reflected, and gradually the tremor and excite- 
 ment wore away. When I had become calmer and more 
 collected, and my sober judgment said, "Go to bed; sleep 
 just as long as you can ; hold your eyelids down, and 
 when you awake refreshed, as you will, think out the 
 whole subject at your leisure," I arose, threw open the 
 shutters, and found that day was breaking. Hastily un- 
 dressing I went to bed, and closed my eyes, vaguely con- 
 scious of some soothing guardianship. Perhaps because 
 I was physically exhausted, I soon lost myself in the 
 oblivion of sleep. 
 
 I did not dream — at least I could not afterwards re- 
 member my dream if I had one, but I recollect thinking 
 that somebody struck ten distinct blows on my door, 
 which seemed to me to be of metal and very sonorous. 
 These ten blows in my semi-conscious state I counted. 
 I lay very quiet for a time collecting my thoughts and 
 noting various objects about the room, until my eye 
 caught the dial of a French clock upon the mantel. It 
 
14 Etidorhpa 
 
 was a few minutes past ten, and the blows I had heard 
 were the strokes of the hammer upon the gong in the 
 clock. The sun was shining into the room, which was 
 quite cold, for the fire had gone out. I arose, dressed 
 myself quickly, and after thoroughly laving my face and 
 hands in ice-cold water, felt considerably refreshed. 
 
 Before going out to breakfast, while looking around 
 the room for a few things wdiich I wanted to take with 
 me, I espied upon the table a long white hair. This was 
 indeed a surprise, for I had about concluded that my 
 adventure of the previous night was a species of waking 
 nightmare, the result of overworked brain and weakened 
 body. But here w^as tangible evidence to the contrary, 
 an assurance that my mysterious visitor was not a fancy 
 or a dream, and his parting w^ords, "I shall see you again," 
 recurred to me with singular effect. "He will see me 
 again ; very well ; I will preserve this evidence of his 
 visit for future use." I wound the delicate filament into a 
 little coil, folded it carefully in a bit of paper, and con- 
 signed it to a corner in my pocket-book, though not with- 
 out some misgiving that it, too, might disappear as did 
 the knife. 
 
 The strange experience of that night had a good effect 
 on me ; I became more regular in all my habits, took abun- 
 dant sleep and exercise, was more methodical in my modes 
 of study and reasoning, and in a short time found myself 
 vastly improved in every way, mentally and physically. 
 
 The days went fleeting into weeks, the weeks into 
 months, and while the form and figure of the white-haired 
 stranger were seldom absent from my mind, he came no 
 more. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FRIENDLY CONFERENCE, 
 
 It is rare, in our present civilization, to find a man who 
 lives alone. This remark does not apply to hermits or 
 persons of abnormal or perverted mental tendencies, but 
 to the majority of mankind living and moving actively 
 among their fellows, and engaged in the ordinary occu- 
 pations of humanity. Every man must have at least 
 one confidant, either of his own household or within the 
 circle of his intimate friends. There may possibly be 
 rare exceptions among persons of genius in statecraft, 
 war, or commerce, but it is doubtful even in such in- 
 stances if any keep all their thoughts to themselves, her- 
 metically sealed from their fellows. As a prevailing rule, 
 either a loving wife or very near friend shares the inner 
 thought of the most secretive individual, even when 
 secrecy seems an indispensable element to success. The 
 tendency to a free interchange of ideas and experiences 
 is almost universal, instinct prompting the natural man 
 to unburden his most sacred thought, when the proper 
 confidant and the proper time come for the disclosure. 
 
 For months I kept to myself the events narrated in 
 the preceding chapter. And this for several reasons : 
 first, the dread of ridicule that would follow the relation 
 of the fantastic occurrences, and the possible suspicion of 
 my sanity, that might result from the recital ; second, very 
 grave doubts as to the reality of my experiences. But 
 by degrees self-confidence was restored, as I reasoned 
 the matter over and reassured myself by occasional con- 
 templation of the silvery hair I had coiled in my pocket- 
 book, and which at first I had expected would vanish as 
 did the stranger's knife. There came upon me a feeling 
 
1 6 Etidorhpa 
 
 that I should see my weird visitor again, and at an early 
 day. I resisted this impression, for it was a touch of the 
 idea, rather than a thought, but the vague expectation 
 grew upon me in spite of myself, until at length it be- 
 came a conviction which no argument or logic could 
 shake. Curiously enough, as the original incident re- 
 ceded into the past, this new idea thrust itself into the 
 foreground, and I began in my own mind to court another 
 interview. At times, sitting alone after night, I felt that 
 I was watched by unseen eyes ; these eyes haunted me in 
 my solitude, and I was morally sure of the presence of 
 another than myself in the room. The sensation was at 
 first unpleasant, and I tried to throw it off, with partial 
 success. But only for a little while could I banish the 
 intrusive idea, and as the thought took form, and the in- 
 visible presence became more actual to consciousness, I 
 hoped that the stranger would make good his parting 
 promise, "I shall see you again." 
 
 On one thing I was resolved ; I would at least be better 
 informed on the subject of hallucinations and apparitions, 
 and not be taken unawares as I had been. To this end I 
 decided to confer with my friend. Professor Chickering, 
 a quiet, thoughtful man, of varied accomplishments, and 
 thoroughly read upon a great number of topics, especially 
 in the literature of the marvellous. 
 
 So to the Professor I went, after due appointment, and 
 confided to him full particulars of my adventure. He 
 listened patiently throughout, and when I had finished, 
 assured me in a matter-of-fact way that such hallucina- 
 tions were by no means rare. His remark was provok- 
 ing, for I did not expect from the patient interest he had 
 shown while I was telling my story, that the whole mat- 
 ter would be dismissed thus summarily. I said with 
 some warmth : 
 
 "But this was not a hallucination. I tried at first to 
 persuade myself that it was illusory, but the more I have 
 thought the experience over, the more real it becomes to 
 me." 
 
A Friendly Conference 17 
 
 "Perhaps you were dreaming," suggested the Pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 "No," I answered; "I have tried that hypothesis, and 
 it will not do. Many things make that view untenable." 
 
 "Do not be too sure of that," he said ; "you were, by 
 your own account, in a highly nervous condition, and 
 physically tired. It is possible, perhaps probable, that 
 in this state, as you sat in your chair, you dozed off for 
 a short interval, during which the illusion flashed through 
 your mind." 
 
 "How do you explain the fact that incidents occupy- 
 ing a large portion of the night occurred in an interval 
 which you describe as a flash?" 
 
 "Easily enough ; in dreams time may not exist ; periods 
 embracing weeks or months may be reduced to an in- 
 stant. Long journeys, hours of conversation, or a multi- 
 tude of transactions, may be compressed into a term 
 measured by the opening or closing of a door, or the strik- 
 ing of a clock. In dreams, ordinary standards of reason 
 find no place, while ideas or events chase through the 
 mind more rapidly than thought." 
 
 "Conceding all this, why did I, considering the unusual 
 character of the incidents, accept them as real, as sub- 
 stantial, as natural, indeed, as the most commonplace 
 events?" 
 
 "There is nothing extraordinary in that," he replied. 
 "In dreams all sorts of absurdities, impossibilities, dis- 
 cordancies, and violation of natural law appear to be reali- 
 ties, without exciting the least surprise or suspicion. 
 Imagination runs riot and is supreme, and reason for the 
 time is dormant. We see ghosts, spirits, the forms of per- 
 sons dead or living — we suffer pain, pleasure, hunger — 
 and all sensations and emotions, without a moment's ques- 
 tion of their realit)'." 
 
 "Do any of the subjects of our dreams or visions leave 
 tangible evidences of their presence?" 
 
 "Assuredly not," he answered, with an incredulous, 
 half-impatient gesture ; "the idea is absurd." 
 
1 8 Etidorhpa 
 
 "Then I was not dreaming," I mused. 
 
 Without looking at me, the Professor went on : "These 
 false presentiments may have their origin in other ways, 
 as from mental disorders caused by indigestion. Nicolai, 
 a noted bookseller of Berlin, was thus afflicted. His ex- 
 periences are interesting and possibly suggestive. Let 
 me read some of them to you." 
 
 The Professor hereupon glanced over his bookshelf, 
 selected a volume, and proceeded to read :* 
 
 "I generally saw human forms of both sexes ; but they usually 
 seemed not to take the smallest notice of each other, moving as 
 in a market place, where all are eager to press through the crowd ; 
 at times, however, they seemed to be transacting business with 
 each other. I also saw several times, people on horseback, dogs, 
 and birds. 
 
 "All these phantasms appeared to me in their natural size, and 
 as distinct as if alive, exhibiting different shades of carnation in 
 the uncovered parts, as well as different colors and fashions in 
 their dresses, though the colors seemed somewhat paler than in 
 real nature. None of the figures appeared particularly terrible, 
 comical, or disgusting, most of them being of indifferent shape, 
 and some presenting a pleasant aspect. The longer these phan- 
 tasms continued to visit me, the more frequently did they return, 
 while at the same time they increased in number about four weeks 
 after they had first appeared. I also began to hear them talk: 
 these phantoms conversed among themselves, but more frequently 
 addressed their discourse to me ; their speeches were uncommonly 
 short, and never of an unpleasant turn. At different times there 
 appeared to me both dear and sensible friends of both sexes, 
 whose addresses tended to appease my grief, which had not yet 
 wholly subsided : their consolatory speeches were in general ad- 
 dressed to me when I was alone. Sometimes, however, I was 
 accosted by these consoling friends while I was engaged in com- 
 pany, and not infrequently while real persons were speaking to me. 
 These consolatory addresses consisted sometimes of abrupt 
 phrases, and at other times they were regularly executed." 
 
 *This work I have found to be Vol. IV. of Chambers' Miscel- 
 lany, published by Gould and Lincoln, Boston. — J. U. L. 
 
A Friendly Conference 19 
 
 Here I interrupted: "I note, Professor, that Mr. Nico- 
 lai knew these forms to be illusions." 
 
 Without answering my remark, he continued to read : 
 
 "There is in imagination a potency far exceeding the fabled 
 power of Aladdin's lamp. How often does one sit in wintry even- 
 ing musings, and trace in the glowing embers the features of an 
 absent friend? Imagination, with its magic wand, will there build 
 a city with its countless spires, or marshal contending armies, or 
 drive the tempest-shattered ship upon the ocean. The following 
 story, related by Scott, affords a good illustration of this prin- 
 ciple: 
 
 " 'Not long after the death of an illustrious poet, who had filled, 
 while living, a great station in the eyes of the public, a literary 
 friend, to whom the deceased had been well known, was engaged 
 during the darkening twilight of an autumn evening in perusing 
 one of the publications which professed to detail the habits and 
 opinions of the distinguished individual who was now no more. 
 As the reader had enjoyed the intimacy of the deceased to a con- 
 siderable degree, he was deeply interested in the publication, which 
 contained some particulars relating to himself and other friends. 
 A visitor was sitting in the apartment, who was also engaged in 
 reading. Their sitting-room opened into an entrance hall, rather 
 fantastically fitted up with articles of armor, skins of wild animals, 
 and the like. It was when laying down his book, and passing into 
 this hall, through which the moon was beginning to shine, that the 
 indiridual of whom I speak saw right before him, in a standing 
 posture, the exact representation of his departed friend, whose 
 recollection had been so strongly brought to his imagination. He 
 stopped for a single moment, so as to notice the wonderful ac- 
 curacy with which fancy had impressed upon the bodily eye the 
 peculiarities of dress and position of the illustrious poet. Sensible, 
 however, of the delusion, he felt no sentiment save that of wonder 
 at the extraordinary accuracy of the resemblance, and stepped 
 onward to the figure, which resolved itself as he approached into 
 the various materials of which it was composed. These were 
 merely a screen occupied by great coats, shawls, plaids, and such 
 other articles as are usually found in a country entrance hall. The 
 spectator returned to the spot from which he had seen the illusion, 
 and endeavored with all his power to recall the image which had 
 been so singularly vivid. But this he was unable to do. And the 
 person who had witnessed the apparition, or, more properly, whose 
 
20 Etidorhpa 
 
 excited state had been the means of raising it, had only to return 
 to the apartment, and tell his young friend under what a striking 
 hallucination he had for a moment labored.' " 
 
 Here I was constrained to call the Professor to a halt. 
 "Your stories are very interesting," I said, "but I fail 
 to perceive any analogy in either the conditions or the in- 
 cidents, to my experience. I was fully awake and con- 
 scious at the time, and the man I saw appeared and moved 
 about in the full glare of the gaslight — " 
 
 "Perhaps not," he answered ; "I am simply giving you 
 some general illustrations of the subject. But here is a 
 case more to the point." 
 
 Again he read : 
 
 "A lady was once passing through a wood, in the darkening 
 twilight of a stormy evening, to visit a friend who was watching 
 over a dying child. The clouds were thick — the rain beginning to 
 fall; darkness was increasing; the wind was moaning mournfully 
 through the trees. The lady's heart almost failed her as she saw 
 that she had a mile to walk through the woods in the gathering 
 gloom. But the reflection of the situation of her friend forbade 
 her turning back. Excited and trembling, she called to her aid a 
 nervous resolution, and pressed onward. She had not proceeded 
 far when she beheld in the path before her the movement of .some 
 very indistinct object. It appeared to keep a little distance ahead 
 of her, and as she made efforts to get nearer to see what it was, it 
 seemed proportionally to recede. The lady began to feel rather 
 unpleasantly. There was some pale white object certainly dis- 
 cernible before her, and it appeared mysteriously to float along, 
 at a regular distance, without any effort at motion. Notwithstand- 
 ing the lady's good sense and unusual resolution, a cold chill began 
 to come over her. She made every effort to resist her fears, and 
 soon succeeded in drawing nearer the mysterious object, when 
 she was appalled at beholding the features of her friend's child, 
 cold in death, wrapt in its shroud. She gazed earnestly, and there 
 it remained distinct and clear before her eyes. She considered it a 
 premonition that her friend's child was dead, and that she must 
 hasten to her aid. But there was the apparition directly in her 
 path. She must pass it. Taking up a little stick, she forced her- 
 self along to the object, and behold, some little animal scampered 
 
A Friendly Conference 21 
 
 away. It was this that her excited imagination had transformed 
 into the corpse of an infant in its winding sheet." 
 
 I was a little irritated, and once more interrupted the 
 reader warmly : "This is exasperating. Now what resem- 
 blance is there between the vagaries of a hysterical, weak- 
 minded woman and my case?" 
 
 He smiled, and again read : 
 
 "The numerous stories told of ghosts, or the spirits of persons 
 who are dead, will in most instances be found to have originated 
 in diseased imagination, aggravated by some abnormal defect of 
 mind. We may mention a remarkable case in point, and one which 
 is not mentioned in English works on this subject; it is told by a 
 compiler of Les Causes Celebres. Two young noblemen, the 
 Marquises De Rambouillet and De Precy, belonging to two of 
 the first families of France, made an agreement, in the warmth of 
 their friendship, that the one who died first should return to the 
 other with tidings of the world to come. Soon afterward De 
 Rambouillet went to the wars in Flanders, while De Precy re- 
 mained at Paris, stricken by a fever. Lying alone in bed, and 
 severely ill, De Precy one day heard a rustling of his bed curtains, 
 and turning round, saw his friend De Rambouillet, in full military 
 attire. The sick man sprung over the bed to welcome his friend, 
 but the other receded, and said that he had come to fulfil his 
 promise, having been killed on that very day. He further said that 
 it behooved De Precy to think more of the after world, as all that 
 was said of it was true, and as he himself would die in his first 
 battle. De Precy was then left by the phantom ; and it was after- 
 ward found that De Rambouillet had fallen on that day." 
 
 "Ah," I said, "and so the phantom predicted an event 
 that followed as indicated." 
 
 "Spiritual illusions," explained the Professor, "are not 
 unusual, and well-authenticated cases are not wanting in 
 which they have been induced in persons of intelligence 
 by functional or organic disorders. In the case last cited, 
 the prediction was followed by a fulfilment, but this was 
 chance or mere coincidence. It would be strange indeed 
 if in the multitude of dreams that come to humanity, 
 some few should not be followed by events so similar 
 
2 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 as to warrant the belief that they were prefigured. But 
 here is an illustration that fits your case : let me read it : 
 
 "In some instances it may be difficult to decide whether spectral 
 appearances and spectral noises proceed from physical derange- 
 ment or from an overwrought state of mind. Want of exercise 
 and amusement may also be a prevailing cause. A friend mentions 
 to us the following case : An acquaintance of his, a merchant, in 
 London, who had for years paid very close attention to business, was 
 one day, while alone in his counting house, very much surprised 
 to hear, as he imagined, persons outside the door talking freely 
 about him. Thinking it was some acquaintances who were playing 
 off a trick, he opened the door to request them to come in, when 
 to his amazement, he found that nobody was there. He again sat 
 down to his desk, and in a few minutes the same dialogue recom- 
 menced. The language was very alarming. One voice seemed to 
 say : 'We have the scoundrel in his own counting house ; let us go 
 in and seize him.' 'Certainly,' replied the other voice, 'it is right 
 to take him ; he has been guilty of a great crime, and ought to be 
 brought to condign punishment.' Alarmed at these threats, the 
 bewildered merchant rushed to the door ; and there again no per- 
 son was to be seen. He now locked his door and went home ; 
 but the voices, as he thought, followed him through the crowd, 
 and he arrived at his house in a most unenviable state of mind. 
 Inclined to ascribe the voices to derangement in mind, he sent for 
 a medical attendant, and told his case, and a certain kind of treat- 
 ment was prescribed. This, however, failed ; the voices menacing 
 him with punishment for purely imaginary crimes continued, and 
 he was reduced to the brink of despair. At length a friend pre- 
 scribed entire relaxation from business, and a daily game of 
 cricket, which, to his great relief, proved an effectual remedy. 
 The exercise banished the phantom voices, and they were no more 
 heard." 
 
 "So you think that I am in need of outdoor exercise?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "And that my experience was illusory, the result of 
 vertigo, or some temporary calenture of the brain?" 
 
 "To be plain with you, yes." 
 
 "But I asked you a while ago if specters or phantoms 
 ever leave tangible evidence of their presence." The 
 
A Friendly Conference 23 
 
 Professor's eyes dilated in interrogation. I continued : 
 "Well, this one did. After I had followed him out, I 
 found on the table a long, white hair, which I still have," 
 and producing the little coil from my pocket-book, I 
 handed it to him. He examined^ it curiously, eyed me 
 furtively, and handed it back with the cautious remark : 
 
 "I think you had better commence your exercise at 
 once." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SECOND INTERVIEW WITH THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 
 
 It is not pleasant to have one's mental responsibility 
 brought in question, and the result of my interview with 
 Professor Chickering was, to put it mildly, unsatisfac- 
 tory. Not that he had exactly questioned my sanity, but 
 it was all too evident that he was disposed to accept my 
 statement of a plain matter-of-fact occurrence with too 
 liberal a modicum of salt. I say "matter-of-fact occur- 
 rence" in full knowledge of the truth that I myself had at 
 first regarded the whole transaction as a fantasia or flight 
 of mind, the result of extreme nervous tension ; but in 
 the interval succeeding I had abundant opportimity to 
 correlate my thoughts, and to bring some sort of order 
 out of the mental and physical chaos of that strange, 
 eventful night. True, the preliminary events leading up 
 to it were extraordinary ; the dismal weather, the depres- 
 sion of body and spirit under which I labored, the wild 
 whirl of thought keeping pace with the elements — in 
 short, a general concatenation of events that seemed to 
 be ordered especially for the introduction of some abnor- 
 mal visitor — the night would indeed have been incom- 
 plete without a ghost ! But was it a ghost ? There was 
 nothing ghostly about my visitor, except the manner of 
 his entrance and exit. In other respects he seemed sub- 
 stantial enough. He was, in his manners, courteous and 
 polished as a Chesterfield ; learned as a savant in his con- 
 versation ; human in his thoughtful regard of my fears 
 and misgivings ; but that tremendous forehead, with its 
 crown of silver hair, the long, translucent beard of pearly 
 whiteness, and above all the astounding facility with 
 which he read m.y hidden thoughts — these were not 
 natural. 
 
A Second Interview 25 
 
 The Professor had been patient with me — I had a right 
 to expect that ; he was entertaining to the extent of read- 
 ing such excerpts as he had with him on the subject of 
 hallucinations and their supposed causes, but had he not 
 spoiled all by assigning me at last to a place with the 
 questionable, unbalanced characters he had cited? I 
 thought so, and the reflection provoked me ; and this 
 thought grew upon me until I came to regard his stories 
 and attendant theories as so much literary trash. 
 
 My own reflections had been sober and deliberate, and 
 had led me to seek a rational explanation of the unusual 
 phenomena. I had gone to Professor Chickering for a 
 certain measure of sympathy, and what was more to the 
 point, to secure his suggestions and assistance in the 
 further unravelling of a profound mystery that might 
 contain a secret of untold use to humanity. Repulsed by 
 the mode in which my confidence had been received, I 
 decided to do what I should have done from the outset — 
 to keep my own counsel and to follow alone the investi- 
 gation to the end, no matter what the result might be. 
 I could not forget or ignore the silver hair I had so relig- 
 iously preserved. That was genuine ; it was as tangible, 
 as real, as convincing a witness as would have been the 
 entire head of my singular visitant, whatever might be his 
 nature. 
 
 I began to feel at ease the moment my course was 
 decided, and the feeling was at once renewed within me 
 that the gray head would come again, and by degrees 
 that expectation ripened into a desire, only intensified as 
 the days sped by. The weeks passed into months ; sum- 
 mer came and went ; autumn was fast fading, but the 
 mysterious unknown did not appear. A curious fancy 
 led me now to regard him as my friend, for the mixed 
 and indefinite feelings I felt at first toward him had almost 
 unaccountably been changed to thoseof sincere regard. He 
 was not always in my thoughts, for I had abundant occu- 
 pation at all times to keep both brain and hands busy, but 
 there were few evenings in which I did not, just before 
 
26 Etidorhpa 
 
 retiring, give myself up for a brief period to quiet com- 
 munion with my own thoughts, and I must confess at 
 such times the unknown occupied the larger share of at- 
 tention. The constant contemplation of any theme be- 
 gets a feeling of familiarity or acquaintance with the 
 same, and if that subject be an individual, as in the pres- 
 ent instance, such contemplation lessens the liability to 
 surprise from any unexpected development. In fact, I 
 not only anticipated a visit, but courted it. The old 
 Latin maxim that I had played with, "Never less alone 
 than when alone" had domiciled itself within my brain 
 as a permanent lodger — a conviction, a feeling rather 
 than a thought defined, and I had but little difficulty in 
 associating with his presence an easy-chair which I had 
 come to place in a certain position for my expected vis- 
 itor. 
 
 Indian summer had passed, and the fall was nearly 
 gone when for some inexplicable reason the number seven 
 began to haimt me. What had I to do with seven, or 
 seven with me? When I sat do-vn at night this persist- 
 ent number mixed itself in my thoughts, to my intense 
 annoyance. Bother take the mystic numeral ! What was 
 I to do with seven? I found myself asking this question 
 audibly one evening, when it suddenly occurred to me 
 that I would look up the date of my friend's visit. I kept 
 no journal, but reference to a record of some business 
 transactions that I had associated with that event showed 
 that it took place on November seventh. That settled 
 the importunate seven ! I should look for him on the first 
 anniversary of his visit, which was the seventh, now close 
 at hand. The instant I had reached this conclusion the 
 number left me. and troubled me no more. 
 
 November third had passed, the fourth, and the fifth 
 had come, when a stubborn, protesting notion entered my 
 mind that I was yielding to a superstitious idea, and that 
 it was time to control my vacillating will. Accordingly 
 on this day I sent word to a friend that, if agreeable to 
 him. I would call on him on the evening of the seventh for 
 
A Second Interview 27 
 
 a short social chat, but as I expected to be engaged until 
 later than usual, would he excuse me if I did not reach 
 his apartments until ten? The request was singular, but 
 as I was now accounted somewhat odd, it excited no com- 
 ment, and the answer was returned, requesting me to 
 come. The seventh of November came at last. I was 
 nervous during the day, which seemed to drag tediously, 
 and several times it was remarked of me that I seemed 
 abstracted and ill at ease, but I held my peace. Night 
 came cold and clear, and the stars shone brighter than 
 usual, I thought. It was a sharp contrast to the night of 
 a year ago. I took an early supper, for which I had no 
 appetite, after which I strolled aimlessly about the streets, 
 revolving how I should put in the time till ten o'clock, 
 when I was to call upon my friend. I decided to go to 
 the theatre, and to the theatre I went. The play was 
 spectacular, "Aladdin; or. The Wonderful Lamp." The 
 entertainment, to me, was a flat failure, for I was busy 
 with my thoughts, and it was not long until my thoughts 
 were busy with me, and I found myself attempting to 
 answer a series of questions that finally became embar- 
 rassing. "Why did you make an appointment for ten 
 o'clock instead of eight, if you wished to keep away from 
 your apartments ?" I hadn't thought of that before ; it 
 was stupid to a degree, if not ill-mannered, and I frankly 
 admitted as much. "Why did you make an appointment 
 at all, in the face of the fact that you not only expected 
 a visitor, but were anxious to meet him?" This was 
 easily answered : because I did not wish to yield to what 
 struck me as superstition. "But do you expect to extend 
 your call until morning?" Well, no, I hadn't thought 
 or arranged to do so. "Well, then, what is to prevent 
 your expected guest from awaiting your return? Or, 
 what assurance have you that he will not encounter you 
 in the street, under circumstances that will provoke or, at 
 the least, embarrass you?" None whatever. "Then what 
 have you gained by your stupid perversity?" Nothing, 
 beyond the assertion of my own individuality. "Why not 
 
28 Etidorhpa 
 
 go home and receive your guest in becoming style?" No ; 
 I would not do that. I had started on this course, and I 
 would persevere in it. I would be consistent. And so I 
 persisted, at least until nine o'clock, when I quit the 
 theatre in sullen dejection, and went home to make some 
 slight preparation tor my evening call. 
 
 With my latch-key I let myself into the front door 
 of the apartment house wherein I lodged, closing and 
 locking it again, walked through the hall, up the stair- 
 case, and paused on the threshold of my room, wonder- 
 ing what I would find inside. Opening the door, I en- 
 tered, leaving it open behind me so that the light from 
 the hallway would shine into the room, which was dark, 
 and there was no transom above the door. The grate 
 fire had caked into a solid mass of charred bituminous 
 coal, which shed no illumination beyond a faint red glow 
 at the bottom, showing that it was barely alive, and no 
 more. I struck a match on the underside of the mantel 
 shelf, and as I lit the gas I heard the click of the door 
 latch. I turned instantly ; the door had been gently closed 
 by some unknown force if not by unseen hands, for there 
 was no breath of air stirring. This preternatural inter- 
 ference was not pleasant, for I had hoped in the event of 
 another visit from my friend, if friend he was. that he 
 would bring no uncanny or ghostly manifestation to dis- 
 turb me. I looked at the clock ; the index pointed to half 
 past nine. I glanced about the room ; it was orderly, 
 everything in proper position, even to the arm-chair that 
 I had been wont to place for my nondescript visitor. It 
 was time to be going, so I turned to the dressing-case, 
 brushed my hair, put on a clean scarf, and moved toward 
 the wash-stand, which stood in a little alcove on the oppo- 
 site side of the room. My self-command well-nigh de- 
 serted me as I did so, for there, in the arm-chair that a 
 moment before was empty, sat my guest of a year ago, 
 facing me with placid features ! The room began to re- 
 volve, a faint, sick feeling came over me, and I reeled 
 
A Second Interview 29 
 
 into the first convenient chair, and covered my face with 
 my hands. This depression lasted but an instant, how- 
 ever, and as I recovered self-possession, I felt or 
 fancied I felt a pair of penetrating eyes fixed upon me 
 with the same mild, searching gaze I remembered so well. 
 I ventured to look up ; sure enough, there they were, the 
 beaming eyes, and there was he ! Rising from his chair, 
 he towered up to his full height, smiled pleasantly, and 
 with a slight inclination of the head, murmured: "Permit 
 me to wish you good-evening; I am profoundly glad to 
 meet you again." 
 
 It was a full minute before I could muster courage to 
 answer: "I wish I could say as much for myself." 
 
 "And why should you not?" he said, gently and cour- 
 teously ; "you have realized, for the past six months, that 
 I would return ; more than that — you have known for 
 some time the very day and almost the exact hour of my 
 coming, have even wished for it, and, in the face of all 
 this, I find you preparing to evade the requirements of 
 common hospitality ; are you doing either rne or yourself 
 justice ?" 
 
 I was nettled at the knowledge he displayed of my 
 movements, and of my very thoughts ; my old stubborn- 
 ness asserted itself, and I was rude enough to reply : 
 "Perhaps it is as you say ; at all events, I am obligated 
 to keep an engagement, and with your permission will 
 now retire." 
 
 It was curious to mark the effect of this speech upon 
 the intruder. He immediately became grave, reached 
 quietly into an inner pocket of his coat, drew thence the 
 same glittering, mysterious knife that had so terrified and 
 bewildered me a year before, and looking me steadily in 
 the eye, said coldly, yet with a certain tone of sadness : 
 'Well, I will not grant permission. It is unpleasant to 
 resort to this style of argument, but I do it to save time 
 and controversy." 
 
 I stepped back in terror, and reached for the old-fash- 
 
30 Etidorhpa 
 
 ioned bell-cord, with the heavy tassel at the end, that de- 
 pended from the ceiling, and was on the point of grasp- 
 ing and giving it a vigorous pull. 
 
 "Not so fast, if you please," he said, sternly, as he 
 stepped forward, and gave the knife a rapid swish 
 through the air above my head, causing the cord to fall 
 in a tangle about my hand, cut cleanly, high above my 
 reach ! 
 
 I gazed in dumb stupor at the rope about my hand, and 
 raised my eyes to the remnant above. That was motion- 
 less ; there was not the slightest perceptible vibration, such 
 as would naturally be expected. I turned to look at my 
 guest; he had resumed his seat, and had also regained 
 his pleasant expression, but he still held the knife in his 
 hand with his arm extended, at rest, upon the table, which 
 stood upon his right. 
 
 "Let us have an end to this folly," he said ; "think a 
 moment, and you will see that you are in fault. Your 
 error we can rectify easily, and then to business. Let me 
 first show you the futility of trying to escape this inter- 
 view, and then we will proceed to work, for time presses, 
 and there is much to do." Having delivered this remark, 
 he detached a single silvery hair from his head, blew it 
 from his fingers, and let it float gently upon the upturned 
 edge of the knife, which was still resting on the table. The 
 hair was divided as readily as had been the bell-cord. I was 
 transfixed with astonishment, for he had evidently aimed 
 to exhibit the quality of the blade, though he made no allu- 
 sion to the feat, but smilingly went on with his dis- 
 course : "It is just a year ago to-night since we first met. 
 Upon that occasion you made an agreement with me which 
 you are in honor bound to keep, and" — here he paused as 
 if to note the efifect of his words upon me, then added 
 significantly — "will keep. I have been at some pains 
 to impress upon your mind the fact that I would be here 
 to-night. You responded, and knew that I was coming, 
 and yet, in obedience to a silly whim, deliberately made 
 a meaningless engagement with no other purpose than to 
 
A Second Interview 3 1 
 
 violate a solemn obligation. I now insist that you keep 
 your prior engagement with me, but I do not wish that 
 you should be rude to your friend, so you would better 
 write him a polite note excusing yourself, and dispatch it 
 at once." 
 
 I saw that he was right, and that there was no shadow 
 of justification for my conduct, or at least, I was subdued 
 by his presence, so I wrote the note without delay, and 
 was casting about for some way to send it, when he said : 
 "Fold it, seal it, and address it; you seem to forget what 
 is proper." Mechanically I did as he directed, without 
 thinking what I was doing, and handed it to him. He 
 took it naturally, glanced at the superscription, went to 
 the door which, without turning the key, he opened 
 slightly, and handed the billet as if to some messenger 
 who seemed to be in waiting outside — then closed and 
 locked the door. Turning toward me with the apparent 
 object of seeing if I was looking, he deftly drew his knife 
 twice across the front of the door-knob, making a deep 
 cross, and then deposited the knife in his pocket, and 
 resumed his seat.* 
 
 As soon as he was comfortably seated, he resumed 
 the conversation: "Now that we have settled the prelim- 
 inaries, let me ask if you remember what I required of you 
 a year ago?" I thought that I did. "Please repeat it; I 
 wish to make sure that you do, then we will start fair." 
 
 "In the first place, you were to present me with a manu- 
 script" — 
 
 "Hardly correct," he interrupted ; "I was to acquaint 
 you with a narrative w^hich is already in manuscript, ac- 
 quaint you with it, read it to you, if you preferred not to 
 read it to me" — 
 
 "I beg your pardon," I answered; "that is correct. 
 You were to read the manuscript to me, and during the 
 reading I was to interpose such comments, remarks, or 
 objections, as seemed proper; to embody as interludes, 
 
 *I noted afterward that the door-knob, which was of solid metal, 
 was cut deeply, as though made of putty. 
 
32 Etidorhpa 
 
 in the manuscript, or affix thereto, as my own interpola- 
 tions, however, and not as part of the original." 
 
 "Very good," he replied, "you have the idea exactly ; 
 proceed." 
 
 "I agreed that when the reading had been completed, 
 I would seal the complete manuscript securely, deposit it 
 in some safe place, there to remain for thirty years, when 
 it must be published." 
 
 "Just so," he answered ; "we understand each other. 
 Before we proceed further, however, can you think of 
 any point on which you need enlightenment? If so, ask 
 such questions as you choose, and I will answer them." 
 
 I thought for a moment, but no query occurred to me ; 
 after a pause he said : "Well, if you think of nothing 
 now, perhaps hereafter questions will occur to you which 
 you can ask ; but as it is late, and you are tired, we will 
 not commence now. I shall see you just one week from 
 to-night, when we will begin. From that time on, we 
 shall follow the subject as rapidly as you choose, but see 
 to it that you make no engagements to interfere with 
 our work, for I shall be more exacting in the future." I 
 promised, and he arose to go. A sudden impulse seized 
 me. and I said : "May I ask one question?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "What shall I call you?" 
 
 "Why call me aught ? It is not necessary in addressing 
 each other that any name be used." 
 
 "But what are you?" I persisted. 
 
 A pained expression for an instant rested upon his face, 
 and he said, sadly, pausing between the words: "I — Am 
 —The— Man— Who— Did— It." 
 
 "Did what?" 
 
 "Ask not; the manuscript will tell you. Be content, 
 Llewellvn, and remember this, that I — xA.m — The — 
 Man." ' 
 
 So saying he bade me good-night, opened the door. 
 and disappeared down the broad staircase. 
 
 One week thereafter he appeared promptly, seated him- 
 
A Second Interview 33 
 
 self, and producing a roll of manuscript, handed it to me, 
 saying, "I am listening ; you may begin to read." 
 
 On examination I found each page to be somewhat 
 larger than a sheet of letter-paper, with the written mat- 
 ter occupying a much smaller space, so as to leave a 
 wide white border. One hundred pages were in the 
 package. The last sentence ending abruptly indicated 
 that my guest did not expect to complete his task in one 
 evening, and, I may anticipate by saying that with each 
 successive interview he drew about the same amount of 
 manuscript from his bosom. Upon attempting to read 
 the writing I at first found myself puzzled by a style of 
 chirography very peculiar and characteristic, but execra- 
 bly bad. Vainly did I attempt to read it ; even the opening 
 sentence was not deciphered without long inspection and 
 great difficulty. 
 
 The old man, to whom I had promised that I would 
 fulfil the task, observing my discomfiture, relieved me of 
 the charge, and without a word of introduction, read 
 fluently as follows : 
 

 'Jo>-«-«-f 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FAC-SIMILE OF PAGE OF MANUSCRIPT, REDUCE! 
 
THE MANUSCRIPT OF I— AM— THE— MAN. 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SEARCH FOR KNOWLEDGE, THE ALCHEMISTIC LETTER. 
 
 I AM the man who, unfortunately for my future hap- 
 piness, was dissatisfied with such knowledge as could be 
 derived from ordinary books concerning semi-scientific 
 subjects in which I had long been absorbed. I studied 
 the current works of my day on philosophy and chemis- 
 try, hoping therein to find something tangible regarding 
 the relationship that exists between matter and spirit, but 
 studied in vain. Astronomy, history, philosophy and 
 the mysterious, incoherent works of alchemy and occult- 
 ism were finally appealed to, but likewise failed to satisfy 
 me. These studies were pursued in secret, though I am 
 not aware that any necessity existed for concealment. 
 Be that as it may, at every opportunity I covertly ac- 
 quainted myself with such alchemical lore as could be 
 obtained either by purchase or by correspondence with 
 others whom I found to be pursuing investigations in 
 the same direction. A translation of Geber's "De Clari- 
 tate Alchemiae," by chance came into my possession, and 
 afterwards an original Latin version of Bcerhaave's "Ele- 
 menta Chemise," published and translated in 1753 by 
 Peter Shaw. This magnificent production threw a flood 
 of light upon the early history of chemistry, being far 
 more elaborate than any modern work. It inspired me 
 with the deepest regard for its talented author, and ulti- 
 mately introduced me to a brotherhood of adepts, for in 
 this publication, although its author disclaims occultism, 
 is to be found a talisman that will enable any earnest 
 searcher after light to become a member of the society 
 of secret "Chemical Improvers of Natural Philosophy," 
 
36 Etidorhpa 
 
 with which I affihated as soon as the key was discovered. 
 Then followed a systematic investigation of authorities 
 of the Alchemical School, including Geber, Morienus, 
 Roger Bacon, George Ripley, Raymond Lully, Bernard 
 — Count of Trevise. Isaac Hollandus, Arnoldus Villano- 
 vus, Paracelsus, and others, not omitting the learned 
 researches of the distinguished scientist, Llewellyn. 
 
 I discovered that many talented men are still firm be- 
 lievers in the lost art of alchemy, and that among the fol- 
 lowers of the "thrice-famed Hermes" are to be found 
 statesmen, clergymen, lawyers, and scientific men who, 
 for various reasons, invariably conceal with great tact 
 their connection with the fraternity of adepts. Some of 
 these men had written scientific treatises of a very difTer- 
 ent character from those circulating among the members 
 of our brotherhood, and to their materialistic readers it 
 would seem scarcely possible that the authors could be 
 tainted with hallucinations of any description, while 
 others, conspicuous leaders in the church, were seemingly 
 beyond occult temptation. 
 
 The larger number, it was evident, hoped by studies 
 of the works of the alchemists to find the key to the 
 alkahest of Van Helmont. that is, to discover the Phil- 
 osopher's Stone, or the Elixir of Life, and from their 
 writings it is plain that the inner consciousness of 
 thoughtful and scientific men rebelled against confine- 
 ment to the narrow bounds of materialistic science, with- 
 in which they were forced to appear as dogmatic pessi- 
 mists. To them scientific orthodoxy, acting as a weight, 
 prohibited intellectual speculation, as rank heresy. A few 
 of my co-laborers were expert manipulators, and worked 
 experimentally, following in their laboratories the sug- 
 gestions of those gifted students who had pored over 
 precious old manuscripts, and had attempted to solve the 
 enigmatical formulas recorded therein, puzzles familiar 
 to students of Hermetic lore. It was thus demonstrated 
 — for what I have related is history — that in this nine- 
 
A Search for Knowledge 37 
 
 teenth century there exists a fraternity, the members of 
 which are as earnest in their behef in the truth of Esoteric 
 philosophy as were the followers of Hermes himself ; 
 savants who, in secret, circulate among themselves a liter- 
 ature that the materialism of this self-same nineteenth 
 century has relegated to the deluded and murky periods 
 that produced it. 
 
 One day a postal package came to my address, this 
 being the manner in which some of our literature circu- 
 lated, which, on examination, I found to be a letter of in- 
 struction and advice from some unknown member of our 
 circle. I was already becoming disheartened over the 
 mental confusion into which my studies were leading me, 
 and the contents of the letter, in which I was greatly in- 
 terested, made a lasting impression upon me. It seemed 
 to have been circulating a long time among our members 
 in Europe and America, for it bore numerous marginal 
 notes of various dates, but each and every one of its 
 readers had for one reason or another declined the task 
 therein suggested. From the substance of the paper, 
 which, written exquisitely, yet partook of the ambiguous 
 alchemistic style, it was evident that the author was well 
 versed in alchemy, and, in order that my position may 
 be clearly understood at this turning-point in a life of 
 remarkable adventure, the letter is appended* in full : 
 
 It was evident that the writer referred to a secret so- 
 ciety into which I could probably enter ; and, taking the 
 advice, I did not hesitate, but applied at once for member- 
 ship. Regardless of consequence, I determined to follow 
 the suggestion of the unknown writer, and by so doing, 
 for I voluntarily accepted their pledges, I invited my des- 
 tiny. 
 
 My guest of the massive forehead paused for a mo- 
 ment, stroked his long, white beard, and then, after casting 
 an inquiring glance on me, asked, "Shall I read on?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied, and The— Man— Who— Did— It 
 proceeded as follows : 
 
 * See Chapter XLIV. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WRITING OF MY CONFESSION. 
 
 Having become a member of the secret society as 
 directed by the writer of the letter I have just read, and 
 having obtained the secrets hinted at in the mystic direc- 
 tions, my next desire was to find a secluded spot where, 
 without interruption, I could prepare for publication what 
 I had gathered surreptitiously in the lodges of the frater- 
 nity I designed to betray. This I entitled "My Confes- 
 sion." Alas ! why did my evil genius prompt me to write 
 it? Why did not some kind angel withhold my hand 
 from the rash and wicked deed? All I can urge in de- 
 fence or palliation is that I was infatuated by the fatal 
 words of the letter, "You must act what men will call 
 the traitor, but humanity will be the gainer." 
 
 In a section of the State in which I resided, a certain 
 creek forms the boundary line between two townships, 
 and also between two counties. Crossing this creek, a 
 much travelled road stretches east and west, uniting the 
 extremes of the great State. Two villages on this road, 
 about four miles apart, situated on opposite sides of the 
 creek, also present themselves to my memory, and mid- 
 way between them, on the north side of the road, was a 
 substantial farmhouse. In going west from the eastern- 
 most of these villages, the traveller begins to descend 
 from the very centre of the town. In no place is the 
 grade steep, as the road lies between the spurs of the 
 hill abutting upon the valley that feeds the creek I have 
 mentioned. Having reached the valley, the road winds 
 a short distance to the right, then turning to the left, 
 crosses the stream, and immediately begins to climb the 
 western hill ; here the ascent is more difficult, for the road 
 lies diagonally over the edge of the hill. A mile of travel, 
 
The Writing of My Confession 39 
 
 as I recall the scene, sometimes up a steep, and again 
 among rich, level farm lands, and then on the very height, 
 close to the road, within a few feet of it, appears the 
 square structure which, at the time I mention, was known 
 as the Stone Tavern. On the opposite side of the road 
 were located extensive stables and a grain barn. In the 
 northeast chamber of that stone building, during a sum- 
 mer in the twenties, I wrote for publication the descrip- 
 tion of the mystic work that my oath should have made 
 forever a secret, a sacred trust. I am the man who 
 wantonly committed the deplorable act. Under the in- 
 fatuation of that alchemical manuscript, I strove to show 
 the world that I could and would do that which might 
 never benefit me in the least, but might serve humanity. 
 It was fate. I was not a bad man, neither malignity, 
 avarice, nor ambition forming a part of my nature. I was 
 a close student, of a rather retiring disposition, a stone- 
 mason by trade, careless and indifferent to public honors, 
 and so thriftless that many trifling neighborhood debts 
 had accumulated ag^ainst me. 
 
 What I have reluctantly told, for I am forbidden to 
 give the names of the localities, concerns part of the rec- 
 ord of my early life, and will introduce the extraordinary 
 narrative which follows. That I have spoken the truth, 
 and in no manner overdrawn, will be silently evidenced 
 1)y hundreds of brethren, both of the occult society 
 and the fraternal brotherhood, with which I united, who 
 can (if they will) testify to the accuracy of the narrative. 
 They know the story of my crime and disgrace ; only my- 
 self and God know the full retribution that followed. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 KIDNAPPED. 
 
 The events just narrated occurred in the prime of my 
 life, and are partly matters of publicity. My attempted 
 breach of faith in the way of disclosing their secrets was 
 naturally considered infamous in the eyes of my society 
 brethren, who endeavored to prevail upon me to relent of 
 my design, which, after writing my "Confession/' I made 
 no endeavor to conceal. Both their importunities and 
 threatenings had generally been resisted, however, and 
 with an obstinacy that cannot be easily explained, I per- 
 sisted in my unreasonable design. I was blessed as a 
 husband and father, but neither the thought of home, 
 wife, nor child checked me in my inexplicable course. I 
 was certainly irresponsible, perhaps a monomaniac, and 
 yet on the subject in which I was absorbed I preserved 
 my mental equipoise, and knowingly followed a course 
 that finally brought me into the deepest slough of trouble, 
 and lost to me forever all that man loves most dearly. An 
 overruling spirit, perhaps the shade of one of the old 
 alchemists, possessed me, and in the face of obstacles that 
 would have caused most men to reflect and retrace their 
 steps I madly rushed onward. The influence that im- 
 pelled me, whatever it may have been, was irresistible. 
 I apparently acted the part of agent, subject to an ever- 
 present master essence, and under this dominating spirit 
 or demon my mind was powerless in its subjection. My 
 soul was driven imperiously by that impelling and inde- 
 scribable something, and was as passive and irresponsible 
 as lycopodium that is borne onward in a steady current of 
 air. Methods were vainly sought by those who loved 
 me, brethren of the lodge, and others who endeavored to 
 induce me to change my headstrong purpose, but I could 
 
Kidnapped 41 
 
 neither accept their counsels nor heed their forebodings. 
 Summons by law were served on me in order to dis- 
 concert me, and my numerous small debts became the 
 pretext for legal warrants, until at last all my papers 
 (excepting my "Confession"), and my person also, were 
 seized, upon an execution served by a constable. Minor 
 claims were quickly satisfied, but when I regained my 
 liberty the aggression continued. Even arson was re- 
 sorted to, and the printing office that held my manuscript 
 was fired one night, that the obnoxious revelation which 
 I persisted in putting into print might be destroyed. 
 Finally I found myself separated by process of law from 
 home and friends, an inmate of a jail. My opponents, 
 as I now came to consider them, had confined me in 
 prison for a debt of only two dollars, a sufficient amount 
 at that time, in that State, for my incarceration. Smart- 
 ing under the humiliation, my spirit became still more 
 rebellious, and I now, perhaps justly, came to view myself 
 as a martyr. It had been first asserted that I had stolen 
 a shirt, but I was not afraid of any penalty that could be 
 laid on me for this trumped-up charge, believing that 
 the imputation and the arrest would be shown to be de- 
 signed as wilful oppression. Therefore it was that, when 
 this contemptible arraignment had been swept aside, and 
 I was freed by a justice of the peace, I experienced 
 more than a little surprise at a rearrest, and at finding 
 myself again thrown into jail. I knew that it had been 
 decreed by my brethren that I must retract and destroy 
 my "Confession," and this fact made me the more deter- 
 mined to prevent its destruction, and I persisted sullenly 
 in pursuing my course. On the evening of August 12th, 
 1826, my jailer's wnfe informed me that the debt for which 
 I had been incarcerated had been paid by unknown 
 "friends," and that I could depart ; and I accepted the 
 statement without question. Upon stepping from the 
 door of the jail, however, my arms were firmly grasped 
 by two persons, one on each side of me, and before I could 
 realize the fact that I was being kidnapped, I was thrust 
 
42 Etidorhpa 
 
 into a closed coach, which immediately rolled away, but 
 not until I made an outcry which, if heard by any one. 
 was unheeded. 
 
 "For your own sake be quiet," said one of my compan- 
 ions in confinement, for the carriage was draped to exclude 
 the light, and was as dark as a dungeon. My spirit re- 
 belled ; I felt that I was on the brink of a remarkable, 
 perhaps perilous experience, and I indignantly replied by 
 asking : 
 
 "What have, I done that you should presume forcibly 
 to imprison me? Am I not a freeman of America?" 
 
 "What have you done?" he answered. "Have you not 
 bound yourself by a series of vows that are sacred and 
 should be inviolable, and have you not broken them as 
 no other man has done before you? Have you not be- 
 trayed your trust, and deserved a severe judgment? Did 
 you not voluntarily ask admission into our ancient 
 brotherhood, and in good faith were you not initiated 
 into our sacred mysteries ? Did you not obligate yourself 
 before man, and on your sacred honor promise to pre- 
 .serve our secrets ?" 
 
 "I did," I replied; "but previously I had sworn before 
 a higher tribunal to scatter this precious wisdom to the 
 world." 
 
 "Yes," he said, "and you know full well the depth of 
 the self-sought solemn oath that you took — more solemn 
 is it than that prescribed by any open court on earth." 
 
 "This I do not deny," I said, "and yet I am glad that I 
 accomplished my object, even though you have now, as 
 is evident, the power to pronounce my sentence." 
 
 "You should look for the death sentence," was the re- 
 ply, "but it has been ordained instead that you are to be 
 given a lengthened life. You should expect bodily destruc- 
 tion ; but, on the contrary, you will pass on in conscious- 
 ness of earth and earthly concerns when we are gone. 
 Your name will be known to all lands, and yet from this 
 time you will be unknown. For the welfare of future hu- 
 manity, you will be thrust to a height in our order that 
 
Kidnapped 43 
 
 will annihilate you as a mortal being, and yet you will ex- 
 ist, suspended between life and death, and in that interme- 
 diate state will know that you exist. You have, as you 
 confess, deserved a severe punishment, but we can only 
 punish in accordance with an unwritten law, that in- 
 structs the person punished, and elevates the human race 
 in consequence. You stand alone among mortals in that 
 you have openly attempted to give our most sacred prop- 
 erty to those who have not earned it, a property that did 
 not belong to you, property that you have only been per- 
 mitted to handle, that has been handed from man to man 
 from before the time of Solomon, and which belongs to no 
 one man, and will continue to pass in this way from one 
 to another, as a hallowed trust, until there are no men, as 
 men now exist, to receive it. You must soon go into 
 the shadows of darkness, and there you will learn many of 
 the mysteries of life, the undeveloped mysteries that are 
 withheld from your fellows, but which you, who have 
 been so presumptuous and anxious for knowledge, are 
 destined to possess and solve. You will find secrets that 
 man, as man is now constituted, cannot yet discover, and 
 yet which the future man must gain and be instructed in. 
 As you have sowed, so shall you reap. You wished to be- 
 come a distributor of knowledge ; you shall now by bodily 
 trial and mental suffering obtain unsought knowledge 
 to distribute, and in time to come you will be commanded 
 to make your discoveries known. As your pathway is 
 surely laid out, so must you walk. To rebel is useless." 
 
 "Who has pronounced this sentence?" I asked. 
 
 "A judge, neither of heaven nor of earth." 
 
 "You speak in enigmas." 
 
 "No; I speak openly, and the truth. Our brother- 
 hood is linked with the past, and clasps hands with the 
 antediluvians ; the flood scattered the races of earth, but 
 did not disturb our secrets. The great love of wisdom 
 has from generation to generation led selected members 
 -of our organization to depths of study that our open 
 work does not touch upon, and behind our highest offi- 
 
44 Etidorhpa 
 
 cers, in the occult shades between the here and the here- 
 after, stand unknown and unseen agents who are initiated 
 into secrets above and beyond those known to the ordi- 
 nary craft. Those who are introduced into these inner 
 recesses acquire superhuman conceptions, and do not 
 give an open sign of fellowship ; they need no talisman. 
 They walk our streets possessed of powers unknown to 
 men, yet they concern themselves as mortals in the affairs 
 of men, and even their brethren of the initiated, open 
 order are unaware of their exalted condition. The means 
 by which they have been instructed, their several indi- 
 vidualities as well, have been concealed, because publicity 
 would destroy their value and injure humanity's cause." 
 
 Silence followed these vague disclosures, and the car- 
 riage rolled on. I was mystified and alarmed, and yet I 
 knew that, whatever might be the end of this nocturnal 
 ride, I had invited it — yes, deserved it — and I steeled my- 
 self to hear the sentence of my judges, in whose hands 
 I was powerless. The persons on the seat opposite me 
 continued their conversation in low tones, audible only 
 to themselves. An individual by my side neither moved 
 nor spoke. There were four of us in the carriage, as I 
 learned intuitively, although we were surrounded by utter 
 darkness. At length I addressed the companion beside 
 me, for the silence was unbearable. Friend or enemy 
 though he might be, anything rather than this long 
 silence. "How long shall we continue in this carriage?" 
 
 He made no reply. 
 
 After a time I again spoke. 
 
 "Can you not- tell me, comrade, how long our journey 
 will last ? When shall we reach our destination ?" 
 
 Silence only. 
 
 Putting out my hand. I ventured to touch my mate, 
 and found that he was tightly strapped — bound upright 
 to the seat and the back of the carriage. Leather thongs 
 held him firmly in position ; and as I pondered over the 
 mystery, I thought to myself, if I make a disturbance 
 they will not hesitate to manacle me as securely. My 
 
Kidnapped 45 
 
 custodians seemed, however, not to exercise a guard over 
 me, and yet I felt that they were certain of my inabihty 
 to escape. If the man on the seat was a prisoner, why 
 was he so reticent? why did he not answer my ques- 
 tions? I came to the conclusion that he must be gagged 
 as well as bound. Then I determined to find out if this 
 were so. I began to realize more forcibly that a terrible 
 sentence must have been meted me, and I half hoped that 
 from my partner in captivity I could get some informa- 
 tion regarding our destination. Sliding my hand cau- 
 tiously along his chest and under his chin, I intended to 
 remove the gag from his mouth, when I felt my flesh 
 creep, for it came in contact with the cold, rigid flesh of a 
 corpse. The man was dead and stifif. 
 
 The shock unnerved me. I had begun to experience 
 the results of a severe mental strain, partly induced by the 
 recent imprisonment and extended previous persecution, 
 and partly by the mysterious significance of the language 
 in which I had recently been addressed. The sentence, 
 "You will now go into the Valley of the Shadow of 
 Death, and learn the mysteries of life," kept ringing 
 through my head, and even then I sat beside a corpse. 
 After this discovery I remained for a time in a semi- 
 stupor, in a state of profound dejection — how long I 
 cannot say. Then I experienced an inexplicable change, 
 such as I imagine comes over a condemned man without 
 hope of reprieve, and I became unconcerned as a man 
 might who had accepted his destiny, and stoically deter- 
 mined to await it. Perhaps moments passed, it may 
 have been hours, and then indifference gave place to re- 
 viving curiosity. I realized that I could die but once, and 
 I coolly and complacently revolved the matter, speculat- 
 ing over my possible fate. As I look back on the night in 
 which I rode beside that dead man, facing the mysterious 
 agents of an all-powerful judge, I marvel over a mental 
 condition that permitted me finally to rest in peace and 
 slumber in unconcern. So I did, however, and after a 
 period, the length of which I am not able to estimate, I 
 
46 Etidorhpa 
 
 awoke, and soon thereafter the carriage stopped, and 
 our horses were changed, after which our journey was 
 resumed, to continue hour after hour, and at last I slept 
 again, leaning back in the corner. Suddenly I was vio- 
 lently shaken, awakened from slumber, and commanded 
 to alight. It was in the gray of morning, and before 
 I could realize what was happening I was transferred 
 by my captors to another carriage, and the dead man 
 also was rudely hustled along and thrust beside me, my 
 companions speaking to him as though he were alive. 
 Indeed, as I look back on these manoeuvres, I perceive 
 that, to all appearances, I was one of the abducting party, 
 and that our actions were really such as to induce an 
 observer to believe this dead man to be an obstinate pris- 
 oner, and myself one of his official guards. The drivers 
 of the carriages seemed to give us no attention ; they sat 
 upright and unconcerned, and certainly neither of them 
 interested himself in our transfer. The second carriage, 
 like the one previously described, was securely closed, and 
 then our journey was continued. The darkness was as 
 of a dungeon. It may have been days, I could not tell 
 anything about the passage of time ; on and on we rode. 
 Occasionally food and drink were handed in, but my 
 captors held to their course, and at last I was taken from 
 the vehicle and transferred to a block-house. 
 
 I had been carried rapidly and in secret a hundred or 
 more miles, perhaps into another State, and probably all 
 traces of my journey were effectually lost to outsiders. 
 I was in the hands of men who implicitly obeyed the 
 orders of their superiors, masters whom they had never 
 seen, and probably did not know. I needed no reminder 
 of the fact that I had violated every sacred pledge volun- 
 tarily made to the craft, and now that they held me 
 powerless, I well knew that, wdiatever the punishment 
 assigned, I had invited it, and could not prevent its ful- 
 filment. That it would be severe. I realized ; that it would 
 not be in accordance with ordinary human law, I ac- 
 cepted. Had I not secretly in my little room in that obscure 
 
Kidnapped 47 
 
 Stone Tavern, engrossed on paper the mystic sentences 
 that never before had been penned, and were unknown, 
 excepting to persons initiated into our sacred mysteries? 
 Had I not previously, in the most solemn manner, before 
 these words had been imparted to my keeping, sworn 
 to keep them inviolate and secret? And had I not delib- 
 erately broken that sacred vow, and scattered the hoarded 
 sentences broadcast? My part as a brother in this fra- 
 ternal organization was that of the holder only of prop- 
 erty that belonged to no man, that had been handed 
 from one to another through the ages, sacredly cherished, 
 and faithfully protected by men of many tongues, always 
 considered a trust, a charge of honor, and never before 
 betrayed. My crime was deep and dark. I shuddered. 
 
 "Come what may," I mused, reflecting over my per- 
 fidy, "I am ready for the penalty, and my fate is deserved ; 
 it cannot but be a righteous one." 
 
 The words of the occupant of the carriage occurred to 
 me again and again ; that one sentence kept ringing in my 
 brain ; I could not dismiss it : "You have been tried, con- 
 victed, and we are of those appointed to carry out the 
 sentence of the judges." 
 
 The black silence of my lonely cell beat against me ; 
 I could feel the absence of sound, I could feel the dismal 
 weight of nothingness, and in my solitude and distraction 
 I cried out in anguish to the invisible judge : "I am ready 
 for my sentence, whether it be death or imprisonment for 
 life ;" and still the further words of the occupant of the 
 carriage passed through my mind : "You will now go into 
 the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and will learn the 
 mysteries of Life." 
 
 Then I slept, to awaken and sleep again. I kept no 
 note of time ; it may have been days or weeks, so far as 
 my record could determine. An attendant came at inter- 
 vals to minister to my wants, always masked completely, 
 ever silent. 
 
 That I was not entirely separated from mankind, how- 
 ever, I felt assured, for occasionally sounds of voices 
 
48 Etidorhpa 
 
 came to me from without. Once I ventured to shout 
 aloud, hoping to attract attention ; but the persons whom 
 I felt assured overheard me paid no attention to my 
 lonely cry. At last one night my door opened abruptly, 
 and three men entered. 
 
 "Do not fear," said their spokesman, "we aim to protect 
 you ; keep still, and soon you will be a free man." 
 
 I consented quietly to accompany them, for to refuse 
 would have been in vain, and was conducted to a boat, 
 which I found contained a corpse — the one I had jour- 
 neyed with, I suppose — and embarking, we were silently 
 rowed to the middle of the river, our course being diag- 
 onally from the shore, and there the dead man was thrown 
 overboard. Then our boat returned to the desolate bank. 
 
 Thrusting me into a carriage, that, on our return to 
 the river bank, we found awaiting us, my captors gave 
 a signal, and I was driven away in the darkness, as 
 silently as before, and our journey was continued, I be- 
 lieve, for fully two days. I was again confined in another 
 log cabin, with but one door, and destitute of windows. 
 My attendants were masked, they neither spoke to me as 
 they day after day supplied my wants, nor did they give 
 me the least information on any subject, until at last I 
 abandoned all hope of ever regaining my liberty. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A WILD NIGHT 1 AM PREMATURELY AGED. 
 
 In the depths of night I was awakened by a noise made 
 by the opening of a door, and one by one seven masked 
 figures silently stalked into my prison. Each bore a 
 lighted torch, and they passed me as I lay on the floor 
 in my clothes (for I had no bedding), and ranged them- 
 selves in a line. I arose, and seated myself, as directed 
 to do, upon the only stool in the room. Swinging into a 
 semicircle, the weird line wound about me, and from the 
 one seat on which I rested, in the centre of the room, I 
 gazed successively upon seven pairs of gleaming eyes, 
 each pair directed at myself ; and as I turned from one 
 to another, the black cowl of each deepened into dark- 
 ness and grew more hideous. 
 
 "Men or devils," I cried, "do your worst ! Make me, 
 if such is your will, as that sunken corpse beside which 
 I was once seated ; but cease your persecutions. I have 
 atoned for my indiscretions a thousandfold, and this sus- 
 pense is unbearable ; I demand to know what is to be my 
 doom, and I desire its fulfilment." 
 
 Then one stepped forward, facing me squarely — the 
 others closed together around him and me. Raising his 
 forefinger, he pointed it close to my face, and, as his sharp 
 eyes glittered from behind the black mask, piercing 
 through me, he slowly said : "Why do you not say 
 brothers?" 
 
 "Horrible," I rejoined ; "stop this mockery. Have I 
 not suffered enough from your persecutions to make me 
 reject that word as applied to yourselves? You can but 
 murder ; do your duty to your unseen masters, and end 
 this prolonged torture!" 
 
 "Brother," said the spokesman, "you well know that 
 
50 Etidorhpa 
 
 the sacred rules of our order will not permit us to murder 
 any human being-. We exist to benefit humanity, to lead 
 the wayward back across the burning desert into the path- 
 ways of the righteous ; not to destroy or persecute a 
 brother. Ours is an eleemosynary institution, instructing 
 its members, helping them to seek happiness. You are 
 now expiating the crime you have committed, and the 
 good in your spirit rightfully revolts against the bad, for 
 in divulging to the world our mystic signs and brotherly 
 greetings you have sinned against yourself more than 
 against others. The sting of conscience, the bitings of 
 remorse, punish you." 
 
 "True," I cried, as the full significance of what he said 
 burst upon me, "too true ; but I bitterly repent my 
 treachery. Others can never know how my soul is har- 
 rowed by the recollection of the enormity of that breach 
 of confidence. In spite of my open, careless, or defiant 
 bearing, my heart is humble, and my spirit cries out for 
 mercy. By night and by day I have in secret cursed my- 
 self for heeding an unhallowed mandate, and I have 
 long looked forward to the judgment that I should suffer 
 for my perfidy, for I have appreciated that the day of 
 reckoning would surely appear. I do not rebel, and I re- 
 call my wild language ; I recant my 'Confession,' I re- 
 nounce myself! I say to you in all sincerity, brothers, 
 do your duty, only I beg of you to slay me at once, and 
 end my suspense. I await my doom. What mote it be ?" 
 
 Grasping my hand, the leader said : "You are ready as 
 a member of our order: we can now judge you as we have 
 been commanded ; had you persisted in calling us devils 
 in your mistaken frenzy, we should have been forced 
 to reason with you until you returned again to us, and 
 became one of us. Our judgment is for you alone ; the 
 world must not now know its nature, at least so far as we 
 are concerned. Those you see here are not your judges ; 
 we are agents sent to labor with you, to draw you back 
 into our ranks, to bring you into a condition that will 
 enable you to carry out the sentence that you have drawn 
 
A Wild Night -51 
 
 upon yourself, for you must be your own doomsman. In 
 the first place, we are directed to gain your voluntary 
 consent to leave this locality. You can no longer take 
 part in affairs that interested you before. To the people 
 of this vState, and to your home and kindred, you must 
 become a stranger for all time. Do you consent ?" 
 
 "Yes,'' I answered, for I knew that I must acquiesce. 
 
 "In the next place you must help us to remove all 
 traces of your identity. You must, so far as the world is 
 concerned, leave your body where you have apparently 
 been drowned, for a world's benefit, a harmless mockery 
 to deceive the people, and also to make an example for 
 others who are weak. Are you readv?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then remove your clothing, and replace it with this 
 suit." 
 
 I obeyed and changed my garments, receiving others 
 in return. One of the party then, taking from beneath 
 his gown a box containing several bottles of liquids, pro- 
 ceeded artfully to mix and compound them, and then 
 to paint my face with the combination, which after being 
 mixed, formed a clear solution. 
 
 "Do not fear to wash," said the spokesman, "the effect 
 of this lotion is permanent enough to stay until you are 
 well out of this State." 
 
 I passed my hand over my face ; it was drawn into 
 wrinkles as a film of gelatine might have been shrivelled 
 under the influence of a strong tannin or astringent 
 liquid ; beneath my fingers it felt like the furrowed face of 
 a very old man, but I experienced no pain. I vainly tried 
 to smooth the wrinkles ; immediately upon removing the 
 pressure of my hand the furrows reappeared. 
 
 Next, another applied a colorless liquid freely to my 
 hair and beard ; he rubbed it well, and afterward wiped it 
 dry with a towel. A mirror was thrust beneath my gaze. 
 I started back ; the transformation was complete. My ap- 
 pearance had entirely changed. My face had become 
 aged and wrinkled, my hair as white as snow. 
 
52 Etidorlipa 
 
 I cried aloud in amazement : "Am I sane, is this a 
 dream?" 
 
 "It is not a dream ; but, under methods that are in exact 
 accordance with natural physiological laws, we have been 
 enabled to transform your appearance from that of one in 
 the prime of manhood into the semblance of an old man, 
 and that, too, without impairment of your vitality." An- 
 other of the masked men opened a curious little casket 
 that I perceived was surmounted by an alembic and other 
 alchemical figures, and embossed with an Oriental de- 
 sign. He drew from it a lamp which he lighted with a 
 taper; the flame that resulted, first pale blue, then yellow, 
 next violet, and finally red, seemed to become more weird 
 and ghastly with each mutation, as I gazed spellbound 
 upon its fantastic changes. Then, after these transfor- 
 mations, it burned steadily with the final strange blood- 
 red hue, and he now held over the blaze a tiny cup, which, 
 in a few moments, commenced to sputter, and then 
 smoked, exhaling a curious, epipolic, semi-luminous 
 vapor. I was commanded to inhale the vapor. 
 
 I hesitated; the thought rushed upon me, "Now I am 
 another person, so cleverly disguised that even my own 
 friends would not perhaps know me, this vapor is de- 
 signed to suffocate me. and my body, if found, will not 
 now be known, and could not be identified when discov- 
 ered." 
 
 "Do not fear," said the spokesman, as if divining my 
 thought, "there is no danger," and at once I realized, by 
 fjuick reasoning, that if my death were demanded, my 
 body might long since have been easily destroyed, and all 
 this ceremony would have been unnecessary. 
 
 I hesitated no longer, but drew into my lungs the vapor 
 that arose from the mysterious cup, freely expanding 
 my chest several times, and then asked, "Is not that 
 enough?" Despair now overcame me. My voice, no 
 longer the full, strong tone of a man in middle life and 
 perfect strength, squeaked and quavered, as if impaired 
 by palsy. I had seen my image in a mirror, an old man 
 
A Wild Night 53 
 
 with wrinkled face and white hair ; I now heard myself 
 speak with the voice of an octogenarian. 
 
 "What have you done?" I cried. 
 
 "We have obeyed your orders ; you told us you were 
 ready to leave your own self here, and the work is com- 
 plete. The man who entered has disappeared. If you 
 should now stand in the streets of your village home, 
 and cry to your former friends, 'It is I, for whom you 
 seek,' they would smile, and call you a madman. Know," 
 continued the voice, "that there is an Eastern metaphysi- 
 cal lore, more true philosophy than is embodied in the 
 sciences of to-day, and that by means of the ramifications 
 of our order it becomes possible, when necessary, for 
 him who stands beyond the inner and upper Worshipful 
 Master, to draw these treasures from the occult Wisdom 
 possessions of Oriental sages who forget nothing and lose 
 nothing. Have we not been permitted to do his bid- 
 ding well?" 
 
 "Yes," I squeaked ; "and I wish that you had done it 
 better. I would that I were dead." 
 
 "When the time comes, if necessary, your dead body 
 will be fished from the water," was the reply ; "witnesses, 
 have seen the drowning tragedy, and will surely identify 
 the corpse." 
 
 "And may I go ? am I free now ?" I asked. 
 
 "Ah," said he, "that is not for us to say; our part of 
 the work is fulfilled, and we can return to our native 
 lands, and resume again our several studies. So far as 
 we are concerned, you are free, but we have been directed' 
 to pass you over to the keeping of others who will carry 
 forward this judgment — there is another step." 
 
 "Tell me," I cried, once more desponding, "tell me the 
 full extent of my sentence." 
 
 "That is not known to us, and probably is not known 
 to any one man. So far as the members of our order are 
 concerned, you have now vanished. When you leave our 
 sight this night, we will also separate from one another ; 
 we shall know no more of you and your future than will 
 
54 Etidorhpa 
 
 those of our working order who Hve in this section of the 
 country. W'e have no personal acquaintance with the 
 guide that has been selected to conduct you farther, and 
 who will appear in due season, and we make no surmise 
 concerning the result of your journey, only do we know 
 that you will not be killed, for you have a work to per- 
 form, and will continue to exist long after others of 
 your age are dead. F'arewell, brother ; we have discharged 
 our duty, and that by your consent, now we must return to 
 our various pursuits. In a short time all evidence of your 
 unfortunate mistake, the crime committed by you in 
 printing our sacred charges, wall have vanished. Even 
 now, emissaries are ordained to collect and destroy the 
 written record that tells of your weakness, and with the 
 destruction of that testimony, for every copy will surely 
 be annihilated, and with your disappearance from among 
 men, for this also is to follow, our responsibility for you 
 will cease." 
 
 Each of the seven men advanced, and grasped my 
 hand, giving me the grip of brotherhood, and then, with- 
 out a word, they severally and silently departed into the 
 outer darkness. As the last man disappeared, a figure 
 entered the door, clad and masked exactly like those who 
 had gone. He removed the long black gown in which he 
 was enveloped, threw the mask from his face and stood 
 before me, a slender, graceful, bright-looking young man. 
 By the light of the candle I saw him distinctly, and was 
 at once struck by his amiable, cheerful countenance, and 
 my heart bounded with a sudden hope. I had tem- 
 porarily forgotten the transformation that had been made 
 in my person, which, altogether painless. had left no phys- 
 ical sensation, and thought of myself as I had formerly 
 existed ; my soul was still my own, I imagined ; my blood 
 seemed unchanged, and must flow as rapidly as before; 
 my strength was unaltered, indeed I was in self-con- 
 sciousness still in the prime of life. 
 
 "Excuse me. Father," said the stranger, "but my ser- 
 
A Wild Night S5 
 
 vices have been sought as a guide for the first part of a 
 journey that I am informed you intend to take." 
 
 His voice was mild and pleasant, his bearing respect- 
 ful, but the peculiar manner in which he spoke convinced 
 me that he knew that, as a guide, he must conduct me 
 to some previously designated spot, and that he pur- 
 posed to do so, with or without my consent, was evident. 
 
 "Why do you call me Father?" I attempted to say, 
 but as the first few words escaped my lips, the recollec- 
 tion of the events of the night rushed upon me, for in- 
 stead of my own, I recognized the piping voice of the 
 old man I had now become, and my tongue faltered ; the 
 sentence was unspoken. 
 
 "You would ask me why I call you Father, I perceive ; 
 well, because I am directed to be a son to you, to care 
 for your wants, to make your journey as easy and pleas- 
 ant as possible, to guide you quietly and carefully to the 
 point that will next prove of interest to you." 
 
 I stood before him a free man, in the prime of life, 
 full of energy, and this stripling alone interposed between 
 myself and liberty. Should I permit the slender youth 
 to carry me away as a prisoner ? would it not be best to 
 thrust him aside, if necessary, crush him to the earth? 
 go forth in my freedom? Yet I hesitated, for he might 
 have friends outside ; probably he was not alone. 
 
 "There are no companions near us," said he, reading 
 my mind, "and, as I do not seem formidable, it is natural 
 you should weigh in your mind the probabilites of escape ; 
 but you cannot evade your destiny, and you must not at- 
 tempt to deny yourself the pleasure of my company. You 
 must leave this locality, and leave without a regret. In 
 order that you may acquiesce willingly I propose that to- 
 gether we return to your former home, which, however, 
 you will find no longer to be a home. I will accompany 
 you as a companion, as your son. You may speak, with 
 one exception, to whomsoever you care to address ; may 
 call on any of your old associates, may assert openly who 
 
56 Etidorhpa 
 
 you are, or whatever and whoever you please to represent 
 yourself, only I must also have the privilege of joining 
 in the conversation." 
 
 "Agreed," I cried, and extended my hand ; he grasped 
 it, and then, by the light of the candle, I saw a peculiar 
 expression flit over his face, as he added : 
 
 "To one person only, as I have said, ana you have 
 promised, you must not speak — your wife." 
 
 "I bowed my head, and a flood of sorrowful reflections 
 swept over me. Of all the world the one whom I longed 
 to meet, to clasp in my arms, to counsel in my distress, was 
 the wife of my bosom, and I begged him to withdraw his 
 cruel injunction. 
 
 "You should have thought of her before ; now it is 
 too late. To permit you to meet and speak with her 
 would be dangerous ; she might pierce your disguise. Of 
 all others there is no fear." 
 
 "Must I go with you into an unknown future without 
 a farewell kiss from my little child or from my babe 
 scarce three months old?" 
 
 "It has been so ordained." 
 
 I threw myself on the floor and moaned. "This is too 
 hard, too hard for human heart to bear. Life has no 
 charm to a man thrust from all he holds most dear, home, 
 friends, family." 
 
 "The men who relinquish such pleasures and such 
 comforts are those who do the greatest good to human- 
 ity," said the youth. "The multitude exist to propagate 
 the race, as animal progenitors of the multitudes that are 
 to follow, and the exceptional philanthropist is he who 
 denies himself material bliss, and punishes himself in 
 order to work out a problem such as it has been ordained 
 for you to solve. Do not argue further — the line is 
 marked, and you must walk direct." 
 
 Into the blaze of the old fireplace of that log house, for, 
 although it was autumn, the night was chilly, he then 
 cast his black robe and false face, and, as they turned to 
 ashes, the last evidences of the vivid acts through which 
 
A Wild Night 57 
 
 I had passed were destroyed. In utter misery, I tried 
 next to reason that what I experienced was all a halluci- 
 nation. I dozed, and awoke startled, half conscious only, 
 as one in a nightmare ; I said to myself, "A dream ! a 
 dream \" and slept again. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A LESSON IN MIND STUDY. 
 
 The door of the cabin was open when I awoke, the 
 sun shone brightly, and my friend, cheerful and uncon- 
 cerned, said : "Father, we must soon start on our jour- 
 ney ; I have taken advantage of your refreshing sleep, 
 and have engaged breakfast at yonder farmhouse; our 
 meal awaits us." 
 
 I arose, washed my wrinkled face, combed my white 
 hair, and shuddered as I saw in a pocket mirror the re- 
 flection of my figure, an aged, apparently decrepit man. 
 
 "Do not be disturbed at your feeble appearance," said 
 my companion, "your infirmities are not real. Few men 
 have ever been permitted to drink of the richness of the 
 revelations that await you ; and in view of these expecta- 
 tions the fact that you are prematurely aged in appear- 
 ance should not unnerve you. Be of good heart, and 
 when you say the word we shall start on our journey, 
 which must begin as soon as you have said farewell to 
 former friends and acquaintances." 
 
 I made no reply, but silently accompanied him, for my 
 thoughts were in the past, and my reflections were far 
 from pleasant. 
 
 We reached the farmhouse, and as I observed the care 
 and attention extended me by the pleasant-faced house- 
 wife, I realized that, in one respect at least, old age 
 brought its compensation. After breakfast a man 
 emerged from the farmer's barn, driving a team of horses 
 attached to an open spring-wagon, which, in obedience 
 to the request of my guide, I entered, accompanied by 
 my young friend, who directed that we be driven toward 
 the village from which I had been abducted. He seemed 
 to know my past life as I knew it ; he asked me to 
 
A Lesson in Mind Study 59 
 
 select those of my friends to whom I first wished 
 to bid farewell, even mentioning their names ; he seemed 
 all that a patient, faithful son could be, and I began to 
 wonder at his audacity, even as much as I admired his 
 self-confidence. 
 
 We sat together on the back seat of the open spring - 
 wagon, in full sight of passers, no attempt being made 
 to conceal my person. Thus we travelled for two days, 
 and on our course we passed through a large city with 
 which I was acquainted, a city that my abductors had 
 probably previously carried me through and beyond. I 
 found that my "son" possessed fine conversational power, 
 and a rich mine of information, and that he became in- 
 creasingly interesting as he drew from his fund of knowl- 
 edge, and poured into my listening ears an entrancing 
 strain of historical and metaphysical information. Never 
 at a loss for a word or an idea, he appeared to discern 
 my cogitations, and as my mind wandered in this or that 
 direction he fell into the channel of my fancies, and 
 answered my unspoken thoughts, my mind-questions or 
 meditations as pertinently as though I had spoken them. 
 
 His accomplishments, for the methods of his percep- 
 tion were unaccompanied by any endeavor to draw me 
 into word expression, made me aware at least, that in 
 him I had to deal with a man unquestionably possessed 
 of more than ordinary intellect and education, and as this 
 conviction entered my mind he changed his subject and 
 promptly answered the silent inquiry, speaking as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "Have you not sometimes felt that in yourself there 
 may exist undeveloped senses that await an awakening 
 touch to open to yourself a new world, senses that may 
 be fully developed, but which saturate each other and 
 neutralize themselves ; quiescent, closed circles which you 
 cannot reach, satisfied circuits slumbering within your 
 body and which defy your efiForts to utilize them? In 
 your dreams have you not seen sights that words are 
 inadequate to describe, that your faculties cannot retain 
 
6o Etidorhpa 
 
 in waking moments, and which dissolve into intangible 
 nothingness, leaving only a vague, shadowy outline as the 
 mind quickens, or rather when the senses that possess 
 you in sleep relinquish the body to the returning vital 
 functions and spirit? This unconscious conception of 
 other planes, a beyond or betwixt, that is neither mental 
 nor material, neither here nor located elsewhere, belongs 
 to humanity in general, and is made evident from the 
 insatiable desire of men to pry into phenomena latent or 
 recondite that offer no apparent return to humanity. This 
 desire has given men the knowledge they now possess of 
 the sciences ; sciences yet in their infancy. Study in this 
 direction is at present altogether of the material plane, 
 but in time to come men will gain control of outlying 
 senses which will enable them to step from the seen into 
 the consideration of matter or force that is now subtle and 
 evasive, which must be accomplished by means of the 
 latent faculties that I have indicated. There will be an 
 unconscious development of new mind-forces in the stu- 
 dent of nature as the rudiments of these so-called sciences 
 are elaborated. Step by step, as the ages pass, the facul- 
 ties of men will, under progressive series of evolutions, 
 imperceptibly pass into higher phases until that which is 
 even now possible with some individuals of the purified 
 esoteric school, but which would seem miraculous if prac- 
 tised openly at this day, will prove feasible to humanity 
 generally and be found in exact accord with natural laws. 
 The conversational method of men, whereby communion 
 between human beings is carried on by disturbing the air 
 by means of vocal organs so as to produce mechanical pul- 
 sations of that medium, is crude in the extreme. Mind 
 craves to meet mind, but cannot yet thrust matter aside, 
 and, in order to communicate, one with another, the im- 
 pression one mind wishes to convey to another must 
 be first made on the brain matter that accompanies it, 
 which in turn influences the organs of speech, inducing 
 a disturbance of the air by the motions of the vocal 
 organs, which, by undulations that reach to another be- 
 
A Lesson in Mind Study 6 1 
 
 ing, act on his ear, and, secondarily, on the earthly matter 
 of his brain, and finally, by this roundabout course, impress 
 the second being's mind. In this transmission of motions 
 there is great waste of energy and loss of time, but such 
 methods are a necessity of the present slow, much-ob- 
 structed method of communication. There is in culti- 
 vated man an innate craving for something more facile, 
 and often a partly developed conception, spectral and 
 vague, appears, and the being feels that there may be for 
 mortals a richer, brighter life, a higher earthly existence 
 that science does not now indicate. Such intimation of a 
 deeper play of faculties is now most vivid with men 
 during the perfect loss of mental self as experienced in 
 dreams, which as yet man in the quick cannot grasp, and 
 which fade as he awakes. As mental sciences are de- 
 veloped, investigators will find that the medium known 
 as air is unnecessary as a means of conveying mind con- 
 ceptions from one person to another ; that material sounds 
 and word pulsations are cumbersome ; that thought force 
 unexpressed may be used to accomplish more than speech 
 can do, and that physical exertions as exemplified in mo- 
 tion of matter such as I have described will be unneces- 
 sary for mental communication. As door after door in 
 these directions shall open before men, mystery after 
 mystery will be disclosed, and vanish as mysteries to 
 reappear as simple facts. Phenomena that are impos- 
 sible and unrevealed to the scientist of to-day will be 
 familiar to the coming multitude, and at last, as by de- 
 grees, clearer knowledge is evolved, the vocal language 
 of men will disappear, and humanity, regardless of 
 nationality, will, in silence and even in darkness, converse 
 eloquently together in mind language. That which is 
 now esoteric will become exoteric. Then mind will meet 
 mind, as my mind now impinges on your own, and, in 
 reply to your unuttered question regarding my apparently 
 unaccountable powers of perception, I say they are per- 
 fectly natural, but while I can read your thoughts, be- 
 cause of the fact that you cannot reciprocate in this direc- 
 
62 Etidorhpa 
 
 tion, I must use my voice to impress your mind. You 
 will know more of this, however, at a future day, for it 
 has been ordained that you are to be educated with an 
 object that is now concealed. At present you are inter- 
 ested mainly in the affairs of life as you know them, and 
 cannot enter into these purer spheres. We are, however, 
 approaching one of your former friends, and it may be 
 your pleasure to ask him some questions and to bid him 
 farewell." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 I CANNOT ESTABLISH MY IDENTITY. 
 
 In surprise I perceived coming toward us a light spring 
 wagon, in which rode one of my old acquaintances. 
 Pleasure at the discovery led me to raise my hat, wave it 
 around my head, and salute him even at the considerable 
 distance that then separated us. I was annoyed at the 
 look of curiosity that passed over his countenance, and 
 not until the two vehicles had stopped side by side did it 
 occur to me that I was unrecognized. I had been so en- 
 grossed in my companion's revelations that I had for- 
 gotten my unfortunate physical condition. 
 
 I stretched out my hand, I leaned over almost into the 
 other vehicle, and earnestly said : 
 
 "Do you not know me? Only a short time ago we sat 
 and conversed side by side." 
 
 A look of bewilderment came over his features. "I 
 have never seen you that I can recall," he answered. 
 
 My spirit sank within me. Could it be possible that I 
 was really so changed? I begged him to try and recall 
 my former self, giving my name. "I am that person," I 
 added ; but he, with an expression of countenance that 
 told as plainly as words could speak that he considered 
 me deranged, touched his horse and drove on. 
 
 My companion broke the awkward silence. "Do you 
 know that I perceived between you two men an uncon- 
 scious display of mind-language, especially evident on 
 your part? You wished with all the earnestness of your 
 soul to bring yourself as you formerly appeared before 
 that man, and when it proved impossible, without a word 
 from him, his mind exhibited itself to your more earnest 
 intellect, and you realized that he said to himself, 'This 
 person is a poor lunatic' He told you his thoughts in 
 
64 Etidorhpa 
 
 mind-languag"e, as plainly as words could have spoken, 
 because the intense earnestness on your part quickened 
 your perceptive faculties, but he could not see your 
 mental state, and the pleading voice of the apparent 
 stranger before him could not convince the unconcerned 
 lethargic mind within him. I observed, however, in ad- 
 dition to what you noticed, that he is really looking for 
 you. That is the object of his journey, and I learn that 
 in every direction men are now spreading the news that 
 you have been kidnapped and carried from your jail. 
 However, we shall soon be in the village, and you will 
 then hear more about yourself." 
 
 We rode in silence while I meditated on my remark- 
 able situation. I could not resign myself without a 
 struggle to my approaching fate, and I felt even yet a 
 hope, although I seemed powerless in the hands of des- 
 tiny. Could I not, by some method, convince my friends 
 of my identity? I determined, forgetting the fact that 
 my guide was even then reading my mind, that upon the 
 next opportunity I would pursue a different course. 
 
 "It will not avail," my companion replied. "You must 
 do one of two things : you will voluntarily go with me, or 
 you will involuntarily go to an insane asylum. Neither 
 you nor I could by any method convince others that the 
 obviously decrepit old man beside me was but yesterday 
 hale, hearty, young and strong. You will find that you 
 cannot prove your identity, and as a friend, one of the 
 great brotherhood to which you belong, a craft that 
 deals charitably with all men and all problems, I advise 
 you to accept the situation as soon as possible after it be- 
 comes evident to your mind that you are lost to former 
 affiliations, and must henceforth be a stranger to the 
 people whom you know. Take my advice, and cease to 
 regret the past and cheerfully turn your thoughts to the 
 future. On one side of you the lunatic asylum is open ; 
 on the other, a journey into an unknown region, beyond 
 the confines of any known country. On the one hand, 
 imprisonment and subjection, perhaps abuse and neglect; 
 
I Cannot Establish My Identity 65 
 
 on the other, liberation of soul, evolution of faculty, and a 
 grasping of superior knowledge that is denied most men 
 — ^yes, withheld from all but a few persons of each gen- 
 eration, for only a few, unknown to the millions of this 
 world's inhabitants, have passed over the road you are 
 to travel. Just now you wished to meet your jailer of a 
 few hours ago ; it is a wise conclusion, and if he does 
 not recognize you, I ask in sincerity, who will be likely 
 to do so? We will drive straight to his home; but here 
 he comes." 
 
 Indeed, we were now in the village, where my mis- 
 erable journey began, and perhaps by chance — it seems 
 that it could not have been otherwise — my former jailer 
 actually approached us. 
 
 "If you please," said my companion, "I will assist you 
 to alight from the wagon, and you may privately con- 
 verse with him." 
 
 Our wagon stopped, my guide opened a conversation 
 with the jailer, saying that his friend wished to speak 
 with him, and then assisted me to alight, after which he 
 retired to a distance. I was vexed at my infirmities, 
 which embarrassed me most exasperatingly, but which 
 I knew were artificial ; my body appeared unwilling al- 
 though my spirit was anxious ; but do what I could to 
 control my actions, I involuntarily behaved like a de- 
 crepit old man. However, my mind was made up ; this 
 attempt to prove my personality should be the last; 
 failure now would prove the turning point, and I would 
 go willingly with my companion upon the unknown 
 journey if I could not convince the jailer of my identity. 
 
 Straightening myself before the expectant jailer, who, 
 with a look of inquisitiveness, regarded me as a stranger, 
 I asked if he knew my former self, giving my name. 
 
 "That I do," he replied, "and if I could find him at this 
 moment I would be relieved of a load of worry." 
 
 "Would you surely know him if you met him?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Assuredly," he replied ; "and if you bring tidings of 
 
66 Etidorhpa 
 
 his whereabouts, as your bearing indicates, speak, that I 
 may rid myself of suspicion and suspense." 
 
 Calling the jailer by name, I asked him if my counte- 
 nance did not remind him of the man he wished to find. 
 
 ''Not at all." 
 
 "Listen, does not my voice resemble that of your 
 escaped prisoner?" 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 With a violent effort I drew my form as straight as 
 possible, and stood upright before him, with every facial 
 muscle strained to its utmost, in a vain endeavor to bring 
 my wrinkled countenance to its former smoothness, and 
 with the energy that a drowning man might exert to 
 grasp a passing object, I tried to control my voice, and 
 preserve my identity by so doing, vehemently imploring 
 him, begging him to listen to my story. "I am the man 
 you seek ; I am the prisoner who, a few days ago, stood 
 in the prime of life before you. I have been spirited away 
 from you by men who are leagued with occult forces, 
 which extend forward among hidden mysteries, into 
 forces which illuminate the present, and reach backward 
 into the past unseen. These persons, by artful and 
 damnable manipulations under the guidance of a power 
 that has been evolved in the secrecy of past ages, and 
 transmitted only to a favored few, have changed the 
 strong man you knew into the one apparently feeble, who 
 now confronts you. Only a short period has passed since 
 I was your unwilling captive, charged with debt, a trifling 
 sum ; and then, as your sullen prisoner, I longed for free- 
 dom. Now I plead before you, with all my soul, I beg of 
 you to take me back to my cell. Seal your doors, and 
 hold me again, for your dungeon will now be to me a 
 paradise." 
 
 I felt that I was becoming frantic, for with each word 
 I realized that the jailer became more and more im- 
 patient and annoyed. I perceived that he believed me to 
 be a lunatic. Pleadings and entreaties were of no avail, 
 and my eagerness rapidly changed into despair until at 
 
I Cannot Establish My Identity 67 
 
 last I cried : "If you cannot believe my words, I will 
 throw myself on the mercy of my young companion. I 
 ask you to consider his testimony, and if he says that I 
 am not what I assert myself to be, I will leave my home 
 and country, and go with him quietly into the unknown 
 future." 
 
 He turned to depart, but I threw myself before him, 
 and beckoned the young man who, up to this time, had 
 stood aloof in respectful silence. He came forward, and 
 addressing the jailer, called him by name, and cor- 
 roborated my story. Yes, strange as it sounded to me, 
 he reiterated the substance of my narrative as I had re- 
 peated it. "Now, you will believe it," I cried in ecstasy ; 
 "now you need no longer question the facts that I have 
 related." 
 
 Instead, however, of accepting the story of the witness, 
 the jailer upbraided him. 
 
 "This is a preconcerted arrangement to get me into 
 ridicule or further trouble. You two have made up an 
 incredible story that on its face is fit only to be told to 
 men as crazy or designing as yourselves. This young 
 man did not even overhear your conversation with me, 
 and yet he repeats his lesson without a question from me 
 as to what I wish to learn of him." 
 
 "He can see our minds," I cried in despair. 
 
 "Crazier than I should have believed from your coun- 
 tenance," the jailer replied. "Of all the improbable 
 stories imaginable, you have attempted to inveigle me 
 into accepting that which is most unreasonable. If you 
 are leagued together intent on some swindling scheme, 
 I give you warning now that I am in no mood for trifling. 
 Go your way, and trouble me no more with this foolish 
 scheming, which villainy or lunacy of some description 
 must underlie." He turned in anger and left us. 
 
 "It is as I predicted," said my companion ; "you are lost 
 to man. Those who know you best will turn from you 
 soonest. I might become as wild as you are, in your in- 
 terest, and only serve to make your story appear more 
 
68 Etidorhpa 
 
 extravagant. In human affairs men judge and act ac- 
 cording to the Hmited knowledge at command of the 
 mukitude. Witnesses who tell the truth are often, in our 
 courts of law, stunned, as you have been, by the decisions 
 of a narrow-minded jury. Men sit on juries with little 
 conception of the facts of the case that is brought before 
 them ; the men who manipulate them are mere tools in 
 unseen hands that throw their several minds in antag- 
 onisms unexplainable to man. The judge is uncon- 
 sciously often a tool of his own errors or those of others. 
 One learned judge unties what another has fastened, each 
 basing his views on the same testimony, each rendering 
 his decision in accordance with law derived from the 
 same authority. Your case is that condition of mind that 
 men call lunacy. You can see much that is hidden from 
 others because you have become acquainted with facts 
 that their narrow education forbids them to accept, but, 
 because the majority is against you, they consider you 
 mentally unbalanced. The philosophy of men does not 
 yet comprehend the conditions that have operated on your 
 person, and as you stand alone, although in the right, all 
 men will oppose you, and you must submit to the views 
 of a misguided majority. In the eyes of a present gen- 
 eration you are crazy. A jury of your former peers could 
 not do else than so adjudge you, for you are not on the 
 same mental plane, and I ask, will you again attempt to 
 accomplish that which is as impossible as it would be for 
 you to drink the waters of Seneca Lake at one draught? 
 Go to those men and propose to drain that lake at one 
 gulp, and you will be listened to as seriously as when 
 you beg your former comrades to believe that you are an- 
 other person than what you seem. Only lengthened life 
 is credited with the production of physical changes that 
 under favorable conditions are possible of accomplish- 
 ment in a brief period, and such testimony as you could 
 bring, in the present state of human knowledge, would 
 only add to the proof of your lunacy." 
 
 "I see, I see," I said ; "and I submit. Lead on, I am 
 
I Cannot Establish My Identity 69 
 
 ready. Whatever my destined career may be, wherever 
 it may be, it can only lead to the grave." 
 
 "Do not be so sure of that," was the reply. 
 
 I shuddered instinctively, for this answer seemed to 
 imply that the stillness of the grave would be preferable 
 to my destiny. 
 
 We got into the wagon again, and a deep silence fol- 
 lowed as we rode along, gazing abstractedly on the quiet 
 fields and lonely farmhouses. Finally we reached a little 
 village. Here my companion dismissed the farmer, our 
 driver, paying him liberally, and secured lodgings in a 
 private family (I believe we were expected), and after 
 a hearty supper we retired. From the time we left the 
 jailer I never again attempted to reveal my identity. I 
 had lost my interest in the past, and found myself crav- 
 ing to know what the future had in store for me. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MY JOURNEY TOWARD THE END OF EARTH BEGINS. — THE 
 adepts' BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 My companion did not attempt to watch over my 
 motions or in any way to interfere with my freedom. 
 
 "I shall for a time necessarily be absent," he said, "ar- 
 ranging for our journey, and while I am getting ready 
 you must employ yourself as best you can. I ask you, 
 however, now to swear that, as you have promised, you 
 will not seek your wife and children." 
 
 To this I agreed. 
 
 "Hold up your hand," he said, and I repeated after 
 him : "All this I most solemnly and sincerely promise and 
 swear, with a firm and steadfast resolution to keep and 
 perform my oath, without the least equivocation, mental 
 reservation or self-evasion whatever." 
 
 "That will answer; see that you keep your oath thfs 
 time," he said, and then departed. Several days were 
 consumed before he returned, and during that time I was 
 an inquisitive and silent listener to the various conjec- 
 tures others were making regarding my abduction, which 
 event was becoming of general interest. Some of the 
 theories advanced were quite near the truth, others wild 
 and erratic. It seemed to me preposterous that the actor 
 himself could be in the very seat of the disturbance, will- 
 ing, anxious to testify, ready to prove the truth concern- 
 ing his position, and yet unable even to obtain a respectful 
 hearing from those most interested in his recovery. Men 
 gathered together discussing the "outrage ;" women, 
 children, even, talked of little else, and it was evident 
 that the entire country was aroused. New political 
 issues took their rise from the event, but the man who 
 
My Journey Begins 71 
 
 was the prime cause of the excitement was for a period a 
 willing and unwilling listener, as he had been a willing 
 and unwilling actor in the tragedy. 
 
 One morning my companion drove up in a light car- 
 riage, drawn by a span of fine, spirited, black horses. 
 
 "We are now ready," he said, and my unprecedented 
 journey began. 
 
 Wherever we stopped,! heard my name mentioned. Men 
 combined against men, brother was declaiming against 
 brother, neighbor was against neighbor, everywhere 
 suspicion was in the air. 
 
 "The passage of time alone can quiet these people," 
 said I. 
 
 "The usual conception of the term Time — an indescrib- 
 able something flowing at a constant rate — is erroneous," 
 replied my comrade. "Time is humanity's best friend, 
 and should be pictured as a ministering angel, instead of 
 a skeleton with hour-glass and scythe. Time does not 
 fly, but is permanent and quiescent, while restless, force- 
 impelled matter rushes onward. Force and matter fly; 
 Time reposes. At our birth we are wound up like a ma- 
 chine, to move for a certain number of years, grating 
 against Time. We grind against that complacent spirit, 
 and wear not Time, but ourselves away. We hold within 
 ourselves a certain amount of energy, which, an 
 evanescent form of matter, is the opponent of Time. 
 Time has no existence with inanimate objects. It is a 
 conception of the human intellect. Time is rest, perfect 
 rest, tranquillity such as man never realizes unless he 
 becomes a part of the sweet silences toward which human 
 life and human mind are drifting. So much for Time. 
 Now for Life. Disturbed energy in one of its forms, we 
 call Life ; and this Life is the great enemy of peace, the 
 opponent of steadfast perfection. Pure energy, the soul 
 of the universe, permeates all things with which man is 
 now acquainted, but when at rest is imperceptible to man, 
 while disturbed energy, according to its condition, is ap- 
 parent either as matter or as force. A substance or 
 
72 Etidorhpa 
 
 material body is a manifestation resulting from a disturb- 
 ance of energy. The agitating cause removed, the mani- 
 festations disappear, and thus a universe may be ex- 
 tinguished, without unbalancing the cosmos that remains. 
 The worlds known to man are conditions of abnormal 
 energy moving on separate planes through what men call 
 space. They attract to themselves bodies of similar de- 
 scription, and thus influence one another — they have each 
 a separate existence, and are swayed to and fro under the 
 influence of the various disturbances in energy common 
 to their rank or order, which we call forms of forces. 
 Unsettled energy also assumes numerous other ex- 
 pressions that are unknown to man, but which in all per- 
 ceptible forms is characterized by motion. Pure energy 
 cannot be appreciated by the minds of mortals. There 
 are invisible worlds beside those perceived by us in our 
 planetary system, unreachable centres of ethereal struc- 
 ture about us that stand in a higher plane of develop- 
 ment than earthly matter which is a gross form of dis- 
 turbed energy. There are also lower planes. Man's 
 acquaintance with the forms of energy is the result of his 
 power of perceiving the forms of matter of which he is 
 a part. Heat, light, gravitation, electricity and magnet- 
 ism are ever present in all perceivable substances, and, 
 although purer than earth, they are still manifestations of 
 absolute energ}', and for this reason are sensible to men, 
 but more evanescent than material bodies. Perhaps you 
 can conceive that if these disturbances could be removed, 
 matter or force would be resolved back into pure energy, 
 and would vanish. Such a dissociation is an ethereal 
 existence, and as pure energy the life spirit of all material 
 things is neither cold nor hot, heavy nor light, solid, liquid 
 nor gaseous — men cannot, as mortals now exist, see, feel, 
 smell, taste, or even conceive of it. It moves through 
 space as we do through it, a world of itself as transparent 
 to matter as matter is to it, insensible but ever present, a 
 reality to higher existences that rest in other planes, but 
 not to us an essence subject to scientific test, nor an en- 
 
My Journey Begins 73 
 
 tity. Of these problems and their connection with others 
 in the unseen depths beyond, you are not yet in a position 
 properly to judge, but before many years a new sense will 
 be given you or a development of latent senses by the 
 removal of those more gross, and a partial insight into an 
 unsuspected unseen, into a realm to you at present un- 
 known. 
 
 "It has been ordained that a select few from time to 
 time must pass over the threshold that divides a mortal's 
 present life from the future, and your lot has been cast 
 among the favored ones. It is or should be deemed a 
 privilege to be permitted to pass farther than human 
 philosophy has yet gone, into an investigation of the 
 problems of life ; this I say to encourage you. We have 
 in our order a handful of persons who have received the 
 accumulated fruits of the close attention others have 
 given to these subjects which have been handed to them 
 by the generations of men who have preceded. You are 
 destined to become as they are. This study of semi-oc- 
 cult forces has enabled those selected for the work to 
 master some of the concealed truths of being, and by the 
 partial development of a new sense or new senses, partly 
 to triumph over death. These facts are hidden from 
 ordinary man, and from the earth-bound workers of our 
 brotherhood, who cannot even interpret the words they 
 learn. The methods by which they are elucidated have 
 been locked from man because the world is not prepared 
 to receive them, selfishness being the ruling passion of 
 debased mankind, and publicity, until the chain of evi- 
 dence is more complete, would embarrass their further 
 evolutions, for man as yet lives on the selfish plane." 
 
 "Do you mean that, among men, there are a few per- 
 sons possessed of powers such as you have mentioned?" 
 
 "Yes ; they move here and there through all orders of 
 society, and their attainments are unknown, except to one 
 another, or, at most, to but few persons. These adepts 
 are scientific men, and may not even be recognized as 
 members of our organization; indeed it is often necessary. 
 
74 Etidorhpa 
 
 for obvious reasons, that they should not be known as 
 such. These studies must constantly be prosecuted in 
 various directions, and some monitors must teach others 
 to perform certain duties that are necessary to the grand 
 evolution. Hence, when a man has become one of our 
 brotherhood, from the promptings that made you one of 
 us, and has been as ready and determined to instruct out- 
 siders in our work as you have been, it is proper that he 
 should in turn be compelled to serve our people, and 
 eventually, mankind." 
 
 "Am I to infer from this," I exclaimed, a sudden light 
 breaking upon me, "that the alchemistic manuscript that 
 led me to the fraternity to which you are related may have 
 been artfully designed to serve the interest of that organ- 
 ization?" To this question I received no reply. After 
 an interval, I again sought information concerning the 
 order, and with more success. 
 
 "I understand that you propose that I shall go on a 
 journey of investigation for the good of our order and 
 also of humanity." 
 
 "True ; it is necessary that our discoveries be kept alive, 
 and it is essential that the men who do this work accept 
 the trust of their own accord. He who will not consent 
 to add to the common stock of knowledge and under- 
 standing must be deemed a drone in the hive of Nature 
 — but few persons, however, are called upon to serve as 
 you must serve. Men are scattered over the world with 
 this object in view, and unknown to their families or 
 even to other members of the order hold in solemn trust 
 our sacred revelations, and impart them to others as is 
 ordained, and thus nothing perishes ; eventually humanity 
 will profit. 
 
 "Others, as you soon will be doing, are now exploring 
 assigned sections of this illimitable field, accumulating 
 further knowledge, and they will report results to those 
 whose duty it is to retain and formulate the collected sum 
 of facts and principles. So it is that, unknown to the 
 great body of our brotherhood, a chosen number, under 
 
My Journey Begins y^ 
 
 our esoteric teachings, are gradually passing the divid- 
 ing line that separates life from death, matter from spirit, 
 for we have members who have mastered these problems. 
 We ask, however, no aid of evil forces or of necromancy 
 or black art, and your study of alchemy was of no avail, 
 although to save the vital truths alchemy is a part of our 
 work. We proceed in exact accordance with natural 
 laws, which will yet be known to all men. Sorrow, suf- 
 fering, pain of all descriptions, are enemies to the mem- 
 bers of our order, as they are to mankind broadly, and we 
 hope in the future so to control the now hidden secrets of 
 Nature as to be able to govern the antagonistic disturb- 
 ances in energy with which man now is everywhere 
 thwarted, to subdue the physical enemies of the race, to 
 affiliate religious and scientific thought, cultivating 
 brotherly love, the foundation and capstone, the cement 
 and union of this ancient fraternity." 
 
 "And am I really to take an important part in this 
 scheme ? Have I been set apart to explore a section of the 
 unknown for a bit of hidden knowledge, and to return 
 again ?" 
 
 "This I may say," he answered, evading a direct reply, 
 "you have been selected for a part that one in a thousand 
 has been required to undertake. You are to pass into a 
 field that will carry you beyond the present limits of 
 human observation. This much I have been instructed to 
 impart to you in order to nerve you for your duty. I 
 seem to be a young man ; really I am aged. You seem 
 to be infirm and old, but you are young. Many years ago, 
 cycles ago as men record time, I was promoted to do a 
 certain work because of my zealous nature ; like you, I 
 also had to do penance for an error. I disappeared, as 
 you are destined to do, from the sight of men. I regained 
 my youth ; yours has been lost forever, but you will re- 
 gain more than your former strength. We shall both 
 exist after this generation of men has passed away, and 
 shall mingle with generations yet to be born, for we shall 
 learn how to restore our youthful vigor, and will supply 
 
76 Etidorhpa 
 
 it time and again to earthy matter. Rest assured also that 
 the object of our labors is of the most laudable nature, 
 and we must be upheld under all difficulties by the fact 
 that multitudes of men who are yet to come will be bene- 
 fited thereby." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MY JOURNEY CONTINUES. — INSTINCT. 
 
 It is unnecessary for me to give the details of the first 
 part of my long journey. My companion was guided by 
 a perceptive faculty that, like the compass, enabled him 
 to keep in the proper course. He did not question those 
 whom we met, and made no endeavor to maintain a given 
 direction ; and yet he was travelling in a part of the coun- 
 try that was new to himself. I marvelled at the accuracy 
 of his intuitive perception, for he seemed never to be at 
 fault. When the road forked, he turned to the right or 
 the left in a perfectly careless manner, but the continuity 
 of his course was never interrupted. I began mentally 
 to question whether he could be guiding us aright, for- 
 getting that he was reading my thoughts, and he 
 answered : "There is nothing strange in this self-directive 
 faculty. Is not man capable of following where animals 
 lead? One of the objects of my special study has been 
 to ascertain the nature of the instinct-power of animals, 
 the sagacity of brutes. The carrier pigeon will fly to its 
 cote across hundreds of miles of strange country. The 
 young pig will often return to its pen by a route unknown 
 to it; the sluggish tortoise will find its home without a 
 guide, without seeing a familiar object; cats, horses and 
 other animals possess this power, which is not an unex- 
 plainable instinct, but a natural sense better developed 
 in some of the lower creatures than it is in man. The 
 power lies dormant in man, but exists, nevertheless. If 
 we develop one faculty we lose acuteness in some other 
 power. Men have lost in mental development in this par- 
 ticular direction while seeking to gain in others. If there 
 were no record of the fact that light brings objects to the 
 
yS Etidorhpa 
 
 recognition of the mind through the agency of the eye, 
 the sense of sight in an animal would be considered by 
 men devoid of it as adaptability to extraordinary circum- 
 stances, or instinct. So it is that animals often see clearly 
 where to the sense of man there is only darkness ; such 
 sight is not irresponsive action without consciousness of a 
 purpose. Man is not very magnanimous. Instead of giv- 
 ing credit to the lower animals for superior perception in 
 many directions, he denies to them the conscious 
 possession of powers imperfectly developed in mankind. 
 We egotistically aim to raise ourselves, and do so in our 
 own estimation by clothing the actions of the lower 
 animals in a garment of irresponsibility. Because we can- 
 not understand the inwardness of their power, we assert 
 that they act by the influence of instinct. The term in- 
 stinct, as I would define it, is an expression applied by 
 men to a series of senses which man possesses, but has not 
 developed. The word is used by man to characterize the 
 mental superiority of other animals in certain directions 
 where his own senses are defective. Instead of crediting 
 animals with these, to them, invaluable faculties, man 
 conceitedly says they are involuntary actions. Ignorant 
 of their mental status, man is too arrogant to admit that 
 lower animals are superior to him in any way. But we 
 are not consistent. Is it not true that in the direction in 
 which you question my power, some men by cultivation 
 often become expert beyond their fellows ? and such men 
 have also given very little systematic study to subjects 
 connected with these undeniable mental qualities. The 
 hunter will hold his course in utter darkness, passing in- 
 equalities in the ground, and avoiding obstructions he 
 cannot see. The fact of his superiority in this way over 
 others is not questioned, although he cannot explain his 
 methods nor understand how he operates. His quickened 
 sense is often as much entitled to be called instinct as is 
 the divining power of the carrier pigeon. If scholars 
 would cease to devote their entire energies to the develop- 
 
My Journey Continues 79 
 
 ment of the material, artistic, or scientific part of modern 
 civilization, and turn their attention to other forms of 
 mental culture, many beauties and powers of Nature now 
 unknown would be revealed. However, this cannot be, 
 for under existing conditions the strife for food and 
 warmth is the most important struggle that engages man- 
 kind and controls our actions. In a time that is surely to 
 come, however, when the knowledge of all men is united 
 into a comprehensive whole, the book of life, illuminated 
 thereby, will contain many beautiful pages that may be 
 easily read, but which are now not suspected to exist. 
 The power of the magnet is not uniform — engineers know 
 that the needle of the compass inexplicably deviates from 
 time to time as a line is run over the earth's surface, but 
 they also know that aberrations of the needle finally cor- 
 rect themselves. The temporary variations of a few de- 
 grees that occur in the running of a compass line are 
 usually overcome after a time, and without a change of 
 course the disturbed needle swerves back, and again 
 points to the calculated direction, as is shown by the 
 vernier. Should I err in my course, it would be by a 
 trifle only, and we could not go far astray before I would 
 unconsciously discover the true path. I carry my magnet 
 in my mind." 
 
 Many such dissertations or explanations concerning re- 
 lated questions were subsequently made in what I then 
 considered a very impressive, though always unsatisfac- 
 tory, manner. I recall those episodes now, after other 
 more remarkable experiences which are yet to be related, 
 and record them briefly with little wonderment, because 
 I have gone through adventures which demonstrate that 
 there is nothing improbable in the statements, and I shall 
 therefore not consume time with further details of this 
 part of my journey. 
 
 We leisurely traversed State after State, crossed rivers, 
 mountains and seemingly interminable forests. The ul- 
 timate object of our travels, a location in Kentucky, I 
 
8o Etidorhpa 
 
 afterward learned, led my companion to guide me by a 
 roundabout course to Wheeling, Virginia, by the usual 
 mountain roads of that day, instead of going, as he might 
 perhaps have much more easily done, via Buffalo and the 
 Lake Shore to Northern Ohio, and then southerly across 
 the country. He said in explanation, that the time lost 
 at the beginning of our journey by this route was more 
 than recompensed by the ease of the subsequent Ohio 
 River trip. Upon reaching Wheeling, he disposed of the 
 team, and we embarked on a keel boat, and journeyed 
 down the Ohio to Cincinnati. The river was falling when 
 we started, and became very low before Cincinnati was 
 reached, too low for steamers, and our trip in that flat- 
 bottomed boat, on the sluggish current of the tortuous 
 stream, proved tedious and slow. Arriving at Cincinnati, 
 my guide decided to wait for a rise in the river, design- 
 ing then to complete our journey on a steamboat. I spent 
 several days in Cincinnati quite pleasantly, expecting to 
 continue our course on the steamer "Tecumseh," then in 
 port, and ready for departure. At the last moment my 
 guide decided otherwise, and instead of embarking on 
 that boat, we took passage on the steamer "George Wash- 
 ington," leaving Shipping-Port, below the falls of the 
 Ohio, Wednesday, December 13, 1826. 
 
 During that entire journey, from the commencement 
 to our final destination, my guide paid all the bills, and 
 did not want either for money or attention from the 
 people with whom we came in contact. He seemed every- 
 where a stranger, and yet was possessed of a talisman that 
 opened every door to which he applied, and which gave 
 us unlimited accommodations wherever he asked them. 
 When the boat landed at Smithland, Kentucky, a village 
 on the bank of the Ohio, just above Paducah, we dis- 
 embarked, and my guide then for the first time seemed 
 mentally disturbed. 
 
 "Our journey together is nearly over," he said ; "in 
 a few days my responsibility for you will cease. Nerve 
 yourself for the future, and bear its trials and its 
 
My Journey Continues 8i 
 
 pleasures manfully. I may never see you again, but as 
 you are even now conspicuous in our history, and will 
 be closely connected with the development of the plan in 
 which I am also interested, although I am destined to 
 take a different part, I shall probably hear of you again." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A CAVERN DISCOVERED. BISSELL's HILL. 
 
 We stopped that night at a tavern in Smithland. Leav- 
 ing this place after dinner the next day, on foot, we struck 
 through the country, into the bottom lands of the Cum- 
 berland River, travelling leisurely, lingering for hours 
 in the course of a circuitous tramp of only a few miles. 
 Although it was the month of December, the climate was 
 mild and balmy. In my former home, a similar time of 
 year would have been marked with snow, sleet, and ice, 
 and I could not but draw a contrast between the two 
 localities. How different also the scenery from that of 
 my native State. Great timber trees, oak, poplar, 
 hickory, were in majestic possession of large tracts of 
 territory, in the solitude of which man, so far as evi- 
 dences of his presence were concerned, had never before 
 trodden. From time to time we passed little clearings 
 that probably were to be enlarged to thrifty plantations 
 in the future, and finally we crossed the Cumberland 
 River. That night we rested with Mr. Joseph Watts, a 
 wealthy and cultured landowner, who resided on the 
 river's bank. After leaving his home the next morning, 
 we journeyed slowly, very slowly, my guide seemingly 
 passing with reluctance into the country. He had become 
 a very pleasant companion, and his conversation was very 
 entertaining. We struck the sharp point of a ridge the 
 morning we left Mr. Watts's hospitable house. It was 
 four or five miles distant, but on the opposite side of the 
 Cumberland, from Smithland. Here a steep bluff broke 
 through the bottom land to the river's edge, the base of 
 the bisected point being washed by the Cumberland 
 River, which had probably cut its way through the stony 
 
SECTION OP KENTUCKY, KBAR SMITHLANTJ, TN WHICH THB ENTRANCE TO 
 THE KENTUCKY CAVERN IS SAID TO BE LOCATED. 
 
 I. Paducah. 
 
 ». Smithland. 
 
 3. Old Smithland. 
 
 4. Patterson. 
 
 5. Frenchtown. 
 
 6. Hickory Creek, 
 
 7. Underwood. 
 
 8. Btrdsville. 
 
 9. Bayou Mills. 
 10 Oalc Rid^. 
 
 ti. Mozley's Laodiog. 
 
 la. Kildare. 
 
 13. Lola. 
 
 14. Piockoeyvifle. 
 
 15. Salem. 
 
 16. Hampton. 
 
 17. Faulkner. 
 
 18. MuUikin. 
 
 19. Back Creek. 
 JO. Carrsville. 
 
 31. Given 's Creek. 
 
 33. Golconda. 
 
 33. Elizabethtown. 
 
 34. Metropolis City. 
 25. Hamletsburgh. 
 
 36. Sheridan. 
 
 37. Deer Creek- 
 
 38. Hurricane. 
 
 39. Hurricane Creek. 
 
 30. Ford's Ferry. 
 
 31. Weston. 
 
 32. Caseyville. 
 
 33. Tradewater River. 
 
 34. Dycusburgh. 
 
 35. Livingstone Creek. 
 
 36. Francis. 
 
 37. Harrold. (VlewJ 
 
 38. Crider. 
 
 39. Levias. 
 
 40- Craynerille. 
 
 «i. Marios. 
 
84 Etidorhpa 
 
 mineral of this ridge in ages long passed. We climbed 
 to its top and sat upon the pinnacle, and from that point 
 of commanding observation I drank in the beauties of 
 the scene around me. The river at our feet wound grace- 
 fully before us, and disappeared in both directions, its 
 extremes dissolving in a bed of forest. A great black 
 bluff, far up the stream, rose like a mountain, upon the 
 left side of the river; bottom lands were about us, and 
 hills appeared across the river in the far distance — 
 toward the Tennessee River. With regret I finally drew 
 my eyes from the vision, and we resumed the journey. 
 We followed the left bank of the river to the base of the 
 black bluff — "Bissell's Hill," a squatter called it — and 
 then skirted the side of that hill, passing along pre- 
 cipitous stone bluffs and among stunted cedars. Above 
 us towered cliff over cliff, almost perpendicularly ; below 
 us rolled the river. 
 
 I was deeply impressed by the changing beauties of this 
 strange Kentucky scenery, but marvelled at the fact that 
 while I became light-hearted and enthusiastic, my guide 
 grew correspondingly despondent and gloomy. From 
 time to time he lapsed into thoughtful silence, and once 
 I caught his eye directed toward me in a manner that I 
 inferred to imply either pity or envy. We passed Bis- 
 sell's Bluff, and left the Cumberland River at its upper 
 extremity, where another small creek empties into the 
 river. Thence, after ascending the creek some distance, 
 we struck across the country, finding it undulating and 
 fertile, with here and there a small clearing. During this 
 journey we either camped out at night, or stopped with a 
 resident, when one was to be found in that sparsely set- 
 tled country. Sometimes there were exasperating inter- 
 vals between our meals; but we did not suffer, for we 
 carried with us supplies of food, such as cheese and 
 crackers, purchased in Smithland, for emergencies. We 
 thus proceeded a considerable distance into Livingston 
 County, Kentucky. 
 
 I observed remarkable sinks in the earth, sometimes 
 
A Cavern Discovered 85 
 
 cone-shaped, again precipitous. These cavities were ac- 
 casionally of considerable size and depth, and they were 
 more numerous in the uplands than in the bottoms. They 
 were somewhat like the familiar "sink-holes" of New 
 York State, but monstrous in comparison. The first that 
 attracted my attention was near the Cumberland River, 
 just before we reached Bissell's Hill. It was about forty 
 feet deep and thirty in diameter, with precipitous stone 
 sides, shrubbery growing therein in exceptional spots 
 where loose earth had collected on shelves of stone that 
 cropped out along its rugged sides. The bottom of the 
 depression was flat and fertile, covered with a luxuriant 
 mass of vegetation. On one side of the base of the 
 gigantic bowl a cavern struck down into the earth. I 
 stood upon the edge of this funnel-like sink, and mar- 
 velled at its peculiar appearance. A spirit of curiosity, 
 such as often influences men when an unusual natural 
 scene presents itself, possessed me. I clambered down, 
 swinging from brush to brush, and stepping from shelv- 
 ing-rock to shelving-rock, until I reached the bottom of 
 the hollow, and placing my hand above the black hole in 
 its centre, I perceived that a current of cold air was rush- 
 ing therefrom upward. I probed with a long stick, but 
 the direction of the opening was tortuous, and would not 
 admit of examination in that manner. I dropped a large 
 pebble-stone into the orifice ; the pebble rolled and clanked 
 down, down, and at last the sound died away in the dis- 
 tance. 
 
 'T wish that I could go into the cavity as that stone has 
 done, and find the secrets of this cave," I reflected, the 
 natural love of exploration possessing me as it probably 
 does most men. 
 
 My companion above, seated on the brink of the stone 
 wall, replied to my thoughts : "Your wish shall be 
 granted. You have requested that which has already 
 been laid out for you. You will explore where few men 
 have passed before, and will have the privilege of fol- 
 lowing your destiny into a realm of natural wonders. A 
 
86 Etidorhpa 
 
 fertile field of investigation awaits you, such as will sur- 
 pass your most vivid imaginings. Come and seat your- 
 self beside me. for it is my duty now to tell you something 
 about the land we are approaching, the cavern fields of 
 Kentuckv." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE PUNCH-BOWLS AND CAVERNS OF KENTUCKY. '"iNTO 
 
 THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY/' 
 
 "This part of Kentucky borders a field of caverns that 
 reaches from near the State of Tennessee to the Ohio 
 River, and from the mouth of the Cumberland, eastward 
 to and beyond the centre of the State. This great area is 
 of irregular outline, and as yet has been Httle explored. 
 Underneath the surface are layers of limestone and sand- 
 stone rock, the deposits ranging from ten to one hundred 
 and fifty feet in thickness, and often great masses of 
 conglomerate appear. This conglomerate sometimes 
 caps the ridges, and varies in thickness from a few feet 
 only to sixty, or even a hundred, feet. It is of a diver- 
 sified character, sometimes largely composed of pebbles 
 cemented together by iron ore into compact beds, while 
 again it passes abruptly into gritty sandstone or a fine- 
 grained compact rock destitute of pebbles. Sometimes 
 the conglomerate rests directly on the limestone, but in 
 the section about us, more often argillaceous shales or 
 veins of coal intervene, and occasionally inferior and 
 superior layers of conglomerate are separated by a bed 
 of coal. In addition, lead-bearing veins now and then 
 crop up, the crystals of galena being disseminated 
 through masses of fluor-spar, calc-spar, limestone and 
 clay, which fill fissures between tilted walls of limestone 
 and hard quartzose sandstone. Valleys, hills, and moun- 
 tains grow out of this remarkable crust. Rivers and 
 creeks flow through and under it in crevices, either 
 directly upon the bedstone or over deposits of clay which 
 underlie it. In some places, beds of coal or slate alternate 
 with layers of the lime rock ; in others, the interspace 
 is clay and sand. Sometimes the depth of the several 
 
88 Etidorhpa 
 
 limestone and conglomerate deposits is great, and they 
 are often honeycombed by innumerable transverse and 
 diagonal spaces. Water drips have here and there 
 washed out the more friable earth and stone, forming 
 grottoes which are as yet unknown to men, but which 
 will be discovered to be wonderful and fantastic beyond 
 anything of a like nature now familiar. In other places 
 cavities exist between shelves of rock that lie one above 
 the other — monstrous openings caused by the erosive 
 action of rivers now lost, but that have flowed during un- 
 numbered ages past ; great parallel valleys and gigantic 
 chambers, one over the other, remaining to tell the story 
 of these former torrents. Occasionally the weight of a 
 portion of the disintegrating rock above becomes too 
 great for its tensile strength and the material crumbles 
 and falls, producing caverns sometimes reaching so near 
 to the earth's surface as to cause sinks in its crust. 
 These sinks, when first formed, as a rule, present clear 
 rock fractures, and immediately after their formation 
 there is usually a waterway beneath. In the course of 
 time soil collects on their sides, they become cone-shaped 
 hollows from the down-slidings of earth, and then vege- 
 tation appears on the living soil ; trees grow within them, 
 and in many places the sloping sides of great earth bowls 
 of this nature are, after untold years, covered with tlie 
 virgin forest : magnificent timber trees growing on soil 
 that has been stratified over and upon decayed monarchs 
 of the forest whose remains, imbedded in the earth, 
 speak of the ages that have passed since the convulsions 
 that made the depressions which, notwithstanding the 
 accumulated debris, are still a hundred feet or more in 
 depth. If the drain or exit at the vortex of one of these 
 sinks becomes clogged, which often occurs, the entire 
 cavity fills with water, and a pond results. Again, a 
 slight orifice reaching far beneath the earth's surface 
 may permit the soil to be gradually washed into a sub- 
 terranean creek, and thus are formed great bowls, like 
 funnels sunk in the earth^Kentucky punch-bowls. ^ ^ i 
 
"Into the Unknown Country" 89 
 
 "Take the country about us, especially toward the 
 Mammoth Cave, and for miles beyond, the landscape in 
 certain localities is pitted with this description of sinks, 
 some recent, others very old. Many are small, but deep ; 
 others are large and shallow. Ponds often of great 
 depth, curiously enough overflowing and giving rise to 
 a creek, are to be found on a ridge, telling of under- 
 ground supply springs, not outlets, beneath. Chains of 
 such sinks, like a row of huge funnels, often appear ; the 
 soil between them is slowly washed through their exit 
 into the river, flowing in the depths below, and as the 
 earth that separates them is carried away by the subter- 
 ranean streams, the bowls coalesce, and a ravine, closed 
 at both ends, results. Along the bottom of such a ravine 
 a creek may flow, rushing from its natural tunnel at one 
 end of the line, and disappearing in a gulf at the other. 
 The stream begins in mystery, and ends in unfatliomed 
 darkness. Near Marion, Hurricane Creek thus disap- 
 pears, and, so far as men know, is lost to sight forever- 
 Near Cridersville, in this neighborhood, a valley such as. 
 I have described takes in the surface floods of a large 
 tract of country. The waters that run down its sides 
 during a storm form a torrent, and fence-rails, timbers, 
 and other objects are gulped into the chasm where the 
 creek plunges into the earth, and they never appear 
 again. This part of Kentucky is the most remarkable 
 portion of the known world, and although now neglected, 
 in a time to come is surely destined to an extended dis- 
 tinction. I have referred only to the surface, the skin 
 formation, of this honeycombed labyrinth, the entrance 
 to the future wonderland of the world. Portions of 
 such a superficial cavern maze have been traversed by 
 man in the ramifications known as the Mammoth Cave,, 
 but deeper than man has yet explored, the subcutaneous 
 structure of that series of caverns is yet to be investi- 
 gated. The Mammoth Cave as now traversed is sim- 
 ply a superficial series of grottoes and passages over- 
 lying the deeper cavern field that I have described. The 
 
90 Etidorhpa 
 
 explored chain of passages is of great interest to men, 
 it is true, but of minor importance compared to others 
 yet unknown, being, in fact, the result of mere surface 
 erosion. The river that bisects the cave, just be- 
 neath the surface of the earth, and known as Echo River, 
 is a miniature stream : there are others more magnifi- 
 cent that flow majestically far, far beneath it. As we 
 descend into the earth in that locality, caverns multi- 
 ply iU' number and increase in size, retaining the general 
 configuration of those I have described. The layers of 
 rock are thicker, the intervening spaces broader ; they 
 stretch in increasingly expanded chambers for miles, 
 while high above each series of caverns the solid ceilings 
 of stone arch and interarch. Sheltered under these sub- 
 terrene alcoves are streams, lakes, rivers and waterfalls. 
 Near the surface of the earth such waters often teem with 
 aquatic life, and some of the caves are inhabited by 
 species of birds, reptiles and mammals as yet unknown to 
 men, creatures possessed of senses and organs that are 
 different from any we find with surface animals, and 
 also apparently defective in particulars that would star- 
 tle persons acquainted only with creatures that live in 
 the sunshine. It is a world beneath a world, a world 
 within a world — " My guide abruptly stopped. 
 
 I sat entranced, marvelling at the young-old adept's 
 knowledge, admiring his accomplishments. I gazed into 
 the cavity that yawned beneath me, and imagined its 
 possible but to me invisible secrets, enraptured with the 
 thought of searching into them. Who would not feel 
 elated at the prospect of an exploration such as I fore- 
 saw might be pursued in my immediate future? I had 
 often been charmed with narrative descriptions of dis- 
 coveries, and book accounts of scientific investigations, 
 but I had never pictured myself as a participant in such 
 fascinating enterprises. 
 
 "Indeed, indeed," I cried exultingly ; "lead me to this 
 Wonderland, show me the entrance to this Subterranean 
 ^^'orld, and I promise willingly to do as you bid." 
 
"Into the Unknown Country" 91 
 
 "Bravo!" he replied, "your heart is right, your cour- 
 age sufficient ; I have not disclosed a thousandth part of 
 the wonders of which I have knowledge, and which 
 await your research, and probably I have not gained even 
 an insight into the mysteries that, if your courage per- 
 mits, you will be privileged to comprehend. Your des- 
 tiny lies beyond, far beyond that which I have pictured 
 or experienced ; and I, notwithstanding my opportuni- 
 ties, have no conception of its end, for at the critical 
 moment my heart faltered — I can therefore only de- 
 scribe the beginning." 
 
 Thus at the lower extremity of Bissell's Hill I was 
 made aware of the fact that within a short time I should 
 be separated from my sympathetic guide, and that it was 
 to be my duty to explore alone, or in other company, 
 some portion of these Kentucky cavern deeps, and I 
 longed for the beginning of my underground journey. 
 Heavens ! how different would have been my future life 
 could I then have realized my position ! Would that I 
 could have seen the end ! After a few days of uneventful 
 travel, we rested, one afternoon, in a hilly country that 
 before us appeared to be more rugged, even mountain- 
 ous. We had wandered leisurely, and were now at a 
 considerable distance from the Cumberland River, the 
 aim of my guide being, as I surmised, to evade a direct 
 approach to some object of interest which I must not 
 locate exactly, and yet which I shall try to describe ac- 
 curately enough for identification by a person familiar 
 with the topography of that section. We stood on the 
 side of a stony, sloping hill, back of which spread a 
 wooded, undulating valley. 
 
 "I remember to have passed along a creek in that val- 
 ley," I remarked, looking back over our pathway. "It 
 appeared to rise from this direction, but the source 
 ends abruptly in this chain of hills." 
 
 "The stream is beneath us," he answered. Advancing 
 a few paces, he brought to my attention, on the hillside, 
 an opening in the earth. This aperture was irregular in 
 
92 Etidorhpa 
 
 form, about the diameter of a well, and descended per- 
 pendicularly into the stony crust. I leaned far over the 
 orifice, and heard the gurgle of rushing water beneath. 
 The guide dropped a heavy stone into the gloomy shaft, 
 and after some seconds a dull splash announced its 
 plunge into underground water. Then he leaned over 
 the stony edge, and — could I be mistaken? — seemed to 
 signal to some one beneath ; but it must be imagination 
 on my part, I argued to myself, even against my very 
 sense of sight. Rising, and taking me by the hand, my 
 guardian spoke : 
 
 "Brother, we approach the spot where you and I must 
 separate. I serve my masters and am destined to go 
 where I shall next be commanded ; you will descend into 
 the earth, as you have recently desired to do. Here we 
 part, most likely forever. This rocky fissure will admit 
 the last ray of sunlight on your path." 
 
 My heart failed. How often are we courageous in 
 daylight and timid by night? Men unflinchingly face in 
 sunshine dangers at which they shudder in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 "How am I to descend into that abyss?" I gasped. 
 "The sides are perpendicular, the depth is unknown!" 
 Then I cried in alarm, the sense of distrust deepening: 
 "Do you mean to drown me; is it for this you have led 
 me away from my native State, from friends, home and 
 kindred? You have enticed me into this wilderness. 
 I have been decoyed, and, like a foolish child, have 
 willingly accompanied my destroyer. You feared to 
 murder me in my distant home ; the earth could not have 
 hidden me ; Niagara even might have given up my body 
 to dismay the murderers ! In this underground river in 
 the wilds of Kentucky all trace of my existence will dis- 
 appear forever." 
 
 I was growing furious. My frenzied eyes searched 
 the ground for some missile of defence. By strange 
 chance some one had left, on that solitary spot, a rude 
 weapon, providentially dropped for my use, I thought. 
 
" Into the Unknown Country " 93 
 
 It was a small iron bolt or bar. somewhat rusted. I 
 threw myself upon the earth, and, as I did so, picked 
 this up quickly, and secreted it within my bosom. Then 
 I arose and resumed my stormy denunciation : 
 
 "You have played your part well, you have led your 
 unresisting victim to the sacrifice, but if I am compelled 
 to plunge into this black grave, you shall go with me!" 
 I shrieked in desperation, and suddenly threw my arms 
 around the gentle adept, intending to hurl him into the 
 chasm. At this point I felt my hands seized from be- 
 hind in a cold, clammy, irresistible embrace, my fingers 
 were loosed by a strong grasp, and I turned, to find my- 
 self confronted by a singular-looking being, who quietly 
 said: 
 
 "You are not to be destroyed ; we wish only to do 
 your bidding." 
 
 '1 he speaker stood in a stooping position, with his face 
 toward the earth, as if to shelter it from the sunshine. 
 He was less than five feet in height. His arms and legs 
 were bare, and his skin, the color of light blue putty, glis- 
 tened in the sunlight like the slimy hide of a water dog. 
 He raised his head, and I shuddered in affright as I be- 
 held that his face was not that of a human. His fore- 
 head extended in an unbroken plane from crown to cheek 
 bone, and the chubby tip of an abortive nose without 
 nostrils formed a short projection near the centre of the 
 level ridge which represented a countenance. There was 
 no semblance of an eye, for there were no sockets. Yet 
 his voice was singularly perfect. His face, if face it 
 could be called, was wet, and water dripped from all 
 parts of his slippery person. Yet, repulsive as he looked, 
 I shuddered more at the remembrance of the touch of 
 that cold, clammy hand than at the sight of his figure, 
 for a dead man could not have chilled me as he had done, 
 with his sappy skin, from which the moisture seemed 
 to ooze as from the hide of a water lizard. 
 
 Turning to my guide, this freak of Nature said, 
 softly : 
 
94 Etidorhpa 
 
 "I have come in obedience to the signal." 
 I realized at once that alone with these two I was 
 powerless, and that to resist would be suicidal. Instantly 
 my effervescing passion subsided, and I expressed no 
 further surprise at this sudden and remarkable appari- 
 tion, but mentally acquiesced. I was alone and helpless ; 
 rage gave place to inertia in the despondency that fol- 
 lowed the realization of my hopeless condition. The 
 grotesque newcomer who, though sightless, possessed 
 a strange instinct, led us to the base of the hill a few 
 hundred feet away, and there, gushing into the light 
 from the rocky bluff, I saw a magnificent stream issuing 
 many feet in width. This was the headwaters of the 
 mysterious brook that I had previously noticed. It 
 flowed from an archway in the solid stone, springing 
 directly out of the rock-bound cliff ; beautiful and pictur- 
 esque in its surroundings. The limpid water, clear and 
 sparkling, issued from the unknown source that was 
 typical of darkness, but the brook of crystal leaped into 
 a world of sunshine, light and freedom. 
 
 "Brother," said my companion, "this spring emerging 
 from this prison of earth images to us what humanity 
 will be when the prisoning walls of ignorance that now 
 enthrall him are removed. Man has heretofore relied 
 chiefly for his advancement, both mental and physical, on 
 knowledge gained from so-called scientific explorations 
 and researches with matter, from material studies rather 
 than spiritual, all his investigations having been confined 
 to the crude, coarse substance of the surface of the globe. 
 Spiritualistic investigations, unfortunately, are consid- 
 ered by scientific men too often as reaching backward 
 only. The religions of the world clasp hands with and 
 lean upon the dead past, it is true, but point to a living 
 future. Man must yet search, by the agency of senses 
 and spirit, the unfathomed mysteries that lie beneath his 
 feet and over his head, and he who refuses to bow to the 
 Creator and honor his handiwork discredits himself. 
 When this work is accomplished, as it yet will be, the 
 
" Into the Unknown Country " 95 
 
 future man, able then to comprehend the problem of life 
 in its broader significance, drawing from all directions 
 the facts necessary to his mental advancement, will have 
 reached a state in which he can enjoy bodily comfort and 
 supreme spiritual perfection, while he is yet an earth- 
 bound mortal. In hastening this consummation, it is 
 necessary that an occasional human life should be lost 
 to the world, but such sacrifices are noble — yes, sublime, 
 because contributing to the future exaltation of our race. 
 The secret workers in the sacred order of which you are 
 still a member have ever taken an important part in fur- 
 thering such a system of evolution. This feature of our 
 work is unknown to brethren of the ordinary fraternity, 
 and the individual research of each secret messenger is 
 unguessed by the craft at large. Hence it is that the open 
 workers of our order, those initiated by degrees only, 
 who in lodge rooms carry on their beneficent labors 
 among men, have had no hand other than as agents in 
 your removal, and no knowledge of your present or 
 future movements. Their function is to keep together 
 our organization on earth, and from them only an occa- 
 sional member is selected, as you have been, to perform 
 special duties in certain adventurous studies. Are you 
 willing to go on this journey of exploration? and are 
 you brave enough to meet the trials you have invited ?" 
 
 Again my enthusiasm arose, and I felt the thrill ex- 
 perienced by an investigator who stands on the brink of 
 an important discovery, and needs but courage to ad- 
 vance, and I answered, "Yes." 
 
 "Then, farewell ; this archway is the entrance that will 
 admit you into your arcanum of usefulness. This mystic 
 Brother, though a stranger to you, has long been ap- 
 prised of our coming, and it was he who sped me on my 
 journey to seek you, and who has since been waiting for 
 us, and is to be your guide during the first stages of your 
 subterrene progress. He is a Friend, and, if you trust 
 him, will protect you from harm. You will find the 
 necessaries of life supplied, for I have traversed part of 
 
96 Etidorhpa 
 
 your coming road ; that part I therefore know, but, as I 
 have said, you are to go deeper into the unexplored — 
 yes, into and beyond the Beyond, until finally you will 
 come to the gateway that leads into the 'Unknown Coun- 
 try.' " 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FAREWELL TO GOD's SUNSHINE — THE ECHO OF THE CRY. 
 
 Thus speaking, my quiet leader, who had so long been 
 as a shepherd to my wandering feet on the upper earth, 
 grasped my hands tightly, and placed them in those of 
 my new companion, whose clammy fingers closed over 
 them as with a grip of iron. The mysterious being, now 
 my custodian, turned toward the creek, drawing me 
 after him, and together we silently and solemnly waded 
 beneath the stone archway. As I passed under the 
 shadow of that dismal, yawning cliff, I turned my head 
 to take one last glimpse of the world I had known — 
 that "warm precinct of the cheerful day" — and tears 
 sprang to my eyes. I thought of life, family, friends — 
 of all for w^hich men live — and a melancholy vision arose, 
 that of my lost, lost home. My companion of the jour- 
 ney that had just ended stood in the sunlight on the 
 banks of the rippling stream, gazing at us intently, and 
 waved an affectionate farewell. My uncouth new asso- 
 ciate (guide or master, whichever he might be) of the 
 journey to come clasped me firmly by the arms, and 
 waded slowly onward, thrusting me steadily against the 
 cold current, and with irresistible force pressed me into 
 the thickening darkness. The daylight disappeared, the 
 pathway contracted, the water deepened and became 
 more chilly. We were constrained to bow our heads in 
 order to avoid the overhanging vault of stone ; the water 
 reached to my chin, and now the down-jutting roof 
 touched the crown of my head ; then I shuddered con- 
 vulsively as the last ray of daylight disappeared. 
 
 Had it not been for my companion, I know that I 
 should have sunk in despair, and drowned ; but with a 
 
98 Etidorhpa 
 
 firm hand he held my head above the water, and steadily 
 pushed me onward. I had reached the extreme of de- 
 spondency : I neither feared nor cared for hfe or death, 
 and I realized that, powerless to control my own acts, 
 my fate, the future, my existence depended on the strange 
 being beside me. I was mysteriously sustained, how- 
 ever, by a sense of bodily security, such as comes over 
 us when in the hands of an experienced guide we jour- 
 ney through a wilderness, for I felt that my pilot of the 
 underworld did not purpose to destroy me. We halted a 
 moment, and then, as a faint light overspread us, my eye- 
 less guide directed me to look upward. 
 
 "We now stand beneath the crevice which you were 
 told by your former guide W'Ould admit the last ray of 
 sunlight on your path. I also say to you, this struggling 
 ray of sunlight is to be your last for years." 
 
 I gazed above me, feeling all the wretchedness of a 
 dying man who, with faculties intact, might stand on the 
 dark edge of the hillside of eternity, glancing back into 
 the bright world ; and that small opening far, far over- 
 head, seemed as the gate to Paradise Lost. Many a per- 
 son, assured of ascending at will, has stood at the bottom 
 of a deep well or shaft to a mine, and even then felt the 
 indescribable sensation of dread, often terror, that is 
 produced by such a situation. Awe, mystery, uncer- 
 tainty of life and future superadded, may express my 
 sensation. I trembled, shrinking in horror from my cap- 
 tor and struggled violently. 
 
 "Hold, hold," I begged, as one involuntarily prays a 
 surgeon to delay the incision of the amputating knife, 
 "just one moment." My companion, unheeding, moved 
 on, the light vanished instantly, and we were surrounded 
 by total darkness. God's sunshine was blotted out. 
 
 Then I again became unconcerned ; I was not now re- 
 sponsible for my own existence, and the feeling that I ex- 
 perienced when a prisoner in the closed carriage re- 
 turned. I grew careless concerning my fate, and with 
 stolid indiflference struggled onward as we progressed 
 
' THIS STRr(;i;i 1N( , l; \S i i| srMi(;n r is '1( > 1;K yd IK I.AS'I' 1-()K YEARS. 
 
Farewell to God's Sunshine 99 
 
 slowly against the current of water. I began even to 
 interest myself in speculations regarding our surround- 
 ings, and the object or outcome of our journey. In 
 places the water was shallow, scarce reaching to our 
 ankles ; again it was so deep that we could wade only 
 with exertion, and at times the passage up which we 
 toiled was so narrow that it would scarcely admit us. 
 After a long, laborious stemming of the unseen brook, 
 my companion directed me to close my mouth, hold my 
 nostrils with my fingers, and stoop ; almost diving with 
 me beneath the water, he drew me through the sub- 
 merged crevice, and we ascended into an open chamber, 
 and left the creek behind us. I fancied that we were in 
 a large room, and as I shouted aloud to test my hypothe- 
 sis, echo after echo answered, until at last the cry rever- 
 berated and died away in distant murmurs. We were 
 evidently in a great pocket or cavern, through which 
 my guide now walked rapidly; indeed, he passed along 
 with unerring footsteps, as certain of his course as I 
 might be on familiar ground in full daylight. I per- 
 ceived that he systematically evaded inequalities that I 
 could not anticipate nor see. He would tell me to step 
 up or down, as the surroundings required, and we 
 ascended or descended accordingly. Our path turned 
 to the right or the left from time to time, but my eyeless 
 guide passed through what were evidently the most tor- 
 tuous windings without a mishap. I wondered much at 
 this gift of knowledge, and at last overcame my reserve 
 sufficiently to ask how we could thus unerringly proceed 
 in utter darkness. The reply was : 
 
 "The path is plainly visible to me ; I see as clearly in 
 pitch darkness as you can in sunshine." 
 
 "Explain yourself further," I requested. 
 
 He replied, "Not yet; and continued, "you are weary, 
 we will rest." 
 
 He conducted me to a seat on a ledge, and left me for a 
 time. Returning soon, he placed in my hands food which 
 I ate with novel relish. The pabulum seemed to be o£ 
 
loo Etidorhpa 
 
 vegetable origin, though varieties of it had a peculiar 
 flesh-like flavor. .Several separate and distinct sub- 
 stances were contained in the queer viands, some por- 
 tions savoring of wholesome flesh, while others possessed 
 the delicate flavors of various fruits, such as the straw- 
 berry and the pineapple. The strange edibles were of a 
 pulpy texture, homogeneous in consistence, parts being 
 juicy and acid, like grateful fruits. Some portions were 
 in slices or films that I could hold in my hand like sec- 
 tions of a velvet melon, and yet were in many respects 
 unlike any other food that I had ever tasted. There was 
 neither rind nor seed ; it seemed to the touch like the gills 
 of a fish, and in answer to my question the guide re- 
 marked : 
 
 "Yes ; it is the gill, but not the gill of a fish. You will 
 be instructed in due time." I will add that after this, 
 whenever necessary, we were supplied with food, but 
 both thirst and hunger altogether disappeared before our 
 underground journey was finished. 
 
 After a while we again began our tramp, which we 
 continued in what was to me absolute darkness. My 
 strength seemed to endure the fatigue to a wonderful de- 
 gree, notwithstanding that we must have been walking 
 hour after hour, and I expressed a curiosity about the 
 fact. My guide replied that the atmosphere of the cav- 
 ern possessed an intrinsic vitalizing power that neutral- 
 ized fatigue, "or," he vSaid, "there is here art inherent 
 constitutional energy derived from an active gaseous 
 substance that belongs to cavern air at this depth, and 
 sustains the life force by contributing directly to its con- 
 servation, taking the place of food and drink." 
 
 "I do not understand," I said. 
 
 "No; and you do not comprehend how ordinary air 
 supports mind and vitalizes muscle, and at the same time 
 wears out both muscle and all other tissues. These are 
 facts which are not satisfactorily explained by scientific 
 statements concerning oxygenation of the blood. As 
 we descend into the earth we find an increase in the life 
 
Farewell to God's Sunshine loi 
 
 force of the cavern air, that is fact and is no less fact 
 because as yet scientific men are in ignorance thereof." 
 
 This reference to surface earth recalled my former life, 
 and led me to contrast my present situation with that 
 which I had forfeited. I was seized with an uncontrol- 
 lable longing for home, and then a painful craving for 
 the past took possession of my heart, but with a strong 
 eftort I shook off the sensations. We travelled on and on 
 in silence and in darkness, and again came to mind the 
 remark of my former guide, who had said : "You are des- 
 tined to go deeper into the unknown; yes, into and be- 
 yond the Beyond." 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A ZONE OF LIGHT DEEP WITHIN THE EARTH. 
 
 "Oh ! for one glimpse of light, a ray of sunshine !" 
 
 In reply to this my mental ejaculation, my guide said : 
 "Cannot you perceive that the darkness is becoming less* 
 intense?" 
 
 "No," I answered, "I cannot ; night is absolute." 
 
 "Are you sure?" he asked. "Cover your eyes with 
 your hands, then uncover and open them." I did so and 
 fancied that by contrast a faint gray hue was apparent. 
 
 "This must be imagination." 
 
 "No ; we now approach a zone of earth light ; let us 
 hasten on." 
 
 "A zone of light deep in the earth ! Incomprehensible ! 
 Incredible !" I muttered, and yet as we went onward and 
 time passed the darkness was surely less intense. The 
 barely perceptible hue became gray and sombre, and then 
 of a pearly translucence, and although I could not dis- 
 tinguish the outline of objects, yet I unquestionably per- 
 ceived light. 
 
 "I am amazed! What can be the cause of this 
 phenomenon ? What is the nature of this mysterious halo 
 that surrounds us?" I held my open hand before my 
 eyes, and perceived the darkness of my spread fingers. 
 
 "It is light, it is light," I shouted, "it is really light!" 
 and from near and from far the echoes of that subter- 
 ranean cavern answered back joyfully, "It is light, it is 
 light !" 
 
 I wept in joy, and threw my arms about my guide ; for- 
 getting in the ecstasy his clammy cuticle, I danced in 
 hysterical glee and alternately laughed and cried. How 
 vividly I realized then that the imprisoned miner would 
 give a world of gold, his former god, for a ray of light. 
 
A Zone of Light 103 
 
 "Compose yourself; this emotional exhibition is an evi- 
 dence of weakness ; an investigator should neither become 
 depressed over a reverse nor unduly enthusiastic over a 
 fortunate discovery." 
 
 "But v^e approach the earth's surface? Soon I shall be 
 back in the sunshine again." 
 
 "Upon the contrary, we have been continually descend- 
 ing into the earth, and we are now ten miles or more 
 beneath the level of the ocean." 
 
 I shrank back, hesitated, and in despondency gazed at 
 his hazy outline, then, as if palsied, sank upon the stony 
 floor; but as I saw the light before me, I leaped up and 
 shouted : 
 
 "What you say is not true; we approach daylight, I 
 can see your form." 
 
 "Listen to me," he said. "Cannot you understand that 
 I have led you continually down a steep descent, and that 
 for hours there has been no step upward ? With but little 
 exertion you have walked this distance without becoming 
 wearied, and you could not, without great fatigue, have 
 ascended for so long a period. You are entering a zone of 
 inner earth light ; we are in the surface, the upper edge 
 of it. Let us hasten on, for when this cavern darkness 
 is at an end — and I will say we have nearly passed that 
 limit — your courage will return, and then we will rest." 
 
 "You surely do not speak the truth; science and 
 philosophy, and I am somewhat versed in both, have 
 never told me of such a light." 
 
 "Can philosophers more than speculate about that 
 which they have not experienced if they have no data 
 from which to calculate? Name the student in science 
 who has reached this depth in earth, or has seen a man 
 to tell him of these facts." 
 "I cannot." 
 
 "Then why should you have expected any of them to 
 describe our surroundings? Misguided men will torture 
 science by refuting facts with theories ; but a fact is no 
 less a fact when misinformed science opposes." 
 
I04 Etidorhpa 
 
 I recognized the force of his arguments, and cordially 
 grasped his hand in indication of submission. We con- 
 tinued our journey, and rapidly travelled downward and 
 onward. The light gradually increased in intensity, until 
 at length the cavern near about us seemed to be as bright 
 as diffused daylight could have made it. There was ap- 
 parently no central point of radiation ; the light was such 
 as to pervade and exist in the surrounding space, some- 
 what as the vapor of phosphorus spreads a self-luminous 
 haze throughout the bubble into which it is blown. The 
 visual agent surrounding us had a permanent, self-exist- 
 ing luminosity, and was a pervading, bright, unreachable 
 essence that, without an obvious origin, diffused itself 
 equally in all directions. It reminded me of the form of 
 light that in previous years I had seen described as epi- 
 polic dispersion, and as I refer to the matter I am of the 
 opinion that man will yet find that the same cause pro- 
 duces both phenomena. I was informed now by the sense 
 of sight, that we were in a cavern room of considerable 
 size. The apartment presented somewhat the appearance 
 of the usual underground caverns that I had seen pic- 
 tured in books, and yet was different. Stalactites, stalag- 
 mites, saline incrustations, occurring occasionally, re- 
 minded me of travellers' stories, but these objects were 
 not so abundant as might be supposed. Such accretions or 
 deposits of saline substances as I noticed were also disap- 
 pointing, in that, instead of possessing a dazzling bril- 
 liancy, like frosted snow crystals, they were of a uniform 
 gray or brown hue. Indeed, my former imaginative men- 
 tal creations regarding underground caverns were dis- 
 pelled in this sombre stone temple, for even the floor and 
 the fragments of stone that, in considerable quantities, 
 strewed the floor, were of the usual rock formations of 
 upper earth. The glittering crystals of snowy white or 
 rainbow tints (fairy caverns) pictured by travellers, and 
 described as inexpressibly grand and beautiful in other 
 cavern labyrinths, were wanting here, and I saw only oc- 
 casional small clusters of quartz crystals that were other 
 
A Zone of Light 105 
 
 than of a dull gray color. Then my guide struck oft into 
 a discussion concerning the problems confronting man- 
 kind, using as a text this subject of the intra-earth light, 
 after which we resumed our journey, passing next into a 
 dry, well-ventilated apartment. Stalactite formations 
 still existed, indicative of former periods of water drip- 
 pings, but as we journeyed onward I saw no evidence of 
 present percolations, the developing and erosive agencies 
 that had worked in ages past must long ago have been 
 suspended. The floor was of solid stone, entirely free 
 from loose earth and fallen rocky fragments. It was 
 smooth upon the surface, but generally disposed in gentle 
 undulations. The peculiar, soft, radiant light, to which 
 my guide referred as "vitalized darkness" or "revivified 
 sunshine," pervaded all the space about me, but I could 
 not by its agency distinguish the sides of the vast cavern. 
 The brightness was of a species that while it brought into 
 distinctness objects that were near at hand, lost its un- 
 folding power or vigor a short distance beyond. I would 
 compare the effect to that of a bright light shining 
 through a dense fog, were it not that the medium about 
 us was transparent — not milky. The light shrunk into 
 nothingness. It passed from existence behind and about 
 me as if it were annihilated, without wasting away in the 
 opalescent appearance once familiar as that of a spread- 
 ing fog. Moreover, it seemed to bring into detail such 
 objects as were within the compass of a certain area close 
 about me, but to lose in intensity beyond. The buttons 
 on my coat appeared as distinct as they ever did when I 
 stood in the sunlight, and fully one-half larger than I 
 formerly knew them to be. The corrugations on the 
 palms of my hands stood out in bold serpentine relief that 
 I observed clearly when I held my hands near my eye, 
 my fingers appeared clumsy, and all parts of my person 
 were magnified in proportion. The region at the limits of 
 my range of perception reminded me of nothingness, but 
 not of darkness. A circle of obliteration defined the 
 border of the luminous belt which advanced as we pro- 
 
1 06 Etidorhpa 
 
 ceeded, and closed in behind us. This line, or rather 
 zone of demarcation, that separated the seen from the un- 
 seen appeared to be about two hundred feet away, but it 
 might have been more or less, as I had no method of 
 measuring distances. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE FUNGUS FOREST. ENCHANTMENT. 
 
 Along the chamber through which we now passed I 
 saw by the mellow light great pillars, capped with um- 
 brella-like covers, some of them reminding me of the 
 common toadstool of upper earth, on a magnificent scale. 
 Instead, however, of the gray or sombre shades to which 
 I had been accustomed, these objects were of various hues 
 and combined the brilliancy of the primary prismatic 
 colors with the purity of clean snow. Now they would 
 stand solitary, like gigantic sentinels ; again they would 
 be arranged in rows, the alignment as true as if estab- 
 lished by the hair of a transit, forming columnar ave- 
 nues, and in other situations they were wedged together 
 so as to produce masses, acres in extent, in which the 
 stems became hexagonal by compression. The columnar 
 stems, larger than my body, were often spiral ; again they 
 were marked with diamond-shaped figures, or other 
 regular geometrical forms in relief, beautifully exact, 
 drawn as by a master's hand in rich and delicately 
 blended colors, on pillars of pure alabaster. Not a few 
 of the stems showed deep crimson, blue, or green, to- 
 gether with other rich colors combined ; over which, as 
 delicate as the rarest of lace, would be thrown, in white, 
 an enamel-like intricate tracery, far surpassing in beauty 
 of execution the most exquisite needle-work I had ever 
 seen. There could be no doubt that I was in a forest of 
 colossal fungi, the species of which are more numerous 
 than those of upper earth cryptogamtic vegetation. The 
 expanded heads of these great thallogens were as varied 
 as the stems I have described, and more so. Far above 
 our path they spread like beautiful umbrellas, decorated 
 as if by masters, from whom the great painters of upper 
 
io8 Etidorhpa 
 
 earth might humbly learn the art of mixing colors. Their 
 under surfaces were of many dififerent designs, and were 
 of as many shapes as it is conceivable could be made of 
 combinations of the circle and hyperbola. Stately and 
 picturesque, silent and immovable as the sphinx, they 
 studded the great cavern singly or in groups, reminding 
 me of a grown child's wild imagination of fairyland. I 
 stopped beside a group that was of unusual conspicuity 
 and gazed in admiration on the huge and yet graceful, 
 beautiful spectacle. I placed my hand on the stem of one 
 plant, and found it soft and impressible ; but instead of 
 being moist, cold, and clammy as the repulsive toadstool 
 of upper earth, I discovered, to my surprise, that it was 
 pleasantly warm, and soft as velvet. 
 
 "Smell your hand," said my guide. 
 
 I did so, and breathed in an aroma like that of fresh 
 strawberries. 
 
 "Try the next one," he said. 
 
 This being of a dififerent species, when rubbed by my 
 hand exhaled the odor of the pineapple. 
 
 "Extraordinary," I mused. 
 
 "Not at all. Should productions of surface earth have 
 a monopoly of nature's methods, all the flavors, all the 
 perfumes? You may with equal consistency express 
 astonishment at the odors of the fruits of upper earth if 
 you do so at the fragrance of these vegetables, for they 
 are also created of odorless elements." 
 
 "But toadstools are foul structures of low organ- 
 ization. They are neither animals nor true vegetables, 
 but occupy a station below that of plants proper, flower- 
 ing plants I mean." 
 
 "You are acquainted with this order of vegetation un- 
 der the most unfavorable conditions ; out of their native 
 elements these plants degenerate and become then abnor- 
 mal, often evolving into the poisonous earth fungi known 
 to your woods and fields. Here they grow to perfection. 
 This is their chosen habitat. They absorb from a pure 
 atmosphere the combined foods of plants and animals. 
 
I AVAS 1\ A FORKSr i)F COLOSSAL FUN(;L 
 
The Fungus Forest 109 
 
 and during their existence meet no scorching sunrise. 
 They flourish in a region of perfect tranquilhty, and with- 
 out a tremor, without experiencing the change of a 
 fraction of a degree in temperature, exist for ages. 
 Many of these specimens are probably thousands of 
 years old, and are still growing; why should they ever 
 die ? They have never been disturbed by a breath of mov- 
 ing air, and, balanced exactly on their succulent, pedestal- 
 like stems, surrounded by an atmosphere of dead nitro- 
 gen, vapor, and other gases, with their roots imbedded 
 in carbonates and minerals, they have food at command, 
 nutrition inexhaustible." 
 
 "Still I do not see why they grow to such mammoth 
 proportions." 
 
 "Plants adapt themselves to surrounding conditions," 
 he remarked. "The oak tree in its proper latitude is tall 
 and stately ; trace it toward the Arctic circle, and it be- 
 comes knotted, gnarled, rheumatic, and finally dwindles 
 to a shrub. The castor plant in the tropics is twenty or 
 thirty feet in height, in the temperate zone it is an her- 
 baceous plant, farther north it has no existence. Indian 
 corn in Kentucky is luxuriant, tall, and graceful, and 
 each stalk is supplied with roots to the second and third 
 joint, while in the northland it scarcely reaches to the 
 shoulder of a man, and, in order to escape the early 
 northern frost, arrives at maturity before the more south- 
 ern variety begins to tassel. The common jimson weed 
 (datura stramonium) , planted in early spring, in rich soil, 
 grows luxuriantly, covers a broad expanse and bears an 
 abundance of fruit ; planted in midsummer it blossoms 
 when but a few inches in height, and between two 
 terminal leaves hastens to produce a single capsule on the 
 apex of the short stem, in order to ripen its seed before 
 the frost appears. These and other familiar examples 
 might be cited concerning the difference some species of 
 vegetation of your former lands undergo under climatic 
 conditions less marked than between those that govern 
 the growth of fungi here and on surface earth. Such 
 
iio Etidorhpa 
 
 specimens of fungi as grow in your former home have 
 escaped from these underground regions, and are as 
 much out of place as are the tropical plants transplanted 
 to the edge of eternal snow. Indeed, more so, for on the 
 earth the ordinary fungus, as a rule, germinates after sun- 
 set, and often dies when the sun rises, while here they 
 may grow in peace eternally. These meandering caverns 
 comprise thousands of miles of surface covered by these 
 growths which shall yet fulfil a grand purpose in the 
 economy of nature, for they are destined to feed tramping 
 multitudes when the day appears in which the nations of 
 men united into one brotherhood will desert the surface 
 of the earth and pass as a single people through these 
 caverns on their way to the immaculate existence to be 
 found in the inner sphere." 
 
 "I cannot disprove your statement," I again repeated; 
 "neither do I accept it. However, it still seems to me un- 
 natural to find such delicious flavors and delicate odors 
 connected with objects associated with insipid things, or 
 substances as disagreeable as toadstools and the rank 
 forest fungi which I abhorred on earth." 
 
 Then, as he had done before when the subject of vital- 
 ized darkness confronted us, the guide entered into a 
 discussion concerning the foods of man, after which we 
 again resumed our journey. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE CRY FROM A DISTANCE. 1 REBEL AGAINST CON- 
 TINUING THE JOURNEY. 
 
 As we paced along I became more sensibly impressed 
 with the fact that our progress was down a rapid dec- 
 lination. The saline incrustations, fungi and stalagmites 
 rapidly changed in appearance, an endless variety of 
 stony figures and vegetable cryptogams recurring suc- 
 cessively before my eyes. They bore the shape of trees, 
 shrubs, or animals, fixed and silent as statues ; at least in 
 my distorted condition of mind I could make out re- 
 semblances to many such familiar objects ; the floor of 
 the cavern became increasingly steeper, as was shown by 
 the stalactites, which, hanging here and there from the 
 invisible ceiling, made a decided angle with the floor, 
 corresponding with a similar angle of the stalagmites be- 
 low. Like an accompanying and encircling halo, the ever- 
 present earth-light enveloped us, opening in front as we 
 advanced and vanishing in the rear. The sound of our 
 footsteps gave back a peculiar, indescribable hollow echo, 
 and our voices sounded ghost-like and unearthly, as if 
 their origin was outside of our bodies, and at a distance. 
 The peculiar resonance reminded me of noises reverberat- 
 ing in an empty cask or cistern. I was oppressed by an 
 indescribable feeling of mystery and awe that grew deep 
 and intense, until at last I could no longer bear the mental 
 strain. 
 
 "Hold, hold," I shouted, or tried to shout, and stopped 
 suddenly, for although I had cried aloud, no sound 
 escaped my lips. Then from a distance — could I believe 
 my senses? — from a distance as an echo, the cry came 
 back in the tones of my own voice, "Hold, hold." 
 
 "Speak lower," said my guide, "speak very low, for 
 
1 1 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 now an effort such as you have made projects your voice 
 far outside your body ; the greater the exertion the farther 
 away it appears." 
 
 I grasped him by the arm and said slowly, determinedly, 
 and in a suppressed tone : "I have come far enough into 
 the secret caverns of the earth, without knowing our 
 destination; acquaint me now with the object of this 
 mysterious journey, I demand, and at once relieve this 
 sense of uncertainty ; otherwise I shall go no farther." 
 
 "You are to proceed to the Sphere of Rest with me," 
 he replied, "and in safety. Beyond that an Unknown 
 Country lies, into which I have never ventured." 
 
 "You speak in enigmas ; what is this Sphere of Rest ? 
 Where is it?" 
 
 "Your eyes have never seen anything similar ; human 
 philosophy has no conception of it, and I cannot de- 
 scribe it," he said. "It is located in the body of the earth, 
 and we will meet it about one thousand miles beyond the 
 North Pole." 
 
 "But I am in Kentucky," I replied; "do you think that 
 I propose to walk to the North Pole, man — if man you be ; 
 that unreached goal is thousands of miles away." 
 
 "True," he answered, "as you measure distance on the 
 surface of the earth, you could not walk it in years of 
 time ; but you are now twenty-five miles below the sur- 
 face, and you must be aware that instead of becoming 
 more weary as we proceed, you are now and have for 
 some time been gaining strength. I would also call to 
 your attention that you neither hunger nor thirst." 
 
 "Proceed," I said, " 'tis useless to rebel ; I am wholly 
 in your power," and we resumed our journey, and rapidly 
 went forward amid silences that were to me painful be- 
 yond description. Next we abruptly entered a cavern 
 of crystal, every portion of which was of sparkling bril- 
 liancy, and as white as snow. The stalactites, stalagmites 
 and fungi now disappeared. I picked up a fragment of 
 the bright material, tasted it, and found that it resembled 
 pure salt. Monstrous, cubical crystals, a foot or more in 
 
MONSTRULS dKICAl, CRYSTALS. 
 
The Cry From a Distance 113 
 
 diameter, stood out in bold relief, accumulations of them, 
 as conglomerated masses, banked up here and there, mak- 
 ing parts of great columnar cliffs, while in other 
 formations the crystals were small, resembling in the 
 aggregate masses of white sandstone. 
 
 "Is not this salt?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes ; we are now in the dried bed of an underground 
 lake." 
 
 "Dried bed?" I exclaimed; "a body of water sealed in 
 the earth cannot evaporate." 
 
 "It has not evaporated ; at some remote period the 
 water has been abstracted from the salt, and probably has 
 escaped upon the surface of the earth as a fresh water 
 spring." 
 
 "You contradict all laws of hydrostatics, as I under- 
 stand that subject," I replied, "when you speak of 
 abstracting water from a dissolved substance that is part 
 of a liquid, and thus leaving the solids." 
 
 "Nevertheless this is a constant act of Nature," said 
 he ; "how else can you rationally account for the great salt 
 beds and other deposits of saline materials that exist 
 hermetically sealed beneath the earth's surface?" 
 
 "I will confess that I have not given the subject much 
 thought ; I simply accept the usual explanation to the 
 effect that salty seas have lost their water by evaporation, 
 and afterward the salt formations, by some convulsions of 
 Nature, have been covered with earth, perhaps sinking 
 by earthquake convulsions bodily into the earth." 
 
 "These explanations are examples of some of the 
 erroneous views of scientific writers," he replied ; "they 
 are true only to a limited extent. The great beds of salt, 
 deep in the earth, are usually accumulations left there by 
 water that was drawn from brine lakes, from which the 
 liberated water often escaped as pure spring water at the 
 surface of the earth. It does not escape by evaporation, 
 at least not until it reaches the earth's surface." 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MY UNBIDDEN GUEST, I-AM-THE-MAN, PROVES HIS STATE- 
 MENT AND REFUTES MY PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Let the reader who has followed this strange story 
 which I am directed to title "The End of Earth," and 
 who, in imagination, has traversed the cavernous pas- 
 sages of the underworld and listened to the conversation 
 of those two personages who journeyed toward the 
 secrets of the Beyond, return now to upper earth, and 
 once more enter my secluded lodgings, the home of 
 Llewellyn Drury, him who listened to the aged guest and 
 who claims your present attention. Remember that I re- 
 late a story within a story. That importunate guest of 
 mine, of the glittering knife and the silvery hair, like an- 
 other Ancient Mariner, had constrained me to listen to his 
 narrative, as he read it aloud to me from the manuscript. 
 I patiently heard chapter after chapter, generally with 
 pleasure, often with surprise, sometimes with incredulity, 
 or downright dissent. Much of the narrative, I must say 
 — yes, most of it, appeared possible, if not probable, as 
 taken in its connected sequence. The marvels of the 
 fungus groves, the properties of the inner light, I was not 
 disinclined to accept as true to natural laws ; but when 
 The-Man-Who-Did-It came to tell of the intra-earth salt 
 deposits, and to explain the cause of the disappearance of 
 lakes that formerly existed underground, and their 
 simultaneous replacement by beds of salt, my credulity 
 was overstrained. 
 
 "Permit me to interrupt your narrative," I remarked, 
 and then in response to my request the venerable guest 
 laid down his paper. 
 
 "Well ?" he said, interrogatively. 
 
My Unbidden Guest 1 1 5 
 
 "I do not believe that last statement concerning the 
 salt lake, and, to speak plainly, I would not have acquiesced 
 as you did, even had I been in your situation." 
 
 "To what do you allude?" he asked. 
 
 "The physical abstraction of water from the salt of a 
 solution of salt ; I do not believe it possible unless by 
 evaporation of the water." 
 
 "You seem to accept as conclusive the statements of 
 men who have never investigated beneath the surface in 
 these directions, and you question the evidence of a man 
 who has seen the phenomenon. I presume you accept the 
 prevailing notions about salt beds, as you do the assertion 
 that liquids seek a common level, which your scientific 
 authorities also teach as a law of Nature ?" 
 
 "Yes ; I do believe that liquids seek a common level, 
 and I am willing to credit your other improbable state- 
 ments if you can demonstrate the principle of liquid 
 equilibrium to be untrue." 
 
 "Then," said he, "to-morrow evening I will show you 
 that fluids seek different levels, and also explain to you 
 how liquids may leave the solids they hold in solution 
 without evaporating from them." 
 
 He arose and abruptly departed. It was near morning, 
 and yet I sat in my room alone pondering the story of my 
 unique guest until I slept to dream of caverns and seances 
 until daylight, when I was awakened by their vividness. 
 The fire was out, the room was cold, and, shivering in 
 nervous exhaustion, I crept into bed to sleep and dream 
 again of horrible things I cannot describe, but which 
 made me shudder in affright at their recollection. Late 
 in the day I awoke. 
 
 The next evening my self-imposed visitor appeared 
 early, and by means of a series of experiments proceeded 
 to demonstrate the correctness of his assertions. He em- 
 ployed the simplest of apparatus, which consisted only 
 of a few glass tubes and strips of blotting-paper. After 
 I had been silenced, as unconcerned as had been his 
 previous deportment, he took his manuscript and con- 
 
1 1 6 Etidorhpa 
 
 tinued to read in a clear, steady voice, while I sat a more 
 contented listener than I had been previously. I was not 
 only confuted, but convinced. And I recalled a saying 
 of Socrates, that no better fortune can happen a man 
 than to be confuted in an error. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MY WEIGHT DISAPPEARING. 
 
 We halted suddenly, for we came unexpectedly to the 
 edge of a precipice, twenty feet at least in depth. 
 
 ■'Let us jump down," said my guide. 
 
 "That would be dangerous," I answered ; "can we not 
 descend at some point where it is not so deep?" 
 
 "No; the chasm stretches for miles across our path, 
 and at this point we shall meet with the least difficulty ; 
 besides, there is no danger. The specific gravity of our 
 bodies is now so little that we could jump twice that 
 distance with impunity." 
 
 "I cannot comprehend you; we are in the flesh, our 
 bodies are possessed of weight, the concussion will be 
 violent." 
 
 "You reason again from the condition of your former 
 life, and, as usual, are mistaken ; there will be little shock, 
 for, as I have said, our bodies are comparatively light 
 now. Have you forgotten that your motion is continuously 
 accelerated, and that without perceptible exertion you 
 move rapidly? This is partly because of the loss of 
 weight. Your weight would now be only about fifty 
 pounds if tested by a spring balance." 
 
 I stood incredulous. 
 
 "You trifle with me ; I weigh over one hundred and 
 fifty pounds ; how have I lost weight ? It is true that I 
 have noticed the ease with which we have recently pro- 
 gressed on our journey, especially the latter part of it, but 
 I attribute this, in part, to the fact that our course is 
 down an incline, and also to the vitalizing power of this 
 cavern air." 
 
 "This explains part of the matter," he said; "it an- 
 
ii8 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 swered at the time, and I stated a fact ; but were it not 
 that you are really consuming a comparatively small 
 
 h.. Mmi 
 
 ( Jw,/ ^^^ 
 
 >II ;( 
 
 
 "^r^ 
 
 je^ 
 
 I BOUNDED UPWARD FULLY SIX FEET. 
 
 amount of energy, you would long before this have been 
 completely exhausted. You have been gaining strength 
 for some hours ; have really been growing younger. 
 
My Weight Disappearing 119 
 
 Your wrinkled face has become more smooth, and your 
 voice is again natural. You were prematurely aged by 
 your brothers on the surface of the earth in order that, 
 when you pass the line of gravity, you might be vigorous 
 and enjoying manhood again. Had this aging process 
 not been accomplished you would now have become as a 
 child in many respects." 
 
 He halted before me. "Jump up," he said. I promptly 
 obeyed the unexpected command, and sprang upward 
 with sufficient force to carry me, as I supposed, six 
 inches from the earth ; however, I bounded upward fully 
 six feet. My look of surprise as I gently alighted, for 
 there was no concussion on my return, seemed lost on 
 my guide, and he quietly said : 
 
 "If you can leap six feet upward without excessive 
 exertion or return shock, cannot you jump twenty feet 
 down? Look!" 
 
 And he leaped lightly over the precipice and stood un- 
 harmed on the stony floor below. 
 
 Even then I hesitated, observing which, he cried : 
 
 "Hang by your hands from the edge then, and drop." 
 
 I did so, and the fourteen feet of fall seemed to afifect 
 me as though I had become as light as cork. I fluttered 
 to the earth as a leaf would fall, and leaned against the 
 precipice in surprised meditation. 
 
 "Others have been through your experience," he re- 
 marked, "and I therefore can overlook your incredulity ; 
 but experiences such as you now meet remove distrust. 
 Doing is believing." He smiled benignantly. 
 
 I pondered, revolving in my mind the fact that per- 
 sons had, in mental abstraction, passed through unusual 
 experiences in ignorance of conditions about them, until 
 their attention had been called to the seen and yet un- 
 noticed surroundings, and they had then beheld the facts 
 plainly. The puzzle picture stares the eye and impresses 
 the retina, but is devoid of character until the hidden 
 form is developed in the mind, and then that form is 
 always prominent to the eye. My remarkably light step. 
 
I 20 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 now that my attention had been directed thereto, was 
 constantly in my mind, and I found myself suddenly 
 
 
 WE LEAPED OVER GREAT INEQUALITIES, 
 
 possessed of the strength of a man, but with the weight 
 of an infant. I raised my feet without an effort ; they 
 seemed destitute of weight ; I leaped about, tumbled, and 
 
My Weight Disappearing i2i 
 
 rolled over and over on the smooth stone floor without 
 injury. It appeared that I had become the airy similitude 
 of my former self, my material substance having wasted 
 away without a corresponding impairment of strength. 
 I pinched my flesh to be assured that all was not a dream, 
 and then endeavored to convince myself that I was the 
 victim of delirium ; but in vain. Too sternly my self- 
 existence confronted me as a reality, a cruel reality. A 
 species of intoxication possessed me once more, and I 
 now hoped for the end, whatever it might be. We re- 
 sumed our journey, and rushed on with increasing rapid- 
 ity, galloping hand in hand, down, down, ever down- 
 ward into the illuminated crevice of the earth. The 
 spectral light by which we were aureoled increased in 
 intensity, as by arithmetical progression, and I could 
 now distinguish objects at a considerable distance before 
 us. My spirits rose as if I were under the influence of a 
 potent stimulant ; a liveliness that was the opposite of 
 my recent despondency had gained control, and I was 
 again possessed of a delicious mental sensation, to which 
 I can only refer as a most rapturous exhilaration. My 
 guide grasped my hand firmly, and his touch, instead 
 of revolting me as formerly it had done, gave pleasure. 
 We together leaped over great inequalities in the floor, 
 performing these aerial feats almost as easily as a bird 
 flies. Indeed, I felt that I possessed the power of flight, 
 for we bounded fearlessly down great declivities and over 
 abysses that were often perpendicular and many times 
 our height. A very slight muscular exertion was suffi- 
 cient to carry us rods of distance, and, almost tiptoeing, 
 we skimmed with ever increasing speed down the 
 steeps of that unknown declivity. At length my guide 
 held back ; we gradually lessened our velocity, and after 
 a time rested confronted by a horizontal substance which 
 lay before us, apparently a sheet of glass, rigid, immov- 
 able, immeasurably great, that stretched as a level sur- 
 face before us, vividly distinct in the brightness of an 
 
122 Etidorhpa 
 
 earth light, that now proved to be superior to sunshine. 
 Far as the eye could reach the glassy barrier to our 
 further progress spread as a crystal mirror in front, and, 
 vanishing in the distance, shut off the beyond. 
 
KAK AS •I'lII". KYK (Dri.l) KKAi li I H I-, i,l,\>>\ l;AKKll'k M'KI'.AI) AS A. 
 I KVSTAI, MIKKoR." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MY UNBIDDEN GUEST DEPARTS. 
 
 Once more I must presume to interrupt this narrative 
 and call back the reader's thoughts from those mysterious 
 caverns through which we have been tracing the rapid 
 footsteps of the man who was abducted, and his uncouth 
 pilot of the lower realms. Let us now see and hear what 
 took place in my room, in Cincinnati, just after my visitor, 
 known to us as The-Man-Who-Did-It, had finished read- 
 ing to me, Llewellyn Drury, the custodian of this manu- 
 script, the curious chapter relating how the underground 
 explorers lost weight as they descended in the hollows of 
 the earth, and how at length they were confronted by the 
 strange barrier that appeared before them. My French 
 clock struck twelve of its clear silvery notes before the 
 gray-bearded reader finished his stint for the occasion, 
 and folded his manuscript preparatory to placing it within 
 his bosom. 
 
 "It is past midnight," he said, "and it is time for me 
 to depart ; but I will come to you again within a year. 
 
 "Meanwhile, during my absence, search the records, 
 question authorities, and note such objections as rise 
 therefrom concerning the statements I have made. 
 Establish or disprove historically or scientifically any 
 portion of the life history that I have given, and when I 
 return I will hear what you have to say, and meet your 
 argument. If there is a doubt concerning the authenticity 
 of any part of the history, investigate ; but make no 
 mention to others of the details of our meetings." 
 
 I sat some time in thought, then said : "I decline to con- 
 cern myself in verifying the historical part of your nar- 
 rative. The localities you mention may be true to name, 
 and it is possible that you have related a personal history ; 
 
1 24 Etidorhpa 
 
 but I cannot perceive that I am interested in either prov- 
 ing or disproving it. I will say, however, that it does 
 not seem probable that at any time a man can disappear 
 from a community, as you claim to have done, and be the 
 means of creating a commotion in his neighborhood that 
 affected political parties, or even led to an unusual local 
 excitement, outside his immediate circle of acquaintances, 
 for a man is not of sufificient importance unless he is very 
 conspicuous. By your own admission, you were simply 
 a studious mechanic, a credulous believer in alchemistic 
 vagaries, and as I revolve the matter over, I am afraid 
 that you are now trying to impose on my credulity. The 
 story of a forcible abduction, in the manner you related, 
 seems to me incredible, and not worthy of investigation, 
 even had I the inclination to concern myself in your per- 
 sonal affairs. The statements, however, that you make 
 regarding the nature of the crust of the earth, gravitation, 
 light, instinct, and human senses are highly interesting, 
 and even plausible as you artfully present the subjects, 
 I candidly admit, and I shall take some pains to make in- 
 quiries concerning the recorded researches of experts who 
 have investigated in that direction." 
 
 "Collect your evidence," said he, "that I may listen to 
 your views when I return." 
 
 He opened the door, glided away, and again I was 
 alone. 
 
 But he did not return the next night, nor yet the next, 
 nor yet the week nor the month following. However, I 
 spared no pains to collect evidence to use in refuting his 
 arguments, consulting conspicuous scientists, even Pro- 
 fessor Daniel Vaughn, but to no efifect. Let us then pass 
 to the next interview in which, one year thereafter, I-Am- 
 The-Man appears. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE MOTHER OF A VOLCANO. — "yOU CANNOT DISPROVE, 
 AND YOU DARE NOT ADMIT." 
 
 A YEAR from the evening of the departure of the old 
 man found me in my room, and I was not surprised when 
 he opened the door, and seated himself in his accustomed 
 chair. 
 
 'Are you ready to challenge my statements?" he 
 asked, taking up the subject as though our conversation 
 had not been interrupted. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Do you accept my history?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You cannot disprove, and you dare not admit. You 
 have failed in every endeavor to discredit the truth, and 
 your would-be scientists, much as they would like to do 
 so, cannot serve you. Now we will continue the narra- 
 tive, and I shall await your next attempt to cast a shadow 
 over the facts." 
 
 Then with his usual pleasant smile he read from his 
 manuscript a continuation of the intra-earth journey as 
 follows : 
 
 "Be seated," said my eyeless guide, "and let me explain 
 some facts that may prove of interest in connection with 
 the nature of the superficial crust of the earth. This 
 crystal liquid spreading before us is a placid sheet of 
 '.vater, and is the feeder of the volcano Mount Epomeo." 
 
 "Can that be a surface of water?" I interrogated. "I 
 tind it difficult to realize that water can be so immovable. 
 I supposed the substance before us to be a rigid material, 
 like glass, perhaps." 
 
 "There is no wind to ruffle this aqueous surface — why 
 should it not be quiescent? This is the only perfectly 
 
126 Etidorhpa 
 
 smooth sheet of water that you have ever seen. It is in 
 absolute rest, and thus appears a rigid level plane." 
 
 "Grant that your explanation is correct," I said, "yet I 
 cannot understand how a quiet lake of water can give 
 rise to a convulsion such as the eruption of a volcano." 
 
 "Not only is this possible," he responded, "but water 
 usually causes the exhibition of phenomena known as 
 volcanic action. The Island of Ischia, in which the 
 volcanic crater Epomeo is situated, is connected by a tor- 
 tuous crevice with the peaceful pool by which we now 
 stand, and at periods, separated by great intervals of time, 
 the lake is partly emptied by a simple natural process, 
 and a part of its water is expelled above the earth's sur- 
 face in the form of superheated steam, which escapes 
 through that distant crater." 
 
 "But I see no evidence of heat or even motion of anv 
 kind." 
 
 "Not here," he replied; "in this place there is none. 
 The energy is developed thousands of miles away, but 
 since the phenomena of volcanic action are to be partially 
 explained to you at a future day, I will leave that matter 
 for the present. We shall cross this lake." 
 
 I observed as we walked along its edge that the shore 
 of the lake which precipitous in places, again formed a 
 gradually descending beach, and the dead silence of the 
 space about us, in connection with the death-like stillness 
 of that rigid mass of water and its surroundings, became 
 increasingly impressive and awe-inspiring. Never before 
 had I seen such a perfectly quiet glass-like surface. Not 
 a vibration or undulation appeared in any direction. The 
 solidity of steel was exemplified in its steady, apparently 
 inflexible contour, and yet the pure element was so trans- 
 parent that the bottom of the pool was as clearly defined 
 as the top of the cavern above me. The lights and shades 
 of the familiar lakes of Western New York were wanting 
 here, and it suddenly came to my mind that there were 
 surface reflections, but no shadows, and musing on this 
 extraordinary fact, I stood motionless on a jutting cliflF 
 
The Mother of a Volcano i 27 
 
 absorbed in meditation, abstractedly gazing down into 
 that transparent depth. Without sun or moon, without 
 apparent source of light, and yet perfectly illuminated, 
 the lofty caverns seemed cut by that aqueous plane into 
 two sections, one above and one below a transparent, rigid 
 surface line. The dividing line, or horizontal plane, ap- 
 peared as much a surface of air as a surface of water, and 
 the material above that plane seemed no more nor less a 
 gas or liquid than that beneath it. If two limpid, trans- 
 parent liquids, immiscible, but of different gavities, be 
 poured into the same vessel, the line of demarcation will 
 be as a brilliant mirror, such as I now beheld parting and 
 yet uniting the surfaces of air and water. 
 
 Lost in contemplation, I unconsciously asked the men- 
 tal question : 
 
 "Where are the shadows ?" 
 
 My guide replied : 
 
 "You have been accustomed to lakes on the surface of 
 the earth — water that is illuminated from above ; now you 
 see by a light that is developed from within and below, as 
 well as from above. There is no outside point of il- 
 lumination for the light of this cavern, as you know, is 
 neither transmitted through an overlying atmosphere nor 
 radiated from a luminous centre. It is an inherent 
 quality, and as objects above us and within the lake are 
 illuminated alike from all sides, there can be no shadows." 
 
 Musingly, I said : 
 
 "That which has occurred before in this journey to the 
 unknown country of which I have been advised seemed 
 mysterious ; but each succeeding step discovers to me an- 
 other novelty that is more marvellous, with unlooked-for 
 phenomena that are more obscure." 
 
 "This phenomenon is not more of a mystery than is the 
 fact that light radiates from the sun. Man cannot ex- 
 plain that, and I shall not now attempt to explain this. 
 Both conditions are attributes of force, but with this dis- 
 tinction — the crude light and heat of the sun, such as men 
 experience on the surface of the earth, is here refined and 
 
128 Etidorhpa 
 
 softened, and the characteristic glare and harshness of the 
 light that is known to those who Hve on the earth's sur- 
 face is absent here. The solar ray, after penetrating the 
 earth's crust, is tempered and refined by agencies which 
 man will yet investigate understandingly, but which he 
 cannot now comprehend." 
 
 "Am I destined to deal with these problems?" 
 
 "Only in part." 
 
 "Are still greater wonders before us?" 
 
 "If your courage is sufficient to carry you onward, you 
 have yet to enter the portal of the expanse we approach." 
 
 "Lead on, my friend," I cried ; "lead on to these un- 
 described scenes, the occult wonderland that" — 
 
 He interrupted me almost rudely, and in a serious man- 
 ner said : 
 
 "Have you not learned that wonder is an exemplifi- 
 cation of ignorance? The child wonders at a goblin 
 story, the savage at a trinket, the man of science at an 
 unexplained manifestation of a previously unperceived 
 natural law ; each wonders in ignorance, because of 
 ignorance. Accept now that all you have seen from the 
 day of your birth to the present, and all that you will 
 meet are wonderful only because the finite mind of man 
 is confused by fragments of evidence, that, from whatever 
 direction we meet them, spring from an unreachable in- 
 finity. We will continue our journey." 
 
 Proceeding farther along the edge of the lake, we came 
 to a metallic boat. This my guide picked up as easily as 
 though it were of paper, for be it remembered that 
 gravitation had slackened its hold here. Placing it upon 
 the water, he stepped into it, and as directed I seated my- 
 self near the stern, my face to the bow, my back to the 
 shore. The guide, directly in front of me, gently and 
 very slowly moved a small lever that rested on a pro- 
 jection before him, and I gazed intently upon him as we 
 sat together in silence. At last I became impatient, and 
 asked him if we would not soon begin our journey. 
 
" \\K CAMK TO A MKIAI. HOAT." 
 
The Mother of a Volcano 129 
 
 "We have been on our way since we have been seated," 
 he answered. 
 
 I gazed behind with increduHty : the shore had disap- 
 peared, and the diverging wake of the ripples showed 
 that we were rapidly skimming the water. 
 
 "This is marvellous," I said ; "incomprehensible, for 
 without sail or oar, wind or steam, we are fleeing over a 
 lake that has no current." 
 
 "True, but not marvellous. Motion of matter is a re- 
 sult of disturbance of energy connected therewith. Is it 
 not scientifically demonstrated, at least in theory, that if 
 the motion of the spirit that causes the magnetic needle 
 to assume its familiar position were really arrested in the 
 substance of the needle, either the metal would fuse and 
 vaporize or (if the forces did not appear in some other 
 form, such as heat, electricity, magnetism, or other force) 
 the needle would be hurled onward with great speed?" 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MOTION FROM INHERENT ENERGY. "lEAD ME DEEPER 
 
 INTO THIS EXPANDING STUDY.'' 
 
 "I PARTLY comprehend that such would be the case," I 
 said. 
 
 "If a series of knife blades on pivot ends be set in a 
 frame, and turned edgewise to a rapid current of water, 
 the swiftly moving stream flows through this sieve of 
 metallic edges about as easily as if there were no 
 obstructions. Slowly turn the blades so as to present 
 their oblique sides to the current, and an immediate pres- 
 sure is apparent upon the frame that holds them ; turn the 
 blades so as to shut up the space, and they will be torn 
 from their sockets, or the entire frame will be shattered 
 into pieces." 
 
 "I understand ; go on." 
 
 "The ethereal current that generates the magnetic 
 force passes through material bodies with inconceivable 
 rapidity, and the molecules of a few substances only 
 present to it the least obstruction. Material molecules are 
 edgewise in it, and meet no retardation in the subtle flood. 
 This force is a disturbance of space energy that is rush- 
 ing into the earth in one form, and out of it in another. 
 But your mind is not yet in a condition to grasp the sub- 
 ject, for at best there is no method of explaining to men 
 that which their experimental education has failed to pre- 
 pare them to receive, and for which first absolutely new 
 ideas, and next words with new meaning, must be formed. 
 Now we (by we I mean those with whom I am con- 
 nected) have learned to disturb the molecules in matter 
 so as to turn them partly, or entirely, across the path of 
 this magnetic current, and thus interrupt the motion of 
 this ever-present energy. We can retard its velocity 
 
Motion and Inherent Energy i 3 i 
 
 without, however, producing either magnetism (as is the 
 case in a bar of steel), electricity, or heat, but motion in- 
 stead, and thus a portion of this retarded energy springs 
 into its new existence as motion of my boat. It is force 
 changed into movement of matter, for the molecules of 
 the boat, as a mass, must move onward as the force disap- 
 pears as a current. Perhaps you can accept now that in- 
 stead of light, heat, electricity, magnetism, and gravita- 
 tion being really modifications of force they are disturb- 
 ances." 
 
 "Disturbances of what?" 
 
 "Disturbances of motion." 
 
 "Motion of what?" 
 
 "Motion of itself, pure and simple." 
 
 "I cannot comprehend. I cannot conceive of motion 
 pure and simple." 
 
 "I shall explain at a future time, so that you can com- 
 prehend more clearly. Other lessons must come first, but 
 never will you see the end. Truth is infinite." 
 
 Continuing, he said : 
 
 "Let me ask if there is anything marvellous in this 
 statement. On the earth's surface men arrest the fitful 
 wind, and by so doing divert the energy of its motion 
 into movement of machinery ; they induce it to turn mills 
 and propel vessels. This motion of air is a disturbance, 
 mass motion transmitted to the air by heat, heat in turn 
 being a disturbance or interruption of pure motion. When 
 men learn to interrupt this unperceived stream of energy^ 
 so as to change directly into material motion the spirit 
 that saturates the universe, and that produces force ex- 
 pressions, as it is constantly rushing from earth into 
 space, and from space back again, they will have at com- 
 mand wherever they may be an endless source of power, 
 light, and heat ; mass motion, light and heat being inter- 
 convertible. iMotion lies behind heat, light, and electricity, 
 and produces them, and so long as the earth revolves on 
 its axis, and circles in its orbit, man needs no light and 
 heat from such indirect sources as combustion. Men will 
 
132 Etidorhpa 
 
 surely yet obtain motion of molecules (heat), and 
 material mass motion as well, from earth motion, with- 
 out the intermediate force expressions now deemed neces- 
 sary in their production/' 
 
 "Do you wish me to understand that on all parts of the 
 earth's surface there is a continual expenditure of energy, 
 an ever-ready current, that is really distinct from the light 
 and heat of the sun, and also that the imponderable bodies 
 that we call heat, light, electricity, and magnetism are 
 not substances at all?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied. 
 
 "And that this imperceptible something — fluid I will 
 say, for want of a better term — now invisible and un- 
 known to man, is as a medium in which the earth, sub- 
 merged, floats as a speck of dust in a flood of space ?" 
 
 "Certainly," he replied. 
 
 "Am 1 to infer from your remarks that, in the course 
 of time, man will be able to economize this force, and 
 adapt it to his wants?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Go on with your exposition, I again beg of you ; lead 
 me deeper into this expanding study." 
 
 "There is but little more that you can comprehend now, 
 as I have said," he answered. "All materials known to 
 man are of coarse texture, and the minds of men are not 
 yet in a condition to comprehend finer exhibitions of 
 force, or of motion modifications. Pure energy, in all its 
 modifications, is absolutely unknown to man. What men 
 call heat, gravitation, light, electricity, and magnetism 
 are the grosser attributes attending alterations in an un- 
 known, attenuated, highly developed force producer. 
 They are results, not causes. The real force, an un- 
 reached energy, is now flooding all space, pervading all 
 materials. Everywhere there exists an infinite sea of 
 absolute motion. Since this primeval entity cannot now 
 affect matter, as matter is known to man, man's sense can 
 only be influenced by secondary attributes of this energy. 
 Unconscious of its all-pervading presence, however, man 
 
Motion and Inherent Energy 133 
 
 is working towara the power that will some day, upon 
 the development of latent senses, open to him this new 
 world. Then at last he will move without muscular ex- 
 ertion, or the use of heat as an agent of motion, and will, 
 as I am now doing, bridle the motion of space. Wherever 
 he may be situated, there will then be warmth to any de- 
 gree that he wishes, for he will be able to temper the sea- 
 sons ; and mass motion illimitable, also, for this energy, I 
 reiterate, is omnipresent. However, as you will know 
 more of this before long, let us pass the subject for the 
 present." 
 
 My guide slowly moved the lever. I sat in deep re- 
 flection, beginning to comprehend somewhat of his rea- 
 soning, and yet my mind was more than clouded. The 
 several ambiguous repetitions he had made since our 
 journey commenced, each time suggesting the same idea, 
 yet clothing it in different forms of expression, impressed 
 me vaguely with the conception of a certain something 
 for which I was gradually being prepared, and which I 
 might eventually be educated to comprehend, but which 
 he believed my mind was not yet ready to receive. I 
 gathered from what he said that he could have given 
 clearer explanations than he was now doing, and that he 
 clothed his language intentionally in mysticism, and that, 
 for some reason, he preferred to leave my mind in a con- 
 dition of uncertainty. The velocity of the boat increased 
 as he again and again cautiously touched the lever, and 
 at last the responsive craft rose nearly out of the water, 
 and skimmed like a bird over its surface. There was no 
 object in that lake of pure crystal to govern me in cal- 
 culating as to the rapidity of our motion, and I studied 
 to evolve a method by which I could time our movements. 
 With this object in view I tore a scrap from my clothing 
 and tossed it into the air. It fell at my feet as if in a calm. 
 There was no breeze. I picked the fragment up, in be- 
 wilderment, for I had expected it to fall behind us. Then 
 it occurred to me, as by a flash, that notwithstanding our 
 apparently rapid motion, there was an entire absence of 
 
1 34 Etidorhpa 
 
 atmospheric resistance. What could explain the para- 
 dox? I turned to my guide and again tossed the frag- 
 ment of cloth upward, and again it settled at my feet. He 
 smiled, and answered my silent inquiry. 
 
 "There is a protecting sheet before us, radiating, fan- 
 like, from the bow of our boat as if a large pane of glass 
 were resting on edge, thus shedding the force of the 
 wind. This diaphragm catches the attenuated atmos- 
 phere and protects us from its friction." 
 
 "But I see no such protecting object," I answered. 
 
 "No; it is invisible. You cannot see the obstructing 
 power, for it is really a gyrating section of force, and is 
 colorless. That spray of metal on the brow of our boat is 
 the developer of this protecting medium. Imagine a 
 transverse section of an eddy of water on edge before us, 
 and you can form a comparison. Throw the bit of gar- 
 ment as far as you can beyond the side of the boat." 
 
 I did so, and saw it flutter slowly away to a consider- 
 able distance parallel with our position in the boat as 
 though in a perfect calm, and then it disappeared. It 
 seemed to have been dissolved. I gazed at my guide in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Try again," said he. 
 
 I tore another and a larger fragment from my coat 
 sleeve. I fixed my eyes closely upon it, and cast it from 
 me. The bit of garment fluttered listlessly away to the 
 same distance, and then — vacancy. Wonders of wonder- 
 land, mysteries of the mysterious ! What would be the 
 end of this marvellous journey? Suspicion again 
 possessed me, and distrust arose. Could not my self-exist- 
 ence be blotted out in like manner? I thought again of 
 my New York home, and the recollection of upper earth, 
 and those broken family ties brought to my heart a flood 
 of bitter emotions. I inwardly cursed the writer of that 
 alchemistic letter, and cursed myself for heeding the con- 
 tents. The tears gushed from my eyes and trickled 
 through my fingers as I covered my face with my hands 
 
Motion and Inherent Energy 135 
 
 and groaned aloud. Then, with a gentle touch, my 
 guide's hand rested on my shoulder. 
 
 "Calm yourself," he said ; "this phenomenon is a 
 natural sequence to a deeper study of Nature than man 
 has reached. It is simply the result of an exhibition of 
 rapid motion. You are upon a great underground lake, 
 that, on a shelf of earth substance one hundred and fifty 
 miles below the earth's surface, has an average depth of 
 five miles and covers an area of many thousand square 
 miles. We are now crossing it diagonally at a rapid rate 
 by the aid of the force that man will yet use in a perfectly 
 natural manner on the rough upper ocean and bleak lands 
 of the earth's coarse surface. The fragments of cloth dis- 
 appeared from sight when thrown beyond the influence of 
 our protecting diaphragm, because when they struck the 
 outer motionless atmosphere they were instantly left be- 
 hind ; the eye could not catch their sudden change in 
 motion. A period of time is necessary to convey from eye 
 to mind the sensation of sight. The bullet shot from a 
 gun is invisible by reason of the fact that the eye cannot 
 discern the momentary interruption to the light. A 
 cannon ball will compass the field of vision of the eye, 
 moving across it without making itself known, and yet 
 the fact does not excite surprise. We are travelling so 
 fast that small, stationary objects outside our track are in- 
 visible." 
 
 Then in a kind, pathetic tone of voice, he said : 
 "An important lesson you should learn, I have men- 
 tioned it before. Whatever seems to be mysterious or 
 marvellous is only so because of the lack of knowledge of 
 associated natural phenomena and connected conditions. 
 All that you have experienced, all that you have yet to 
 meet in your future journey, is in exact accordance with 
 the laws that govern the universe, of which the earth con- 
 stitutes so small a portion that, were the conditions favor- 
 able, it could be blotted from its present existence as 
 quickly as that bit of garment disappeared, and with as 
 
136 Etidorhpa 
 
 little disturbance of the mechanism of the moving 
 universe." 
 
 I leaned over, resting my face upon my elbow ; my 
 thoughts were immethodically wandering in the midst of 
 multiplying perplexities. I closed my eyes as a weary 
 child, and slept. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SLEEP, DREAMS, NIGHTMARE. '^STRANGLE THE LIFE FROM 
 
 MY BODY." 
 
 I KNOW not how long I sat wrapped in slumber. Even 
 if my body had not been wearing away as formerly, my 
 mind had become excessively wearied. I had existed in 
 a state of abnormal mental intoxication far beyond the 
 period of accustomed wakefulness, and had taxed my in- 
 tellectual organization beyond endurance. In the midst 
 of events of the most startling description I had abruptly 
 passed into what was at its commencement the sweetest 
 sleep of my recollection, but which came to a horrible ter- 
 mination. 
 
 In my dream I was transported once more to my native 
 land, and roamed in freedom throughout the streets of 
 my lost home. I lived over again my early life in Vir- 
 ginia, and I seemed to have lost all recollection of the 
 weird journey which I had lately taken. My subsequent 
 connection with the brotherhood of alchemists, and the 
 unfortunate letter that led to my present condition, were 
 forgotten. There came no thought suggestive of the 
 train of events that are here chronicled, and as a child I 
 tasted again the pleasures of innocence, the joys of boy- 
 hood. 
 
 Then my dream of childhood vanished, and the scenes 
 of later days spread themselves before me. I saw, after a 
 time, the scenes of my later life, as though I viewed them 
 from a distance, and was impressed with the idea that 
 they were not real, but only the fragments of a dream. I 
 shuddered in my childish dreamland, and trembled as a 
 child would at confronting events of the real life that I 
 had passed through on earth, and that gradually assuming 
 the shape of man approached and stood before me, a 
 
138 Etidorhpa 
 
 hideous spectre seemingly ready to absorb me. The 
 peaceful child in which I existed shrunk back, and re- 
 coiled from the approaching living man. 
 
 "Away, away," I cried, "you shall not grasp me, I do 
 not wish to become a man ; this cannot, must not be the 
 horrible end to a sweet existence." 
 
 Gradually the ^Man Life approached, seized and en- 
 veloped me, closing around me as a jelly fish surrounds 
 its living victim, while the horrors of a nightmare came 
 over my soul. 
 
 "Man's life is a fearful dream," I shouted, as I writhed 
 in agony ; "I am still a child, and will remain one ; keep 
 off ! Life of man, away ! let me live and die a child." 
 
 The Spectre of Man's Life seized me more firmly as I 
 struggled to escape, and holding me in its irresistible 
 clutch absorbed my substance as a vampire might suck 
 the blood of an infant, and while the childish dream dis- 
 appeared in that hideous embrace, the miserable man 
 awoke. 
 
 I found myself on land. The guide, seated at my side, 
 remarked : 
 
 "You have slept." 
 
 "T have lived again," I said in bitterness. 
 
 "You have not lived at all as yet," he replied ; "life is 
 a dream, usually it is an unsatisfied nightmare." 
 
 "Then let me dream again as at the beginning of this 
 slumber," I said ; "and while I dream as a child, do you 
 strangle the life from my body — spare me the nightmare, 
 I would not live to reach the Life of Man." 
 
 "This is sarcasm," he replied ; "you are as changeable 
 as the winds of the earth's surface. Now as you are about 
 to approach a part of our journey where fortitude is 
 necessary, behold, you waver as a little child might. 
 Nerve yourself; the trials of the present require a steady 
 mind, let the future care for itself; you cannot recall the 
 past." 
 
 I became attentive again ; the depressing effects of that 
 repellent dream rapidly lifted, and wasted away, as I real- 
 
Sleep, Dreams, Nightmare 139 
 
 ized that I was a man, ana was yet destined to see more 
 than can be seen in the future of other mortals. This 
 elevation of my spirit was evidently understood by my 
 guide. He turned to the lake, and pointing to its quiet 
 bosom, remarked : 
 
 "For five hours we have journeyed over this sheet of 
 water at the average rate of nine hundred miles an hour. 
 At the time you threw the fragments of cloth overboard 
 we were travelling at a speed of not less than twenty miles 
 per minute. You remember that some hours ago you 
 criticised my assertion when I said that we would soon 
 be near the axis of the earth beneath the North Pole, and 
 now we are beyond that point, and are about six thou- 
 sand miles from where we stood at that time." 
 
 "You must have your way," I replied ; "I cannot dis- 
 prove your assertion, but were it not that I have passed 
 through so many marvellous experiences since first we 
 met, I would question the reliability of your information." 
 
 My guide continued : 
 
 "The surface of this lake lies as a mirror beneath both 
 the ocean and the land. The force effect that preserves 
 the configuration of the ocean preserves the form of this 
 also, but influences it to a less extent, the two surfaces lie 
 nearly parallel with each other, this one being one hun- 
 dred and fifty miles beneath the surface of the earth. The 
 shell of the earth above us is honeycombed by caverns in 
 some places, in others it is compact, and yet in most 
 places is impervious to water. At the farther extremity 
 of the lake a stratum of porous material extends through 
 the space intervening between the bottom of the ocean 
 and this lake. By capillary attraction, assisted by 
 gravitation, part of the water of the ocean is being trans- 
 ferred through that stratum to the underground cavity. 
 The lake is slowly rising." 
 
 At this remark I interrupted him : "You say the water 
 in the ocean is being slowly transferred down to this un- 
 derground lake less by gravity than by capillarity." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
140 Etidorhpa 
 
 'I believe that I have reason to question that statement, 
 if you do not include the salt," I replied. 
 
 "Pray state your objections." 
 
 I answered : "Whether a tube be long or short, if it 
 penetrate the bottom of a vessel of brine, and extend 
 downward, the brine will flow into and out of it by reason 
 of its weight." 
 
 "You mistake," he asserted ; "the attraction of the sides 
 of the capillary tube, if the tube is long enough, will 
 eventually separate the water from the salt, and at length 
 a downward flow of water only will result." 
 
 I again expressed my incredulity. 
 
 "More than this, by perfectly natural laws the water 
 that is freed from the tubes might again force itself up- 
 ward perfectly fresh, to the surface of the earth — yes, 
 under proper conditions, above the surface of the ocean." 
 
 "Do you take me for a fool?" I said. "Is it not self- 
 evident that a fountain cannot rise above its source?" 
 
 "It often does," he answered. 
 
 "You trifle with me," I said acrimoniously. 
 
 "No," he replied; "I am telling you the truth. Have 
 you never heard of what men call artesian wells ?" 
 
 "Yes, and" (here I attempted in turn to become 
 sarcastic) "have you never learned that they are caused 
 by water flowing into crevices in uplands where layers of 
 stone or of clay strata separated by sand or gravel slant 
 upward? The water conducted thence by these channels 
 afterward springs up in the valleys to which it has been 
 carried by means of the crevices in these strata, but it 
 never rises above its source." 
 
 To my surprise he answered : 
 
 "This is another of man's scientific speculations, based 
 on some facts, it is true, and now and then correct, but 
 not invariably. The water of an artesian well on an 
 elevated plane may flow into the earth from a creek, pond, 
 or river that is lower than the mouth of the well it feeds, 
 and still it may spout into the air from either a near or 
 distant elevation that is higher than its source." 
 
Sleep, Dreams, Nightmare 141 
 
 "I cannot admit the truth of this," 1 said ; "I am will- 
 ing to listen to reason, but such statements as these seem 
 altogether absurd." 
 
 "As you please," he replied ; "we will continue our 
 journey." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A CHALLENGE. MY UNBIDDEN GUEST ACCEPTS IT. LOOK- 
 ING BACKWARD. THE LIVING BRAIN. 
 
 The white-haired reader, in whom I had now become 
 deeply interested, no longer an unwelcome stranger, 
 suspended his reading, laid down his manuscript, and 
 looking me in the face, asked : 
 
 "Are you a believer, Llewellyn?" 
 
 "No," I promptly answered. 
 
 "What part of the narrative do vou question?" 
 
 "All of it." 
 
 "Have you not already investigated some of the state- 
 ments I previously made?" he queried. 
 
 "Yes," I said ; "but you had not then given utterance to 
 such preposterous expressions." 
 
 "Is not the truth the truth?" he answered. 
 
 "You ask me to believe impossibilities," I replied. 
 
 "Name one." 
 
 "You yourself admit," I said warmly, "that you were 
 incredulous, and shook your head when your guide as- 
 serted that the bottom of the ocean might be as porous as 
 a sieve, and still hold water. A fountain cannot rise 
 above its source." 
 
 "It often does, however," he replied. 
 
 "I do not believe you," I said boldly. "And, further- 
 more, I assert that you might as reasonably ask me to be- 
 lieve that I can see my own brain as to accept your fiction 
 regarding the production of light, miles below the sur- 
 face of the earth." 
 
 "I can make your brain visible to you, and if you dare 
 to accompany me, I will carry you beneath the surface of 
 the earth and prove my other statement," he said. 
 "Come !" He arose and grasped my arm. 
 
A Challenge 143 
 
 The old man accompanied his word "come" by rising 
 from his chair, and then with a display of strength quite 
 out of proportion to his age he grasped my wrist and 
 drew me toward the door. Realizing at once that he in- 
 tended I should accompany him into the night, I pro- 
 tested, saying that I was quite unprepared. 
 
 "My hat, at least," I insisted, as he made no recognition 
 of my first demur. 
 
 "Your hat is on your head," he replied. 
 
 This was true, although I am sure the hat had been 
 previously hung on a rack in a distant part of the room, 
 and I am equally certain that neither my companion nor 
 myself had touched it. Leaving me no time for reflection, 
 he opened the door and drew me through the hallway 
 and into the gloom. As though perfectly familiar with 
 the city, he guided me from my cosey home on the re- 
 tired side street in which I resided, eastwardly into the 
 busy thoroughfare. Western Row. Our course led us 
 down toward the river, past Ninth, Eighth, Seventh 
 Streets. Now and then a pedestrian stopped to gaze in 
 surprise at the unique spectacle, the old man leading 
 the young one, but none made any attempt to molest 
 us. We passed on in silence out of the busy part of the 
 thoroughfare and into the shady part of the city, into the 
 darkness below Fifth Street. Here the residences were 
 poorer and tenement-houses and factories began to ap- 
 pear. We were now in a quarter of the city into which 
 strangers seldom, if ever, penetrated after night, and in 
 which I would not have cared to be found unprotected 
 at any time after sunset, much less in such questionable 
 company. I protested against the indiscretion ; my 
 leader made no reply, but drew me on past the flickering 
 gas lights that now and then appeared at the intersection 
 of Third, Pearl, Second and Water streets, until at last 
 we stood, in darkness, on the bank of the Ohio River. 
 
 The ferry-boat at that time of night only made a trip 
 every thirty minutes, and yet it was at the landing as 
 though by appointment. Fear began to possess me, and 
 
144 Etidorhpa 
 
 as my thoughts recur to that evening I cannot under- 
 stand how it was that I allowed myself to be drawn with- 
 out cry or resistance from my secure home to the Ohio 
 River in such companionship. I can account for the 
 adventure only by the fact that I had deliberately chal- 
 lenged my companion to make the test he was fulfilling, 
 and that an innate consciousness of pride and justice 
 compelled me to permit him to employ his own methods. 
 We crossed the river without speaking, and rapidly as- 
 cending the levee, we took our course up Main Street into 
 Covington. Still in the lead, my aged guide, without 
 hesitation, went onward to the intersection of Main and 
 Pike streets ; thence he turned to the right and, follow- 
 ing the latter thoroughfare, we passed the old tannery, 
 that I recalled as a familiar landmark, and then started 
 up the hill. Onward we strode, past a hotel named "Nie- 
 meyer's," and soon were in the open country on the 
 Lexington Pike, treading through the mud, diagonally 
 up the hill back of Covington. Then, at a sharp curve 
 in the road where it rounded the point of the hill, we left 
 the highway and struck down the hillside into a ravine 
 that bounded the lower side of the avenue. We had long 
 since left the city lamps and sidewalks behind us, and 
 now, when we left the roadway, were on the muddy pike 
 at a considerable elevation upon the hillside, and, looking 
 backward, I beheld innumerable lights throughout the 
 cities of Cincinnati, Covington, and the village of New- 
 port sparkling away in the distance behind and below us. 
 
 "Come," my companion said again, as I hesitated, re- 
 peating the only word he had uttered since telling his hor- 
 rible story, "come !" 
 
 Down the hill into the valley we plunged, and at last 
 he opened the door of an isolated log cabin, which we 
 entered. He lighted a candle that he drew from his 
 pocket, and together we stood facing each other. 
 
 "Be seated," he said dryly. 
 
 And then I observed that the cold excuse for furniture 
 in that desolate room consisted of a single rude, hand- 
 
A Challenge 145 
 
 made chair with corn-shuck bottom. However, I did 
 not need a second invitation, but sank exhausted and dis- 
 consolate upon the welcome object. 
 
 My companion lost no time, but struck at once into the 
 subject that concerned us, arguing as follows : 
 
 "One of the troubles with humanity is that of changing 
 a thought from the old to a new channel ; to grasp an 
 entirely new idea at one effort is an impossibility. Men 
 follow men in trains of thought expression, as in bodily 
 form generations of men follow generations. A child 
 born with three legs is a freak of Nature, a monstrosity, 
 yet it sometimes appears. A man possessed of a new idea 
 is an anomaly, a something that may not be impossible, 
 but which has never appeared. It is almost as difficult 
 to conceive of a new idea as it is to create out of nothing 
 a new material or an element. Neither thoughts nor 
 things can be invented, both must be evolved out of a 
 pre-existing something which it necessarily resembles. 
 Every advanced idea that appears in the brain of man 
 is the result of a suggestion from without. Men have 
 gone on and on ceaselessly, with their minds bent in one 
 direction, ever looking outwardly, never inwardly. It 
 has not occurred to them to question at all in the direc- 
 tion of backward sight. Mind has been enabled to read 
 the impressions that are made in and on the substance 
 of brain convolutions, but at the same time has been and 
 is insensible to the existence of the convolutions them- 
 selves. It is as though we could read the letters of the 
 manuscript that bears them without having conceived of 
 a necessity for the existence of a carrying surface, such 
 as paper or anything outside the letters. Had anatomists 
 never dissected a brain, the human family would to-day 
 live in absolute ignorance of the nature of the sub- 
 stance that lies within the skull. Did you ever stop to 
 think that the mind cannot now bring to the senses the 
 configuration, or nature, of the substance in which mind 
 exists? Its own house is unknown. This is in conse- 
 quence of the fact that physical existence has always de- 
 
146 Etidorhpa 
 
 pended upon the study of external surroundings, and 
 consequently the power of internal sight lies undeveloped. 
 It has never been deemed necessary for man to attempt 
 to view the internal construction of his body, and hence 
 the sense of feeling only advises him of that which lies 
 within his own self. This sense is abstract, not descrip- 
 tive. Normal organs have no sensible existence. Thus 
 an abnormal condition of an organ creates the sensation 
 of pain or pleasure, but discloses nothing concerning the 
 appearance or construction of the organ affected. The 
 perfect liver is as vacancy. The normal brain never 
 throbs and aches. The quiescent arm presents no evi- 
 dence to the mind concerning its shape, size, or color. 
 Man cannot count his fingers unless some outside object 
 touches them or they press successively against each 
 other, or he perceives them by sight. The brain of man, 
 the seat of knowledge, in which mind centres, is not 
 perceptible through the senses. Does it not seem irra- 
 tional, however, to believe that mind itself is not aware, 
 or could not be made cognizant, of the nature of its ma- 
 terial surroundings?" 
 
 "I must confess that I have not given the subject a 
 thought," I replied. 
 
 "As I predicted," he said. "It is a step toward a new 
 idea, and simple as it seems, now that the subject has 
 been suggested, you must agree that thousands of intel- 
 ligent men have not been able to formulate the thought. 
 The idea had never occurred to them. Even after our 
 previous conversation concerning the possibility of show- 
 ing you your own brain, you were powerless and could 
 not conceive of the train of thought which I started, and 
 along which I shall now further direct your senses. 
 
 "The eye is so constituted that light produces an im- 
 pression on a nervous film in the rear of that organ ; this 
 film is named the retina ; the impression being carried 
 backward therefrom through a magma of nerve fibres 
 (the optic nerve), and, reaching the brain, is recorded 
 on that organ, and thus afifects the mind. Is it not 
 
A Challenge 147 
 
 rational to suppose it possible for this sequence to be 
 reversed? In other words, if the order were reversed, 
 could not the same set of nerves carry an impression 
 from behind to the retina, and picture thereon an image 
 of the object which lies anterior thereto, to be again, by 
 reflex action, carried back to the brain, thus bringing 
 the brain substance itself to the view of the mind, and 
 thus impress the senses? To recapitulate: If the nerve 
 sensation, or force expression, should travel from the 
 brain to the retina, instead of from an outward object, 
 it will on the reverse of the retina produce the image of 
 that which lies behind, and then if the optic nerve carry 
 the image back to the brain, the mind will bring to the 
 senses the appearance of the image depicted thereon." 
 
 "This is my first consideration of the subject," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 "Exactly," he said ; "you have passed through life 
 looking at outside objects, and have been heedlessly ig- 
 norant of your own brain. You have never made an 
 exclamation of surprise at the statement that you really 
 see a star that exists in the depths of space millions of 
 miles beyond our solar system, and yet you became in- 
 credulous and scornful when it was suggested that I 
 could show you how you could see the configuration of 
 your brain, an object with which the organ of sight is 
 nearly in contact. How inconsistent !" 
 
 "The chain of reasoning is certainly novel, and yet I 
 cannot think of a mode by which I can reverse my 
 method of sight and look backward." I now resoectfully 
 answered. 
 
 "It is very simple ; all that is required is a counter ex- 
 citation of the nerve, and we have with us to-night what 
 any person who cares to investigate the subject can em- 
 ploy at any time, and thus behold an outline of a part 
 of his own brain. Let me give you the lesson." 
 
 Placing himself before the sashless window of the 
 cabin, which opening appeared as a black space pictured 
 against the night, the sage took the candle in his right 
 
148 Etidorhpa 
 
 hand, holding it so that the flame was just below the tip 
 of the nose and about six inches from his face. Then, 
 facing the open window, he turned the pupils of his 
 €ves upward, seeming to fix his gaze on the upper part 
 of the open window space, and then he slowly moved 
 the candle transversely backward and forward across in 
 front of his face, keeping it in such position that the 
 flickering flame made a parallel line with his eyes, and, 
 as just remarked, about six inches from his face and just 
 below the tip of his nose. Speaking deliberately, he said : 
 
 "Now, were I you, this movement would produce a 
 counter irritation of the retina ; a rhythm of the optic 
 nerve would follow, a reflex action of the brain accom- 
 panying, and now a figure of part of the brain that rests 
 against the skull in the back of my head w'ould be pic- 
 tured on the retina. I would see it plainly, apparently 
 pictured or thrown across the open space before me." 
 
 '"Incredible!" I replied. 
 
 "Try for yourself," quietly said my guide. 
 
 Placing myself in the position designated, I repeated 
 the manoeuvre, when slowly a shadowy something seemed 
 to be evolved out of the blank space before me. It 
 seemed to be as a gray veil, or like a corrugated sheet 
 as thin as gauze, which, as I gazed upon it and discov- 
 ered its outline, became more apparent and real. Soon 
 the convolutions assumed a more decided form, the gray 
 matter was visible, filled with venations, first gray and 
 then red, and as I became familiar with the sight, sud- 
 denly the convolutions of the brain in all its exactness, 
 with a network of red blood venations, burst into exist- 
 ence.* 
 
 I beheld a brain, a brain, a living brain, my own brain, 
 and as an uncanny sensation possessed me I shudder- 
 
 * This experiment is not claimed as original. See Purkinje's 
 Beitrage zur Kenntniss des Sehens in subjectiver Hinsicht 
 (Prague, 1823 and 1825), whose conclusions I-Am-the-Man 
 ignores. — J. U. L. 
 
FACING THK OPKN WINDOW IIF. riKNKI) lUK ITPILS i)F HIS EYES 
 Ll'WAKl)."' 
 
A Challenge 
 
 149 
 
 ingly stopped the motion of the candle, and in an instant 
 the shadowy figure disappeared. 
 
 "Have I won the wager?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 ■'Then," said my companion, "make no further investi- 
 gations in this direction." 
 
 "But I wish to verify the experiment," I repHed. "Al- 
 though it is not a pleasant test, I cannot withstand the 
 temptation to repeat it." 
 
 And again I moved the candle backward and forward, 
 
 A BRAIN, A LIVING BRAIN, MY OWN BRAIN. 
 
 when the figure of my brain sprung at once into exist- 
 ence. 
 
 "It is more vivid," I said ; "I see it plainer and more 
 quickly than before." 
 
 "Beware of the science of man, I repeat," he replied ; 
 "now, before you are deep in the toils and cannot foresee 
 the end, beware of the science of human biology. 
 
 I made no reply, but stood with my face fixed, slowly 
 moving the candle backward and forward, gazing in- 
 tently into the depths of my own brain. 
 
 After a time the old man removed the candle from 
 
150 Etidorhpa 
 
 my liand, and said : "Do you accept the fact ? Have I 
 ■demonstrated the truth of the assertion?" 
 
 "Yes," I repHed ; "but tell me further, now that you 
 have excited my interest, have I seen and learned all that 
 man can discover in this direction?" 
 
 "No; you have seen but a small portion of the brain 
 convolutions, only those that lie directly back of the 
 optic nerve. By systematic research, under proper con- 
 ditions, every part of the living brain may become as 
 plainly pictured as that which you have seen." 
 
 "And is that all that could be learned?" I asked. 
 
 "No," he continued. "Further development may en- 
 able men to picture the figures engraved on the convolu- 
 tions, and at last to read the thoughts that are engraved 
 within the brains of others, and thus through material 
 investigation the observer will perceive the recorded 
 thought of another person. An instrument capable of 
 searching and illuminating the retina could be easily 
 affixed to the eye of a criminal, after which, if the mind 
 of the person operated upon were stimulated by the sug- 
 gestion of an occurrence either remote or recent, the 
 mind faculty would excite the brain, produce the record, 
 and spread the circumstances as a picture before the 
 observer. The brain would tell its own story, and the 
 investigator could read the truth as recorded in the brain 
 of the other man. A criminal subjected to such an ex- 
 amination could not tell an untruth or equivocate ; his 
 very brain would present itself to the observer." 
 
 "And yovi make this assertion, and then ask me to go 
 no further into the subject?" 
 
 "Yes; decidedly yes." 
 
 "Tell me, then, could you not have performed this 
 experiment in my room, or in the dark cellar of my 
 house ?" 
 
 "Any one can repeat it with a candle in any room not 
 otherwise lighted, by looking at a blackboard, a blank 
 wall, or black space," he said. 
 
 I was indignant. 
 
A Challenge 151 
 
 "Why have you treated me so inhumanly? Was there 
 a necessity for this journey, these mysterious move- 
 ments, this physical exertion? Look at the mud with 
 which I am covered, and consider the return trip which 
 yet lies before me, and which must prove even more ex- 
 hausting?" 
 
 "Ah," he said, "you overdraw. The lesson has been 
 easily acquired. Science is not an easy road to travel. 
 Those who propose to profit thereby must work circui- 
 tously, soil their hands and person, meet discouragements, 
 and must expect hardships, reverses, abuse, and dis- 
 comfort. Do not complain, but thank me for giving you 
 the lesson without other tribulations that might have 
 accompanied it. Besides, there was another object in 
 my journey, an object that I have quietly accomplished, 
 and which you may never know. Come, we must re- 
 turn." 
 
 He extinguished the light of the candle and we de- 
 parted together, trudging back through the mud and the 
 night. 
 
 Of that wearisome return trip I have nothing to say 
 beyond the fact that before reaching home my com- 
 panion disappeared in the darkness of a side street, and 
 that the Cathedral chimes were playing for three o'clock 
 A. M. as I passed the corner of Eighth Street and West- 
 ern Row. 
 
 The next evening my visitor appeared as usual, and 
 realizing his complete victory, he made no reference to 
 the occurrences of the previous night. In his usual calm 
 and deliberate manner he produced the roll of manu- 
 script, saying benignantly and in a gentle tone : 
 
 "Do you recollect where I left off reading?" 
 
 "You had reached that point in your narrative," I 
 answered, "at which your guide had replaced the boat on 
 the surface of the lake." 
 
 And then the mysterious being, my visitor, resumed 
 his reading. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 PRIMARY COLORS ARE CAPABLE OF FURTHER SUBDIVISION. 
 
 "Get into the boat," said my eyeless pilot, "and we will 
 proceed to the farther edge of the lake, over the barrier 
 of which, at great intervals of time, the surface water 
 flows and induces the convulsion known as Mount 
 Epomeo." 
 
 We accordingly embarked, and a gentle touch of the 
 lever enabled us rapidly to skirt the shore of the under- 
 ground sea. The soft, bright, pleasant earth-light con- 
 tinually enveloped us, and the absence of either exces- 
 sive heat or cold rendered existence delightful. The 
 weird forms taken by the objects that successively pre- 
 sented themselves on the shore were a source of con- 
 tinual delight to my mind. The motion of our boat was 
 constantly at the will of my guide. Now we would skim 
 across a great bay, flashing from point to point ; again 
 we wound slowly through tortuous channels and among 
 partly submerged stones. 
 
 "What a blessing this mode of locomotion would be 
 to humanity," I murmured. 
 
 "Humanity will yet attain it," he replied. "Step by 
 step men have stumbled along tow^ard the goal that the 
 light of coming centuries is destined to illuminate. They 
 have studied, and are still engaged in studying, the prop- 
 erties of grosser forces, such as heat and electricity, and 
 they will be led by the thread they are following to this 
 and other achievements yet unthought of, but which lie 
 back of those more conspicuous." 
 
 We finally reached a precipitous bluff that sprang to 
 my view as by magic, and which, with a glass-like sur- 
 face, stretched upward to a height beyond the scope of 
 my vision, rising straight from the surface of the lake. 
 
Hii 
 
 \VK. KlNALl.V KKACHKl) A I'KE'JII'ITOIS KUl-F." 
 
Primary Colors 153 
 
 It was composed of a material seemingly black as jet, 
 and yet when seen under varying spectacular conditions 
 as we skirted its base it reflected, or emitted, most gor- 
 geously the brilliant hues of the rainbow, and also other 
 colors hitherto unknown to me. 
 
 "There is something unique in these shades ; species of 
 color appear that I cannot identify; I seem to perceive 
 colors utterly unlike any that I know, as the result of 
 deflected or transmitted sunlight rays ; they are unlike 
 the combinations of primary colors with which I am 
 familiar." 
 
 "Your observations are true; some of these colors are 
 unknown on earth." 
 
 "But on the surface of the earth we have all possible 
 combinations of the prismatic rays," 1 answered. "How 
 can there be others here?" 
 
 "Because, first, your primary colors are capable of fur- 
 ther subdivision. 
 
 "Second, other rays, invisible to men under usual con- 
 ditions, also emanate from the sun, and under favorable 
 circumstances may be brought to the sense of sight." 
 
 "Do you assert that the prism is capable of only partly 
 analyzing the sunlight?" 
 
 "Yes ; what reason have you to argue that because a 
 triangular bit of glass resolves a white ray into seven 
 fractions that are, as men say, differently colored, you 
 could not by proper methods subdivide each of these 
 so-called primary shades into others? What reason have 
 you to doubt that rays now invisible to man accompany 
 those capable of impressing his senses, and might, by 
 proper methods, become perceptible as new colors?" 
 
 "None," I answered ; "only that I have no proof that 
 such rays exist." 
 
 "But they do "3t, and men will yet learn that the 
 term 'primitive' ray, as applied to each of the seven 
 colors of the rainbow, is incorrect. Each will yet be re- 
 solved, and as Ou, ^acuities multiply and become more 
 subtle, other colors will be developed, possessed of a 
 
154 Etidorhpa 
 
 delicacy and richness indescribable now, for as yet man 
 cannot comprehend the possibilities of education beyond 
 the limits of his present condition." 
 
 During this period of conversation we skirted the 
 richly colored bluff with a rapid motion, and at last shot 
 beyond it, as with a flash, into seeming vacancy. I was 
 sitting with my gaze directed toward the bluff, and 
 when it instantly disappeared, I rubbed my eyes to con- 
 vince myself of their truthfulnesss, and as I did so our 
 boat came gradually to a stand on the edge of what ap- 
 peared to be an unfathomable abyss. Beneath me on the 
 side where had risen the bluff that disappeared so 
 abruptly, as far as the eye could reach was an absolute 
 void. To our right, and before and behind us, stretched 
 the surface of that great smooth lake on whose bosom 
 we rested. To our left, our boat brushing its rim, a nar- 
 row ledge, a continuation of the black, glass-like material, 
 reached only a foot above the water, and beyond this 
 narrow brink the mass descended perpendicularly to 
 seemingly infinite depths. Involuntarily I grasped the 
 sides of the boat, and recoiled from the frightful chasm 
 over which I had been so suddenly suspended, and which 
 exceeded anything of a similar description I had ever 
 seen. The immeasurable depth of the abyss, in connec- 
 tion with the apparently frail barrier that held the great 
 lake in its bounds, caused me to shudder and shrink back, 
 my brain reeled in dizzy fright. An inexplicable attrac- 
 tion, however, notwithstanding my dread, held me spell- 
 bound, and although I struggled to shut out that view, 
 the endeavor failed. I seemed to be drawn by an irresist- 
 ible power, and yet I shuddered at the awful majesty 
 of that yawning gulf which seemed to end the world on 
 which I then existed. Fascinated, entranced, I could 
 not help gazing, I knew not how long, down, down into 
 that fathomless, silent profundity. Composing myself, 
 I turned a questioning glance on my guide. 
 
 He informed me that this hard, glass-like dam confined 
 the waters of the slowly rising lake that we were sailing 
 
THK WALL DKSCKNl.KI, LKK IKNI ,]CL LARLV To SKKMIMW.V IXKIMTE 
 IJKPTHS." 
 
Primary Colors 155 
 
 over, and which finally would rise high enough to over- 
 flow the barrier. 
 
 "The cycle of the periodic overflow is measured by 
 great intervals," he said ; "centuries are required to raise 
 the level of the lake a fraction of an inch and thousands 
 of years may elapse before its surface will again reach 
 the top of the adamantine wall. Then, governed by the 
 law that attracts a liquid to itself, and heaps the teaspoon 
 with liquid, the waters of the quiet lake piles upon this 
 narrow wall, forming a ledge along its summit. Finally 
 the superimposed surface water gives way, and a skim of 
 water pours over into the abyss." 
 
 He paused ; I leaned over and meditated, for I had 
 now accustomed myself to the situation. 
 
 "There is no bottom," I exclaimed. 
 
 "Upon the contrary," he answered, "the bottom is less 
 than ten miles beneath us, arnl is a great funnel-shaped 
 orifice, the neck of the funnel reaching first down and 
 then upward from us diagonally toward the surface of 
 the earth. Although the light by which we are enveloped 
 is bright, yet it is deficient in penetrating power, and is 
 not capable of giving the contour of objects even five 
 miles away, hence the chasm seems bottomless and the 
 gulf measureless." 
 
 Then my visitor proceeded to discuss the subject of 
 volcanoes, earthquakes, geysers and allied phenomena, 
 after which my pilot abruptly asked 
 
 "What do you most desire?" 
 
 The question caused my mind to revert instantly to 
 my old home on the earth above me, and although I felt 
 the hope of returning to it spring up in my heart, the 
 force of habit caused me involuntarily to answer, "More 
 light !" 
 
 "More light being your desire, you shall receive it." 
 
 Obedient to his touch, the bow of the boat turned from 
 the gulf we had been considering toward the centre of the 
 lake ; the responsive craft leaped forward, and in an in- 
 stant the obsidian parapet disappeared behind us. On 
 
156 Etidorhpa 
 
 and over the trackless waste of glass-like water we sped, 
 until the dead silence became painfully oppressive, and I 
 asked : 
 
 "Whither are we bound?" 
 
 "Toward the east." 
 
 The well-timed answer raised my spirits ; I thought 
 again that in this man, despite his repulsive shape, I 
 beheld a friend, a brother; suspicion vanished, and my 
 courage rose. He touched the lever, and the craft, sub- 
 ject to his will, nearly rose from the water, and sped 
 with amazing velocity, as was evident from the appear- 
 ance of the luminous road behind us. So rapid was our 
 flight that the wake of the boat seemed as if made of 
 rigid parallel lines that disappeared in the distance, too 
 quick for the eye to catch the tremor. 
 
 Continuing his conversation, my companion informed 
 me that he had now directed the bark toward a point east 
 of the spot where we struck the shore, after crossing the 
 lake, in order that we might continue our journey down- 
 ward, diagonally to the under surface of the earth crust. 
 
 I was on the point of further questioning my pilot 
 when the motion of the boat was suspended, land ap- 
 peared ahead, we drew up to it, and disembarked. Lift- 
 ing the boat from the water, my guide placed it on land 
 at the edge of the motionless lake, and we resumed our 
 journey. The scenery seemed but little changed from 
 that of the latter part of our previous line of travel down 
 the inclined plane of the opposite side of the lake that 
 we had crossed. The direction was still downward after 
 leaving the high ridge that bordered the edge of the lake, 
 the floor of the cavern being usually smooth, although 
 occasionally it was rough and covered with stony debris. 
 The mysterious light grew perceptibly brighter as we 
 progressed, the fog-like halo previously mentioned be- 
 came less dense, and the ring of obscurity widened 
 rapidly. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 I CEASE TO BREATHE, AND YET LIVE. 
 
 During this conversation we had been rapidly walking, 
 or I should better say advancing, for we no longer walked 
 as men do, but skipped down into the earth, down, ever 
 downward. There were long periods of silence, in which 
 I was engaged in meditating over the problems that suc- 
 cessively demanded solution, and even had I desired to 
 do so I could have kept no record of time ; days, or even 
 weeks, may have been consumed in this journey. Neither 
 have I any method of judging of the rapidity of our 
 motion. I was sensible of a marked decrease in the 
 amount of muscular energy required to carry us onward, 
 and I realized that my body was quite exempt from 
 weariness. Motion became restful instead of exhausting, 
 and it seemed to me that the ratio of the loss of weight, 
 as shown by our free movements, in proportion to the dis- 
 tance we traversed, was greater than formerly. The 
 gentlest of propelling forc^ cast us rapidly forward. In- 
 stead of the laborious, short step of upper earth, a single 
 leap would carry us many yards. A slight spring, and 
 with our bodies in space, we would skip several rods, 
 alighting gently, to move again as easily. I marvelled, 
 for although I had been led to anticipate something un- 
 usual, the practical evidence was wonderfully impressive, 
 and I again questioned my guide. 
 
 "We are now nearing what physicists would call the 
 centre of gravity," he replied, "and our weight is rapidly 
 diminishing. This is in exact accordance with the laws 
 that govern the force called gravitation, which, at the 
 earth's surface, is throughout uniform, excepting the 
 slight deviation observed as men approach the poles. 
 It is known that mountains attract objects, and that 
 
158 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 a change in weight as we descend into the earth is 
 perceptible; but to evolve the true law, observation at a 
 distance of at least ten miles beneath the surface of the 
 ocean, is necessary, and man, being a creature whose 
 motions are confined to a thin, horizontal skin of earth, 
 has never been one mile beneath its surface, and in con- 
 sequence his opportunities for comparison are extremely 
 limited." 
 
 "I have been taught," I replied, "that the force of 
 
 'we would skip several rods, alighting gently. 
 
 gravitation decreases until the centre of the earth is 
 reached, at which point a body is without weight ; and I 
 can scarcely understand how such positive statements 
 from scientific men can be far from the truth." 
 
 "This hypothesis, though a stagger toward the right, is 
 far from the truth, but as near as could be expected, when 
 we consider the data upon which men base their calcula- 
 
I Cease to Breathe 159 
 
 tions. Were it not for the purpose of controverting errone- 
 ous views, men would have little incentive to continue 
 investigation, and as has been the rule in science hereto- 
 fore, the truth will, in time, appear in this case. One gen- 
 eration of students disproves the accepted theories of that 
 which precedes, all working to eliminate error, all adding 
 factors of error, and all together moving toward a com- 
 mon goal, a grand generalization, that as yet cannot be 
 perceived. And still each series of workers is overlook- 
 ing phenomena that, though obvious, are yet unperceived, 
 but which will make evident to future scientists the mis- 
 takes of the present. As an example of the manner in 
 which facts are thus overlooked, in your journey you have 
 been impressed with certain surprising external con- 
 ditions, or surroundings, and yet are oblivious to con- 
 ditions more remarkable in your own body. So it is with 
 scientists. They overlook prominent facts that stare them 
 boldly in the face, facts that are so conspicuous as to be 
 invisible by reason of their very nearness." 
 
 "This statement I cannot disprove, and therefore must 
 admit under protest. Where there is so much that ap- 
 pears mysterious I may have overlooked some things, but 
 I can scarcely accept that, in ignorance, I have passed 
 conditions in my own organization so marked as this de- 
 crease in gravity which has so strikingly been called to 
 my attention.'' 
 
 "You have, and to convince you I need only say that 
 you have nearly ceased to breathe, and are unconscious of 
 the fact." 
 
 I stopped short, in momentary alarm, and now that my 
 mind was directed to the fact, I became aware that I did 
 not desire to breathe, and that my chest had ceased to 
 heave with the alternate inhalation and exhalation of 
 former times. I closed my lips firmly, and for a long 
 period there was no desire for breath, then a slight in- 
 voluntary inhalation followed, and an exhalation, scarcely 
 noticeable, succeeded by a great interval of inaction. I 
 impulsively turned my face toward the passage we had 
 
i6o 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 trod ; a feeling of alarm possessed me, an uncontrollable, 
 inexpressible desire to flee from the mysterious earth- 
 being beside me, to return to men. and be an earth-surface 
 man again, and I started backward through the chamber 
 we had passed. 
 
 The guide seized me by the hand, "Hold, hold," he 
 cried; "where would you go, fickle mortal?" 
 
 "To the surface," I shouted ; "to daylight again. Un- 
 hand me, unearthly creature, abnormal being, man or 
 
 AN UNCONTROLLABLE, INEXPRESSIBLE DESIRE TO FLEE. 
 
 devil ; have you not inveigled me far enough into occult 
 realms that should be forever sealed from mankind? 
 Have you not taken from me all that men love or cherish, 
 and undone every tie of kith or kin? Have you not led 
 me into paths that the imagination of the novelist dare not 
 conjure, and into experiences that pen in human hand 
 would not venture to describe as possible, until I now 
 stand with my feet on the boundary line that borders 
 vacancy, and utter loss of weight ; with a body nearly lost 
 
I Cease to Breathe i6i 
 
 as a material substance, verging into nothing, and lastly 
 with breath practically extinguished, I say, and repeat, is 
 it not time that I should hesitate and pause in my reck- 
 less career?" 
 
 "It is not time," he answered. 
 
 "When will that hour come?" I asked in desperation, 
 and I trembled as he replied : 
 
 "When the three Great Lights are closed." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ""a certain point within a sphere/' — MEN ARE AS 
 PARASITES ON THE ROOF OF EARTH. 
 
 I REALIZED again, as I had so many times before, that 
 it was useless for me to rebel. "The self-imposed 
 mystery of a sacrificed life lies before me," I murmured, 
 "and there is no chance to retrace my footsteps. The 
 'Beyond' of the course that I have voluntarily selected, 
 and sworn to follow, is hidden ; I must nerve myself to 
 pursue it to the bitter end, and so help me God, and keep 
 me steadfast." 
 
 "Well said," he replied ; "and since you have so wisely 
 determined, I am free to inform you that these new 
 obligations, like those you have heretofore taken, contain 
 nothing which can conflict with your duty to God, vour 
 country, your neighbor, or yourself. 
 
 "In considering the phenomena presented by the sus- 
 pension of the act of breathing, it should occur to you that 
 where little labor is to be performed, little consumption of 
 energy is required. Where there is such a trifling de- 
 struction of the vital force (not mind force) as at pres- 
 ent is the case with us, it requires but slight respiration 
 to retain the normal condition of the body. On earth's 
 surface the act of respiration alone consumes by far the 
 larger proportion of vital energy, and the muscular ex- 
 ertion involved thereby necessitates a proportionate 
 amount of breathing in order that breath itself may con- 
 tinue. This act of respiration is the result of one of the 
 conditions of surface earth life, and consumes most of the 
 vital force. If men would think of this, they would un- 
 derstand how paradoxical it is for them to breathe in 
 order to live, when the very act of respiration wears away 
 their bodies and shortens their lives more than all else 
 
"A Certain Point Within a Sphere" 163 
 
 they do, and without adding to their mental or physical 
 constitution in the least. Men are conversant with 
 physical death as a constant result of suspended res- 
 piration, and with respiration as an accompaniment of 
 life, while ever constant and connected conditions lead 
 them to accept that the act of breathing is a necessity of 
 mortal life. In reality, man occupies an unfortunate 
 position among other undeveloped creatures of external 
 earth ; he is an animal, and is constitutionally framed like 
 the other animals about him. He is exposed to the war- 
 ring elements, to the vicious attacks of savage beasts and 
 insidious parasites, and to the inroads of disease. He is a 
 prey to the elementary vicissitudes of the undesirable ex- 
 posure in which he exists upon the outer surface of our 
 globe, where all is war, even among the forces of Nature 
 about him. These conditions render his lot an unhappy 
 one indeed, and in ignorance he overlooks the torments 
 of the weary, rasping, endless slavery of respiration in the 
 personal struggle he has to undergo in order to retain a 
 brief existence as an organized being. Have you never 
 thought of the connected tribulations that the wear and 
 tear of respiration alone inflict upon the human family? 
 The heaving of the chest, the circulation of the blood, the 
 throbbing of the heart, continue from mortal birth until 
 death. The heart of man forces about two and one-half 
 ounces of blood with each pulsation. At seventy beats 
 per minute this amounts to six hundred and fifty-six 
 pounds per hour, or nearly eight tons per day. The lungs 
 respire over one thousand times an hour, and move over 
 three thousand gallons of air a day. Multiply these 
 amounts by three hundred and sixty-five, and then by 
 seventy, and you have partly computed the enormous life- 
 work of the lungs and heart of an adult. Over two hun- 
 dred thousand tons of blood and seventy-five million gal- 
 lons of air have been moved by the vital force. The 
 energy thus consumed is dissipated. No return is made 
 for the expenditure of this life force. During the natural 
 life of man, more energy is consequently wasted in mate- 
 
1 64 Etidorhpa 
 
 rial transformation resulting from the motion of heart 
 and lungs than would be necessary to sustain the purely 
 vital forces only, for a thousand years. Besides, the act 
 of respiration which man is compelled to perform in his 
 exposed position necessitates the consumption of large 
 amounts of food, in order to preserve the animal heat and 
 replace the waste of a material body that in turn is worn 
 out by these very movements. Add this waste of energy 
 to the foregoing, and then you will surely perceive that 
 the possible life of man is also curtailed to another and 
 greater degree in the support of the digestive part of his 
 organism. His spirit is a slave to his body ; his lungs and 
 heart, on which he imagines life depends, are unceasing 
 antagonists of life. That his act of breathing is now a 
 necessity upon the surface of the earth, where the force 
 of gravity presses so heavily, and where the elements have 
 men at their command, and show him no mercy, I will 
 not deny; but it is exasperating to contemplate such a 
 waste of energy, and corresponding loss of human life." 
 
 "You must admit, however, that it is necessary?" I 
 queried. 
 
 "No ; only to an extent ; the natural life of man should, 
 and yet will be, doubled, trebled, multiplied a dozen, yes 
 a thousand fold." 
 
 I stepped in front of him ; we stood facing each other. 
 
 "Tell me," I cried, "how men can so improve their con- 
 dition as to lengthen their days to the limit you name, 
 and let me return to surface earth a carrier of the glad 
 tidings." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 I dropped on my knees before him. 
 
 "I implore you in behalf of that unfortunate humanity, 
 of which I am a member, give me this boon. I promise 
 to return to you and do your bidding. Whatever may be 
 my subsequent fate, I promise to acquiesce therein will- 
 ingly." 
 
 He raised aie to my feet. 
 
 "Be of good cheer," he said, "and in the proper time 
 
"A Certain Point Within a Sphere" 165 
 
 you may return to the surface of this rind of earth, a car- 
 rier of great and good news to men." 
 
 "Shall I teach them of what you have shown me?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes ; in part you will be a forerunner, but before you 
 obtain the information that is necessary to the comfort 
 of mankind you will have to visit surface earth again, and 
 return again, perhaps repeatedly. You must prove your- 
 self as men are seldom proven. The journey you have 
 
 I DROPPED ON MY KNEES BEFORE HIM. 
 
 commenced is far from its conclusion, and you may not be 
 equal to its subsequent trials; prepare yourself, there- 
 fore, for a series of events that may unnerve you. If you 
 had full confidence and faith in your guide, you would 
 have less cause to fear the result, but your suspicious 
 human nature cannot overcome the shrinking sensation 
 that is natural to those who have been educated as you 
 have been amid the changing vicissitudes of the earth's 
 surface, and you cannot but be incredulous by reason of 
 that education." 
 
1 66 Etidorhpa 
 
 Then I stopped as I observed before me a peculiar fun- 
 gus — peculiar because it was unlike all others I had seen. 
 The convex part of its bowl was below, and the great 
 head, as an inverted toadstool, stood upright on a short, 
 stem-like pedestal. The gills within were of a deep green 
 color, and curved out from the centre in the form of a 
 spiral. This form, however, was not the distinguishing 
 feature, for I had before observed specimens that were 
 spiral in structure. The extraordinary peculiarity was 
 that the gills were covered with fruit. This fruit was 
 likewise green in color, each spore, or berry, being from 
 two to three inches in diameter, and honeycombed on the 
 surface, corrugated most beautifully. I stopped, leaned 
 over the edge of the great bowl, and plucked a specimen 
 of the fruit. It seemed to be covered with a hard, trans- 
 parent shell, and to be nearly full of a clear, green liquid. 
 I handled and examined it in curiosity, at which my guide 
 seemed not to be surprised. Regarding me attentively, he 
 said : 
 
 "What is it that impels a mortal toward this fruit?" 
 
 "It is curious," I said ; "nothing more." 
 
 "As for that," said he, "it is not curious at all; the 
 seed of the lobelia of upper earth is more curious, be- 
 cause, while it is as exquisitely corrugated, it is also 
 microscopically small. In the second place, you err when 
 you say it is simply curious, 'nothing more,' for no mortal 
 ever yet passed that bowl without doing exactly as you 
 have done. The vein of curiosity, were it that alone 
 which impels you, could not but have an exception." 
 
 Then he cracked the shell of the fruit by striking it on 
 the stony floor, and carefully opened the shell, handing 
 me one of the halves filled with a green fluid. As he did 
 so he spoke the single word, "Drink," and I did as di-. 
 rected. He stood upright before me, and as I looked him 
 in the face seemingly, without a reason he struck off into 
 a dissertation, apparently as distinct from our line of 
 thought as a disconnected subject could be, as follows : 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DRUNKENNESS. THE DRINKS OF MAN. 
 
 "Intemperance has been the vice of every people, and 
 is prevalent in all climes, notwithstanding that intoxi- 
 cants, properly employed, may serve humanity's highest 
 aims. Beginning early in the history of a people, the 
 disease increases with the growth of a nation, until, at 
 last, unless the knife is used, civilization perishes. A 
 lowly people becomes more depraved as the use of liquor 
 increases ; a cultivated people passes backward into bar- 
 barism with the depravities that come from dissipation. 
 Here nations meet, and individuals sink to a common 
 level. No drinking man is strong enough to say, 'I can- 
 not become dissipated ;' no nation is rich and cultivated 
 enough to view the debauch of its people without alarm. 
 
 "The disgusting habit of the drunken African finds its 
 counterpart in the lascivious wine-bibber of aristocratic 
 society. To picture the indecencies of society, that may 
 be charged to debauchery, when the Grecian and Roman 
 empires were at the height of greatness, would obscure 
 the orgies of the barbarous African, and make preferable 
 the brutality of the drunken American Indian. Intem- 
 perance brings men to the lowest level, and holds its 
 power over all lands and all nations." 
 
 "Did the aborigines know how to make intoxicants, and 
 were barbarians intemperate before contact with civilized 
 nations?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But I have understood that drunkenness is a vice in- 
 herent only in civilized people; are not you mistaken?" 
 
 "No. Every clime, even to Greenland, where the 
 natives make a disgusting intoxicant of a peculiar fungus, 
 
1 68 Etidorhpa 
 
 furnishes intoxicants, and people of all climes use them. 
 I will tell you part of this record of nations. 
 
 "The Nubians make a barley beer which they call 
 bouze, and also a wine, from the palm tree. The savages 
 of Africa draw the clear, sweet juice of the palm oil tree 
 into a gourd, in the morning, and by night it becomes a 
 violent intoxicant. The natives of the Malayan Archipel- 
 ago ferment and drink the sap of the flower stems of the 
 cocoanut. The Tartar tribes make an intoxicating drink 
 from mare's milk, called koomis. In South America the 
 natives drink a vile compound, called cana, distilled from 
 sugar cane ; and in the Sandwich Islands, the shrub kava 
 supplies the intoxicant kava-kava, drunk by all the in- 
 habitants, from king to slave, and mother to child. In 
 the heart of Africa, cannibal tribes make leg>'ce of a 
 cereal, and indulge in wild orgies over their barbaric cup. 
 In North America the Indians, before Columbus dis- 
 covered America, made an intoxicating drink of the sap 
 of the maple tree. The national drink of the Mexicans 
 is pulque, a beastly intoxicant, prepared from the Agave 
 Americana. Mead is an alcoholic drink, made of honey, 
 and used in many countries. In China wine was indulged 
 in from the earliest day, and in former times, had it not 
 been for the influence of their philosophers, especially 
 Confucius, who foresaw the end, the Chinese nation 
 would have perished from drunkenness. Opium, that 
 fearful enslaver of millions of human beings, is in every 
 sense a narcotic intoxicant, and stands conspicuous as an 
 agent, capable of being either a friend, a companion, or a 
 master, as man permits. History fails to indicate the date 
 of its introduction to humanity. In South America the 
 leaf of the coca plant is a stimulant scarcely less to be 
 dreaded than opium. The juice of a species of asclepias 
 produces the intoxicant soma, used once by the Brahmins, 
 not only as a drink, but also in sacrificial and religious 
 ceremonies. Many different flavored liquors made of 
 palm, cocoanuts, sugar, pepper, honey, spices, etc., were 
 used bv native Hindoos, and as intoxicants have been em- 
 
Drunkenness. — The Drinks of Man 169 
 
 ployed from the earliest days in India. The Vedic people 
 were fearfully dissipated, and page after page of that 
 wonderful sacred book, the Rigveda is devoted to the 
 habit of drunkenness. The worst classes of drunkards of 
 India used Indian hemp to make bhang, or combined the 
 deadly narcotic stramonium with arrack, a native beer, 
 to produce a poisonous intoxicant. In that early day the 
 inhabitants of India and China were fearfully depraved 
 drunkards, and but for the reforms instituted by their 
 wise men must have perished as a people. Parahaoma,. 
 or 'homa,' is an intoxicant made from a lost plant that is 
 described as having yellow blossoms, used by the ancient 
 dissolute Persians from the day of Zoroaster. Cannabis 
 sativa produces an intoxicant that in Turkeyis known as 
 hadschy. in Arabia and India as hashish, and to the Hot- 
 tentots as dacha, and serves as a drunkard's food in other 
 lands. The fruit of the juniper produces gin, and the fer- 
 mented juice of the grape, or malt liquors, in all civilized 
 countries are the favorite intoxicants, their origin being 
 lost in antiquity. Other substances, such as palm, apples, 
 dates, and pomegranates, have also been universally em- 
 ployed as drink producers. 
 
 "Go where you will, man's tendency seems to be toward 
 the bowl that inebriates, and yet it is not the use but the 
 abuse of intoxicants that man has to dread. Could he be 
 temperate, exhilarants would befriend." 
 
 "But here," I replied, "in this underground land, where 
 food is free, and existence possible without an efifort, this 
 shameful vice has no existence. Here there is no in- 
 centive to intemperance, and even though man were pres- 
 ent with his inherent passion for drink, he could not find 
 means to gratify his appetite." 
 
 "Ah," my guide replied, "that is an error. Why should 
 this part of the earth prove an exception to the general 
 rule? Nature always supplies the means, and man's in- 
 stinct teaches him how to prepare an intoxicant. So long 
 as man is human his passions will rule. If you should 
 prove unequal to the task you have undertaken, if you 
 
170 Etidorhpa 
 
 shrink from your journey, and turn back, the chances are 
 you will fail to reach the surface of the earth. You will 
 surely stop in the chamber which we now approach, and 
 which I have now prepared you to enter, and will then 
 become one of a band of earth drunkards ; having all the 
 lower passions of a mortal you will yet be lost to the 
 virtues of man. In this chamber those who falter and 
 turn back stop and remain for all time, sinking until they 
 become lower in the human scale than any drunkard on 
 earth. Without any restraining influence, without a care, 
 without necessity of food or incentive to exertion, in this 
 habitation, where heat and cold are unknown, and no 
 motive for self-preservation exists, they turn their 
 thoughts toward the ruling passion of mankind and — 
 Listen ! Do you not hear them ? Listen ?" 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE drunkard's VOICE. 
 
 Then I noticed a medley of sounds seemingly rising 
 out of the depths beyond us. The noise was not such as 
 to lead me to infer that persons were speaking coherently, 
 but rather resembled a jargon such as might come from a 
 multitude of persons talking indiscriminately and aim- 
 lessly. It was a constant volley, now rising and now fall- 
 ing in intensity, as though many persons regardless of 
 one another were chanting different tunes in that peculiar 
 sing-song tone often characteristic of the drunkard. As 
 we advanced the noise became louder and more of a 
 medley, until at last we were surrounded by confusion. 
 Then a single voice rose up strong and full, and at once, 
 from about us, close to us, yes, against our very persons, 
 unearthly cries and shrieks smote my ears. I could dis- 
 tinguish words of various tongues, English, Irish, Ger- 
 man, and many unfamiliar and disjointed cries, impre- 
 cations, and maledictions. The cavern about seemed now 
 to be resonant with voices — shrieks, yells, and maniacal 
 cries commingled — and yet no form appeared. As we 
 rushed onward, for now my guide grasped my arm tightly 
 and drew me rapidly down the cavern floor, the voices 
 subsided, and at length sounded as if behind us. Now, 
 however, it seemed as though innumerable arrows, each 
 possessed of a whistle or tone of its own, were in wave- 
 like gusts shrieking by us. Coming from in front, they 
 burst in the rear. Stopping to listen, I found that a con- 
 nection could be traced between the screech of the arrow- 
 like shriek and a drunkard's distant voice. It seemed as 
 though a rocket made of an escaping voice would scream 
 past, and bursting in the cavern behind, where I stood 
 when the frightful voices were about me, would there 
 
1^2 Etidorhpa 
 
 liberate a human cry. Now and then all but a few would 
 subside, to burst out with increased violence, as if a flight 
 of rockets each with a cry of its own would rush past, 
 to be followed after their explosion in the rear by a 
 medley of maniacal cries, songs, shrieks, and groans, com- 
 mingled. It was as though a shell containing a voice that 
 escaped slowly as by pressure from an orifice were fired 
 past my ears, to explode and liberate the voice within my 
 hearing. The dreadful utterance was not an echo, was 
 not hallucination, it was real. 
 
 I stopped and looked at my guide in amazement. He 
 explained : "Did you not sometime back experience that 
 your own voice was then thrown from your body?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 "These crazed persons or rather depraved experiences 
 are shouting in the cavern beyond," he said. "They are 
 in front ; their voices pass us to burst into expression in 
 the rear." 
 
 Then, even as he spoke, from a fungus stalk near us 
 a hideous creature unfolded itself, and shambled to my 
 side. It had the frame of a man, and yet it moved like a 
 serpent, writhing toward me. I stepped back in horror, 
 but the tall, ungainly creature reached out an arm and 
 grasped me tightly. Leaning over, he placed his ugly 
 mouth close to my ear, and moaned : "Back, back, go thou 
 back." 
 
 I made no reply, being horror-stricken. 
 
 "Back, I say, back to earth, or" — 
 
 He hesitated, and still possessed of fear, and unable to 
 reply, I was silent. 
 
 "Then go on," he said, "on to your destiny, unhappy 
 man," and slinking back to the fungus whence he arose, 
 he disappeared from sight. 
 
 "Come," said my guide, "let us pass the Drunkard's 
 Den. This was but a straggler ; nerve yourself, summon 
 all the strength at your command, for his companions 
 will soon surround us." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE DRUNKARD S DEN, 
 
 As we progressed the voices in our rear became more 
 faint, and yet the whistHng volleys of screeching voice 
 bombs passed us as before. 1 shuddered in anticipation 
 of the sight that was surely to meet our gaze, and could 
 not but tremble for fear. Then I stopped and recoiled, 
 for at my very feet I beheld a huge, living human head. It 
 rested on the solid rock, and had I not stopped suddenly 
 when I did, I should have kicked it at the next leap. The 
 €yes of the monster were fixed in supplication on my face ; 
 the great brow indicated intelligence, the finely cut mouth 
 denoted refinement, the well-modelled head denoted brain, 
 but the whole constituted a monster. The mouth opened, 
 and a whizzing, arrow voice swept past, I heard the 
 screech of the passing voice shaft, and yet the bursting 
 cry was lost in the distance. 
 
 "What is this?" I gasped. 
 
 "The fate of a drunkard," my guide replied. "This 
 was once an intelligent man, but now he has lost his body, 
 and enslaved his soul, in the den of drink beyond us, and 
 has been brought here by his comrades, who thus rid 
 themselves of his presence. Here he must rest eternally. 
 He cannot move, he has but one desire, drink, and that 
 craving, deeper than life, cannot be satiated." 
 
 "But he desires to speak ; speak lower, man, or head of 
 man, if you wish me to know your wants," I said, and 
 leaned toward him. 
 
 Then the monster whispered, and I caught the words : 
 
 "Back, back, go thou back !" 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 "Back I say, back to earth or" — 
 
 Still I remained silent. 
 
174 Etidorhpa 
 
 ''Then go on," he said ; "on to your destiny, unhappy 
 man." 
 
 "This is horrible," I muttered. 
 
 "Come," said the guide, "let us proceed." 
 
 And we moved onward. 
 
 "Now I perceived many such heads about us, all resting 
 upright on the stony floor. Some were silent, others 
 were shouting, others still were whispering and endeavor- 
 ing to attract my attention. As we hurried on I saw 
 more and yet more of these abnormal creatures. Some 
 were in rows, resting against each other, leaving barely 
 room for us to pass, but at last, much to my relief, we 
 left them behind us. 
 
 But I found that I had no cause for congratulation, 
 when I felt myself clutched by a powerful hand — a hand 
 as large as that of a man fifty feet in height. I looked 
 about expecting to see a gigantic being, but instead beheld 
 a shrunken pigmy. The whole man seemed but a single 
 hand — a Brobdingnag hand affixed to the body of a Lil- 
 liputian. 
 
 "Do not struggle," said the guide; "listen to what he 
 wishes to impart." 
 
 I leaned over, placing my ear close to the mouth of the 
 monstrosity. 
 
 "Back, back, go thou back," it whispered. 
 
 "What have I to fear?" I asked. 
 
 "Back, I say, back to earth, or" — 
 
 "Or what?" I said. 
 
 "Then go on ; on to your destiny, unhappy man," he 
 answered, and the hand loosed its grasp. 
 
 My guide drew me onward. 
 
 Then, from about us, huge hands arose ; on all sides 
 they waved in the air ; some were closed and were shaken 
 as clenched fists, others moved aimlessly with spread 
 fingers, others still pointed to the passage we had. 
 traversed, and in a confusion of whispers I heard from 
 the pigmy figures a babel of cries, "Back, back, go thou, 
 back." Again I hesitated, the strain upon my nerves was. 
 
KACH KIXOKK POIXTKi, I.,\VAK1>S THK ..PKN WAV IN FROM. 
 
 HAMU.Ni. .Mi: .)M. OK lllK I1AL\KS, 
 
 ' DRINK '.' 
 
 HK Sl'OKK THK SIXCJI.K WORD 
 
The Drunkard's Den 175 
 
 becoming unbearable ; I glanced backward and saw a 
 swarm of misshaped diminutive forms, each holding up a 
 monstrous arm and hand. The passage behind us was 
 closed against retreat. Every form possessed but one 
 hand, the other and the entire body seemingly had been 
 drawn into this abnormal member. While I thus medi- 
 tated, momentarily, as by a single thought each hand 
 closed, excepting the index finger, and in unison each 
 finger pointed toward the open way in front, and like 
 shafts from a thousand bows I felt the voices whiz past 
 me, and then from the rear came the reverberation as a 
 complex echo, "Then go on ; on to your destiny, unhappy 
 man." 
 
 Instinctively I sprang forward, and had it not been for 
 the restraining hand of my guide would have rushed 
 wildly into passages that might have ended my misery, 
 for God only knows what those unseen corridors con- 
 tained. I was aware of that which lay behind, and was 
 only intent on escaping from the horrid figures already 
 passed. 
 
 "Hold," whispered the guide ; "as you value your life, 
 stop." 
 
 And then exerting a power that I could not withstand, 
 he held me a struggling prisoner. 
 
 "Listen," he said, "have you not observed that these 
 creatures do not seek to harm you ? Have not all of them 
 spoken kindly, have any offered violence?" 
 
 "No," I replied, "but they are horrible." 
 
 "That they too realize ; but fearing that you will prove 
 to be as weak as they have been, and will become as they 
 are now, they warn you back. However, I say to you, if 
 you have courage sufBcient, you need have no fear. 
 Come, rely on me, and do not be surprised at anything 
 that appears." 
 
 Again we went forward. I realized now my utter help- 
 lessness. I became indifferent again ; I could neither re- 
 trace my footsteps alone, nor guide them forward in the 
 path I was to pursue. Relying submissively on my guide, 
 
1 76 Etidorhpa 
 
 as stoical as he appeared to be, I moved onward to new 
 scenes. 
 
 We came to a great chamber, which, as we halted on its 
 edge, seemed to be a prodigious amphitheatre. In its cen- 
 tre a rostrum-like stone of a hundred feet in diameter, 
 flat and circular on the top, reared itself about twelve 
 feet above the floor, and to the base of this rostrum 
 the floor of the room sloped evenly. The amphitheatre 
 was fully a thousand feet in diameter, of great height, and 
 the floor was literally alive with grotesque beings. 
 Imagination could not depict an abnormal human form 
 that did not exhibit itself to my startled gaze. One 
 peculiarity incident to all now presented itself to my 
 mind ; each abnormal part seemed to be created at the ex- 
 pense of the remainder of the body. Thus, to my right 
 I beheld a single leg, fully twelve feet in height, sur- 
 mounted by a puny human form, which on this one leg 
 hopped ludicrously away. I saw close behind this huge 
 limb a great ear attached to a small head and body ; then 
 a nose so large that the figure to which it was attached 
 was forced to hold the face upward, in order to prevent 
 the misshaped organ from rubbing on the stony floor. 
 Here a gigantic forehead rested on a shrunken face and 
 body, and there a pair of enormous feet were walking, 
 seemingly attached to the body of a child, and yet the 
 face was that of a man. If an artist were to attempt 
 to create as many revolting or fantastic figures as pos- 
 sible, each with some member out of proportion to the 
 rest of the body, he could not add one form to those upon 
 this floor. And yet, I again observed that each exag- 
 gerated organ seemed to have drawn itself into existence 
 by absorbing the remainder of the body. We stood on 
 the edge of this great room, and I pondered over the scene 
 before my eyes. At length my guide broke the silence: 
 
 "You must cross this floor ; no other passage is known. 
 Mark well my words, heed my advice. 
 
 'This is the Drunkards' Den. These men are lost to 
 themselves and to the world. Every member of this as- 
 
The Drunkard's Den i yj 
 
 sembly once passed onward as you are now doing, in 
 charge of a guide. They failed by reason of lack of 
 courage to reach the goal to which you aspire, and re- 
 treating, reached this chamber, to become victims to the 
 drink habit. Some of these creatures have been here for 
 ages, others only for a short period." 
 
 "Why are they so distorted?" I asked. 
 
 "Because matter is now only partly subservient to will," 
 he replied. "The intellect and mind of a drunkard on 
 surface earth becomes abnormal by the influence of an in- 
 toxicant, but his real form is unseen, although evidently 
 misshapen and partly subject to the perception of a few 
 only of his fellow-men. Could you see the inner form 
 of an earth-surface drunkard, you would perceive as great 
 a mental monstrosity as is any physical monster now be- 
 fore you, and of the two the physically abnormal creature 
 is really the least objectionable. Could you see the mind 
 configurations of an assembly of surface earth topers, you 
 would perceive a class of beings as much distorted men- 
 tally as are these physically. A drunkard is a monstrosity. 
 On surface earth the mind becomes abnormal ; here the 
 body suffers." 
 
 "Why is it," I asked, "that parts of these creatures 
 shrink away as some special organ increases?" 
 
 "Because the abnormal member can grow only by ab- 
 stracting its substance from the other portions of the 
 body. An increasing arm enlarges itself by drawing its 
 strength from the other parts, hence the body withers as 
 the hand enlarges, and in turn the hand shrinks when the 
 leg increases in size. The substance of the individual re- 
 mains about the same. 
 
 "Men on earth judge of men not by what they are, but 
 by what they seem to be. The physical form is apparent 
 to the sense of sight, the real man is unseen. However, as 
 the boot that encloses a foot cannot altogether hide the 
 form of the foot within it, so the body that encloses the 
 life entity cannot but exhibit here and there the character 
 of the dominating spirit within. Thus a man's features 
 
178 Etidorhpa 
 
 may grow to indicate the nature of the enclosed spirit, for 
 the controlling character of that spirit will gradually im- 
 press itself on the material part of man. Even on surface 
 earth, where the matter side of man dominates, a vicious 
 spirit will produce a villainous countenance, a mediocre 
 mind a vapid face, and an amorous soul will even pro- 
 ject the anterior part of the skull. 
 
 "Carry the same law to this location, and it will be seen 
 that as mind, or spirit, is here the master, and matter is 
 the slave, the same rule should, under natural law, tend 
 to produce the abnormal figures you now perceive. 
 Hence the part of a man's spirit that is endowed most 
 highly sways the corresponding part of his physical body 
 at the expense of the remainder. Gradually the form is 
 altered under the relaxing influence of this fearful intra- 
 earth intoxicant, and eventually but one conspicuous 
 organ remains to tell the story of the symmetrical man 
 who formerly existed. Then, when he is no longer ca- 
 pable of self-motion, the comrades carry the drunkard's 
 fate, which is the abnormal being you have seen, into the 
 selected corridor, and deposit it among others of its kind, 
 as in turn the bearers are destined sometime to be carried 
 by others. We reached this cavern through a corridor 
 in which heads and arms were abnormal, but in others 
 may be found great feet, great legs, or other portions of 
 self-abused man. 
 
 "I should tell you, furthermore, that on surface earth 
 a drunkard is not less abnormal than these creatures ; but 
 men cannot see the form of the drunkard's spirit. Could 
 they perceive the ima^e of the drunkard's real man life, 
 that which corresponds to these material parts, it would 
 appear not less distorted and hideous. The soul of a 
 mortal protrudes from the visible body as down expands 
 from a thistle seed, but it is invisible. Drink, I say, 
 drives the spirit of an earth-surface drunkard to un- 
 natural forms, not less grotesque than these physical dis- 
 tortions. Could you see the real drunkard on surface 
 earth he would be largely outside the body shell, and 
 
The Drunkard's Den 179 
 
 hideous in the extreme. As a rule, the spirit of an earth- 
 surface drunkard dominates only the nose and face. But 
 if mortal man could be suddenly gifted with the sense of 
 mind-sight, he would find himself surrounded by persons 
 as misshapen as any delirious imagination can conjure. 
 Luckily for humanity this scene is as yet withheld from 
 man, otherwise life would be a fearful experience, be- 
 cause man has not the power to resist the abuse of drink." 
 
 "Tell me," I said, "how long will these misshapen 
 beings rest in these caverns?" 
 
 "They have been here for ages," replied the guide ; 
 "they are doomed to remain for ages yet." 
 
 ''You have intimated that if my courage fails I shall re- 
 turn to this cavern and become as they are. Now that 
 you have warned me of my doom, do you imagine that 
 anything, even sudden death, can swerve me from my 
 journey? Death is surely preferable to such an existence 
 as this." 
 
 "Do not be so confident. Every individual before you 
 has had the same opportunity, and has been warned as 
 you have been. They could not undergo the test to which 
 they were subjected, and you may fail. Besides, on sur- 
 face earth are not men constantly confronted with the 
 doom of the drunkard, and do they not, in the face of this 
 reality, turn back and seek his caverns? The journey of 
 life is not so fearful that they should become drunkards 
 to shrink from its responsibilities. You have reached this 
 point in safety. You have passed the sentinels without, 
 and will soon be accosted by the band before us. Listen 
 well now to my advice. A drunkard always seeks to gain 
 companions, to draw others down to his own level, and 
 you will be tried as never have you been before. Taste 
 not their liquor by whatever form or creature presented. 
 They have no power to harm him who has courage to re- 
 sist. If they entreat you, refuse ; if they threaten, refuse ; 
 if they offer inducements, refuse to drink. Let your 
 answer be No, and have no fear. If your strength fail 
 you, mark well my" — 
 
i8o Etidorhpa 
 
 Before he could complete his .sentence I felt a pres- 
 sure, as of a great wind, and suddenly found myself 
 seized in an irresistible embrace, and then, helpless as a 
 feather, was swept out into the cavern of the drunkards. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIL 
 
 AMONG THE DRUNKARDS. 
 
 I REMEMBER once to havc stood on the edge of Niag- 
 ara's great whirlpool, but not more fearful did its seeth- 
 ing waters then seem than did the semi-human whirl into 
 which I had now been plunged. Whether my guide had 
 been aware of the coming move that separated us I never 
 knew, but, as his words were interrupted, I infer that he 
 was not altogether ready to part from my company. Be 
 this as it may, he disappeared from sight, and, as by a 
 concerted move, the cries of the drunkards subsided in- 
 stantly. I found myself borne high in the air, perched on 
 a huge hand that was carried by its semi-human 
 comrades. It seemed as though the contents of that vast 
 hall had been suddenly thrown beneath me, for, as I 
 looked about, I saw all around a sea of human fragments, 
 living, moving parts of men. Round and round that hall 
 we circled as an eddy whirls in a rock-bound basin, and 
 not less silently than does the water of an eddy. Then I 
 perceived that the disjointed mass of humanity moved as 
 a spiral, in unison, throbbing like a vitalized stream, bear- 
 ing me submissively on its surface. Gradually the dis- 
 tance between myself and the centre stone lessened, and 
 then I found that, as if carried in the groove of a gigantic 
 living spiral, I was being swept toward the stone platform 
 in the centre of the room. There was method in the 
 movements of the drunkards, although I could not 
 analyze the intricacies of their complex reel. 
 
 Finally I was borne to the centre stone, and by a sud- 
 den toss of the hand, in the palm of which I was seated, I 
 was thrown upon the raised platform. Then in unison the 
 troop swung around the stone, and I found myself gazing 
 on a mass of vitalized fragments of humanity. Quickly 
 
1 82 Etidorhpa 
 
 a figure sprung upon the platform, and in him I discerned 
 a seemingly perfect man. He came to my side and 
 grasped my hand as if he were a friend. 
 
 "Do not fear," he said ; "concede to our request, and 
 you will not be harmed." 
 
 "What do you desire?" I asked. 
 
 He pointed to the centre of the stone, and I saw thereon 
 many gigantic, inverted fungus bowls. The gills of some 
 had been crushed to a pulp, and had saturated themselves 
 with liquid which, perhaps by a species of fermentation, 
 had undergone a structural change; others were as yet 
 intact ; about others still were men intently cutting the 
 gills into fragments and breaking the fruit preparatory to 
 further manipulation. 
 
 "You are to drink with us," he replied. 
 
 "No," I said ; "I will not drink." 
 
 "Then you must die ; to refuse to drink with us is to in- 
 vite death." 
 
 "So mote it be; I will not drink." 
 
 We stood facing each other, apparently both meditat- 
 ing on the situation. 
 
 I remember to have been surprised, not that the man 
 before me had been able to spring from the floor to the 
 table rock on which I stood, but that so fair a personage 
 could have been a companion of the monstrosities about 
 me. He was a perfect type of manhood, and was ex- 
 quisitely clothed in a loose, flowing robe that revealed 
 and heightened the beauty of his symmetrical form. His 
 face was fair, yet softly tinted with rich, fresh color ; his 
 hair and beard were neatly trimmed ; his manner was 
 polished, and his countenance frank and attractive. The 
 contrast between the preternatural shapes from among 
 whom he sprung and himself was as between a demon 
 and an angel. I marvelled that I had not perceived him 
 before, for such a one should have been conspicuous be- 
 cause so fair ; but I reflected that it was quite natural that 
 among the thousands of grotesque persons about me, one 
 attractive form should have escaped notice. Presently he 
 
Among the Drunkards 183 
 
 spoke again, seemingly having repented of his display of 
 temper. 
 
 "I am a friend," he said ; "a. deliverer. I will serve you 
 as I have others before you. Lean on me, listen to my 
 story, accept my proffered friendship." 
 
 Then he continued : "When you have rested, I will 
 guide you in safety back to upper earth, and restore you 
 to your friends." 
 
 I could not resist his pleasing promise. I suddenly and 
 unaccountably believed in his sincerity. He impressed 
 me with confidence in his truthfulness, yes, against my 
 better judgment, convinced me that he must be a friend, a 
 savior. Grasping him by the hand, I thanked him for his 
 interest in a disconsolate wanderer, and assured him of 
 my confidence. 
 
 "I am in your hands," I said; "I will obey you im- 
 plicitly. I thank you, my deliverer ; lead me back to sur- 
 face earth and receive the gratitude of a despairing 
 mortal." 
 
 "This I will surely do," he said ; "rest your case in my 
 hands, do not concern yourself in the least about your 
 future. Before acquiescing in your desire, however, I 
 will explain part of the experiences through which you 
 have recently passed. You have been in the control of an 
 evil spirit, and have been deceived. The grotesque figures, 
 the abnormal beings about you, exist only in your dis- 
 ordered imagination. They are not real. These persons 
 are happy and free from care or pain. They live in bliss 
 inexpressible. They have a life within a life, and the out- 
 ward expression that you have perceived is as the uncouth 
 hide and figure that incloses the calm, peaceful eye of a 
 toad. Look at their eyes, not at their seemingly distorted 
 forms." 
 
 I turned to the throng and beheld a multitude of up- 
 turned faces mildly beaming upon me. As I glanced 
 from eye to eye of each countenance, the repulsive figure 
 disappeared from my view, and a sweet expression of 
 innocence was all that was disclosed to me. I realized that 
 
;84 Etidorhpa 
 
 I had judged by the outer garment. I had wronged these 
 fellow-beings. A sense of remorse came over me, a desire 
 to atone for my short-sightedness. 
 
 "What can I offer as a retribution?" I asked. "I have 
 wrongly judged these people." 
 
 "Listen," was the reply. "These serene intelligences 
 are happy. They are as a band of brothers. They seek 
 to do you a kindness, to save you from disaster. One 
 hour of experience such as they enjoy is worth a hundred 
 years of such pleasures as you have known. This de- 
 iicious favor, an hour of bliss, they freely offer you, and 
 after you have partaken of a touch of their exquisite joy, 
 I will conduct you back to earth's surface whenever you 
 desire to leave us." He emphasized the word, desire. 
 
 "I am ready," I replied ; "give me this promised de- 
 light." 
 
 The genial allurer turned to the table rock behind us, 
 and continued : 
 
 "In these fungus bowls we foment the extract of life. 
 The precious cordial is as a union of the spirits that un- 
 derlie joy, peace, tranquillity, happiness, and delight. 
 Could man abstract from ecstasy the thing that under- 
 lies the sense which gives that word a meaning, his product 
 would not approach the power of the potent liquids in 
 these vessels." 
 
 "Of what are they composed?" I asked. 
 
 "Of derivatives of the rarest species of the fungus 
 family," he answered. "They are made by formulae that 
 are the result of thousands of years of experimentation. 
 Come, let us not delay longer the hour of bliss." 
 
 Taking me by the hand, my graceful comrade led me 
 to the nearest bowl. Then on closer view I perceived that 
 its contents were of a deep green color, and in active com- 
 motion, and although no vapor was apparent, a delightful 
 sensation impressed my faculties. I am not sure that I 
 inhaled at all — the feeling was one of penetration, of sub- 
 tile, magic absorption. My companion took a tiny shell 
 
Among the Drunkards 1 8 5, 
 
 which he dipped into the strange cauldron. Holding the 
 cup before me, he spoke the one word, "Drink." 
 
 Ready to acquiesce, forgetful of the warning I had re- 
 ceived, I grasped the cup, and raised it to my lips, and as 
 I did so chanced to glance at my tempter's face, and saw 
 not the supposed friend I had formerly observed, but, as 
 through a mask fair in outline, the countenance of an 
 exulting demon, regarding me with a sardonic grin. In 
 an instant he had changed from man to devil. 
 
 I dashed the cup upon the rock. "No; I will not 
 drink,'' I shouted. 
 
 Instantly the cavern rung with cries of rage. A thou- 
 sand voices joined as by accord, and simultaneously the 
 throng of fragments of men began again to reyolve. The 
 mysterious spiral seemed to unwind, like unto that of 
 an uncoiling serpent bisected lengthwise, the two halves 
 of the body seeming to slide against each other. 
 Gradually that part of the cavern near the stone on which 
 I stood became clear of its occupants, and at last I per- 
 ceived that the throng had receded to the outer edge. 
 Then the encircling side walls of the amphitheatre became 
 visible, and as water sinks into sand, the medley of frag- 
 ments of humanity disappeared from view. 
 
 I turned to my companion ; he, too, had vanished. I 
 glanced towards the liquor cauldrons ; the stone was bare. 
 I alone occupied the gigantic hall. No trace remained tO' 
 tell of the throng that a short time previously had sur- 
 rounded and mocked me. 
 
 Desolate, distracted, I threw myself upon the stone,, 
 and cursed my miserable self. "Come back," I cried,, 
 "come back. 1 will drink, drink, drink." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 FURTHER TEMPTATION. ETIDORHPA. 
 
 Then, as my voice reverberated from outer recesses, 
 I caught a sound as of music in the distance. I raised my 
 head and listened — yes, surely there was music. The 
 melody became clearly distinct, and soon my senses were 
 aware that both vocal and instrumental music were com- 
 bined. The airs which came floating were sweet, simple 
 and beautiful. The voices and accompanying strains ap- 
 proached, but I could distinguish no words. By and by, 
 from the corridors of the cavern, troops of bright female 
 forms floated into view. They were clad in robes rang- 
 ing from pure white to every richest hue, contrasting 
 strangely, and in the distance their rainbow brilliancy 
 made a gorgeous spectacle. Some were fantastically at- 
 tired in short gowns, such as I imagine were worn by the 
 dancing girls in sacred history, others had kirtles of a 
 single bright color, others of many shades intermingled, 
 while others still were dressed in gauze-like fabrics of 
 pure white. 
 
 As they filed into the cavern, and approached me, they 
 formed into platoons, or into companies, and then, as dis- 
 solving views come and go, they presented first one and 
 then another figure. Sometimes they would stretch in 
 great circling lines around the hall, again they would 
 form into squares, and again into geometrical figures of 
 all shades and forms, but I observed that with every 
 change they drew nearer to the stone on which I rested. 
 
 They were now so near that their features could be 
 distinguished, never before had I seen such loveliness in 
 human mould. Every face was as perfect as a master's 
 picture of the Madonna, and yet no two seemed to possess 
 the same type of beauty. Some were of dark complexion 
 
Further Temptation 187 
 
 with glossy, raven hair, others were fair with hair rang- 
 ing from Hght brown to golden. The style of head dress, 
 as a rule, was of the simplest description. A tinted rib- 
 bon, or twisted cord, over the head, bound their hair with 
 becoming grace, and their silken locks were either plaited 
 into braids, curled into ringlets, or hung loosely, flowing 
 in wavelets about their shoulders. Some held curious 
 musical instruments, others beautiful wands, and al- 
 together they produced a scenic effect of rare beauty that 
 the most extravagant dream of fairyland could not sur- 
 pass. Thus it was that I became again the centre of a 
 throng, not of repulsive monsters, but of marvellously 
 lovely beings. They were as different from those preced- 
 ing as darkness is from daylight. 
 
 Could any man from the data of my past experiences 
 have predicted such a scene? Never before had the 
 semblance of a woman appeared, never before had there 
 been an intimation that the gentle sex existed in these 
 silent chambers. Now, from the grotesque figures and 
 horrible cries of the former occupants of this same cavern, 
 the scene had changed to a conception of the beautiful and 
 artistic, such as a poetic spirit might evolve in an extrav- 
 agant dream of higher fairyland. I glanced above ; the 
 great hall was clothed in brilliant colors, the bare rocks 
 had disappeared, the dome of that vast arch, reaching to 
 an immeasurable height, was decorated in all the colors 
 of the rainbow. Flags and streamers fluttered in breezes 
 that also moved the garments of the angelic throng about 
 me, but which I could not sense ; profiles of enchanting 
 faces pervaded the glimmering space beyond ; I alone was 
 but an onlooker, not a participant of the joys about me. 
 
 The movements of the seraph-like figures continued, 
 innumerable forms and figures followed figures and 
 forms innumerable, while music indescribable blended 
 with the poetry of motion. I was rapt, the past disap- 
 peared, my former mind was blotted from existence, the 
 world vanished, and I became a thrill of joy, a sensation 
 of absolute delight. 
 
1 88 Etidorhpa 
 
 The band of spirits or fairy forms reached the rock at 
 my feet, but I did not know how long a time they con- 
 sumed in doing this ; it may have been a second, and it 
 may have been an eternity. Neither did I care. A single 
 moment of existence such as I experienced seemed worth 
 an age of any other pleasure. 
 
 Circling about me, these ethereal creatures paused from 
 their motions, and, as the music ceased, I stood above 
 them, and yet in their midst, and gazing out into illimi- 
 table distance which was not less beautiful in the expanse 
 than was the adjacent part. The cavern had altogether 
 disappeared, and in the depths about me as far as the eye 
 could reach, seemingly into the broad expanse of heaven, 
 I saw the exquisite forms that I have attempted to de- 
 scribe. 
 
 Then a single band from the throng lightly sprung 
 upon the stony terrace where I stood, and sung and 
 danced before me. Every motion was perfect as 
 imagination could depict, every sound was a concentrated 
 extract of melody. This band retired to be replaced by 
 another, which in turn gave way to another, and still an- 
 other, until, as in space we have no standard of com- 
 parison, time vanished, and numbers ceased to be 
 numbers. 
 
 No two of the band of dancers were clothed alike, no 
 two songs were similar, though all were inexpressibly en- 
 chanting. The first group seemed perfect, and yet the 
 second was more entrancing, while each succeeding band 
 sung sweeter songs, were more beautiful, and richer in 
 dress than those preceding. I became enveloped in the 
 aesthetic atmosphere, my spirit seemed to be loosened 
 from the body, it was apparently upon the point of escap- 
 ing from its mortal frame ; suddenly in the very acme of 
 my delight the music ceased, the figures about became 
 passive, and every form, standing upright and graceful, 
 gazed upon my face, and as 1 looked at the radiant 
 creatures, each successive face, in turn, seemed to grow 
 
Further Temptation 189 
 
 more beautiful, each form more exquisite than those 
 about. 
 
 Then, in the distance, I observed the phalanx divide, 
 forming into two divisions, separated by a broad aisle, 
 stretching from my feet to the limit of space without, and 
 down this aisle I observed a single figure advancing 
 toward me. 
 
 As she approached, the phalanx closed in behind her, 
 and when at last she reached the stone on which I stood, 
 she stepped, or was wafted to my side, and the phalanx 
 behind moved together and was complete again. ^ 
 
 "My name is Etidorhpa. In me you behold the spirit 
 that elevates man and subdues the most violent of 
 passions. In history, so far back in the dim ages as to 
 be known now as legendary mythology, have I ruled and 
 blessed the world. Unclasp my power over man and 
 beast, and while Heaven dissolves, the charms of Para- 
 dise will perish. I know no master. The universe bows 
 to my authority. Stars and suns enamored pulsate and 
 throb in space and kiss each other in waves of light ; 
 atoms cold embrace and cling together ; structures in- 
 animate affiliate with and attract inanimate structures ; 
 bodies dead to other noble passions are not dead to love. 
 The savage beast, under my enchantment, creeps to her 
 lair, and gently purrs over her ofifspring ; even man be- 
 comes less violent, and sheathes his weapon and smothers 
 his hatred as I soothe his passions beside the loved ones 
 in the privacy of his home. 
 
 "I have been known under many titles, and have com- 
 forted many peoples. Strike my name from Time's rec- 
 ord, and the lovely daughters of Zeus and Dione would 
 disappear ; and with them would vanish the grace and 
 beauty of woman ; the sweet conception of the Froth 
 Child of the Cyprus Sea would be lost ; Venus, the God- 
 dess of Love, would have no place in song, and Love her- 
 self, the holiest conception of the poet, man's superlative 
 conception of Heaven's most precious charms, would be 
 
190 Etidorhpa 
 
 buried with the myrtle and the rose. My name is 
 Etidorhpa ; interpret it rightly, and you have what has 
 been to humanity the essence of love, the mother of all , 
 that ennobles. He who loves a wife worships me ; she 
 who in turn makes a home happy is typical of me. I am 
 Etidorhpa, the beginning and the end of earth. Behold 
 in me the antithesis of envy, the opposite of malice, the 
 enemy of sorrow, the mistress of life, the queen of im- 
 mortal bliss. 
 
 "Do you know," she continued, and her voice, soft and 
 sweet, carried with it a pleasurable sense of truthfulness 
 indescribable, "do you know that man's idea of Heaven 
 places me, Etidorhpa, on the highest throne? With the 
 charm of maiden pure, I combine the devotion of wife and 
 the holiness of mother. Take from the life of man the 
 treasures I embody, and he will be homeless, childless, 
 loveless. The thought of Heaven must in such a case be 
 as the dismal conception of a dreary platitude. A life in 
 such a Heaven, a Heaven devoid of love (and this the 
 Scriptures teach), is one of endless torment. 
 
 "Love, by whatever name the conception is designated, 
 rules the world. Divest the cold man of science of the 
 bond that binds him to his life-thought, and his work is 
 ended. Strike from the master in music the chord that 
 links his soul to the voice he breathes, and his songs will 
 be hushed. Deaden the sense of love which the artist 
 bears his art, and as the spirit that underlies his thought- 
 scenes vanishes, his touch becomes chilled, and his brush 
 inexpressive. The soldier thinks of his home and coun- 
 try, and without a murmur sheds his life blood. 
 
 "And yet there are debasing phases of love, for as love 
 of country builds a nation, so love of pillage may destroy 
 it. Love of the holy and the beautiful stands in human 
 life opposed to love of the debasing and vicious, and I, 
 Etidorhpa, am typical of the highest love of man. As the 
 same force binds together the entities of the rose and 
 the violet as well as those of noxious drugs, so the same 
 soul conception may serve the love of good or the love 
 
KTIDOKHI'A. 
 
Further Temptation 191 
 
 of evil. Love may guide a tyrant or actuate a saint, may 
 make man torture his fellow or strive to ease his pain. 
 
 "Thus man's propensity to serve his holy or his evil 
 passion may each be called a degree in love, and in the 
 serving of that passion the love of one heart may express 
 itself as the antithesis of love in another. As bitter is to 
 some men's taste more pleasant than sweet, and sour is 
 yet more grateful to others, so one man may love the 
 beautiful, another delight in the grotesque, and a third 
 may love to see his neighbor suffer. Amid these, the 
 phase of love that ennobles brings the greatest degree of 
 pleasure and comfort to mankind, but yet the love that 
 degrades is love nevertheless, by whatever name the ex- 
 pression of the passion may be called. Love rules the 
 world, and typical of man's intensest, holiest love, I, 
 Etidorhpa, stand the Soul of Love Supreme." She hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "I have already said, and in saying this have told the 
 truth, I come from beyond the empty shell of a material- 
 istic gold and silver conception of Heaven. Go with me, 
 and in my home you will find man's soul devotion, regard- 
 less of material surroundings. I have said, and truly, the 
 corridors of the Heaven mansion, enriched by precious 
 stones and metals fine, but destitute of my smiles and 
 graces, are deserted. The golden calf is no longer wor- 
 shipped, cobwebs cling in motionless festoons, and the 
 dust of selfish, perverted thoughts, dry and black as the 
 soot from Satan's iires settling therein, like unto the dust 
 of an antiquated sarcophagus, rest undisturbed. Place on 
 one side the Heaven of which gold-bound misers sing, 
 and on the other Etidorhpa and the treasures which come 
 with me to man and woman ( for without me neither wife, 
 child, nor father could exist), and from any other heaven 
 mankind will turn away. The noblest gift of Heaven to 
 humanity is the highest sense of love, and I,, Etidorhpa,. 
 am the soul of love." 
 
1 9 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 She ceased speaking, and as I looked at the form be- 
 -side me I forgot myself in the rapture of that gaze. 
 
 Crush the colors of the rainbow into a single hue 
 possessed of the attributes of all the others, and you have 
 less richness than rested in any of the complex colors 
 shown in the trimming of her raiment. Lighten the soft- 
 ness of eiderdown a thousand times, and yet maintain its 
 sense of substance, and you have not conceived of the 
 softness of the gauze that decked her simple, flowing gar- 
 ments. Gather the shadows cast by a troop of angels, 
 then sprinkle the resultant shade with star dust, and color 
 therewith a garment brighter than satin, softer than silk, 
 and more ethereal than light itself, and you have less 
 beauty than reposed in the modest dress that enveloped 
 her figure. Abstract the perfume from the sweetest 
 oriental grasses, and combine with it the spirit of the wild 
 rose, then add thereto the soul of ambergris and the ex- 
 tracts of the finest aromatics of the East, and you have 
 not approached the exquisite fragrance that penetrated 
 my very being at her approach. She stood before me, 
 slender, lithe, symmetrical, radiant. Her hair was more 
 beautiful than pen can depict ; it was colorless because it 
 cannot be described by colors known to mortals. Her 
 face paled the beauty of all who had preceded her. She 
 could not be a fairy, for no conception of a fairy can ap- 
 proach such loveliness ; she was not a spirit, for surely 
 material substance was a part of her form ; she was not 
 :an angel, for no abnormal, irrational wing protruded 
 from her shoulder to blemish her seraphic figure. 
 
 "No," I said musingly ; "she is a creature of other 
 climes; the Scriptures tell us of no such being; she is 
 neither human nor angelic, but" — 
 
 "Rut what?" she asked. 
 
 "I do not know," I answered. 
 
 "Then I will tell you," she replied. "Yes ; I will tell 
 you of myself and of my companions. I will show you 
 ■our home, carrving vou through the shadows of Heaven 
 
Further Temptation 193 
 
 to exhibit that fair land, for Heaven moulders without 
 Etidorhpa and casts a shadow. See," she said, as with 
 her dainty fingers she removed from her garment a frag- 
 ment of transparent film that I had not previously ob- 
 served ; "see, this is a cobweb that clung to my skirt, as, 
 on my way to meet you, I passed through the dismal cor- 
 ridors of the materialists' loveless heaven." 
 
 She dropped it on the floor, and I stooped to pick it up, 
 but vainly — my fingers passed through it as through a 
 mist. 
 
 "You must be an angel," I stammered. 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 "Come," she said, "do not consume your time with 
 thoughts of materialistic heaven ; come with me to that 
 brighter land beyond, and in those indescribable scenes 
 we, you and I, will wander together forever." 
 
 She held out her hand ; I hesitatingly touched it, and 
 then raised it to my lips. She made no resistance. 
 
 I dropped upon my knees. "Are you to be mine?" I 
 cried. "Mine forever?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered ; "if you will it, for he who loves 
 will be loved in turn." 
 
 "I will go," I said ; "I give myself to you, be you what 
 you may, be your home where it may, I give up the earth 
 behind me, and the hope of Heaven before me ; the here 
 and the hereafter I will sacrifice. Let us hasten," I said, 
 for she made no movement. 
 
 She shook her head. "You must^yet be tempted as never 
 before, and you must resist the tempter. You cannot pass 
 into the land of Etidorhpa until you have suffered as only 
 the damned can suffer, until you have withstood the 
 pangs of thirst, and have experienced indescribable heat 
 and cold. Remember the warning of your former guide, 
 mark well the words of Etidorhpa : you must not yield. 
 'Twas to serve you that I came before you now, 'twas to 
 preserve you from the Drunkard's Cavern that I have 
 given you this vision of the land beyond the End of Earth, 
 where, if you will serve yourself, we shall meet again." 
 
1 94 Etidorhpa 
 
 She held aloft two tiny cups ; I sprung to my feet and 
 grasped one of them, and as I glanced at the throng in 
 front of me, every radiant figure held aloft in the left 
 hand a similar cup. All were gazing in my face. I looked 
 at the transparent cup in my hand ; it appeared to be 
 partly filled with a green liquid. I looked at her cup and 
 saw that it contained a similar fluid. 
 
 Forgetting the warning she had so recently given, I 
 raised the cup to my lips, and just before touching it 
 glanced again at her face. The fair creature stood with 
 bowed head, her face covered with her hand ; her very 
 form and attitude spoke of sorrow and disappointment, 
 and she trembled in distress. She held one hand as 
 though to thrust back a form that seemed about to force 
 itself beyond her figure, for peering exultingly from be- 
 hind, leered the same Satanic face that met my gaze on 
 the preceding occasion, when in the presence of the troop 
 of demons I had been tempted by the perfect man. 
 
 Dashing the cup to the floor I shouted : 
 
 "No ; I will not drink." 
 
 Etidorhpa dropped upon her knees and clasped her 
 hands. The Satanic figure disappeared from sight. 
 Realizing that we had triumphed over the tempter, I also 
 fell upon my knees in thankfulness. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 MISERY. 
 
 As all the bubbles in a glass shrink and vanish when 
 the first collapses, so the troop of fairy-like forms before 
 me disintegrated and were gone. The delicate being, 
 whose hand I held, fluttered as does a mist in the first 
 gust of a sudden gale, and then dissolved into trans- 
 parency. The gayly decked amphitheatre disappeared, 
 the very earth cavern passed from existence, and I found 
 myself standing solitary and alone in a boundless desert. 
 I turned toward every point of the compass only to find 
 that no visible object appeared to break the monotony. I 
 stood upon a floor of pure white sand which stretched to 
 the horizon in gentle, wave-like undulations as if the swell 
 of the ocean had been caught, transformed to sand, and 
 fixed. 
 
 I bent down and scooped a handful of the sand, and 
 raised it in the palm of my hand, letting it sift back again 
 to earth; it was surely sand. I pinched my flesh and 
 pulled my hair, I tore my garments, stamped upon the 
 sand, and shouted aloud to demonstrate that I myself was 
 still myself. It was real, yes, real. I stood alone in a 
 desert of sand. Morning was dawfiing, and on one side 
 the great sun rose slowly and majestically. 
 
 "Thank God for the sun," I cried. "Thank God for the 
 light and heat of the sun." 
 
 I was again on surface earth ; once more I beheld that 
 glorious orb for the sight of which I had so often prayed 
 when I believed myself miserable in the dismal earth 
 caverns, and which I had been willing to give my very life 
 once more to behold. I fell on my knees, and raised my 
 hands in thankfulness. I blessed the rising sun, the il- 
 limitable sand, the air about me, and the blue heavens 
 
196 Etidorhpa 
 
 above. I blessed all that was before me, and again and 
 again returned thanks for my delivery from the caverns 
 beneath me. I did not think to question by what power 
 this miracle had been accomplished. I did not care to do 
 so ; had I thought of the matter at all I would not have 
 dared to question for fear the transition might prove a 
 delusion. 
 
 I turned toward the sun, and walked eastward. As the 
 day progressed and the sun rose into the heavens, I main- 
 tained my journey, aiming as best I could to keep the 
 same direction. The heat increased, and when the sun 
 I had called blessings upon reached the zenith it seemed 
 as though it would melt the marrow in my bones. The 
 sand, as white as snow and hot as lava, dazzled my eyes, 
 and I covered them with my hands. The sun shafts from 
 the sky seared me through as if a ball of white hot iron 
 were near my head. It seemed small, and yet appeared to 
 shine as through a tube directed only toward myself. 
 Vainly did I struggle to escape and get beyond its 
 boundary, but the tube seemed to follow my every motion, 
 directing the blazing shafts, and concentrating them ever 
 upon my defenceless person. I removed my outer gar- 
 ments, and tore my shirt into fibres, hoping to catch a waft 
 of breeze, and with one hand over my eyes, and the other 
 holding my coat above my head, endeavored to escape the 
 mighty flood of heat, but vainly. The fiery rays streamed 
 through the garment as mercury flows through a film of 
 gauze. They penetrated my flesh and vaporized my 
 blood. My hands, fingers, and arms pufifed out as a 
 bladder of air expands under the influence of heat. My 
 face swelled to twice, thrice its normal size, and at last 
 my eyes were closed, for my cheeks and eyebrows met. 
 I rubbed my shapeless hand over my sightless face, and 
 found it as round as a ball ; the nose had become im- 
 bedded in the expanded flesh and my ears had disappeared 
 in the same manner. 
 
 I could no longer see the sun, but the vivid, piercing 
 ravs I could not evade. I do not know whether I walked 
 
Misery 197 
 
 or rolled along; I only know that I struggled to escape 
 those deadly shafts. Then I prayed for death, and in the 
 same breath begged the powers that had transferred me 
 to surface earth to carry me back again to the caverns be- 
 low. The recollection of their cool, refreshing atmos- 
 phere was as the thought of Heaven must be to a lost 
 spirit. I experienced the agony of a damned soul, and 
 now, in contradistinction to former times, considered as 
 my idea of perfect happiness the dismal earth caverns of 
 other days. I thought of the day I had stood at the mouth 
 of the Kentucky cave, and waded into the water with my 
 guide ; I recalled the refreshing coolness of the stream in 
 the darkness of that cavern when the last ray of sunshine 
 disappeared, and I cursed myself for longing then for 
 sunshine and the surface earth. Fool that man is, I 
 mentally cried, not to be contented with that which is, 
 however he may be situated and wherever he may be 
 placed. This is but a retribution, I am being cursed for 
 my discontented mind, this is hell, and in comparison with 
 this hell all else on or in earth is happiness. Then I 
 damned the sun, the earth, the very God of all, and in my 
 frenzy cursed everything that existed. I felt of my pufifed 
 limbs, and prayed that I might become lean again. I 
 asked to shrink to a skeleton, for seemingly my misery 
 came with my expanded form ; but I prayed and cursed in 
 vain. So I struggled on in agony, every moment seem- 
 ingly covering a multitude of years ; struggled along like 
 a lost soul plodding in an endless expanse of ever-increas- 
 ing, ever-concentrating hell. At last, however, the day 
 declined, the heat decreased, and as it did so my distorted 
 body gradually shrank to its normal size, my eyesight re- 
 turned, and finally I stood in that wilderness of sand 
 watching the great red sun sink into the earth, as in the 
 morning I had watched it rise. But between the sunrise 
 and the sunset there had been an eternity of suffering, 
 and then, as if released from a spell, I dropped exhausted 
 upon the sand, and seemed to sleep. I dreamed of the 
 sun, and that an angel stood before me, and asked why I 
 
198 Etidorhpa 
 
 was miserable, and in reply I pointed to the sun. "See," 
 I said, "the author of the misery of man." 
 
 Said the angel : "Were there no sun there would be no 
 men, but were there no men there would still be misery." 
 
 "Misery of what?" I asked. 
 
 "Misery of mind," replied the angel. "Misery is a 
 thing, misery is not a conception — pain is real, pain is not 
 an impression. Misery and pain would still exist and 
 prey upon mind substance were there no men, for mind 
 also is real, and not a mere conception. The pain you 
 have suffered has not been the pain of matter, but the pain 
 of spirit. Matter cannot suffer. Were it matter that suf- 
 fered, the heated sand would writhe in agony. No ; it is 
 only mind and spirit that experience pain or pleasure, 
 and neither mind nor spirit can evade its destiny, even 
 if it escape from the body." 
 
 Then I awoke and saw once more the great red sun 
 rise from the sand-edge of my desolate world, and I be- 
 came aware of a new pain, for now I perceived the fact 
 that I experienced the sense of thirst. The conception of 
 the impression drew my mind to the subject, and in- 
 stantly intense thirst, the most acute of bodily sufferings, 
 possessed me. When vitalized tissue craves water, other 
 physical wants are unfelt ; when man parches to death, all 
 other methods of torture are disregarded. I thought no 
 longer of the rising sun, I remembered no more the burn- 
 ing sand of yesterday, I felt only the pain of thirst. 
 
 "Water, water, water." I cried, and then in the distance, 
 as if in answer to my cry, I beheld a lake of water. 
 
 Instantly every nerve was strained, every muscle 
 stretched, and I fled over the sands toward the welcome 
 pool. 
 
 On and on I ran, and as I did so, the sun rising higher 
 and higher, again began to burn the sands beneath my 
 feet and roast the flesh upon my bones. Once more I 
 experienced that intolerable sense of pain, the pain of liv- 
 ing flesh disintegrating by fire, and now with thirst 
 gnawing at my vitals and fire drying up the residue of 
 
Misery 199 
 
 my evaporated blood, I struggled in agony toward a lake 
 that vanished before my gaze, to reappear just beyond. 
 
 This day was more horrible than the preceding, and yet 
 it was the reverse so far as the action of the sun on my 
 flesh was concerned. My prayer of yesterday had been 
 fearfully answered, and the curses of the day preceding 
 were being visited upon my very self. I had prayed to 
 become lean, and instead of the former pufifed tissue and 
 expanded flesh, my body now contracted as does beef 
 when dried. The tightening skin squeezed upon the 
 solidifying flesh, and as the moisture evaporated, it left 
 a shrivelled integument, contracted close upon the bone. 
 My joints stood out as great protuberances, my skin 
 turned to a dark amber color, and my flesh became trans- 
 parent as does wetted horn. I saw my very vitals throb, 
 I saw the empty blood vessels, the shrivelled nerves and 
 vacant arteries of my frame. I could not close my eyes. 
 I could not shield them from the burning sun. I was a 
 mummy, yet living, a dried corpse walking over the sand, 
 dead to all save pain. I tried to fall, but could not, and I 
 felt that, while the sun was visible, I must stand upright ; 
 I could not stop, and could not stoop. Then at last the 
 malevolent sun sank beneath the horizon, and as the last 
 ray disappeared I fell upon the sand. 
 
 I did not sleep, I did not rest, I did not breathe nor live 
 a human ; I only existed as a living pain, the conception of 
 pain realized into a conscious nucleus — and so the night 
 passed. Again the sun arose, and with the light of her 
 first ray I saw near at hand a caravan, camels, men, 
 horses, a great cavalcade. They approached rapidly and 
 surrounded me. The leader of the band alighted and 
 raised me to my feet, for no longer had I the power of 
 motion. He spoke to me kindly, and strange as it may 
 seem to you, but not at all strange did it seem to me, 
 called me by name. 
 
 "We came across your tracks in the desert," he said ; 
 "we are your deliverers." 
 
 I motioned for water ; I could not speak. 
 
200 Etidorhpa 
 
 "Yes," he said, "water you shall have." 
 
 Then from one of the skins that hung across the hump 
 of a camel he filled a crystal goblet with sparkling water, 
 and held it toward me, but just before the goblet touched 
 my lips he withdrew it and said : 
 
 "I forgot to first extend the greetings of our people." 
 
 And then I noticed in his other hand a tiny glass con- 
 taining a green liquid, which he placed to my lips, pro- 
 nouncing the single word, "Drink." 
 
 I fastened my gaze upon the water, and opened my lips. 
 I smelled the aroma of the powerful narcotic liquid within 
 the glass, and hastened to obey, but glanced first at my de- 
 liverer, and in his stead saw the familiar face of the 
 Satanic figure that twice before had tempted me. In- 
 stantly, without a thought as to the consequences, without 
 a fear as to the result, I dashed the glass to the sand, and 
 my voice returning, I cried for the third time, "No; I will 
 not drink." 
 
 The troop of camels instantly disappeared, as had the 
 figures in the former scenes, the tempter resolved into 
 clear air, the sand beneath my feet became natural again, 
 and I bcame myself as I had been before passing through 
 the hideous ordeal. The fact of my deliverance from 
 the earth caverns had, I now realized, been followed by 
 temporary aberration of my mind, the torture had been a 
 hallucination, but at last I saw clearly again, the painful 
 fancy had passed, the delirium was over. 
 
 I fell upon my knees in thankfulness ; the misery 
 through which I had passed had proven to be illusory, the 
 earth caverns were beneath me, the mirage and tempta- 
 tions were not real, the horrors I had experienced were 
 imaginary — thank God for all this — and that the sand 
 was really sand. Solitary, alone, I kneeled in the barren 
 desert, from horizon to horizon desolation only sur- 
 rounded, and yet the scene of that illimitable waste, a fear- 
 ful reality, it is true, was sweet in comparison with the 
 misery of body and soul about which I had dreamed so 
 vividly. 
 
Misery 201 
 
 " 'Tis no wonder," I said to myself, "that in the 
 moment of transition from the underground caverns to 
 the sunshine above, the shock should have disturbed my 
 mental equilibrium, and in the moment of reaction I 
 should have dreamed fantastic and horrible imaginings." 
 
 A cool and refreshing breeze sprung now, from I know 
 not where ; I did not care to ask ; it was too welcome a gift 
 to question, and contrasted pleasantly with the misery of 
 my past hallucination. The sun was shining hot above me, 
 the sand was glowing, parched beneath me, and yet the 
 grateful breeze fanned my brow and refreshed my spirit. 
 
 "Thank God," I cried, "for the breeze, for the coolness 
 that it brings ; only those who have experienced the 
 silence of the cavern solitudes through which I have 
 passed, and added thereto, have sensed the horrors of the 
 more recent nightmare scenes, can appreciate the delights 
 of a gust of air." 
 
 The incongruity of surrounding conditions, as con- 
 nected with rational affairs, did not appeal at all to my 
 questioning senses, it seemed as though the cool breeze, 
 coming from out the illimitable desolation of a heated 
 waste, was natural. I arose and walked on, refreshed. 
 From out that breeze my physical self drew refreshment 
 and strength. 
 
 " 'Tis the cold," I said, "the blessed antithesis of heat, 
 that supports life. Heat enervates, cold stimulates ; heat 
 depresses, cold animates. Thank God for breezes, winds, 
 waters, cold." 
 
 I turned and faced the gladsome breeze. " 'Tis the 
 source of life, I will trace it to its orgin, I will leave the 
 accursed desert, the hateful sunshine, and seek the bliss- 
 ful regions that give birth to cool breezes." 
 
 I walked rapidly, and the breeze became more energetic 
 and cooler. With each increase of momentum on my 
 part, corresponding strength seemed to be added to the 
 breeze — both strength and coolness. 
 
 "Is not this delightful ?" I murmured ; "my God at last 
 has come to be a just God. Knowing what I wanted. He 
 
202 Etidorhpa 
 
 sent the breeze ; in answer to my prayer the cool, refresh- 
 ing breeze arose. Damn the heat," I cried aloud, as I 
 thought of the horrid day before ; "blessed be the cold," 
 and as though in answer to my cry the breeze stiffened 
 and the cold strengthened, and I again returned thanks 
 to my Creator. 
 
 With ragged coat wrapped about my form I faced the 
 breeze and strode onward toward the home of the gelid 
 wind that now dashed in gusts against my person. 
 
 Then I heard my footstep crunch, and perceived that 
 the sand was hard beneath my feet ; I stooped over to ex- 
 amine it, and found it frozen. Strange, I reflected, 
 strange that dry sand can freeze, and then I noticed, for 
 the first time, that spurts of snow surrounded me, 'twas 
 a sleety mixture upon which I trod, a crust of snow 
 and sand. A sense of dread came suddenly over me, 
 and instinctively I turned, affrighted, and ran away from 
 the wind, toward the desert behind me, back toward the 
 sun, which, cold and bleak, low in the horizon, was sink- 
 ing. The sense of dread grew upon me, and I shivered as 
 I ran. With my back toward the breeze I had blessed, I 
 now fled toward the sinking sun I had cursed. I stretched 
 out my arms in supplication toward that orb, for from 
 behind overhanging blackness spread, and about me 
 roared a fearful hurricane. Vainly. As I thought in 
 mockery the heartless sun disappeared before my gaze, 
 the hurricane surrounded me, and the wind about be- 
 came intensely cold and raved furiously. It seemed as 
 though the sun had fled from my presence, and with the 
 disappearance of that orb the outline of the earth was 
 blotted from existence. It was an awful blackness, and 
 now the universe to me was a blank. The cold strength- 
 ened and froze my body to the marrow of my bones. 
 First came the sting of frost, then the pain of cold, then 
 insensibility of flesh. My feet were benumbed, my limbs 
 motionless. I stood a statue, quiescent in the midst of the 
 roaring tempest. The earth, the sun, the heavens them- 
 selves, my very person now had disappeared. Dead to the 
 sense of pain or touch, sightless, amid a blank, only the 
 
Misery 203 
 
 noise of the raging winds was to me a reality. And as 
 the creaking frost reached my brain and congealed it, the 
 sound of the tempest ceased, and then devoid of physical 
 senses, my quickened intellect, enslaved, remained im- 
 prisoned in the frozen form it could not leave, and yet 
 could no longer control. 
 
 Reflection after reflection passed through that incar- 
 cerated thought entity, and as I meditated, the heinous 
 mistakes I had committed in the life that had passed 
 arose to torment. God had answered my supplications, 
 successively I had experienced the hollowness of earthly 
 pleasures, and had left each lesson unheeded. Had I 
 not alternately begged for and then cursed each gift of 
 God? Had I not prayed for heat, cold, light, and dark- 
 ness, and anathematized each? Had I not, when in per- 
 fect silence, prayed for sound ; in sheltered caverns, 
 prayed for winds and storms ; in the very corridors of 
 Heaven, and in the presence of Etidorhpa, had I not 
 sought for joys beyond? 
 
 Had I not found each pleasure of life a mockery, and 
 notwithstanding each bitter lesson, still pursued my head- 
 strong course, alternately blessing and cursing my Creator, 
 and then myself, until now, amid a howling waste, in 
 perfect darkness, my conscious intellect was bound to the 
 frozen, rigid semblance of a body? All about me was 
 dead and dark, all within was still and cold, only my 
 quickened intellect remained as in every corpse the self- 
 conscious intellect must remain, while the body has a 
 mortal form, for death of body is not attended by the im- 
 mediate liberation of mind. The consciousness of the 
 dead man is still acute, and he who thinks the dead are 
 mindless will realize his fearful error when, devoid of 
 motion, he lies a corpse, conscious of all that passes on 
 around him, waiting the liberation that can only come 
 by disintegration and destruction of the flesh. 
 
 So, unconscious of pain, unconscious of any physical 
 sense, I existed on and on, enthralled, age after age 
 passed and piled upon one another, for time to me un- 
 
204 Etidorhpa 
 
 changeable, was no more an entity. I now prayed for 
 change of any kind, and envied the very devils in hell 
 their pleasures, for were they not gifted with the power 
 of motion, could they not hear, and see, and realize the 
 pains they suffered? I prayed for death — death absolute, 
 death eternal. Then, at last, the darkness seemed to 
 lessen, and I saw the frozen earth beneath, the monstrous 
 crags of ice above, the raging tempest about, for I now 
 had learned by reflection to perceive by pure intellect, to 
 see by the light within. My body, solid as stone, was 
 fixed and preserved in a waste of ice. The world was 
 frozen. I perceived that the sun, and moon, and stars, 
 nearly stilled, dim and motionless, had paled in the cold 
 depths of space. The universe itself was freezing, and 
 amid the desolation only my deserted intellect remained. 
 Age after age had passed, aeons of ages had fled, nation 
 after nation had grown and perished, and in the un- 
 counted epochs behind, humanity had disappeared. Un- 
 able to free itself from the frozen body, my own intellect 
 remained entrapped, the solitary spectator of the dead 
 silence about. At last, beneath my vision, the moon dis- 
 appeared, the stars faded one by one, and then I watched 
 the sun grow dim, until at length only a milky, gauze-like 
 film remained to indicate her face, and then — vacancy. 
 I had lived the universe away. And in perfect darkness 
 the living intellect, conscious of all that had transpired in 
 the ages past, clung still enthralled to the body of the 
 frozen mortal. I thought of my record in the distant 
 past, of the temptations I had undergone, and called my- 
 self a fool, for, had I listened to the tempter, I could at 
 least have suffered, I could have had companionship even 
 though it were of the devils — in hell. I lived my life 
 over and over, times without number ; I thought of my 
 tempters, of the offered cups, and thinking, argued with 
 myself: 
 
 "No," I said ; "no, I made the promise, I have yet faith 
 in Etidorhpa, and were it to be done over again Iwould not 
 drink." 
 
Misery 205 
 
 Then, as this thought sped from me, the ice scene dis- 
 solved, the enveloped frozen form of myself faded from 
 view, the sand shrunk into nothingness, and with my 
 natural body, and in normal condition, I found myself 
 back in the earth cavern, on my knees, beside the curious 
 inverted fungus, of which fruit I had eaten in obedience 
 to my guide's directions. Before me the familiar figure 
 of my guide stood, with folded arms, and as my gaze fell 
 upon him he reached out his hand and raised me to my 
 feet. 
 
 ''Where have you been during the wretched epochs that 
 have passed since I last saw you?" I asked. 
 
 "I have been here," he replied, "and you have been 
 there." 
 
 "You lie, you villainous sorcerer," I cried ; "you lie 
 again as you have lied to me before. I followed you to 
 the edge of demon land, to the caverns of the drunkards, 
 and then you deserted me. Since last we met I have spent 
 a million, billion years of inexpressible agony, and have 
 had that agony made doubly horrible by contrast with the 
 thought, yes, the very sight and touch of Heaven. I 
 passed into a double eternity, and have experienced the 
 ecstasies of the blessed, and suffered the torments of the 
 damned, and now you dare boldly tell me that I have 
 been here, and that you have been there, since last I saw 
 you stand by this cursed fungus bowl." 
 
 "Yes," he said, taking no ofifence at my violence ; "yes, 
 neither of us has left this spot ; you have sipped of the 
 drink of an earth-damned drunkard, you have ex- 
 perienced part of the curses of intemperance, the delirium 
 of narcotics. Thousands of men on earth, in their drunken 
 hallucination, have gone through hotter hells than you 
 have seen ; your dream has not exaggerated the sufferings 
 of those who sup of the delirium of intemperance." 
 
 And then he continued : 
 
 "Let me tell you of man's conception of eternity." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 ETERNITY WITHOUT TIME. 
 
 "Man's conception of eternity is that of infinite 
 duration, continuance without beginning or end, and yet 
 everything he knows is bounded by two or more op- 
 posites. From a beginning, as he sees a form of matter, 
 that substance passes to an end." Thus spoke my guide. 
 
 Then he asked, and showed by his question that he ap- 
 preciated the nature of my recent experiences: "Do you 
 recall the instant that you left me standing by this fungus 
 bowl to start, as you imagined, with me as a companion, 
 on the journey to the cavern of the grotesque?" 
 
 "No; because I did not leave you. I sipped of the 
 liquid, and then you moved on with me from this spot ; 
 we were together, until at last we were separated on the 
 edge of the cave of drunkards." 
 
 "Listen," said he ; "I neither left you nor went with 
 you. You neither went from this spot nor came back 
 again. You neither saw nor experienced my presence 
 nor my absence ; there was no beginning to your journey." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "You ate of the narcotic fungus; you have been in- 
 toxicated." 
 
 "I have not," I retorted. "I have been through your 
 accursed caverns, and into hell beyond. I have been con- 
 sumed by eternal damnation in the journey, have ex- 
 perienced a heaven of delight, and also an eternity of 
 misery." 
 
 "Upon the contrary, the time that has passed since you 
 drank the liquid contents of that fungus fruit has only 
 been that which permitted you to fall upon your knees. 
 You swallowed the liquor when I handed you the shell 
 cup ; you dropped upon your knees, and then instantly 
 
Eternity Without Time 207 
 
 awoke. See," he said ; "in corroboration of my assertion 
 the shell of the fungus fruit at your feet is still dripping 
 with the liquid you did not drink. Time has been 
 annihilated. Under the influence of this potent earth- 
 bred narcoto-intoxicant your dream begun inside of 
 eternity; you did not pass into it." 
 
 "You say," I interrupted, "that I dropped upon my 
 knees, that I have experienced the hallucination of in- 
 toxication, that the experiences of my vision occurred 
 during the second of time that was required for me to 
 drop upon my knees." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then by your own argument you demonstrate that 
 eternity requires time, for even a millionth part of a sec- 
 ond is time, as much so as a million of years." 
 
 "You mistake," he replied, "you misinterpret my 
 words. I said that all you experienced in your eternity 
 of suffering and pleasure occurred between the point 
 when you touched the fungus fruit to your lips and that 
 when your knees struck the stone." 
 
 "That consumed time," I answered. 
 
 "Did I assert," he questioned, "that your experiences 
 were scattered over that entire period?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "May not all that occurred to your mind have been 
 crushed into the second that accompanied the mental im- 
 pression produced by the liquor, or the second of time 
 that followed, or any other part of that period, or a frac- 
 tion of any integral second of that period?" 
 
 "I cannot say," I answered, "what part of tlie period 
 the hallucination, as you call it, occupied." 
 
 "You admit that so far as your conception of time is 
 concerned, the occurrences to which you refer may have 
 existed in either an inestimable fraction of the first, the 
 second, or the third part of the period." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "yes ; if you are correct in that, they 
 were illusions." 
 
 "Let me ask you furthermore," he said ; "are you sure 
 
2o8 Etidorhpa 
 
 that the flash that bred your hallucination was not in- 
 stantaneous, and a part of neither the first, second, nor 
 third second ?" 
 
 "Continue your argument." 
 
 "I will repeat a preceding question with a slight modi- 
 fication. May not all that occurred to your mind have 
 been crushed into the space between the second of time 
 that preceded the mental impression produced by the 
 liquor, and the second that followed it ? Need it have been 
 a part of either second, or of time at all? Indeed, could 
 it have been a part of time if it were instantaneous?" 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "Suppose the entity that men call the soul of man were 
 in process of separation from the body. The process you 
 will admit would occupy time, until the point of liberation 
 was reached. Would not dissolution, so far as the 
 separation of matter and spirit is concerned at its critical 
 point, be instantaneous?" 
 
 I made no reply. 
 
 "If the critical point is instantaneous, there would be 
 no beginning, there could be no end. Therein rests an 
 eternity greater than man can otherwise conceive of, for 
 as there is neither beginning nor end, time and space are 
 annihilated. The line that separates the soul that is in the 
 body from the soul that is out of the body is outside of all 
 things. It is a between, neither a part of the nether side 
 nor of the upper side ; it is outside the here and the here- 
 after. Let us carry this thought a little farther," said he. 
 "Suppose a good man were to undergo this change, could 
 not all that an eternity of happiness might offer be 
 crushed into this boundless conception, the critical point ? 
 All that a mother craves in children dead could reappear 
 again in their once loved forms ; all that a good life earns 
 would rest in the soul's experience in that eternity, but 
 not as an illusion, although no mental pleasure, no 
 physical pain is equal to that of hallucinations. Sup- 
 pose that a vicious life were ended, could it escape the 
 inevitable critical point? Would not that life in its pre- 
 
Eternity Without Time 209 
 
 vious journey create its own sad eternity? You have seen 
 the working of an eternity with an end, but not a begin- 
 ning to it, for you cannot sense the commencement of 
 your vision. You have been in the cavern of the 
 grotesque — the realms of the beautiful, and have walked 
 over the boundless sands that bring misery to the soul, 
 and have, as a statue, seen the frozen universe dissolve. 
 You are thankful that it was all an illusion as you deem 
 it now ; what would you think had only the heavenly part 
 been spread before you ?" 
 
 "I would have cursed the man who dispelled the il- 
 lusion," I answered, 
 
 "Then," he said, "you are willing to admit that men who 
 so live as to gain such an eternity, be it mental illusion, 
 hallucination or real, make no mistake in life." 
 
 "I do," I replied ; "but you confound me when you 
 argue in so cool a manner that eternity may be everlasting 
 to the soul, and yet without the conception of time." 
 
 "Did I not teach you in the beginning of this journey," 
 he interjected, "that time is not as men conceive it? Men 
 cannot grasp an idea of eternity and retain their sun-bred, 
 morning and evening, conception of time. Therein lies 
 their error. As the tip of the whip-lash passes with the 
 lash, so through life the soul of man proceeds with the 
 body. As there is a point just when the tip of the whip- 
 lash is on the edge of its return, where all motion of the 
 line that bounds the tip ends, so there is a motionless 
 point when the soul starts onward from the body of man. 
 As the tip of the whip-lash sends its cry through space, 
 not while it is in motion either way, but from the point 
 where motion ceases, the spaceless, timeless point that lies 
 between the backward and the forward, so the soul of 
 man leaves a cry (eternity) at the critical point. It is the 
 death echo, and thus each snap of the life-thread throws 
 an eternity, its own eternity, into eternity's seas, and each 
 eternity is made up of the entities thus cast from the 
 critical point. With the end of each soul's earth journey, 
 a new eternity springs into existence, occupying no space, 
 
2IO Etidorhpa 
 
 consuming no time, and not conflicting with any other, 
 each being exactly what the soul's earth record makes it, 
 an eternity of joy (Heaven), or an eternity of anguish 
 (Hell). There can be no neutral ground." 
 
 Then he continued : 
 
 "The drunkard is destined to suffer in the drunkard's 
 eternity, as you have suffered ; the enticement of drink 
 is evanescent, the agony to follow is eternal. You have 
 seen that the sub-regions of earth supply an intoxicant. 
 Taste not again of any intoxicant ; let your recent lesson 
 be your last. Any stimulant is an enemy to man, any 
 narcotic is a fiend. It destroys its victim, and corrupts 
 the mind, entices it into pastures grotesque, and even 
 pleasant at first, but destined to eternal misery in the end. 
 Beware of the eternity that follows the snapping of the 
 life-thread of a drunkard. Come," he abruptly said, ''let 
 us pursue our journey." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE FATHOMLESS ABYSS. — THE EDGE OF THE EARTH SHELL. 
 
 For a long time thereafter we journeyed on in silence, 
 now amid stately stone pillars, then through great cliff 
 openings or among gigantic formations that often 
 stretched away like cities or towns dotted over a plain, 
 to vanish in the distance. Then the scene changed, and 
 we traversed magnificent avenues, bounded by solid walls 
 which expanded into lofty caverns of illimitable extent, 
 from whence we found ourselves creeping through nar- 
 row crevices and threading winding passages barely 
 sufficient to admit our bodies. For a considerable period 
 I had noted the absence of water, and as we passed from 
 grotto to temple reared without hands, it occurred to me 
 that I could not now observe evidence of water erosion in 
 the stony surface over which we trod, and which had been 
 so abundant before we reached the lake. My guide ex- 
 plained by saying in reply to my thought question, that 
 we were beneath the water line. He said that liquids 
 were impelled back toward the earth's surface from a 
 point unnoticed by me, but long since passed. Neither 
 did I now experience hunger nor thirst, in the slightest 
 degree, a circumstance which my guide assured me was 
 perfectly natural in view of the fact that there was neither 
 waste of tissue nor consumption of heat in my present 
 organism. 
 
 At last I observed far in the distance a slanting sheet 
 of light that, fan-shaped, stood as a barrier across the 
 way ; beyond it neither earth nor earth's surface appeared. 
 As we approached, the distinctness of its outline disap- 
 peared, and when we came nearer, I found that it 
 streamed into the space above, from what appeared to be 
 
2 I 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 a crevice or break in the earth that stretched across our 
 pathway, and was apparently Hmitless and bottomless. 
 
 "Is this another hallucination?" I queried. 
 
 "No; it is a reality. Let us advance to the brink." 
 
 Slowly we pursued our way, for I hesitated and held 
 back. I had really begun to distrust my own senses, and 
 my guide in the lead was even forced to demonstrate the 
 feasibility of the way, step by step, before I could be in- 
 duced to follow. At length we neared the edge of the 
 chasm, and while he stood boldly upright by the brink, 
 with fear and trembling I crept on my knees to his side, 
 and together we faced a magnificent but fearful void that 
 stretched beneath and beyond us, into a profundity of 
 space. I peered into the chamber of light, that inde- 
 scribable gulf of brilliancy, but vainly sought for an op- 
 posite w'all ; there was none. As far as the eye could 
 reach, vacancy, illuminated vacancy, greeted my vision. 
 The light that sprung from that void was not dazzling, 
 but was possessed of a beauty that no words can suggest. 
 I peered downward, and found that we stood upon the 
 edge of a shelving ledge of stone that receded rapidly 
 beneath us, so that we seemed to rest upon the upper side 
 of its wedge-like edge. I strained my vision to catch a 
 glimpse of the bottom of this chasm, but although I real- 
 ized that my eyes were glancing into miles and miles of 
 space, there was no evidence of earthly material other 
 than the brink upon which we stood. 
 
 The limit of vision seemed to be bounded by a silvery 
 blending of light with light, light alone, only light. The 
 dead silence about, and the new light before me, combined 
 to produce a weird sensation, inexplicable, overpowering. 
 A speck of dust on the edge of immensity, I clung to the 
 stone cliff, gazing into the depths of that immeasurable 
 void. 
 

 ■i'n, 11 \K \M' I i-i ^'1'' ' 
 
 KKIT iiN ^ 
 
 ^ KNKKS TO HIS SinK. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 MY HEART THROB IS STILLED, AND YET I LIVE. 
 
 "It now becomes my duty to inform you that this is 
 one of the stages in our journey that can only be passed 
 by the exercise of the greatest will force. Owing to our 
 former surroundings upon the surface of the earth, and 
 to your inheritance of a so-called instinctive education, 
 you would naturally suppose that we are now on the brink 
 of an impassable chasm. This sphere of material vacuity 
 extends beneath us to a depth that I am sure you will be 
 astonished to learn is over six thousand miles. We may 
 now look straight into the earth cavity, and this stream- 
 ing light is the reflected purity of the space below. The 
 opposite side of this crevice, out of sight by reason of its 
 distance, but horizontally across from where we stand, 
 is precipitous and comparatively solid, extending upward 
 to the materal that forms the earth's surface. We have, 
 during our journey, traversed an oblique, tortuous 
 natural passage, that extends from the spot at which you 
 entered the cave in Kentucky, diagonally down into the 
 crust of the globe, terminating in this shelving bluff. I 
 would recall to your mind that your journey up to this 
 time has been of your own free will and accord. At each 
 period of vacillation — and you could not help but waver 
 occasionally — you have been at liberty to return to sur- 
 face earth again, but each time you decided wisely to con- 
 tinue your course. You can now return if your courage 
 is not sufficient to overcome your fear, but this is the last 
 opportunity you will have to reconsider while in my com- 
 pany," so spoke my guide. 
 
 "Have others overcome the instinctive terrors to which 
 you allude?" 
 
 "Yes ; but usually the dread of death, or an unbearable 
 
214 Etidorhpa 
 
 uncertainty, compels the traveller to give up in despair 
 before reaching this spot, and the opportunity of a life- 
 time is lost. Yes ; an opportunity that occurs only in the 
 lifetime of one person out of millions, of but few in our 
 brotherhood." 
 
 "Then I can return if I so elect?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Will you inform me concerning the nature of the 
 obstacle I have to overcome, that you indicate by your 
 vague references?" 
 
 "We must descend from this cliff." 
 
 "You cannot be in earnest." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Do you not see that the stone recedes from beneath 
 us, that we stand on the edge of a wedge overhanging 
 bottomless space?" 
 
 "That I understand." 
 
 "There is no ladder," and then the foolish remark 
 abashed me as I thought of a ladder six thousand miles 
 in length. 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 He made no reference to my confusion. 
 
 "There is practically no bottom," I asserted, "if I can 
 believe your words ; you told me so." 
 
 "And that I reiterate." 
 
 "The feat is impracticable, impossible, and only a mad- 
 man would think of trying to descend into such a depth of 
 space." 
 
 Then an idea came over me ; perhaps there existed a 
 route at some other point of the earth's crevice by which 
 we could reach the under side of the stone shelf, and I in- 
 timated as much to the guide. 
 
 "No; we must descend from this point, for it is the 
 only entrance to the hollow beneath." 
 
 We withdrew from the brink, and I meditated in 
 silence. Then I crept again to the edge of the bluff, and 
 lying flat on my chest, craned my head over, and peered 
 down into the luminous gulf. The texture of the reced- 
 
My Heart Throb is Stilled 2 1 5 
 
 ing material was distinctly visible for a considerable dis- 
 tance, and then far, far beneath all semblance to material 
 form disappeared — as the hull of a vessel fades in deep, 
 clear water. As I gazed into the gulf it seemed evident 
 that, as a board floating in water is bounded by water, this 
 rock really ended. I turned to my guide and questioned 
 him. 
 
 "Stone in this situation is as cork," he replied ; "it is 
 nearly devoid of weight ; your surmise is correct. We 
 stand on the shelving edge of a cliff of earthly matter, 
 that in this spot slants upward from beneath like the bow 
 of a boat. We have reached the bottom of the film of 
 space dust on the bubble of energy that forms the skeleton 
 of earth." 
 
 I clutched the edge of the cliff with both hands. 
 
 "Be not frightened ; have I not told you that if you 
 wish to return you can do so. Now hearken to me : 
 
 "A short time ago you endeavored to convince me that 
 we could not descend from this precipice, and you are 
 aware that your arguments were without foundation. 
 You drew upon your knowledge of earth materials, as 
 you once learned them, and realized at the time that you 
 deluded yourself in doing so, for you know that present 
 conditions are not such as exist above ground. You are 
 now influenced by surroundings that are entirely different 
 from those that govern the lives of men upon the earth's 
 surface. You are almost without weight. You have 
 nearly ceased to breathe, as long since you discovered, 
 and soon I hope will agree entirely to suspend that harsh 
 and wearying movement. Your heart scarcely pulsates, 
 and if you go with me farther in this journev, will soon 
 cease to beat." 
 
 I started up and turned to flee, but he grasped and held 
 me firmly. 
 
 "Would you murder me? Do you think I will mutely 
 acquiesce while you coolly inform me of your inhuman 
 intent, and gloat over the fact that my heart will soon 
 be as stone, and that I shall be a corpse?" He attempted 
 
2i6 Etidorhpa 
 
 to break in, but I proceeded in frenzy. "I will return to 
 upper earth, to sunshine and humanity. I will retreat 
 while yet in health and strength, and although I have in 
 apparent willingness accompanied you to this point, learn 
 now that at all times I have been possessed of the means 
 to defend myself from personal violence." I drew from 
 my pocket the bar of iron. "See, this I secreted about my 
 person in the fresh air of upper earth, the sweet sunshine 
 of heaven, fearing that I might fall into the hands of men 
 with whom I must combat. Back, back," I cried. 
 
 He released his hold of my person, and folded his arms 
 upon his breast, then quietly faced me, standing directly 
 between myself and the passage we had trod, while I 
 stood on the brink, my back to that fearful chasm. 
 
 By a single push he could thrust me into the fathomless 
 gulf below, and with the realization of that fact, I felt 
 that it was now a life and death struggle. With every 
 muscle strained to its utmost tension, with my soul on fire, 
 my brain frenzied, I drew back the bar of iron to smite 
 the apparently defenceless being in the forehead, but he 
 moved not, and as I made the motion, he calmly re- 
 marked : "Do you remember the history of Hiram Abiff ?" 
 
 The hand that held the weapon dropped as if stricken 
 by paralysis, and a flood of recollections concerning my 
 lost home overcame me. I had raised my hand against a 
 brother, the only being of my kind who could aid me or 
 assist me either to advance or recede. How could I, un- 
 aided, recross that glassy lake, and pass through the 
 grotesque forests of fungi and the labyrinth of crystal 
 grottoes of the salt bed? How could I find my way in 
 the utter darkness that existed in the damp, soppy, drip- 
 ping upper caverns that I must retrace before I could 
 hope to reach the surface of the earth? "Forgive me," I 
 sobbed, and sunk at his feet. "Forgive me, my friend, my 
 brother ; I have been wild, mad, am crazed." He made no 
 reply, but pointed over my shoulder into the space be- 
 yond. 
 
 I turned, and in the direction indicated, saw, in amaze- 
 
My Heart Throb is Stilled 217 
 
 ment, floating in the distant space, a snow and ice-clad 
 vessel in full sail. She was headed diagonally from us, 
 and was moving rapidly across the field of vision. Every 
 spar and sail was clearly defined, and on her deck and in 
 the rigging I beheld sailors clad in winter garments 
 pursuing their various duties. 
 
 As I gazed, enraptured, she disappeared in the distance. 
 
 "A phantom vessel," I murmured. 
 
 "No," he replied ; "the abstraction of a vessel sailing 
 on the ocean above us. Every object on earth is the sec- 
 ond to an imprint in another place. There is an apparent 
 reproduction of matter in so-called vacancy, and on un- 
 seen pages a recording of all events. As that ship sailed 
 over the ocean above us, she disturbed a current of 
 energy, and it left its impress as an outline on a certain 
 zone beneath, which is parallel with that upon which we 
 now chance to stand." 
 
 "I cannot comprehend," I muttered. 
 
 "No," he answered ; "to you it seems miraculous, as to all 
 men an unexplained phenomenon approaches the super- 
 natural. All that is is natural. Have men not been told 
 in sacred writings that their every movement is being re- 
 corded in the Book of Life, and do they not often doubt 
 because they cannot grasp the problem? May not the 
 greatest scientist be a pronounced sceptic?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied. 
 
 "You have just seen," he said, "the record of an act on 
 earth, and in detail it is being printed elsewhere in the 
 Book of Eternity. If you should return to earth's surface 
 you could not by stating these facts convince even the per- 
 sons on that same ship of your sanity. You could not 
 make them believe that hundreds of miles beneath both 
 their vessel and its crew had been reproduced in fac- 
 simile, could you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Were you to return to earth you could not convince 
 men that you had existed without breath, with a heart 
 dead within you. If you should try to impress on man- 
 
2 1 8 Etidorhpa 
 
 kind the facts that you have learned in this journey, what 
 would be the result?" 
 
 "I would probably be considered mentally deranged; 
 this I have before admitted." 
 
 "Would it not be better then," he continued, "to go with 
 me, by your own free will, into the unknown future, 
 which you need fear less than a return to the scoffing mul- 
 titude amid the storms of upper earth? You know that 
 I have not at any time deceived you. I have, as yet, only 
 opened before you a part of one rare page out of the 
 boundless book of Nature ; you have tasted of the sweets 
 of which few persons in the flesh have sipped, and I now 
 promise you a further store of knowledge that is rich 
 beyond conception, if you wish to continue your journey." 
 
 "What if I decide to return?" 
 
 "I will retrace my footsteps and liberate you upon the 
 surface of the earth, as I have others, for few persons 
 have courage enough to pass this spot." 
 
 "Binding me to an oath of secrecy?" 
 
 "No," he answered ; "for if you relate these events men 
 will consider you a madman, and the more clearly you at- 
 tempt to explain the facts that you have witnessed, the 
 less they will listen to you ; such has been the fate of 
 others." 
 
 "It is, indeed, better for me to go with you," I said 
 musingly; "to that effect my mind is now made up, my 
 course is clear, I am ready." 
 
 With a motion so quick in conception and rapid in ex- 
 ecution that I was taken altagether by surprise, with a 
 grasp so powerful that I could not have repelled him, had 
 I expected the movement and tried to protect myself, the 
 strange man or being beside me threw his arms around 
 my body. Then, as a part of the same movement, he 
 raised me bodily from the stone, and before I could real- 
 ize the nature of his intention sprung from the edge of 
 the cliff into the abyss below, carrying me with him into 
 its depths. 
 
SPRUNG FROM THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF INTO THE ABYSS 
 BELOW, CARRYING ME WITH HIM INTO ITS DEPTHS." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE INNER CIRCLE, OR THE END OF GRAVITATION. IN THE 
 
 BOTTOMLESS GULF. 
 
 I RECALL a whirling sensation, and an involuntary at- 
 tempt at self-preservation, in which I threw my arms 
 wildly about with a vain endeavor to clutch some form of 
 solid body, which movement naturally ended by a tight 
 clasping of my guide in my arms, and locked together we 
 continued to speed down into the seven thousand miles of 
 vacancy. Instinctively I murmured a prayer of sup- 
 plication, and awaited the approaching catastrophe, 
 which, as I believed, would quickly witness the ex- 
 tinction of my unhappy life, the end of my material exist- 
 ence; but the moments multiplied without bodily shock 
 or physical pain of any description ; I retained my con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 "Open your eyes," said my guide, "you have no cause 
 for fear." 
 
 I acquiesced in an incredulous, dazed manner. 
 
 "This unusual experience is sufficient to unnerve you, 
 but you need have no fear, for you are not in corporal 
 danger, and can relax your grasp on my person." 
 
 I cautiously obeyed him, misgivingly, and slowly 
 loosened my hold, then gazed about to find that we were 
 in a sea of light, and that only light was visible, that form 
 of light which I have before defined as an entity without 
 source of radiation. In one direction, however, a great 
 gray cloud hung suspended and gloomy, dark in the 
 centre, and shading therefrom in a circle, to disappear 
 entirely at an angle of about forty-five degrees. 
 
 "This is the earth-shelf from which we sprung," said 
 the guide ; "it will soon disappear." 
 
 Wherever I glanced this radiant exhalation, a peaceful. 
 
The Inner Circle 221 
 
 luminous envelope, this rich, soft, beautiful white light 
 appeared. The power of bodily motion I found still a 
 factor in my frame, obedient, as before, to my will. I 
 could move my limbs freely, and my intellect seemed to 
 be intact. Finally I became impressed with the idea that 
 I must be at perfect rest, but if so what could be the 
 nature of the substance, or material, upon which I was 
 resting so complacently? No; this could not be. Then 
 I thought : 'T have been instantly killed by a painless 
 shock, and my spirit is in Heaven ;" but my earthly body 
 and coarse, ragged garments were palpable realities ; the 
 sense of touch, sight, and hearing surely were normal, 
 and a consideration of these facts dispelled my first con- 
 ception. 
 
 "Where are we now?" I ventured to ask. 
 
 "Moving into earth's central space," was the reply. 
 
 "I comprehend that a rushing wind surrounds us which 
 is not uncomfortable, but otherwise I experience no un- 
 usual sensation, and cannot realize but that I am at rest." 
 
 "The sensation as of blowing wind is in consequence 
 of our rapid motion, and results from the friction be- 
 tween our bodies and the quiescent, attenuated atmos- 
 phere which exists even here, but this atmosphere be- 
 comes less and less in amount until it will disappear 
 altogether at a short distance below us. Soon we shall be 
 in a perfect calm, and although moving rapidly, to all 
 appearances shall be at absolute rest." 
 
 Naturally, perhaps, my mind attempted, as it so often 
 had done, to urge objections to his statements, and at 
 first it occurred to me that I did not experience the 
 peculiar sinking away sensation in the chest that I re- 
 membered follows, on earth, the downward motion of a 
 person falling from a great height, or moving rapidly in a 
 swing, and I questioned him on the absence of that 
 phenomenon. 
 
 ' "The explanation is simple," he said ; "on the surface 
 of the earth a sudden motion, either upward or down- 
 ward, disturbs the equilibrium of the organs of respira- 
 
22 2 Etidorhpa 
 
 tion, and of the heart, and interferes with the circulation 
 of the blood. This produces a change in blood pressure 
 within the brain, and the 'sinking' sensation in the chest, 
 or the dizziness of the head of a person moving rapidly, 
 or it may even result in unconsciousness and complete 
 suspension of respiration, effects which sometimes fol- 
 low rapid movements, as in a person falling from a con- 
 siderable height. Here circumstances are entirely differ- 
 ent. The heart is quiet, the lungs in a comatose condition, 
 and the blood stagnant. ^Mental sensations, therefore, 
 that result from a disturbed condition of these organs are 
 wanting, and, although we are experiencing rapid motion, 
 we are in the full possession of our physical selves, and 
 maintain our mental faculties unimpaired." 
 
 Again I interposed an objection: 
 
 "If, as you say, we are really passing through an at- 
 tenuated atmosphere with increasing velocity, according 
 to the law that governs falling bodies that are acted upon 
 by gravity which continually accelerates their motion, the 
 friction between ourselves and the air will ultimately be- 
 come so intense as to wear away our bodies." 
 
 "Upon the contrary," said he, "this attenuated atmos- 
 phere is decreasing in density more rapidly than our 
 velocity increases, and before long it will have altogether 
 disappeared. You can perceive that the wind, as you call 
 it, is blowing less violently than formerly ; soon it will 
 entirely cease, as I have already predicted, and at that 
 period, regardless of our motion, we shall appear to be 
 stationary." 
 
 Pondering over the final result of this strange ex- 
 perience I became again alarmed, for accepting the facts 
 to be as he stated, such motion would ultimately carry us 
 against the opposite crust of the earth, and without a 
 doubt the shock would end our existence. I inquired 
 about this, to me, self-evident fact, and he replied : 
 
 "Long before we reach the opposite crust of the earth 
 our motion will be arrested." 
 
 I had begun now to feel a self-confidence that is sur- 
 
The Inner Circle 223 
 
 prising as I recall that remarkable position in connection 
 with my narrow experience in true science, and can say 
 that instead of despondency, I really enjoyed an elated 
 sensation, a curious exhilaration, a feeling of delight, 
 which I have no words to describe. Life disturbances and 
 mental worry seemed to have completely vanished, and it 
 appeared as if, with lucid mental perception, I were un- 
 der the influence of a powerful soporific ; the cares of 
 mortals had disappeared. After a while the wind ceased 
 to blow, as my guide had predicted, and with the sus- 
 pension of that factor, all that remained to remind me 
 of earth phenomena had vanished. There was no motion 
 of material, nothing to mar or disturb the most perfect 
 peace imaginable ; I was so exquisitely happy that I now 
 actually feared some change might occur to interrupt that 
 quiescent existence. It was as a deep, sweet sleep in 
 which, with faculties alive, unconsciousness was self- 
 conscious, peaceful, restful, blissful. I listlessly turned 
 my eyes, searching space in all directions — to meet 
 vacancy everywhere, absolute vacancy. I took from my 
 pocket (into which I had hastily thrust it) the bar of 
 iron, and released it ; the metal remained motionless be- 
 side me. 
 
 "Travelling through this expanse with the rapidity of 
 ourselves," said my guide. 
 
 I closed my eyes and endeavored to convince myself 
 that I was dreaming — vainly, however. I opened my 
 eyes, and endeavored to convince myself that I was mov- 
 ing, equally in vain. I became oblivious to everything 
 save the delicious sensation of absolute rest that en- 
 veloped and pervaded my being. 
 
 "I am neither alive nor dead," I murmured ; "neither 
 asleep nor awake ; neither moving nor at rest, and neither 
 standing, reclining, nor sitting. If I exist I cannot bring 
 evidence to prove that fact, neither can I prove that I am 
 dead." 
 
 "Can any man prove either of these premises?" said 
 the guide. 
 
2 24 Etidorhpa 
 
 "I have never questioned the matter," said I; "it is a 
 self-evident fact." 
 
 "Know then," said he, "that existence is a theory, and 
 that man is incapable of demonstrating that he has a 
 being. All evidences of mortal life are only as the phan- 
 tasms of hallucination. As a moment in dreamland may 
 span a life of time, the dreamer altogether unconscious 
 that it is a dream, so may life itself be a shadow, the vision 
 of a distempered fancy, the illusion of a floating thought." 
 
 "Are pain, pleasure, the act of living, imaginary 
 creations?" I asked facetiously. 
 
 "Is there a madman who does not imagine, as facts, 
 what others agree upon as hallucinations peculiar to him- 
 self? Is it not impossible to distinguish between differ- 
 ent gradations of illusions, and is it not, therefore, 
 possible that even self-existence is an illusion? What 
 evidence can any man produce to prove that his idea of 
 life is not a madman's dream?" 
 
 "Proceed," I said. 
 
 "At another time, perhaps," he remarked ; "we have 
 reached the Inner Circle, the Sphere of Rest, the line of 
 gravity, and now our bodies have no weight ; at this point 
 we begin to move with decreased speed, we shall eventu- 
 ally come to a quiescent condition, a state of rest, and 
 then start back on our rebound." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 HEARING WITHOUT EARS. — "VVHAT WILL BE THE END?" 
 
 A FLOOD of recollections came over me, a vivid re- 
 membrance of my earth-learned school philosophy. "I 
 rebel again," I said, "I deny your statements. We can 
 neither be moving, nor can we be out of the atmosphere. 
 Fool that I have been not to have sooner and better used 
 my reasoning faculties, not to have at once rejected your 
 statements concerning the disappearance of the atmos- 
 phere." 
 
 "I await your argument." 
 
 "Am I not speaking? Is other argument necessary? 
 Have I not heard your voice, and that, too, since you 
 asserted that we had left the atmosphere?" 
 
 "Continue." 
 
 "Have not men demonstrated, and is it not accepted be- 
 yond the shadow of a doubt, that sound is produced by 
 vibrations of the air?" 
 
 "You speak truly ; as men converse on surface earth." 
 
 "This medium — the air — in wave vibrations, strikes 
 upon the drum of the ear, and thus impresses the brain," 
 I continued. 
 
 "I agree that such are the teachings of your philoso- 
 phy ; go on." 
 
 "It is unnecessary ; you admit the facts, and the facts 
 refute you ; there must be an atmosphere to convey 
 sound." 
 
 "Cannot you understand that you are not now on the 
 surface of the earth? Will you never learn that the phi- 
 losophy of your former life is not philosophy here ? That 
 earth-bound science is science only with surface-earth 
 men? Here, that science is a fallacy. All that you have 
 
2 26 Etidorhpa 
 
 said is true of surface earth, but your argument is invalid 
 where every condition is different from the conditions 
 that prevail thereon. You use the organs of speech in ad- 
 dressing me as you once learned to use them, but such 
 physical efforts are unnecessary to convey sense-im- 
 pressions in this condition of rest and complacency, and 
 you waste energy in employing them. You assert and 
 believe that the air conveys sound ; you have been taught 
 such theories in support of a restricted philosophy ; but 
 may I ask you if a bar of iron, a stick of wood, a stream 
 of water, indeed, any substance known to you placed 
 against the ear will not do the same, and many sub- 
 stances even better than the atmosphere?" 
 
 "This I admit." 
 
 "Will you tell me how the vibration of any of these 
 bodies impresses the seat of hearing?" 
 
 "It moves the atmosphere which strikes upon the 
 tympanum of the ear." 
 
 "You have not explained the phenomenon ; how does 
 that tympanic membrane communicate with the brain?" 
 
 "By vibrations, I understand," I answered, and then I 
 began to feel that this assertion was a simple statement, 
 and not sufficient to explain how matter acts upon mind, 
 whatever mind may be, and I hesitated. 
 
 "Pray do not stop," he said ; "how is it that a delicate 
 vibrating film of animal membrane can receive and con- 
 vey sound to a pulpy organic mass that is destitute of 
 elasticity, and which consists mostly of water, for the 
 brain is such in structure, and vibrations like those you 
 mention cannot, by your own theory, pass through it as 
 vibrations through a sonorous material, or even reach 
 from the tympanum of the ear to the nearest convolution 
 of the brain." 
 
 "I cannot explain this, I admit." was my reply. 
 
 "Pass that feature, then, and concede that this tym- 
 panic membrane is capable of materially affecting brain 
 tissue by its tiny vibrations, how can that slimy, pulpy 
 formation, mostly made up of water, communicate with 
 
Hearing Without Ears 227 
 
 the soul of man, for you do not claim, I hope, that brain 
 material is either mind, conscience, or soul ?" 
 
 I confessed my inability to answer or even to theorize 
 on the subject, and recognizing my humiliation, I begged 
 him to open the door to such knowledge. 
 
 "The vibration of the atmosphere is necessary to man, 
 as earthy man is situated," he said. "The coarser at- 
 tributes known as matter formations are the crudities of 
 Nature, dust swept from space. Man's organism is made 
 up of the roughest and lowest kind of space materials ; 
 he is surrounded by a turbulent medium, the air, and 
 these various conditions obscure or destroy the finer at- 
 tributes of his ethereal nature, and prevent a higher 
 spiritual evolution. His spiritual self is enveloped in 
 earth, and everywhere thwarted by earthy materials. He 
 is insensible to the finer influences of surrounding media 
 by reason of the overwhelming necessity of a war for 
 existence with the grossly antagonistic materialistic con- 
 fusion that everywhere confronts, surrounds, and per- 
 vades him. Such a conflict with extraneous matter is 
 necessary in order that he may retain his earthy being, 
 for, to remain a living mortal, he must work to keep body 
 and soul together. His organs of communication and 
 perception are of 'earth, earthy ;' his nature is cast in a 
 mould of clay, and the blood within him gurgles and 
 struggles in his brain, a whirlpool of madly rushing liquid 
 substances, creating disorder in the primal realms of con- 
 sciousness. He is ignorant of this inward turmoil 
 because he has never been without it, as ignorant as he 
 is of the rank odors of the gases of the atmosphere that 
 he has always breathed, and cannot perceive because of 
 the benumbed olfactory nerves. Thus it is that all his 
 subtler senses are inevitably blunted and perverted, and 
 his vulgar nature preponderates. The rich essential part 
 of his own self is unknown, even to himself. The pos- 
 sibility of delight and pleasure in an acquaintance with 
 the finer attributes of his own soul is clouded by this 
 shrouding materialistic presence that has, through count- 
 
228 Etidorhpa 
 
 less generations, become a part of man, and he even de- 
 rives most of his mental pleasures from such acts as tend 
 to encourage the animal passions. Thus it follows that 
 the sensitive, highly developed, extremely attenuated 
 part of his inner being has become subservient to the 
 grosser elements. The baser part of his nature has be- 
 come dominant. He remains insensible to impressions 
 from the highly developed surrounding media which, 
 incapable of reaching his inner organism other than 
 through mechanical agencies, are powerless to impress 
 him. Alas, only the coarser conditions of celestial 
 phenomena can affect him, and the finer expressions of 
 the universe of life and force are lost to his spiritual ap- 
 prehension." 
 
 "Would you have me view the soul of man as I would 
 a material being?" 
 
 "Surely," he answered; "it exists practically as does 
 the more gross forms of matter, and in exact accord with 
 God's natural laws. Associated with lower forms of 
 matter, the soul of man is a temporary slave to the en- 
 veloping substance. The ear of man as now constituted 
 can hear only by means of vibrations of such media as 
 conduct vibrations in matter — for example, the air ; but 
 were man to be deprived of the organs of hearing, and 
 then exist for generations subject to evolutions from 
 within, whereby the acuteness of the spirit would become 
 intensified, or permitted to perform its true function, he 
 would learn to communicate soul to soul, not only with 
 mankind, but with celestial beings that surround, and are 
 now unknown to him. This he would accomplish 
 through a medium of communication that requires neither 
 ear nor tongue. To an extent your present condition is 
 what men call supernatural, although in reality you have 
 been divested of only a part of your former material 
 grossness, which object has been accomplished under per- 
 fectly natural conditions ; your mind no longer requires 
 the material medium by which to converse with the 
 spiritual. We are conversing now by thought contact, 
 
Hearing Without Ears 229 
 
 there is no atmosphere here, your tongue moves merely 
 from habit, and not from necessity. I am reading your 
 mind as you in turn are mine, neither of us is speaking 
 as you were accustomed to speak." 
 
 "I cannot accept that assertion," I said; "it is to me 
 impossible to realize the existence of such conditions." 
 
 "As it is for any man to explain any phenomenon in 
 life," he said. "Do you not remember that you ceased to 
 respire, and were not conscious of the fact?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That your heart had stopped beating, your blood no 
 longer circulated, while you were in ignorance of the 
 change ?" 
 
 "That is also true." 
 
 "Now I will prove my last assertion. Close your 
 mouth, and think of a question you wish to propound." 
 
 I did so, and to my perfect understanding and com- 
 prehension he answered me with closed mouth. 
 
 "What will be the end?" I exclaimed, or thought aloud. 
 "I am possessed of nearly all the attributes that I once 
 supposed inherent only in a corpse, yet I live, I see clearly, 
 I hear plainly, I have a quickened being, and a mental 
 perception intensified and exquisite. Why and how has 
 this been accomplished ? What will be the result of this 
 eventful journey?" 
 
 "Restful, you should say," he remarked; "the present 
 is restful, the end will be peace. 
 
C D 
 
 L 
 
 M 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF JOURNEY FROM K. [KENTUCKY] TO P. 
 OF EARTH." 
 
 A, B, Diameter of earth, 8,000 miles. 
 A, D, Thickness of earth crust, 800 
 
 miles. 
 C, D, Distance from inner earth crust 
 
 to energy sphere, 100 miles. 
 E, Underground lake. 
 E, F, Distance from surface of lake 
 
 to earth's surface. 
 G, Inner Circle (the Unknown Coun- 
 
 tr>-). 
 H, Middle Circle (Sphere of Energy, 
 
 or Circle of Rest). 
 L to M, Height of atmosphere, 200 
 miles. 
 
 K, Entrance to cavern in Kentucky. 
 
 L, Outer circle, earth's surface. 
 
 Mt. E, Mount Epomeo in Italy. 
 
 X, North Pole. 
 
 O, Rock shelf from which the leap 
 was made into the intra- 
 earth space. 
 
 P, Junction of earth crust witli 
 Circle of Rest. Point where 
 I-Am-The-Man stepped " on- 
 ward and upward" in " The 
 Unknown Country." 
 
 S, South Pole. 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 OSCILLATING THROUGH SPACE. — EARTH's SHELL ABOVE 
 
 ME. 
 
 Continued my companion : 
 
 "We have just now crossed the line of gravitation. 
 We were drawn downward until at a certain point, to 
 which I called your attention at the time, we recently 
 crossed the curved plane of perfect rest, where gravity 
 ceases, and by our momentum are now passing beyond 
 that plane, and are now pressing against the bond of 
 gravitation again. This shell in which gravity centres 
 is concentric with that of the earth's exterior, and is 
 about seven hundred miles below its surface. Each 
 moment of time will now behold us carried farther from 
 this sphere of attraction, and thus the increasing distance 
 increases the force of the restraining influence. Our 
 momentum is thus retarded, and consequently the 
 rapidity of our motion is continually decreasing. At last 
 when the forces of gravitation and mass motion neutral- 
 ize each other, we shall come to a state of rest again. 
 When our motion in that direction ceases, however, 
 gravitation, imperishable, continues to exert its equal- 
 izing influence, the result being a start in the opposite di- 
 rection, and we will then reverse our course, and retrace 
 our path, crossing again the central band of attraction, to 
 retreat and fly back into the expanse from which we came, 
 and which is now above us." 
 
 "Can this oscillation ever end? Are we to remain thus, 
 as an unceasing pendulum, traversing space, to and fro 
 across this invisible shell of attraction from now until the 
 end of time?" 
 
 "No ; there are influences to prevent such an ex- 
 perience ; one being the friction of the attenuated atmos- 
 
232 Etidorhpa 
 
 phere into which we plunge each time that we cross the 
 point of greater gravity, and approach the crust of the 
 earth. Thus each succeeding vibration is in shorter Unes, 
 and at last we shall come to a state of perfect rest at the 
 centre of gravity." 
 
 "I can only acquiesce in meek submission, powerless 
 even to argue, for I perceive that the foundations for my 
 arguments must be based on those observed conditions 
 of natural laws formerly known to me, and that do not 
 encompass us here ; I accept, therefore, your statements 
 as I have several times heretofore, because I cannot refute 
 them. I must close my eyes to the future, and accept it 
 on faith ; I cease to mourn the past, I cannot presage the 
 end." 
 
 "Well spoken," he replied ; "and while we are under- 
 going this necessary delay, this oscillating motion, to 
 which we must both submit before we can again continue 
 our journey, I will describe some conditions inherent in 
 the three spheres of which the rind of the earth is com- 
 posed, for I believe that you are now ready to receive and 
 profit by facts that heretofore you would have rejected in 
 incredulity. 
 
 "The outer circle, coat, or contour, of which you have 
 heard others beside myself speak, is the surface crust 
 of our globe, the great sphere of land and water on which 
 man is at present an inhabitant. This is the exposed part 
 of the earth, and is least desirable as a residence. It is 
 affected by grievous atmospheric changes, and restless 
 physical conditions, such as men, in order to exist in, 
 must fortify against at the expense of much bodily and 
 mental energy^ which leads them, necessarily, to en- 
 courage the animal at the expense of the ethereal. The 
 unmodified rays of the sun produce aerial convulsions 
 that are marked by thermal contrasts, and other meteoro- 
 logical variations, during which the heat of summer and 
 the cold of winter follow each other periodically and un- 
 ceasingly. These successive solar pulsations generate 
 winds, calms, and storms, and in order to protect himself 
 
Oscillating Through Space 233 
 
 against such exposures and changes in material surround- 
 ings, man toils, suffers, and comes to believe that the 
 doom, if not the object, of life on earth is the preservation 
 of the earthy body. All conditions and phases of Nature 
 on this outer crust are in an angry struggle, and this 
 commotion envelops the wretched home, and governs the 
 life of man. The surrounding cyclones of force and 
 matter have distorted the peaceful side of what human 
 nature might otherwise be until the shortened life of man 
 has become a passionate, deplorable, sorrowful struggle 
 for physical existence, from the cradle to the grave. Of 
 these facts man is practically ignorant, although each in- 
 dividual is aware he is not satisfied with his condition. 
 If his afflictions were obvious to himself, his existence 
 would be typical of a life of desolation and anguish. You 
 know full well that the condition of the outer sphere is, 
 as I have described it, a bleak, turbulent surface, the roof 
 of the earth on which man exists, as a creeping parasite 
 does on a rind of fruit, exposed to the fury of the ever- 
 present earth storms. 
 
 "The central circle, or medial sphere, the shell, or layer 
 of gravitation, lies conformable to the outer configuration 
 of the globe, about seven hundred miles towards its cen- 
 tre. It stretches beneath the outer circle (sphere) as a 
 transparent sheet, a shell of energy, the centre of gravita- 
 tion. The material crust of the earth rests on this placid 
 sphere of vigor, excepting in a few places, where, as in 
 the crevice we have entered, gaps, or crevices, in matter 
 exist, beginning from near the outer surface and extend- 
 tending diagonally through the medial and inner spheres 
 into the intra-earth space beyond. This medial sphere 
 is a form of pure force, a disturbance of motion, and al- 
 though without weight it induces, or conserves, gravity. 
 It is invisible to mortal eyes, and is frictionless, but really 
 is the bone of the earth. On it matter, the retarded 
 energy of space, space dust, has arranged itself as dust 
 collects on a bubble of water. This we call matter. The 
 material portion of the earth is altogether a surface film. 
 
234 Etidorhpa 
 
 an insignificant skin over the sphere of purity, the circle 
 of gravitation. Although men naturally imagine that the 
 density and stability of the earth are dependent on the 
 earthy particles, of which his own body is a part, such 
 is not the case. Earth, as man upon the outer surface can 
 now know it, is an aggregation of material particles, a 
 shell resting on this globular sphere of medial force, 
 which attracts solid matter from both the outer and inner 
 surfaces, forming thereby the middle of the three con- 
 centric spheres. This middle sphere is the reverse of the 
 outer, or surface, layer in one respect, for, while it at- 
 tracts solids, gases are repelled by it, and thus the atmos- 
 phere becomes less dense as we descend from the outer 
 surface of the earth. The greater degree of attraction 
 for gases belongs, therefore, to the earth's exterior sur- 
 face." 
 
 "Exactly at the earth's exterior surface?" I asked. 
 
 "Practically so. The greatest density of the air is 
 found a few miles below the surface of the ocean ; the air 
 becomes more attenuated as we proceed in either direc- 
 tion from that point. Were this not the case, the atmos- 
 phere that surrounds the earth would be quickly absorbed 
 into its substance, or expand into space and disappear." 
 
 "Scientific men claim that the atmosphere is forty-five 
 geographical miles in depth over the earth's surface," I 
 said. 
 
 "If the earth is eight thousand miles in diameter, how 
 long would such an atmosphere, a skin only, over a great 
 ball, resist such attraction, and remain above the globe? 
 Were it really attracted toward its centre it would disap- 
 pear as a film of water sinks into a sponge." 
 
 "Do you know," I interrupted, "that if these statements 
 were made to men they would not be credited ? Scientific 
 men have calculated the weights of the planets, and have 
 estimated therefrom the density of the earth, showing it 
 to be solid, and knowing its density, they would, on this 
 consideration alone, discredit your story concerning the 
 earth shell." 
 
Oscillating Through Space 235 
 
 "You mistake, as you will presently see. It is true that 
 man's ingenuity has enabled him to ascertain the weights 
 and densities of the planets, but do you mean to say that 
 these scientific results preclude the possibility of a hollow 
 interior of the heavenly bodies?" 
 
 "I confess, I do." 
 
 "You should know then, that what men define as 
 density of the earth is but an average value, which is 
 
 THE EARTH AND ITS ATMOSPHERE. 
 
 The space between the inner and the outer lines 
 represents the atmosphere upon the earth. The depth 
 to which man has penetrated the earth is less than the 
 thickness of either line, as compared with the diameter 
 of the inner circle. 
 
 much higher than that exhibited by materials in the sur- 
 face layers of the earth crust, such as come within the 
 scrutiny of man. This fact allows mortals of upper earth 
 but a vague conjecture as to the nature of the seemingly 
 much heavier substances that exist in the interior of the 
 €arth. Have men any data on hand to show exactly how 
 
236 Etidorhpa 
 
 matter is distributed below the limited zone that is ac- 
 cessible to their investigations?" 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "You may safely accept, then, that the earth shell I 
 have described to you embraces in a compact form the 
 total weight of the earth. Even though men take for 
 granted that matter fills out the whole interior of our 
 planet, such material would not, if distributed as on 
 earth's surface, give the earth the density he has deter- 
 mined for it." 
 
 "I must acquiesce in your explanations." 
 
 "Let us now go a step further in this argument. What 
 do you imagine is the nature of those heavier substances 
 whose existence deep within the earth is suggested by the 
 exceedingly high total density observed by man on upper 
 earth?" 
 
 "I am unable to explain, especially as the materials sur- 
 rounding us here, seemingly, do not differ much from 
 those with which my former life experience has made me 
 acquainted." 
 
 "Your observation is correct, there is no essential dif- 
 ference in this regard. But as we are descending into the 
 interior of this globe, and are approaching the central 
 seat of the shell of energy, the opposing force into which 
 we plunge becomes correspondingly stronger, and as a 
 consequence, matter pressed within it becomes really 
 lighter. Your own experience about your weight 
 gradually disappearing during this journey should con- 
 vince you of the correctness of this fact." 
 
 "Indeed, it does," I admitted. 
 
 "You will then readily understand that the heavy 
 material to which surface-bred mortals allude as prob- 
 ably constituting the interior of the earth, is, in fact, 
 nothing but the manifestation of a matter-supporting 
 force, as exemplified in the sphere of attractive energy, 
 the seat of which we are soon to encounter on our 
 journey. Likewise the mutual attraction of the heavenly 
 bodies is not a property solely of their material part, but 
 
Oscillating Through Space 237 
 
 an expression in which both the force-spheres and the 
 matter collected thereon take part. 
 
 "Tell me more of the sphere in which gravitation is in- 
 tensest." 
 
 "Of that you are yet to judge," he replied. "When 
 we come to a state of rest in the stratum of greater 
 gravity, we will then traverse this crevice in the sheet of 
 energy until we reach the edge of the earth crust, after 
 which we will ascend toward the interior of the earth, 
 until we reach the inner crust, which is, as before ex- 
 plained, a surface of matter that lies conformable with 
 the external crust of the earth, and which is the interior 
 surface of the solid part of the earth. There is a concave 
 world beneath the outer convex world." 
 
 *T cannot comprehend you. You speak of continuing 
 our journey toward the centre of the earth, and at the 
 same time you say that after leaving the Median Circle 
 we shall then ascend, which seems contradictory." 
 
 'T have endeavored to show you that matter is resting 
 in or on a central sphere of energy, which attracts solid 
 bodies toward its central plane. From this fundamental 
 and permanent seat of gravity we may regard our prog- 
 ress as up-hill, whether we proceed toward the hollow 
 centre or toward the outer surface of the globe. If a 
 stick weighted on one end is floated upright in water, an 
 insect on the top of the stick above the water will fall to 
 the surface of the liquid, and yet the same insect will rise 
 to the surface of the water if liberated beneath the water 
 at the bottom of the stick. This comparison is not pre- 
 cisely applicable to our present position, for there is no 
 change in medium here, but it may serve as an aid to 
 thought and may indicate to you that which I wish to 
 convey when I say 'we ascend' in both directions as we 
 pull against Gravity. The terms up and down are not 
 absolute, but relative." 
 
 Thus we continued an undefined period in mind con- 
 versation ; and of the information gained in my ex- 
 perience of that delightful condition I have the privilege 
 
238 Etidorhpa 
 
 now to record but a small portion, and even this statement 
 of facts appears, as I glance backward into my human 
 existence, as if it may seem to others to border on the in- 
 credible. During all that time — I know not how long the 
 period may have been — we were alternately passing and 
 repassing through the partition of division (the sphere 
 of gravity) that separated the inner from the outer sub- 
 stantial crust of earth. With each vibration our line of 
 travel became shorter and shorter, like the decreasing- 
 oscillations of a pendulum, and at last I could no longer 
 perceive the rushing motion of a medium like the air. 
 Finally my guide said that we were at perfect rest at a. 
 point in that mysterious medial sphere which, at a dis- 
 tance of about seven hundred miles below the level of 
 the sea, concentrates in its encompassing curvature the 
 mighty power of gravitation. We were fixed seven hun- 
 dred miles from the outer surface of the globe, but more 
 than three thousand from the centre. 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 MY WEIGHT ANNIHILATED. ''tELL Me/' I CRIED IN 
 
 ALARM, "is this TO BE A LIVING TOMB?" 
 
 "If you will reflect upon the condition we are now in, 
 you will perceive that it must be one of unusual scientific 
 interest. If you imagine a body at rest, in an intangible 
 medium, and not in contact with a gas or any substance 
 capable of creating friction, that body by the prevailing 
 theory of matter and motion, unless disturbed by an im- 
 pulse from without, would remain forever at absolute 
 rest. We now occupy such a position. In whatever direc- 
 tion we may now be situated, it seems to us that we are 
 upright. We are absolutely without weight and in a 
 perfectly frictionless medium. Should an inanimate body 
 begin to revolve here, it would continue that motion for- 
 ever. If our equilibrium should now be disturbed, and 
 we should begin to move in a direction coinciding with 
 the plane in which we are at rest, we would continue mov- 
 ing with the same rapidity in that direction until our 
 course was arrested by some opposing object. We are 
 not subject to attraction of matter, for at this place gravi- 
 tation robs matter of its gravity, and has no influence on 
 extraneous substances. We are now in the centre of 
 gravitation, the 'Sphere of Rest.' " 
 
 "Let me think it out," I replied, and reasoning from 
 his remarks, I mentally followed the chain to its sequence, 
 and was startled as suddenly it dawned upon me that if 
 his argument was true we must remain motionless in this 
 spot until death (could beings in conditions like ourselves 
 die beyond the death we had already achieved) or the end 
 of time. We were at perfect rest, in absolute vacancy, 
 there being, as I now accepted without reserve, neither 
 
240 Etidorhpa 
 
 gas, liquid, nor solid that we could employ as a lever to 
 start us into motion. "Tell me," I cried in alarm, "is 
 this to be a living tomb? Are we to remain suspended 
 here forever, and if not, by what method can we hope to 
 extricate ourselves from this state of perfect quiescence?" 
 He again took the bar of iron from my hand, and cau- 
 tiously gave it a whirling motion, releasing it as he did so. 
 It revolved silently and rapidly in space without support 
 or pivot. 
 
 "So it would continue," he remarked, "until the end of 
 time, were it not for the fact that I could not possibly 
 release it in a condition of absolute horizontal rest. 
 There is a slight, slow, lateral motion that will carry the 
 object parallel with this sheet of energy to the material 
 side of this crevice, when its motion will 'be arrested by 
 the earth it strikes.' " 
 
 "That I can understand," I replied, and then a ray of 
 light broke upon me. "Had not Cavendish demonstrated 
 that, when a small ball of lead is suspended on a film of 
 silk, near a mass of iron or lead, it is drawn toward the 
 greater body ? We shall be drawn by gravity to the near- 
 est clifif," I cried. 
 
 "You mistake," he answered ; "Cavendish performed 
 his experiments on the surface of the earth, and there 
 gravity is always ready to start an object into motion. 
 Here objects have no weight, and neither attract nor repel 
 each other. The force of cohesion holds together sub- 
 stances that are in contact, but as gravitation cannot now 
 aflfect matter out of molecular contact with other forms 
 of matter, because of the equilibrium of all objects, so it 
 may be likewise said that bodies out of contact have at 
 this point no attraction for one another. If they pos- 
 sessed this attribute, long ago we would have been drawn 
 toward the earth clifif with inconceivable velocity. How- 
 ever, if by any method our bodies should receive an im- 
 pulse sufficient to start them into motion, ever so gently 
 though it be, we in like manner would continue to move 
 in this frictionless medium — until" — 
 
My Weight Annihilated 241 
 
 "We would strike the material boundary of this 
 crevice," I interrupted. 
 
 "Yes ; but can you conceive of any method by which 
 such voluntary motion can now be acquired?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Does it not seem to you," he continued, "that when 
 skilful mechanics on the earth's surface are able to ad- 
 just balances so delicately that in the face of friction of 
 metal, friction of air, inertia of mass, the thousandth part 
 of a grain can produce motion of the great beams and 
 pans of such balances, we, in this location, where there 
 is no friction and no opposing medium — none at all — 
 should be able to induce mass motion?" 
 
 "I cannot imagine how it is possible, unless we shove 
 each other apart. There is no other object to push 
 against — but why do you continue to hold me so tightly?" 
 I interrupted myself to ask, for he was clasping me firmly 
 again. 
 
 "In order that you may not leave me," he replied. 
 
 "Come, you trifle," I said, somewhat irritated ; "you 
 have just argued that we are immovably suspended in a 
 frictionless medium, and fixed in our present position ; 
 you ask me to suggest some method by which we can 
 create motion, and I fail to devise it, and almost in the 
 same sentence you say that you fear that I will leave you. 
 Cease your incongruities, and advise with me rationally." 
 
 "Where is the bar of iron?" he asked. 
 
 I turned toward its former location ; it had disappeared. 
 
 "Have you not occasionally felt," he asked, "that in 
 your former life your mind was a slave in an earthly 
 prison? Have you never, especially in your dreams, ex- 
 perienced a sensation of mental confinement?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Know then," he replied, "that there is a connection 
 between the mind and the body of mortal beings, in which 
 matter confines mind, and yet mind governs matter. 
 How else could the will of men and animals impart 
 voluntary motion to earthy bodies ? With beings situated 
 
242 Etidorhpa 
 
 as are the animals on the surface of the earth, mind alone 
 cannot overcome the friction of matter. A person could 
 suspend himself accurately on a string, or balance him- 
 self on a pivot, and wish with the entire force of his mind 
 that his body would revolve, and still he would remain 
 at perfect rest." 
 
 "Certainly. A man would be considered crazy who at- 
 tempted it," I answered. 
 
 "Notwithstanding your opinion, in time to come 
 human beings on the surface of the earth will investigate 
 in this very direction," he replied, "and in the proper time 
 mental evolution will, by experimentation, prove the fact 
 of this mind and matter connection, and demonstrate that 
 even extraneous matter may be made subservient to mind 
 influences. On earth, mind acts on the matter of one's 
 body to produce motion of matter, and the spirit within, 
 which is a slave to matter, moves with it. Contraries rule 
 here. Mind force acts on pure space motion, moving it- 
 self and matter with it, and that, too, without any exertion 
 of the material body, which now is a nonentity, mind here 
 being the master." 
 
 "How can I believe you?" I replied. 
 
 "Know, then," he said, "that we are in motion now, 
 propelled bv my will power." 
 
 "Prove it." 
 
 "You may prove it yourself," he said ; "but be careful, 
 or we shall separate forever." 
 
 Releasing his grasp, he directed me to wish that I were 
 moving directly to the right. I did so ; the distance 
 widened between us. 
 
 "Wish intensely that you would move in a circle about 
 me. 
 
 I acquiesced, and at once my body began to circle 
 around him. 
 
 "Call for the bar of iron." 
 
 I did as directed, and soon it came floating out of space 
 into my very hand. 
 
My Weight Annihilated 243 
 
 "I am amazed," I ejaculated; "yes, more surprised at 
 these phenomena than at anything that has preceded." 
 
 "You need not be ; you move now under the influences 
 of natural laws that are no more obscure or wonderful 
 than those under which you have always existed. In- 
 stead of exercising its influence on a brain, and thence in- 
 directly on a material body, your mind force is exerting 
 its action through energy on matter itself. Matter is here 
 subservient. It is nearly the same as vacuity, mind being 
 a comprehensive reality. The positions we have hereto- 
 fore occupied have been reversed, and mind now 
 dominates. Know, that as your body is now absolutely 
 without weight, and is suspended in a frictionless 
 medium, the most delicate balance of a chemist cannot 
 approach in sensitiveness the adjustment herein ex- 
 emplified. Your body does not weigh the fraction of the 
 millionth part of a grain, and where there is neither 
 material weight nor possible friction, even the attrition 
 that on surface earth results from a needle point that rests 
 on an agate plate is immeasurably greater in comparison. 
 Pure mind energy is capable of disturbing the equilibrium 
 of matter in our-situation ; as you have seen exemplified 
 by our movements and extraneous materials, 'dead mat- 
 ter' obeys the spiritual. The bar of iron obeyed your call, 
 the spiritless metal is subservient to the demands of intel- 
 ligence. But, come, we must continue our journey." 
 
 Grasping me again, he exclaimed : "Wish with all in- 
 tensity that we may move forward, and I will do the 
 same." 
 
 I did so. 
 
 "We are now uniting our energies in the creation of 
 motion," he said ; "we are moving rapidly, and with con- 
 tinually accelerated speed ; soon we shall perceive the 
 earthy border of this chasm." 
 
 And yet it seemed to me that we were at perfect rest. 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 IS THAT A MORTAL? — "tHE END OF EARTH." 
 
 At length I perceived, in the distance, a crescent- 
 shaped ring of silver lustre. It grew broader, expanding 
 beneath my gaze, and appeared to approach rapidly. 
 
 "Hold ; cease your desire for onward motion," said the 
 guide; "we approach too rapidly. Quick, wish with all 
 your mind that you were motionless." 
 
 I did so, and we rested in front of a ridge of brilliant 
 material, that in one direction, toward the earth's outer 
 circle, broadened until it extended upward as far as the 
 eye could reach in the form of a bold precipice, and in the 
 other toward the inner world, shelved gradually away as 
 an ocean beach might do. 
 
 "Tell me, what is this barrier?" I asked. 
 
 "It is the opposite edge of the earth crevice," he said. 
 "That overhanging upright bluff reaches toward the ex- 
 ternal surface of the earth, the land of your former home. 
 That shelving approach beneath is the entrance to the 'In- 
 ner Circle,' the concavity of our world." 
 
 Again we approached the visible substance, moving 
 gently under the will of my guide. The shore became 
 more distinctly outlined as we advanced, inequalities that 
 were before unnoticed became perceptible, and the silver- 
 like material resolved itself into ordinary earth. Then I 
 observed, upright and motionless, on the edge of the shore 
 that reached toward the inner shell of earth, toward that 
 "Unknown Country" beyond, a figure in human form. 
 
 "Is that a mortal?" I asked. "Are we nearing human- 
 ity again?" 
 
 "It is a being of mortal build, a messenger who awaits 
 our coming, and who is to take charge of your person and 
 conduct you farther," he replied. "It has been my duty 
 
*« The End of Earth " 245 
 
 to crush, to overcome by successive lessons your obedi- 
 ence to your dogmatic, materialistic earth philosophy, and 
 bring your mind to comprehend that life on earth's sur- 
 face is only a step toward a brighter existence, which may, 
 when selfishness is conquered, in a time to come, be 
 gained by mortal man, and while he is in the flesh. The 
 vicissitudes through which you have recently passed 
 should be to you an impressive lesson, but the future holds 
 for you a lesson far more important, the knowledge of 
 spiritual, or mental, evolution which men may yet ap- 
 proach ; but that I would not presume to indicate now, 
 even to you. Your earthly body has become a useless 
 shell, and when you lay it aside, as you soon can do, as I 
 may say you are destined to do, you will feel a relief as 
 if an abnormal excrescence had been removed ; but you 
 cannot now comprehend such a condition. That change 
 will not occur until you have been further educated in the 
 purely occult secrets for which I have partly prepared 
 you, and the material part of your organism will at any 
 time thereafter come and go at command of your will. 
 On that adjacent shore, the person you have observed, 
 your next teacher, awaits you." 
 
 "Am I to leave you?" I cried in despair, for suddenly 
 the remembrance of home came into my mind, and the 
 thought, as by a flash, that this occult being alone could 
 guide me back to earth. "Recall your words, do not 
 desert me now after leading me beyond even alchemistic 
 imaginings into this subterranean existence, the result of 
 what you call your natural, or pure, ethereal lessons." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I beg of you, I implore of you, not to abandon me 
 now; have you no compassion, no feeling? You are the 
 one tie that binds me to earth proper, the only intelligence 
 that I know to be related to a human in all this great, 
 bright blank." 
 
 Again he shook his head. 
 
 "Hearken to my pleadings. Listen to my allegation. 
 You stood on the edge of the brook spring in Kentucky, 
 
246 Etidorhpa 
 
 your back to the darkness of that gloomy cavern, and I 
 vokintarily gave you my hand as to a guide ; I turned 
 from the verdure of the earth, the sunshine of the past, and 
 accompanied you into as dismal a cavern as man ever en- 
 tered. I have since alternately rebelled at your methods, 
 and again have trusted you implicitly as we passed 
 through scenes that rational imagination scarce could 
 conjure. I have successively lost my voice, my weight, 
 my breath, my heart throb, and my soul for aught I know. 
 Now an unknown future awaits me on the one hand, in 
 which you say my body is to disappear, and on the other 
 you are standing, the only link between earth and my self- 
 existence, a semi-mortal it may be, to speak mildly, for 
 God only knows your true rank in life's scale. Be you 
 man or not, you brought me here, and are responsible for 
 my future safety. I plead and beg of you either to go 
 on with me into the forthcoming uncertainty 'Within the 
 Unknown Country' to which you allude, or carry me back 
 to upper earth." 
 
 He shook his head again, and motioned me onward, 
 and his powerful will overcoming my feeble resistance, 
 impelled me toward that mysterious shore. I floated 
 helpless, as a fragment of camphor whirls and spins on a 
 surface of clear, warm water, spinning and whirling aim- 
 lessly about, but moving onward. My feet rested on solid 
 earth, and I awkwardly struggled a short distance on- 
 ward and upward, and then stepped upon the slope that 
 reached, as he had said, inward and upward toward the 
 unrevealed "Inner Circle." I had entered now that 
 mysterious third circle or sphere, and I stood on the very 
 edge of the wonderful land I was destined to explore, 
 "The Unknown Country." The strange, peaceful being 
 whom I had observed on the shore stepped to my side 
 and clasped both hands, and then the guide of former 
 days waved me an adieu. I sank upon my knees and im- 
 ploringly raised my arms in supplication, but the comrade 
 of my journey turned about, and began to retrace his 
 course. Suspended in vacancy, he seemed to float as a 
 
" The End of Earth " 247 
 
 spirit would if it were wafted diagonally into the heavens, 
 and acquiring momentum rapidly, became quickly a 
 bright speck, seemingly a silver mote in the occult earth 
 shine of that central sphere, and soon vanished from 
 view. In all my past eventful history there was nothing 
 similar to or approaching in keenness the agony that I 
 suffered at this moment, and I question if shipwrecked 
 sailor or entombed miner ever experienced the sense of 
 utter desolation that now possessed and overcame me. 
 Light everywhere about me, ever-present light, but dark- 
 ness within, darkness indescribable, and mental distress 
 unutterable. I fell upon my face in agony, and thought 
 of other times, and those remembrances of my once happy 
 upper earth life became excruciatingly painful, for when 
 a person is in misery pleasant recollections, by contrast, 
 increase the pain. "Let my soul die now as my body has 
 done," I moaned; "for even mental life, all I now possess 
 is a burden. The past to me is a painful, melancholy rec- 
 ollection ; the future is" — 
 
 I shuddered, for who could foretell my future? I 
 glanced at the immovable being with the sweet, mild 
 countenance, who stood silent on the strand beside me, 
 and whom I shall not now attempt to describe. He re- 
 plied : 
 
 "The future is operative and speculative. It leads the 
 contemplative to view with reverence and admiration the 
 glorious works of the Creator, and inspires him with the 
 most exalted ideas of the perfections of his divine 
 Creator." 
 
 Then he added : 
 
 "Have you accepted that whatever seems to be is not, 
 and that that which seems not to be, is? Have you 
 learned that facts are fallacies, and physical existence a 
 delusion? Do you accept that material bliss is impossible, 
 and that while humanity is working toward the undis- 
 covered land, man is not, cannot be satisfied ?" 
 
 "Yes," I said; "I admit anything, everything. I do 
 not know that I am here or that you are there. I do not 
 
248 Etidorhpa 
 
 know that I have ever been, or that any form of matter 
 has ever had an existence. Perhaps material things are 
 not, perhaps vacuity only is tangible." 
 
 "Are you willing to relinquish your former asso- 
 ciations, to cease to concern yourself in the affairs of 
 men ? Do you" — 
 
 He hesitated, seemed to consider a point that I could 
 not grasp ; then, without completing his sentence, or wait- 
 ing for me to answer, added : 
 
 "Come, my friend, let us enter the expanses of the Un- 
 known Country. You will soon behold the original of 
 your vision, the hope of humanity, and will rest in the 
 land of Etidorhpa. Come, my friend, let us hasten." 
 
 Arm in arm we passed into that domain of peace and 
 tranquillity, and as I stepped onward and upward perfect 
 rest came over my troubled spirit. All thoughts of 
 former times vanished. The cares of life faded ; misery, 
 distress, hatred, envy, jealousy, and unholy passions 
 were blotted from existence. Excepting my love for dear 
 ones still earth-enthralled, and the strand of sorrow that, 
 stretching from soul to soul, linked us together, the past 
 became a blank. I had reached the home of love, the land 
 of Etidorhpa — 
 
 THE END OF EARTH. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE LAST FAREWELL. 
 
 My mysterious guest, he of the silver, flowing beard, 
 read the last word of the foregoing manuscript, and then 
 laid the sheet of paper on the table, and rested his head 
 upon his hand, gazing thoughtfully at the open fire. Thus 
 he sat for a considerable period in silence. Then he said : 
 
 "Llewellyn, you have heard part of my story, that 
 portion which I am commanded to make known now, and 
 you have learned how, by natural methods, I passed by 
 successive steps while in the body to the door that death 
 only, as yet, opens to humanity. You understand also 
 that, although of human form, I am not as other men (for 
 with me matter is subservient to mind), and as you have 
 promised, so you must act, and do my bidding concern- 
 ing the manuscript." 
 
 "But there is surely more to follow. You will tell me 
 of what you saw and experienced beyond the end of earth, 
 within the possessions of Etidorhpa. Tell me of that Un- 
 known Country." 
 
 "No," he answered ; "this is the end, at least so far as 
 my connection with you is concerned. You still question 
 certain portions of my narrative, I perceive, notwithstand- 
 ing the provings I have given you, and yet as time passes 
 investigation will show that every word I have read or 
 uttered is true, historically, philosophically, and spirit- 
 ually (which you now doubt), and men will yet readily 
 understand how the seemingly profound, unfathomable 
 phenomena I have encountered may be verified. I have 
 studied and learned by bitter experience in a school that 
 teaches from the outgoings of a deeper philosophy than 
 human science has reached, especially modern materialis- 
 tic science, which, however, step by step it is destined to 
 
250 Etidorhpa 
 
 reach. And yet I have recorded but a small part of the 
 experiences that I have undergone. What I have related 
 is only a foretaste of the inexhaustible feast which, in 
 the wisdom expanse of the future, will yet be spread be- 
 fore man, and which tempts him onward and upward. 
 This narrative, the end of which rests against the be- 
 ginning of my real story, the Unknown Country and its 
 possibilities should therefore incite to renewed exertions, 
 both mental and experimental, those permitted to review 
 it. I have carried my history to the point at which I can 
 say to you, very soon afterward I gave up my body tem- 
 porarily, by a perfectly natural process, a method that 
 man can yet employ, and passed as a spiritual being into 
 the ethereal spaces, through those many mansions which 
 I am not permitted to describe at this time, and from 
 which I have been forced unwillingly to return and take 
 up the semblance of my body, in order to meet you and 
 record these events. I must await the development and 
 expansion of mind that will permit men to accept this 
 faithful record of my history before completing the nar- 
 rative, for men are yet unprepared. Men must seriously 
 consider those truths which, under inflexible natural laws, 
 govern the destiny of man, but which, if mentioned at this 
 day, can only be viewed as the hallucinations of a dis- 
 ordered mind. To many this manuscript will prove a 
 passing romance, to others an enigma, to others still it 
 will be a pleasing study. Men are not now in a condition 
 to receive even this paper. That fact I know full well, 
 and I have accordingly arranged that thirty years shall 
 pass before it is made public. Then they will have begun 
 to study more deeply into force disturbances, exhibitions 
 of energy that are now known and called imponderable 
 bodies (perhaps some of my statements will then even be 
 verified), and to reflect over the connection of matter 
 therewith. A few minds will then be capable of vaguely 
 conceiving possibilities, which this paper will serve to 
 foretell, for a true solution of the great problems of the 
 ethereal unknown is herein suggested, the study of which 
 
The Last Farewell 251 
 
 will lead to a final elevation of humanity, such as I dare 
 not prophesy." 
 
 "Much of the paper is obscure to me," I said ; "and 
 there are occasional phrases and repetitions that appear 
 to be interjected, possibly with an object, and which are 
 yet disconnected from the narrative proper." 
 
 "That is true ; the paper often contains statements that 
 are emblematical, and which you cannot understand, but 
 yet such portions carry to others a hidden meaning. I am 
 directed to speak to many persons besides yourself, and I 
 cannot meet those whom I address more directly than I 
 do through this communication. These pages will serve 
 to instruct many people — people whom you will never 
 know, to whom I have brought messages that will in 
 secret be read between the lines." 
 
 "Why not give it to such persons?" 
 
 "Because I am directed to bring it to you," he replied, 
 "and you are required : 
 
 "First. To seal the manuscript, and place it in the in- 
 ner vault of your safe. 
 
 "Second. To draw up a will, and provide in case of 
 your death, that after the expiration of thirty years from 
 this date the seals are to be broken, and a limited edition 
 published in book form, by one you select. 
 
 "Third. An artist capable of grasping the conceptions 
 will at the proper time be found, to whom the responsibil- 
 ity of illustrating the volume is to be entrusted, he re- 
 ceiving credit therefor. Only himself and yourself (or 
 your selected agent) are to presume to select the subjects 
 for illustration. 
 
 "Fourth. In case you are in this city, upon the ex- 
 piration of thirty years, you are to open the package and 
 follow the directions given in the envelope therein." 
 
 And he then placed on the manuscript a sealed en- 
 velope addressed to myself. 
 
 "This I have promised already," I said. 
 
 "Very well," he remarked, "I must bid you farewell." 
 
 "Wait a moment ; it is unjust to leave the narrative thus 
 
252 Etidorhpa 
 
 uncompleted. You had been promised a future in com- 
 parison with which the experiences you have undergone 
 and have related to me were tame ; you had just met on 
 the edge of the inner circle that mysterious being con- 
 cerning whom I am deeply interested, as I am in the con- 
 tinuation of your personal narrative, and you have evi- 
 dently more to relate, for you must have passed into that 
 Unknown Country. You claim to have done so, but you 
 break the thread in the most attractive part by leaving 
 the future open to conjecture." 
 
 "It must be so. This is a history of man on Earth, the 
 continuation will be a history of man within the Un- 
 known Country." 
 
 "And 1 am not to receive the remainder of your story?" 
 I reiterated, still loath to give it up. 
 
 "No; I shall not appear directly to you again. Your 
 part in this work will have ended when, after thirty 
 years, you carry out the directions given in the sealed 
 letter which, with this manuscript, I entrust to your care. 
 I must return now to the shore that separated me from 
 my former guide, and having again laid down this 
 semblance of a body, go once more into" — 
 
 He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Yes ; this 
 strange, mystical being whom I knew only as I-Am-The- 
 Man, and at first considered an impertinent fanatic, and 
 more than once afterward had been induced to view as 
 a cunning impostor, or to fear as a cold, semi-mortal, 
 sobbed like a child. 
 
 "It is too much," he said, seemingly speaking to him- 
 self ; "too much to require of one not yet immortal, for the 
 good of his race. I am again with men, nearly a human, 
 and I long to go back once more to my old home, my wife, 
 my children. Why am I forbidden ? The sweets of Para- 
 dise cannot comfort the mortal who must give up his 
 home and family, and yet carry his earth-thought beyond. 
 Man cannot possess unalloyed joys and blessings 
 spiritual and retain one backward longing for mundane 
 subjects, and I now yearn again for my earth love, my 
 
The Last Farewell 253 
 
 material family. Having tasted of semi-celestial pleas- 
 ures in one of the mansions of that complacent, pure, and 
 restful sphere, I now exist in the border land, but my 
 earth home is not relinquished ; I cling as a mortal to 
 former scenes, and crave to meet my lost loved ones. All 
 of earth must be left behind if Paradise is ever wholly 
 gained, yet I have still my sublunary thoughts. 
 
 "Etidorhpa ! Etidorhpa!" he pleaded, turning his eyes 
 as if toward one I could not see, "Etidorhpa, my old 
 home calls. Thou knowest that the beginning of man on 
 earth is a cry born of love, and the end of man on earth 
 is a cry for love ; love is a gift of Etidorhpa, and thou, 
 Etidorhpa, the soul of love, shouldst have compassion 
 on a pleading mortal." 
 
 He raised his hands in supplicatio 
 
 "Have mercy on me, Etidorhpa, as I would on you if 
 you were I and I were Etidorhpa." 
 
 Then with upturned face he stood long and silent, lis- 
 tening. 
 
 "Ah," he murmured at last, as if in reply to a voice I 
 could not catch, a voice that carried to his ear an answer 
 of deep disappointment ; "thou spokest truly in the vision, 
 Etidorhpa ; it is love that enslaves mankind ; love that 
 commands ; love that ensnares and rules mankind, and 
 thou, Etidorhpa, art the soul of Love. True it is that 
 were there no Etidorhpa, there would still be tears on 
 earth, but the cold, meaningless tears of pain only. No 
 mourning people, no sorrowful partings, no sobbing 
 mothers kneeling with upturned faces, no planting of the 
 myrtle and the rose on sacred graves. There would be 
 no child-love, no home, no tomb, no sorrow, no Be- 
 yond" — 
 
 He hesitated, sank upon his knees, pleadingly raised 
 his clasped hands and seemed to listen to that far-off 
 voice, then bowed his head, and answered : 
 
 "Yes ; thou art right, Etidorhpa — although thou bring- 
 est sorrow to mortals, without thee and this sorrow-gift 
 there could be no brighter hereafter. Thou art just, Eti- 
 
254 Etidorhpa 
 
 dorhpa, and always wise. Love is the seed, and sorrow is 
 the harvest, but this harvest of sadness is to man the 
 richest gift of love, the golden link that joins the spirit 
 form that has fled to the spirit that is still enthralled on 
 earth. Were there no earth-love, there could be no heart- 
 sorrow; were there no craving for loved ones gone, the 
 soul of man would rest forever a brother of the clod. He 
 who has sorrowed and not profited by his sorrow-lesson 
 is unfitted for life. He who heeds best his sorrow-teacher 
 is in closest touch with humanity, and nearest to Eti- 
 dorhpa. She who has drunk most deeply of sorrow's 
 cup has best fitted herself for woman's sphere in life, and 
 a final home of immortal bliss. I will return to thy 
 realms, Etidorhpa, and this silken strand of sorrow 
 wrapped around my heart, reaching from earth to Para- 
 dise and back to earth, will guide at last my loved ones 
 to the realms beyond — the home of Etidorhpa." 
 
 Rising, turning to me, and subduing his emotion, ignor- 
 ing this outburst, he said : 
 
 "If time should convince you that I have related a 
 faithful history, if in after years you come to learn my 
 name (I have been forbidden to speak it), and are con- 
 vinced of my identity, promise me that you will do your 
 unbidden guest a favor." 
 
 "This I will surely do ; what shall it be ?" 
 
 "I left a wife, a little babe, and a two-year-old child 
 when I was taken away, abducted in the manner that I 
 have faithfully recorded. In my subsequent experience 
 I have not been able to cast them from my memory. I 
 know that through my error they have been lost to me, 
 and will be until we shall meet again in one of the waiting 
 Mansions of the Great Beyond. I beg you to ascertain, 
 if possible, if either my children, or my children's 
 children, live, and should they be in want, present them 
 with a substantial testimonial. Now, farewell." 
 
 He held out his hand, I grasped it, and as I did so his 
 form became indistinct, and gradually disappeared from' 
 my gaze, the fingers of my hand met the palm in vacancy, 
 
I> Al.ONK IN MY ROOM I K )l.l)lNli THE MYSTEKIolS MANUSCRIPT. 
 
The Last Farewell 255 
 
 and with extended arms I stood alone in my room, hold- 
 ing the mysterious manuscript, on the back of which I 
 find plainly engrossed : 
 
 " There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
AND NOW FOLLOW 
 THE REMARKABLE DISCUSSIONS 
 
 AND THE 
 
 ASTONISHING EXPERIMENTS THAT 
 
 I-AM-THE-MAN 
 
 (The unbidden guest) 
 
 INTRODUCED TO CONFOUND 
 LLEWELLYN DRURY 
 
 (His unwilling host) 
 ALSO 
 
 THE CHAPTERS EXCLUDED FROM FORMER 
 EDITIONS OF ETIDORHPA 
 
Although the subjects that follow are complete in 
 themselves, they are nevertheless closely connected with 
 the preceding chapters. Readers desirous of tracing the 
 relationship may do so by means of the following table : 
 
 Chapter 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 leads to 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 
 < 
 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 
 ' " 
 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 
 . .. 
 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 
 ' " 
 
 
 XXI 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 
 
 
 XXI 
 
 L. 
 
 
 
 
 XXIV 
 
 LI. 
 
 
 < .. 
 
 
 XXV 
 
 LII. 
 
 
 . .. 
 
 
 XXVI 
 
 LIII. 
 
 
 . .. 
 
 
 LII 
 
 LIV. 
 
 
 ' " 
 
 
 LIII 
 
 LVI. 
 
 
 . .. 
 
 
 XXXIX 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 A SEARCH FOR KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 (This is the allegorical letter that led to the mysterious jour- 
 ney described in the preceding chapters, and to the discussions 
 that follow.) 
 
 To the Brother Adept who dares try to discover Zoro- 
 aster's Cave, or the Philosophers' Intellectual 
 Echoes, by means of which they communicate to 
 one another from their caves. 
 
 Know thou, that Hermes Trismegistus did not origi- 
 nate, but gave to our philosophy his name — the Hermetic 
 Art. Evolved in a dim, mystic age, before antiquity 
 began, it endured through the slowly rolling cycles 
 to be bandied about by the ever-ready flippancy of 
 nineteenth-century students. It has lived, because it is 
 endowed with that quality which never dies — truth. 
 Modern philosophy, of which chemistry is but a frag- 
 ment, draws its sustenance from the prime facts which 
 were revealed in ancient Egypt through Hermetic 
 thought, and fixed by the Hermetic stylus. 
 
 "The Hermetic allegories," so various in interpretable 
 susceptibility, led subsequent thinkers into speculations 
 and experimentations, which have resulted profitably to 
 the world. It is not strange that some of the followers 
 of Hermes, especially the more mercurial and imagina- 
 tive, should have evolved nebulous theories, no longer 
 explainable, and involving recondite spiritual considera- 
 tions. Know thou that the ultimate on psycho-chemical 
 investigation is the proximate of the infinite. Accord- 
 ingly, a class came to believe that a projection of natural 
 mental faculties into an advanced state of consciousness 
 
26o Etidorhpa 
 
 called the "wisdom faculty" constitutes the final pos- 
 sibility of Alchemy. The attainment of this exalted con- 
 dition is still believed practicable by many earnest 
 savants. Once on this lofty plane, the individual w^ould 
 not be trammelled by material obstacles, but would abide 
 in that spiritual placidity which is the exquisite real- 
 ization of mortal perfection. So exalted, he would be in 
 naked parallelism with Omniscience, and through his il- 
 luminated understanding could feast his soul on those 
 exalted pleasures which are scarcely less than deific. 
 
 Notwithstanding the exploitings of a number of these 
 philosophers, in which, by reason of our inability to com- 
 prehend, sense seemed lost in a passage of incohesive 
 dreamery and resonancy of terminology, some of the 
 purest spiritual researches the world has ever known 
 were made in the dawn of history. The much abused 
 alchemical philosophers existed upon a plane, in some 
 respects above the level of the science of to-day. Many 
 of them lived for the good of the world only, in an atmos- 
 phere above the materialistic hordes that people the world, 
 and toiling over their crucibles and alembics, died in 
 their cells "uttering no voice." Take, for example, 
 Eirenaeus Philalethes, who, born in 1623, lived contem- 
 poraneously with Robert Boyle. A fragment from his 
 writings will illustrate the purpose which impelled the 
 searcher for the true light of alchemy to record his dis- 
 coveries in allegories, and we have no right to question 
 the honesty of his utterances : 
 
 "The Searcher of all hearts knows that I write the 
 truth ; nor is there any cause to accuse me of envy. I 
 write with an unterrified quill in an unheard-of style, to 
 the honor of God, to the profit of my neighbors, with 
 contempt of the world and its riches, because Elias, the 
 artist, is already born, and now glorious things are de- 
 clared of the city of God. I dare affirm that I do possess 
 more riches than the whole known world is worth, but I 
 cannot make use of it because of the snares of knaves. I 
 disdain, loathe, and detest the idolizing of silver and 
 
A Search for Knowledge 261 
 
 gold, by which the pomps and vanities of the world are 
 celebrated. Ah ! filthy evil ! Ah ! vain nothingness ! Be- 
 lieve ye that I conceal the art out of envy? No, verily, 
 I protest to you; I grieve from the very bottom of my 
 soul that we (alchemists) are driven like vagabonds 
 from the face of the Lord throughout the earth. But 
 what need of many words ? The thing that we have seen, 
 taught, and made, which we have, possess, and know, 
 that we do declare; being moved with compassion for 
 the studious, and with indignation of gold, silver, and 
 precious stones. Believe me, the time is at the door, I 
 feel it in spirit, when we, adeptists, shall return from the 
 four corners of the earth, nor shall we fear any snares 
 that are laid against our lives, but we shall give thanks 
 to the Lord our God. I would to God that every in- 
 genious man in the whole earth understood this science ; 
 then it would be valued only for its wisdom, and virtue 
 only would be had in honor." 
 
 Of course there was a more worldly class, and a large 
 contingent of mercenary impostors (as science is always 
 encumbered), parasites, whose animus was shamefully 
 unlike the purity of true esoteric psychologists. These 
 men devoted their lives to experimentation for selfish 
 advancement. They constructed alchemical outfits, and 
 carried on a ceaseless inquiry into the nature of solvents, 
 and studied their influences on earthly bodies, their ul- 
 timate object being the discovery of the Philosopher's 
 Stone, and the alkahest which Boerhaave asserts was 
 never discovered. Their records were often a verbose 
 melange, purposely so written, no doubt, to cover their 
 tracks, and to make themselves conspicuous. Other 
 Hermetic believers occupied a more elevated position, 
 and connected the intellectual with the material, hoping 
 to gain by their philosophy and science not only gold and 
 silver, which were secondary considerations, but the 
 highest literary achievement, the Magnum Opus. Others 
 still sought to draw from Astrology and Magic the secrets 
 
262 Etidorhpa 
 
 that would lead them to their ambitious goal. Thus there 
 were degrees of fineness in a fraternity, which the science 
 of to-day must recognize and admit. 
 
 Boerhaave, the illustrious, respected Geber, of the 
 alchemistic school, and none need feel compromised in 
 admiring the talented alchemists who, like Geber, 
 wrought in the twilight of morn for the coming world's 
 good. We are now enjoying a fragment of the ultimate 
 results of their genius and industry in the materialistic 
 outcomes of present-day chemistry, to be followed by 
 others more valuable ; and at last, when mankind is ripe 
 in the wisdom faculty, by spiritual contentment in the 
 complacent furtherings beyond. Allow me briefly to re- 
 fer to a few men of the alchemistic type whose records 
 may be considered with advantage. 
 
 Rhasis, a conspicuous alchemist, born in 850, first 
 mentioned orpiment, borax, compounds of iron, copper, 
 arsenic, and other similar substances. It is said, too, that 
 he discovered the art of making brandy. About a cen- 
 tury later, Alfarabe (killed in 950), a great alchemist, 
 astonished the King of Syria with his profound learning, 
 and excited the admiration of the wise men of the East 
 by his varied accomplishments. Later, Albertus Magnus 
 (born 1205), noted for his talent and skill, believed 
 firmly in the doctrine of transmutation. His beloved 
 pupil, Thomas Aquinas, gave us the word amalgam, and 
 it still serves us. Contemporaneously with these lived 
 Roger Bacon (born 1214), who was a man of most ex- 
 traordinary ability. There has never been a greater Eng- 
 lish intellect (not excepting his illustrious namesake, 
 Lord Bacon), and his penetrating mind delved deeper 
 into Nature's laws than that of any successor. He told 
 us of facts concerning the sciences, that scientific men 
 cannot fully comprehend to-day ; he told us of other 
 things that lie beyond the science provings of to-day, 
 that modern philosophers cannot grasp. He was an 
 enthusiastic believer in the Hermetic philosophy, and 
 
A Search for Knowledge 263 
 
 such were his erudition and advanced views, that his 
 brother friars, through jealousy and superstition, had 
 him thrown into prison — a common fate to men who in 
 those days dared to think ahead of their age. Despite 
 (as some would say) of his mighty reasoning power and 
 splendid attainments, he believed the Philosopher's Stone 
 to be a reality ; he believed the secret of indefinite pro- 
 longation of life abode in alchemy ; that the future could 
 be predicted by means of a mirror which he called 
 Almuchese, and that by alchemy an adept could produce 
 pure gold. Roger Bacon, 600 years ago, asserted that by 
 means of Aristotle's "Secret of Secrets," pure gold can 
 be made ; gold even purer and finer than what men now 
 know as gold. In connection with other predictions he 
 made an assertion that may with other seemingly unrea- 
 sonable predictions be verified in time to come. He said : 
 "It is equally possible to construct cars which may be 
 set in motion with marvellous rapidity, independently of 
 horses or other animals." He declared that the ancients 
 had done this, and he believed the art might be revived. 
 Following came various enthusiasts, such as Raymond, 
 the ephemeral (died 1315), who flared like a meteor into 
 his brief, brilliant career; Arnold de Villanova (1240), a 
 celebrated adept, whose books were burned by the In- 
 quisition on account of the heresy they taught ; Nicholas 
 Flamel, of France (1350), loved by the people for his 
 charities, the wonder of his age (our age will not admit 
 the facts) on account of the vast fortune he amassed 
 without visible means or income, outside of alchemical 
 lore ; Johannes de Rupecissus, a man of such remarkable 
 daring that in 1357, he even reprimanded Pope Innocent 
 VI., for which he was promptly imprisoned ; Basil 
 Valentine ( 1410), the author of many works, and the 
 man who introduced antimony (antimonaches) into 
 medicine ; Isaac, of Holland, who, with his son, skilfully 
 made artifical gems that could not be distinguished from 
 the natural; Bernard Trevison (born 1406), who spent 
 $30,000 in the study of alchemy, out of most of which 
 
264 Etidorhpa 
 
 he was cheated by cruel alchemic pretenders, for even in 
 that day there were plenty of rogues to counterfeit a 
 good thing. Under stress of his strong alchemic con- 
 victions, Thomas Dalton placed his head on the block by 
 order of the virtuous (?) and conservative Thomas 
 Herbert, 'squire to King Edward; Jacob Bohme (born 
 1575), the sweet, pure spirit of Christian mysticism, 
 "The Voice of Heaven," than whom none stood higher 
 in true alchemy, was a Christian, alchemist, theosophist ; 
 Robert Boyle, a conspicuous alchemical philosopher, in 
 1662 published his "Defence of the Doctrine touching the 
 Spring and Weight of the Air," and illustrated his 
 arguments by a series of ingenious and beautiful ex- 
 periments, that stand to-day so high in the estimation of 
 scientific men, that his remarks are copied verbatim by 
 our highest authorities, and his apparatus is the best yet 
 devised for the purpose. Boyle's "Law" was evolved 
 and carefully defined fourteen years before Mariotte's 
 "Discours de la Nature de 1' Air" appeared, which did 
 not, however, prevent French and German scientific men 
 from giving the credit to Mariotte, and they still follow 
 the false teacher who boldly pirated not only Boyle's 
 ideas, but stole his apparatus. 
 
 Then appeared such men as Paracelsus (born 1493), 
 the celebrated physician, who taught that occultism 
 (esoteric philosophy) was superior to experimental 
 chemistry in enlightening us concerning the transmuta- 
 tion of baser metals into gold and silver ; and Gueppo 
 Francisco (born 1627), who wrote a beautiful treatise on 
 "Elementary Spirits," which was copied without credit 
 by Compte de Gabalis. It seems incredible that the man 
 (Gueppo Francisco), whose sweet spirit-thoughts are 
 revivified and breathe anew in "Undine" and "The Rape 
 of the Lock," should have been thrown into a prison to 
 perish as a Hermetic follower; and this should teach us 
 not to question the earnestness of those who left us as a 
 legacy the beauty and truth so abundantly found in pure 
 alchemy. 
 
A Search for Knowledge 265 
 
 These and many others, contemporaries, some con- 
 spicuous, and others whose names do not shine in written 
 history, contributed incalculably to the grand aggregate 
 of knowledge concerning the divine secret which en- 
 riched the world. Compare the benefits of Hermetic phi- 
 losophy with the result of bloody wars ambitiously 
 waged by self-exacting tyrants — tyrants whom history 
 applauds as heroes, but whom we consider as butchers. 
 Among the workers in alchemy are enumerated nobles, 
 kings, and even popes. Pope John XXII. was an 
 alchemist, which accounts for his bull against impostors, 
 promulgated in order that true students might not be 
 discredited ; and King Frederick of Naples sanctioned 
 the art, and protected its devotees. 
 
 At last, Count Cagliostro, the checkered "Joseph 
 Balsamo" (born 1743), who combined alchemy, magic, 
 astrology, sleight of hand, mesmerism. Free Masonry, 
 and remarkable personal accomplishments, that alto- 
 gether have never since been equalled, burst upon the 
 world. Focusing the gaze of the Church, kings, and the 
 commons upon himself, in many respects the most 
 audacious pretender that history records, he raised the 
 Hermetic art to a dazzling height, and finally buried it 
 in a blaze of splendor as he passed from existence beneath 
 a mantle of shame. As a meteor streams into view from 
 out the star mists of space, and in corruscating glory 
 sinks into the sea, Cagliostro blazed into the sky of the 
 eighteenth century, from the nebulae of alchemistic specu- 
 lation, and extinguished both himself and his science in 
 the light of the rising sun of materialism. Cagliostro, the 
 visionary, the poet, the inspired, the erratic comet in the 
 universe of intellect, perished in prison as a mountebank, 
 and then the plodding chemist of to-day, with his tedious 
 mechanical methods, and cold, unresponsive, materialis- 
 tic dogmas, arose from the ashes and sprang into 
 prominence. 
 
 Read the story backward, and you shall see that in 
 
266 Etidorhpa 
 
 alchemy we behold the beginning of all the sciences of to- 
 day ; alchemy is the cradle that rocked them. Fostered 
 with necromancy, astrology, occultism, and all the prog- 
 eny of mystic dreamery, the infant sciences struggled 
 for existence through the dark ages, in care of the once 
 persecuted and now traduced alchemist. The world 
 owes a monument to-day more to Hermetic heroes than 
 to all other influences and instrumentalities combined, re- 
 ligion excepted, for our present civilization is largely 
 a legacy from the alchemist. Begin with Hermes 
 Trismegistus, and close with Joseph Balsamo, and if you 
 are inclined toward science, do not criticise too severely 
 their verbal logorrhea, and their romanticism, for your 
 science is treading backward ; it will encroach upon their 
 field again, and you may have to unsay your words of 
 hasty censure. These men fulfilled their mission, and did 
 it well. If they told more than men now think they 
 knew, they also knew more than they told, and more than 
 modern philosophy embraces. They covild not live to 
 see all the future they eagerly hoped for, but they started 
 a future for mankind that will far exceed in sweetness 
 and light the most entrancing visions of their most 
 imaginative dreamers. They spoke of the existence of 
 a "red elixir," and while they wrote, the barbarous world 
 about them ran red with blood — blood of the pure in 
 heart, blood of the saints, blood of a Saviour; and their 
 allegory and wisdom formulse were recorded in blood of 
 their own sacrifices. They dreamed of a "white elixir" 
 that is yet to bless mankind, and a brighter day for man, 
 a period of peace, happiness, long life, contentment, good 
 will and brotherly love, and in the name of this "white 
 elixir" they directed the world toward a vision of divine 
 light. Even pure gold, as they told the materialistic 
 world who worship gold, was penetrated and whelmed 
 by this subtle, superlatively refined spirit of matter. Is 
 not the day of the allegorical "white elixir" near at hand? 
 Would that it were ! 
 
A Search for Knowledge 267 
 
 I say to you now, brothers of the eighteenth century, 
 as one speaking by authority to you, cease (some of you) 
 to study this entrancing past, look to the future by grasp- 
 ing the present, cast aside (some of you) the alchemical 
 lore of other days, give up your loved allegories ; it is a 
 duty, you must relinquish them. There is a richer field. 
 Do not delay. Unlock this mystic door that stands 
 hinged and ready, waiting the touch of men who can in- 
 terpret the talisman ; place before mankind the knowl- 
 edge that lies behind its rivets. In the secret lodges that 
 have preserved the wisdom of the days of Enoch and 
 Elias of Egypt, who propagated the Egyptian Order, a 
 branch of your ancient brotherhood, is to be found con- 
 cealed much knowledge that should now be spread before 
 the world, and added to the treasures of our circle of 
 adepts. This cabalistic wisdom is not recorded in books 
 nor in manuscript, but has been purposely preserved from 
 the uninitiated, in the unreadable brains of unresponsive 
 men. Those who are selected to act as carriers thereof 
 are, as a rule, like dumb water bearers, or the dead sheet 
 of paper that mechanically preserves an inspiration de- 
 rived from minds unseen : they serve a purpose as a child 
 mechanically commits to memory a blank verse to repeat 
 to others, who in turn commit to repeat again — neither 
 of them speaking understandingly. Search ye these 
 hidden paths, for the day of mental liberation approaches, 
 and publish to the world all that is locked within the 
 doors of that antiquated organization. The world is 
 nearly ripe for the wisdom faculty, and men are ready 
 to unravel the golden threads that mystic wisdom has in- 
 woven in her web of secret knowledge. Look for knowl- 
 edge where I have indicated, and to gain it do not hesi- 
 tate to swear allegiance to this sacred order, for so you 
 must do to gain entrance to the brotherhood, and then 
 you must act what men will call the traitor. You will, 
 however, be doing a sacred duty, for the world will profit, 
 humanity will be the gainer, "Peace on Earth, Good Will 
 to Man," will be closer to mankind, and at last, when the 
 
268 Etidorhpa 
 
 sign appears, the "white ehxir" will no longer be al- 
 legorical ; it will become a reality. In the name of the 
 Great Mystic Vase Man, go thou into these lodges, learn 
 of their secrets, and spread their treasures before those 
 who can interpret them. 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 VITALIZED DARKNESS. THE NARROWS IN SCIENCE. 
 
 (In which the mysterious companion of I-Am-The-Man dis- 
 cusses several problems connected with life and affairs.) 
 
 "In studying any branch of science men begin and end 
 with an unknown. The chemist accepts as data such con- 
 ditions of matter as he finds about him, and connects pon- 
 derable matter with the displays of energy that have 
 impressed his senses, building therefrom a span of 
 theoretical science, but he cannot formulate as yet an ex- 
 planation regarding the origin or the end of either mind, 
 matter or energy. The piers supporting his fabric stand 
 in a profound invisible gulf, into which even his imagina- 
 tion cannot look to form a theory concerning basic 
 formations — corner-stones. 
 
 "The geologist, in a like manner, grasps feebly the 
 lessons left in the superficial fragments of earth strata, 
 impressions that remain to bear imperfect record of a 
 few of the disturbances that have affected the earth's 
 crust, and he endeavors to formulate a story of the 
 world's life, but he is neither able to antedate the records 
 shown by the meagre testimony at his command, scraps 
 of a leaf out of God's great book of history, nor to antic- 
 ipate coming events. The birth, as well as the death, of 
 this planet is beyond his page. 
 
 "The astronomer directs his telescope to the heavens, 
 records the position of the planets, and hopes to discover 
 the influences worlds exert upon one another. He ex- 
 plores space to obtain data to enable him to delineate a 
 map of the visible solar universe, but the instruments he 
 has at command are so imperfect, and mind is so feeble, 
 that like mockery seems his attempt to study behind the 
 
270 Etidorhpa 
 
 facts connected with the motions and simplest conditions 
 of the nearest heavenly bodies, and he cannot offer an 
 explanation of the beginning or cessation of their move- 
 ments. He can neither account for their existence nor 
 foretell their end." 
 
 "Are you not mistaken ?" I interrupted ; "does not the 
 astronomer foretell eclipses, and calculate the orbits of 
 the planets, and has he not verified predictions concern- 
 ing their several motions?" 
 
 "Yes ; but this is simply a study of passing events. 
 The astronomer is no more capable of grasping an idea 
 that reaches into an explanation of the origin of motion 
 than the chemist or physicist, from exact scientific data, 
 can account for the creation of matter. Give him any 
 amount of material at rest, and he cannot conceive of any 
 method by which motion can disturb any part of it, unless 
 such motion be mass motion communicated from without 
 or molecular motion, already existing within. He ac- 
 counts for the phases of present motion in heavenly 
 bodies, not for the primal cause of the actual movements 
 or intrinsic properties they possess. He can neither 
 originate a theory that will permit of motion creating 
 itself, and imparting itself to quiescent matter, nor 
 imagine how an atom of quiescent matter can be moved, 
 unless motion from without be communicated thereto. 
 The astronomer, I assert, can neither from any data at 
 his command postulate nor prove the beginning nor the 
 end of the reverberating motion that exists in his solar 
 system, which is itself the fragment of a system that is 
 circulating and revolving in and about itself, and in 
 which, since the birth of man, the universe he knows 
 has not passed the first milestone in the road that uni- 
 verse is travelling in space immensity. 
 
 "The mathematician starts a line from an imaginary 
 point that he informs us exists theoretically without oc- 
 cupying any space, which is a contradiction of terms 
 according to his human acceptation of knowledge derived 
 from scientific experiment, if science is based on verified 
 
Vitalized Darkness 271 
 
 facts. He assumes that straight hnes exist, which is a 
 necessity for his calculation ; but such a line he has never 
 made. Even the beam of sunshine, radiating through a 
 clear atmosphere or a cloud bank, widens, deflects and 
 contracts as it progresses through the various mediums 
 of air and vapor currents, and if it is ever spreading and 
 deflecting can it be straight? He begins his study in the 
 unknown, it ends with the unknowable. 
 
 "The biologist can conceive of no rational, scientific 
 beginning to life of plant or animal, and men of science 
 must admit the fact. Whenever we turn our attention to 
 Nature's laws and Nature's substance, we find man sur- 
 rounded by the infinity that obscures the origin and 
 covers the end. But perserverance, study of Nature's 
 forces, and comparison of the past with the present, will 
 yet clarify human knowledge and make plain much of 
 this seemingly mysterious, but never will man reach the 
 beginning or the end. The course of human education, 
 to this day, has been mostly materialistic, although, 
 together with the study of matter, there has been more 
 or less attention given to its moving spirit. Newton was 
 the dividing light in scientific thought ; he stepped be- 
 tween the reasonings of the past and the provings of the 
 present, and introduced problems that gave birth to a 
 new scientific tendency, a change from the study of mat- 
 ter from the material side to that of force and matter, but 
 his thought has since been carried out in a mode too 
 realistic by far. The study of material bodies has given 
 way, it is true, in a few cases to the study of the spirit of 
 matter, and evolution is beginning to teach men that 
 matter is crude. As a result, thought and reflection will 
 in its sequence yet show that modifications of energy ex- 
 pression are paramount to inert matter. This work is 
 not lost, however, for the consideration of the nature of 
 sensible material is preliminary and necessary to pro- 
 gression (as the life of the savage prepares the way for 
 that of the cultivated student), and is a meagre and 
 primitive child's effort, compared with the richness of the 
 
272 Etidorhpa 
 
 study in unseen energy expressions that are linked with 
 matter, of which men will yet learn." 
 
 "I comprehend some of this," I replied ; "but I am 
 neither prepared to assent to nor dissent from your con- 
 clusions, and my mind is not clear as to whether your 
 logic is good or bad. I am more ready to speak plainly 
 about my own peculiar situation than to become absorbed 
 in abstruse arguments in science, and I marvel more at 
 the soft light that is here surrounding us than at the 
 metaphysical reasoning in which you indulge." 
 
 "The child ignorant of letters wonders at the resources 
 of those who can spell and read, and, in like manner, 
 many obscure natural phenomena are marvellous to man 
 only because of his ignorance. You do not comprehend 
 the fact that sunlight is simply a matter-bred expression, 
 an outburst of interrupted energy, and that the modi- 
 fication this energy undergoes makes it visible or sensible 
 to man. What, think you, becomes of the flood of light 
 energy that unceasingly flows from the sun? For ages, 
 for an eternity, it has bathed this earth and seemingly 
 streamed into space, and space, it would seem, must have 
 long since have been filled with it, if, as men believe, 
 space contains energy of any description. Man may say 
 the earth casts the amount intercepted by it back into 
 space, and yet does not your science teach that the great 
 bulk of the earth is an absorber, and a poor radiator of 
 light and heat ? What think you, I repeat, becomes of the 
 torrent of light and heat and other forces that radiate 
 from the sun, the flood that strikes the earth? It dis- 
 appears, and, in the economy of Nature, is not replaced 
 by any known force or any known motion of matter. 
 Think you that earth substance really presents an 
 obstacle to the passage of the sun's energy? Is it not 
 probable that most of this light-producing essence, as a 
 subtle fluid, passes through the surface of the earth and 
 into its interior, as light does through space, and returns 
 thence to the sun again, in a condition not discernible by 
 man?" He grasped my arm and squeezed it as though 
 
Vitalized Darkness 273 
 
 to emphasize the words to follow. "You have used the 
 term sunshine freely; tell me what is sunshine? Ah! 
 you do not reply ; well, what evidence have you to show 
 that sunshine (heat and light) is not earth-bred, a con- 
 dition that exists locally only, the result of contact be- 
 tween matter and some unknown force expression? 
 What reason have you for accepting that, to other forms 
 unknown and yet transparent to this energy, your sun- 
 shine may not be as intangible as the ether of space is to 
 man ? What reason have you to believe that a force tor- 
 rent is not circulating to and from the sun and earth, 
 inappreciable to man, excepting the mere trace of this 
 force which, modified by contact action with matter ap- 
 pears as heat, light and other force expressions? How 
 can I, if this is true, in consideration of your ignorance, 
 enter into details explanatory of the action that takes 
 place between matter and a portion of this force, whereby 
 in the earth, first at the surface, darkness is produced, 
 and then deeper down an earth light that man can per- 
 ceive by the sense of sight, such as you now realize? I 
 will only say that this luminous appearance about us is 
 produced by a natural law, whereby the flood of energy, 
 invisible to man, a something clothed now under the 
 name of darkness, after streaming into the crust sub- 
 stance of the earth, is at its depth, revivified, and then 
 is made apparent to mortal eye, to be modified again as 
 it emerges from the opposite earth crust, but not an- 
 nihilated. For my vision, however, this central light is 
 not a necessity ; my physical and mental development is 
 such that the energy of darkness is communicable ; I can 
 respond to its touches on my nerves, and hence I can 
 guide you in this dark cavern. I am all eye." 
 
 "Ah !" I exclaimed, "that reminds me of a remark 
 made by my former guide, who, referring to the instinct 
 of animals, spoke of that as a natural power undeveloped 
 in man. Is it true that by mental cultivation a new sense 
 can be evolved whereby darkness may become as light?" 
 
 "Yes ; that which you call light is a form of sensible 
 
274 Etidorhpa 
 
 energy to which the faculties of animals who live on the 
 surface of the earth have become adapted, through their 
 organs of sight. The sun's energy is modified when it 
 strikes the surface of the earth ; part is reflected, but most 
 of it passes onward into the earth's substance, in an al- 
 tered or disturbed condition. Animal organisms within 
 the earth must possess a peculiar development to utilize 
 it under its new form, but such a sense is really possessed 
 in a degree by some creatures known to men. There is 
 consciousness behind consciousness ; there are grades and 
 depths of consciousness. Earth worms and some fishes 
 and reptiles in underground streams (lower organ- 
 izations, men call them) do not use the organ of sight, 
 but recognize objects, seek their food, and flee from their 
 enemies." 
 
 "They have no eyes," I exclaimed, forgetting that I 
 spoke to an eyeless being; "how can they see?" 
 
 "You should reflect that man cannot ofl"er a satisfac- 
 tory explanation of the fact that he can see with his eyes. 
 In one respect these so-called lower creatures are higher 
 in the scale of life than man is, for they see (appreciate) 
 without eyes. The surfaces of their bodies really are 
 sources of perception and seats of consciousness. Man 
 must yet learn to see with his skin, taste with his fingers, 
 and hear with the surface of his body. The dissected 
 nerve, or the pupil of man's eye, offers to the physiolog- 
 ist no explanation of its intrinsic power. Is not man un- 
 fortunate in having to risk so much on so frail an organ ? 
 The physiologist cannot tell why or how the nerve of the 
 tongue can distinguish between bitter and sweet, or convey 
 any impression of taste, or why the nerve of the ear com- 
 municates sound, or the nerve of the eye communicates 
 the impression of sight. There is an impassable barrier 
 behind all forms of nerve impressions, that neither the 
 microscope nor other methods of investigation can help 
 the reasoning senses of man to remove. The void that 
 separates the pulp of the material nerve from conscious- 
 ness is broader than the solar universe, for even from 
 
Vitalized Darkness 275 
 
 the most distant known star we can imagine the never- 
 ending flight of a ray of light, that has once started on 
 its travels into space. Can any man outline the bridge 
 that connects the intellect with nerve, or brain or mind, 
 or with any form of matter ? The fact that the surface of 
 the bodies of some animals is capable of performing the 
 same functions for these animals that the eye of man per- 
 forms for him, is not more mysterious than is the function 
 of that eye itself. The term darkness is an expression used 
 to denote the fact that to the brain which governs the 
 eye of man, what man calls the absence of light, is un- 
 recognizable. If men were more magnanimous and less 
 egotistical, they would open their minds to the fact that 
 some animals really possess certain senses that are better 
 developed than they are in man. The teachers of men 
 too often tell the little they know and neglect the great 
 unseen. The cat tribe, some night birds, and many rep- 
 tiles can see better in darkness than in daylight. Let man 
 compare with the nerve expanse of his own eye that of 
 the highly developed eye of any such creature, and he 
 will understand that the difference is one of brain or in- 
 tellect, and not altogether one of optical vision surface. 
 When men are able to explain how light can affect the 
 nerves of their own eyes and produce such an effect on 
 distant brain tissues as to bring to his senses objects that 
 he is not touching, he may be able to explain how the 
 energy in darkness can affect the nerve of the eye in the 
 owl and impress vision on the brain of that creature. 
 Should not man's inferior sense of light lead him to ques- 
 tion if, instead of deficient visual power, there be not a 
 deficiency of the brain capacity of man? Instead of ac- 
 cepting that the eye of man is incapable of receiving the 
 impression of night energy, and making no endeavor to 
 improve himself in the direction of his imperfection, man 
 should reflect whether or not his brain may, by proper 
 cultivation or artificial stimulus, be yet developed so as 
 to receive yet deeper nerve impressions, thereby chang- 
 ing darkness into daylight. Until man can explain the 
 
276 Etidorhpa 
 
 modus operandi of the senses he now possesses, he cannot 
 consistently question the existence of a different sight 
 power in other beings, and existing conditions that can- 
 not be questioned should lead him to hope for a yet 
 higher development in himself." 
 
 "This dissertation is interesting, very," I said. "Al- 
 thovigh inclined toward agnosticism, my ideas of a pos- 
 sible future in consciousness that lies before mankind are 
 broadened. I therefore accept your reasoning, perhaps 
 because I cannot refute it." 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE FOOD OF MAN. 
 
 (Wherein the captor guide of I-Am-The-Man teaches that 
 matter is not food, but a carrier of energy which supports life.) 
 
 "This leads me to remark," answered the eyeless seer, 
 "that you speak without due consideration of previous 
 experience. You are, or should be, aware of other and 
 as marked differences in food products of upper earth, 
 induced by climate, soil and cultivation. The potato 
 which, next to wheat, rice, or corn, you know supplies 
 nations of men with starchy food, originated as a wild 
 weed in South America and Mexico, where it yet exists 
 as a small, watery, marble-like tuber, and its nearest 
 kindred, botanically, is still poisonous. The luscious 
 apple reached its present excellence by slow stages from 
 knotty, wild, astringent fruit, to which it again returns 
 when it escapes from cultivation. The cucumber is a 
 near cousin of the griping, medicinal cathartic bitter- 
 apple, or colocynth, and occasionally partakes yet of the 
 properties that result from that unfortunate alliance, as 
 too often exemplified to persons who do not peel it deep 
 enough to remove the bitter, cathartic principle that 
 exists near the surface. Oranges, in their wild con- 
 dition, are bitter, and are used principally as medicinal 
 agents. Asparagus was once a weed, native to the salty 
 edges of the sea, and as this weed has become a food, so 
 it is possible for other wild weeds yet to do. Buckwheat 
 is a weed proper, and not a cereal, and birds have learned 
 that the seeds of many other weeds are even preferable 
 to wheat. The wild parsnip is a poison, and the parsnip 
 of cultivation relapses quickly into its natural condition 
 if allowed to escape and roam again. The root of the 
 
278 Etidorhpa 
 
 tapioca plant contains a volatile poison, and is deadly ; 
 but when that same root is properly prepared, it becomes 
 the wholesome food, tapioca. The nut of the African 
 anacardium (cashew nut) contains a nourishing kernel 
 that is eaten as food by the natives, and yet a drop of the 
 juice of the oily shell placed on the skin will blister and 
 produce terrible inflammations ; only those expert in the 
 removal of the kernel dare partake of the food. The 
 berry of the herhcris vulgaris is a pleasant acid fruit ; the 
 bough that bears it is intensely bitter. Such examples 
 might be multiplied indefinitely, but I have cited enough 
 to illustrate the fact that neither the difiference in size 
 and structure of the species in the mushroom forest 
 through which we are passing, nor the conditions of these 
 bodies, as compared with those you formerly knew, need 
 excite your astonishment. Cultivate a potato in your 
 former home so that the growing tuber is exposed to 
 sunshine, and it becomes green and acrid, and strongly 
 virulent. Cultivate the spores of the intra-earth fungi 
 about us, on the face of the earth, and although now all 
 parts of the plants are edible, the species will degenerate, 
 and may even become poisonous. They lose their flavor 
 under such unfavorable conditions, and although some 
 species still retain vitality enough to resist poisonous de- 
 generation, they dwindle in size, and adapt themselves 
 to new and unnatural conditions. They have all degen- 
 erated. This fungoid forest could feed a multitude. It is 
 probable that in the time to come, when man deserts the 
 bleak earth surface, as he will some day be forced to do, 
 as has been the case in frozen planets that are not now in- 
 habited on the outer crust, nations will march through 
 these spaces on their way from the dreary outside earth 
 to the delights of the salubrious inner sphere. Here then, 
 when that day of necessity appears, as it surely will come 
 under inflexible climatic changes that will control the 
 destiny of outer earth life, these constantly increasing 
 stores, adapted to nourish humanity, will be found ac- 
 cumulated and ready for food. You have already eaten 
 
The Food of Man 279 
 
 of them, for the variety of food with which I suppHed 
 you has been selected from different portions of these 
 nourishing products which, flavored and salted, ready 
 for use as food, stand intermediate between animal and 
 vegetable, supplying the place of both." 
 
 My instructor placed both hands on my shoulders, and 
 in silence I stood gazing intently into his face. Then, 
 in a smooth, captivating, entrancing manner, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "Can you not see that food is not matter? The 
 material part of bread is carbon, water, gas and earth ; 
 the material part of fat is charcoal and gas ; the material 
 part of flesh is water and gas ; the material part of fruits 
 is mostly water with a little charcoal and gas.* The 
 material constituents of all foods are plentiful, they 
 abound everywhere, and yet amid the unlimited, un- 
 organized materials that 0*0 to form foods, man would 
 starve. 
 
 "Give a healthy man a diet made of charcoal, water, 
 salts, and air ; say to him, 'Bread contains no other sub- 
 stance, here is bread, the material food of man, live on 
 this food,' and yet the man, if he eat of these, will die. 
 So with all other foods ; give man the unorganized 
 materialistic constituents of food in unlimited amounts, 
 and starvation results. No ! matter is not food, but a 
 carrier of food." 
 
 "What is food?" 
 
 "Sunshine. The grain of wheat is a food by virtue of 
 the sunshine fixed within it. The flesh of animals, all 
 foods of living creatures, are simply carriers of sunshine 
 energy. Break out the sunshine, and you destroy the 
 food, although the material remains. The growing plant 
 locks the sunshine in its cells, and the living animal takes 
 
 *By the term gas, it is evident that hydrogen and nitrogen were 
 designated, and yet, since the instructor insists that other gases 
 form part of the atmosphere (discovered after Etidorhpa was 
 published), so he may consistently imply that unknown gases are 
 parts of food. — J. U. L. 
 
2 8o Etidorhpa 
 
 it out again. Hence it is that after the sunshine of any 
 food is Hberated during the metamorphosis of the tissues 
 of an animal, ahhough the material part of the food re- 
 mains, it is no longer a food, but becomes a poison, and 
 then if it is not promptly eliminated from the animal, 
 it will destroy the life of the animal. This material be- 
 comes then injurious, but it is still material. 
 
 "The farmer plants a seed in the soil, the sunshine 
 sprouts it, nourishes the growing plant, and during the 
 season locks itself to and within its tissues, binding the 
 otherwise dead materials of that tissue together into an 
 organized structure. Animals eat these structures, break 
 them from higher to lower compounds, and in doing so 
 live on the stored-up sunshine and then excrete the 
 worthless material side of the food. The farmer spreads 
 these excluded substances over the earth again to once 
 more take up the sunshine in the coming plant organ- 
 ization, but not until it does once more lock in its cells 
 the energy of sunshine can it be a food for that animal." 
 
 "Is manure a food?" he abruptlv asked. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Is not manure matter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "May it not become a food again, as the part of an- 
 other plant, when another season passes?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "In what else than energy (sunshine) does it differ 
 from food?" 
 
 "Water is a necessity," I said. 
 
 "And locked in each molecule of water there is a mine 
 of sunshine. Liberate suddenly the sun energy^ from the 
 gases of the ocean held in subjection thereby, and the 
 earth would disappear in an explosion that would re- 
 verberate throughout the universe. The water that you 
 truly claim to be necessary to the life of man is itself 
 water by the grace of this same sun, for without its heat 
 water would be ice, dry as dust. Tis the sun that gives 
 life and motion to animate creatures and inanimated sub- 
 
The Food of Man 281 
 
 stances ; he who doubts distrusts his Creator. Food and 
 drink are only carriers of bits of assimilable sunshine. 
 When the fire worshippers kneeled to their god, the sun, 
 they worshipped the great food reservoir of man. When 
 they drew the quivering entrails from the body of a 
 sacrificed victim they gave back to their God a spark of 
 sunshine — it was due sooner or later. They builded well 
 in thus recognizing the source of all life, and yet they 
 acted badly, for God asks no premature sacrifice, the in- 
 evitable must soon occur, and as all organic life comes 
 from that Sun-God, so back to that Creator the sun- 
 spark must fly." 
 
 "But they are heathen ; there is a God beyond their 
 narrow conception of God." 
 
 "As there is also a God in the Beyond, past your idea 
 of God. Perhaps to beings of higher mentalities, we may 
 be heathen ; but even if this is so, duty demands that we 
 revere the God within our intellectural sphere. Let us not 
 digress further; and again I say to you the food of man 
 and the organic life of man is sunshine." 
 
 He ceased, and I reflected upon his words. All he had 
 said seemed so consistent that I could not deny its plaus- 
 ibility, and yet it still appeared altogether unlikely as 
 viewed in the light of my previous earth knowledge. I 
 did not quite comprehend all the semi-scientific ex- 
 pressions, but was at least certain that I could neither 
 disprove nor verify his propositions. My thoughts 
 wandered aimlessly, and I found myself questioning 
 whether man could be prevailed upon to live contentedly 
 in situations such as I was now passing through. In 
 company with my learned and philosophical but fantas- 
 tically created guardian and monitor, I moved on. 
 
CHAPTER XLVIL 
 
 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST PROVES HIS STATEMENT. 
 
 ( In whicli the unwelcome guest, I-Am-The-Man, confronts 
 Llewellyn Drury with some unexpected experiments.) 
 
 On the following evening my persevering teacher ap- 
 peared punctually, and displayed a few glass tubes and 
 some blotting or bibulous paper. 
 
 "I will first show you that liquids may change their 
 levels in seeming opposition to the laws of men, not con- 
 trary to Nature's laws ; however, let me lead to the ex- 
 periments by a statement of facts, that, if you question, 
 you can investigate at any time. If two vessels of water 
 be connected by a channel from the bottom of each, the 
 water surfaces will come to a common level." 
 
 He selected a curved glass tube, and poured water into 
 it. The water assumed the position 
 shown in Figure ii. 
 
 "You have not shown me any- 
 thing new," I said ; "my text-books 
 taught me this." 
 
 "True, I have but exhibited that 
 which is the foundation of your 
 philosophy regarding the surface of 
 liquids. Let me proceed : 
 
 "If we pour a solution of com- 
 mon salt into such a U tube, as I do 
 now, you perceive that it also rises 
 to the same level in both ends." 
 "Of course it does." 
 
 "Do not interrupt me. Into one arm of the tube con- 
 taining the brine I now carefully pour pure water. You 
 observe that the surfaces do not seek the same level." 
 (Figure 12.) 
 
 "Certainly not," I said ; "the weight of the liquid in 
 
 Fig. II.— a a, water in 
 tube seeks a level. 
 
Unbidden Guest Proves his Statement 283 
 
 ^^==? 
 
 Fig. 
 
 12.— A, surface 
 water, 
 surface 
 
 B, 
 
 of 
 
 of 
 
 brine. 
 
 each arm is the same, however ; the columns balance each 
 other." 
 
 "Exactly ; and on this assumption you base your as- 
 sertion that connected liquids of the 
 same gravity must always seek a 
 common level, but you see from this 
 test that if two liquids of differ- 
 ent gravities be connected from be- 
 neath, the surface of the lighter one 
 will assume a higher level than the 
 surface of the heavier." 
 
 "Agreed ; however tortuous the 
 channel that connects them, such 
 must be the case." 
 
 "Is it not supposable," said he, 
 "that there might be two pockets 
 in the earth, one containmg 
 salt water, the other fresh water, 
 
 which, if joined together, might be represented by such 
 a figure as this, wherein the water surface would be 
 raised above that of the brine? And he drew upon the 
 paper the accompanying diagram. (Figure 13.) 
 
 "Yes," I admitted ; 
 "providing, of course, 
 there was an equal pres- 
 sure of air on the surface 
 of each." 
 
 "Now I shall draw a 
 figure in which one pocket 
 is above the other, 
 and ask you to imagine 
 that in the lower pocket 
 we have pure water, in 
 the upper pocket brine 
 (Figure 14) ; can you bring any theory of your law to 
 bear upon these liquids so that by connecting them to- 
 gether the water will rise and run into the brine ?" 
 
 "No," I replied ; "connect them, and then the brine will 
 flow into the water." 
 
 Fig. 13. — B, surface of brine. 
 W, surface of water. 
 S, sand strata connecting 
 them. 
 
284 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 Fig. 14. 
 
 Fig. 
 
 14. 
 
 "Upon the contrary," he said ; "connect them, as in- 
 numerable cavities in the earth are joined, and the water 
 
 will flow into the brine." 
 "The assertion is op- 
 posed to applied philos- 
 
 ophy and common 
 sense," I said. 
 
 "Where ignorance is 
 bliss, 'tis folly to be 
 wise, you know to be a 
 maxim with mortals," he 
 replied ; "but I must par- 
 don you ; your dogmatic 
 education narrows your 
 judgment. I now will 
 prove you in error." 
 
 He took from his 
 pocket two slender glass 
 tubes, about an eighth of 
 an inch in bore and 
 four inches in length, 
 each closed at one end, and stood them in a perforated 
 cork that he placed upon the table. 
 
 Into one tube he poured water, and then 
 dissolving some salt in a cup, poured brine 
 into the other, filling both nearly to the top. 
 (Figure 15.) Next he produced a short 
 curved glass tube, to each end of which was 
 attached a strip of flexible rubber tubing. 
 Then, from a piece of blotting-paper such as 
 is used to blot ink, he cut a narrow strip and 
 passed it through the arrangement, forming 
 the apparatus represented by Figure 16. 
 
 Then he inserted the two tubes (Figure 
 15) into the rubber, the extremities of the 
 paper being submerged in the liquids, pro- 
 ducing a combination that rested upright in 
 the cork, as shown by Figure 17. 
 
 The surfaces of both liquids were at once lowered by 
 
 -B, brine. 
 W, water. 
 S, sand stratum. 
 (The difference in altitude is some- 
 what exaggerated to make the phe. 
 nomenon clear. A syphon might result 
 under such circumstances.— L.) 
 
 Fig. 15. 
 
 A, A, glass 
 tubes. 
 
 F, brine sur- 
 face. 
 
 E. water sur- 
 face. 
 
Unbidden Guest Proves his Statement 285 
 
 B, curved glass 
 
 tube. 
 C C, rubber 
 
 tubes. 
 
 D D D, bibu- 
 lous paper. 
 
 reason of the suction of the bibulous paper, the water 
 decreasing most rapidly, and soon the creeping liquids 
 met by absorption in the paper, the point of 
 contact, as the liquids met, being plainly dis- 
 cernible. Now the old man gently slid the 
 tubes vipon each other, raising one a little, 
 so as to bring the surfaces of the two liquids 
 exactly on a plane ; he then marked the glass 
 at the surface of each with a pen. 
 
 "Observe the result," he remarked as he 
 replaced the tubes in the cork with their 
 liquid surfaces on a line. 
 
 Together we sat and watched, and soon it 
 became apparent that the surface of the 
 water had decreased in height as compared 
 with that of the brine. By fixing my gaze on 
 the inkmark on theglass I also observedthat 
 
 the brine in the opposing tube was rising. 
 "I will call to-morrow evening," he said, 
 "and we shall then discover which is true, 
 man's theory or Nature's practice." 
 
 Within a short time enough of the water 
 in the tube had been transferred to the brine 
 to raise its surface considerably above its 
 former level, the surface of the water being 
 lowered to a greater degree. (Figure 18.) 
 I was discomfited at the result, and upon his 
 appearance next evening peevishly said to 
 the experimenter : 
 
 "I do not know that this is fair." 
 "Have I not demonstrated that, by prop- 
 erly connecting the liquids, the lighter flows 
 into the heavier, and raises itself above the 
 former surface ?" 
 
 "Yes ; but there is no porous paper in the 
 earth." 
 
 "True ; I used this medium because it was 
 convenient. There are, however, vast sub- 
 
 FlG. 17. 
 
 A A, glass 
 
 tubes. 
 B, curved glass 
 
 tube. 
 C C, rubber 
 
 tubes. 
 
 D, bi b ul o u s 
 paper. 
 
 E, water sur" 
 face. 
 
 F, brine sur- 
 face. 
 
286 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 terranean beds of porous materials, stone, satid, clay, 
 various other earths, many of which will answer the 
 same purpose. By perfectly natural laws, on a large 
 scale, such molecular transfer of liquids is 
 constantly taking place within the earth, and 
 in these phenomena the law of gravitation 
 seems ignored, and the rule which man be- 
 lieves from narrow experience governs the 
 flow of liquids is reversed. The arched por- 
 ous medium always transfers the lighter 
 liquid into the heavier until its surface is 
 raised considerably above that of the light 
 one. In the same way you can demonstrate 
 that alcohol passes into water, sulphuric 
 ether into alcohol, and other miscible light 
 liquids into those heavier." 
 
 "I have seen you exemplify the statement 
 on a small scale, with water and brine, and 
 cannot question but that it is true on a large 
 one," I replied. 
 "So you admit that the assertion governing the sur- 
 faces of liquids is true only when the liquids are con- 
 nected from beneath. In other words, your thought is 
 one-sided, as science thought often is." 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Now as to the beds of salt deep within the earth. 
 You are also mistaken concerning their origin. The 
 water of the ocean that runs through an open channel 
 from the one side may flow into an underground lake, 
 that by means of the contact action (suction) of the over- 
 lying and surrounding strata is being continually 
 em.ptied of its water, but not its salt. Thus by absorption 
 of water the brine of the lake becomes in time saturated, 
 starting crystallization regularly over the floor and sides 
 of the basin. Eventually the entire cavity is filled with 
 salt, and a solid mass of rock salt remains. If, however, 
 before the lake becomes solid, the brine supply is shut off 
 by some natural cause, as by salt crystals closing the 
 
 Fig. i8. 
 
 E, water sur- 
 face. 
 
 F, brine sur- 
 face. 
 
Unbidden Guest Proves his Statement 287 
 
 passage thereto, the underground lake is at last drained 
 of its water, the salt crystallizing over the bottom, and 
 upon the cliffs, leaving great crevices through the saline 
 deposits, as chances to have been the case with the salt 
 formations through which I passed with my guide, and 
 have recently described to you." 
 
 "Even now I have my doubts as to the correctness of 
 your explanations, especially concerning the liquid sur- 
 faces." 
 
 "They are facts, however ; liquids capable of being 
 mixed, if connected by porous arches (bibulous paper is 
 convenient for illustrating by experiment) reverse the 
 rule men have accepted to explain the phenomena of 
 liquid equilibrium, for I repeat, the lighter one rushes 
 into that which is heavier, and the surface of the heavier 
 liquid rises. You can try the experiment with alcohol 
 and water, taking precautions to prevent evaporation, or 
 you can vary the experiment with solutions of various 
 salts of different densities ; the greater the difference in 
 gravity between the two liquids, the more rapid will be 
 the flow of the lighter one into the heavier, and after 
 equilibrium the greater will be the contrast in the final 
 height of the resultant liquid surfaces." 
 
 "Men will yet explain this effect by natural laws," I 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered ; "when they learn the facts ; and 
 they will then be able to solve certain phenomena con- 
 nected with dift'usion processes that they cannot now un- 
 derstand. Did I not tell you that after the fact had been 
 made plain it was easy to see how Columbus stood the 
 egg on its end ? 
 
 "You may proceed with your narrative. I accept that 
 when certain liquids are connected, as you have shown, 
 by means of porous substances, one will pass into the 
 other, and the surface of the lighter liquid in this case 
 will assume a position below that of the heavier." 
 
 "You must also accept," said he, "that when solutions 
 of salt are subjected to earth attraction, under proper 
 
288 Etidorhpa 
 
 conditions, the solids may by capillary attraction be left 
 behind, and pure water finally pass through the porous 
 medium. Were it not for this law, the only natural sur- 
 face spring water on earth would be brine, for the super- 
 ficial crust of the earth is filled with saline solutions. All 
 the spring-fed rivers and lakes would also be salty and 
 fetid with sulphur compounds, for at great depths brine 
 and foul water are always present. Even in countries 
 where all the water below the immediate surface of the 
 earth is briny, the running springs, if of capillary origin, 
 are pure and fresh. You may imagine how different this 
 would be were it not for the law I have cited. 
 
 Continuing, my guest argued as follows : "Do not 
 lakes exist on the earth's surface into which rivers and 
 streams flow, but which have no visible outlet? Are not 
 such lakes saline, even though the source of supply is 
 comparatively fresh? Has it never occurred to you to 
 question whether capillarity assisted by surface evapora- 
 tion (not evaporation only as men assert) is not separat- 
 ing the water of these lakes from the saline substances 
 carried into them by the streams, thus producing brine 
 lakes? Will not this action after a great length of time 
 result in crystalline deposits over portions of the bottoms 
 of such lakes, and ultimately produce a salt bed?" 
 
 "It is possible," I replied. 
 
 "Not only possible, but probable. Not only probable, 
 but true. Across the intervening brine strata above the 
 salt crystals the surface rivers may flow, indeed, owing 
 to differences in specific gravity the surface of the lake 
 may be comparatively fresh, while in the quiet depths be- 
 low, beds of salt crystals are forming, and between these 
 extremes may rest strata after strata of saline solutions, 
 decreasing in gravity toward the top." 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 I QUESTION SCIENTIFIC MEN. ARISTOTLE's ETHER. 
 
 (Search of Llewellyn Drury for evidence to refute the asser- 
 tions made by his occult visitor, I-Am-The-Man.) 
 
 When the opportunity presented, I, Llewellyn Drury, 
 consulted Dr. W. B. Chapman, the druggist and student 
 of science, regarding the nature of light and earth, who 
 in turn referred me to Professor Daniel Vaughan. This 
 learned man, in reply to my question concerning gravita- 
 tion, declared that there was much that men wished to 
 understand in regard to this mighty force, that might 
 yet be explained, but which may never become known to 
 mortal man. 
 
 "The correlation of forces," said he, "was prominently 
 introduced and considered by a painstaking scientific 
 writer named Joule, in several papers that appeared be- 
 tween 1843 ^"cl 1850, and he was followed by others, who 
 engaged themselves in experimenting and theorizing, and 
 I may add that Joule was indeed preceded in such 
 thought by Mayer. This department of scientific study 
 just now appears of imusual interest to scientists, and 
 your questions embrace problems connected with some 
 phases of its phenomena. We believe that light, heat, 
 and electricity are mutually convertible, in fact, the evi- 
 dences recently opened up to us show that such must be 
 the case. These agencies or manifestations are now 
 known to be so related that whenever one disappears 
 others spring into existence. Study the beautiful experi- 
 ments and remarkable investigations of Sir William 
 Thomson in these directions." 
 
 "And what of gravitation?" I asked, observing that 
 Professor Vaughan neglected to include gravitation among 
 
290 Etidorhpa 
 
 his numerous enumerated forces, and recollecting that the 
 force gravitation was more closely connected with my 
 visitor's story than perhaps were any of the others, ex- 
 cepting the mysterious mid-earth illumination. 
 
 "Of that force we are in greater ignorance than of the 
 others," he replied. "It affects bodies terrestrial and 
 celestial, drawing a material substance, or pressing it to 
 the earth ; also holds, we believe, the earth and all other 
 bodies in position in the heavens, thus maintaining the 
 equilibrium of the planets. Seemingly gravitation is not 
 derived from or sustained by an external force, or sup- 
 ply reservoir, but is an intrinsic entity, a characteristic of 
 matter that decreases in intensity at the rate of the square 
 of the increasing distance, as bodies recede from each 
 other, or from the surface of the earth. However, 
 gravitation neither escapes by radiation from bodies nor 
 needs to be replenished, so far as we know. It may be 
 compared to an elastic band, but there is no intermediate 
 tangible substance to influence bodies that are affected by 
 it, and it remains in undying tension, unlike all elastic 
 material substances known, neither losing nor acquiring 
 energy as time passes. Unlike cohesion or chemical at- 
 traction, it exerts its influence upon bodies that are out of 
 contact, and have no material connection, and this neces- 
 sitates a purely fanciful explanation concerning the 
 medium that conducts such influences, bringing into 
 existence the illogical, hypothetical, fifth ether, made con- 
 spicuous by Aristotle." 
 
 "What of this ether?" I queried. 
 
 "It is a necessity in science, but intangible, undemon- 
 strated, unknown, and wholly theoretical. It is accepted 
 as an existing fluid by scientists, because human theory 
 cannot conceive of a substance capable of, or explain how 
 a substance can be capable of affecting a separate body 
 unless there is an intermediate medium to convey force 
 impressions. Hence to material substances Aristotle 
 added (or at least made conspicuous) a speculative ether 
 that, he assumed, pervades all space, and all material 
 
I Question Scientific Men 291 
 
 bodies as well, in order to account for the passage of heat 
 and light to and from the sun, stars, and planets." 
 "Explain further," I requested. 
 
 "To conceive of such an entity we must imagine a 
 material that is more evanescent than any known gas, 
 even in its most diffused condition. It must combine the 
 solidity of the most perfect conductor of heat (exceed- 
 ing any known body in this respect to an infinite degree) 
 with the transparency of an absolute vacuum. It must 
 neither create friction by contact with any substance nor 
 possess attraction for matter; must neither possess 
 weight (and yet carry the force that produces weight) 
 nor respond to the influence of any chemical agent, or 
 exhibit itself to any optical instrument. It must be in- 
 visible and yet carry the force that produces the sensation 
 of sight. It must be of such a nature that it cannot, 
 according to our philosophy, affect the corpuscles o£ 
 earthly substances while permeating them without con- 
 tact or friction, and yet, as a scientific incongruity, it must 
 act so readily on physical bodies as to convey to the 
 material eye the sensation of sight, and from the sun to 
 creatures on distant planets it must carry the heat force, 
 thus giving rise to the sensation of warmth. Through 
 this medium, yet without sensible contact with it, worlds 
 must move, and planetary systems revolve, cutting and 
 piercing it in every direction, without loss of momentum. 
 And yet, as I have said, this ether must be in such close 
 contact as to convey to them the essence that warms the 
 universe, lights the universe, and must supply the at- 
 tractive bonds that hold the stellar worlds in position. 
 A nothing in itself, so far as man's senses indicate, the 
 ether of space must be denser than iridium, more mobile 
 than any known liquid, and stronger than the finest steel." 
 "I cannot conceive of such an entity," I replied. 
 "No ; neither can any man, for the theory is irrational, 
 and cannot be supported by comparison with laws known 
 to man, but the conception is nevertheless a primary 
 necessity in scientific study. Can man, by any rational 
 
292 Etidorhpa 
 
 theory, combine a vacuum and a substance, and create a 
 result that is neither material nor vacuity, neither some- 
 thing nor nothing, and yet an intensified all ; being more 
 attenuated than the most perfect of known vacuums, and 
 a conductor better than the densest metal? This we do 
 when we attempt to describe the scientists' all-pervading 
 ether of space, and to account for its influence on matter. 
 This hypothetical ether is, for want of a better theory of 
 causes, as supreme in philosophy to-day as the alkahest 
 of the talented old alchemist Van Helmont was in former 
 times, a universal spirit that exists in conception, and yet 
 does not exist in perception, and of which modern science 
 knows as little as its speculative promulgator, Aristotle, 
 did. We who pride ourselves on our exact science, smile 
 at some of Aristotle's statements in other directions, for 
 science has disproved them, and yet necessity forces us 
 to accept this illogical ether speculation, which is, per- 
 haps, the most unreasonable of all theories. Did not this 
 Greek philosopher also gravely assert that the lion has 
 but one vertebra in his neck ; that the breath of man en- 
 ters the heart ; that the back of the head is empty, and that 
 man has but eight ribs?" 
 
 "Aristotle must have been a careless observer," I said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered ; "it would seem so, and science 
 to-day bases its teachings concerning the passage of all 
 forces from planet to planet, and sun to sun, on dicta such 
 as I have cited, and no more reasonable in applied ex- 
 periment." 
 
 "And I have been referred to you as a conscientious 
 scientific teacher," I said ; "why do you speak so 
 facetiously?" 
 
 "I am well enough versed in what we call science to 
 have no fear of injuring the cause by telling the truth, 
 and you asked a direct question. If your questions carry 
 you farther in the direction of force studies, accept at 
 once, that of the intrinsic constitution of force itself 
 nothing is known. Heat, light, magnetism, electricity, 
 galvanism (until recently known as imponderable bodies) 
 
I Question Scientific Men 293 
 
 are now considered as modifications of force ; but, in my 
 opinion, the time will come when they will be known as 
 disturbances." 
 
 "Disturbances of what?" 
 
 "I do not know precisely; but of something that lies 
 behind them all, perhaps creates them all, but yet is in 
 essence unknown to men." 
 
 "Give me a clearer idea of your meaning." 
 
 "It seems impossible," he replied ; "I cannot find words 
 in which to express myself; I do not believe that forces, 
 as we know them (imponderable bodies), are as modern 
 physics defines them. I am tempted to say that, in my 
 opinion, forces are disturbance expressions of a some- 
 thing with which we are not acquainted, and yet in which 
 we are submerged and permeated. Aristotle's ether per- 
 haps. It seems to me, that, behind all material sub- 
 stances, including forces, there is an unknown spirit, 
 which, by certain influences, may be ruffled into the ex- 
 hibition of an expression, which exhibition of temper we 
 call a force. From this spirit these force expressions 
 (wavelets or disturbances) arise, and yet they may be- 
 come again quiescent, and again rest in its absorbing 
 unity. The water from the outlet of a calm lake flows 
 over a gentle decline in ripples, or quiet undulations, 
 over the rapids in musical laughings, over a precipice in 
 thunder tones — always water, each a different phase, 
 however, to become quiet in another lake (as ripples in 
 this universe may awaken to our perception, to repose 
 again), and still be water." 
 
 He hesitated, 
 
 "Go on," I said. 
 
 "So I sometimes have dared to dream that gravitation 
 may be the reservoir that conserves the energy for all 
 mundane forces, and that what we call modifications of 
 force are intermediate conditions, ripples, rapids, or cas- 
 cades, in gravitation." 
 
 "Continue," I said, eagerly, as he hesitated. 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 THE SOLILOQUY OF PROFESSOR DANIEL VAUGHAN. ""GRAVI- 
 TATION IS THE BEGINNING AND GRAVITATION IS THE 
 END : ALL EARTHLY BODIES KNEEL TO GRAVITATION." 
 
 "Please continue, I am intensely interested ; I wish 
 that I could give you my reasons for the desire ; I cannot 
 do so, but I beg you to continue." 
 
 "I should add," continued Vaughan, ignoring my re- 
 marks, "that we have established rules to measure the 
 force of gravitation, and have estimated the decrease of 
 attraction as we leave the surfaces of the planets. We 
 have made comparative estimates of the weight of the 
 earth and planets, and have reason to believe that the 
 force expression of gravitation decreases toward the 
 centre of the earth, until at the very centre of our 
 planet matter has no weight. This, together with the 
 rule I repeated a few moments ago, is about all we know, 
 or think we know, of gravitation. Gravitation is the be- 
 ginning and gravitation is the end ; all earthly bodies 
 kneel to gravitation. I cannot imagine a Beyond, and yet 
 gravitation," mused the rapt philosopher, "may also be an 
 expression of" — he hesitated again, forgetting me com- 
 pletely, and leaned his shaggy head upon his hands. I 
 realized that his mind was lost in conjecture, and that he 
 was absorbed in the mysteries of the scientific immensity. 
 Would he speak again? I could not think of disturbing 
 his revery, and minutes passed in silence. Then he 
 slowly, softly, reverently murmured: "Gravitation, 
 Gravitation, thou art seemingly the one permanent, ever- 
 present earth-bound expression of Omnipotence. Heat 
 and light come and go, as vapors of water condense into 
 rain and dissolve into vapor to return again to the atmos- 
 phere. Electricity and magnetism appear and disappear; 
 
CRAX TIAI'IOX IS I'HK KKCINNINC, AND CRAXITA I'll )N IS TIIK END ; Al.I, 
 KAKIHI.V KDDIKS KNEKL lO (;KA\ TIAIION." 
 
Soliloquy of Professor Daniel Vaughan 295 
 
 like summer storms, they move in diversified channels, or 
 even turn and fly from contact with some bodies, seem- 
 ingly forbidden to appear, but thou, Gravitation, art 
 omnipresent and omnipotent. Thou createst motion and 
 yet maintainest the equilibrium of all things mundane 
 and celestial. An attempt to imagine a body destitute of 
 thy potency would be to bankrupt and deaden the ma- 
 terial universe. O ! Gravitation, art thou a voice out of 
 the Beyond, and are other forces but echoes — tremulous 
 reverberations that start into life to vibrate for a spell 
 and die in the space caverns of the universe while thou 
 continuest supreme?" 
 
 His bowed head and rounded shoulders stooped yet 
 lower ; he unconsciously brushed his shaggy locks with 
 his hand, and seemed to confer with a familiar Being 
 whom others could not see. 
 
 "A voice from without," he repeated ; "from beyond 
 our realm ! Shall the subtle ears of future scientists 
 catch yet lighter echoes? Will the brighter thoughts of 
 more gifted men, under such furtherings as the future 
 may bring, perchance commune with beings who people 
 immensity, distance disappearing before thy ever-reach- 
 ing spirit? For with thee, who boldest the universe to- 
 gether, space is not space, and there is no word express- 
 ing time. Art thou a voice that carriest the history of the 
 past from the past unto and into the present, and for 
 which there is no future, all conditions of time being as 
 one to thee, thyself covering all and connecting all to- 
 gether? Art thou, Gravitation, a voice? If so, there 
 must be a something farther out in those fathomless 
 caverns, beyond mind imaginings, from which thou 
 comest, for how could nothingness have formulated it- 
 self into a voice? The suns and universe of suns about 
 us may be only vacant points in the depths of an all- 
 pervading entity in which even thyself dost exist as a 
 momentary echo, linked to substances ponderous, destined 
 to fade away in the interstellar expanse outside, where 
 disturbances disappear, and matter and gravitation to- 
 
296 Etidorhpa 
 
 gether die; where all is pure, quiescent, peaceful and 
 dark. Gravitation, Gravitation, imperishable Gravita- 
 tion ; thou seemingly art the ever-pervading, unalterable, 
 but yet moving spirit of a cosmos of solemn mysteries. 
 Art thou now, in unperceived force expressions, speaking 
 to dumb humanity of other universes ; of suns and 
 vortices of suns ; bringing tidings from the solar planets, 
 or even infinitely distant star mists, the silent unresolved 
 nebulae, and spreading before earth-bound mortal minds, 
 each instant, fresh tidings from without, that in igno- 
 rance, we cannot read ? May not beings, perhaps like our- 
 selves, but higher in the scale of intelligence, those who 
 people some of the planets about us, even now beckon 
 and try to converse with us through thy subtle, ever-pres- 
 ent self? And may not their efforts at communication 
 fail because of our ignorance of a language they can 
 read? Are not light and heat, electricity and magnetism, 
 plodding, vacillating agents compared with thy steady 
 existence, and is it even further possible — ?" 
 
 His voice had gradually lowered, and now it became 
 inaudible ; he was oblivious to my presence, and had gone 
 forth from his own self; he was lost in matters celestial, 
 and abstractedly continued unintelligibly to mutter to 
 himself as, brushing his hair from his forehead, he picked 
 up his well-worn felt hat, and placed it awkwardly on his 
 shaggy head, and then shuffled away without bidding me 
 farewell. The bent form, prematurely shattered by 
 privation ; uncouth, unkempt, typical of suffering and 
 neglect, impressed me with the fact that in him man's 
 life essence, the immortal mind, had forgotten the ma- 
 terial part of man. The physical half of man, even of his 
 own being, in Daniel Vaughan's estimation, was an en- 
 cumbrance unworthy of serious attention, his spirit com- 
 muned with the pure in Nature, and to him science was 
 a study of the great Beyond.* 
 
 *Mr. Drury cannot claim to have recorded verbatim Professor 
 Vaughan's remarks, but has endeavored to give the substance. His 
 language was faultless, his word selections beautiful, his soliloquy 
 
Soliloquy of Professor Daniel Vaughan 297 
 
 I embraced the first opportunity that presented itself 
 to read the works that Professor Vaughan suggested, and 
 sought him more than once to question further. How- 
 ever, he would not commit himself in regard to the pos- 
 sible existence of other forces than those with which we 
 are acquainted, and when I interrogated him as to pos- 
 sibilities in the study of obscure force expressions, he 
 declined to express an opinion concerning the subject. 
 Indeed, I fancied that he believed it probable, or at least 
 not impossible, that a closer acquaintance with con- 
 ditions of matter and energy might be the heirloom of 
 future scientific students. At last I gave up the search, 
 convinced that all the information I was able to obtain 
 from other persons whom I questioned, and whose 
 answers were often prompt and positive, was evolved 
 largely from self-conceit. After hearing Vaughan, all 
 other voices sounded empty. 
 
 impressive beyond description. Perhaps Drury even misstated an 
 idea, or more than one, evolved then by the great mind of that 
 patient man. Professor Daniel Vaughan was fitted for a scientific 
 position of the highest honor ; but, neglected by man, proud as a 
 king, he bore uncomplainingly privations most bitter, and suf- 
 fered alone until finally he died from starvation and neglect in 
 the city of his adoption. Some persons are ready to cry, "Shame ! 
 Shame !" at wealthy Cincinnati ; others assert that men could not 
 give to Daniel Vaughan, and since the first edition of Etidorhpa 
 appeared, the undersigned has learned of one vain attempt to serve 
 the interests of this peculiar man. He would not beg, and know- 
 ing his capacities, if he could not procure a position in which to 
 earn a living, he preferred to starve. The only bitterness of his 
 nature, it is said, went out against those who, in his opinion, kept 
 from him such employment as returns a livelihood to scientific 
 men ; for he well knew his intellect earned for him such a right in 
 Cincinnati, the city in which none who knew him will deny that 
 he perished from cold and privation. Commemorated is he not 
 by a bust of bronze that distorts the facts in that the garments are 
 not seedy and unkempt, the figure stooping, the cheek hollow and 
 the eye pitifully expressive of an empty stomach? That bust 
 modestly rests in the public library he loved so well, in which he 
 suffered so uncomplainingly, and starved so patiently. — J. U. L. 
 
CHAPTER L. 
 
 A CHALLENGE. 
 
 (Which the unbidden guest of Mr. Drury accepts, forthwith 
 proceeding to demonstrate that a fountain may rise above its 
 source.) 
 
 Said I-Am-The-Man, "If you wish to stake your entire 
 argument on the general statement that a stream of water 
 cannot rise above its head, I will accept the challenge ; 
 but I insist that you do not divulge the nature of the 
 experiment until, as you are directed, you make public 
 my story." 
 
 "Of course a fluid can be pumped up," I sarcastically 
 observed. "However, I promise the secrecy you ask." 
 
 "I am speaking seriously," he said, "and I have ac- 
 cepted your challenge ; your own eyes shall view the 
 facts, your own hands prepare the conditions necessary. 
 Procure a few pints of sand and a few pounds of salt ; 
 to-morrow evening I shall be ready to make the experi- 
 ment." 
 
 "Agreed ; if you will induce a stream of water to run 
 up hill, a fountain to rise above its head, I will believe 
 any statement you may henceforth make." 
 
 "Be ready, then," he replied, "and procure the ma- 
 terials named." So saying he picked up his hat and 
 abruptly departed. 
 
 These substances I purchased the next day, procuring 
 the silver sand from Gordon's pharmacy, corner of 
 Eighth and Western Row, and promptly at the specified 
 time we met in my room. 
 
 He came, provided with a cylindrical glass jar about 
 eighteen inches high and two inches in diameter (such as 
 I have since learned is called a hydrometer jar), and a 
 
A Challenge 299 
 
 long, slender drawn glass tube, the internal diameter of 
 which was about one-sixteenth of an inch. 
 
 "You have deceived me," I said; "I know well enough 
 that capillary attraction will draw a liquid above its sur- 
 face. You demonstrated that quite recently to my entire 
 satisfaction." 
 
 "True, and yet not true of this experiment," he said. 
 "'I propose to force water through and out of this tube ; 
 capillary attraction will not expel a liquid from a tube if 
 its mouth be above the surface of the supply." 
 
 He dipped the tip of a capillary tube into a tumbler of 
 water ; the water rose inside the tube about an inch above 
 the surface of the water in the tumbler. 
 
 "Capillary attraction can do no more," he said. "Break 
 the tube one-eighth of an inch above the water ( far below 
 the present capillary surface), and it will not overflow. 
 The exit of the tube must be lower than the surface of the 
 liquid if circulation ensues." 
 
 He broke off a fragment, and the result was as pre- 
 dicted. 
 
 Then he poured water into the glass jar to the depth 
 of about six inches, and selecting a piece of very thin 
 muslin, about an inch square, turned it over the end of 
 the glass tube, tied it in position, and dropped that end 
 of the tube into the cylinder. 
 
 "The muslin simply prevents the tube from filling with 
 sand," he explained. Then he poured sand into the 
 cylinder tmtil it reached the surface of the water. (See 
 Figure 2t,.) 
 
 "Your apparatus is simple enough," I remarked, I am 
 afraid with some sarcasm. 
 
 "Nature works with exceeding simplicity," he replied ; 
 "there is no complex apparatus in her laboratory, and I 
 copy after Nature." 
 
 Then he dissolved the salt in a portion of water that 
 he drew from the hydrant into my wash-bowl, making a 
 strong brine, and stirred sand into the brine to make a 
 thick mush. This mixture of sand and brine he then 
 
300 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 A- 
 
 0- 
 
 poured into the cylinder, filling it nearly to the top. (See 
 Figure 2t„ B. The sand settling soon left a layer of 
 brine above it, as shown by A.) I had previously noticed 
 that the upper end of the glass tube was curved, and my 
 surprise can be imagined when I saw that at once water 
 began to flow through the tube, dropping quite rapidly 
 into the cylinder. The lower end of the curve of the 
 glass tube was fully half an inch above the surface of the 
 liquid in the cylinder. 
 
 I here present a figure of the apparatus. (Figure 2^.) 
 The strange man, or man image, I do not 
 know which, sat before me, and in silence we 
 watched the steady flow of water, v,'ater ris- 
 ing above its surface and flowing into the 
 reservoir from which it was being continu- 
 ally derived. 
 
 "Do you give up?" he asked. 
 "Let me think," I said. 
 "As you please," he replied. 
 /;;»i^j^ "How long will this continue ?" I inquired. 
 
 \ y "Until strong salt water flows from the 
 
 tube." 
 
 Then the old man continued : 
 "I would suggest that after I depart you 
 repeat these experiments. The observations 
 of those interested in science must be re- 
 peated time and again by separate in- 
 dividuals. It is not sufficient that one person should 
 observe a phenomenon ; repeated experiments are neces- 
 sary in order to overcome error of manipulation, and to 
 convince others of their correctness. Not only yourself, 
 but many others, after this manuscript appears, should go 
 through with similiar investigations, varied in detail as 
 mind expansion may suggest. This experiment is but 
 the germ of a thought which will be enlarged upon by 
 many minds under other conditions. A meteorological 
 event may occur in the experience of one observer, never 
 to be repeated. This is possible. The results of such ex- 
 
 FlG. 23. 
 
 A, brine. 
 
 B, sand and 
 brine mix- 
 ed. 
 
 C, sand and 
 water. 
 
 
A Challenge 301 
 
 periments as you are observing, however, must be fol- 
 lowed by similar results in the hands of others, and in 
 behalf of science it is necessary that others should be 
 able to verify your experience. In the time to come it 
 will be necessary to support your statements in order to 
 demonstrate that your perceptive faculties are now in a 
 normal condition. Are you sure that your conceptions of 
 these results are justified by normal perception? May 
 you not be in an exalted state of mind that hinders clear 
 perception, and compels you to imagine and accept as 
 fact that which does not exist? Do you see what you 
 think you see? After I am gone, and the influences that 
 my person and mind exert on your own mind have been 
 removed, will these results, as shown by my experiments, 
 follow similar experimental conditions? In the years 
 that are to pass before this paper is to be made public, it 
 will be your duty to verify your present sense faculty. 
 This you must do as opportunities present, and with dif- 
 ferent devices, so that no question may arise as to what 
 will follow when others repeat our experiments. To- 
 morrow evening I shall call again, but remember, you 
 must not tell others of this experiment, nor show the 
 devices to them." 
 
 "I have promised," I answered. 
 
 He gathered his manuscript and departed, and i sat 
 in meditation watching the mysterious fountain. 
 
 As he had predicted, finally, after a long time, the flow 
 slackened, and by morning, when I arose from my bed, 
 the water had ceased to drip, and then I found it salty 
 to the taste. 
 
 The next evening he appeared as usual, and prepared 
 to resume his reading, making no mention of the previous 
 test of my faith. I interrupted him, however, by saying 
 that I had observed that the sand had settled in the 
 cylinder, and that in my opinion his experiment was not 
 true to appearances, but was a deception, since the sand 
 "by its greater weight displaced the water, which escaped 
 through the tube, where there was least resistance. 
 
302 Etidorhpa 
 
 "Ah," he said, "and so you refuse to believe your own- 
 eyesight, and are contriving an excuse to escape the de- 
 served penalty ; I will, however, acquiesce in your out- 
 spoken desire for further light, and repeat the experi- 
 ment without using sand. But I tell you that mother 
 earth, in the phenomena known as artesian wells, uses- 
 sand and clay, pools of mineral waters of different gravi- 
 ties, and running streams. The waters beneath the earth 
 are under pressure, induced by such natural causes as I 
 have presented you in miniature, the chief difference 
 being that the supplies of both salt and fresh water are in- 
 exhaustible, and by natural combinations similar to what 
 you have seen ; the streams within the earth, if a pipe 
 be thrust into them, may rise continuously, eternally, from 
 a reservoir higher than the head. In addition, there are 
 pressures of gases, and solutions of many salts, other 
 than common salt, that tend to favor the phenomenon^ 
 You are unduly incredulous, and you ask of me more 
 than your right after staking your faith on an experiment 
 of your own selection. You demand more of me even 
 than Nature often accomplishes in earth structure ; but 
 to-morrow night I will show you that this seemingly im- 
 possible feat is possible." 
 
 He then abruptly left the room. The following even- 
 ing he presented himself with a couple of one-gallon cans, 
 one of them without a bottom. I thought I could detect 
 some impatience of manner as he filled the perfect can 
 (D) with water from the hydrant, and having spread a 
 strip of thin muslin over the mouth of the other can 
 (B), pressed it firmly over the mouth (C) of the can of 
 water, which it fitted tightly, thus connecting them to- 
 gether, the upper (bottomless) can being inverted. Then 
 he made a narrow slit in the centre of the muslin with his 
 pen-knife, and through it thrust a glass tube like that 
 of our former experiment. Next he wrapped a string 
 around the open top of the upper can, crossed it over 
 the top, and tied the glass tube to the centre of the cross, 
 string. 
 
A Challenge 
 
 303 
 
 "Simply to hold this tube in position," he explained. 
 The remainder of the bag of salt left from the experi- 
 ment of the preceding evening was then dissolved in 
 water, and the brine poured into the upper can, filling it 
 to the top. Then carefully thrusting the glass tube down- 
 ward, he brought the tip of the curve to within about one- 
 half inch of the surface of the brine, when 
 immediately a rapid flow of liquid exhibited 
 itself. (Figure 24.) 
 
 'Tt rises above its source without sand," 
 he observed. 
 
 "I cannot deny the fact," I replied, "and 
 furthermore I am determined that I shall not 
 question any subsequent statement that you 
 may make." We sat in silence for some 
 time, and the water ran continuously 
 through the tube. I was becoming alarmed, 
 afraid of my occult guest, who accepted my 
 self-selected challenges, and worked out his 
 results so rapidly; he seemed to be more 
 than human. 
 
 "I am a mortal, but a resident of a 
 higher plane than you," he replied, divining 
 my thoughts. "Is not this experiment a 
 natural one?" 
 "Yes," I said. 
 "And Shakespeare wrote, 'There are more things in 
 heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your 
 philosophy.' " 
 "Yes." 
 
 And my guest continued : 
 "He might have added, 'and always will be.' " 
 "Scientific men will explain this phenomenon," I sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "Yes, when they observe the facts," he replied, "it is 
 very simple. They can now tell, as I have before re- 
 marked, how Columbus stood the egg on end ; however, 
 given the problem before Columbus expounded it, they 
 
 Fig. 24. 
 
 A, surface of 
 brine. 
 
 B, upper can 
 filled with 
 brine. 
 
 C, necks of 
 cans tele- 
 scoped. 
 
 D, lower can 
 full of 
 water. 
 
304 Etidorhpa 
 
 would probably have wandered as far from the true 
 solution as the mountain with its edgewise layers of stone 
 is from the disconnected artesian wells on a distant sea- 
 coast where the underground fresh and salt water in 
 overlying currents and layers clash together. The ex- 
 planation, of course, is simple. The brine is of greater 
 specific gravity than the pure water ; the pressure of the 
 heavier fluid forces the lighter up in the tube. This 
 action continues vmtil, as you will see by this experiment, 
 in the gradual diffusion of brine and pure water the salt 
 is disseminated equally throughout the vessels, and the 
 specific gravity of the mixed liquid becomes the same 
 throughout, when the flow will cease. However, in the 
 earth, where supplies are practically inexhaustible, an 
 equilibrium is never made, the fountain flows unceas- 
 ingly." 
 
CHAPTER LI. 
 
 BEWARE OF BIOLOGY, THE SCIENCE OF THE LIFE OF MAN. 
 
 (Wherein I-Am-The-Man holds his unwilling listener's atten- 
 tion as he relates a story which bids one shudder.) 
 
 "But you have not lived up to the promise ; you have 
 evaded part of the bargain," I continued. "While you 
 have certainly perforrned some curious experiments in 
 physics which seem to be unique, yet I am only an 
 amateur in science, and your hydrostatic illustrations 
 may be repetitions of investigations already recorded, 
 that have escaped the attention of the scientific gentlemen 
 to whom I have hitherto applied." 
 
 "Man is a creature of doubts and questions," he ob- 
 served. "Answer one query, and others rise. His inner 
 self is never satisfied, and you are not to blame for wish- 
 ing for a sign, as all self-conscious conditions of your 
 former existence compel. Now that I have brushed aside 
 the more prominent questionings, you insist upon those 
 omitted, and appeal to me to" — he hesitated. 
 
 "To what?" I asked, curious to see if he had intui- 
 tively grasped my unspoken sentence. 
 
 "To exhibit to you your own brain," he replied. 
 
 "That is it exactly," I said ; "you promised it, and you 
 shall be held strictly to your bargain. You agreed to 
 show me my own brain, and it seems evident that you 
 have purposely evaded the promise." 
 
 "That I have made the promise and deferred its com- 
 pletion cannot be denied, but not by reason of an inability 
 to fulfil the contract. I will admit that I purposely de- 
 ferred the exhibition, hoping on your own account that 
 you would forget the hasty promise. You would better 
 
306 Etidorhpa 
 
 release me from the promise ; you do not know what you 
 ask." 
 
 "I beHeve that I ask more than you can perform," I 
 answered, "and that you know it." 
 
 "Let me give you a history," he said, "and then per- 
 haps you will relent. Listen. A man once became 
 involved in the study of anatomy. It led him to de- 
 struction. He commenced the study in order to learn a 
 profession ; he hoped to become a physician. Materia 
 medica, pharmacy, chemistry, enticed him at first, but 
 after a time presented no charms. He was a dull student 
 in much that men usually consider essential to the prac- 
 tice of medicine. He was not fitted to be a physician. 
 Gradually he became absorbed in two branches, physi- 
 ology and anatomy. Within his mental self a latent 
 something developed that neither himself nor his friends 
 had suspected. This was an increasing desire for knowl- 
 edge concerning the human body. The insatiable craving 
 for anatomy grew upon him, and as it did so other sec- 
 tions of medicine were neglected. Gradually he lost sight 
 of his professional object ; he dropped chemistry, materia 
 medica, pharmacy, and at last morbidly lived only in the 
 aforenamed two branches. 
 
 "His first visit to the dissecting room was disagreeable. 
 The odor of putrid flesh, the sight of the mutilated bodies 
 repulsed him. When first his hand, warm in life, touched 
 the clammy flesh of a corpse, he shuddered. Then when 
 his fingers came in contact with the viscera of a cadaver, 
 that of a little child, he cried out in horror. The demon- 
 strator of anatomy urged him on ; he finally was induced 
 to dissect part of the infant. The reflex action on his 
 sensitive mind first stunned, and then warped his senses. 
 His companions had to lead him from the room. 'Wash 
 it off, wash it off,' he repeated, trying to throw his hand 
 from his person. 'Horrid, horrible, unclean. The child 
 is yet before me,' he insisted. Then he went into a fever 
 and raved. 'Some mother will meet me on the street and 
 curse me,' he cried. ' "That hand is red with the blood of 
 
Beware of Biology 307 
 
 my darling; it has desecrated the innocent dead, and 
 mutilated that which is most precious to a mother." Take 
 the hand away, wash it,' he shouted. 'The mother curses 
 me ; she demands retribution. Better that a man be dead 
 than cursed by a mother whose child has been desecrated.' 
 So the unfortunate being raved, dreaming all manner of 
 horrid imaginings. But at last he recovered, a different 
 man. He returned voluntarily to the dissecting-room, 
 and wrapped himself in the uncouth work. Nothing in 
 connection with corpse-mutilation was now offensive or 
 unclean. He threw aside his other studies, he became a 
 slave possessed of one idea. He scarcely took time to 
 dine respectably ; indeed, he often ate his lunch in the 
 dissecting-room. The blood of a child was again and 
 again on his fingers ; it mattered not, he did not take the 
 trouble to wash it off. 'The liver of man is not more 
 sacred than the liver of a hog,' he argued ; 'the flesh of a 
 man is the same as other forms of animal food. When a 
 person dies the vital heat escapes, consciousness is dis- 
 sipated, and the cold, rigid remains are only animal. 
 Consciousness and life are all that is of man — one is 
 force, the other matter; when man dies both perish and 
 are dissipated.' His friends perceived his fondness for 
 dissection, and argued with him again, endeavoring now 
 to overcome his infatuation ; he repelled them. 'I learned 
 in my vision,' he said, referring to his fever, 'that Pope 
 was right in saying that the "proper study of mankind is 
 man ;" I care nothing for your priestly superstitions con- 
 cerning the dead. These fables are the invention of 
 designing churchmen who live on the superstitions of the 
 ignorant. I am an infidel, and believe in no intangible 
 spirit ; that which can be seen, felt, and weighed is, all 
 else is not. Life is simply a sensation. All beyond is 
 chimerical, less than fantastic, believed in only by dupes 
 and weak-minded, credulous tools of knaves, or creatures 
 of blind superstition.' He carried the finely articulated, 
 bleached skull of a cadaver to his room, and placed it be- 
 side a marble statue that was a valued heirloom, the 
 
308 Etidorhpa 
 
 model of Venus of Milo. 'Both are lime compounds,' 
 he cynically observed, 'neither is better than the other.' 
 His friends protested. 'Your superstitious education is 
 at fault,' he answered ; 'you mentally clothe one of these 
 objects in a quality it does not deserve, and'lhe thought 
 creates a pleasant emotion. The other, equally as pure, 
 reminds you of the grave that you fear, and you shudder. 
 These mental pulsations are artificial, both being either 
 survivals of superstition or creations of your own mind. 
 The lime in the skull is now as inanimate as that of the 
 statue ; neither object is responsible for its form, neither 
 is unclean. To me, the delicate configuration, the exact 
 articulation, the perfect adaptation for the office it origi- 
 nally filled, makes each bone of this skull a thing of 
 beauty, an object of admiration. As a whole, it gives me 
 pleasure to think of this wonderful, exquisitely arranged 
 piece of mechanism. The statue you admire is in every 
 respect outri vailed by the skull, and I have placed the two 
 together because it pleases me to demonstrate that man's 
 most artistic creation is far inferior to material man. 
 Throw aside your sentimental prejudices, and join with 
 me in the admiration of this thing of beauty ;' and he toyed 
 with the skull as if it were a work of art. So he argued, 
 and arguing passed from bone to bone, and from organ 
 to organ. He filled his room with abnormal fragments of 
 the human body, and surrounded himself with jars of 
 preserved anatomical specimens. His friends fled in dis- 
 gust, and he smiled, glad to be alone with his ghastly 
 subjects. He was infatuated in one of the alcoves of 
 science." 
 
 The old man paused. 
 
 "Shall I proceed?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," I said, but involuntarily moved my chair back, 
 for I began again to be afraid of the speaker. 
 
 "At last this scientific man had mastered all that was 
 known concerning physiology and anatomy. He learned 
 by heart the wording of great volumes devoted to these 
 subjects. The human frame became to him as an open 
 
Beware of Biology 309 
 
 book. He knew the articulation of every muscle, could 
 name a bone from a mere fragment. The microscope 
 ceased to be an object of interest, the secrets of pathology 
 and physiology had been mastered. Then, unconsciously, 
 he was infected by another tendency ; a new thought was 
 destined to dominate his brain. 'What is it that animates 
 this frame? What lies inside to give it life?' He became 
 enthused again : 'The dead body to which I have given 
 my time is not the conscious part of man,' he said to him- 
 self; T must find this thing of life within; I have been 
 onlv a butcher of the dead. My knowledge is super- 
 ficial.' " 
 
 Again the old man hesitated and looked at me inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Shall I proceed?" he repeated. 
 
 I was possessed by horror, but yet fascinated, and 
 answered determinedly : "Go on." 
 
 "Beware," he added, "beware of the Science of Life." 
 
 Pleadingly he looked at me. 
 
 "Go on," I commanded. 
 
 He continued : 
 
 "With the cunning of a madman, this person of pro- 
 found learning, led from the innocence of ignorance to 
 the heartlessness of advanced biological science, secretly 
 planned to seek the vital forces. T must begin with a 
 child, for the life essence shows its first manifestations in 
 children,' he reasoned. He moved to an unfrequented 
 locality, discharged his servants, and notified his former 
 friends that visitors were unwelcome. He had deter- 
 mined that no interruption to his work should occur. 
 This course was unnecessary, however, for now he had 
 neither friends nor visitors. He employed carpenters 
 and artisans, and perfected a series of mechanical tables, 
 beautiful examples of automatic mechanism. From the 
 inner room of that house no cry could be heard by per- 
 sons outside. . . . 
 
 "Hold, old man, cease," I cried aghast ; "I have had 
 enough of this. You trifle with me, demon ; I have not 
 
3IO Etidorhpa 
 
 asked for nightmare stories, heart-curdling accounts of 
 maniacal investigators, who madly pursue their revolting 
 calling, and discredit the name of science." 
 
 "You asked to see your own brain," he replied. 
 
 "And have been given a terrible story instead," I re- 
 torted. 
 
 "So perverted men, misconstruing the aim of science, 
 answer the cry of humanity," he said. "One by one the 
 cherished treasures of Christianity have been stolen from 
 the faithful. What, to the mother, can replace the babe 
 that has been lost?" 
 
 "The next world," I answered, "oflfers a comfort." 
 
 "Bah," he said ; "does not another searcher in that 
 same science field tell the mother that there is no personal 
 hereafter, that she will never see her babe again? One 
 man of science steals the body, another man of science 
 takes away the soul, the third annihilates heaven ; they 
 go like pestilence and famine, hand in hand, subsisting 
 on all that craving humanity considers sacred, and of- 
 fering no tangible return beyond a materialistic present. 
 This same science that seems to be doing so much for 
 humanity will continue to elevate so-called material 
 civilization until, as the yeast ferment is smothered in its 
 own excretion, so will science-thought create conditions 
 to blot itself from existence and destroy the civilization 
 it creates. Science is heartless, notwithstanding the per- 
 sonal purity of the majority of her helpless votaries. She 
 is a thief, not of ordinary riches, but of treasures that 
 cannot be replaced. Before science provings the love of 
 a mother perishes, the hope of immortality is annihilated. 
 Beware of materialism, the end of the science of man. 
 Beware of the beginning of biological inquiry, for he 
 who commences cannot foresee the termination. I say to 
 you in candor, no man ever engaged in the part of science 
 lore that questions the life essence, realizing the possible 
 end of his investigations. The insidiovis servant becomes 
 a tyrannical master ; the housebreaker is innocent, the 
 horse thief guiltless in comparison. Science thought be- 
 
Beware of Biology 311 
 
 gins in the brain of man ; science provings end all things 
 witli the end of the material brain of man. Beware of 
 your own brain," 
 
 "I have no fear," I replied, "that I shall ever be led to 
 disturb the creeds of the faithful, and I will not be 
 diverted. I demand to see my brain." 
 
 "Your demand shall now be fulfilled; you have been 
 warned of the return that may follow the commencement 
 of this study; you force the issue; my responsibility 
 ceases. No man of science realized the end when he be- 
 gan to investigate his throbbing brain, and the end of the 
 fabric that science is weaving for man rests in the hidden 
 future. The story I have related is a true one, as thou- 
 sands of faithful men who unconsciously have been led 
 into infidelity have experienced ; and as the faithful fol- 
 lowers of sacred teachings can also perceive, who 
 recognize that their religion and the hope of Heaven is 
 slipping away beneath the steady inroad of the heartless 
 materialistic investigator, who clothes himself in the 
 garb of science." 
 
CHAPTER LII. 
 
 WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF A CREVICE SHOULD OPEN IN 
 THE ocean's bottom ? 
 
 (An exciting interview between the occult guest and his per- 
 plexed host.) 
 
 "Is it not natural to suppose that a mass of water like 
 this great lake would overflow the barrier immediately, 
 as soon as the surface reached the upper edge, for the 
 pressure of the immense volume must be beyond calcula- 
 tion?" 
 
 "No, for it is height, not expanse, which, as hydro- 
 static engineers understand, governs the pressure of 
 water. A liquid column, one foot in width, would press 
 against the retaining dam with the force of a body of the 
 same liquid, the same depth, one thousand miles in extent. 
 Then the decrease of gravity here permits 
 the molecular attraction of the water's mole- 
 cules to exert itself more forcibly than would 
 be the case on the surface of the earth, and 
 this holds the liquid mass together more 
 firmly." 
 
 "See," he observed, and dipping his finger 
 into the water, he held it before him with a 
 drop of water attached thereto (Figure 27), 
 the globule being of considerable size, and 
 FiG^27. lengthened as though it consisted of some 
 glutinous liquid. 
 "How can a thin stratum of water give rise to a 
 volcanic eruption?" I next queried. "There seems to be 
 no melted rock, no evidence of intense heat, either be- 
 neath or about us." 
 
 "I informed you some time ago that I would partially 
 explain these facts. Know then, that the theories of man 
 
If a Crevice Should Open 3 i 3 
 
 concerning volcanic eruptions, in connection with a 
 molten interior of the earth, are such as are evolved in 
 ignorance of even the sub-surface of the globe. The 
 earth's interior is to mankind a sealed chamber, and the 
 wise men who elucidate the curious theories concerning 
 natural phenomena occurring therein are forced to draw 
 entirely upon their imagination. Few persons realize 
 the paucity of data at the command of workers in science. 
 Theories concerning the earth are formulated from so 
 little real knowledge of that body, that our science may 
 be said to be all theory, with scarcely a trace of actual 
 evidence to support it. If a globe ten inches in diameter 
 be covered with a sheet of paper, such as I hold in my 
 hand, the thickness of that sheet will be greater in pro- 
 portion to that of such a globe than the depth men have 
 explored within the earth is compared with the thickness, 
 of the crust of the earth. The outer surface of a pencil 
 line represents the surface of the earth ; the inner surface 
 of the line represents the depth of man's explorations ;. 
 the highest mountain would be represented by a comma 
 resting on the line. The geologist studies the substances 
 that are thrust from the crater of an active volcano, and 
 from this makes conjectures regarding the strata beneath, 
 and the force that casts the excretions out. The results 
 must with men, therefore, furnish evidence from which 
 to explain the cause. It is as though an anatomist would 
 form his idea of the anatomy of the liver by the secretion 
 thrown out of that organ, or of the lung texture by the 
 breath and sputum. In fact, volcanoes are of several 
 descriptions, and usually are extremely superficial. This 
 lake, the surface of which is but one hundred and fifty 
 miles underground, is the mother of an exceptionally 
 deep one. When the water pours over this ledge it strikes 
 an element below us, the metallic base of salt, which lies, 
 in great masses in some portions of the earth's crust.* 
 
 * This view is supported in theory by a note I believe to have 
 somewhere seen recorded. Elsewhere other bases are mentioned' 
 also.— J. U. L. 
 
3 1 4 Etidorhpa 
 
 Then an immediate chemical reaction ensues, the water 
 is dissociated, intense heat results, part of the water 
 combines with the metal, part is vaporized as steam, while 
 part escapes as an inflammable gas. The sudden libera- 
 tion of these gases causes an irregular pressure of vapor 
 on the surface of the lake, the result being a throbbing 
 and rebounding of the attenuated atmosphere above, 
 which, in gigantic waves, like swelling tides, dashes 
 great volumes of water over the ledge beside us, and into 
 the depth below. This water in turn reacts on fresh 
 portions of the metallic base, and the reflex action in- 
 creases the vapor discharges, and as a consequence the 
 chamber we are in becomes a gas-holder, containing 
 vapors of unequal gas pressures, the resultant agitation 
 of the lake from the turmoil continues, the pulsations 
 being repeated until the surface of the lake is lowered to 
 such a degree as at last to prevent the water from over- 
 flowing the barrier. Finally the lake quiets itself, the 
 gases slowly disappear by earth absorption, and by escape 
 from the volcanic exit, and for an unrecorded period of 
 time thereafter the surface of the lake continues to rise 
 slowly as it is now doing." 
 
 "But what has this phenomenon to do with the vol- 
 cano?" 
 
 "It produces the eruption ; the water that rushes down 
 into the chasm, partly as steam, partly as gas, is forced 
 onward and upward through a crevice that leads to the 
 old crater of the presumed extinct but periodically active 
 Mount Epomeo. These gases are intensely heated, and 
 they move with fearful velocity. They tear off great 
 masses of stone, which the resultant energy disturbances, 
 pressure, gas and friction, redden with heat. The mix- 
 ture of gases from the decomposed water is in large 
 amount, is burning and exploding, and in this fiery fur- 
 nace, amid such convulsions as have been described, the 
 adjacent earth substance is fused and even clay is melted, 
 and carried on with the fiery blast. Finally the current 
 reaches the earth's surface through the funnel passage. 
 
If a Crevice Should Open 3 1 5 
 
 the apex of which is a volcano — the blast described a 
 volcanic eruption." 
 
 "One thing is still obscure in my mind," I said. "You 
 assert that the reaction which follows the contact of the 
 flowing water and metallic bases in the crevice below us 
 liberates the explosive gases, and also volumes of vapor 
 of water. These gases rush, you say, and produce a 
 volcanic eruption in a distant part of the crust of the 
 earth. I cannot understand why»they do not rush back- 
 ward as well, and produce another eruption in Kentucky. 
 Surely the pressure of a gas in confinement is the same in 
 all directions, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "but the conditions in the different 
 directions are dissimilar. In the direction of the Ken- 
 tucky cavern the passage is tortuous, and often contracts 
 to a narrow crevice. In one place near the cavern's 
 mouth, as you will remember, we had to dive beneath 
 the surface of a stream of water. That stratum of water 
 as effectually closed that channel to the earth as the 
 stopper prevents water escaping from a bottle. Between 
 the point we now occupy and that water stopper rest 
 thousands of miles of quiescent air. The inertia of a 
 thousand miles of air is great beyond your compre- 
 hension. To move that column of air plugged by the 
 stopper beyond by pushing against this end of it, and 
 thus shoving it instantly out of the other end, would 
 require greater force than would burst the one hundred 
 and fifty miles of inelastic stone above us. Then, the 
 friction of the sides is another thing that prevents its ac- 
 complishment. While a gradually applied pressure would 
 in time overcome both the inertia of the air and the 
 friction of the stone passages, it would take a supply of 
 energy greater than you can imagine to start into motion 
 the elastic mass that stands as solid and immovable as a 
 sentinel of adamant, between the cavern you entered and 
 the spot we now occupy. Time and energy combined 
 would be able to accomplish the result, but not under 
 present conditions. 
 
3 1 6 Etidorhpa 
 
 "In the other direction a broad, open channel reaches 
 directly to and connects with the volcanic shaft. Through 
 this channel the air is in motion, moving toward the 
 extinct crater, being supplied from another surface 
 orifice. The gases liberated in the manner I have de- 
 scribed naturally follow the line of least resistance. 
 They turn at once away from the inert mass of air that 
 rests behind us, and move with increasing velocity 
 toward the volcanic exit. Before the pressure that 
 might be exerted toward the Kentucky cavern would 
 have more than compressed the intervening column of air 
 enough to raise the water of a well from its usual level to 
 the surface of the earth, the velocity in the other direction 
 would have augmented prodigiously, and with its in- 
 creased rapidity a suction would follow more than suffi- 
 cient to consume the increasing gases behind." 
 
 "Volcanoes are therefore local, and the interior of the 
 earth is not a molten mass as I have been taught," I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 He answered: "If men were far enough along in their 
 thought journey (for the evolution of the mental side of 
 man is a journey in the world of thought), they would 
 avoid such theories as that which ascribes a molten in- 
 terior to the earth. Volcanoes are superficial. They are, 
 as a rule, when in activity but little blisters or excoriations 
 upon the surface of the earth, although their under- 
 ground connections may be extensive. Some of them are 
 in a continual fret with frequent eruptions, others, like 
 the one under consideration, awake only after great 
 periods of time. The entire surface of this globe has 
 been or will be subject to volcanic action. The 
 phenomenon is one of the steps in the world-making, 
 matter-levelling process. When the deposit of substances 
 that I have indicated, and of which much of the earth's 
 interior is composed, the bases of salt, potash, and lime 
 and clay, is exhausted, there will be no further volcanic 
 action from this cause, and in some places this deposit has 
 
If a Crevice Should Open 3 1 7 
 
 already disappeared or is covered deeply by layers of 
 earth that serve as a protection." 
 
 "Is water, then, the universal cause of volcanoes?" 
 
 "Water and air together cause most of them. The 
 action of water and its vapor produces from metallic 
 space dust, limestone, and clay soil, potash and soda salts. 
 This perfectly rational and natural action must continue 
 as long as there is water above and free elementary bases 
 in contact with the earth bubbles. Volcanoes, earth- 
 quakes, geysers, mud springs and hot springs are the 
 natural result of that reaction. Mountains are thereby 
 forming by upheavals from beneath, and the correspond- 
 ing surface valleys are consequently filling up, either by 
 the slow deposit of the matter from the saline water of 
 hot springs, or by the sudden eruption of a new or pre- 
 sumably extinct volcano." 
 
 "What would happen if a crevice in the bottom of the 
 ocean should conduct the waters of the ocean into a de- 
 posit of metallic bases?" 
 
 "That often occurs," was the reply ; "a volcanic wave 
 results, and a volcano may thus rise from the ocean's 
 depths." 
 
 "Is there any danger to the earth itself? May it not be 
 riven into fragments from such a convulsion?" I hesitat- 
 ingly questioned. 
 
 "No; while the configuration of continents is con- 
 tinually being altered, each disturbance is practically 
 superficial, and of limited area." 
 
 "But," I persisted, "the rigid, solid earth may be 
 blown to fragments ; in such convulsions a result like 
 that seems not impossible." 
 
 "You argue from an erroneous hypothesis. The earth 
 is neither rigid nor solid." 
 
 "True," I answered. "If it were solid I could not be a 
 hundred miles beneath its surface in conversation with 
 another being ; but there cannot be many such cavities as 
 that which we are now traversing, and they cannot surely 
 
3 1 8 Etidorhpa 
 
 extend entirely through its mass ; the great weight of the 
 superincumbent material would crush together the 
 strongest materials, if a globe as large as our earth were 
 extensively honeycombed in this manner." 
 
 "Quite the contrary," he replied; "and here let me, for 
 the first time, enlighten you as to the interior structure of 
 the terrestrial globe. The earth-forming principle con- 
 sists of an invisible sphere of energy that, spinning 
 through space, supports the space dust which collects on 
 it, as dust on a bubble. By gradual accumulation of sub- 
 stance on that sphere a hollow ball has resulted, on the 
 outer surface of which you have hitherto dwelt. The 
 crust of the earth is comparatively thin, not more than 
 eight hundred miles in average thickness, and is held in 
 position by the central sphere of energy that now exists 
 at a distance of about seven hundred miles beneath the 
 ocean level. The force inherent to this sphere manifests 
 itself upon the matter which it supports on both sides, 
 rendering matter lighter the nearer it lies to the centre 
 sphere. In other words, let me say to you : "The crust 
 or shell, which I have just described as being but about 
 eight hundred miles in thickness, is firm and solid on 
 both its convex and concave surfaces, but gradually loses 
 in weight, whether we penetrate from the outer surface 
 toward the centre, or from any point of the inner surface 
 toward the outside, until at the central sphere matter has 
 no weight at all. Do you conceive mv meaning?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then I will instruct you ; listen to what I have to say- 
 concerning matter and motion." 
 
CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 MATTER IS RETARDED MOTION. 
 
 (A remarkable conversation concerning world growth which- 
 recent events seem to bring into conspicuity.) 
 
 "It is possible — is it not — for you to imagine a con- 
 tinuous volley of iron balls passing near you in one line, 
 in a horizontal direction, with considerable velocity? 
 Suppose that a pane of glass were to be gradually moved 
 so that a corner of it would be struck by one of the balls ; 
 then the entire sheet of glass would be shivered by the 
 concussion, even though the bullet struck but a single 
 spot of glass, the point of contact covering only a small 
 area. Imagine now that the velocity of the volley of bul- 
 lets be increased a thousand-fold ; then a plate of glass 
 thrust into their track would be smoothly cut, as though 
 with a file that would gnaw its way without producing 
 a single radiating fracture. A person standing near the 
 volley would now hear a deep purr or growling sound, 
 caused by the friction between the bullets and the air. 
 Increase gradually the rapidity of their motion, and this 
 growl would become more acute, passing from a deep, 
 low murmur into one less grave, and as the velocity in- 
 creased the tone would become sharper and at last pierc- 
 ingly shrill. Increase now the rapidity of the train of 
 bullets again, and again the notes would decrease in turn, 
 passing back again successively through the several keys 
 that had preceded, and finally would reach the low growl 
 which first struck the ear, and with a further increase of 
 speed silence would ensue, silence evermore, regardless 
 of increasing velocity. From these hundreds of miles in 
 a second at which the volley is now passing, let the 
 rapidity be augmented a thousand times, reaching in their 
 
320 Etidorhpa 
 
 flight into millions of miles each second, and to the eye, 
 from the point where the sound disappeared, as the 
 velocity increased, a dim redness would appear, a glow 
 just perceptible, indicating to the sense of sight by a 
 continuous line the track of the moving missiles. To all 
 appearance, the line would be as uniform as an il- 
 luminated pencil mark, even though the several integral 
 bullets of the trail might be separated one from another 
 by miles of space. Let a pane of glass now be thrust 
 across their track, and from the point of contact a shower 
 of sparks would fly, and the edges of glass close to either 
 ■side of the orifice would be shown on withdrawing the 
 glass to have been fused. Conceive now that the velocity 
 of the bullets be doubled and trebled again and again, the 
 line of red light becomes brighter, then brilliant, and 
 finally as the velocity increases at a certain point pure 
 white results, and to man's sense the trail would now be 
 a continuous something, as solid as a bar of metal if at a 
 white heat, and (even if the bullets were a thousand miles 
 apart) man could not bring proof of their separate exist- 
 ence to his senses. That portion of a pane of glass or 
 other substance, even steel or adamant, which should 
 cross its track now would simply melt away, the portion 
 ■excised and carried out of that pathway neither showing 
 itself as scintillations nor as fragments of matter. The 
 solid would instantly liquefy, and would spread itself as 
 a thin film over the surface of each ball of that white 
 hot mass of fleeing metal, now to all essential conditions 
 as uniform as a bar of iron. Madly increase the velocity 
 to millions upon millions of miles per second, and the 
 heat will disappear gradually as did the sound, while the 
 bright light will pass backward successively through the 
 primary shades of color now known to man, beginning 
 with violet and ending with red, and as the red fades 
 away the train of bullets will disappear to the sense of 
 man. Neither light nor sound now accompanies the 
 volley, neither the human eye nor the human ear can per- 
 ceive its presence. Drop a pane of glass or any other 
 
Matter is Retarded Motion 321 
 
 object edgewise through it, and it gives to the sense of 
 man no evidence ; the molecules of the glass separate from 
 in front to close in from behind, and the moving train 
 passes through it as freely as light, leaving the surface 
 of the glass unaffected." 
 
 "Hold," I interrupted ; "that would be as one quality of 
 matter passing through another quality of matter without 
 disturbance to either, and it is a law in physics that two 
 substances cannot occupy the same space at the same 
 time." 
 
 "That law holds good as man understands the subject, 
 but the bullets are no longer matter. Motion of mass was 
 first changed into motion of molecules, and motion of 
 molecule became finally augmented into motion of free 
 force entities as the bullets disintegrated into molecular 
 corpuscles, and then were dissociated, atoms resulting. 
 At this last point the sense of vision and of touch ceased 
 to be affected by that moving column (neither matter 
 nor force), and at the next jump in velocity the atoms 
 themselves disappeared, and free intangible motion re- 
 sulted — nothing, vacancy. 
 
 "This result is the all-pervading spirit of space (the 
 ether of mankind), as solid as adamant and as mobile as 
 vacuity. If you can reverse the order of this phenomenon, 
 and imagine an irregular retardation of the rapidity of 
 such atomic motion you can read the story of the forma- 
 tion of the material universe. Follow the chain backward, 
 and with the decrease of velocity, motion again becomes 
 tangible matter, and in accordance with conditions govern- 
 ing the change of motion into matter from time to time 
 the various elements successively appear. The planets may 
 thus grow from without and within, and so it is that 
 ethereal space can generate elemental dirt. If you can 
 conceive of an intermediate condition whereby pure space 
 motion becomes partly tangible, and yet is not gross 
 enough to be earthy matter, you can imagine how such 
 forces as man is acquainted with, light, heat, electricity, 
 magnetism, or gravity even, are produced, for these are 
 
322 Etidorhpa 
 
 also disturbances in space motion. It should also be easily 
 comprehended that, according to the same simple prin- 
 ciple, other elements and unknown forces as well, now 
 imperceptible to man's limited faculties, could be and are 
 formed outside and inside his field of perception." 
 
 "I fear that I cannot comprehend all this," I answered. 
 
 "So I apprehended, and perhaps I have given you this 
 lesson too soon, although some time ago you asked me 
 to teach you concerning the assertion that electricity, 
 light, heat, magnetism, and gravity are disturbances, and 
 you said, 'Disturbances of what?' Think the lesson over, 
 and you will perceive that it is not difficult. Let us hope 
 that the time may come when we shall be able to glance 
 beneath the rough, material, earth surface knowledge 
 that man has acquired, and experience the mind ex- 
 pansion that leads to the blissful insight possessed by 
 superior beings who do not have to contend with the 
 rasping elements that encompass all who dwell upon the 
 surface of the earth." 
 
 I pondered over these words, and a vague light, an 
 undefined, inexpressible something that I could not put 
 into words, broke into my mind ; I inferred that we were 
 destined to meet with persons or existences possessed of 
 new senses, of a mind development that man had not 
 reached. 
 
 "Do you say that the atmosphere is composed of sub- 
 stances unknown to man?" 
 
 "Yes ; several of them are gases, and others are 
 qualities of space condition, neither gas, liquid, nor 
 solid.* One particularly interferes with light in its 
 
 * This has since been partly supported by the discovery of the 
 element Argon. However, the statement in Etidorhpa has been 
 recorded many years. Miss Ella Burbige, stenographer, Newport, 
 Ky., copied the original in 1887; Mr. S. D. Rouse, attorney, 
 Covington, Ky., read it in 1889; Mr. Russell Errett, editor of the 
 Christian Standard, in 1890. and Mr. H. C. Meader, President 
 of the American Ticket Brokers' Association, in 1892. It seems 
 proper to make this explanation in order to absolve the author 
 from any charge of plagiarism, for each of these persons will 
 recall distinctly this, then improbable, assertion.— J. U. L., 1895. 
 
Matter is Retarded Motion 323 
 
 passage. It is an entity that is not moved by the motion 
 of the air, and is unequally distributed over the earth's 
 surface. As we ascend above the earth it decreases, so it 
 does as we descend into it. It is not vapor of water, is 
 neither smoke, nor a true gas, and is as yet sensible to 
 man only by its power of modifying the intensity of light. 
 It has no color, is chemically inactive, and yet modifies 
 the sun's rays so as to blot objects from view at a com- 
 paratively small distance from a person on the face of the 
 earth. That this fact is known to man is evident from 
 the knowledge he possesses of the difference in the power 
 of his organs of vision at different parts of the earth, for 
 his sight is especially acute on the table-lands of the 
 Western Territories." 
 
 "I have been told," I answered, "that vapor of water 
 causes this obscuration or absorption of light." 
 
 "Vapor of water, unless in strata of different densities, 
 is absolutely transparent, and presents no obstacle to the 
 passage of light," he said. "When vapor obstructs light 
 it is owing to impurities contained in it, to currents of 
 varying densities or wave motions, or to a mechanical 
 mixture of condensed water and air, whereby multitudes 
 of tiny globular water surfaces are produced. Pure 
 vapor of water, free from motion, is passive to the sun- 
 light." 
 
 "I can scarcely believe that a substance such as you de- 
 scribe, or that any constituent of the air, can have 
 escaped the perception of the chemist," I replied. 
 
 In, as I thought, a facetious manner he repeated after 
 me the word "chemist," and continued : 
 
 "Have chemists detected the ether of Aristotle that 
 you have mentioned and I have defined, which scientists, 
 nevertheless, accept pervades all space and every de- 
 scription of matter, and that I have told you is really mat- 
 ter itself changed into ultra atomic motion? Have chem- 
 ists explained why one object is transparent, and another 
 of equal weight and solidity is opaque? Have chemists 
 told why vermilion is red and indigo is blue? Have 
 
324 Etidorhpa 
 
 chemists told you why the prism disarranges or distorts 
 sunHght to produce the abnormal hues that men assume 
 compose elementary rays of light? Have chemists ex- 
 plained anything concerning the why or wherefore of the 
 attributes of matter or force, or even proven that the 
 so-called primary forms of matter or elements are not 
 compounds? Upon the contrary, does not the evolution 
 that results in the recorded discoveries of the chemist 
 foretell or at least indicate the possible future of the 
 art, and promise that surrounding mysteries are yet to be 
 developed and expanded into open truths, thus elaborat- 
 ing hidden forces ; and that other forms of matter and 
 unseen force expressions are destined to spring into ex- 
 istence as the sciences progress? The chemist of to-day 
 is groping in darkness ; he is a novice as compared with 
 the elaborated chemist of the near future ; the imperfectly 
 seen of the present, the silent and unsuspected must be- 
 come distinctly visible in a time that is to come, and a 
 brightening of the intellect by these successively upward 
 steps, upstairs of science, will, if science serves herself 
 best, broaden the mind and give power to the imagina- 
 tion, resulting finally in" — 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 "Go on," I said, 
 
 "The passage of mortal man, with the faculties of man 
 intact, into communion with the spirit world." 
 
CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 "a study of science is a study of god/' — COMMUNING 
 WITH ANGELS. 
 
 "This is incredible," I exclaimed. 
 
 "You need not be astonished," he answered. "Is there 
 any argument that can be offered to controvert the as- 
 sertion that man is ignorant of many natural laws?" 
 
 "I can offer none." 
 
 "Is there any doubt that a force, distinct and separate 
 from matter, influences matter and vivifies it into a living 
 personality ?" 
 
 "I do not deny that such a force exists." 
 
 "What then should prevent this force from existing 
 separate from the body if it be capable of existing in it?" 
 
 "I cannot argue against such a position." 
 
 "If, as is hoped and believed by the majority of man- 
 kind, even though some try to deny the fact, it is possible 
 for man to exist as an association of earth matters, linked 
 to a personal spirit force, the soul, and for the spirit force 
 after the death of the body to exist independent of the 
 grosser attributes of man, free from his mortal body, 
 is it not reasonable to infer that the spirit, while it is 
 still in man and linked to his body, may be educated and 
 developed so as, under favorable conditions, to meet and 
 communicate with other spirits that have been previously 
 liberated from earthly bondage?" 
 
 "I submit," I answered ; "but you shock my sensibili- 
 ties when you thus imply that by cold, scientific investi- 
 gation we can place ourselves in a position to meet the un- 
 seen spirit world" — 
 
 It was now my turn to hesitate. 
 
 "Go on," he said. 
 
 "To commune with the angels," I answered. 
 
326 Etidorhpa 
 
 "A study of true science is a study of God," he con- 
 tinued. "Angels are organizations natural in accordance 
 with God's laws, but supernatural in their relationships 
 with human law as law is now known. They appear 
 superhuman, because of our ignorance concerning the 
 higher natural forces. They exist in exact accordance 
 with the laws that govern the universe of matter, force 
 and spirit ; but as yet the attraction between clay and 
 clay-bound spirit is so great as to prevent the enthralled 
 soul of man from communicating with them. The faith 
 of the religionist is an example of the unquenchable 
 feeling that creates a belief as well as a hope that there 
 is a self-existence separate from earthy substances. The 
 scoffing scientific agnostic working for other objects 
 must yet astonish himself by elaborating a method that 
 will demonstrate these facts, and then empirical religion, 
 as exemplified by the unquestioning faithful believer, and 
 systematic science as typified in the experimental ma- 
 terialist, will meet on common ground." 
 
CHAPTER LV. 
 
 A REMARKABLE CONTEST. 
 
 (In which I-Am-The-Man proceeds to convince Mr. Drury 
 that matter has no strength, and also to confound him in unex- 
 pected directions.) 
 
 I, Llewellyn Drury, had been so absorbed in the 
 fantastic story the old man read so fluently from the 
 execrably written manuscript, and in the metaphysical 
 argument which followed his account of the drink vision 
 he had introduced so artfully as to lead me to think it 
 was a part of his narrative, that I scarcely noted the 
 passage of time. Upon seeing him suspend his reading, 
 fold the manuscript, and place it in his pocket, I reverted 
 to material things, and glancing at the clock, perceived 
 that the hands pointed to bed-time. 
 
 "To-morrow evening," said he, observing my glance, 
 "I will return at nine o-clock. In the interim, if you still 
 question any part of the story, or wish further information 
 on any subject connected with my journey, I shall be pre- 
 pared to answer your queries. Since, however, that will 
 be your last opportunity, I suggest that you make notes 
 of all subjects that you wish to discuss." 
 
 Then, in his usual self-possessed, exquisitely polite 
 manner, he bowed himself out. 
 
 I spent the next day reviewing the most questionable 
 features of his history, recalling the several statements 
 that had been made. Remembering the humiliation I had 
 experienced in my previous attempts to confute him, I 
 determined to select such subjects as would appear the 
 most difficult to explain, and to attack the old man with 
 vehemence. 
 
 I confess, that notwithstanding my several failures, 
 and his successful and constant elucidation and minute 
 
328 Etidorhpa 
 
 details in regard to occurrences which he related, and 
 which anticipated many points I once had in mind to 
 question, misgivings still possessed me concerning the 
 truthfulness of the story. If these remarkable episodes 
 were true, could there be such a thing as fiction? If not 
 all true, where did fact end and fancy begin? 
 
 Accordingly I devoted the following day to meditating 
 my plan of attack, for I felt that I had been challenged to 
 a final contest. Late the next day, I felt confident of my 
 own ability to dispossess him, and in order further to test 
 his power, when night came I doubly locked the door to 
 my room, first with the key and next with the inside bolt. 
 I had determined to force him again to induce inert ma- 
 terial to obey his command, as he had done at our first in- 
 terview. The reader will remember that Professor 
 Chickering had deemed that occurrence an illusion, and 
 I confess that time had dimmed the vividness of the scene 
 in my own mind. Hence I proposed to verify the matter. 
 Therefore, at the approach of nine o'clock, the evening 
 following, I sat with my gaze riveted on the bolt of the 
 door, determined not to answer his knock. 
 
 He gave me no chance to neglect a response to his rap. 
 Exactly at the stroke of nine the door swung noiselessly 
 on its hinges, the wizard entered, and the door closed 
 again. The bolt had not moved, the knob did not turn. 
 The bar passed through the catch and back to its seat — 
 I sprung from my chair, and excitedly and rudely rushed 
 past my guest. I grasped the knob, wrenched it with all 
 my might. "V^ainly ; the door was locked, the bolt was 
 fastened. Then I turned to my visitor. He was quietly 
 seated in his accustomed place, and apparently failed to 
 notice my discomposure, although he must have realized 
 that he had withstood my first test. 
 
 This pronounced defeat, at the very beginning of our 
 proposed contest, produced a depressing effect ; neverthe- 
 less I made an effort at self-control, and seating myself 
 opposite, looked my antagonist in the face. Calm, 
 dignified, with the brow of a philosopher and the counte- 
 
A Remarkable Contest 
 
 329 
 
 nance of a philanthropist, a perfect type of the exquisite 
 gentleman and the cultured scholar, my guest, as serene 
 and complacent as though, instead of an intruder, he were 
 an invited participant of the comforts of my fireside, or 
 even the host himself, laid his hat upon the table, stroked 
 his silvery, translucent beard, and said : 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 I accepted the challenge, for the word, as he empha- 
 sized it, was a challenge, and hurled at him, in hopes to 
 catch him unprepared, the following abrupt sentence : 
 
 "I doubt the possibility of the existence of a great 
 cavern such as you have described. The superincumbent 
 mass of earth would crush the strongest metal. No ma- 
 terial known to man could withstand a pressure so great 
 as would overlie an arch as large as that you depict ; ma- 
 terial would succumb even if the roof were made of 
 steel." 
 
 "Do not be so positive," he replied. "By what authority 
 do you make this assertion?' 
 
 "By the authority of common sense as opposed to an 
 unreasonable hypothesis. You should know that there is 
 a limit to the strength of all things, and that no substance 
 is capable of making an arch of thousands of miles, 
 which, according to your assertion, must have been the 
 diameter of the roof of your inland sea." 
 
 "Ah," he replied, "and so you again crush my facts 
 with your theory. Well, let me ask a question." 
 
 "Proceed." 
 
 "Did you ever observe a Rubble resting on a bubble?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you ever place a pipe-stem in a partly filled bowl 
 of soap water, and by blowing through it fill the bowl 
 with bubbles?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you ever calculate the tensile strength of the ma- 
 terial from which you blew the bubble?" 
 
 "No; for soap water has no appreciable strength." 
 
 "And yet you know that a bubble made of suds has not 
 
330 
 
 Etidorhpa 
 
 only strength, but elasticity. Suppose a bubble of energy 
 floating in space were to be covered to the depth of the 
 thickness of a sheet of tissue-paper with the dust of space, 
 would that surprise you?" 
 "No." 
 
 "Suppose two such globes of energy, covered with 
 dust, were to be telescoped or attached together, would 
 you marvel at the fact ?" 
 "No." 
 
 He drew a picture on a piece of paper, in which one 
 line was enclosed by another, and remarked : 
 
 "The pencil mark on this paper is proportionately 
 thicker than the crust of the earth over the earth cavern 
 I have described. Even if it were made of soapsuds, it 
 could revolve through space and maintain its contour." 
 "But the earth is a globe," I interjected. 
 "You do not mean an exact globe?" 
 "No; it is flattened at the poles." 
 
 He took from his pocket 
 two thin rubber balls, one 
 slightly larger than the 
 other. With his knife he di- 
 vided the larger ball, cutting 
 it into halves. He then 
 placed one of the sections 
 upon the perfect ball, and 
 held the arrangement be- 
 tween the gaslight and the 
 wall. 
 
 "See; is not the shadow 
 flattened, as your earth is, 
 at the poles?" 
 
 "Yes ; but the earth is not 
 a shadow." 
 
 "We will not argue that point now," he replied, and 
 then asked : "Suppose such a compound shell as this were 
 to revolve through space and continuously collect dust, 
 most of which at the earth's temperature formed a fluid 
 
 AXIS 
 
 Fig. 33. 
 A A, telescoped energy spheres. 
 
A Remarkable Contest 
 
 331 
 
 (water), would not that dust be propelled naturally from 
 the poles?" 
 
 "Yes ; according to our theory." 
 
 "Perhaps," said he, "the contact edge of the invisible 
 spheres of energy which compose your earth bubbles, for 
 planets are bubbles, that have been covered with water 
 and soil during the time the energy bubble, which is the 
 real bone of the globe, has been revolving through space ; 
 perhaps, could you reach the foundation of the earth dust, 
 you would find it not a perfect sphere, but a compound 
 skeleton, as of two bubbles locked, or rather telescoped 
 together. (See Figure 34.) 
 
 "Are you sure that my guide did not lead me through 
 the space between the bubbles ?" he asked. 
 
 Then he continued : 
 
 "Do not be shocked at axis 
 
 what I am about to assert, 
 for, as a member of mater- 
 ialistic humanity, you will 
 surely consider me irrational 
 when I say that matter, ma- 
 terials, ponderous s u b - 
 stances, one and all, so far 
 as theponderouspart is con- 
 cerned, have no strength." 
 
 "What! no strength?" 
 
 "None whatever." 
 
 I grasped the poker. 
 
 "Is not this matter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I cannot break it." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Have not I strength?" 
 
 "Confine your argument now to the poker ; we will con- 
 sider your person next. You cannot break it." 
 
 "I can break this pencil, though," and I snapped it in 
 his face. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 AXIS 
 
 FIG. 34. 
 
 B B, telescoped energy spheres cov- 
 ered with space dirt, inclosing 
 space between. 
 
332 Etidorhpa 
 
 I curled my lip in disdain, 
 
 "You carry this argument too far." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I can break the pencil, I cannot break the poker ; had" 
 these materials not different strengths there could be no- 
 distinction ; had I no strength I could not have broken 
 either." 
 
 "Are you ready to listen?" he replied. 
 
 "Yes ; but do not exasperate me." 
 
 "I did not say that the combination you call a poker 
 had no strength, neither did I assert that you could not 
 break a pencil." 
 
 "A distinction without a difference; you play upon 
 words." 
 
 "I said that matter, the ponderous side of material sub- 
 stances, has no strength." 
 
 "And I say differently." 
 
 He thrust the end of the poker into the fire, and soon 
 drew it forth red-hot. 
 
 "Is it as strong as before?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Heat it to whiteness and it becomes plastic." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Heat it still more and it changes to a liquid." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Has liquid iron strength?" 
 
 "Very little, if any." 
 
 "Is it still matter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Is it the material of the iron, or is it the energy- called 
 heat that qualifies the strength of the metal ? It seems to 
 me that were I in your place I would now argue that 
 absence of heat constitutes strength," he sarcastically con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "Cool this red-hot poker by thrusting it into a pail of 
 cold water, and it becomes very hard and brittle." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
A Remarkable Contest 333 
 
 "Cool it slowly, and it is comparatively soft and 
 plastic." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The material is the same, is it not ?" 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "What strength has charcoal ?" 
 
 "Scarcely any." 
 
 "Crystallize it, and the diamond results." 
 
 "I did not speak of diamond." 
 
 "Ah ! and is not the same amount of the same material 
 present in each, a grain of diamond and a grain of carbon ? 
 What is present in a grain of diamond that is not present 
 in a grain of carbon?" 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "Answer my question." 
 
 "I cannot." 
 
 "Why does brittle, cold zinc, when heated, become 
 first ductile, and then, at an increased temperature, be- 
 come brittle again? In each case the same material is 
 •present." 
 
 "I do not know ; but this I do know ; I am an organized 
 being, and I have strength of body." 
 
 The old man grasped the heavy iron poker with both 
 hands, and suddenly rising to his full height, swung it 
 about his head, then with a motion so menacing that I 
 shrunk back into my chair and cried out in alarm, seemed 
 about to strike, with full force, my defenceless brow. 
 
 "My God," I shouted, "what have I done that you 
 should murder me?" 
 
 He lowered the weapon, and calmly asked : 
 
 "Suppose that I had crushed your skull — where then 
 would be your vaunted strength?" 
 
 I made no reply, for as yet I had not recovered from the 
 mental shock. 
 
 "Could you then have snapped a pencil? Could you 
 liave broken a reed? Could you even have blown the 
 dov^^n from a thistle bloom ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
334 Etidorhpa 
 
 "Would not vour material bodv have been intact?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Listen," said he. "Matter has no strength, matter 
 obeys spirit, and spirit dominates all things material. 
 Energy in some form holds particles of matter together, 
 and energy in other forms loosens them. 'Tis this im- 
 ponderable force that gives strength to substances, not 
 the ponderable side of the material. Granite crushed is 
 still granite, but destitute of rigidity. Creatures dead 
 are still organic structures, but devoid of strength or 
 motion. The spirit that pervades all material things gives 
 to them form and existence. Take from your earth its 
 vital spirit, the energy that subjects matter, and your so- 
 called adamantine rocks would disintegrate, and sift as 
 dust into the interstices of space. Your so-called rigid 
 globe, a shell of space dust, would dissolve, collapse, and 
 as the spray of a burst bubble, its ponderous side would 
 vanish in the depths of force." 
 
 I sat motionless. 
 
 "Listen," he repeated. "You wrong your own common 
 sense when you place dead matter above the spirit of mat- 
 ter. Atoms come and go in their ceaseless trans- 
 migrations, worlds move, universes circulate, not because 
 they are material bodies, but because as points of matter, 
 in a flood of force, they obey the spirit that can blot out 
 a sun, or dissolve the earth, as easily as it can unlink two 
 atoms. Matter is an illusion, spirit is the reality." 
 
 I felt that he had silenced me against my will, and al- 
 though I could not gainsay his assertions, I determined to 
 study the subject carefully, at my leisure. 
 
 "As you please," he interjected into my musings ; "but 
 since you are so determined, you would better study from 
 books that are written by authors who know whereof they 
 write, and who are not obliged to theorize from specula- 
 tive data concerning the intrastructural earth crust." 
 
 "But where can I find such works? I do not know of 
 any." 
 
 "Then," said he, "perhaps it would be better to cease 
 
A Remarkable Contest 335 
 
 doubting the word of one who has acquired the knowledge 
 to write such a book, and who has no object in mislead- 
 ing you." 
 
 "Still other questions arise," I said. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I consider the account of the intra-earth fungus in- 
 toxicant beyond the realm of fact." 
 
 "In what respect ?" 
 
 "The perfect loss of self that resulted immediately, in 
 an instant, after swallowing the juice of the fungus fruit, 
 so that you could not distinguish between the real guide 
 at your side and the phantom that sprung into existence, 
 is incredible. An element of time is a factor in the oper- 
 ation of nerve impressions." 
 
 "Have you investigated all possible anaesthetics?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
 "Or all possible narcotics?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "How long does it require for pure prussic acid to pro- 
 duce its physiological action?" 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 He ignored my reply, and continued : 
 
 "Since there exists a relative difference between the 
 time that is required for ether and chloroform to produce 
 insensibility, and between the actions and resultant effects 
 of all known anaesthetics, intoxicants and narcotics, I 
 think you are hypercritical. Some nerve excitants 
 known to you act slowly, others quickly ; why not others 
 still instantaneously? If you can rest your assertion on 
 any good basis, I shall gladly meet your questions ; but I 
 do not accept such evidence as you now introduce, and 
 I do not care to argue for both parties." 
 
 Again I was becoming irritated, for I was not satisfied 
 with the manner in which I upheld my part of the 
 argument, and naturally, and as is usually the case with 
 the defeated party, became incensed at my invincible an- 
 tagonist. 
 
336 Etidorhpa 
 
 "Well," I said, "I criticise your credulity. The drunk- 
 ards of the drunkards' cavern were beyond all credence. 
 I cannot conceive of such abnormal creations, even in il- 
 lusion. Had I met with your experiences I would not 
 have supposed, for an instant, that the fantastic shapes 
 could have been aug^ht but a dream, or the result of hal- 
 lucination, while, without a question, you considered them 
 real." 
 
 "You are certainly pressed for subjects about which to 
 complain when you resort to criticising the possibilities 
 in creations of a mind under the influence of a more 
 powerful intoxicant than is known to surface earth," he 
 remarked. "However, I will show you that Nature 
 fashions animals in forms more fantastic than I saw, and 
 that even these figures were not overdrawn" — 
 
 Without heeding his remark, I interrupted his dis- 
 course, determined to have my say : 
 
 "And I furthermore question the uncouth personage 
 you describe as your guide. Would you have me believe 
 that such a being has an existence outside an abnormal 
 thought-creation ?" 
 
 "Ah," he replied, "you have done well to ask these two 
 questions in succession, for you permit me to answer both 
 at once. Listen : The Monkey, of all animals, seems to 
 approach closest to man in figure, the Siamang Gibbon of 
 Asia, the Bald-headed Saki of South America, with its 
 stub of a tail, being nearest. From these types we have 
 great deviations as in the Wanderer of India, with its 
 whiskered face, and the Black Macaque of the Island of 
 Celebes, with its hairy topknot and hairless stub of a tail, 
 or the well-known Squirrel Monkey, with its long supple 
 tail, and the Thumbless Spider Monkey, of South 
 America. Between these types we have among monkeys, 
 nearly every conceivable shape of limb and figure, and in 
 color of their faces and bodies all the shades of the rain- 
 bow. 
 
 "Some Squirrels jump and then sail through the air. 
 The Sloth can barely move on the earth. Ant-eaters have 
 
A Remarkable Contest 337 
 
 no teeth at all, while the Grizzly Bear can crush a gun 
 barrel with its molars. 
 
 "The Duck-billed Platypus of South Australia has the 
 body of a mole, the tail of a raccoon, the flat bill of a duck, 
 and the flipper of a seal, combined with the feet of a rat. 
 It lays eggs as birds do, but suckles its young as do other 
 mammalia. The Opossum has a prehensile tail, as have 
 some monkeys, and in addition a living bag or pouch in 
 which the female carries her tiny young. The young of a 
 kind of tree frog of the genus Hylodes breathe through 
 a special organ in their tails ; the young of the Pipa, a 
 great South American toad, burrow into the skin of the 
 mother, and still another from Chili, as soon as hatched, 
 creep down the throat of the father frog, and find below 
 the jaw an opening into a false membrane covering the 
 entire abdomen, in which they repose in safety. Three 
 species of frogs and toads have no tongue at all, while in 
 all the others the tongue is attached by its tip to the front 
 of the mouth, and is free behind. The ordinary Bullfrog 
 has conspicuous great legs, while a relative, the Coecilia 
 (and others as well) have a head reminding of the frog, 
 but neither tail nor legs, the body being elongated as if 
 it were a worm. The long, slender fingers of a Bat are 
 united by means of a membrane that enables it to fly like a 
 bird, while as a contrast, the fingers of a Mole, its near 
 cousin, are short and stubby, and massive as compared 
 with its frame. The former flies through the air, the 
 latter burrows (almost flies) through the earth. The 
 Great Ant-eater has a curved head which is drawn out 
 into a slender snout, no teeth, a long, slender tongue, a 
 great bushy tail, and claws that neither allow the creature 
 to burrow in the earth nor climb into trees, but which 
 are admirably adapted to tear an ant-hill into fragments. 
 Its close relatives, the Apar and Armadillo, have a round 
 body covered with bony plates, and a short, horny, 
 curved tail, while another relative, the Long-tailed Pango- 
 lin, has a great alligator-like tail which, together with its 
 body, is covered with horny, overlapping scales. 
 
338 Etidorhpa 
 
 "The Greenland Whale has an enormous head occupy- 
 ing more than one-third its length, no teeth, and a throat 
 scarcely larger than that of a sucker fish. The Golden 
 Mole has a body so nearly symmetrical that, were it not 
 for the snout, it would be difficult to determine the 
 location of the head without close inspection, and it has 
 legs so short that, were it not for the powerful claws, they 
 would not be observed at all. The Narwhal has a 
 straight, twisted tusk, a" — 
 
 "Hold, hold," I interrupted ; "do you think that I am 
 concerned in these well-known contras^l in animal struc- 
 ture?" 
 
 "Did you not question the possibility of the description 
 I gave of my grotesque drunkards, and of the form of my 
 subterranean guide?" my guest retorted. 
 
 "Yes ; but I spoke of men, you describe animals." 
 
 "Man is an animal, and between the various species of 
 animals that you say are well known, greater distinctions 
 can be drawn than between my guide and surface-earth 
 man. Besides, had you allowed me to proceed to a de- 
 scription of animal life beneath the surface of the earth, 
 I would have shown you that my guide partook of their 
 attributes. Of the creatures described, one only was of 
 the intra-earth origin — the Mole — and, like my guide, it is 
 practically eyeless." 
 
 "Go on," I said ; " 'tis useless for me to resist. And 
 yet"— 
 
 "And yet what ?" 
 
 "And yet I have other subjects to discuss." 
 
 "Proceed." , 
 
 "I do not like the way in which you constantly criticise 
 science, especially in referring thereto the responsibilities 
 of the crazed anatomist.* It seems to me that he was a 
 monomaniac, gifted, but crazed, and that science was un- 
 fortunate in being burdened with such an incubus." 
 
 "True, and yet science advances largely by the work 
 
 * See Chapter LI. 
 
A Remarkable Contest 339 
 
 of such apparently heartless creatures. Were it not for 
 investigators who overstep the bounds of established 
 methods, and thus criticise their predecessors, science 
 would rust and disintegrate. Besides, why should not 
 science be judged by the rule she applies to others?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Who is more free to criticise religion than the ma- 
 terialistic man of science?" 
 
 "But a religious man is not cruel." 
 
 "Have you not read history? Have you not shuddered 
 at the crimes recorded in the name of the religions of 
 man ?" 
 
 "Yes ; but these cruelties were committed by misguided 
 men under the cloak of the church, or of false religions, 
 during the dark ages. Do not blame religion, but the men 
 who abused the cause." 
 
 "Yes," he added, "you are right ; they were fanatics, 
 crazed beings, men ; yes, even communities, raving mad. 
 Crazed leaders can infuse the minds of the people with 
 their fallacies, and thus become leaders of crazed nations. 
 Not, as I have depicted in my scientific enthusiast, one 
 man alone in the privacy of his home torturing a single 
 child, but whole nations pillaging, burning, torturing 
 and destroying. But this is foreign to our subject. Be- 
 ware, I reiterate, of the science of human biology. The 
 man who enters the field cannot foresee the end, the man 
 who studies the science of life, and records his experi- 
 ments, cannot know the extremes to which a fanatical fol- 
 lower may carry the thought-current of his leader. I 
 have not overdrawn the lesson. Besides, science is now 
 really torturing, burning, maiming and destroying hu- 
 manity. The act of destruction has been transferred from 
 barbarians and the fanatic in religion to the follower of 
 the devotees of science." 
 
 "No; I say, no." 
 
 "Who created the steam engine? Who evolves im- 
 proved machinery? Who creates improved artillery and 
 explosives? Scientific men." 
 
340 Etidorlipa 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "Accumulate the maimed and destroyed each year ; add 
 together the miseries and sorrows that result from the 
 explosions, accidents and catastrophes resulting from 
 science improvements, and the dark ages scarcely offer a 
 parallel. Add thereto the fearful destruction that fol- 
 lows a war among modern nations, and it will be seen that 
 the scientific enthusiast of the present has taken the place 
 of the misguided fanatic of the past. Let us be just. 
 Place to the credit of religion the good that religion has 
 done, place to the credit of science the good that science 
 is doing, and yet do not mistake, both leave in their wake 
 an atmosphere saturated with misery, a road whitened 
 with humanity's bones. Neither the young nor the old are 
 spared, and so far as the sufferer is concerned it matters 
 not whether the person has been racked by the tortures of 
 an inquisition or the sword of an infidel, is shrieking in 
 the agony of a scald by superheated steam or is mangled 
 by an explosion of nitroglycerin." 
 
 Again he hesitated. 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "One of science's most serious responsibilities, from 
 which religion has nearly escaped, is that of supplying 
 thought-food to fanatics, and from this science cannot 
 escape." 
 
 "Explain yourself." 
 
 "Who places the infidel in possession of arguments to 
 combat sacred teachings? Who deliberately tortures 
 animals, and suggests that biological experimentation in 
 the name of science, before cultured audiences even, is 
 legitimate, such as making public dissections of living 
 creatures?" 
 
 "Enough, enough," I cried, thinking of his crazed 
 anatomist, and covering my face with my hands ; "you 
 make my blood creep." 
 
 Then his manner changed, and in his usual mild, 
 pleasant way, he said : 
 
A Remarkable Contest 341 
 
 "Take what I have said kindly ; I wish only to induce 
 your religious part to have more charity for your scientific 
 self, and the reverse. Both religion and science are work- 
 ing toward the good of man, although their devotees are 
 human, and by human errors bring privations, sufferings 
 and sorrows to men. Neither can fill the place of the 
 other; each should extend a helping hand, and have 
 charity for the shortcomings of the other ; they are not 
 antagonists, but workers in one field ; both must stand 
 the criticisms of mutual antagonists, and both have cause 
 to fear the evils of fanaticism within their own ranks more 
 than the attacks of opponents from without. Let the re- 
 ligious enthusiast exercise care ; his burning, earnest 
 words may lead a weak-minded father to murder an 
 innocent family, and yet 'tis not religion that commits the 
 crime. Let the zealous scientific man hesitate ; he piles up 
 fuel by which unbalanced minds or perverted dispositions 
 seek to burn and destroy hopes that have long served the 
 yearnings of humanity's soul. Neither pure religion nor 
 true science is to blame for the acts of its devotees, and 
 yet each must share the responsibility of its human 
 agents." 
 
 "We will discuss the subject no further," I said ; "it is 
 not agreeable." 
 
 Then I continued : 
 
 "The idea of eternity without time is not quite clear 
 to me, although I catch an imperfect conception of the 
 argument advanced. Do you mean to say that when a 
 soul leaves the body, the earth life of the individual, 
 dominated by the soul, is thrown off from it as is the snap 
 of a whip-lash, and that into the point between life and 
 death the hereafter of that mortal may be concentrated?" 
 
 "I simply give you the words of my guide," he replied, 
 "but you have expressed the idea about as well as your 
 word language will admit. Such a conception of eternity 
 is more rational to one who, like myself, has lived through 
 an instant that covered, so far as mind is concerned, a 
 million years of time, than is an attempt to grasp a con- 
 
342 Etidorhpa 
 
 ception of an eternity, without beginning or end, by bas- 
 ing an argument on conditions governing material sub- 
 stances, as these substances are known to man. You have 
 the germ of the idea which may be simply a thought for 
 you to ponder over; you can study the problem at your 
 leisure. Do not, however, I warn you, attempt to com- 
 prehend the notion of eternity by throwing into it the con- 
 ception of time as men accept that term, for the very word 
 time, as men define it, demands that there be both a be- 
 ginning and an end. With the sense of time in one's 
 mind, there can be no conception of the term eternity." 
 
 Then, as I had so often done before, I unwarily gave 
 him an opportunity to enlarge on his theme, to my disad- 
 vantage. I had determined not to ask any questions con- 
 cerning his replies to my criticism, for whenever I had 
 previously done so, the result had been disastrous to me. 
 In this case I unwittingly said : 
 
 "Why do you say that our language will not permit of 
 clearer conceptions than you give ?" 
 
 "Because your education does not permit you to think 
 outside of words ; you are word-bound." 
 
 "You astonish me by making such an arrogant as- 
 sertion. Do you mean to assert that I cannot think with- 
 out using words?" 
 
 "Yes. Every thought you indulge in is circumscribed. 
 You presumably attempt to throw a thought-line forward, 
 and yet you step backward and spin it in words that have 
 been handed you from the past, and, struggle as you may, 
 you cannot liberate yourself from the dead incubus. At- 
 tempt to originate an idea, and see if vou can escape your 
 word-master?" 
 
 "Go on ; I am listening." 
 
 "Scientific men think in scientific language. Poetical 
 men think in poetic language. All educated men use un- 
 spoken words in thinking of their subjects, words that 
 come to them from the past, and enslave their intellect. 
 Thus it is that the novelist cannot make fiction less real 
 
A Remarkable Contest 343 
 
 than is fact ; that scientists cannot commence at the out- 
 side, and build a theory back to phenomena understood. 
 In each case the foundation of a thought is a word that 
 in the very beginning carries to the mind a meaning, a 
 something from the past. Each thought ramification is 
 an offshoot from words that express ideas and govern 
 ideas, yes, create ideas, even dominating the mind. Men 
 speak of ideas when they intend to refer to an image in 
 the mind, but in reality they have no ideas outside of the 
 word sentences they unconsciously reformulate. Define 
 the term idea correctly, and it will be shown that an idea 
 is a sentence, and if a sentence is made of words already 
 created, there can be no new idea, for every word has a 
 fixed meaning. Hence, when men think, they only rear- 
 range words that carry with themselves networks of 
 ideas, and thus play upon their several established mean- 
 ings. How can men so circumscribed construct a new 
 idea or teach a new science?" 
 
 "New words are being created." 
 
 "Language is slowly progressing, but no new word 
 adds itself to a language; it is linked to thought-chains 
 that precede. In order to create a word, as a rule, roots 
 are used that are as established in philology as are build- 
 ing materials in architecture. When a new sound is 
 thrust into a language, its intent must be introduced by 
 words already known, after which it conveys a meaning 
 derived from the past, and becomes a part of mind sen- 
 tences already constructed, as it does of spoken language. 
 Language has thus been painfully and slowly evolved and 
 is still being enlarged, but while new impressions may be 
 felt by an educated person, the formulated feeling is in- 
 separable, from well-known surviving words." 
 
 "Some men are dumb." 
 
 "Yes ; and yet they frame mind-impressions into un- 
 spoken words of their own, otherwise they would be 
 scarcely more than animals. Place an uneducated dumb 
 person in a room with a complicated instrument, and al- 
 
344 Etidorhpa 
 
 though he may comprehend its uses, he cannot do so un- 
 less he frames sense-impressions into, what is to him, a 
 formulated mind-word sequence." 
 
 "But he can think about it." 
 
 "No ; unless he has already constructed previous im- 
 pressions into word-meanings of his own, he cannot think 
 about it at all. Words, whether spoken or unspoken, un- 
 derlie all ideas. Try, if you believe I am mistaken, try to 
 think of any subject outside of words." 
 
 I sat a moment, and mentally attempted the task, and 
 shook my head. 
 
 "Then," said the old man, "how can I use words with 
 established meanings to convey to your senses an entirely 
 new idea? If I use new sounds, strung together, they 
 are not words to you, and convey no meaning; if I use 
 familiar words, they reach backward as well as forward. 
 Thus it is possible to instruct you, by a laborious course 
 of reasoning, concerning a phenomenon that is connected 
 with phenomena already understood by you, for your 
 word-language can be thrust out from the parent stalk, 
 and can thus follow the outreaching branches. However, 
 in the case of phenomena that exist on other planes, or are 
 separated from any known material or force, as is the true 
 conception that envelops the word eternity, there being 
 neither connecting materials, forces, nor words to unite 
 the outside with the inside, the known with the unknown, 
 how can I tell you more than I have done? You are 
 word-bound." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I still believe that I can think outside of 
 words." 
 
 "Well, perhaps after you attempt to do so, and fail 
 again and again, you will appreciate that a truth is a truth, 
 humiliating as it may be to acknowledge the fact." 
 
 "A Digger Indian has scarcely a word-language," I as- 
 serted, loath to relinquish the argument. 
 
 "You can go farther back if you desire, back to primi- 
 tive man ; man without language at all, and with ideas as 
 
A Remarkable Contest 345 
 
 circumscribed as those of the brutes, and still you have 
 not strengthened your argument concerning civilized 
 man. But you are tired, I see." 
 
 "Yes ; tired of endeavoring to combat your assertions. 
 You invariably lead me into the realms of speculation, 
 and then throw me upon the defensive by asking me to- 
 prove my own theories, or with apparent sincerity you 
 advance an unreasonable hypothesis, and then, before I 
 am aware of your purpose, force me to acquiesce because 
 I cannot find facts to confute you. You very artfully 
 throw the burden of proof on me in all cases, for either 
 by physical comparisons that I cannot make, I must dem- 
 onstrate the falsity of your metaphysical assertions, or 
 by abstract reasonings disprove statements you assert to 
 be facts." 
 
 "You are peevish and exhausted, or you would perceive 
 that I have generally allowed you to make the issue, and 
 more than once have endeavored to dissuade you from 
 doing so. Besides, did I not several times in the past 
 bring experimental proof to dispel your incredulity? 
 Have I not been courteous ?" 
 
 "Yes," I petulantly admitted ; "yes." 
 
 Then I determined to imitate his artful methods, and 
 throw him upon the defensive as often as he had done 
 with me. I had finally become familiar with his process 
 of arguing a question, for, instead of coming immediately 
 to his subject, he invariably led by circuitous route to the 
 matter under discussion. Before reaching the point he 
 would manage to commit me to his own side of the sub- 
 ject, or place me in a denfenceless position. So with 
 covert aim I began : 
 
 "I believe that friction is one method of producing 
 heat." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I have been told that the North American Indians 
 make fires by rubbing together two pieces of dry wood." 
 
 "True." 
 
 "I have understood that the light of a shooting star 
 
34^ Etidorhpa 
 
 results from the heat of friction, producing combustion 
 of its particles." 
 
 "Partly," he answered. 
 
 "That when the meteoric fragment of space dust strikes 
 the air, the friction resulting from its velocity heats it to 
 redness, fuses its surface, or even burns its very substance 
 into ashes." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I have seen the spindle of a wheel charred by 
 friction." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I have drawn a wire rapidly through a handkerchief 
 tightly grasped in my hands, and have warmed the wire 
 considerably in doing so." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 I felt that I had him committed to my side of the ques- 
 tion, and I prepared to force him to disprove the pos- 
 sibility of one assertion that he had made concerning his 
 journey. 
 
 "You stated that vou rode in a boat on the underground 
 lake." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "With great rapiditv?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Rapid motion produces friction, I believe?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And heat?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why did not your boat become heated even to red- 
 ness? You rode at the rate of nine hundred miles an 
 hour," I cried exultingly. 
 
 "For two reasons," he calmly replied; "two natural 
 causes prevented such a catastrophe." 
 
 And again he warned me, as he had done before, by 
 saying : 
 
 "While you should not seek for supernatural agencies 
 to account for any phenomena in life, for all that is is 
 
" \VK I'ASSKl) IHKorCH CAVKRNS KlLl.KD WITH CRKKIMNi; KKl'TIl.ES. 
 
A Remarkable Contest 347 
 
 natural, neither should you fail to study the differences 
 that varying conditions produce in results already known, 
 A miracle ceases to be a miracle when we understand the 
 scientific cause underlying the wonder ; occultism is 
 natural, for if there be occult phenomena they must be 
 governed by natural law ; mystery is not mysterious if the 
 veil of ignorance that envelops the investigator is lifted. 
 What you have said is true concerning the heat that re- 
 sults from friction, but — 
 
 "First, the attraction of gravitation was inconsiderable 
 where the boat, to which you refer, rested on the water. 
 
 "Second, the changing water carried away the heat as 
 fast as it was produced. While it is true that a cannon 
 ball becomes heated in its motion through the air, its sur- 
 face is cooled when it strikes a body of water, notwith- 
 standing that its great velocity is altogether overcome by 
 the water. The friction between the water and the iron 
 does not result in heated iron, but the contrary. The 
 water above the rapids of a river has practically the tem- 
 perature of the water below the rapids, regardless of the 
 friction that ensues between these points. Admit, how- 
 ever, that heat is liberated as the result of the friction of 
 solids with water, and still it does not follow that this 
 heat will perceptibly affect the solid. With a boat each 
 particle of water carries the heat away, each succeeding 
 portion of water takes up the heat liberated by that pre- 
 ceding it. Thus the great body of water, over which our 
 boat sped, in obedience to the ordinary law, became 
 slightly warmed, but its effect upon the boat was scarcely 
 perceptible. Your comparison of the motion of a meteor 
 with that of our boat was unhappy. We moved rapidly, 
 it is true, in comparison with the motion of vessels such as 
 you know, but comparison cannot be easily drawn be- 
 tween the velocity of a boat and that of a meteor. While 
 we moved at the rate of many miles a minute, a meteor 
 moves many times faster, perhaps as many miles in a 
 second. Then you must remember that the force of gravi- 
 tation was so slight in our position that" — 
 
34^ Etidorhpa 
 
 "Enough," I interrupted. "We will pass the subject. 
 It seems that you draw upon science for knowledge to 
 support your arguments, however irrational they may be, 
 and then you sneer at this same method of argument when 
 I employ it." 
 
 He replied to my peevish complaint with the utmost 
 respect by calling to my attention the fact that my own 
 forced argument had led to the answer, and that he had 
 simply replied to my attacks. Said he : 
 
 "If I am wrong in my philosophy, based on your science 
 thought, I am right in my facts, and science thought is 
 thus in the wrong, for facts overbalance theory. I ask 
 you only to give me the attention that my statements 
 merit. I am sincere, and aim to serve your interests. 
 Should investigation lead you hereafter to infer that I am 
 in error, at our final interview you can have my con- 
 siderate attention. Be more charitable, please." 
 
 Then he added : 
 
 "Is there any other subject you wish to argue?" 
 
 "Yes," I answered, and again my combativeness arose ; 
 "yes. One of the truly edifying features of your nar- 
 rative is that of the intelligent guide," and I emphasized 
 the word intelligent, and curled up my lip in a sarcastic 
 manner. 
 
 "Proceed." 
 
 "He was verily a wonderful being; an eyeless creature, 
 and yet possessed of sight and perception beyond that of 
 mortal man ; a creature who had been locked in the earth, 
 and yet was more familiar with its surface than a phi- 
 losopher ; a cavern-bred monstrosity, and yet possessed 
 of the mind of a sage; he was a scientific expert, a 
 naturalist, a metaphysical reasoner, a critic of religion 
 and a prophet. He could see in absolute darkness as well 
 as in daylight ; without a compass he could guide a boat 
 over a trackless sea, and could accomplish feats that throw 
 Gulliver and Munchausen into disrepute." 
 
 In perfect composure my aged guest listened to my 
 cynical and almost insulting tirade. He made no effort to 
 
A Remarkable Contest 349 
 
 restrain my impetuous sentences, and when I had finished 
 replied in the polished language of a scholarly gentleman. 
 
 "You state truly, construe my words properly, as well 
 as understand correctly." 
 
 Then he continued musingly, as though speaking to 
 himself: 
 
 "I should be at fault and deserve censure did I permit 
 doubts to be thrown upon so clear a subject, or discredit 
 on so magnanimous a person." 
 
 Turning to me he continued : 
 
 "Certainly I did not intend to mislead you or to be mis- 
 understood, and am pleased to find you so earnest a 
 scholar." 
 
 And then in his soft, mild manner he commenced his 
 detail reply, pouring oil upon the waters of my troubled 
 soul, his sweet, melodious voice being so in contrast to my 
 rash harangue. He began with his expressive and often 
 repeated word, "listen." 
 
 "Listen. You are right, my guide was a being wonder- 
 ful to mortals. He was eyeless, but as I have shown you 
 before, and now swear to the fact, was not sightless ; 
 surely," he said, "surely you have not forgotten that long 
 ago I considered the subject of instinct at length. He 
 predicted the future by means of his knowledge of the 
 past — there is nothing wonderful in that. Cannot a civil 
 engineer continue a line into the beyond, and predict 
 where the projection of that line will strike ; can he not 
 also calculate the effect that a curve will have on his line's 
 destiny? Why should a being conversant with the lines 
 and curves of humanity's journey for ages past not be 
 able to indicate the lines that men must follow in the 
 future? Of course he could guide the boat, in what was 
 to me a trackless waste of water, but you err in asserting 
 that I had said he did not have a guide, even if it were 
 not a compass. Many details concerning this journey 
 have not been explained to you ; indeed, I have acquainted 
 you with but little that I experienced. Near surface earth 
 we passed through caverns filled with creeping reptiles ; 
 
350 Etidorhpa 
 
 through others we were surrounded by flying creatures, 
 neither beast nor bird ; we passed through passages of 
 ooze and labyrinths of apparently interminable intra- 
 earth structures ; to have disported on such features of my 
 journey would have been impracticable. From time to 
 time I experienced strains of melody, such as never before 
 had I conceived, seemingly choruses of angels were sing- 
 ing in and to my very soul. From empty space about me, 
 from out the crevices beyond and behind me. from the 
 depths of my spirit within me, came these strains in notes 
 clear and distinct, but yet indescribable. Did I fancy, or 
 was it real ? I will not pretend to say. Beautiful flowers 
 and structures, gorgeous insects and inexplicable scenes 
 were spread before me. Figures and forms I cannot at- 
 tempt to indicate in word descriptions ever and anon sur- 
 rounded, accompanied, and passed me by. The canvas 
 conceptions of earth-bred artists bring to mind no forms 
 so strange and weird and yet so beautiful as were these 
 compound beings. Restful beyond description was it to 
 drink in the indescribable strains of poetry of motion that 
 I appreciated in the movements of fair creatures I have 
 not mentioned, and it was no less soothing to experience 
 the soul relief wrought by the sounds about me. for 
 musicians know no notes so sweet and entrancing. 
 
 "There were also, in side caverns to which I was led, 
 combinations of sounds and scenes in which floating 
 strains and fleeting figures were interwoven and inter- 
 laced so closely that the senses of both sight and hearing 
 became blended into a single sense, new, weird, strange 
 and inexpressible. As flavor is the combination of odor 
 and taste, and is neither taste nor odor, so these sounds 
 and scenes combined were neither scenes nor sounds, but 
 a complex sensation, new, delicious. Sometimes I begged 
 to be permitted to stop and live forever 'mid those 
 heavenly charms, but with as firm a hand as when help- 
 ing me through the chambers of mire, ooze and creeping 
 reptiles, my guide drew me onward. 
 
 "But to return to the subject. As to my guide being 
 
FI.iJWKKS AM) S'lKlCl TKKS HKAl'lll 11,, INSECTS <;( )K(;KI)IS. 
 
A Remarkable Contest 351 
 
 a cavern-bred monstrosity, I do not remember to have 
 said that he was cavern-bred. Did I say that he was 
 always a cavern being? Did I assert that he had never 
 lived among mortals of upper earth? If so, I do not re- 
 member that part of our conversation. He was surely 
 a sage in knowledge, as you have experienced from my 
 feeble efforts in explaining the nature of phenomena that 
 were to you unknown, and yet have been gained by me 
 largely through his instruction. He was a metaphysician, 
 as you assert; you are surely right; he was a sincere, 
 earnest reasoner and teacher. He was a conscientious 
 student, and did not by any word lead me to feel that he 
 did not respect all religions, and bow to the Creator of 
 the universe, its sciences and its religions. His demeanor 
 was most considerate, his methods faultless, his love of 
 Nature deep, his patience inexhaustible, his sincerity un- 
 impeachable. Yes," the old man said, "you are right in 
 your admiration of this lovely personage, and when you 
 come to meet this being as you are destined yet to do — 
 for know now that you too will some day pass from sur- 
 face earth, and leave only your name in connection with 
 this story of myself — you will surely then form a still 
 greater love and a deeper respect for one so gifted, and 
 yet so self-sacrificing." 
 
 "Old man," I cried, "you mock me. I spoke face- 
 tiously, and you answer literally. Know that I have no 
 confidence in your sailor-like tales, your Marco Polo his- 
 tory." 
 
 "Ah ! You discredit Marco Polo ? And why do you 
 doubt?" 
 
 "Because I have never seen such phenomena, I have 
 never witnessed such occurrences. I must see a thing to 
 believe it." 
 
 "And so you believe only what vou see ?" he queried. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Now answer promptly," he commanded, and his man- 
 ner changed as by magic to that of a master. "Did you 
 ever see Greenland?" 
 
352 Etidorhpa 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Iceland?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "A geyser?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "A whale?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "England?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "France?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "A walrus?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you do not believe that these conditions, coun- 
 tries and animals have an existence?" 
 
 "Of course thev have." 
 
 "Why ?" 
 
 "Others have seen them." 
 
 "Ah," he said ; "then you wish to modify your as- 
 sertion — you only believe what others have seen?" 
 
 "Excepting one person," I retorted. 
 
 Then he continued, seemingly not having noticed my 
 personal allusion : 
 
 "Have you ever seen your heart?" 
 
 I hesitated. 
 
 "Answer," he commanded. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Your stomach?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The back of your head?" 
 
 I became irritated, and made no reply. 
 
 "Answer," he again commanded. 
 
 "I have seen its reflection in a glass." 
 
 "I say no," he replied ; "you have not." 
 
 "You are impudent," I exclaimed. 
 
 "Not at all," he said, good-humoredly ; "how easy it is 
 to make a mistake. I venture to say that you have never 
 seen the reflection of the back of vour head in a mirror." 
 
A Remarkable Contest 353 
 
 "Your presumption astounds me." 
 
 "I will leave it to yourself." 
 
 He took a hand-glass from the table and held it behind 
 my head. 
 
 "Now, do you see the reflection?" 
 
 "No; the glass is behind me." 
 
 "Ah, yes ; and so is the back of your head." 
 
 "Look," I said, pointing to the great mirror on the 
 bureau ; "look, there is the reflection of the back of my 
 head." 
 
 "No; it is the reflection of the reflection in my hand- 
 glass." 
 
 "You have tricked me ; you quibble !" 
 
 "Well," he said, ignoring my remark ; "what do you 
 believe?" 
 
 "I believe what others have seen, and what I can do." 
 
 "Excluding myself as to what others have seen," he 
 said facetiously. 
 
 "Perhaps," I answered, relenting somewhat. 
 
 "Has any man of your acquaintance seen the middle of 
 Africa?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The centre of the earth ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The opposite side of the moon?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "The soul of man?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Heat, light, electricity?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you do not believe that Africa has a midland, 
 the earth a centre, the moon an opposite side, man a soul, 
 force an existence?" 
 
 "You distort my meaning." 
 
 "Well, I ask questions in accord with your suggestions, 
 and you defeat yourself. You have now only one point 
 left. You believe only what you can do?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ^N 
 
354 Etidorhpa 
 
 "I will rest this case on one statement, then, and you 
 may be the judge." 
 
 "Agreed." 
 
 "You cannot do what any child in Cincinnati can ac- 
 complish. I assert that any other man, any other woman 
 in the city can do more than you can. No cripple is so 
 helpless, no invalid so feeble as not, in this respect, to be 
 your superior." 
 
 "You insult me," I again retorted, almost viciously. 
 
 "Do you dispute the assertion seriously?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, let me see you kiss your elbow." 
 
 Involuntarily I twisted my arm so as to bring the elbow 
 toward my mouth, then, as I caught the full force of his 
 meaning, the ridiculous result of my passionate wager 
 came over me, and I laughed aloud. It was a change of 
 thought from the sublime to the ludicrous. 
 
 The white-haired guest smiled in return, and kindly 
 said: 
 
 "It pleases me to find you in good humor at last. I will 
 return to-morrow evening and resume the reading of my 
 manuscript. In the meantime take good exercise, eat 
 heartily and become more cheerful." 
 
 He rose and bowed himself out. 
 
CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 WHY AND HOW. 
 
 (Confronting mankind there stands a sphinx — the vast Un- 
 known.) 
 
 Then spoke I-Am-The-Man. 
 
 "Confronting mankind there stands a sphinx — the 
 vast Unknown. However well a man may be informed 
 concerning a special subject, his farthermost outlook is 
 bounded by an impenetrable infinity." 
 
 "Granted," I interrupted, "that mankind has not by 
 any means attained a condition of perfection, yet you 
 must admit that questions once regarded as inscrutable 
 problems are now illuminated by the discoveries of 
 science." 
 
 "And the 'discovered,' as I shall show, has only trans- 
 ferred ignorance to other places," he replied. "Science 
 has confined its labors to superficial descriptions, not the 
 elucidation of the fundamental causes of phenomena." 
 
 "I cannot believe this, and question if you can prove 
 what you say." 
 
 "It needs no argument to illustrate the fact. Science 
 boldly heralds her descriptive discoveries, and as carefully 
 ignores her explanatory failures. She dare not attempt 
 to explain the why even of the simplest things. Why 
 does the sparrow hop and the snipe walk? Do not tell 
 me this is beneath the notice of men of science, for science 
 claims that no subject is outside her realm. Search your 
 works on natural history and see if your man of science, 
 who describes the habits of these birds, explains the rea- 
 son for this evident fact. How does the tree-frog change 
 its color? Do not answer me in the usual superficial 
 manner concerning the reflection of light, but tell me why 
 
356 Etidorhpa 
 
 the skin of that creature is enabled to perform this 
 function? How does the maple-tree secrete a sweet, 
 wholesome sap, and deadly nightshade, growing in the 
 same soil and living on the same elements, a poison? 
 What is it that your scientific men find in the cells of root 
 or rootlet, to indicate that one may produce a food, and 
 the other a noxious secretion that can destroy life ? Your 
 microscopist will discuss cell tissues learnedly, will speak 
 fluently of physiological structure, will describe organic 
 intercellular appearances, but ignore all that lies beyond. 
 Why does the nerve in the tongue respond to a sensation, 
 and produce on the mind the sense of taste? What is it 
 that enables the nerve in the nose to perform its dis- 
 criminative function ? You do not answer. Silver is 
 sonorous, lead is not ; why these intrinsic dififerences ? 
 Aluminum is a light metal, gold a heavy one ; what reason 
 can you offer to explain the facts other than the inade- 
 quate term density? Mercury at ordinary temperature is 
 a liquid ; can your scientist tell why it is not a solid? Of 
 course any one can say because its molecules move freely 
 on each other. Such an answer evades the issue ; why do 
 they so readily exert this action ? Copper produces green 
 or blue salts ; nickle produces green salts ; have you ever 
 been told why they observe these rules ? Water solidifies 
 at about thirty-two degrees above your so-called zero ; 
 have you ever asked an explanation of your scientific 
 authority why it selects that temperature? Alcohol dis- 
 solves resins, water dissolves gums ; have you any ex- 
 planation to offer why either liquid should dissolve any- 
 thing, much less exercise a preference? One species of 
 turtle has a soft shell, another a hard shell ; has your 
 authority in natural history told you why this is so ? The 
 albumen of the egg of the hen hardens at one hundred 
 and eighty degrees Fahrenheit ; the albumen of the eggs 
 of some turtles cannot be easily coagulated by boiling the 
 egg in pure water ; why these differences ? Iceland spar 
 and dog-tooth spar are identical, both are crystallized car- 
 bonate of lime ; has your mineralogist explained why this 
 
Why and How 357 
 
 one substance selects these different forms of crystal- 
 lization, or why any crystal of any substance is ever pro- 
 duced? Why is common salt white and charcoal black? 
 Why does the dog lap and the calf drink? One child has 
 black hair, another brown, a third red ; why ? Search 
 your physiology for the answer and see if your learned 
 authority can tell you why the life-current makes these 
 distinctions? Why do the cells of the liver secrete bile, 
 and those of the mouth saliva ? Why does any cell secrete 
 anything? A parrot can speak; what has your anatomist 
 found in the structure of the brain, tongue or larynx of 
 that bird to explain why this accomplishment is not as 
 much the birthright of the turkey? The elements that 
 form morphine and strychnine also make bread, one a 
 food, the other a poison ; can your chemist offer any rea- 
 son for the fact that morphine and bread possess such 
 opposite characters? The earth has one satellite, Saturn 
 is encompassed by a ring; it is not sufficient to attempt 
 to refer to these familiar facts ; tell me, does your earth- 
 bound astronomer explain why the ring of Saturn was 
 selected for that planet ? Why are the salts of aluminum 
 astringent, the salts of magnesium cathartic, and the salts 
 of arsenum deadly poison? Ask your toxicologist, and 
 silence will be your answer. Why will some substances 
 absorb moisture from the air, and liquefy, while others 
 become as dry as dust under like conditions? Why does 
 the vapor of sulphuric ether inflame, while the vapor of 
 chloroform is not combustible, under ordinary conditions ? 
 Oil of turpentine, oil of lemon, and oil of bergamot differ 
 in odor, yet they are composed of the same elements ; 
 why should they possess such distinctive, individual char- 
 acteristics? Further search of the chemist will explain 
 only to shove the word why into another space, as ripples 
 play with and toss a cork about. Why does the newly 
 born babe cry for food before its intellect has a chance for 
 worldly education ? Why" — 
 
 "Stop," I interrupted ; "these questions are absurd." 
 "So some of your scientific experts would assert," he 
 
358 Etidorhpa 
 
 replied ; "perhaps they would even become indignant at 
 my presumption in asking them, and call them childish ; 
 nevertheless these men cannot satisfy their own cravings 
 in attempting to search the illimitable, and in humiliation 
 or irritation, they must ignore the word Why. That word 
 Why to man dominates the universe. It covers all phe- 
 nomena, and thrusts inquiry back from every depth. 
 Science may trace a line of thought into the infinitely 
 little, down, down, beyond that which is tangible, and at 
 last in that far distant inter-microscopical infinity, mon- 
 strous by reason of its very minuteness, must rest its 
 labors against the word Why. Man may carry his super- 
 ficial investigation into the immeasurably great, beyond 
 our sun and his family of satellites, into the outer depths 
 of the solar system, of which our sun is a part, past his 
 sister stars, and out again into the depths of the cold 
 space channels beyond ; into other systems and out again, 
 imtil at last the nebulae shrink and disappear in the gloom 
 of thought-conjecture, and as the straggling ray of light 
 from those farthermost outreaches, too feeble to tell of its 
 origin or carry a story of nativity, enters his eye, he covers 
 his face and rests his intellect against the word Why. 
 From the remote space caverns of the human intellect, 
 whether we appeal to conceptions of the unknowable in 
 the infinitely little, or the immeasurably great, we meet 
 a circle of adamant, as impenetrable as are the frozen 
 cliffs of the Antarctic, that incomprehensible word — 
 Why! 
 
 "Why did the light wave spring into his field of per- 
 ception by reflection from the microscopic speck in the 
 depths of littleness, on the one hand ; and how did this 
 sliver of the sun's ray originate in the depths of inter- 
 stellar space, on the other?" 
 
 I bowed my head. 
 
CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 I SEEK A CONFIDANT. 
 
 The more I thought over the foregoing incidents the 
 more dissatisfied did I become with the part I, Llewellyn 
 Drury, had taken therein. 
 
 It became evident that my personality had been domi- 
 nated by a man experienced in many phases of life's study, 
 as yet unknown to me, and as I revolved the matter in my 
 mind I became convinced that not only had I been craftily 
 toyed with, but had been personally discredited. These 
 thoughts were naturally exasperating, and, as I felt the 
 spirit of rebellion arise within me, I became vindictive. I 
 not only wanted to exculpate myself before myself, but I 
 also wished to prove to the man in whose power I had been 
 time and again that I was no longer a subject to his 
 dominating will. With this thought in mind I did what 
 I should have done long before, and would have done 
 but for my former rebuke by Professor Chickering, 
 sought advice from another. There is consolation in com- 
 pany, even if neither participant can assist the other. 
 In the beginning of life, before we become arrogant and 
 self-conceited, we seek the solace of those about us, and 
 in the end of life, after we become aware that "all, all is 
 vanity," we turn again to the companionship of our fel- 
 low-men. In the beginning of my experience with this 
 strange being, I had sought the advice of one I hoped to 
 
 * The following chapters were left out of Etidorhpa preceding 
 the first popular edition, which corresponds with what would have 
 been the eleventh Cincinnati edition. Let us hope that the reader 
 who has followed the work to this point may find that these chap- 
 ters make an appropriate ending to this "remarkable story," and a 
 fitting farewell to Llewelivn Drury and his mysterious guest, 
 I-Am-The-Man-Who-Did-It. 
 
360 Etidorhpa 
 
 lean upon, and now, when the indications pointed to the 
 closing episode, I turned again to that humanity of which 
 I was a part. 
 
 Seeking an aged scientific friend, in whom I had every 
 confidence, and in whom I could trust implicitly, I opened 
 my heart and gave without reservation, in minutest detail, 
 all that I knew of the history that has been herein re- 
 lated. Instead of passing the story as the fantasia of a 
 disordered mind he received it in attentive earnestness. 
 
 "There are, I believe," said he, "psychological con- 
 ditions that are as yet misconstrued, and there are others 
 unknown. Indeed," he added, "it seems to me that your 
 guest has more than once aimed to lead you to infer that 
 your mind could be dominated by that of another, as for 
 example, with the hydrostatic experiment when he asked 
 you if you were sure your perception was normal and re- 
 ferred to the influence his presence exerted over your 
 mind. He has seemingly played on your credulity, and 
 knowingly in all arguments has taken what is, according 
 to our present logic, the weak side, aiming to convince 
 you that the other (natural) side is unreal. In several 
 cases it seems as though he made statements that cannot 
 be true, and then artfully toyed with your mind until he 
 actually led you to reason them out as natural." 
 
 "Name some of these statements." 
 
 "Vitalized darkness is one. It is preposterous to argue 
 that a ray of energy- exists that can penetrate opaque 
 bodies. Such a condition would discredit science. With 
 the disproving of this irrational myth story concerning 
 the light that penetrates opaque bodies his skilfully de- 
 vised earth illumination disappears. There cannot be 
 such a ray of energy. Next, the statement concerning 
 new elements in the atmosphere is false. If chemists have 
 established any point absolutely it is the constitution of 
 the air. In making this assertion he has discredited Gul- 
 liver, for science has positively demonstrated that oxygen, 
 hydrogen and nitrogen, with traces of well-known 
 gaseous impurities, are all there is of air. 
 
I Seek a Confidant 361 
 
 "And now I would call to your attention that the ob- 
 ject you perceived and accepted so thoughtlessly as a 
 brain view is a retina reflection. Purkinje, as your in- 
 genious visitor probably very well knew, demonstrated 
 that fact fifty years ago, conclusively so far as science is 
 concerned, and since that time the phenomenon has been 
 known as Purkinje's tracings or shadows. 
 
 "Your visitor should be credited with broad knowledge, 
 keen penetration and great sagacity. His methods cer- 
 tainly excite my admiration, and it is by no means assured 
 that despite his erratic methods he does not propose to 
 serve his fellow-men. He is evidently studying mind ex- 
 pressions and conveying thought prints. He has most 
 admirably proven that to you facts may become fallacies, 
 and fallacies may become facts, but he has not clearly 
 differentiated between fact and fancy. Indeed, it seems 
 as though he knows more than he tells, but feels that 'tis 
 best to stir the thought stuff in your own self, and then let 
 you find out for yourself that which he could tell you were 
 he so inclined. You need not be at all disturbed. You 
 are probably very susceptible to subtile reasonings; in- 
 deed, it is questionable if your visitor need now enter the 
 room in order to dominate your mind and make you see 
 unreal things, as well as overlook things that exist." 
 
 Again I became irritated, for while my confidant had 
 not asserted that my mind was disordered, as had Pro- 
 fessor Chickering, he had humiliated me by arguing that 
 I was mentally subject to the will of another. I sat in 
 revery a moment, and then said: "Are you willing to 
 meet this personage?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Will you conceal yourself in my room to-morrow 
 evening?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Then I will place myself under your direction, and at 
 the proper moment will confront you with him." 
 
 "If such is to be, you must exercise greater self-con- 
 trol than you have done heretofore." 
 
362 Etidorhpa 
 
 In detail then my friend laid down our line of action. 
 When he departed I felt great pleasure in the comfort de- 
 rived from the fact that I had now a confidant, and also 
 in the certainty that together we could dispossess my 
 strange mind-master, for I now felt convinced that I had 
 been toyed with by a man educated in directions outside 
 the lines of study that are as yet open to ordinary 
 students. My thoughtless, empirical experimentation had 
 probably been discovered by some means best known to 
 I-Am-The-Man, and had led the master to seek my per- 
 son. He was now wielding me as a moulder moulds a 
 figure of putty — for what ? 
 
CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 ^TIS NOT THE EYE, BUT THE BRAIN, THAT SEES AN OBJECT. 
 
 Promptly at eight o'clock the following evening my 
 aged visitor knocked at the door, and upon entering the 
 room conducted himself in the most conventional manner. 
 I had purposely placed his chair in the line of vision from 
 the large wardrobe, within which my scientific friend had 
 been comfortably secreted, and from which my guest 
 could be seen through a crack in the door without the 
 hidden man being perceived. Every precaution had been 
 taken to prevent the seer from suspecting the presence of 
 my friend, the objects removed from the wardrobe were 
 out of sight, as were also the cane and hat of my friend. 
 
 My visitor seated himself, and said : "Let us now 
 continue the reading of the manuscript." 
 
 "No," I replied, "we will not." 
 
 He looked at me in apparent wonder, and asked : "What 
 is your will?" 
 
 "I will that vou listen to me," I said in a firm tone. 
 
 "Well ?" 
 
 "You are playing with me, are using me for a hidden 
 purpose ; are neither reading a narrative nor relating 
 facts." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "I will no longer submit to this imposition." 
 
 "Name your grievance, and if possible I will serve 
 you," he said, pleasantly. 
 
 "You have by some psychological power bound my at- 
 tention and compelled my mind to obedience. You have 
 forced me to see things that are not, and to overlook 
 things that are." 
 
 "Name them." 
 
 I took from my pocket the carefully prepared paper of 
 
364 Etidorhpa 
 
 my scientific friend which I had copied in mv own hand, 
 and read as follows : 
 
 "No cavern such as you name has been discovered in 
 Kentucky. You bring no evidence to show that the 
 steamer George Washington ran the Ohio River as early 
 as 1826. You assert that energy from the sun penetrates 
 opaque bodies, even earthy matters. You claim that un- 
 seen rays of energy can be vivified and made visible. 
 You pretend that water can rise above its level, and thus 
 by molecular force between solutions of varying gravity 
 produce artesian wells by processes different from those 
 accepted by geologists. You claim that the centre of 
 gravitation is not the centre of the earth. You assert that 
 the earth is hollow and that it is not matter that has 
 weight, but that weight is an energy expression associated 
 therewith, but which may exist free from matter. You as- 
 sert that material has no strength, for that quality also 
 you claim to be simply an expression of atomic and molec- 
 ular energies. You assert that the prism does not de- 
 compose the sun's energy into its ultimates, but that 
 the spectrum produced by a prism is a something 
 scraped oflF from the light rays, the main ray passing di- 
 rectly through the prism. You claim also that rays exist 
 that the prism cannot deflect and that as yet no device of 
 man can enable him to appreciate. You claim further that 
 the rays of the spectrum known to man are not ultimates, 
 and that when they are finally dissociated, or again de- 
 flected, colors and conditions new to man will become evi- 
 dent. You assert that as yet man, because of his narrow 
 mind, knows but little of the energy that pervades his 
 sphere, and you assert that unknown forces permeate his 
 very being. Yes," I cried, becoming almost frantic as I 
 read, "yes, and at last you submit to me an experiment 
 fifty years old, and craftily make me believe that I am 
 looking at my brain when I really see the venation of the 
 retina." 
 
 "Is that all ?" he mildly asked. 
 
 "It is enough." 
 
*Tis Not the Eye, But the Brain 365 
 
 "No," he replied, "it is not enough. You might have 
 added that you have heretofore been a slave to your 
 master, one-sided science, based mainly on experimenta- 
 tion in certain limited directions, and have never been able 
 to think outside of the narrow lines she prescribes. You 
 might have said that never Eastern slave master, standing 
 with whip in hand, more effectually crushed to earth a 
 crouching supplicant than has this master crushed you 
 and such as you. You might have added that the time of 
 liberation is at hand and that, too, through the agency of 
 that same science, for the wildest speculations of seem- 
 ingly erratic dreamers is to be soon verified. You might 
 have added much that I did not tell you and which is less 
 probable than anything you have named as being improb- 
 able." 
 
 "Name one thing." 
 
 "You might have said that space outside the lines 
 drawn from orb to orb is empty, an absolute void so far 
 as man is now concerned." 
 
 "What, you astound me with your impudence." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "because it is true." 
 
 "Look," I said, and, leading him to the window, I 
 pointed to the starrv heavens. "Look." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Can light and heat pass through a vacuum, a perfect 
 vacuum ?" 
 
 "I did not assert that a vacuum stands between each 
 world, each sun, each satellite and sun." 
 
 "You assuredly did." 
 
 "Listen," he said. "You misconstrue my words. I said 
 as far as man is concerned outside the lines drawn from 
 orb to orb," and, returning to his chair, he seated himself. 
 "Listen to reason. Call your aged friend from the ward- 
 robe. It is unkind to keep him longer in so uncomfort- 
 able a location. Besides, he wishes to join in the con- 
 versation." 
 
 I stood dumbfounded. 
 
 "You seem to forget what is proper," he remarked 
 
366 Etidorhpa 
 
 again, exactly as he had remarked at an early interview, 
 and, opening the wardrobe door, he coolly invited my 
 friend into the room. Taking him by the hand and look- 
 ing him intently in the eye, The-Man-Who-Did-It said: 
 
 "You have questioned my personage and my mission, 
 for which you certainly cannot be criticised. Be seated. 
 And now for the figures of Purkinje," he added, joining 
 in our former private conversation as though by request, 
 "you are right and you are wrong. You are right in that 
 Purkinje issued a pamphlet and wrote on the subject of 
 retina venation shadows ; you are wrong in accepting that 
 the retina sees an object, for it does not. The real picture 
 is not the shadow and is not the retina scene, but the im- 
 pression made on the brain, to which a form of energy 
 that you cannot now define and do not know carries the 
 figure of that which is seemingly seen. So far as men's 
 senses are concerned, an object seen is not always real, the 
 only reality to man is the impression in the brain." 
 
 I looked at my new companion, awaiting his reply. 
 
 "You are mistaken," he asserted ; "an object seen is 
 real." 
 
 "No," the guest replied ; "not necessarily ; the object you 
 perceive may not have an existence. It may not be 
 situated where you think you see it. The impression on 
 the retina may be so positive as to be beyond controversy, 
 and yet tell a falsehood that the brain must correct." 
 
 "I am looking at that lamp shade," my companion re- 
 plied. "I perceive distinctly the small figures on it ; it is 
 there and real." 
 
 The guest whirled him around so that he faced the 
 mirror. "See," he said, "is not the lamp shade in the 
 mirror?" 
 
 "No, that is a reflection." 
 
 "Of what?" 
 
 "Of the lamp shade." 
 
 "From what?" 
 
 "From the mirror." 
 
 "Does the lamp shade seem to be on the mirror ?" 
 
*Tis Not the Eye, But the Brain 367 
 
 "No, far behind it." 
 
 "You know it is not behind the mirror?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "You know also that it is not on the face of the 
 mirror?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How do you know this ?" 
 
 "By my knowledge of the laws of reflection." 
 
 "How do you know it is a reflection?" 
 
 "The real lamp is behind me." 
 
 "You are only giving an opinion, basing your opinion 
 on what you assert you see in a place you know there is no 
 lamp. You do not see the reflection and yet claim to do 
 so. You actually see the lamp on the table behind you, 
 and yet claim not to see it. You reason yourself into a 
 self-evident fallacy. If you had not previously seen the 
 lamp behind you, and that mirror had been set in a win- 
 dow frame so that you would not have suspected it to be 
 a mirror, you would probably have accepted without ques- 
 tion that you were looking into another room and were 
 observing another lamp." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You therefore see the lamp where it is not." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You believe, however, since your reason states that the 
 lamp is on the table, that what you see is the reflection." 
 
 "Surely." 
 
 "The reflection comes from the metallic surface on the 
 back of the glass ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Now, let me say to you that you do not see the re- 
 flection — you see the lamp as much now as when you turn 
 your eyes directly upon it. If you see the real lamp at 
 all, you see it when you look toward that mirror." 
 
 "This I deny." 
 
 "Ah," he said, seemingly breaking the thought line, 
 "I perceive that you wear spectacles. Please step to the 
 
368 Etidorhpa 
 
 lamp shade on the table, and examine the figures closely ; 
 read that inscription on the transparency." 
 
 My companion did so, holding his face about eighteen 
 inches from the inscription ; then he looked inquiringly at 
 the guest. 
 
 "Be seated again, and let me ask you, where do you see 
 the reflection of the lamp shade? Is it on the face of the 
 mirror or beyond it ?" 
 
 'Tar beyond it." 
 
 "You do not claim that the rays really penetrate the 
 quicksilver ?" 
 
 "No; the reflecting surface is the mercury on the glass. 
 The image of this lamp shade is reflected from that metal- 
 lic surface, according to well-known laws." 
 
 The old man led my companion to the glass, and said, 
 "If the image of the shade is reflected from the glass, the 
 motto you have read is thrown from the glass, and you 
 should be able to read the motto on the glass that reflects 
 the engraving when you focus your eyes upon it through 
 your spectacles. Please read the motto on the glass sur- 
 face." My friend stepped to the mirror, and attempted 
 to do as directed, and failed to accomplish the result. 
 
 "The image is not on the glass, nor yet on the quick- 
 silver, I perceive, and so you do not see the reflection 
 from the glass, as you asserted," said the guest. "Per- 
 haps the motto is really behind the glass." 
 
 "Preposterous." 
 
 "Let us see. If it is behind the glass a telescope should 
 focus it." 
 
 Taking my opera glasses from the table the intruding 
 guest handed them to his companion, and said, "Focus 
 them on the object you think you perceive behind the 
 glass, and yet presume to argue is not there, and tell me 
 if vou cannot now read the motto." 
 
 "Yes, plainly." 
 
 "How consistent. You know the lamp shade is not 
 there ; you know that the reflection is not from that point 
 but from the glass, and yet you assert that you perceive 
 
'Tis Not the Eye, But the Brain 369 
 
 the motto where neither the substance nor the shadow can 
 be, and cannot read the motto on the glass surface, from 
 which, on the other hand, you claim you see the lamp re- 
 flected." 
 
 "I can explain this apparent inconsistency." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "The angle of incidence is equal to the angle of re- 
 flection." 
 
 "Of course ; go on." 
 
 "The ray of light passes to the mirror, and is deflected 
 to my eye." 
 
 "Go on." 
 
 "I therefore see the reflection of the object apparently 
 behind the mirror." 
 
 "My friend," said the old guest, "you have given the 
 usual roundabout explanation for a very simple phe- 
 nomenon, but it is not altogether satisfactory. You go 
 around the tree and come back in order to examine the 
 bark that faces you and then you talk in circles when you 
 try to describe it. Now listen, my friend. You do not 
 see the reflection, you simply look at the lamp shade which 
 is behind you through a bent ray of light. While it is 
 true that the angle of incidence is equal to the angle of 
 reflection, that fact has nothing to do with the sight phe- 
 nomenon. Why do you not say that the mirror bends the 
 bundle of light rays, and that your eye receives the im- 
 pressions imparted by the bent message before your brain 
 does ? The intellect has no power to see the bend or angle 
 of that ray ; it knows nothing of its path or journey and 
 the impression received tells nothing about the mirror that 
 rests between that object and yourself. The lamp shade 
 is actually as far from your eye as are the combined dis- 
 tances of the shade and your eye from the glass when 
 you look toward the shade in the mirror depths. It seems 
 exactly that distance behind the glass because of the laws 
 of perspective, and because you cannot appreciate the 
 bend in your light ray. The one thing that exists, if any- 
 thing exists in this phenomenon, is this bend in the ray 
 
370 Etidorhpa 
 
 of light, and that you cannot see. That which is you do 
 not see (the bend in the ray), and that which is not (the 
 reflection behind the glass) you assert that you do see. If 
 you saw the image on the glass your spectacles would 
 bring it into focus on the glass, but fail to do so. When 
 you focused the opera glasses exactly as far as the shade 
 is from your eye, counting the bend in the ray, you then 
 asserted that you saw the inscription thereon. If a photog- 
 rapher had designed to take a picture of the motto from 
 the so-called reflection he would also have had to focus 
 the camera on the real lamp shade, not on the mirror. 
 This he could do by virtue of the bent ray of light. Is it 
 not irrational to assert that an object exists where it is 
 not?" 
 
 "I see the lamp shade through the bent ray of light, 
 which, in other words, is your manner of telling what I 
 said." 
 
 "No, I did not say you saw the lamp shade." 
 
 "Old man, you exasperate me; 'tis your own argu- 
 ment." 
 
 "It is not." 
 
 My friend gazed at him in astonishment. 
 
 "I am tired," I interrupted ; "tired of this folly. You 
 twist facts to suit yourself, and prove one day by argu- 
 ments that another day you use to disprove." 
 
 "Yes, and your masters in science teach you to-day that, 
 what they taught yesterday were fallacies. You once 
 made the assertion that you saw your reflection in the 
 mirror, to which I added, 'No, not the reflection, but the 
 reflection of the reflection.' Could I have taken time then 
 to give you this lesson? I have overlooked many er- 
 roneous statements that you have made, and have myself 
 used several human failings in order to be understood. 
 Many things that might have been studied have been 
 passed in silence ; they could not be taken up on the 
 moment. Are you through?" he asked. 
 
 "No. You asserted this evening that space is empty, 
 and vou know that it is filled with sun's rays." 
 
'Tis Not the Eye, But the Brain 371 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 I stood dumbfounded. 
 
 "I said that so far as men's faculties of observation are 
 concerned space is empty." 
 
 "Ah," I sneered." 
 
 "Yes, a perfect blank." 
 
 "No ether of Aristotle therein?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No sunshine?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No heat?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No electricity?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Either you are the most arrogant of mortals, or we are 
 fools." 
 
 "Neither condition is a necessity. Let's reason the mat- 
 ter out. It is usual for astronomers and mathematicians 
 to calculate concerning the enormous amount of energy 
 that the sun pours into space. On what premise do they 
 base their calculations?" he turned to my student friend. 
 
 "They calculate from the amount the earth receives," 
 was the reply. 
 
 "Ah. Now, what evidence have they to show that the 
 sun is throwing the same amount of energy elsewhere into 
 space ?" 
 
CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 THE VISION OF THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE. 
 
 "Listen," said I-Am-The-Man. "Let us imagine that 
 strings extend from your eye out into this room. Let us 
 imagine that gravitation, not Hght, produces the sensation 
 that you call sight, and that this force follows the strings. 
 A string then becomes transparent to this sense of sight. 
 
 "Let us imagine that the extremities of these strings end 
 in knobs and that these knobs are the exciting points, and 
 thus severally impress the eye. Each string becomes a 
 medium capable of conveying the energy that gives to the 
 brain behind the eye the figure of the knob at the ex- 
 tremity of the string. 
 
 "Every string is simply a channel or path that leads di- 
 rectly from the brain, through the eye, to the knob ex- 
 tremity. The knob is at one end, the brain at the other, 
 all between the slender strings is as vacancy. Let us 
 imagine now that the observer, from what he knows, is 
 asked to give his impression of the amount of energy 
 these balls are throwing out. The decision will be that in 
 all directions they throw off the same amount, thus per- 
 vading all space between the strings with the exciting 
 energy in proportion to that which the eye receives. These 
 balls only are seen by the brain ; nothing else has ever 
 been seen, nothing is known concerning the vast space 
 between the radiating strings. 
 
 "Now as to your sun, the stars, the planets. These 
 bodies are, so far as men know, connected with each other 
 by energy channels apparently conveying heat and light 
 as well as other force expressions. No evidence exists 
 to show that these channels do not convey all the energy 
 corollated by these bodies, all of it. At present, we can 
 see by means of one of these forces of energy, one only, 
 
The Vision of the Future of Science 373 
 
 light, but in the time to come men will see by means of 
 others. As before remarked, a pleasant pastime for some 
 men is the calculation of the amount of energy the sun 
 throws into space, basing their figures on the amount they 
 believe the earth receives. However, since they have 
 never seen anything outside the channels that lead di- 
 rectly from the earth to the sun, and the other heavenly 
 bodies, they have no evidence to show that any energy 
 whatever passes outside the threads that connect the 
 heavenly bodies. They guess only, and, as is usual with 
 guesses, ridiculously. So far as space is concerned man 
 has no data to indicate that a sliver of energy of any kind 
 whatever escapes into space. Indeed, he accepts that 
 gravitation exists only in lines connecting matter with 
 matter, and because certain modifications of force radiate 
 in all directions in his matter-surrounded vessels (as, for 
 example, a hot iron ball in a vacuum glass), assumes that 
 known forces pass in all directions correspondingly from 
 planets and sun into space. Man has never seen outside 
 the lines that connect his earth with the other planets and 
 suns, which (the suns), like ganglii or nerve centres, are 
 simply reservoirs in this complicated network. All the 
 space between these channels and without these ganglii 
 is to man as black as darkness can be, a void. Wherever 
 a line crosses another a sun springs into existence. Thus, 
 as knots in a fisherman's net where cross the strings, so 
 do the points of intersection of the channels of energy be- 
 come as suns, and thus as a monstrous net in space these 
 streams of energy, interlaced, are together moving 
 through and sweeping infinity's chamber. Snap a line of 
 energ\% and the sun beyond disappears to us ; intensify it, 
 and the sun flames up ; contract it, and the sun fades out. 
 Thus a star may seem to come and go, may suddenly 
 brighten and as rapidly disappear. 
 
 "Now, let me go a little further in this thought line. 
 Suppose an insect capable of seeing, reasoning, by means 
 of the nerve impressions, rested in the great nerve of the 
 neck vertebra of a living man. To that insect, bone, 
 
374 Etidorhpa 
 
 muscle, veins, blood, tissue of all kinds would have no 
 existence, and the universe outside that human body 
 would be as nothing. Feeling the nerve centres only, and 
 seeing therewith the nerve ganglii, that insect would say : 
 These are sources of energy ; all outside the nerves leading 
 to these centres is a blank. To that insect, only the 
 threads of nerves and the great brain at one extremity 
 would be a reality ; all else would be empty space. If a 
 nerve should die, both the nerve and all beyond and with- 
 out would become a blank. If the person had a dead 
 tooth, regardless of its solidity otherwise, it would not be 
 a tooth to that insect, but vacant space. 
 
 "Do you know," suddenly asked the old man, "do you 
 know how many dead teeth (worn-out suns and planets) 
 are hanging to your earth and sun, giving out no heat, no 
 light, no electricity ; in other words, destitute of gravity 
 and other forms of energy, invisible ? Do you know how 
 many dead worlds hang in space, destitute of gravity, 
 light, heat, energy of all kinds, invisible consequently to 
 you, transparent to your energy? Do you know how 
 many live worlds hang to your sun, but above or below 
 the plane on which your family of planets moves? Do 
 you know how many space mediums, clear as crystal in 
 substance, but opaque as graphite where the surfaces 
 touch, blot out the worlds above and below the plane oc- 
 cupied by our family of planets?" He hesitated. 
 
 "Go on," said my companion, "go on." 
 
 "Now," said my mysterious visitor, "do you know 
 where vour sun is situated?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "No, you do not. The thread of energy that connects 
 your earth with the sun may be twisted, curved, bent, re- 
 flected from unseen surfaces of the space films here and 
 there, and to you it must be straight. This thread is to 
 man on earth the size of the earth ; before it reaches the 
 sun it may shrink to a thread's diameter. If it should 
 snap, your sun would disappear in an instant. You look 
 back toward the sun from this end of the channel ; you 
 
The Vision of the Future of Science 275 
 
 know nothing of the curves and angles between. You 
 saw the lamp shade, not where it is, for you know it to 
 have been behind you. You see the sun and other heavenly 
 bodies even less clearly, for you reason concerning them 
 only from knowledge derived from this end of the line. 
 The other end has never been touched. You see them 
 through channels that, so far as you are concerned, may 
 be straight or crooked, may be spirals or angular, may 
 distort their sizes, shapes and distances. Would you not 
 be surprised to know that from above your atmosphere 
 the sun is invisible? Light is earth-bred." 
 
 Together we sat speechless. Then the Seer asked, 
 "Would you behold the future of science?" 
 
 "Yes," we both answered simultaneously. I-Am-The- 
 Man removed the lamp shade. "Be seated side by side, 
 and look at the lamp as you see it in your glass." We 
 turned our eyes upon the mirror. He stepped behind us, 
 and placed a hand on the forehead of each. "Behold," he 
 said, "behold." 
 
 As he repeated these words the lamp disappeared, the 
 room vanished, things seen dissolved, and things unseen 
 took their places ; things that I dare not say and dare not 
 think about burst into view. To speak of that which en- 
 veloped my spirit during that vision would be to invite 
 crucifixion at the hands of my scientific friends. Per- 
 haps I have already done so. 
 
 When the vision disappeared the old man was gone, 
 and I found my student friend dazed by my side. Seem- 
 ingly we came together back to earth-scenes from that 
 marvellous vision of the future of science concerning 
 which neither of us dared to either speak then or there- 
 after. He arose, grasped my hand, turned to the door. 
 
 "Will you come again?" I asked. 
 
 "No," friend Llewellyn, he said, and silently departed. 
 
 I sat alone in my room, wrapped in thought shadows 
 that come to such as L 
 
 THE END.