My Library

comprehended by the great master before them. For a while an unpleasant silence reigned, which was at length, much to my surprise, broken by my Rosicrucian friend, Beverly, who, looking Ravalette straight in the eye, said: “Whoever you are, I forgive you for the attempt to prevent myself, a son of Adam, wedding with this woman, Evlambéa, the Bright-shining Daughter of Ish; I forgive you for persecuting her toward a marriage with another, which marriage must have doomed me to a fate I have for centuries shrunk from; I forgive you all the woe you have caused me, because gratitude for what you have done for me exacts this; and because I suspect your agent saved my life when the retort burst in Boston, when I was repeating La Brière’s experiment with phosphorus. Through you, or such as you, I have learned priceless secrets. The mystery of Magic Mirrors I am grateful for being taught. The secret of ages —the art of making the Elixir of Life, whereof whosoever shall drink shall never know decay, but so long as once a year he shall quaff thereof, may enjoy perpetual youth—I am inexpressibly thankful for. I shall never use this secret for that purpose, but five of the seven ingredients, when mingled, constitute what chemistry has sought in vain; and bequeathing this portion of the formulæ to my friend, and through him to the medical world, I shall atone for my few faults by giving life to thousands.