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The name Lilian Leslie represents a collaboration 
of Violet Lilian Perkins and Archer Leslie Hood 


Authors’ International Publishing Co. 


Copyright, 1924. by 





A romance in which are interwoven some 
principles of fundamental psychology 
illustrating the creative laws of the super¬ 
conscious mind. 



Have you ever attended an opera on Mars? 
For the benefit of those who have not had that 
privilege and pleasure I am going to relate the 
story of a matinee attended by three lovely chil¬ 
dren one winter afternoon in the month of June. 

Winter in June seems startling to us, but the 
entire principle of life on Mars is an inversion of 
the laws governing our lives here. Planets, like 
human beings and all other forms of creation, 
breathe, as it were, expanding and contracting 
with regularity, and while the period of expan¬ 
sion or contraction may last millions of years it 
is sure to have its beginning and ending. 

Mars has passed through this phase of breath¬ 
ing four times. Each time at the extreme of her 
expansion period she has thrown off a part of 
herself which became fixed within the radius of 
her own law of gravity and held, as it were, be¬ 
tween the two polarities, the positive polarity of 


the sun and the positive polarity of Mars, thus 
holding the relationship of moons to the mother 
planet. At the present time Mars is well devel¬ 
oped on the fifth era of expansion; in fact, so far 
that the relationships of expressive life have 
passed beyond the law of inversion. To make 
this plainer, the sense of vision on Mars de¬ 
pends upon the direct electrical agitation or 
effervescence of objects, flowers or foliage, or any 
other form of creative expression on the surface 
of the planet. That is to say the intensity of the 
motion of cohesion which holds electrons together 
is so slight that the electrons fail to reflect sun¬ 
light and day becomes night, while in the night 
the wonderful effervescence or electrical activity 
of the electrons sends off colors as the flowers on 
this planet send off fragrance. 

The atmospheric pressure on Mars is so slight 
that the inhabitants are obliged to have safety 
signals at a certain distance from the surface of 
the planet beyond which aerial travel becomes 
dangerous. Like the tide of our own ocean, the 
undertow becomes stronger than the incoming 
tide and it is necessary to put out danger signals. 
For on Mars it is as easy to navigate the atmos¬ 
phere as it is for us to swim in the water, but 
just as dangerous when traveling beyond a cer¬ 
tain point in the atmosphere, as it is for a person 
in the ocean to get caught in the strong under- 


tow. There is a point, however, where the law 
of gravity is so slight that anybody with suffi¬ 
cient cohesive activity can gather to himself 
enough voltage to break the law of gravity and 
disappear from the planet. 

You may have expected by my intent to de¬ 
scribe the opera to hear of some wonderful 
singer, but such is not the case, for no personali¬ 
ties participate in the opera except those who per¬ 
form in the orchestra. 

The instruments on Mars are of an entirely 
different nature from those of our orchestras 
here, many of them producing vibratory rates so 
much faster than any which we use that we 
would not be able to hear them at all, but their 
instruments have a direct action on the electrons. 

The opera opens in total darkness, but as the 
music continues, a pale white light becomes vis¬ 
ible which gradually changes color. Little by 
little the complementary colors separate, con¬ 
trolled in their motion and activity by the render¬ 
ing of the most exquisite music imaginable. As 
this music with its crescendos and diminuendos 
continues, these electrons seek companions of 
their own vibratory rate and now, with a motion 
of the baton guiding the performance, they form 
into beautiful creations of flowers and foliage 
until one feels that God has shown His presence. 
Nor are two performances ever the same, each 



opera being an entirely new creation depending 
upon the wonderful genius of the conductor. 

The three children with the exquisite melodies 
of one of the most inspiring of these operas still 
ringing in their ears, left the theatre for their 
return homeward. Enthused by the extreme 
emotional stimulation from this performance, the 
last one they were to hear for many centuries, is 
it a wonder they became over-careless in the 
games that were to follow? 

In the evening when the sun has disappeared, 
a rich purple veil of ethereal delicacy hangs over¬ 
head and in this mysterious atmosphere it is very 
easy to become invisible. On the night which 
this prologue announces, the children were play¬ 
ing at their favorite game, aerial polo. The fas¬ 
cination of this game lay in the tendency of the 
balls, which were made of compressed atmos¬ 
phere—a heavier substance than that of the 
planet—to rise rapidly from the center and mys¬ 
teriously fly off into space. 

The children, filled with the ecstasy of the glor¬ 
ious music they had heard during the afternoon, 
were unusually active and enthusiastic at their 
games and perhaps a little more daring than 
usual. The thrill of the opera seemed to lure 
them into dangerous paths for without hesitation 
or heed they frolicked joyously among the mist 
of flowers. And yet at moments the boy was 


seen by his sister and their young girl companion 
to stop in his playing and dream as if haunted 
by the melody of the opera; then arousing him¬ 
self, the next instant he entered more vigorously 
into the game. 

It was in one of these moments of dreaming 
that the game was forgotten and the balls gained 
great headway and suddenly vanished. The chil¬ 
dren, not realizing how near the danger line they 
were, ran gleefully off in pursuit of the disap¬ 
pearing balls. In another instant they had be¬ 
come enveloped and lost in the purple haze sur¬ 
rounding them and all three vanished as suddenly 
and mysteriously as had their balls. 

It is around the incarnation of these three souls 
that our story is woven. 


To the inner consciousness time and space are 
unknown. Therefore to translate this romance 
to the mind of the reader, we will place the date 
within the Twenty-first Century. 

Emerging from old world conflicts and up¬ 
heavals of every kind involving the human race, 
the people of the early part of the century were 
becoming adjusted to the new era of expansion. 
They entered upon their daily existence with a 
profound intensity and they mad6 rapid strides 
in the creative and scientific fields—they were 
the pioneers of a new epoch in the world's evo¬ 

Deep within a glorious valley sheltei ed on the 
north, east and south by a magnificent chain of 
snow-capped mountains, lies the picturesque City 
of Salt Lake. On its western boundary are the 
blue salt waters of the Great Salt Lake, held 
prisoner by the hills beyond and where innumer¬ 
able sea-gulls have their playground. 

It is here that the glory of the rising and 
setting sun exists in all its extreme splendor, a 


source of inspiration to the artist and weary- 
hearted alike, and to the enthusiasm of creative 
youth. This is the place from which our story 

It is eventide and we turn our glance from 
the picture in the west to catch the reflection on 
the eastern horizon. Just as the sun is begin¬ 
ning to touch the rim of the Occident, pink hues 
steal over the blanketed peaks, leaving traces of 
magic light no brush can duplicate on canvas. 
While the sun is gilding the west, we pause to 
catch the golden sheen reflected by the win¬ 
dows of the universities and dwellings and are 
enchanted by a scene as much like fairyland as 
the mind can conceive. Pent-up cares vanish 
and are forgotten for the moment, if not alto¬ 
gether through the magic of this scene of color- 
istic splendor. But our picture does not long 1 
remain in view for it quickly fades into dull 
twilight and the departing sun flashes to the 
mountains its last evening caress, and the after¬ 
glow has other beauties all its own. 

Melville Vinson was an artist of ability, yet 
the true merit of his work had not been early 
recognized and only in these later years were his 
paintings beginning to meet with the favor of the 
public and the approval of the critics, and at last 
through unceasing toil, he was approaching the 
lofty heights to which he aspired. His art was 


greatly enriched by the wondrous, untamed 
beauty which this historic and lovely valley fur¬ 

His charming wife was deeply devoted to and 
very much in love with her husband, and her in¬ 
terest in his work was a tremendous source of 
inspiration to Melville Vinson. She was a true 
daughter of the Northwest, reared in that Great 
Alaskan country where we find big, clean hearts; 
human emotions stripped of all pretense; souls 
responding to the depth and beauty and voice of 
nature in all her varying moods—where under 
the glow of a rich moon one may wander alone 
through the darkening forests, singing, laughing, 
knowing no fear. Her eyes were of a deep wist¬ 
ful blue, the blue that one sees in the sky of that 
country of ice, snow and grandeur. Her skin 
was clear and delicate and its soft texture was 
accentuated by the dull, haunting gold of her 

They had one child, a lad of eleven—a strange 
boy for one of such tender years. Music had 
early become part of his activities. When at a 
very early age he had displayed an innate talent 
for the violin his father and mother affection¬ 
ately nurtured the blossoming flower. Instead of 
spending his play hours with his boy companions 
he would take his violin and steal away to the side 
of a murmuring stream where his sensitive ear 


caught many of the hidden melodies of the world 
of nature and under the touch of his fingers they 
were put into his own creation. But on many 
occasions he had one other companion, a fair¬ 
haired girl two years his senior, with whom he 
had grown up from early childhood. She, too, 
was very fond of his music and shared the cov¬ 
eted companionship of his violin. As mere chil¬ 
dren playing together she had cultivated an affec¬ 
tion for and interest in him, akin to that of a 
sister’s. She was tenderly sympathetic, under¬ 
standing his childish moods with a woman’s intu¬ 
ition, and they delighted to indulge in dreams of 
future glory when he would be a great musician 
with the world at his feet—rare and wonderful 
dreams of childhood. 

His youthful imagination wove into creation 
fantastic and mysterious melodies, and the rest¬ 
less streams of music coursing through his mind 
brought many changing moods. 

One evening, while seated on the veranda with 
his mother, deeply absorbed, and mechanically 
picking out a tune on his violin, he suddenly 
clasped his mother’s hand and whispered: 

“Oh, mother, see! She is so beautiful, her eyes 
are so dark and tender! And I can hear my 
melody. Oh! it seems so vague, so very far 
away.” He paused, “And now it is gone again.” 

“Lesaria, dear, what is it you see?” asked his 


mother. He started, aroused from this reverie 
at the sound of her voice. 

“At times I have been haunted by bits of a 
strange melody—like a spirit it wanders through 
my memory, then it suddenly disappears like a 
phantom in the dark. But just now a beautiful 
girl appeared before me and that same melody 
came back to me so vague, yet so wondrous.” 

“Perhaps some day, Lesaria dear, this beauti¬ 
ful girl will come as a real being into your life, 
bringing the melody with her like a Light from 

“Oh, I hope so, Mother!” 

Having begun his musical education at the age 
of five with a renowned teacher, Lesaria’s future 
career was looked forward to with much enthus¬ 
iasm. His instructor declared he would become 
the greatest violinist of the day. He was Amer¬ 
ica’s genius, American born and educated, and 
the entire world would pay homage to him. 


To the artist who is in harmony with the ever- 
changing glory of the heavens, there is no more 
inspiring sight than a golden autumn day in the 
valley in which the City of Salt Lake nestles, 
when nature is resplendent in all her wild and 
magnificent beauty, when sublimity mingles with 
the somber, the fantastic with the calm and se¬ 
rene. Such a day was this, as the first rays of 
the morning sun crept above the snow-capped 
mountain peaks and shed its rosy gleam over the 
valley. But was there not something, too, of 
tragedy in such solemn, yet brilliant beauty ? Has 
there not been some moment in each of our lives, 
filled with a rare beauty and happiness and yet 
shadowed by an impending sorrow or danger— 
an incomprehensible warning? 

Melville Vinson had of late been doing some 
sketching which necessitated his making frequent 
trips to Bird Island, a picturesque little island on 
the western boundary of the Great Salt Lake, the 
home of myriad flocks of seagulls. From there 
he could obtain a better outline of the Lake and 



the surrounding islands and the beauty of the 
sunset was exceedingly effective. 

On this particular morning he was more than 
eager to get an early start, as there appeared to 
be a rare color in the sky which he hoped to dupli¬ 
cate upon the canvas. With an ardent “good¬ 
bye” he left his wife busy with her household 
duties, and Lesaria, as usual, with his violin and 
morning’s practice. 

Lesaria had spent perhaps an hour in rather 
desultory playing when unconsciously his fingers 
and bow began to wander listlessly over the 
strings and from his violin came a strange, 
mournful strain, like a solemn dirge for the dead. 

“And why, Lesaria,” asked his mother in a 
tone of grave tenderness, “is your playing so 
filled with sadness this morning?” 

“I do not know, mother. Somehow I feel it 
within my heart, and in my fingers, and those 
solemn notes seem to awaken from the grave.” 

His mother kissed him gently on the forehead. 
“Ah! You are such a strange lad, Lesaria, such 
a dreamer.” And one fancied a saddened tinge 
in the wistful smile that flitted across her beauti¬ 
ful features. 

Evening with all its deepening glory was ap¬ 
proaching; the sky was aflame with color; the 
clouds on the eastern mountains reflected its 
glow. The trees were swaying mildly in the eve- 


ning air. But was there not a warning in the 
sudden, calm dark red glow of the sky and the 
deep purple shadows playing upon the mountain- 
tops? Those thick-gathering clouds in the west! 
What message were they bringing as they rolled 
in black depths across the heavens ? The branches 
of the trees were now twisting and moaning and 
creaking under the intensity of the wind! Was 
not that the faint echo of thunder? Nearer and 
nearer came its throbbing moan. Another instant 
and one great crash seemed to have rent the 
heavens asunder for the rain came down in tor¬ 
rents. It was quickly over, however. Those 
thunder showers of the autumn days were of 
short duration. But it had taken its toll; relent¬ 
less, cruel it had been in its brevity. 

Melville Vinson had been the victim of the 
angry storm and the violence of the Great Salt 
Lake. Not realizing the swiftness with which 
the storm was approaching, the artist had gotten 
but half-way across the lake when the motors of 
the launch in which he was traveling alone be¬ 
came clogged with the salt deposited by the spray 
of the waves that lashed about it. Although the 
water of the lake is heavy, containing a deposit 
of twenty-five per cent salt, it takes but a slight 
atmospherical disturbance to arouse it. 

As the waves continued to lash relentlessly 
about the launch, leaving a heavy deposit of salt 


within and without, it soon became weighted 
down and in an instant capsized, leaving its vic¬ 
tim struggling helplessly, yet bravely, in the wa¬ 
ter, in a grim battle with death. How fruitless 
the effort! The first stages of strangulation 
were upon him! With what horror did the real¬ 
ization of such a death come to him! The salt 
spray was filling his nostrils, his throat. And 
then with a last frantic, choking call to his loved 
ones, he stiffened in death. 

Some hours later his body was found by a 
rescue party, floating on the surface of the calmed 
waters. Over him was a shroud of cold, glisten¬ 
ing, crystal spray. His features were distorted 
and bore the marks of the horrible agony of his 

Clutched in his hand was the cherished paint¬ 
ing he had completed that day. It had been 
wrapped with special care as if he half feared 
something was going to happen to it. 

Into its brilliant pigments he had seemed to 
blend all the joys and sufferings of his too short 
life. It was indeed a masterpiece. 

The pall of grief hung over the home from 
which he had so joyously departed that morning. 
The grim tragedy cast a gloom over heart and 
brain, yet his wife and son struggled as bravely 
in their grief as he had for life. 


In the two years which have elapsed since the 
death of Melville Vinson, the gaunt form of 
poverty stalked many times through the home 
from which he had been so suddenly taken. The 
health of Mrs. Vinson had been so impaired by 
the sudden shock of her husband's death that it 
was difficult to engage in steady employment and 
Lesaria was yet too young to have the burden 
•of her support. 

Mrs. Vinson was not a good business woman, 
when it came to the selling of her husband's paint¬ 
ings. They each held for her a fond memory and 
she cherished them as if they were her family 
of babies. The most highly prized of her hus¬ 
band's work was the painting which had been his 
final effort, his masterpiece. That she guarded 
as she would a child, yet realizing the day was 
not far off when it with others would of necessity 
have to be sold to provide food and warmth for 
herself and son. 

Then as if Fate had decreed otherwise, early 
one chilling December morning, Fire, that Demon 
of Destruction, destroyed the home which shel¬ 


tered the family of Melville Vinson and the 
paintings which had been his life’s work. 

For many weeks Lesaria Vinson lay hovering 
between life and death as the result of severe 
burns obtained in his escape from the burning 
structure. For weeks, too, his mother lay in a 
semi-comatose condition as the result of this 
added shock. Indeed it seemed as if misfortune 
had made its permanent abode in that home. 

The shroud of darkness hangs heavily at times 
and then comes that rare moment in which one 
catches a faint glimmer of light and the heart 
responds, almost afraid, half-hoping, half- 

Lilith, the pretty fair-haired companion of 
Lesaria’s early childhood, had been favored more 
kindly by Fortune and as childhood budded into 
more serious youth with its greater trials and 
sorrows for Lesaria her life blossomed in full 
glory. She had been away to school for the past 
two years and the misfortune of her friends was 
quite unknown to her. Extremely wealthy in her 
own right she had never known the pangs of 
poverty, yet she was most sensitive to all suffer¬ 
ing. It was now her desire that the great wealth 
she possessed should be of service to Mrs. Vinson 
and Lesaria. Lilith realized he had a brilliant 
future before him could he blit complete his 
musical education. 


It was but a few months later, after having 
fully recovered from his illness and his mother 
having been restored to health, that Lesaria Vin¬ 
son stood once again before his teacher, ready 
and eager to continue his lessons, the first since 
the death of his father. 

The flame of genius is a beacon light that 
smoulders at times but when the soul has fully 
awakened and has responded to its creative 
responsibilities the flame bursts into being and 
illumines the entire world. 

And so Lesaria Vinson was destined to 
illumine the world with his music. 


When Lilith was but an infant, her father had 
strangely disappeared and she had grown up 
without knowing the father love, but the devotion 
with which she reverenced her mother was the 
noblest ideal of her young life. She often won¬ 
dered about her father, but when she questioned 
her mother regarding him a hurt look would steal 
over her face and she sensed that her mother did 
not care to talk upon the subject. But many 
thoughts would come into her mind concerning 
him and she had a keen desire to know him. If 
he should suddenly return would she love him as 
she did her mother ? And how would her father 
feel toward her—would he love her? 

For the past three years Lilith had been devot¬ 
ing her activities to the Art of the Drama. She 
was an eager student, ambitious and seeking al¬ 
ways for some new adventure. 

It was the eve of her debut in a star part and 
in the dressing room she was being robed as a 
princess. She stood erect in her stately beauty, 
queenly and dignified—her attendants now put¬ 
ting into place a stray lock or smoothing out a 



bit of lace, or laying a delicate fold in the rich 
velvet of her robe. 

“Alas!” she said, turning to one of her admir¬ 
ing attendants, in answer to a word of praise, “it 
is a fancy of mine, this life behind the scenes,” 
then added, half sadly, “even it does not satisfy 
me. Oh, yes! it is a glorious art, but somehow I 
long for something more comprehensive. I do 
not like to feel that I am bound down by the limi¬ 
tations of the stage. I have enjoyed my work, 
but soon I shall seek a new field.” 

The call boy appeared—it was time for the en¬ 
trance of the Princess. Lilith was unusually ner¬ 
vous. The theatre was crowded to capacity. 
Out of the darkness of the multitude of faces 
that looked eagerly upon her, she could discern 
her mother’s and this gave her renewed strength 
and courage. 

As the play progressed, she observed a man 
seated in the front row with an intent gaze bent 
upon her. He studied every movement that she 
made. Lilith fancied she had seen him at some 
time, but the memory was a dim one. Just before 
the final curtain he arose and went quickly out of 
the theatre. 

The evening’s performance had been a tremen¬ 
dous success and the young star was enthusias¬ 
tically cheered by the vast audience. When she 
entered her dressing room she was confronted 


by her mother and the man who had observed 
her so closely while she was upon the stage. For 
an instant she was held in a strange silence, then 
her voice broke dramatically. 

“Father! Is it father?” 

“Yes, my dear, it is your father,” replied her 
mother quietly. 

The man hesitated and in that instant of si¬ 
lence, one thought came to Lilith. “He does not 
love me.” 

Then he stretched out his arms and she moved 
toward him and kissed him. 

“Father,” she murmured. “Where have you 
been all these years?” 

“Roaming the world,” he answered. Then, al¬ 
most abruptly, “You did splendidly tonight; you 
have great talent.” 

“Thank you. Are you coming home with us, 

“No, tonight I leave for other parts of the 
world. I had heard of you and wished to see you 
since you had grown into a young lady. But you 
will not see me again. I am pleased with you 
and proud of you, my daughter.” 

“But father, why this strange behavior? I 
want to know you, to love you as I do mother. 
Do not leave us again. I want to always feel 
your kindly protection; to know that you are in- 


terested in my work and that you share with me 
my hopes and ambitions/’ 

“Ah, but mine is a restless spirit, Lilith; I be¬ 
long nowhere and everywhere. I could not be 
happy here. I love you and am proud of you and 
you will always be conscious of my protective in¬ 
fluence. I do not want you to become a wanderer 
also. But I must go now, try to love me if you 
can. Goodbye.” And he left them gazing after 
him in bewilderment. 

Lilith turned toward her mother. 

“What does all this mean, mother dear? He 
did not speak to you nor you to him.” 

“We had been speaking before you came in, my 
dear—there was nothing more to say.” 

“But it all puzzles me so. Here my own father, 
whom I have not seen since infancy, mysteriously 
comes upon the scene and as mysteriously van¬ 
ishes and neither you nor he offers me an expla¬ 

“It is best, Lilith, that you have no explanation 
now. It is a long story that some day I shall tell 
to you,” and the hurt look again came into her 
mother’s face. 

“Now, my mother, if it is going to make you 
sad I will not talk about it any more.” 

“You were beautiful in your part tonight, my 
dear, and your acting was superb. I am glad you 
have made this success.” 


“I am glad, but not satisfied. I have other am¬ 
bitions which I hope soon to realize. We are go¬ 
ing to travel, too. I know you will like that/' 
exclaimed Lilith with much enthusiasm. 

“Ah, I wonder if you also will become a wan¬ 
derer? Oh, sometimes I am so afraid for you, 
Lilith!” Then half aloud, her mother repeated, 
“He was afraid for you also.” 

“Was father like that mother—a wanderer?” 

“Yes,” answered her mother simply. 


A few months later found Lilith and her 
mother making preparations for a tour of the 
world. The wanderlust had taken possession of 
her and against all the entreaties of her mother 
Lilith had insisted that there was a spirit some¬ 
where in the Eastern World that was calling her 
to the work she would do in the future. 

The blood of adventure ran in the veins of 
Lilith and her mother realized that she could 
never be a caged bird. She wished, however, that 
her daughter would marry Alvan Huntington, 
the young scientist, and settle down. He was 
brilliant and desirable—and very much in love 
with Lilith. 

“But mother, I do not love him, why should I 
make his life and my own miserable? I am not 
the girl for him,” Lilith was exclaiming as she 
and her mother were arranging some brilliantly 
colored autumn leaves in the huge vases about 
the spacious ball room where a profusion of au¬ 
tumn flowers spread their delicate fragrance. 
They were putting the final touches to the prep- 


arations for an elaborate dinner dance that eve¬ 
ning given to their friends as a farewell fete. 

Their home, with its spacious grounds, tonight 
was an iridescent glow of brightly twinkling 
lights. In the court a magnificent fountain played 
into the air and in its basin brilliantly colored 
goldfish swam lazily about. A full moon bathed 
the broad open gardens in a light of soft loveli¬ 
ness, adding to the scene its delicate charm. 

One of the surprises of the evening was the 
first appearance before an audience of the bril¬ 
liant violinist, Lesaria Vinson. Quite unexpect¬ 
edly the guests became aware of beautiful music 
floating through the rooms. A rich, curiously 
subtle rhythm that blended with exquisite har¬ 
mony into the scene of the evening; now gently 
murmuring like the soft cadence of an evening 
love-song; then sweeping into a dazzling, trilling 
passage of emotion and poetic imagery. 

The guests were thrilled by Lesaria’s playing 
and expressed the warmest praise and enthusiasm 
for his art and mastery of the violin at such an 
early age. 

The midnight hour now found the merry party 
lost in the swaying melodies of dance music. The 
wealthy Alvan Huntington, with his handsome 
appearance and prepossessing manner, was the 
catch of the evening. He was a genial personal¬ 
ity with a keen humor and subtle satire. He 


loved feminine beauty and was infatuated with 
every pretty face that he looked upon. 

He was particularly charmed with Lilith to¬ 
night—her strange moods, her youthful beauty, 
her regal manner and his inability to penetrate 
the barrier of an unassuming aloofness which she 
held towards him. Tonight, her queenly dignity, 
the flushed beauty of her cheeks, made the heart 
of young Huntington beat with a wild fervor. 

Between the dancing Lilith stole out into the 
garden for a moment to catch the breath of a 
delicate, cooling zephyr. As she stood near the 
fountain watching it send its silvery spray into 
the air, and as the soft shadows of the moon fell 
full upon her, she heard a light footstep and 
glancing around saw Alvan Huntington standing 
by her side. 

He suddenly clasped her hand within his own. 
“Lilith,” he whispered in an intense voice, “I love 
you, I adore you, I want you!” 

She gently drew her hand from his. “No, you 
do not love me, and I do not love you, Alvan. 
Please do not let us spoil a perfectly delightful 

He dropped his head for an instant, then 
looked up at her from the depths of his handsome 
eyes. “But with you, life would be so different, 
love would be the biggest thing of my life. I 


worship you. Tell me that my love is not in 

Lilith shook her head. “As a friend I like you 
immensely—but it can never be love.” 

“And that is final?” he asked. 

“Yes, that is final,” and she added softly, “but 
come, let us go in and you may have the next 
dance with me.” 

It was long past midnight when the party of 
merrymakers dispersed, and as the young hostess 
bade goodbye to each of the departing guests, 
their warm words of esteem and affection 
touched Lilith deeply. To Lesaria Vinson she 
gave her promise to return within a year that she 
might be present when he made his debut before 
the public. 

“That indeed pleases me, and the memory of 
your words and your promise will urge me on. 
To feel that I have your supreme faith and kind 
thoughts is an incentive toward that highest of 
high goals to which I trust I may prove worthy 
of attainment.” His voice betrayed the depth of 
emotion with which he spoke. 

Lilith gave her hand to Alvan Huntington. “I 
trust we shall always be friends, Alvan—good- 


Air travel in this new era of advancement led 
to many interesting adventures. The heretofore 
unknown impenetrable spots of the world were 
linked by the vast chain of air navigation which 
encircled the entire globe. 

North Pole and South Pole, no longer danger¬ 
ous regions of snow and ice, were within reach of 
civilization by one day’s air travel. Science had 
been enriched with a knowledge of the meteor¬ 
ology and climatic conditions existing in these 
localities and at these poles the two greatest radio 
stations of the world had been established. 

Fur-bearing animals, new to civilization, were 
discovered. The beauty and elegance of their 
skins commanded fabulous prices and a ready 

The South Pole proved a fertile field for a new 
enterprise created by a rare gem remarkable for 
its formation, which seemed to be a peculiar de¬ 
posit of the past ages. The warmth and color of 
the ruby, the brilliancy of the diamond and the 
soft lustre of the sapphire, were all combined in 


the new stone. It was known as the radium 

It is these new regions which are to afford so 
much of interest to Lilith and her mother on their 
journey. For the purpose of their world trip 
Lilith had purchased a luxuriant and attractive 
aero car. Its outward appearance was of an in¬ 
tense blue tone. The interior fittings and decora¬ 
tions displayed artistic taste and design, the color 
scheme being the pale blue of the heavens and 
the gold of the sun. It was divided into several 
separate compartments, one for baggage, one for 
the pilot and his own private quarters, and the 
remaining compartments comprised the living 
and sleeping quarters of the passengers, which 
included a handsome library, a lounging room, 
and various cozy parlors. 

The car was propelled by electricity and by 
pressing a tiny button the doors silently and 
quickly opened and closed. Halsner, the pilot, 
was at his wheel, where two electric buttons were 
all that were necessary to set in motion the mi¬ 
nute apparatus of the car. One button was for 
the purpose of starting it and the other regulated 
the speed. At his right hand sparkled a tiny yel¬ 
low light and from its varied glow was deter¬ 
mined the altitude of flight. The higher the car 
arose the brighter and more powerful became the 
light and when flying near to earth it would but 


dimly flicker. Under the car, and at its sides, 
were immense reflectors which caught and con¬ 
centrated the glow of the thousands of small 
lights surrounding it and illumined the path in 

Lilith and her mother entered their compart¬ 
ment. Halsner pressed his magic button and the 
car silently shot into the air, gliding through the 
thick banks of mist, then mounting above a 
screen of soft clouds, rainbow tinted, beautiful 
beyond expression, which were rapidly falling 
under them. Soaring aloft as lightly as a bird on 
the wing, they would soon be among other peo¬ 
ples, other lands, and in new, strange and fas¬ 
cinating haunts. . . . 

But the spirit of adventure in Lilith leads first 
to the South Pole in quest of the radium dia¬ 
mond. Thence through the vast jungles of 
Africa and across the Great Sahara Desert into 
the Holy Land where Lilith fancied that finer 
urge of the spirit within would find its comple¬ 
mentary and reveal to her the definite path of her 
future activities. 


Many days had been spent in restless search¬ 
ing, in flying from one city to another, one point 
of interest in the wilds to some calmer sphere till 
one morning, her mind imbued with the intangi¬ 
ble consciousness of things unreal, Lilith was 
sitting with her mother upon the broad piazza 
of the hotel wondering why it all had come 
about; just why they were here again in Calcutta 
on this particular evening. They were home¬ 
ward bound after several months of delightful 
traveling across the old world continents, but for 
some reason quite unknown to both, they had 
suddenly decided to return to Calcutta for a brief 

Lilith sat watching, with a somewhat vague 
tranquillity, the soft loveliness of the evening 
shadows—and a cooling breeze made her spirits 
seem purer, lighter in that lucid air. 

“Mother, I have been wondering just why we 
came back here, but now I think I know. There 
is someone here whom I need, who is going to 
give to me my heart’s ambition and bring to me 
a strange but wonderful happiness. This won- 


dering mind of mine will be directed into a chan¬ 
nel of fearless undertaking. And that unknown 
and powerful presence is very near us.” 

Her mother looked at her anxiously: “Yes, 
perhaps we did come back here for a purpose and 
I trust your intuition guides you rightly.” 

“It will, mother dear, it will,” and Lilith’s voice 
seemed to softly blend with the night air, and 
her eyes looked absently into space. 

Suddenly, as if returning from a far off 
dreamland, she said, “But come, mother dear, let 
us go in. It is midnight and the late night air 
may chill you.” 

As they walked leisurely down the long corri¬ 
dor of the hotel, Lilith caught the echo of soft 
singing from a distant hall. She stopped, ar¬ 
rested by the unearthly beauty of the music. 
“Listen, mother, do you hear that? How exquis¬ 
ite are those tones. Let us go in and see who is 

The room which they entered was spacious and 
the only visible light came from above the piano, 
which stood in a far corner of the room. As 
Lilith approached, a man of distinguished bear¬ 
ing arose and came forward. It was a handsome 
and commanding figure that stood before her, 
tall and erect—a man about middle age. The fea¬ 
tures were finely and sensitively moulded, the 
chest broad; the head unusually large with a 


broad and noble brow. The face, like that of a 
seer, beamed with intelligence; the expression 
was kindly, yet contemplative. The hands were 
extremely interesting, neither too large nor too 
small; their touch was vibrant, thrilling with a 
powerful electric force. It seemed as if the 
workmanship of ages had been moulded into 

As Lilith gazed upon that countenance she was 
electrified, and the effect produced upon her mind 
was too mystifying ever to be forgotten, or even 
analyzed. It awakened an indistinct, haunting 
memory, a reminiscence of those day dreams in 
which her fancy was so often wont to dwell and 
in which this same serene face appeared before 
her. She could not speak but in the gaze and in 
the divine splendor of the eyes which met her 
own there was much understanding, tenderness 
and inspiration. 

He was the first to break the silence and in a 
voice of soothing richness said, “'Won’t you be 

She moved toward the chair he offered. His 
gaze still rested steadily upon her, kindly, yet full 
of intensity. His eyes were of changing color, 
blue and gray, soft-hued, then brilliant. 

At last, words were forming themselves on her 
lips and in a low voice she said, “You—oh, I 
have seen you many times before in my mind’s 


fanciful wanderings.” She passed her hand over 
her eyes as if to clear away an obscuring mist. 
“I had such a strange experience last night and 
now as you stand before me it all *comes back to 
my mind so vividly.” 

“Yes, tell me about it,” he replied in an inter¬ 
ested tone. 

“You and I entered a beautiful forest. We 
had gone but a short distance when we met a 
number of little children dressed in white with 
garlands of gloriously colored flowers entwined 
among their curls. In their hands were long 
ropes of the flowers. They were jumping, laugh¬ 
ing, singing softly as they tossed their pretty 
heads in childish abandonment, while the sun¬ 
beams danced around them and the wind mur¬ 
mured musically among the tree tops and the 
tall green grass under their feet nodded in assent 
to their capricious joymaking. We watched 
with interest each dainty little figure; then at 
length we emerged from the fresh wood and 
found ourselves upon a smooth path, one side 
lined with magnificent trees, the other a barren 
plain stretching away into the distance. We 
walked along slowly, our hearts thrilling with 
happiness and peace and our souls responding to 
the quiet beauty of the land in which we were 

“This picture was still a radiant vision when 


suddenly in the path before us appeared an aged, 
broken man in an old cart drawn by a donkey 
moving slowly and stubbornly. We paused as 
the quaint party drew up before us. The old 
man arose from his seat and alighting stood bow¬ 
ing humbly before us and waving his hands in a 
backward motion, and mumbled something in 
our ears, the only words audible being, The 
young man with golden sandals who comes yon¬ 
der/ We looked about, puzzled, wondering what 
he meant and to whom he referred. Climbing 
onto his seat again, he gave a loud command to 
his donkey and moved slowly off, leaving us star¬ 
ing in bewilderment. Our happiness was damp¬ 
ened now and our minds were perplexed. There 
had been a sinister meaning in his very move¬ 
ments, in his gutteral utterances. We stood long, 
looking after him in silence, then you took my 
hand and we walked on again. 

“At length we came to a bend in the road, and 
at this particular spot giant trees stood on either 
side, casting the shadows of their foliage upon 
the ground and making a pleasingly inviting 
spot. We stopped and sat down upon a fallen 
tree trunk. Presently around the curve of the 
road appeared a figure curiously dressed, appar¬ 
ently a very young man, but his shoulders were 
bent under the heavy load which he was carry¬ 
ing. His shirt was tattered and torn and the 


trousers about his bare ankles were badly frayed. 
Upon his feet were beautiful golden sandals 
wrought in the purest and finest of gold and of 
most delicate craftsmanship. His head was bare 
and the mass of beautiful brown hair lay in a 
disheveled heap. His face was wondrously young 
and glorious and his eyes shone with a warm 
lustre. He stopped quickly upon seeing us and 
with some difficulty lowered his burden to the 

“Over his shoulder hung two tiny bands of 
gold in thin flat links of about an inch, each one 
bearing a curiously carved design or emblem. 
‘Who are you?’ we asked. 

“ ‘I follow him who goes before—he whom you 
met a short time ago upon this road/ 

“ ‘The man with the donkey and cart?’ 

“ ‘Yes/ replied the stranger. ‘Yonder lies the 
City. You have not to travel far before you 
reach its site, but you cannot enter it together. 
Your companion must enter by the passage on 
the left/ and turning to me, ‘you must enter 
through the passage on the right. That is all I 
can say to you now. Adieu, Adieu, Adieu, and 
peace be with you/ 

“We were amazed, for this seemed more 
strange than our first visitor and we had received 
no enlightenment from either as to their identity 
or their destination. We were anxious now to 


reach this city, so we hastened on. The road lost 
itself in the barren plain before us and in the 
distance we saw an immense mountain, steep, 
barren, with sides as perpendicular as those of a 
granite wall. Upon coming nearer we observed 
on the left a massive rock in which was an open¬ 
ing just large enough for one person to enter. 
On the right, and in the center of this wall was 
a gate which would admit but one person. We 
parted and turning to me, you said, ‘We will meet 
again once we are within the City/ Then we en¬ 
tered as we had been directed. 

“Once within the confines of those strange 
walls my physical self seemed to disappear; to 
vanish in the mist and I was soaring, oh, so high; 
feeling as light as a glistening dewdrop ere it is 
touched by the morning rays of the sun. Then 
a weird loneliness swept over me. I felt as if I 
were a lost being on an unknown planet—its sole 
inhabitant. All about me was an uncanny si¬ 
lence and darkness. Suddenly I began to float 
onward and upward, striving, struggling to 
reach the light. All at once I felt the presence of 
an invisible force bearing me along swiftly, 
silently. I ascended higher and higher, always in 
darkness, and a fearful, chilling terror coursed 
through my veins. I was seeking for some ray 
of light, when a vague sense of imprisonment 


caused me to shudder with fear and I wanted to 
leap from out the surrounding blackness. 

“In another instant I was conscious of a pow¬ 
erful presence near me and like a great curtain 
the blanket of darkness divided. Above me was 
bank upon bank of bewitching, feathery clouds. 
Far below lay a beautiful valley and streams, like 
tiny silver threads, winding their way in and out 
over a land of perfect loveliness and among in¬ 
numerable rows of towering trees. The valley 
stretched away into the distance without the 
slightest undulation, and over its entire surface 
lay a covering of glistening white sand, which 
under the rays of the sun sparkled and gleamed 
like precious jewels. 

“I stood awed and fascinated with this glory, 
thrilled with the desire to descend into this valley 
of wonderment. While wrapt in intense admira¬ 
tion, a voice like a deep musical chord floated to 
my ears. In another instant your figure stood 
before me; your princely countenance was filled 
with a tender light. 

“Taking your hand, I asked in a voice that 
seemed scarcely audible, ‘Where am I ?’ 

“ ‘You are upon a lost planet. I am here to 
guide you. I shall always be protecting and car¬ 
ing for you wherever you may be, but you must 
now return. You came in darkness and fear but 
you will return through that Valley of Light and 


Beauty which you see below. Goodbye/ and you 
were gone. 

“A flood of golden light illuminated my path. I 
stretched out my arms in thankfulness. Then I 
saw your figure slowly disappear from view. 
Soon I found myself in the Valley, wending my 
way along the edge of a crystal stream. I felt so 
free, so happy, so rich, in this land of peace, pur¬ 
ity and beauty. Before my eyes stretched the 
country in an unbroken distance; the trees, the 
streams, the sun and I were companions and 

The stranger kept an intense gaze upon Lilith 
as she recited this experience and when she had 
completed her narrative, he went up to her, tak¬ 
ing her hand in his own. “Yes, I was your com¬ 
panion always.” Then continuing, “You have 
ambitions to become a writer, have you not?” 

Lilith was startled by this sudden question and 
in a voice betraying her surprise, answered, 
“Yes, I have, but how did you know?” 

“I know every thought, every desire registered 
within your mind.” 

Lilith gave a queer little laugh. “That is in¬ 

“And do you know the sacrifice, the price de¬ 
manded of a woman writer?” the stranger con¬ 

“No”—hesitatingly. “What do you mean?” 


“Just this—writing is the very highest plane 
of creative art. Woman lives in a world apart, 
a world of her own infinite creation. The 
higher the rate of consciousness, the nearer the 
Divine and the greater is the unfoldment of the 
spirit. Genius cannot exist in a material world; 
it must create a realm of its own and to accom¬ 
plish this the vibratory rate is raised far beyond 
the material plane and, owing to this extreme 
tension, the psychic self is highly developed at 
the expense of the physical; the health and ner¬ 
vous system become impaired unless very careful 
attention is given by one with a thorough knowl¬ 
edge of the nature of the occult laws. To woman 
it is the forbidden field, for physically she is con¬ 
structed not to become mother of ideas or inven¬ 
tion, but to confine her motherhood to the first 
plane, that of the propagation of the species, 
while on the mental plane she becomes the father 
element. The instant she carries her desire for 
motherhood on to the mental plane she breaks the 
great law of inversion. 

“She finds, however, the open door for the ex¬ 
pression of her creative force upon other planes 
besides that of the propagation of the species, for 
on the ideal or second plane, which is creation 
on the plane of ideas, the sexes are inverted and 
man is inspired by some woman whose mind vi¬ 
brates at a corresponding rate with his own, and 


he becomes the mother of invention. That which 
sows the seed of the ideal form is designated the 
father element; that which conceives the seed, 
nourishes it and gives it incorporation and birth 
is designated the mother element. Mounting to 
the second plane of creation, Ideation—there the 
thought form, the ideal, is psychically realized 
and given birth and its final deliverance is an 
ideate in the form of a symphony, a sculptured 
group, a book, any piece of creative art. The 
fact therefore remains that Ideation, the second 
plane on which creation occurs, is an inversion of 
the first plane, of generation, in that the original 
functions of man and woman are reversed. 
Physically, then, man is constructed so that he 
can endure a greater tension of the nervous sys¬ 
tem and it is more natural for him to dwell in 
the mentally creative field, his mind being fertil¬ 
ized by that of some woman whose own mind 
is in tune with his. So you can realize where the 
danger lies for the woman who desires to enter 
into the creation of a book, a painting—anything 
of the artistically creative—when she must invert 
her sex contrary to the laws of nature. But the 
creative desire is divine and the eye trained by 
a pure heart to see God in everything, responds 
only to the wonders of evolution in progressing 
on from the limited scope of creative power pos¬ 
sessed by the vegetable and animal kingdoms 


through the elemental human races whose crea¬ 
tive powers have been temporarily confined to 
the propagation of the species, on up to the high¬ 
er planes of greater achievements in music, 
painting, sculpture, invention and writing. ,, 

Lilith had listened with grave thoughtfulness 
to this interesting unfoldment of the laws of the 
higher realms into which she had longed to as¬ 
cend. She remained silent, however, and deeply 

“And now,” said the stranger, looking, it 
seemed to her, into the very depths of her being, 
“are you willing, are you anxious to make a sac¬ 
rifice of the physical self in order to give expres¬ 
sion to the creative ego?” 

Lilith looked up at him through the soft lus¬ 
tre of her eyes and answered simply but with 
conviction, “Yes.” 

“I knew that would be your answer and all 
that I might say to the contrary would not 
change your mind. Yet I wanted to be fair and 
explain to you just what it means to a woman 
to go into the field of creative writing. It is, 
nevertheless, a wonderful and beautiful art and 
you will derive much satisfaction and pleasure 
and success from it, even though sacrifice and 
suffering accompany it. The higher the plane of 
creation upon which we live, the nearer we are to 
God, for all the glories of His Kingdom are ours 


if we but attune our spirit to His through love 
and sacrifice. Come to me tomorrow and we will 
begin our work.” 

Lilith and her mother arose. The stranger 
bowed graciously. Then Lilith paused, “Your 

“They call me Tokalon,” the stranger an¬ 
swered gravely. 

Lilith repeated his name as if weighing curi¬ 
ously the meaning of it and they silently left the 
room. Her desire for creative expression was 
the child of a restless brain. Her imagination 
was more a spirit of the somber than the sun¬ 
shine, more of power than capriciousness and she 
had a penetrating understanding of human emo¬ 

And who of us from the lowliest to the high¬ 
est bred of the universe has not some secret crea¬ 
tive ambition, some spark within that yearns for 
the light of existence, be it a child or a book? 
And is not the propagation of life the first law 
of creation which God implanted within our 
souls? And he who creates a world apart from 
the real nature earth is the true genius of the 


That night as she lay upon her pillow, what 
thoughts, what images, were playing within the 
secret chambers of Lilith’s mind! A thousand 
restless yearnings seemed to have found at last 
a more tranquil abode within her being, but they 
also had given place to other and newer longings 
occasioned by her meeting with Tokalon. The 
opportunity to enter into the realm of creative 
writing had made her very happy for it seemed 
at last her restless ambition, and that something 
for which her active mind had been seeking were 
to be satisfied. She had no fear of the dangers 
of the high plane of intensity upon which she 
would work, for under Tokalon’s guidance she 
felt sure no serious results would be the outcome 
of her ambition. 

But ah! those newer yearnings, what of them ? 
Were they of the heart? Her feelings, like her 
own nature, were peculiar, strange, complex. 
She did not feel as do most girls when they sigh 
over the bitter and sweet of their first love. No; 
to her Tokalon represented that someone about 
whom she had woven all her childish dreams, 


built all the ideals of her young maidenhood. She 
was not enamoured of him. Something akin to 
majestic awe, gratitude, delight, combined with 
a sincere reverence for that which represents the 
highest form of human beauty and spirituality, 
permeated her being. It was as though she had 
been led to the place where she was to find the 
one who had been sought by the restless spirit 
within. Here was a personage to fill her with 
wondrous love, with joy, with heartaches; for 
often when her thoughts had sought to shape out 
her future in sunshine and radiant happiness, 
always before her vision had come a darkening 
shadow, chill and foreboding and she had seen 
nothing but the Deepening Cave beckoning her 
on, only to be swallowed into its mysterious 

What Fate was before her? What meant this 
strange meditation that had filled so many of her 
young thoughts? She knew she was happy to¬ 
night. In fact she had never known such happi¬ 
ness as that which had thrilled her since leaving 
Tokalon, and yet—what was there about it which 
saddened her? Why such alternating moods of 
awe, sadness and inspiration? She could not 
explain, yet such was the happiness that Tokalon 
had inspired in Lilith. And yet she felt this 
happiness could not really be part of herself; 
that it was but as a flitting firefly, giving radiance 


for an instant to the darkening shadows that ever 
and anon crept into her brain. 

She would see him again on the morrow; that 
thought comforted her at last into slumber but 
not the deep sleep of rest and forgetfulness. For 
her mind, in spite of herself, was vexed by weird, 
fleeting phantoms, shapeless and deformed. 

She awakened that morning as the warm rays 
of the sun smiled in at her through the parted 
curtains at the windows. A soft breeze played 
delicately with a stray lock of hair that fell 
caressingly over her partially bared bosom. She 
felt delightfully freshened despite the fact that 
the night had been one of unquiet sleep, and she 
arose with alacrity to greet the opening day and 
to meet the Seer and Teacher. 


To be in the presence of the Master Tokalon 
gave to one a feeling of infinite confidence and 
inspiration. To Lilith it seemed all the lore of 
the ages was embodied in this Seer. He was 
possessed of that creative touch which evoked 
from every common thing of existence a rare 
quality of energizing romance and vitality; a 
mystic touch it seemed where a new life sprang 
up flowering in the most sterile place and sting¬ 
ing into creative activity the dormant spark 
within. It was the Divine quality about Tokalon 
that gave to Lilith the deeper understanding to 
be found in one’s reconciliation to the vary¬ 
ing phases of life; life with its contradictory 

“You wish to write,” he was saying to her. 
“This writing is the transmutation of passion and 
emotion to the very highest creative plane, but as 
I have said before, it is the forbidden field of 
motherhood for women, an avenue of creation 
for which woman must pay physicially. This 
creative plane is governed by the law of relaxa¬ 
tion and contraction, just as the earth which we 



inhabit, in its past epoch slowly contracted and 
civilization has constantly adjusted itself to this 
contraction. In this, the era of the earth’s ex¬ 
pansion, we yield to the onward progression; 
civilization providing for each new age the neces¬ 
sities for their particular sustenance, the manner 
of constructing homes, of earning a livelihood. 
And all goes to prove the great Unfathomable 
Omnipotent Force back of Creation’s plan. 

“We ourselves are wonder beings, these bodies 
of ours. Think of the intricate, delicate, yet 
mighty mechanism and power which they possess 
and back of all the organic functioning is the tiny 
vital spark that glows everlastingly, knowing no 
beginning nor ending. Nor does this spark first 
manifest itself in the material body. We are 
given a psychic birth in another world, and no 
doubt ofttimes our psychic parents are the in¬ 
habitants of another planet. Then comes a re¬ 
birth here in a material body, but it is not always 
that our psychic mother and father become our 
material parents. After a sojourn on the earth 
plane, the spirit returns to carry on further its 
work in another realm and perhaps to reincarnate 
again and so on with its expression and experi¬ 
ence until the Great Final Day when we become 
as one family. 

“Spirit is that part of us which knows neither 
time nor space, beginning nor ending. Soul is 


the vibratory emanations which make and are the 
records of our existence. The personality or 
entity of our departed ones is ever surrounding 
us and by attuning our consciousness to a high 
degree of intensity and sympathy we are often 
privileged to see or speak to them.” 

“But life—what should that really mean to us? 
How should we make the most of it? What 
should we really get out of it ?” Lilith was asking. 

“It depends upon our plane of consciousness. 
If we can register each sorrow, each adversity, 
each happiness as an experience, a lesson of the 
power of the Something Great within this perish¬ 
able clay and out of it elevate and create, then 
we are traveling that avenue that leads to the 
Higher Kingdom, for there are but two paths 
in life, one is constructive, the other destructive. 
Through love and suffering one touches the 
divine and the sufferer is brought nearer the 
Infinite One. To leave something of ourselves 
to the world, that is our great mission, the fair¬ 
est immortality on earth. Indeed if that inherent 
quality within us which yearns for expression 
were always given a harmonious, wholesome en¬ 
vironment, life would be more constructively 

“Take for instance the vast multitude of toilers 
throughout the world whose daily existence is 
one of mechanical monotony, whose lives are spent 


in the dark mines, in the fields, in the factories; 
in various pursuits in which the smouldering 
spark is stifled; they rebel at their lot in life and 
that creative energy not having the opportunity 
to express itself in channels of constructiveness 
becomes directed into a maddening current of 
dissatisfaction and destruction, and the mental 
faculties become accustomed to a mechanical 
rhythm which needs no thought power. Harmon¬ 
ize all conditions today and you remove all dis¬ 
satisfaction and unrest tomorrow.” 

The illustrious teacher arose and smiled, “But 
you have a radiant future before you if you only 
strive to make the best of it. You have the power 
of fixing into substance, of immortalizing the 
beings of the Invisible World, for your pen is 
your golden wand to cheer the way for the many, 
to give hope to the multitude, to inspire the weary. 
Make the most of it.” 

Lilith’s voice was scarcely audible as she 
replied thoughtfully and gravely, “I will, I will.” 


Four people sat in front of the low broad 
window in the studio of Tokalon, watching an 
approaching storm. The room was elegant in 
architectural beauty and contained but little 
furniture, indeed had more been placed within 
its walls, the spacious splendor would have been 
lost. Yet its grandeur was the essence of sim¬ 
plicity, giving a sense of serene calmness and 

Tokalon was the first to break the silence after 
a deep, weird echo of thunder had died away. 
His voice was solemn and low. “Our storms here, 
coming as they do across the desert, seem to carry 
in their wake a sinister message. By that I mean 
there is always some person whose Fate they hold 
within their moaning/’ and looking afar off, he 
added in a thoughtful tone, “I wonder whose 
Fate it brings tonight?” 

“Ah but, Tokalon, I love the storm, yet some¬ 
how fear it. It seems part of my very being.” 
It was Demetra’s melodious voice ringing out. 

“Yes, child, I know,” said Tokalon softly. 

Lilith and her mother turned in interest toward 


the speakers. “That sounds so mysterious, 
Demetra,” laughingly said Lilith. 

“Yes, perhaps so,” replied Tokalon. Then turn¬ 
ing to Demetra, he continued, “No doubt the two 
ladies here would be interested in hearing your 
story, Demetra child, and tonight this storm 
seems to be a most picturesque background.” 

Demetra’s dark, luminous eyes looked up at 
Tokalon affectionately. Then in a voice strangely 
her own, she replied: “It seems all so like a 
haunting panorama of the past, but I will tell the 
story as my old nurse so often told it to me. It 
was a night like this when I came into the world 
—all the elements of the Universe seemed at war, 
wild, furious, destructive. 

“My father was an Englishman by birth, a 
great statesman and a writer. My mother was 
a beautiful girl, the last of an old Egyptian 
family of wealth and culture. They had been 
married two years when I came as the blossom of 
their love. Two wondrous years in which their 
love was the knitting together of three souls. 
It had been their custom to take long trips along 
the River Nile when my father did most of his 
writing. They had fitted up a luxurious flying 
boat and on one occasion when father and mother 
were out on a trip a storm came up. The wrath 
of the elements broke loose, a moaning battle 
between heaven and earth! Their boat was 


forced to leave the air and take to the river. The 
waters of the Nile were wicked and cruel that 
night and the boat was buffeted helplessly about 
at the merciless anger of wind and water. The 
storm had prevented an early landing at Alex¬ 
andria and father and mother were forced to 
spend the night in the boat upon the turbulent 

“It was during this night of chaos that I came 
into the world. I had scarcely drawn my first 
mortal breath when my mother drew her last and 
so the cruel madness of the storm had snapped 
asunder the triangle of beautiful love, mother¬ 
hood and happiness. My father, broken by bitter 
grief, died six months later. I was alone in the 
world, but left in the care of an old Egyptian 

Lilith had listened with keen interest. “So that 
was the beginning of life for this little mysterious 
Demetra with her ever far-away, haunting eyes,” 
she said tenderly. 

The storm without was raging furiously. 

“Now Tokalon, tell your part of the story,” 
exclaimed Demetra with childish persuasion. 

“Very well, if you will have it so, and since 
you are soon to leave me it will be well for your 
new guardian”—indicating Lilith—“to know how 
you happened to come under my care.” 

Tokalon turned toward Lilith and her mother. 


“Fifteen years ago there was an epidemic of a 
treacherous fever here in Cairo. I was in India 
at the time but when I learned of this fatal 
malaria I hastened here to give what aid I could. 
I succeeded in saving many lives through my heal¬ 
ing and labored unceasingly. In the poorer classes 
and in the squalid settlements the epidemic took 
a greater toll of lives, but still there were many 
I was able to make well again. One day, going 
among the wealthy class, my attention was called 
to the case of an old nurse who was quite alone 
and the only guardian of a young orphan. When 
I went to her she was beyond all help. I did what 
I could but death released her from her agony 
shortly afterward. 

“The child under her care was Demetra. She 
was at the time but two years old. I made in¬ 
vestigations and learned of her parentage and 
that on her eighteenth birthday she was to be¬ 
come a wealthy heiress. I made arrangements 
to take her into my care until she reached that 
age; then I was to give her into the protection 
of one whom I would deem worthy of the trust. 
She is now in her seventeenth year, and, as I 
explained to you before you met her, there is no 
one else to whom I would entrust her future but 
your mother and yourself. I have learned to love 
her as one of my own. I have taught her many 
things pertaining to the higher occult science, I 


did it because she so readily understood and be¬ 
cause her existence has been so pure, so lofty 
and so spiritual; so far above the actual gross¬ 
ness of the world.” 

“And how proud I am of this honor, Tokalon. 
She shall be as my own sister. Somehow I seem 
to feel that we have known each other before.” 

“I feel that too,” softly replied Demetra, then 
continuing, “I shall be sorry to leave thee, Toka¬ 
lon dear,” she said wistfully, “but I am happy to 
go with my new guardian to the great America, 
and I wonder,” here she paused and with the 
same far-away expression in her eyes, “and I 
wonder, Tokalon, what Fate the stars hold for 
my future?” 

The two girls made a charming picture of har¬ 
monious and colorful blending. Demetra pos¬ 
sessed a rare and elusive beauty. Her eyes and 
hair were like the deep mystic splendor of the 
night; her cheeks had the rich olive coloring of 
the Orient; her mouth was delicately curved, re¬ 
fined. Her hands were exquisite, the fingers, 
artistically slender and sensitive, had a touch that 
at once thrilled and soothed. She was a high- 
spirited, intense soul, full of wild abandon, at one 
moment sparkling with enthusiasm and joyous¬ 
ness, at another she was gentle, grave and in¬ 
clined to melancholy. 

Lilith completed the contrast by her subdued, 


restful temperament, her poise, her keen sense of 
humor, her depth of feeling, yet she was full of 
a refreshing gayety and altogether a delightful 
and irresistibly charming person. 

The storm was now subsiding and Demetra 
stood close to the window deeply absorbed. 

“I fear this storm will draw you out into the 
mysterious night and then you will be gone from 
me forever,” rang out Lilith’s voice in melodious 

Demetra murmured softly, “How fascinating, 
how terrible it is tonight.” Then she suddenly 
turned toward Lilith, “You know when I get to 
your great America, I shall take up writing. I 
must finish the work my dear father began. I 
feel that it is his wish, and since I have met you, 
there seems to be a greater inspiration and desire 
to write.” 

“I shall be very happy to assist and inspire you 
in your writing, Demetra, and I am sure it will 
please Tokalon also.” 

“Yes, it will make me very happy,” thought¬ 
fully answered Tokalon. 


The hour of the debut was near at hand. The 
young violinist’s education has been accomplished 
—but his future, his reception by the exacting 
public? Alasl that is the shrine at which the 
artist must tremblingly kneel and receive the 
verdict of approval or disapproval; that is the 
moment of anxious fears, of fleeting doubts. 
But ah! when that moment of suspense is trans¬ 
formed into a veritable realm of triumphant suc¬ 
cess and approval, then the artist becomes the 
shrine to which all the world will make a path to 
do homage. 

True to her promise, Lilith had returned to be 
present at the debut and with her was Demetra, 
“Daughter of the Mystic East.” 

It was a chilling December eve, bitter cold 
without—one of those nights in which the im¬ 
agination leads us to believe that a fairy sprite 
from her icy region has spread o’er the earth a 
blanket of rainbow crystals, for everywhere,— 
upon the trees, the buildings,—the frost had be¬ 
come crystallized into a glittering array of fan- 


tastic shapes and forms, and the city lay enveloped 
within the myriad folds of a veil of snow. 

And what a stir throughout the city was occa¬ 
sioned by the forthcoming debut of the young 
violinist, for was he not one of their very own, 
born and educated within this historic valley, 
under the protection of those mountains? Ru¬ 
mors had been afloat many months that he was 
the future musical genius of America, and since 
America was the great art center of the world, 
was it not plausible that upon whatever she placed 
her stamp of approval the entire world would do 
likewise ? 

The concert hall was crowded to capacity; the 
audience was brilliant, enthusiastic, eagerly ex¬ 
pectant. A box near the stage was occupied by 
Mrs. Vinson, Demetra, Lilith and her mother. 

Demetra was gowned in a lovely satin of an 
orchid shade and she wore a corsage bouquet of 
deep colored violets and orchids. The coloring 
of her gown seemed to illumine the rich black hair 
which clung so smoothly about her head; her dark 
eyes flashed with intensity; a slight flush upon her 
cheeks emphasized the more her Oriental beauty, 
and enhanced the brilliancy that shone in her 

Suddenly silence fell upon the hall; Lesaria was 
upon the stage! Then a wild burst of applause, 
warm and friendly, greeted him! He smiled 


graciously in acknowledgment, waiting seemingly 
through an eternity for the prolonged applause 
to cease, yet grateful for this enthusiastic recep¬ 
tion. He presented a slender, youthful figure as 
he stood before them, the light of genius illumin¬ 
ing his features. His eyes were keenly intense 
and radiant as he looked over that multitude be¬ 
fore him. A slight nervousness was apparent in 
his movements as he lifted his violin to his chin. 
But his fingers, unusually slender and sensitive, 
were upon the strings and the violin in his hands 
became a thing of life, breathing, pulsating, 

His first number was over. A storm of ap¬ 
plause arose from the audience. Lesaria felt the 
electric sympathy which emanates from audience 
to performer and his heart went out to them in 
gratitude. And now we are listening to the 
second number. Half-way through, and he sud¬ 
denly stops; his hands seem paralyzed. A mur¬ 
mur passes throughout the audience. He turns a 
beseeching glance around the hall; then his eyes 
at once rest upon the box occupied by his mother, 
Lilith and Demetra. Instantly he perceives the 
intense gaze of Demetra resting full upon him. 
An electric thrill of sympathy, understanding, 
recognition arouses him! A silent voice seems to 
whisper “play.” He raises his bow, it quivers 
slightly in his hand, then suddenly a flood of 


entrancing music sweeps over him and he pours 
forth from his violin marvelous strains of music, 
like the song of angels, penetrating every fibre of 
the souls of his hearers. Like a flaming torch, 
its unearthly beauty and sadness holds the people 
spellbound. His bow is enchanted with the 
music of Heaven and the sorrow of the world 
and his audience is eager to catch each magic note. 

But Lesaria forgot the multitude before him, 
the outside world; to him there existed only that 
one in which Demetra presided as the soul of his 
violin, as part of himself. The countenance that 
he had so often seen in his dreaming, was now 
before him in living reality. 

And now a deep silence, reverberant still with 
the strange, unearthly melody that he had given, 
pervaded the immense hall. The audience seemed 
dazed with the glowing beauty of his music which 
he had appeared to lift, like some mysterious, 
vanishing burden, from string to string, letting 
it float out like a wandering cloud captured in the 
poetic domain of the spheres of music. Suddenly 
they regained their consciousness; they arose 
as one and with one voice they shouted his 
name; they cheered; they called; they applauded. 
Lesaria had left the stage but was repeatedly re¬ 
called. Once more his eyes sought the box from 
which came his inspiration. He paled, trembled, 


for Demetra, like a vanishing mist had swiftly 
passed from view. 

Her whole soul, all her vitality, had gone out to 
him in that one critical moment of suspense. She 
had responded to the vibrations from his violin 
with an electrifying depth of intensity, and sink¬ 
ing quietly and suddenly to the floor had been 
immediately carried out. 

The audience had not seen, they were still 
wildly cheering for their artist, but Lesaria had 
seen the vacant seat. He smiled and bowed a 
gracious acknowledgment, then hurriedly and 
anxiously again left the stage. 

Lilith met him with a reassuring look. “Do 
not be anxious, she is quite all right now.” 

His eyes were filled with a silent, wondering 
inquiry. When he spoke it was in a hushed, in¬ 
tense voice, “Lilith, take me to her, I must clasp 
the hand of the one who has been the ideal of 
my fancies, who has given me such inspiration, 
so much of success tonight; who has shown me 
a glimpse of that world in which immortal music 
is created!” 

In another moment he was at Demetra’s side. 
How glorious she looked—her face was more en¬ 
trancing than ever in its pale beauty, with the 
wealth of black hair falling loosely about each 
delicate feature, and the dark silken eyelashes 
curling upon the fair cheeks. Lesaria gently took 


one slender hand into his own and in a voice 
betraying deep emotion murmured, “I am sorry 
that the strain was so intense, but how can I 
thank you? You don’t know what this has meant 
to me; not so much the material success I have 
made tonight, but just seeing you in actual life 
before me, a living breathing being!” 

Then Lesaria caught sight of the bouquet she 
was wearing. “Your flowers—they are dead,— 
those beautiful violets and orchids have given of 
their life to my music, your music tonight.” 

Demetra smiled tenderly and half-sadly up at 
him and she spoke as one musing upon memories 
of the far-off past. “Do you not remember that 
long, long ago we knew each other, in another 
realm, and parts of that melody, do you not re¬ 
member hearing it somewhere ?” And then added 
slowly, “It is Fate that has drawn us together, 
two souls that have yearned for souls known yet 

“Yes, somehow, I vaguely remember. That 
melody is the one I have so often longed to create 
and when I saw you tonight, when my fingers 
became stiffened upon the strings, your vitality 
warmed them with parts of that melody which I 
seemed to have strangely captured. Without you 
it would not have been given life, never re-cre¬ 
ated. It is you who have brought the vital spark 
into my music; you are the soul of my violin and 


through you I will yet give to the world the whole 
of that symphony which tonight came only in a 
straying melody. See how they have taken it, 
they are still calling to me; it has electrified them, 
just that bit of it, and when I give it in its com¬ 
plete creation to the whole universe, every rock, 
every mountain, every living thing, inanimate and 
animate, will hear it.” 

“Ah yes, every living thing, inanimate and 
animate, will hear it,” softly repeated Demetra. 

Lilith looked with happiness upon her two 
young proteges. She took their hands, “Two 
souls affianced by God, and may you together 
travel down that long path that leads to the glory 
of Infinite love and creation.” 


After his triumphant success, our young 
virtuoso was much in demand. His music was 
like exquisite harmonies stealing out of unseen 
worlds and back again, as if half afraid of the 
world of reality, yet finding a moment’s rare de¬ 
light ere passing again into silence. 

Now came a trip to Australia, for the golden 
artistry of his music was to be given to the world. 
Friends known and unknown from far and near 
had heaped upon him their warmest praise and 
congratulations. Lesaria was filled with a deep 
rapture, but it was not alone the great success he 
had achieved that gave him so much happiness. 
It was the wonder of his love for Demetra, who 
seemed to have burst forth from the world of 
haunting visions into his own world of life, burn¬ 
ing brightly as a beacon light whose fires once lit, 
cannot ever die. 

The time for the departure had arrived. He 
was to travel by aero car; the first part of his 
journey taking him over the great Arizona 
Desert. The car and its pilot awaited their mas¬ 
ter. Lesaria found it difficult to bid goodbye to 


Demetra; this great love which had come into 
his life was such an exquisite, glorious thing that 
a parting at this time was extremely painful. He 
folded her in his arms for a final farewell, press¬ 
ing a fervent kiss upon her lips. “My dear love 
—across the flaming desert sands, above the rest¬ 
less moan of the ocean wave, I shall be traveling; 
but oh, the song of your spirit will be my song; 
the beating of your heart against my own as I 
hold you here in my arms will be the music I shall 
play for them!” 

“And you,” she breathed, “as you are playing 
for them I shall be here gazing beyond yonder 
mountain peaks, listening, listening, listening, 
perhaps catching a delicate strain that may be 
borne to my ears upon the soft sighing of the 
evening air. The sensitive vibrations of your 
violin strings, the electric thrill of your fingers as 
they touch those strings, will impart to me the 
strains you are playing, for my spirit will har¬ 
monize with your own and my ears will be attuned 
to the sound of that music in distant lands.” 

“Yes, yes, you shall hear me and I shall hear 
you. My beautiful spirit, I love you so—but I 
must go now. Why there are tears in your eyes, 
what is the matter?” 

“Nothing, nothing—I am just too happy, that 
is all. They are waiting for you, you must go,” 
she exclaimed between her tears and smiles. 


Lesaria clasped her to him in a farewell kiss, 
then bidding the assembled group goodbye, 
entered the aero car which was soon soaring aloft 
upon the wings of the air. 

Demetra watched the car disappear into the 
blue depth of the heavens and still gazing after 
him she repeated, “Across the flaming desert 
sands, above the restless moan of the ocean 
wave,” then turning to Lilith, she said with a 
shudder somewhat of premonition, “the flaming 
desert sands, they are treacherous, I do not trust 

“But he is safe, Demetra, the car is an excel¬ 
lent one and the driver is skilled and reliable, do 
not have any misgivings over the journey.” 

“Lilith, you know the great love I have for him 
and I want him to be the wonderful success over 
there that he is here. Since the world has heard 
of his phenomenal playing they are impatient to 
hear him everywhere; they expect great things of 
him, and they shall not be disappointed. I know 
how he will play for them and how that music 
will haunt their memories, world-sweeping in its 
pathos, appealing in its depth, soothing in its 


Out upon the horizon, deftly poised amidst a 
universe of glistening sun-rays and half obscured 
by the sapphire blue of the heavens, was a heavy 
bank of drifting clouds, swiftly approaching, 
bearing a dark and threatening message in their 
sinister path. Thousands of feet above the 
scorching sands of the desert, and in the direct 
path of those foreboding messengers of wrath, 
soared the aero car which carried Lesaria Vinson 
on his journey. Cloud banks of fantastic shape, 
like yawning caverns or beetling mountains, soon 
enveloped them, and winds driving at a death- 
defying speed tugged and pulled, beating merci¬ 
lessly against the vaporous atmosphere; and at 
last, as if the anchor that held fast in creation's 
center had given way to the threatening forces of 
nature, down, down, down at a swift and helpless 
speed crashed the car. 

A sand storm upon the desert! With what 
awful horror the human mind contemplates such 
a storm! Great sand domes were cast up and as 
quickly torn down by the wind's relentless force. 
Whistling, moaning, crying across the barren 


waste, it sped on its way, carrying before it a 
wall of blinding sand! Here and there a cactus 
tree stood alone as if endeavoring to defy the 
onrushing monster of destruction; now and again 
a huge snake was seen to writhe and fight and 
struggle for safety under the downpour of sand. 
The air was a blackening, burning whirlpool of 
wind and sand. 

Suddenly the heavens seemed to fling open 
their casement and a moving background of 
nature enthralled the attention. A transparent 
glory was radiated; the heavy bank of clouds ap¬ 
peared to have hidden behind some remote curtain 
of the sky and the sun-rays beat down upon the 
face of the desert, now lying in smiling tran¬ 
quillity. In the distance a huge mound could be 
discerned, rising above the innumerable sand 
banks deposited in an uneven and broken chain. 
As an approach was made the visible outline of an 
aero car could be distinguished, as it lay half con¬ 
cealed. Beneath it a figure was struggling for 
freedom; a low moan was emitted from the 
wreckage and slowly and painfully a human form 
emerged. It was Lesaria Vinson. For an in¬ 
stant he stood erect, apparently dazed, then clasp¬ 
ing the arm of his pilot who lay half buried, he 
endeavored to free him from the burden of the 
car. Weakened and exhausted, Lesaria’s at¬ 
tempts at rescue failed and he sank back with a 


low painful cry. The fierce heat of the sun was 
stifling and scorching. “Demetra,” was the one 
faintly audible word framed upon his parched 

Away off in the distance a moving speck 
appeared, coming nearer and nearer. As it ap¬ 
proached it could be recognized as an ostrich 
carrying a human burden. Tokalon had come to 
the rescue! His master mind had captured the 
message of agony as it went up from the minds 
of those two men as they lay near death in the 
awful solitude of that awful desert. With his 
massive strength it was easy for Tokalon to 
remove the shattered hulk of the aero car and 
free the body of the pilot pinioned underneath. 
Placing the two men upon the soft bed of sand, 
Tokalon, clasping their hands within his own, 
willed his strength, his life, his vitality, into their 
beings. A healing touch that vibrated with the 
essence of the Divine and evoked from the human 
body all disease, all pain, all suffering. It soothed 
and invigorated and the dormant spark of life 
was stung into activity in those two bodies just 
hovering on the border line. His spirit radiating 
with a life-giving power emanating from the 
Supreme Master, Tokalon gave to those two men 
new life through the wonder touch of his hands. 

Let us leave the desert scene for an interval. 
Our friends are in the keeping of Tokalon and all 


is well with them., Another vital experience 
demands our interest, an experience which 
Demetra is relating to Lilith in the soft-toned 
magic of her voice. 

“An overwhelming power suddenly took con¬ 
trol of me, a force that was irresistible. My 
will was utterly opposed by another stronger than 
the unconquerable strength of the ocean wave or 
the wind’s wild destruction. People were all 
about me, I could feel their presence, they moved 
around me silently, slowly. Then out of the dark¬ 
ness the shadow of a human form emerged, 
standing apart and distinct from the light around 
it. It was heavily draped, the arms were out¬ 
stretched as if calling me to them. Then from 
behind this shadowy form appeared another 
figure, seemingly very near, yet far off. Then I 
felt the room vibrate delicately; a stream of pale 
blue light flooded through it and the shadows dis¬ 
appeared and all was darkness again. Suddenly 
the atmosphere was enveloped in globules and 
rays of light, many colored—orange, azure, 
green, fire red—and circles of purple and violet 
danced hither and thither slowly, then swiftly, 
the whole blending into a strange, colorful 
beauty. A sensitive vibration filled the room. 
The two forms again became visible. The heavily 
draped figure seemed to be still calling me and I 
reached out my hands in response but almost 


instantly it appeared to blend into that of the 
figure standing afar off and they faded again in 
a glory of light. 

“Something has happened to Lesaria but I 
know Tokalon is with him. He has been very 
near death, but Tokalon knew and he has saved 
him. Tokalon, the Seer and Teacher, is every¬ 
where and knows all things. He is always on 
hand to administer his healing touch. Oh, I shall 
be so glad to see him again for I know he is com¬ 
ing here and the truth of this apparently fantastic 
tale I have just related will soon be known.” 
Demetra’s dark eyes gazed into space, on an un¬ 
seen object; she was thoughtful and silent. 

“Surely it does appear all so strange Demetra, 
but what could have happened ?” inquired Lilith. 

At that instant the door opened and filling its 
space was the figure of Tokalon. Demetra ran 
forward. “You are here, Tokalon, but Lesaria 
where is he—what has happened ?” 

“Do not fear, all is well. He is here, in the 
next room. He must be kept quiet for a time, 
however, until he recovers from the shock, and I 
ask you not to disturb him yet.” Tokalon spoke 
with much tenderness and Demetra, slipping her 
hand into his, looked up at him in a mute appeal. 

“Tell me, Tokalon, what happened to him?” 

“Come, come sit down beside me and I will tell 
you all.” The two girls drew closely around him. 


“They were caught in a terrific sand storm upon 
the Arizona desert. Their car must have gotten 
in the direct path of those trade winds which one 
encounters in the upper atmosphere and together 
with the magnetic force of the desert storm, the 
machine became powerless and crashed to the 
earth. There was but one way for me to reach 
the place where they had fallen; but one way to 
travel that almost impenetrable sandy waste, and 
that was by my faithful ostrich, which I have 
used many times upon the great deserts of the 
East. It sped over those sand domes as if it real¬ 
ized the urgency of its journey, and we were soon 
by the side of the wrecked car.” 

“Ah, Tokalon, ,, exclaimed Demetra, “you did 
that, you saved him, you gave him back the life 
that was ebbing. Your strength became his 
strength. I am so grateful. But the pilot, what 
of him?” 

“He is safe too. But now you may go in and 
speak to Lesaria. You cannot remain long, for 
he must not be disturbed too much.” 

Demetra slipped into the room where Lesaria 
lay. At her entrance he turned and silently held 
his hand out to her, a radiant smile wreathing his 
features. She clasped it warmly and placing her 
lips upon his, she murmured, “My dear, you are 
with me, you are safe, I am so happy.” Then 
suddenly her eyes rested upon his left hand, 


which he was endeavoring to conceal. In that 
instant she herself seemed to be stricken helpless. 
Then realizing that she must not let him know her 
feelings she silently folded her fingers over his 
hand, raised it to her lips and pressed a kiss upon 
it and bending over him again said softly, “You 
will soon be well, Tokalon said so.” 

Speaking these first words with some effort, 
Lesaria said, “Who is Tokalon? I do not remem¬ 
ber anything except that I seemed to awaken 
from a stupor and our machine was upon us and 
I struggled from under it and attempted to drag 
the pilot out, but I was weak and fell again. I do 
not remember anything more until out there on 
that burning sand someone, a man, was sitting 
beside me, holding my hands. I was in pain, but 
his touch was soothing, restful, and it seemed as 
if I were in the presence of a great personage, so 
comforting, so peaceful was the power of his 

“That was Tokalon. When you are well I shall 
tell you all about him, but not now, you must 
rest,” and she closed his eyelids with her fingers 
and left the room. 

Going to Tokalon, a sob in her throat, which 
she endeavored to control, Demetra said, “His 
left hand is crushed. Will he be able to play 
again? When I looked at it as it lay there so 
helpless, that hand which has so thrilled the mul- 


titudes with its touch upon the violin strings, I 
was stunned. I wanted to cry out that it was 
impossible, it could not be true! Tokalon, you will 
save it, won't you; you will put new life into it?" 
and her voice was filled with an urgent pleading, 
throbbing with love and anxiety. 

“Do you doubt me, my Demetra child?" 
Tokalon paused, looking keenly yet sympatheti¬ 
cally at her. “Yes, it will be all right soon; he 
will have complete use of it again." 

“Oh, I am so sorry that I might have doubted 
you, Tokalon, but you will forgive me. It was 
such a cruel shock to me and I forgot in that 
moment I saw his hand lying helpless that you 
were here; that he was under your care. Yes, I 
know what you can do for him. I have complete 
faith in you and the Divine Power of your 
healing touch.," 


Dawn was breaking midst the early warbling 
of birds, the nodding smile of all nature at the 
beginning of another day. A gladdening ray of 
sun peeped in at Lilith just as she gave a fitful 
toss in her sleep and awakened as though she had 
been suddenly startled by the presence of some¬ 
one in the room. For an instant she looked 
around in questioning bewilderment. 

At that moment her mother entered. “My 
dear, you seem disturbed over something, what 
is it?” 

“No mother, I am not disturbed. But you 
know today I make my trip to the wonderful 
island where Tokalon has gone. “The Lost 
Island” it is called, and its mysteries and history 
will make a fascinating subject upon which to 
write and I am most anxious to get started on my 
journey. Tokalon is the only known person who 
dares to enter within its walls. Yes, it is sur¬ 
rounded by a wall and Tokalon is going to be my 
guide and from him will I learn many of the 
secrets of The Lost Island. Oh, but it will be a 



thrilling adventure. mother dear : but do not be 
anxious for me, I will be sale.” 

“But how will you reach this island f' anxiously 
inquired her mother. 

“I shall travel in my aero car. mother; I am not 
afraid.’ 7 

‘‘Yes. you are brave, adventure thrills you. 
Lilith. That is the spirit of you.'* thoughtfully 
replied her mother. 

It was somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean — this 
island on which no being had descended — and for 
years it had floated steadily, slowly, surely in its 
watery path. Xo one was able to tdl from 
whence it came or how long it had been thus in 
existence. A strange freak of nature indeed! 

But there was one person to whom the island 
was not a mystery. Tokalon. the great and wise 
teacher, knew of its history and was the only 
being who dared penetrate the regions lying 
wichin the confines of its rugged walls of lava 
and reck. But he could not tdl all its history for 
he was in secret bound to its still deeper secret. 

The aero car in which Lilith traveled glided 
swiftly through the douds and below could be 
seen the dark, deep blue of the sea. She had not 
been in the air long and yet a distance of hun¬ 
dreds of miles had been covered. Very soon, 
however, she observed directly below, the black 
outline of a portion of land resting upon the 


waller. She knew this was the famous 'Lost 
Island. As the aero car slowly descended she 
saw that entirely around the outer edge of the 
island was a great stone barrier, weird and rug¬ 
ged, and in many places immense stone spires 
were projected hundreds of feet into the air. 
Upon closer observation she saw that on one side 
there was an opening through four double bronze 
gates, onto a high terrace. At this spot her car 
glided gently down and in another moment 
Tokalon was at her side. 

“You are surprised, no doubt, to find yourself 
unconsciously directed to this strange island and 
you have arrived in a remarkably short time,” 
remarked Tokalon. 

“Yes, when I started I hardly knew the direc¬ 
tion in which to pilot my car and then I just 
seemed to drift to the spot. Oh, but I am so 
delighted to have this rare opportunity of such 
an adventure and it is very interesting/’ 
exclaimed Lilith. 

“I was sure you would be interested in this 
island for it possesses so many splendid possibili¬ 
ties in regard to your writing,” replied Tokalon. 
“But come with me and we will begin our explora¬ 
tions. First, let me explain—as you will soon 
discover for yourself—there is not another living 
being, to my knowledge, within this island, beside 
ourselves. Human existence here is impossible. 


You will find that you cannot remain here longer 
than twenty-four hours and that length of time 
is due to the fact that you are under my care, 
otherwise you would at this instant find yourself 
being slowly overcome by the surrounding 
mephitic vapors.” 

They walked on slowly. Lilith was intensely 
interested in all the weird, wild wonders of the 
place and fascinated also by Tokalon’s knowledge 
of the hidden truths of nature. He went on in 
his conversation. 

“The island is of volcanic origin, having been 
thrown off hundreds of years ago from a very 
destructive, active volcano. It was formerly a 
picturesque city and this particular portion of it, 
was an unusually beautiful cemetery. You will 
later observe the many marvelous pieces of statu¬ 
ary which once decorated the graves. At length 
the people were forced to abandon their city as 
the volcanic eruptions were so frequent and dis¬ 
astrous and so intense that thousands of lives 
were lost. 

After the desertion of their city, the volcano 
remained quiet for some time. Then one night 
an earthquake and a volcanic eruption, wild and 
terrifying, buried the city. That part of it which 
comprised the cemetery and which lay nearer the 
crater, by some freak of nature, was severed from 
the surrounding land and all these hundreds of 


years has slowly drifted through strange waters. 
It is a subterranean sea of fire itself for there 
are innumerable small volcanoes still active under 
this lava rock. That wall you see surrounding 
the island has been formed from the heated 
strata, which accounts for its irregular and gro¬ 
tesque outline and figures; and the atmosphere is 
continuously charged with stifling, poisonous 
vapors. The bronze gates through which you 
passed were the entrance to the cemetery.” 

They were now well within the central portion 
of the island. Everywhere could be seen the 
ruins of exquisitely carved statues. They passed 
under a huge arch, partially crumbled, but there 
still remained some of the carved figures which 
represented biblical pictures, and the wreathed 
heads of many angels reposed in the background. 
There were glimpses of many carved columns of 
black and white marble winding in rotation. In¬ 
side were galleries with priceless, inscribed slabs 
forming the floor. A little beyond at the entrance 
to a sepulchre, was another skilled piece of art. 
A little girl was laying flowers upon the tomb of 
her father and hovering above, as an angel, was 
her departed mother, with one hand outstretched 
in welcome and the other holding a trumpet. 

There were many such ruins of glorious beauty 
upon the island and Lilith was awed by all she 
beheld. At length they reached a building situ- 


ated high upon a terrace overlooking the entire 
island, which seemed not to have suffered to the 
extent of many of the others, for only one wall 
was partially crumbled. 

“This,” said Tokalon as they approached it, 
“is my abode upon the island. There are three 
rooms within it which are fitted up for occupancy. 
However, it is only on rare occasions that I come 
here and then I do not remain longer than two 
days. I come here when I wish to observe some 
infinite working of nature, some phenomenon of 
the Universe. Tonight will be particularly beau¬ 
tiful as a shower of meteors, or shooting stars, 
will make their path through the earth’s atmos¬ 
phere, accompanied by fire balls or meteorites 
which will descend upon the island. It will be a 
most brilliant and unusual spectacle and one 
worth your while.” 

They entered the building. The rooms were 
simply furnished and afforded an atmosphere of 
comfort and serenity from the chaotic ruins of 
the island. 

The descending sun was spreading its rich 
evening shade over the island, bathing each rug¬ 
ged outline of rock, each frightfully silent marble 
column, in a soft tender glow. It was not many 
moments before it flashed its farewell evening 
caress to the solemn ruins, to the waves of the 
darkening sea, and left but for an instant its 


afterglow declining across the heavens. Then all 
was darkness; but soon the millions of glittering 
worlds above smiled down from infinite space 
and the jeweled firmament was arrayed in all its 
mystic glory. 

Tokalon and Lilith ascended a narrow stair¬ 
way and reached the top of an observation tower 
in which were arranged the most minute, intri¬ 
cate devices known to science. Lilith looked 
round with further wonderment at these achieve¬ 
ments of man, marveling still more at the super¬ 
human power of Tokalon. Looking out from her 
position in the tower she could obtain a most inti¬ 
mate view of every spot of the island. Tokalon 
called her attention to the mechanism of the vari¬ 
ous instruments and it was with intense awe and 
interest that she listened to him as he unfolded to 
her their secrets. Indeed, the history of the Lost 
Island, its somber desolation and the ruined 
beauty of what was once a portion of a glorious 
city, filled her with a solemn, haunting dread and 
restlessness, mingled with enthusiastic ardor and 
amazement. She sensed an unknown strangeness 
in Tokalon and yet her own mood was one of 
terrible contemplation. A chilling apathy surged 
through her being. What was this terrible influ¬ 
ence around her and why did Tokalon seem so 
strange to her? Was there a diabolical spirit that 


pervaded the island and affected human beings 
in such a manner ? 

Tokalon remained quiet, silently studying the 
fair, perplexed features before him. He as 
silently took her hand and in a low voice re¬ 
marked, “It is a wondrous night; see what beau¬ 
tiful depths of color the sky holds and what a 
brilliant field of twinkling diamonds lie across it. 
But ah! See quickly! There is a shower of 
shooting stars, their darting trails of light mark¬ 
ing their paths through the atmosphere!” 

Lilith, now more calm replied in a tone of deep 
feeling, “Yes, Tokalon, it is wonderful. ,, 

Just then another vivid swarm of meteors 
encountered the earth’s atmosphere, leaving a 
striking, colorful radiance in their wake. In 
another instant a violent explosion caused the 
earth to tremble; a detonating meteorite in its 
swift brilliant flight buried itself in the earth at 
the further end of the island. As the great fire¬ 
ball weighing hundreds of tons crashed into the 
earth, there arose in the air a tremulous moun¬ 
tain of soil from the jaws of the newly made 
opening, which fell back again with a sullen rum¬ 
bling groan. The glaring flame of crimson 
quickly vanished as the meteorite struck the earth 
and a reflecting glow took its place. The fire 
stream had illuminated for a brief instant the 
heavens, the ocean, the island. 


Lilith was enchained in emotions that were 
too complex for understanding. “Tokalon,” she 
murmured, “this has been an experience of 
strange delight, of unutterable joy and knowl¬ 

“Just a bit of color to weave into your writ¬ 
ing,” he replied half-thoughtful, and Lilith de¬ 
tected a slight tone of grave meditation as he 
spoke. “But come,” he continued, “we will go 
and view at closer range this meteorite and the 
spot in which it fell. That, too, will greatly inter¬ 
est you. Then we shall take the aero car and 
leave the island.” 

They had not gone far when they observed a 
strange and uncanny figure approaching them. 
It appeared to be half-beast, half-man. Long 
shaggy hair hung from the head, face, shoulders 
and arms. It walked in a half-stooping posture. 
Upon seeing them it became wildly frightened 
and fell upon the ground. Tokalon gently took 
the shoulders and raised the figure. It mumbled 
incoherently and gesticulated in a fantastic man¬ 
ner. Tokalon looked steadily into the face. Un¬ 
derneath the tangled mass of hair could be 
discerned the fine splendid features of a man. 
Tokalon’s eyes looked long, deeply and sympa¬ 
thetically into the eyes of the figure before him. 
Under the spell of his gaze, the stooped shoulders 
began to straighten, the eyes lost their wild ex- 


pression. Tokalon knew he had mastered the 
savage instinct and that the real man was begin¬ 
ning to unfold before him. It was now the 
opportune time to speak. 

“Who are you and how came you here? No 
living being is known to exist upon this strange 
and treacherous island.” 

The figure seemed a little startled and drew 

“Be not afraid, I am your friend, and I want 
you to tell me about yourself.” 

The man appeared to realize a human voice 
was speaking and that he was looking upon a 
human being. Under the power of Tokalon’s 
personality, understanding came to him. 

In a voice strained and somewhat muffled, he 
spoke. “I remember now—it all comes back to 
my mind quite vividly. It was years ago, I cannot 
recollect how many. It was a brilliant night and 
a gay party—she was exquisitely beautiful and I 
was madly in love with her. So was he, and I 
was jealous, insanely so. He was dancing with 
her and as he held her in his arms and she smiled 
up at him with eyes filled with the love for which 
my soul was crying it struck my heart into a 
frenzy of mad jealousy. I challenged him to a 
duel. She and my sister pleaded with me not to 
resort to such drastic means but I was deter¬ 


“I left them both weeping and pleading in vain 
and he and I went into the woods, just a short 
distance beyond. I looked back and saw the bril¬ 
liant lights in the house and through the gardens 
and the picture of her lovely face was before me, 
tear-stained and sad, but I was resolute. Soon 
the shadow of the woods covered us and he and 
I fought long, unceasingly. At last we both fell 
exhausted and wounded. I do not remember 
what happened immediately after we fell. All I 
recall is that sometime later we were together in 
the ruins of yonder building—he and I. 

“For unknown years we have existed here. I 
do not know when or how we arrived upon this 
island. Our bodies are unkempt but our hearts 
have slowly softened toward each other as the 
dreary days have passed; yet we have spoken no 
word, still we have understood. That explosion 
just now roused us and I came out to see what it 

Then with a haunting far-away expression he 
slowly continued, “Your face, it looks strangely 
familiar too.” 

Tokalon was grave. “Yes, I too remember this 
incident which you have related. I was one of 
the members of the party on that fatal night. 
A number of us went out into the woods to look 
for you but our search was in vain. We expected 
to find you either dead or alive, but it was as 


though the earth had mysteriously swallowed 
you and we returned empty-handed.” 

The stranger turned pale, reeled. “Tell me of 
her,” he asked hoarsely. “Is she still living? 
And what of my sister ?” 

“Your sister and the girl still live,” replied 
Tokalon. “They are in a far-away country. 
They have searched far and wide for both of you. 
The girl has grown sad, quiet, and never yet has 
she revealed the secret buried within her heart as 
to which one of you she really loved. Perhaps it 
is best that she should carry it concealed into her 
grave for it is a sacred treasure of her soul and 
she is noble, pure and beautiful.” 

The stranger fell upon his knees before 
Tokalon and clasped his hands. His voice was 
broken as he whispered, “Thank you, thank you. 
I loved her so much and it comforts me to get 
word of her, but I pray you do not tell her or my 
sister that you found me here. Oh, I love her! 
I love her! I love her!” and he sank upon the 
ground in a final sleep of rest and peace, his soul 
living in the realm of true and Divine love. 

Tokalon tenderly lifted the lifeless body and 
made his way toward the strange abode of the 
two men. Upon reaching it he and Lilith de¬ 
scended into a deep passage under the walls of 
the building and there, lying upon a roughly 
made bed of dry grass, was the still form of the 


man’s companion. Underneath the long mass of 
hair about his face was the light of tranquil 
peace, of love and forgiveness. Death had but 
recently folded him into its arms. 

Tokalon placed their bodies side by side, and 
Lilith took from her shoulders a long silken 
mantle of white, covering the bodies as they lay 
together in their last sleep of forgetfulness and 
forgiveness. Tokalon knelt for an instant beside 
the still forms, his voice quivering slightly as he 
offered up a prayer. 

Then rising he said, “I knew them well. It 
was a strange mystery how they disappeared from 
the world that night and now the mystery of how 
they happened to be on this island is even more 
strange. Alas, it is but another of the freaks and 
tragedies of the island, and Death closes the final 
chapter and leaves us baffled and bewildered. 
They were both desperately in love with the same 
girl, as you heard him tell his story. Her life, 
too, has been broken by the tragedy of their 
mysterious disappearance and she has buried her 
secret with the memories of the past and no one 
knows which truly held the love of her heart.” 

Lilith and Tokalon passed out from the pres¬ 
ence of the Dead and wended their way toward 
the spot where the meteorite fell. They found it 
buried deeply in the ground, and all around were 
broken bits of ancient relics, of curious stones 


and images with here and there a ghastly skele¬ 
ton or numerous bones thrown up from the yawn¬ 
ing graves of the buried dead. They went over 
the destructive scene of the heavenly phenomenon 
carefully examining the strange crevices within 
this ponderous mass of mineral substance, gather¬ 
ing up specimens and making observations. 

With the approach of the midnight hour, the 
aero car with its two occupants, was hundreds of 
miles away from this Lost Island of unfathom¬ 
able wonder* 


“We never know what mysterious shadows 
are lurking near, to gather around us in a future 
doom.” A perceptible pause—then Tokalon con¬ 
tinued. “My young pupil, you needed me because 
that part of your creative mind which had not yet 
flowered, was seeking fertilization and out in the 
great Universe rang the silent call which brought 
you ultimately to me.” 

Lilith was silent for a moment. “Yes, 
Tokalon I knew I would find you some day, it was 
a knowledge that came to me in early childhood; 
a sort of throbbing message that urged me to 
seek you out and although I did not know how or 
when or where that meeting would take place, I 
knew I would be guided and that we would both 
understand. I have sought initiation into your 
own high realms—those realms replete with the 
lore of all understanding and where glows the 
Divine Intelligence of mankind.” 

“Yes, but it is a fearful price one must pay, my 
young pupil—a price for which the body is 
scarcely able to compensate. It means a rate of 
intensity sufficient to disembody the soul. A few 


return to tell of their experiences; some are un¬ 
able to get back upon the threshold of life; others 
are so overwrought by their fearful experience 
that the reason becomes dethroned and a fearful 
barrenness takes possession of the mind. 

“Not yet deeming you fearless enough to enter 
the final stage of initiation, I have invoked to 
your dreams the fairest of the inhabitants of 
these higher realms, and in your mind's fancy has 
been woven the most sensitive of creations, the 
most delightful of God's creatures. To enter 
these majestic spheres you must transcend in 
spirit all the universe, taking your flight beyond 
the clouds and with the eyes of your soul soaring 
to sublime heights, look upon that perfect beauty, 
the beauty that inflicts upon the enraptured spirit 
an ineffable wound of love the wonder and 
majesty of which no human language can de¬ 
scribe. Be not too anxious, dear pupil, to reach 
those heights, for it is an intensity that the flesh 
is quite incapable of attaining without ofttimes 
terrible results." 

“There have been those rare moments, Toka- 
lon, when my eyes have rested upon scenes of 
enchantment and glory. Fairest visions have 
been unfolded before my yearning gaze and it 
seemed but a natural thing for me to feel myself 
borne upward and onward in a never-ending 
flight. I have entered regions where palaces and 


people, flowers and trees, seemed to be created of 
the drifting clouds, the glittering gold dust of the 
stars. I have conversed with those inhabitants 
but never have I been allowed to linger among 
them for I belonged to the earth and to the earth 
I must descend again. But there is one ex¬ 
perience that presents itself to my mind quite 

“It is that of a most unique flight taken among 
the planets. A mysterious aero car was winging 
its way amidst the darkness, that darkness en¬ 
countered when one has gone beyond the path of 
the sun’s light. The pilot and his car had passed 
beyond the power of the earth’s gravitation and 
penetrated that sea of awful blackness and 
death-defying silence, a peculiar change had come 
over him in the space of a few moments. He 
and his car had diminished remarkably in weight. 
As he spoke to me his voice was strangely audible 
in that uncanny stillness.” 

“ 'My great desire is to reach Saturn. Psy¬ 
chically I have made the flight but it is in the 
interest of science that I am attempting to pilot 
this aero car and take my physical body with me 
onto that planet, returning in the same manner 
that I made the ascent and carrying back to the 
people on earth, tangible proof and evidence of 
Saturn’s inhabitants. But there is the magnetic 
pull of other planets encountered on the way 


which must be resisted. We are now being drawn 
toward Mercury which is more strongly negative 
than the other planets because of its near rela¬ 
tion to the earth. If we become engulfed in its 
wildly speedy path our celestial tour is at an end 
for Mercury's orbit will have claimed our mun¬ 
dane being.' " 

“Such a sickening sense of isolation as creeps 
over one hurtled along in that dark unfurrowed 
space! We just escaped, by some swift miracle, 
Mercury's magnetic power. Our supernal jour¬ 
ney continued on through the cosmic depths and 
next we encountered Mars, but we had no fear 
there, for Mars was too positive a force to detain 
us. Jupiter might have drawn us into the orbit 
but again a miracle saved us and we seemed des¬ 
tined to reach Saturn without the anticipated 
mishaps. The Hand of God had controlled and 
guided the aero car and as we swept on through 
space we realized the insignificance of our place 
in the spectacle of the Universe and how ma¬ 
jestic and awe-inspiring is the might of the 
Great First Cause, the Creator of the Cosmos! 
We were fast approaching Saturn. The pull was 
most forceful. Then the mysterious car and the 
still more mysterious pilot were suddenly hurtled 
into a whirling mass of nebulae and helplessly en¬ 
veloped in the overpowering path of Saturn's 
emanations. I did not see him again, and alas! he 


could not bring back to earth his physical body 
and the material of his celestial journey, for he 
was lost on Saturn!” 

Tokalon had listened thoughtfully to Lilith’s 
story and when he spoke it was in almost solemn 
tones. “A very remarkable and interesting ex¬ 
perience, thrilling and romantic to the extreme.” 

Lilith made no answer. In her silence she 
seemed to be endeavoring to solve the mystery of 
the lost pilot and his aero car. 

Then a sympathetic murmur escaped her lips, 
“Yes, it was both romantic and tragic and out of 
it I will create a beautiful story, the story of my 
lost pilot.” 

“But,” continued Tokalon, “The day is not far 
hence when we can and will communicate with 
the different planets. When man will be freed 
from the tyranny of time and space and be en¬ 
abled to fly aloft in a machine built especially to 
combat the trying forces encountered in the great 
space above. Also we will have an apparatus so 
delicate, so sensitive, as to register the thought 
vibrations of the inhabitants of these other 
planets and in that manner can converse with 


What mysteries were embedded within the im¬ 
penetrable confines of the bowels of the earth? 
Who had dared to believe what wonders might 
be sheltered thousands of miles under the earth’s 

Tokalon had dared to believe, had investigated 
and had discovered. At the most magnetic spot 
of the universe, the Magnetic North Pole, Toka¬ 
lon had directed his investigation. He found 
there electricity sufficient to drill an immense 
tunnel into the earth. This power was utilized 
and a miraculous piece of constructive work 
begun. After delving some hundred miles, the 
law of gravitation interfered., But at this point, 
Tokalon, with his wonderful understanding of 
electricity, nullified the magnetic power of gravity 
and through this tunnel gigantic volumes of earth 
were belched up from the jaws of an encountered 
stratum of fine burning sand. Meeting with no 
resistance, this continual precipitous mountain of 
sand, cast up at a height of five hundred miles or 
more, was slowly and steadily wearing a chasm 
into the underground walls, from which it was 


escaping, until at last it broke through the sur¬ 
face. The sand shot upward in a never-ending, 
untiring stream, mysteriously disappearing, hav¬ 
ing gone through the process of dematerialization, 
in some unaccountable manner. Tokalon, at this 
time, released his control of the law of gravity, 
and into this opening the ice floes began disap¬ 
pearing and crashing down this darkened pas¬ 
sageway until they reached a spot below the 
stratum of burning sand where they formed a 
phenomenal subterranean lake of boiling water. 

Let us stop for an instant upon the brink of 
this lake. Its waters appear of a crystalline 
beauty. When one gazes into its depths, how¬ 
ever, it takes on sudden strange color effects, that 
are weird, almost grotesque. Now it makes a 
rapid change to a reddish purple hue, curiously 
illumined with a yellow glow, then turns to a vivid 
green. As an immense glacier is swept into this 
seething body of hot water, a unique rainbow- 
hued spectacle greets our eyes. Immediately fol¬ 
lowing, the delicate transparency of the lake is 
again outlined by the surrounding blue blackness 
of the dense atmosphere, which brings into a 
strange relief the uncanny beauty of the lake. 

Its waters are intensely agitated and swirl and 
seethe and moan, as one after the other of these 
ice floes finds its wary way into this rebellious 
turmoil of heat and water. 


The powerful current of electricity is projected 
at a still greater distance. Suddenly there is a 
shock, a throbbing and trembling of the earth. 
An electric strata has been struck at the spot 
where the law of gravity ceases, this lake being 
the dividing line between the positive and nega¬ 
tive currents of electric force. Two thousand 
miles inside the earth and here is electricity of 
such unusual power that a living race of people, 
original, unique, make their homes in this sub¬ 
terranean realm. But we are to know more of 
them later and we now return to the tunnel. 

Its construction is such that it can be used for 
extensive underground travel to all parts of the 
globe. The east, west, south and north are con¬ 
nected by underground stations and # an aerosub- 
marine car has been created which can be used 
likewise for traveling in the air and inside this 
tunnel, and its speed and lightness can be ‘com¬ 
pared only with that of the bird. 

Again Tokalon has been the master of myster¬ 
ies. A builder and creator of rare power, he has 
opened up to mankind a simpler, more rapid and 
efficient method of reaching various parts of the 
earth in a remarkably short period of time. 


It was midnight; the sky was a deepening blue, 
so brilliant that one thought of it as an uncut, 
glittering sapphire poised in space. There was a 
glistening array of stars in this sapphire heaven 
that fired the imagination with incomprehensible 
pictures and visions. 

Suddenly out of the silent space there shot into 
the air a car of bright golden hue. Upward it 
sped in its mysterious path, swiftly and silently. 
And now accompanying this mysterious car, we 
will bid farewell to the earth and ascend into the 
ethereal realms with the car and its passenger. 
Both are intensely interesting, so settle yourself 
at ease and without fear, while we travel upward 
at the rate of thirty thousand feet per minute. 

Soon we are in an utter void of jet blackness, 
relieved by dazzling high lights and weird shad¬ 
ows. Our companion is silent, thoughtful as he 
rests one hand upon that interesting lever that 
controls his aero car and deftly guides us along 
this black interstellar path. At his left hand is a 
tiny phial which contains a colorless fluid. In¬ 
termittently it opens and closes, and immediately 


after we feel a cooling exhilarating sensation pass 
over us. This precious phial contains liquid air 
which supplies us with oxygen. 

This aero car is operated by radium energy and 
liquid air, each in itself powerful enough to carry 
the car to unlimited distances above the earth. 
But what of this strange journey we are taking 
in the celestial regions? We have ascended to a 
point where we are beyond the magnetic path of 
the earth's rotation. Our car remains stationary 
and the earth keeps on in her journey. 

All at once we begin our descent. The car 
gives a sudden circling motion as if being drawn 
down headlong by an intangible power which it 
cannot resist. A great suction or electric current 
seems to be drawing it nearer and nearer its 
magnet. As we approach the spot to which we 
are being involuntarily drawn, a great swirling 
volume of water is disappearing in maddening 
torrents down, deep down into a yawning chasm, 
inside the earth. We have been drawn to the 
magnetic North Pole and are at the mouth of the 
strange tunnel. Without warning we are caught 
in the treacherous vortex of water, but over our 
aerosubmarine car a waterproof hood is me¬ 
chanically drawn. 

Our companion is Tokalon and upon his finger 
he wears a ring containing a curiously colored 
stone. Upon first glance it looks like a dull, life- 


less blue, but as our gaze rests steadily upon it we 
see its luster become brighter, rich and dazzling. 
On the surface of the stone is a dark spot so small 
as to be barely visible. Tokalon touches it and a 
brilliant light radiates the darkness. It is an elec¬ 
tric stone and Tokalon is a human magnet with 
the power to draw to him and give out electricity 
in various ways. He has cultivated it within his 
own sensitive being to such an extent that his 
slightest touch vibrates and thrills with a potent 
electric force. 

The rushing, throbbing motion of the car has 
ceased. The waterproof cover silently falls from 
about it and we step out into the darkness but in 
an instant we are enveloped in a dazzling flood of 
light. Amazement overcomes us and Tokalon 
explains that we are two thousand miles inside 
the earth, within the famous electric strata where 
we are to meet and know the people who are the 
inhabitants of this underground world. 

A study of their temperaments and physical 
characteristics might lead one to believe they are 
the descendents of a lost race of the Egyptians, 
or mayhap a new-born race bearing a resem¬ 
blance to those early people. 

They are of medium stature, dark-skinned, 
with black hair and eyes, straight plain features, 
and a highly cultured manner. 

When Tokalon had first made his discovery of 


these people their method of living was somewhat 
crude. They had not fully utilized the electric 
resources surrounding them and their city had 
made no superior advancement. He soon learned 
that what they needed was the direction of some¬ 
one who could understand their peculiar tempera¬ 
ment and they were quick to adapt themselves to 
a mode of living that was progressive. They 
were strangely psychic and superstitious yet most 
tolerant toward anyone in whom they placed their 

There was one, Kasaan by name, a dominant 
character whom they looked upon with a degree 
of worship for he represented to them, in their 
peculiar superstition, the only religion they knew 
and they were easily swayed by his power over 

There was a mystery about them in another 
way—they seemed to hold the secret of eternal 
life, for age did not come upon them. The fresh 
beauty of youth radiated from every person 
dwelling within the Electric City. What was this 
“Fountain of Eternal Life” that permeated the 
atmosphere of this interior chamber of the earth ? 
None could tell. 


Tokalon had sought the young violinist and 
arranged for a recital in the Electric City. His 
unique aerosubmarine car, equipped to fly 
through the air and to descend with equal ease 
and facility into a rushing torrent of water and 
glide smoothly along was surely as curious and 
strange as the journey on which it went. 

The party of six, Mrs. Vinson and her son, 
Lilith and her mother, Demetra and Tokalon, 
were soon settled comfortably within the car’s 
cosy interior. They were expectant, eager for 
this strange journey and still more strange city. 
Silently and swiftly the car shot into the air as 
the hand of Tokalon deftly touched the lever. 

It was but a few short hours and they were in 
the Northern regions traveling amidst ice-laden 
clouds. With a metallic ring they swept over the 
crusted snow. The sun rose through this mist, 
revealing a parhelion of prismatic colors and a 
crevasse of rapidly changing form and brilliancy 
as the sun ascended. 

We travel on and the desperation, the despon¬ 
dency, the mystery, of the unknown impenetrable 



darkness, surrounds us. Maddening storms— 
hellish, destructive—with their icy vapors sweep 
over us We can see only a hazy, violet hue of the 
sinking sun on the horizon for now we are travel¬ 
ing above floating fields of ice. The dense vapor 
and darkness which have hung about us is break¬ 
ing and a fascinating scene of gorgeous color 
unfolds before our view. The midnight sun in 
all its weird, hypnotic beauty has cast its phan¬ 
tom rays over this intensely white world of ice. 
The Northern sky bursts into a flood of coloring. 
The firey shades of red and yellow deepen into a 
more somber depth of warm purple and violet, 
outlining the rugged surface of ice blocks in a 
delicate flesh tint, deepening at various angles 
into an intense blue. The shadowed surfaces and 
fissures display mixed hues of orange and green 
and momentarily a weird blue-black cheerless 
tone tenderly caresses a fantastic ice tower. As 
we slowly circle above nature’s moving canvas 
of luminous, wild color tones, we are enthralled 
and our hearts and souls respond with awe to 
this majestic scene. Suddenly we observe a great 
ice floe moving rapidly away and in another in¬ 
stant we are terrified as with a thunderous roar 
it disappears from view. Below us is a yawning 
chasm and before we realize what has happened, 
one after another of these ice floes as mysteri¬ 
ously disappears. We have not time to conjecture 


further, however, for we feel ourselves being 
drawn down by this unknown power. Instantly 
and silently the waterproof hood is drawn over 
the car and the next moment we are being hurled 
along a rumbling roaring passageway. The top 
of the phial containing the liquid air opens and 
the colorless fluid fills our lungs with oxygen. 

The car stops! Our strange journey is ended! 
The covering falls away; we step out upon a 
street radiating with light brighter than that of 
the sun. We behold this labyrinth, the Electric 
City, in all its hypnotic glory! 

The city was laid out with exquisite beauty. A 
brilliantly lighted boulevard was outlined on 
either side by magnificent buildings of blue stone. 
The streets were an iridescent glow of light 
which shone with a brightness outrivalling the 
sun’s rays. Millions of varied colored lights 
gleamed in scintillating glory throughout the city. 
This unusual method of lighting was the result of 
the deft touch and skill of Tokalon. The electric 
lights were generated by two positive currents 
meeting at controlling stations, so directed and 
focused as to cause electrons to rotate with suffi¬ 
cient speed to produce light, the color of which 
was controlled at the focusing stations by increas¬ 
ing the electric force and increasing or decreas¬ 
ing the wave length. 

In the center of the city loomed a tower of 


glistening beauty. It was built of marble blocks 
brilliant blue in color, and on the very topmost 
spire a halo of wondrously blending lights out¬ 
lined the tower in a bewildering glory and gave 
to it an imposing and uncanny grandeur. 

Let us go into this tower of mystifying charm. 
Two heavily plated glass doors bearing the 
legendary insignia and fellowship of Tokalon 
open into a spacious hall, majestic and noble in its 
strange atmosphere. In the center of the hall, 
bathed in a glory of light, stands a marble statue 
of a beautiful maiden. The slim graceful figure 
stands erect in an attitude of freedom and pro¬ 
gression. One slender arm is poised above her 
head and in this hand she holds a transparent 
sphere representing the Universe. On one side is 
the earth, and on the other, the Sun, Moon and 
planets—Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, 
Neptune and Alpha Centauri—with a line of 
communication and transportation by electricity 
leading to the earth. In the other hand, extended 
outward, she holds a glass ball of various, ever- 
changing colors. In each changeful color can be 
discerned a stage of man's progression and finally 
the electrical stage which is represented by the 
ultra-violet tone. 

At one end of the hall a door opens into the 
apartment of Tokalon. It is a large room and 
the delicate glow of light lends charm, and a 


soothing fragrance pervades the atmosphere.. At 
one side a faint bluish vapor is rising steadily 
and gracefully into the air from out a tall narrow 
lamp of finely carved ivory. In the center is a 
massive cabinet of jet black ivory, the image of 
an ancient Hindoo god. Its somber outline is 
the more accentuated by the blue-and-white walls 
of the room. But there it stands—a great im¬ 
movable figure—uncanny in its fearless watch. 
This dark cabinet figure holds many strange and 
secret chemicals, all of which are the invaluable 
treasures of Tokalon; treasures representing 
years of untold scientific experimenting and 

The other furnishings of the room are simple, 
a desk and four chairs, a table or two and a hand¬ 
some bookcase. 

We now pass into the art gallery. It is an ex¬ 
pansive and imposing hall and from the ceiling 
hangs a shining chandelier unique in design and 
lighting effect. The glow it spreads over the 
room is many toned; fervent golden, delicate 
saffron, richest scarlet, tender amethyst and a 
brilliant purple. The effect it gives upon the 
various paintings and sculptured forms is un¬ 
canny in its subtle, silent, changing radiance. 

“That/’ exclaimed Tokalon, “is a combination 
of electric stones made into this chandelier, for 
the purpose of giving the various lighting effects 


to the pieces of art displayed here. The human 
electricity absorbed from the artists themselves, 
into these paintings and figures, gives the stones 
life, radiance and warmth. At the time of my 
discovery of these strange people I found them 
all endowed with a special talent which was more 
or less latent and seemed to have been produced 
by their environment. 

“Indeed these people had created this city, but 
I saw greater possibilities for them. They were 
not making the most of the wonderful electric 
force by which they were surrounded. I went 
among them, studying their temperaments, and 
found that each one was an artist, individually 
creative. They needed someone to teach and 
direct them in constructive thinking and building. 

“There was among them, one who had held 
the master hand. He was a dominant character ; 
a highly developed psychic, intellectual, ambi¬ 
tious, clever; but with a strange dual personality. 
He was a worshipper of all that was pure and 
beautiful, and also of all that was evil and cruel 
and wicked. He exerted a peculiar, hypnotic in¬ 
fluence over his people and they in their supersti¬ 
tion, feared and reverenced him at one and the 
same time. In his shrewd mind he was coldly 
fiendish and revengeful, yet that inexplicable dual 
personality of his would radiate a compelling 


power, a subtle wit, a tender sympathy, a deep 
kindliness toward all. 

“When I came here he began to fear me and 
gradually his influence upon the people vanished. 
He lost interest in everything and ofttimes ap¬ 
peared like a hunted animal looking for its lair of 
safety. But one bond has remained unbroken; 
it is his love for Layna Nalon, a beautiful girl 
who mysteriously entered his life, and that love 
has greatly increased through his sacrifice in giv¬ 
ing up his position as head of the people here. 
He is different from the other inhabitants of this 
place and I often wondered if he were not of 
another people than they and by some strange 
fate came among them here. 

“One day he made a strange and unique appeal 
to me to become their teacher and leader, saying 
my influence was better for them than his own 
and that he wished to leave this place for good. 
I complied with his request and took his place. 
The response from the people was instantaneous 
and sympathetic. 

“First, I gave them music. The singing has 
brought them together in a human bond of love 
and poise and satisfactory achievement. Every 
individual is now a creator in his own sphere. 
We make the most rare and delicate laces, fabrics 
and musical instruments. Our artists have ex¬ 
perimented and discovered pigments of richest 


hue and the paintings are full of lasting warmth, 
beauty, tone and color; never losing their first 
fresh lustre. A hitherto unknown marble has 
been discovered from which our sculptors chisel 
into shape their wonderful figures of art. 

“But there is in our city a thing of rare won¬ 
der and beauty. We call it the 'Cave of Musical 
Diamonds.’ Come with me and you shall see its 

We were now upon the threshold of a radiant, 
bewildering scene.. The Cave in all its enchant¬ 
ment surrounded us. But such exquisite music— 
what was it? The echo of it enveloped us. The 
notes seemed to be floating from the lightest 
touch of finely attuned stringed instruments. 
We entered yet deeper into the mystery of the 
Cave, Tokalon still our guide. Before us was a 
flashing array of blue and yellow stones. 

“Those are stalactites from the rocks. Their 
composition is that of the diamond and produces 
a vibratory rate of very high pitch, giving a 
quality of music so potent that it seems to speak 
to the soul of the hearer, as a voice calling from 
another world. In the production of this music 
the discovery of the relationship between light 
and sound has been made!” exclaimed Tokalon. 

Full scope was given the imagination in this 
“Diamond Cave Music Hall.” All around us, 
everywhere, the intermittent echo of a melody in 


all its intoxicating beauty was wafted to our ears. 
The Cave was aglow with lights from overhead, 
which sparkled like the stars of the heavens on a 
bright clear night. A little beyond was the audi¬ 
torium where the music festivals were held and 
where our violinist is to give his concert. 

As we moved toward this building a man of 
singular and rather unprepossessing appearance 
approached. His features were drawn and sub 
len; a mass of straight, black hair lay close to his 
head; his eyes were narrow, deeply black, with an 
expression evasive, cynical, penetrating, and yet 
in them flashed a glowing kindliness and beauty. 
His hands were long, thin and fascinatingly ugly. 
He possessed a peculiar dignified poise. At the 
sight of Tokalon a slight smile flitted across his 

Tokalon took his hand. “This is Kasaan, of 
whom I have been telling you; once the master of 
his people here but for some reason known purely 
to himself, he has decreed to relinquish that 

“In respect to a more worthy personage, I 
assure yon” added Kasaan, bowing almost 
humbly before Tokalon. 

Kasaan was introduced to Demetra and im¬ 
mediately became absorbed in her personality, 
murmuring quite inaudibly, “most fascinating, 
exquisitely beautiful.” 


Demetra shot a clear, cold glance at him but he 
appeared not to notice and under the influence of 
her radiant beauty and personality one fancied 
he became transformed for that instant into his 
higher self. We seemed to catch a glimpse of the 
finer man. 

Kasaan slowly left the auditorium and, for the 
first time since Tokalon had entered the Electric 
City, he sought the crevice in the rock where he 
was accustomed to commune with his inner self. 
Here he was alone, shut out from both the inner 
and outer worlds, yet he could seem to hear and 
know them both. Faint rumblings of the inner 
earth disturbances or the electrical disturbances 
among the clouds tormented his conscience, or 
was it the volcano within himself surging for an 
outlet? Who can tell? For at such times of 
great stress one is only conscious of conscious¬ 

So Kasaan, on fire with a new love, found him¬ 
self writhing with emotions beyond his control. 
How could he relinquish the wonderful protective 
love he had for Layna Nalon to accept the great 
stimulative love he had found in the new De¬ 
metra? The former, with her tenderness, had 
reduced him to his present secondary position 
under the supreme control of Tokalon, while 
Demetra inspired him to create again as he had 
before meeting Layna Nalon. 


So through a long, sleepless night Kasaan suf¬ 
fered the tortures of Hell. His arteries and veins 
pulsated as though filled with red hot lead, his 
eyes bulged from their sockets and his dilated 
pupils marked the early stages of insanity. His 
nature was one that knew the two extremes of 
suffering and happiness. 

The morning brought little change, and it was 
still left for Fate to make the decision for him. 


Layna Nalon had been rather a mystery on that 
long ago day when she first came into the life of 
Kasaan. Somehow she seemed so different from 
the other inhabitants of the Electric City. From 
some unknown and obscure abode in that en¬ 
chanted realm, she had emerged to take her place 
in his life. He only knew that they had met and 
loved; how or when or where did not matter. 

A creature of physical perfection, a contra¬ 
diction within herself, she was the idol of his 
heart. Dazzling in her dark beauty, tantalizing 
in her indescribable reserve and aloofness, every 
movement was one of perfect grace, bearing the 
loftiness of a queen. Her personality was irre¬ 
sistible ; her moods had all the light and shade of 
her nature. Gentle and soothing she was at 
times, imperious and haughty at another moment; 
then a soft pleading was betrayed in her tones 
and glances to which one ultimately succumbed. 
Her eyes held a warmth of love; but there was an 
impenetrable coldness, an unkindliness about her 
mouth and chin that was almost cruel. The tex¬ 
ture of her skin was as delicate as the wings of a 


butterfly. Her hands, perfect in their beauty, 
had a clasp of decision as unyielding as her 

To look upon her was Heaven; to love her was 
Hell. Her glowing charm, her enthusiasm, her 
fiery temperament stimulated to great achieve¬ 
ment, but her moods of irritability, calm indif¬ 
ference and lack of sympathy made one despise 
while longing to love her. Kasaan loved her 
madly, and she returned his love with all the un¬ 
reasoning passion of her complex nature. Her 
love was a fire that consumed yet stubbornly 
smoldered under a mantle of reserve, often to 
flame up in destructiveness at some unexpected 

She was a sculptress of much ability, giving 
to many of the cold figures she created, such a 
depth of feeling and intensity that they seemed 
warm with pulsating life. 

Layna was at work in her studio when Kasaan 
entered. He walked up to her, looked at the cold 
marble she was chiseling. 

“It is very beautiful, 1 ” he said, “but there is 
something lacking.’' 

She looked at him a little puzzled. “What is 
it?” she asked quietly. 

He looked thoughtfully for a long time at the 
half-finished figure. “I do not know,” he replied 
slowly and in a low voice. “Perhaps it is only 


my imagination after all, for today is one of those 
days when all beauty is harsh and lifeless, when 
the very atmosphere is charged with a weariness 
that depresses, when all music is but a rumbling 
clanging noise, when everything is lifeless and 
uninteresting; even love is dull and annoying. 
The whole world seems upside down—the uni¬ 
verse but a hectic, chaotic mass of atoms.” 

Bewildered by this sudden outburst, Layna 
said nothing, but gazed silently as if trying to 
penetrate the unknown space. Then as if speak¬ 
ing to someone in a distant land, she said, 

“Yes, you are tired, I have seen that for a long 
time—ever since that Egyptian girl, Demetra 
came here, and—” she paused,—“I am going 
away, Kasaan. I am going away from this un¬ 
derground abode and out into the light of another 

world. You are tired of me and perhaps-” 

she stopped as if weighing her next words, “per¬ 
haps I too am tired of you.” 

At this remark, Kasaan started a little, then 
suddenly clasping the fingers that held the chisel 
and looking into her face, he said, “Layna, do you 
mean that? Surely you are not serious?” 

A little cold smile played about the corners of 
her mouth and she made no answer. 

He loosened her hand from his own, his voice 
was husky as he spoke, “You look at me like that, 
with that smile upon your lips and I do not know 


what to believe. Your eyes say one thing, your 
lips another. You little devil, you torture my 
very soul by the cold and fire that throbs through 
your veins.” 

“Yes,” she cried impulsively, “I am tired too— 
my very soul is sick. The very best that is in me I 
have endeavored to put into this work, yours and 
mine, yet I am utterly miserable. Why? Be¬ 
cause it is not the finer part of my nature that 
you love. Ah yes! You have held me in your 
arms and sworn your love, but it is only the phys¬ 
ical beauty, only the worship of my body. I have 
wanted you to love that within me which has tried 
to arouse in you the expression of your own cre¬ 
ative powers. To look upon you one sees ugli¬ 
ness of form and feature; your hands are hideous 
in their ugliness. But to me this has meant noth¬ 
ing for I have loved the finer things of your inner 
self, which others cannot see or understand. Ah, 
we have both failed miserably. 

“Yes, I have grown tired, my whole being has 
revolted. There is nothing in life that is good 
and beautiful to me now. I deny everything! 
The instincts of cruelty, hatred and revenge 
which you have reminded me that I possess, shall 
now have full sway. My body with its physical 
beauty is a curse to me! 

“That piece of marble—look at that half- 
finished figure, cold and lifeless. Its body is not 


beautiful—you said something was lacking. It 
is true, for its creation has come from cruelty and 
hatred; it is ugly because you have made it so. 
See how its unfinished lines mock and jeer! 
Kasaan all the destructive forces within me are 
unleashed and nothing but disaster and failure 
lies ahead of me—and ahead of you too! It is 
love misused and misdirected, love gone mad! I 
hate you Kasaan, I hate you!” she cried, and with 
one strong stroke of the chisel she shattered the 
figure upon which she had been working. 

Kasaan too amazed, too stunned to anticipate 
this rash move, stood a helpless spectator. Then 
he clutched both her hands, and looking intently 
at her, exclaimed, “Layna, you have gone mad, 
mad with jealousy, hatred and suspicion. The 
things you have said are untrue. I have loved 
you more than any other mortal. Day and night, 
every moment, your presence is near me. Within 
my heart there is a shrine of your lovely face, at 
which I worship. You cannot, must not, go away 
and leave me like this. Let us go out into the 
world together; go through life constructing 
things of beauty and giving happiness to others.” 

“No, no, it is too late now.” Layna’s tone be¬ 
trayed the bitterness of her pent-up passion. 
“Goodbye,” and she held out her hand, “try to 
think the very best that you can of me. It is 
better that I leave you at this time.” 


“But, Layna, I do love you, this is madness. 
Think what it means to us both,” Kasaan cried 

She stood immovable, and looked at him coldly, 
calmly, uttering no word. Then that smile so 
cruelly tantalizing played for an instant about the 
curves of her mouth. 

“My God! That smile drives me to madness!” 
he shrieked as she passed silently out. 

Alone now with his thoughts and grief, he 
pondered over the things she had said to him. 
Analyzing the situation presented, he realized he 
was in love with Demetra, or with something she 
represented. At least there was something which 
had not found a response in Layna. 

To him Demetra was the essence of spiritu¬ 
ality, while Layna was the embodiment of all 
earthly beauty with which he had become so 
enamoured that he could love nothing but her 
physical charms. 

But now as his loneliness and grief grew upon 
him something like a fiend took possession of him. 
He had lost Layna. And Demetra—what of 
her ? He knew she did not love him, yet if it had 
not been for her he would still have Layna. Not 
wishing to put upon Demetra the blame for a 
condition of which she was totally unconscious, 
he endeavored to put it out of his mind. But 
like a haunting spectre, that one thought—his 


Layna was gone—shadowed his mind. He was 
going to be revenged for that loss. He could not 
understand that he alone was the one responsible 
for the action of Layna in going away from him. 

Man loves and admires the physical charms 
and beauty of woman; he likes to claim it as one 
of his possessions, to feel that it belongs to him 
by right of conquest. There is a time when even 
a woman without physical charm will appeal to 
him. She may be coarse, unrefined, yet the other 
element of her nature responds to his desire for 
expression on the first plane. Then comes the 
desire of the psychic self for expression; the 
highly developed sensitiveness and spirituality of 
another woman appeals to him on the higher 
plane and she stimulates and inspires him to cre¬ 
ate and deliver to the world some great master¬ 
piece of art or music. And so it was with 
Kasaan. The physical charms of Layna de¬ 
lighted him, but it was the delicate sensitiveness, 
sweet tenderness and infinite purity of Demecra 
that awakened in him the possibilities of his 
higher nature—those possibilities that Layna had 
endeavored to arouse—that expression of his 
once highly developed psychic mind. 


It was a fantastic, distinct structure, this audi¬ 
torium in the Cave of Musical Diamonds. The 
platform was constructed, tier upon tier of stones 
of varying vibratory rates of musical intensity. 
The walls of marble on either side were so elec¬ 
trically sensitized as to carry the music played 
within their confines, upon electrical waves out 
into the universe where it was heard in various 
halls throughout the world, constructed in such a 
manner as to receive the delicate vibrations of 
music played within this electric auditorium in 
the Cave. 

One of these unique halls was in Salt Lake 
City, the birthplace of Lesaria Vinson. Standing 
amidst the majestic serenity of a pine grove, high 
upon a picturesque hillside, overlooking the Val¬ 
ley, it proclaimed to mankind a newer epoch in 
the field of art and science—an ideal fraught with 
the magnificence of the sublime. 

Tokalon, with a soul alive to the worship of 
music, had conceived within his fertile brain the 
bringing into creation of an ideal that would 
break the shackles of convention which bind the 


inspiration of genius, and give to the entire world 
at one moment, the palpitating beauty of inspired 
music. In the creation of these halls his ideal 
had been realized. 

Among all the peoples of the earth, human 
nature is much the same, imbued with the same 
emotions, the same fundamental instincts. In the 
heathen there is response, in his crude demonstra¬ 
tions, to the stimulus of music and he should be 
permitted the same privilege of enjoying the 
music of the genius, as his more cultured and 
civilized brother. Through music is revealed to 
him man's aspirations, progress, development 
from the merely material phase of life to his tri¬ 
umph over the physical powers and the attain¬ 
ment of a higher life through appreciation of the 

And now let us acclaim the manifestation of 
this unique world-wide premiere. We are in the 
Electric Auditorium of the Cave of Musical Dia¬ 
monds. The inhabitants of the Electric City 
have thronged the hall. There are some visitors 
present, too. Alvan Huntington, the young 
scientist, still very much in love with Lilith and 
hopeful of gaining her hand, has arrived, accom¬ 
panied by Lilith's mother and Mrs. Vinson. 
Demetra, Tokalon, and Kasaan are there also. 
A serious illness has kept Lilith confined to her 
new home in the Electric City. 


The hall is a flood of yellow light emanating 
from innumerable hidden reflectors, while the 
platform is bathed in a brilliant ray of gold which 
every few seconds flashes forth throughout the 
place in a gradually fainter hue, blending into a 
delicate spray of ultra violet upon the blue marble 

A hush, a silence, suddenly fills the hall. The 
soft breath of muted strings echoes through the 
air. The young player is upon the platform and 
the strains of music as they leave his touch are 
being carried simultaneously around the world, 
registering the performance in each one of the 
electric halls and giving to the multitude assem¬ 
bled, an exact reproduction of the inspired music. 
His playing carries the same penetrating message 
of beauty and color that has always belonged to 
his art. Never has a performer been presented 
in a more unique manner and before a people so 
mysteriously remote and distinct from the outer 
world a people awakening to the throbbing activi¬ 
ties of life, aroused from the stagnation of their 
own creative powers. And with what genuine 
enthusiasm they receive the young violinist; what 
innate understanding and appreciation they mani¬ 
fest. It seems as if a whole orchestra were com¬ 
bined within that one instrument and they grasp 
breathlessly every delicate strain as it resounds in 


a dying echo throughout the building, an echo 
carried through the Cave, the entire city. 

Let us turn our attention for the moment to the 
party of people half obscured from view in that 
spacious box upheld by four handsomely carved 
marble figures; a box extending back from the 
platform itself and so constructed as to prevent 
its occupants from being observed by the audi¬ 
ence. It is hung in luminous gold and blue dra¬ 
peries, their rich soft folds lighting and shading 
the interior of the box. 

Demetra, Tokalon, Mrs. Vinson, Kasaan, Al- 
van Huntington and the mother of Lilith were 
the special guests of this box tonight. Demetra 
was completely absorbed and lost to the world 
around her when Lesaria came upon the plat¬ 
form. She listened to his playing with an under¬ 
standing beyond the comprehension of human 
being. There was an intangible remoteness that 
was part of herself. Within the depth of her 
quietness, there was a tantalizing fascination 
which Kasaan found curiously disturbing. In 
vain he endeavored to penetrate this profound 
quiet, to gain one glance from her eyes, one word 
from her lips. But the perfect calm of Tokalon, 
and the infinite power of the loving tenderness 
with which he had nurtured Demetra from the 
first day he had found her, had always been an 
armour of protection with which he surrounded 


her and she was secure from any adverse influ¬ 
ence, unless some sudden, unrelentless Fate, some 
diabolical power over which he had no control, 
entered in and severed the golden thread of this 
protective love. But Fate had peculiarly marked 
the path of this fair young creature and her des¬ 
tiny was ever to be influenced by events and cir¬ 
cumstances over which she had no control. Hers 
was to be a life apart from the ordinary existence 
and one upon which depended another's career, 
happiness, inspiration, success. 

The recital was now at an end and the audience 
was dispersing and the brilliant young performer 
had added new laurels to his glowing wreath of 
fame. The entire world had heard him and had 
approved. Tokalon’s electric halls had been a de¬ 
cided success in receiving and reproducing the 
music projected from this auditorium and send¬ 
ing it out upon the sensitive electric waves 
throughout the universe. The simple theories of 
electricity which science had believed to be an un¬ 
fathomable mystery had been put into the crea¬ 
tion of these halls and the power of the funda¬ 
mental laws of electricity and magnetism had 
been demonstrated. The world was alert, won¬ 
dering what the austere wisdom of Tokalon and 
the genius of Lesaria Vinson were to give them 

Kasaan was genuinely gracious in his praise to 


the brilliant performer and to Tokalon for his 
achievement in the construction of the halls. 
Almost abruptly he extended his hand to 


“Are you leaving us?” she asked in evident 

“Yes, I am going out among those people to 
which you and your friends belong; out again 
into the world from whence I came long ago. 
Your great master, Tokalon, is doing more for 
the people down here than I ever could do. They 
no longer need me and I have work to do in that 
great world outside, so I am leaving here now. I 
wished to hear your wonderful violinist play, that 
is why I remained until this time. But why do 
you all look so wonderingly at me ? Perhaps you 
are puzzled by my strangeness. But I will tell 
you my story—the story of this city, these people 
here, and myself. 

“It was during the world war of 1914 that it 
all happened. I, with a crew of six men, was 
operating a German submarine in the Mediter¬ 
ranean. We had set out to destroy a British ship 
sailing from a port in Egypt. Then came the 
fateful day. We torpedoed the ship but saved 
the lives of the people aboard. There were 36 
women and 24 men, most of them Egyptians, 
although there were some English and French 


among them. We transferred them to the sub¬ 
marine and started on our way to Germany. We 
had not been traveling for many hours when the 
submarine suddenly became uncontrollable and 
we lost all sense of direction. We kept going 
down until we were many fathoms below the 
surface of the ocean and our rising gear could 
not be adjusted. We were getting nearer and 
nearer the ocean floor when all at once we were 
caught in a swirling current and dashed swiftly 
down, down, down. It seemed an eternity that 
this mighty force held us. Our air tanks were 
exhausted. The men clutched at their throats 
and the women fainted. Terror reigned, with 
the vivid realization that the end had come. A 
painful, suffocating death awaited us. Then 
quite suddenly, as if by some miracle, we found 
ourselves in a brilliantly colored lake. Its phos¬ 
phorescent glow illumined our pathway. It is the 
same lake through which you came in your aero- 
submarine. We were not yet out of danger, how¬ 
ever. The powerful undercurrent of the lake 
hurled us still more deeply into the bowels of the 
earth. In another instant we felt a resistance and 
the mad journey of the submarine came to an end 
as a tremendous electric force held the car against 
the swirling current. Slowly the submarine 
began to turn as one force resisted the other and 
we were gradually and carefully lifted out of the 


current. The life giving essence of the electricity 
was more than revivifying. We seemed to no 
longer demand oxygen to sustain us. 

'There was no way of returning to the world 
we had left for our submarine, even though re¬ 
paired, could not overcome the tremendous cur¬ 
rent which had brought us here. We then 
proceeded to build the necessary dwellings and 
make this place our future home. We discovered 
certain plant life which served as a physical sus¬ 

"This Electric City holds the secret of everlast¬ 
ing life, for in all the years we have been here, 
death has not come among us and no one is a day 
older than that first day when we found ourselves 
here. We have lived in peace and harmony and 
propagated our people until now we number about 
95,000. I do not believe there is one among those 
who were in that submarine, who would wish to 
return to the outside world, because here there is 
a beauty and happiness one does not find on the 

"Kasaan, you have solved a mystery for us in 
giving the facts of these people, but why are you 
leaving them?” asked Tokalon. 

"Because I am no longer happy here. This 
place is not for me now and I must go.” He 
turned to Demetra, his eyes gazing steadily at 
her, his face wearing an inscrutable calm, “We 


shall meet again—you and I—and at a time when 
you will need me” and he was suddenly and 
mysteriously gone, leaving them all perplexed and 
wondering at his strange mood and prophecy. 


The recital over—Kasaan gone, leaving us the 
story of the Electric City, we return to the studio 
where Lilith awaits us and the news of the re¬ 
cital. She is resting more comfortably now and 
is enjoying the refreshing fragrance which per¬ 
meates the atmosphere* Something akin to a 
divine presence fills the room. 

Her voice, as she speaks rings out in clear, 
strong tones. 

“Oh, I know it was a wonderful success, 
Lesaria, and I have something very interesting to 
tell all of you, so gather around me closely. 
Tokalon, it has been such an achievement for you 

As Tokalon spoke there was solemnity yet tri¬ 
umph in his voice. “Yes, it was a great success. 
The vibrations even reached Mars find were 
registered there. I can tell from your expres¬ 
sion Lilith, that you have seen and heard that 
which we have not. Your spirit was carried upon 
the wings of music to the planet Mars. Tell your 
experience to your mother and friends here, they 
will be interested.” 



Lilith began in low tones, yet there was some¬ 
thing almost whimsical in her voice. 

“At the moment Lesaria stepped upon the 
platform, my soul, loosened from its earthly fet¬ 
ters, took a transitory flight. A faint melody, as 
if borne upon delicately textured rustling wings 
was transfused throughout the room and before 
my vision, gliding silently to and fro, were silent 
forms draped in lightest gossamer, resembling 
the outline of the human form. They were trans¬ 
parent beings, now moving in graceful aerial evo¬ 
lutions, again mysteriously vanishing apparently 
blending with and becoming part of the atmos¬ 
phere in which they moved. I fancied they 
chanted the soft echo of some unspeakable glory. 

“Then suddenly I was aware of a powerful 
presence near me. The blood coursed rapidly and 
with an unutterable thrill of freedom through 
my veins. My limbs seemed joyously loosened 
from tightening fetters and I began swiftly to 
soar, to float away and afar off. The earth van¬ 
ished from view. On and on I traveled with un¬ 
impeded lightness. Cloud after cloud rolled 
from my gaze as I was borne on through limit¬ 
less space. And ever by my side, leading me, was 
this powerful presence, intangible and impalpable. 

“The solitude of a worldless world of starry 
nebulae enveloped me. And still, standing apart 
from this chaos of nebular matter, was the form 


cf the one who was leading me, the hand out¬ 
stretched, beckoning me on. A myriad system of 
suns and stars and planets moved about us in a 
gigantic, chaotic splendor. Hideous figures 
Wined dimly into view; monster reptiles, appar¬ 
ently harmless, writhed and crawled and coiled 
about in this, the first stratum of a newborn 
world. This disordered planet of chaos, strug¬ 
gling into a life of order, and its innumerable 
shadowy inhabitants were left far behind and in 
another instant I beheld a world of radiant glory 
and symmetrical beauty—the creation of a sub¬ 
lime intelligence. 

“Presently tie shadowy outline of a building 
district in my memory, came into view. It was 
the theatre on Mars, and there upon the stage 
where long, long ago I had seen the opera per¬ 
formed. Lesaria stood with his violin, playing 
wondrous music to a spellbound audience of those 
people. Then vividly came before my mind, the 
day when my little brother and our girl compan¬ 
ion and I, had attended the opera and he had 
confided in us his desire to be a great violinist. 

k Tn this transit of my soul from the earth to 
Mars I discovered many things, among which 
were the records of our transmigration from 
Mars to the earth- Lesaria was my brother there 
and Demetra was the companion who shared our 
love and friendship* 


“I also vividly realized the difference between 
the happiness of an existence on Mars and the 
struggle for happiness on this planet. Such a 
thing as war is unknown there. The transacting 
of business is never done with profit as the high 
aim but always with the idea of giving as much 
as possible for any stipulated exchange. And 
everyone is happily busy, creating and construct¬ 
ing. Unrest, poverty, dissatisfaction are un¬ 
known for each does his best for the other’s com¬ 
fort instead of the least for what he can get. 
What a contrast to this world of strife, war, un¬ 
employment and suffering, is this inverted aspect 
toward one’s neighbor. 

“But what a strange reunion of our three lives 
has Destiny’s hand wrought and how evident is 
the mutual attraction and harmony that has ex¬ 
isted between us since first we became reunited 
upon the earth, each to be an inspiration to the 

“While I was absorbed with the picture and 
memory of our existence upon Mars, I suddenly 
perceived a ghostlike image of myself in the hall 
in the Electric City, a double phantom of myself. 
Here I was in the theatre on Mars listening to 
Lesaria playing and there I saw myself among 
your party occupying the vacant chair in the box. 
The scene then immediately changed. The walls 
in the Electric Auditorium in the Cave appeared 


to open upon the outside world, and I beheld vast 
multitudes assembled in the Electric halls in 
every part of the land and with them I heard the 
gloriously inspired music which Lesaria was 

Alvan Huntington was the first to break the 
intense silence that filled the room. He rushed 
impulsively toward Tokalon, his handsome face 
pale, his eyes sparkling with suppressed emotion. 
His voice was deeply strained as he spoke. 

“She is out of her mind, gone mad and you are 
responsible for it.” 

Lilith answered him, “Yes, Alvan, gone mad; 
that is what you and those who think as you do, 
will say. Because you cannot understand, you 
disbelieve, and because of that disbelief, which 
is the foundation of a certain ignorance of these 
things, you condemn. You say I am mad, because 
you do not know the difference between madness 
and sanity. Well perhaps there isn’t much differ¬ 
ence for I think we are all out of poise during 
some period of our life and this may be mine— 
your period of insanity is yet to come.” 

“Oh how can you mock at me like this, Lilith ? 
I love you so much and want to take you away 
from this place!” exclaimed Alvan Huntington. 

“Ah, but I do not wish to go,” she replied half- 
teasingly, and yet over her lovely features was a 


gleam of tenderness that enhanced all the more 
the serene beauty of her countenance. 

“You could never understand me, Alvan, and 
I would not wish to make you unhappy. Here 
they understand. Just now you said I was mad 
because I had experienced something you are in¬ 
capable of comprehending or feeling. ,, 

Young Huntington's voice broke into a low, 
painful exclamation, “Lilith, come away from 
here, from this haunting, mysterious, devilish 
place. Let me take you back with me, where you 
will be well and strong again. I love you and I 
want your love. You will surely lose your reason 
if you remain here. Tell me that you will come 
with me," and he was kneeling beside her, his 
hand feverishly clasping her own, his voice 
trembling with emotion. 

“I do not love you. My life, my work is here. 
I cannot go away. Through Tokalon I have 
found the thing I have most longed to do all my 
life—to write—and here among these people I am 
happy with them and my writing. Until I met 
Tokalon I existed in a valley of shadows, fet¬ 
tered to earth, groping always in darkness. The 
world seemed so chilling and I rebelled at life. 
I was struggling for a light, a light that seemed 
to glimmer faintly in the vague distance. Then 
I met Tokalon. He has lifted me to his own 
celestial realm, inspired and taught me the wis- 


dom of the ages. There have been times when 
my intellect, free and disembodied, has risen 
realm above realm to the highest spheres, and all 
the Universe and the eternity of life has seemed 
to be mine. I have existed in impalpable air, a 
new world has opened to me. I have wandered 
with him through the realms of music, poetry, 
art, mystery. His spirit has been my companion 
and its inspiration has given me a new language, 
a language in which I have created.” 

“Then it is he you love,” cried Alvan Hunt¬ 

“But with a love that is different,” replied 
Lilith. “A universal love; all thought, all ideal, 
one dream everlasting, for he is of the Universe, 
his love is not of the individual.” 

“He holds an uncanny influence over you, 
Lilith. You are so changed, so different since 
you have been here.” 

“That is only your imagination, Alvan.” 

“Well, I do not believe in him, or anything he 

“That is not necessary,” calmly answered 
Tokalon. “But let me tell you something. Grave 
danger lies ahead, a professional conspiracy, be 
very careful with whom you deal. You are going 
to marry, however, and you will be happy enough. 
There is a brilliant future in store for you, your 
name will stand out among your f ellowmen. But, 


your later life”—Tokalon paused—“I see a dark 
cloud over you. Your life ends rather tragically. 
But think not upon this, for life will be generally 
kind to you and there are some splendid achieve¬ 
ments ahead.” 

“You say these things, but I do not believe 

“I do not ask you to. However, you will find 
that what I say will come true.” 

“We shall see,” muttered Alvan, then turning 
once more to Lilith, he asked, “Are my pleadings 
in vain? Will you not let me take you from this 
place? Do you not love me?” 

“No, Alvan, I do not love you, and I am re¬ 
maining here.” 

“Then I am leaving now. Goodbye,” and he 
pressed her hand fervently to his lips. 

“Good luck to you,” she said, as he gazed at 
her. Bidding goodbye to the others he left the 
room, the Electric City, and before long was once 
again in the outside world. 

Tokalon spoke, “He loves you, Lilith, but other 
interests will soon absorb him and help him to 

“I hope so, for I do not wish him to suffer in 
his love for me.” 

The experience of Lilith caused renewed efforts 
to be put forth in an attempt to get a tangible 


message from the inhabitants of Mars. It was an 
assured fact that music had already reached the 
planet but why was it not interpreted? 

Then the thought had been given birth that 
perhaps through this unlimited electric power 
and the power of music, the long wished for 
communication with Mars might be realized. 
Accordingly there was invented great tone mag¬ 
nifiers which instruments would control the elec¬ 
tric currents of the earth, causing these currents 
to respond very readily to the vibration of music. 
Also there was the invention of the transformers, 
which instruments were so constructed as to 
transform tone into their relative colors, and to 
transform into sound any returned message from 
the planet Mars, should there be one. 


Under the brilliant dome of the Artists* Hall, 
bathed in a myriad of colored lights, Demetra, 
beautiful daughter of the Mystic East, became 
the bride of Lesaria Vinson, world-renowned 
violinist. The entire population of the Electric 
City had assembled to pay tribute to their much 
loved artist and his bride on this the day of their 
marriage and departure from this strange, under¬ 
ground world, this city where haunting beauty 
held sway and lingering melodies softly mur¬ 
mured, where art and science, life and mystery 
was their code. It was an intense, enthusiastic, 
unique assemblage—wholesome and sincere in 
their love and praise, and anxious to bestow upon 
the young genius and his bride every hospitality 
which the quaint, weird charm of their own little 
world offered. 

This wedding was indeed, a most fitting cul¬ 
mination for the departure of the musician and 
Demetra. There was a charming dwelling situ¬ 
ated upon the crest of a sloping hill in the Cotton¬ 
wood Canyon in Salt Lake City, and to this was 
returning Lesaria Vinson and his bride. 



In this mountain abode, their bridal home, 
sheltered and protected by the great swaying pine 
trees, frowned down upon by the neighboring, 
snow-capped peaks, he was going to seek rest and 
solitude away from the world of men and women, 
with its demands and babbles. 

The loving sky and the romance of nature were 
companions enough to these two whose hearts 
were as a symphony of exquisite harmony and 
each day that passed confirmed and strengthened 
that love. They roamed about in the stillness of 
the forest, conversing with the silent things of 
the earth, and the days and nights and weeks and 
months were whiled away in an enchanted exist¬ 
ence that knew no time. 

There is no need to keep record of those happy 
days. What matters it how long they have thus 
dwelt in this lovely spot ? But an event was soon 
to take place that must be inscribed upon the 
records of time and history. 

What a thrill of unknown joy fills the heart of 
the young mother at the knowledge of her first 
born. A new soul is to come into the world to be 
guided and guarded from the cradle, to be nur¬ 
tured for a future rich with the blessings of 

The deepening mystic, purple shades of even¬ 
ing were descending over the valley. An anxious 
restlessness seized Demetra, a foreboding and 


presentiment undefinable, tortured her thoughts. 
Slipping one hand into that of her husband she 
murmured, “This solitude, this impenetrable 
stillness, awes me tonight. Let us go out into the 
deeper quiet of the evening / 9 

With a gentle tenderness, Lesaria placed his 
arm about the slight young shoulders and they 
went out into the evening glory. 

Her voice blended softly with the stillness, as 
she spoke. “Oh, how I love to listen to the sigh¬ 
ing of the trees, to the wind singing weird little 
melodies among the branches; to see the after¬ 
glow of the sunlight playing and dancing on the 
leaves; to listen to the plaintive love notes of the 
birds; to be within the shadow of the hills and 
watch the setting sun and dusk come on with its 
fantastic glory, creeping into the bewitching 
hours of night, when all the world is still, when 
one can feel the throbbing pulsation of the Uni¬ 
verse, the very essence of its life in fragrant, 
refreshing draughts invigorating the spirit, puri¬ 
fying and strengthening the mind! To look up 
into the great deep blueness of the heavens and 
watch that silvery myriad of glittering worlds 
that seem to be calling, beckoning, challenging 

And so they wandered on, hand in hand—two 
lovers these—beneath the shadows of the solemn 
trees. Evening had spread her velvet mantle of 


gold and purple over the earth and all was still 
with that throbbing stillness that comes only from 
the silence of the Infinite. 

Demetra was wrapt in deep thoughtfulness 
when suddenly she clutched the hand that held 
her own. 

“Listen, Lesaria dear, to the gentle rustling of 
the leaves, whispering to me, singing a melody 
like the soft tinkling of silvery bells, bringing a 
message from out the distant past, warning me 
of an impending disaster. This is the song: 

‘Ah, sweet maiden, so young and fair, 

We are the voices from out the air, 

Bringing, singing a warning true, 

A heart’s deep sorrow awaiting you. 

‘Wander not to the unknown abyss, 

For there lies but broken happiness, 

Ah, sweet maiden, so young and fair 
List to the voices from out the air.’ ” 

“My dear,” said Lesaria tenderly, “you are 
nervous and tired tonight. Let us go in, your 
mind is overwrought, nothing is going to hap¬ 

“Yes, yes, it is a mother’s instinct!” she cried 
brokenly. “My unborn babe—danger awaits it— 
and I am so afraid!” and her voice broke into a 
low nervous sobbing. 

Understanding with a sincere sympathy her 
condition, Lesaria lifted her into his arms and 


carried the trembling little body into the house. 
Then taking his violin he played a soft, low lulla¬ 
by and soon the wearied eyes were closed in 
slumber that was sweet and tranquil, and those 
disquieting fancies were stilled in the peace of 
deep sleep. 


Emerging from his life in the bowels of the 
earth, Kasaan had no scruples as to his ability to 
wield the whole of nature’s chain of forces for 
the gratification of his one desire, revenge. His 
heart had been hardened beyond repentance; he 
had given up his soul to Satan and by repeatedly 
yielding, his will was gradually losing its resist- 
ing power. His body had become shrunken, his 
face was haggard, the features were more dis¬ 
gustingly ugly than ever, and his fingers reached 
out in a stealthy claw-like frightfulness. Con¬ 
tinually passing from the height of hope to the 
depth of despair, waves of hysteric passion sweep¬ 
ing over him, these sudden transitions were 
accompanied by spasms of physical suffering 
which were rendering him a wreck bodily and 
mentally. Imbued with a tremendous fund of 
energy, cultivated by his life in the Electric City, 
which had been concentrated on his higher ambi¬ 
tions there, this energy was now aroused and set 
loose in a destructive riot of vengeance. 

The mystic East with its centuries’ old super¬ 
stition, splendor and romance had called to him 


and he had answered the lure of its fascination. 
A country redolent of the early passions of civ¬ 
ilization, the good and the evil: alluring with the 
glory of its desert calms and immortal silences: 
fragrant and restful with its treasures and wor¬ 
ship: the land of the student and psychic, the 
materialist and the ignorant, with its squalid 
settlements and its palaces of luxury, all were a 
part of the daily life of the Eastern World. And 
it was here that Kasaan found a fitting atmos¬ 
phere for his own evil profession. He had be¬ 
come an adept in the art of Black Magic and it 
was easy to get followers from among the ignor¬ 
ant and superstitious. 

Let us enter into the mysterious chambers over 
which he is lord and master. How completely 
apart is this atmosphere from that of the refresh¬ 
ing beauty of the Electric City! There all was 
lightness and the essence of purity: here all is 
mystery and darkness. But it seems fitting for 
him to dwell amidst this atmosphere in the secret 
dens of these evil magicians, who ply their trade 
so dexterously before the world. His own powers 
are being directed into a channel of wickedness 
and revenge, and here he can hold free reign. 

We enter a room that is deftly concealed from 
the eyes of the outside world. Its four walls are 
heavily covered with brilliantly colored fabrics. 
In each corner there is an uncanny subdued light 


emanating from curiously hidden fixtures in the 
walls. The floor is carpeted with a handsomely 
woven rug and squatting about, their arms 
folded, heads bowed, dressed in turbans and 
gowns of red satin, are a number of young “stu¬ 
dents,” meeting here to receive the magic teach¬ 
ings of Kasaan. 

A heavy drapery at the end of the room parts 
and a young boy, carrying a lighted candle before 
him, slowly enters. His movements are rhyth¬ 
mically measured; his eyes gaze steadily ahead. 
Directly following him is Kasaan, robed in a gown 
and turban of lustrous satin of a delicate yellow 
hue, tied with a red sash. Upon his entry the 
students, still seated, bow low, touching the floor 
with their hands. He takes his seat upon a plat¬ 
form before them and together they go through 
an incoherent mumbling and chanting of syllables, 
after which the lesson begins. 

About the room are various jugs and vases and 
devices for offering up sacrifices, and the soft 
burning of incense sends into the air delicate cir¬ 
cles of smoke, diffusing its languorous odor 
throughout the place. And this is the environ¬ 
ment in which this man, once capable of a great 
constructive power, seeks to dwell, crushing out 
the fineness of his soul because of the dominating 
passion for revenge, and because, too, he loves the 
abode of the devil and the things that are evil. 


His determination for revenge takes him from 
this abode to the home of Demetra in Salt Lake, 
for he knows that the protection of Tokalon is 
not so vital since her marriage. And since she is 
so absorbed in the life of her husband, stimulating 
him in his music, there will come a time when her 
intense and slight physical self will need renewed 
vitality and quite unconsciously there will come a 
receptive state when Kasaan can work his influ¬ 
ence, either upon her, or through one very near 


Mother and father look upon the first-born! 
Those anxious hours of travail, lingering hours 
within the shadows of the Unseen Valley, have 
passed, and all is a sublime calm. Opening its 
eyes into a new and mysterious world of light, 
the little stranger greets father and mother. A 
flower beginning to bloom in rare fragrance; a 
second Lesaria to nurture from the cradle, to 
mould into a life of illustrious achievement; a 
figure in the world symbolical of all that is good 
and pure and wise. These were the first and 
natural dreams of the young parents for this little 
new-born soul. 

The winged passenger of Time made record of 
each childish caprice, and a quickening intelli¬ 
gence was soon manifest in the little mind. Like 
the glimmering of a sunbeam, its presence radi¬ 
ated everywhere in the household. That holy 
bond of love was more strongly fettered by this 
golden link, and those three beings lived in a 
world of childlike beauty and expression, in the 
sublimity of this new life, their new joy. 

But ofttimes when sitting near the cradle of 


her little one, tenderly watching and caressing it, 
the young mother seemed vaguely to feel a dark¬ 
ening shadow lurking near, and instinctively she 
would fold her babe closely to her bosom as if to 
protect it from an impending danger. There 
would come to her mind the ghostlike memory of 
that evening when she heard the message in the 
sighing of the trees, and a warning fear for the 
safety of her child would tantalize her thoughts 
and she often fancied, as she listened to its croon¬ 
ing and watched its tiny hands grasping for the 
glittering sunbeams playing about the cradle, that 
she saw it snatched from out her arms and gone 
forever. But she would not allow these thoughts 
to linger in her mind and with all the will of her 
being she would crowd them out with a lullaby 
hummed over the tiny bed. 

Lesaria observed these fleeting shadows that 
now and then darkened that beautiful white brow. 
“My dear, what is it?” he asked as he stepped 
near the cradle where Demetra sat. 

“Sometimes I get so afraid, I think I am a 
great coward Lesaria.” 

He pressed his lips upon the mass of dark hair 
which fell around her head, then bent over the 
tiny face that lay laughing up at him and printed 
a delicate kiss upon the baby cheek, and a silent 
tear fell. 

In the little one’s eyes a happy light seemed to 


glisten and already they fancied a knowing intel¬ 
lect animated its being. 

“Look, there it is with its hateful countenance; 
its long, ugly fingers reaching out for my baby! 
Lesaria, save us! Save us!” cried Demetra in a 
painful half-smothered sob. 

“I see nothing Demetra dearest, you are both 
safe. It is only a mother's fear for her new¬ 

As she looked into his eyes—and they were so 
filled with love and sympathy,—she smiled and 
clasped his hand and was content and calm under 
that serene expression. 


It is night and the Evil One is near. Under 
cover of darkness he and his conspirators seek to 
do their work. A breathless, melancholy silence 
permeates the forests and in the House of Love 
all is quiet in slumber. There it stands high upon 
the hill amidst the great pine trees that like 
guarding sentinels protect it from the outside 
world and those solitary rocks on every side 
almost defy one to approach this haven. The 
silver rays of the moon are playing amidst the 
branches and throw a slanting shadow over the 
dwelling, half-concealing, half-revealing it. 

Among those trees, shadowy outlines can be 
observed, stealthily moving to and fro. Now the 
forms of three men loom up in bold relief and a 
soft gleam of light falls over them revealing their 
black masks and shrouded figures. Kasaan, the 
fiend, is at work. Revenge is his sinister motive. 
Since that day in the Electric City, when he first 
beheld Demetra he had wanted her, and an un¬ 
reasoning passion for this creature so pure and 
lovely had consumed his being and during these 
years he had waited for this malicious revenge. 



When she was near Tokalon, Kasaan was power¬ 
less to exert his evil influence. This all the more 
rankled his temper and filled him with a greater 
hatred and a stubborn determination. But now 
the spirit which Tokalon had invoked to be ever 
watchful over Demetra, could not save her off¬ 
spring from the wicked power that Kasaan had 
cultivated for years, and besides, since Demetra’s 
marriage she was under the protection of her 
husband and Tokalon had left her in that loving 
care. The Evil One became usurper of the throne 
at a moment when Tokalon’s forces were entirely 
merged in his work in the Electric City. This 
was the opportunity the ever watchful Kasaan 
had long waited for, knowing that his day would 
come sooner or later; that day when his Satanic 
power could take possession of a soul over which 
heretofore he had had no influence. Demetra’s 
child was now the object of his revenge. 

Kasaan and his men creep close to the side of 
the house and peering through the half-opened 
shutter, he sees the child as it lies wrapt in deep 
slumber. He chuckles to himself, a low wicked 
laugh, “By the heavens, revenge is now mine!” 

He whispers hoarsely to his men, “Quick, we 
must not delay! Do not waste one moment! By 
the fiends of Hell, we cannot yet be sure of our 
success! Time is valuable, make haste!” 

One of the men springs into the room, swiftly 


covers the face of the sleeping infant, and seizing 
it in his arms is at the window and out in an 
instant with his little burden. 

“Ah, good work! Good work, Narro!” mut¬ 
ters Kasaan, and their figures are instantly envel¬ 
oped within the darkness of the forest. And the 
moon and stars—those silent watchers in the 
heavens above—are all that know, in a world 
asleep, whither leads the path of those kidnappers, 
those fiends of the night, who had placed upon 
the threshold of a happy home, the grim image of 
tragedy and sorrow. . . . 

Dawn was breaking; the sun in azure glow was 
struggling above the eastern horizon. It poured 
into the room where the child had lain and in 
glittering capriciousness fell across an empty bed. 
The young mother arose and going to her little 
one’s bed found no smiling face, no tiny out¬ 
stretched arms to greet her. 

“Lesaria,” she cried, “they have stolen our 
babe!” and fell across the bed in a swoon. 

There followed many days of anxiety, of 
tender care and watchfulness on the part of 
Lesaria for his beloved Demetra. The shock and 
grief occasioned by the disappearance of their 
child had thrown the young mother into a fever 
and delirium, in which the utmost care and cau¬ 
tion had to be taken to save her life. 


Lesaria was a faithful companion at her bed¬ 
side and each day she was quieted and lulled to 
sweet peace by the magic beauty of his music. 
In time it had the wanted restful effect and at 
last the suffering soul became more tranquil, the 
fever abated and a new light shone from the eyes 
of Demetra, and into the worn, suffering face of 
Lesaria came a more hopeful light. 

Once as he was playing a soft melody to her, 
she looked up at him and a faint sweet smile 
wreathed the pale face. “Lesaria your music 
seems to come from far away. It is so delicate, 
so exquisite, and oh so painful—my baby, my 
baby!” and she lapsed once more into a state of 
semi-consciousness. Lesaria pressed the fevered 
brow with his hands and the cool touch aroused 

“The heavy weight upon my temples seems to 
have rolled away—my head feels cooler—and— 
let me hold your hand Lesaria,” and as he clasped 
her hand within his own he bent low and kissed 
her lips. 

“We must go away from here when you are 
well my dear. We will go back to the music and 
the people.” 

“Ah yes, to the music and the people and our 
baby,” she said softly—“we must find our baby.” 
A low sob filled her throat, and Lesaria struggled 
to keep back the sobs that were breaking his own 


“Ah! young mother, let not your sorrow weigh 
too heavily upon you. Live in the glory and the 
love of your husband; you his inspiration, the 
soul of his violin. Grieve not too deeply for the 
lost child.” 

Three years had elapsed since Lesaria Vinson 
and his bride had retired to that haven of love 
and peace where sorrow lurked in tragic mockery 
upon the threshold. And now that unwelcome 
guest had bid them come forth from this abode 
where love and happiness had held sway, and the 
eyes of the world were once more upon this 
famous artist. Too long already had the golden 
strings of his violin, the magic sweetness and 
pathos of his touch been stilled, and a fervent 
reception was awaiting his reappearance before 
the public. 

It was a tragic struggle for the young mother 
to become reconciled to the mysterious disappear¬ 
ance of her baby, and there were times when she 
was almost overwhelmed by her deep grieving 
and felt she was being drawn relentlessly into 
that undercurrent where reason becomes shat- 


tered. Her husband needed her; she was such a 
vital part of his music that she must be brave and 
live on for him. 

As the days passed away, strange moods and 
restless yearnings found an abode within her 
being. Long hours were spent in reflection, in 
listless meditation. Something so vital, so neces¬ 
sary to her own self-existence, seemed to have 
passed out in the months following her little one’s 
disappearance. Vague, intangible fancies and 
fears crowded into her mind. She had been the 
one on whom her husband had drawn for his 
inspiration, and it was that inspiration that had 
given the divine spark to his wondrous music, but 
strangely enough this no longer satisfied her. 

Up to the time of the loss of her baby she had 
been content in the love of her husband and his 
music, and their baby had added a new joy, a 
new interest to their love. But that desire for 
the accomplishment of creative work, what did it 
mean? Surely her life had been wondrously 
happy and full of achievement with Lesaria, why 
was she so discontented now? What were these 
strange, unknown yearnings ? 

The opening concert took them to a popular 
South American city, the rendezvous of the elite, 
the critical, the artistic, of that continent. A city 
of wealth, luxury and extravagance, its patrons 
could afford to indulge in their every whim and 


the art of the genius was deeply appreciated and 
only the best was accepted. 

It was the afternoon of the day before the con¬ 
cert. Demetra and Lesaria had gone for a drive 
to one of the famous art galleries. The day was 
pleasant, the air was filled with the song of birds, 
the fragrance of the early springtime. Demetra 
was happier today than she had been for many 
weeks and this gave a brighter glow to her face, 
and filled her husband with more of happiness, 

They entered the gallery and after passing 
through several halls, Demetra lingered before an 
exquisite canvas while Lesaria was engaged in 
conversation with a fellow artist, at the further 
end of the hall. She was wrapt in admiration of 
this masterpiece, entitled “Darkness and Light.” 
In the background the shadow of the slight emaci¬ 
ated figure of a girl was outlined against a sky 
of blackness. Her arms were outstretched and a 
look of pain and sorrow was on the wan features. 
In the foreground was a maiden, beautiful, sup¬ 
ple, strong. Her head was thrown back in an 
attitude of freedom; her arms reached heaven¬ 
ward toward a light breaking through the rift of 
purple clouds, and the outline of the slender 
young body was rapturously alive with a spiritual 
hope of understanding and peace. 

Demetra did not hear a voice beside her, and it 


was not until Kasaan gently touched her hand 
that she realized someone was near her. She 
looked up and met his quiet, compelling gaze. 

He was the first to speak. “You admire that 
painting ?” 

“Yes, it reveals to me so much of truth, it seems 
almost to speak to one it is so vibrant with life. ,, 

“I am acquainted with the artist/’ he con¬ 
tinued. “He is indeed a master painter, a great 
and highly developed soul.” 

She was silent for a moment, then turning from 
the canvas, “But you—how is it we have met 
here, like this ?” 

“You may remember I told you we would meet 
again at a time when you needed me—that day 
has come. It is here—now—you do need me,” 
and he held the half-frightened inquiry of her 
eyes within the dark, penetrating glow of his own 
steady gaze. 

“What do you mean,” she half-murmured, 
drawing away from him. “I do not understand.” 

“But you will—later,” he said kindly, coldly, 
emphatically. “Oh, by the way, I am attending 
the concert to be given by your husband tomor¬ 
row evening. We shall meet there again.” 

He bowed graciously and was gone, leaving 
Demetra gazing after his awkward, angular 
form, a perplexed and puzzling look upon her 
countenance, scarcely able to comprehend all that 


he had so strangely and prophetically uttered. 
There was an assurance about his manner, his 
attitude, that frightened her, that repelled her, 
yet drew her near to him. She did not know 
what it was that awakened the desire to follow 
him. She feared and hated him, and it was this 
fear and hate that unwittingly made her his 

Strange to say, he had aroused her desire to 
return to her writing. This desire was some¬ 
thing that had been lost since her first meeting 
with Lesaria when she had become completely 
absorbed in him and his music. Kasaan suddenly 
had seemed to satisfy her yearnings, to fill the 
place in her life that had been occupied by Lilith, 
when in their meeting in Cairo, Lilith, perceiving 
the restlessness of her nature, had so successfully 
stimulated her in the highest art, that of creative 
writing. In that moment just gone when Kasaan 
had left her standing there in bewilderment, a 
whole new world seemed to open to her. She 
could see her father’s unfinished work and seemed 
to hear him call to her to begin where he had left 
off. She knew that she needed Kasaan, just as 
he said she would. Her whole being revolted 
against this thought, yet she was helpless to over¬ 
come the strange power he seemed to have 
wielded. This was the first time they had met 
since the day of his departure from the Electric 


City. She was not in love with him, and never 
had been, yet why this sudden peculiar conflict of 
emotions ? 

The evil Kasaan knew now he was gaining the 
master hand over Demetra. His early knowledge 
of the fundamental principles of life, a knowledge 
that came to him in a stage of a higher develop¬ 
ment, he was now using for his own selfish gains, 
and this evil selfishness was the first principle of 
black magic by which he worked. 

His activities for the past few years had been 
directed on a low plane and he had stolen Deme- 
tra’s child knowing through its loss he would 
have control of her because in her agonized grief 
there would be an intensified yearning for moth¬ 
erhood, which must manifest itself in the higher 
realms of creation, and in this higher realm he 
could stimulate her writing, thereby hoping to 
keep his influence over her always* 


Sought after by the courts of the world, idol¬ 
ized by humanity, worshipped alike for his good¬ 
ness and genius, the reappearance of Lesaria 
Vinson, world renowned violinist, had been her¬ 
alded around the continent. The people were 
eager to greet again their idol of the violin. His 
music had been declared by all to be something 
different. He had struck a new note in the mas¬ 
tership of that instrument, which others had 
endeavored also to produce. He had many imi¬ 
tators, but his music, once heard, lingered forever 
in the memory. 

For tonight's recital, the first he had given 
since his marriage three years ago, an audience 
of twenty thousand people had assembled, expec¬ 
tant, enthusiastic. But in the vast multitude was 
one person whose presence had the power to 
inspire or shatter the performance, and that per¬ 
son was Kasaan. 

Mrs. Vinson and Demetra were seated very 
near the platform; Kasaan, as yet unobserved by 
them, sat just opposite. The violinist came on the 
stage; there was a thunderous applause, then 


silence as he raised his bow to the strings. For 
that one instant Demetra seemed to grasp life 
with tense finger tips. As he began to play her 
whole body vibrated to that something high and 
elusive in his playing. The violin in his hands 
was like a thing of life, breathing, pulsating, 
throbbing, as the strings quivered delicately under 
his highly sensitive touch. 

As he continued playing, Demetra was con¬ 
scious of a powerful influence near her. Quite 
involuntarily she turned her head and was held 
by the keen steady gaze of Kasaan. There was a 
singular radiance about his ugly features that 
almost made him seem handsome. An inexpli¬ 
cable thrill shot through her being. Her hus¬ 
band had finished his number and the entire house 
was shouting, waving, calling to him. Kasaan 
took advantage of this moment and approached 

“He is playing unusually well tonight. His 
soul thrills with his music and his hearers have 
caught his mood/’ 

Demetra was so delighted with the reception 
the audience had given her husband, that she did 
not observe the quiet, contemplative demeanor 
with which Kasaan spoke. 

“Yes,” she replied, “it is wonderful, very won¬ 
derful, and oh! it makes me so happy to see how 
they still love him and the music he gives them.” 


The next number was played with a tragic fire 
as if some impending disaster were near at hand. 
The low somber notes carried a foreboding mes¬ 
sage to Demetra; a thrill of pain shot through her. 
Now he swept into an allegro of triumphant vic¬ 
tory, then surrendered to a melodious passage of 
such delicacy that it was like the falling of a tear 
upon a withering rose. The audience was held in 
an enchanted silence. This was their manner of 
demonstrating that they, too, had caught the mes¬ 
sage of the music. Their intense silence broke at 
length. Women sobbed and men were seen to 
wipe their eyes. The musician seemed to be 
struggling with an unknown foe who was trying 
to conquer him, and this gave to his playing an 
abandon, a breadth of passion, so electrifying 
that it had swept his hearers from their feet for 
that one brief moment. They were reluctant to 
let him go when his program for the evening was 
finished and insisted upon more music, which he 
gave to them with the same fervor and power of 

It was past midnight when Lesaria and Deme¬ 
tra were at last alone. She observed that he 
appeared troubled. 

Slipping near him and placing one arm about 
his shoulders, she said, “You were such a won¬ 
derful success tonight! The strings of your violin 
were the strings of your heart! I felt that! And 


yet Lesaria, there was something about your play¬ 
ing that I have never before heard. You seemed 
to be struggling against an unseen enemy, and I 
too, was struggling with you—yet somehow it 
held me fast.” 

He looked at her quickly. “Did you feel that 
too? There was some strange vibration, some 
influence, in that hall that was trying to over¬ 
whelm me and I was instinctively opposing it.” 

Like a thunderbolt, a revelation came to De- 
metra. She was silent for a moment. Then as 
if musing or contemplating, she said half to her¬ 
self and half aloud, “I wonder—I wonder.” 

Then turning to Lesaria, “Kasaan was present 
to night. You know he is a sinister mortal; 
powerful in his way and very jealous of you. 
Could it be that he is using his influence against 
us ?” And back in her mind burned those words 
he had uttered in the art gallery the day before. 

“And he was there? I did not know that. I 
wonder—and yet why should he attempt to de¬ 
stroy our happiness and our music?” 

Demetra made no answer. Her eyes were 
closed as if to shut out that image and the 
thoughts that perplexed her mind. But somehow 
she felt that Kasaan had a mocking motive in his 
presence at the concert. 


What was that awful fear, that vague terror 
that filled the mind of Demetra? And Kasaan, 
why was he ever in her thoughts, in her dreams 
at night ? His ugly face was ever near; his black 
eyes leered upon her; his clawlike fingers hovered 
above her head as if waiting to clutch her in their 
grasp. Awakening in the light of day, startled 
and afraid, she would glance nervously about the 
room, expecting to see this phantom of her 
dreams. But how contradictory were her 
thoughts! There were moments when she really 
wanted to be with him. Possessing none of the 
finer qualities of her husband, directly a contrast 
in temperament, in mental and physical organiza¬ 
tion, she was strangely attracted to this coarse, 
soulless man who had wilfully set about to wreak 
vengeance upon her and her loved ones. His 
influence was a diabolical power which found a 
strange response in her sensitive being; some¬ 
thing she could not yet comprehend. 

Her love for her husband was changing—of 
that she was certain—and yet she could not un¬ 
derstand her feelings toward the one who had 



loved her so truly, and whom she had loved truly 
in return. 

Lesaria was conscious of her strangely changed 
attitude, and perplexed and anxious, yet he was at 
all times most tender and devoted. Demetra was 
seated one day at the piano, softly playing, 
Lesaria near her, when Kasaan was announced. 
Her fingers suddenly slipped from the keyboard 
and with a quick nervous movement she was at 
the door as he entered. He took her hand and 
kissed it graciously as she welcomed him with 
evident pleasure. As Lesaria noticed her vivacity 
of manner as compared with her former quiet 
attitude toward him, a pang of unutterable jeal¬ 
ousy welled in his heart. He thought he detected 
in their glances, a mutual warmth of feeling. 
Why had she so suddenly changed when Kasaan 
entered the room? What was between them? 
Could it be that she was in love with him? No, 
no, impossible! These were the thoughts that 
stung him and he hated himself for them. Why 
should he be suspicious of his wife and jealous of 
this man? Was it his anxiety concerning her 
happiness that intensified his imagination? With 
all the strength of his will he endeavored to sweep 
those thoughts from his mind. 

“The people are still clamoring for your music, 
Mr. Vinson. That first concert is their chief 
topic of conversation. Your name is on all lips. 


When are we to be honored by a second such 
artistic event ?” There was something almost 
triumphantly malicious in the peculiar sardonic 
smile of Kasaan as he spoke. 

“I am delighted they were so well pleased, but 
I cannot say when I shall make another appear- 
ance,” coolly answered Lesaria. 

“But it will be soon, I trust,” urged Kasaan. 
“Such an artist should not long remain silent. 
The world has need of your music.” 

“I have need of something more!” suddenly 
cried Lesaria, and his eyes flashed as they riveted 
their keen gaze upon Kasaan. “My wife”—and 
he turned a tender glance toward Demetra—“and 
our lost child.” Kasaan winced and cast a fur¬ 
tive, guilty glance about the room. 

“What do you mean?” he asked evasively. 
“You have them here.” 

“Yes, I have my wife here, but some fiend has 
possession of her mind.” Lesaria moved toward 
him, looking squarely into his face and Kasaan 
endeavored to avert that penetrating gaze. “And 
our baby has been kidnapped,” continued Lesaria, 
still keenly watching Kasaan. 

“I do not understand you,” exclaimed Kasaan 
in mock surprise. 

Demetra interrupted at this point. “There is 
no need for you to understand, Kasaan. Come 


let us go out among the flowers, the butterflies, 
into the soft, fragrant air.” 

This sudden reply and gayety of manner in 
Demetra puzzled and surprised Lesaria all the 
more, but the three left the room. 

Out among the flowers, Kasaan and Demetra 
lingered over some of especial beauty which 
Kasaan apparently admired. Taking advantage 
of the opportunity of being alone with Demetra 
he said, “Demetra, you must fly with me soon! I 
am mad about you! I love you!” and he closed 
his long, fascinating ugly fingers over her deli¬ 
cate, white hand, and looked intently at her with 
those eyes that had so often repelled, yet attracted 

“But, I am so afraid. No, no, I cannot leave 
Lesaria,” Demetra exclaimed in a low hoarse 

“You must!” he replied firmly, and the bony 
fingers tightened their clasp over her small hand. 
His eyes darkened, “Your writing, what of that? 
The unfinished book of your father's. You must 
complete it! You owe it to him, and you need 

“The unfinished book! yes, yes! I must write! 
I must write! I will go with you!” 

Kasaan had gained his point. Demetra was 
lost in his overwhelming influence. About the 


corners of his mouth played that smile so cruel, so 

That same evening, the distracted husband 
found this parting message, hurriedly written: 

“Forgive me, Lesaria, and farewell forever. I must 
be as one dead to you in the future. Please do not 
endeavor to find me. Again I ask you to forgive and 
forget. Goodbye. 


“My God! My fears were only too true! 
Demetra come back to me! And may God curse 
the fiend Kasaan!” cried Lesaria in a wail of 


“Throughout the Universe I send my cry, 
‘Demetra, hear me, come back to me V No space 
so impenetrable as to hide you from me; no void 
so dark as to keep your shining presence from my 
eyes! I will search the heavens above, the earth 
below, until I find you! Oh, you knew not what 
you were doing! When I read your note last 
night every fibre of my being was torn with 
anguish, with torturing jealousy; but I know you 
did not mean to make me suffer like this, you did 
not know what you were doing! My sweetheart, 
my wife, the soul of my violin, the very essence 
of my existence! Your love, like a rich, rare 
flower, has strewn its fragrance, its ever chang¬ 
ing beauty through my life. Demetra dearest, my 
love and my faith in you are unshaken. This man 
has fascinated you with his evil power. You do 
not love him. Your highly attuned sensitiveness, 
your delicate and finely cultivated spirit, he can 
never understand or appreciate. Within my 
heart is a vision of you in all your exquisite purity 
and beauty. It exists as a vivid, living conscious¬ 
ness. I know you will yet return to me. Until 


that day, my violin strings are silenced and the 
world shall hear only my cry for you. That is 
the music I will give them—the music that is 
breaking my heart.” And this was the cry that 
went up from the heart of Lesaria Vinson. 

Ah, Love, supreme mover of the Universe, 
how many are the tragedies, the broken lives, the 
glorious creations, that are recorded within thy 
category! How many are the names by which 
thou art known and called by mortal! 

A union of immortal birth, was the love of 
Lesaria and Demetra. Perhaps it had been too 
perfect a love between two imperfect beings, and 
at a most unsuspecting moment, an ugly weed 
had thrust its roots into the love garden where 
only perfection seemed to exist. 

When Demetra first met Lilith in Cairo, she 
had been ambitious to go on with the writings of 
her father, to finish where he had left ofif, and in 
Lilith she found a source of inspiration, for 
polarity is a matter of relationship and Lilith, 
receiving inspiration and stimulation from Toka- 
lon, easily became the positive pole to the intense 
Demetra. Then came that first meeting with 
Lesaria when she found how necessary she was 
to him and to his music and there awakened a 
great love in both their hearts. To the greater 
intensity of his nature she was a gratifying 
source of inspiration, and all desire to pursue her 


writing vanished until Kasaan, with his under¬ 
standing of certain fundamental principles, came 
into her life determined to stimulate her desire 
for writing, and so hold her within his evil 

Tokalon, occupied as he was with his work in 
the Electric City, had not kept so careful a watch 
over Demetra, knowing that she was safe and 
very happy in the keeping of her husband. 

And Lesaria, in the anguish of his sorrow, did 
not think to call upon Tokalon. Had he done so, 
he might have been spared much suffering. 
Traveling over the face of the earth day by day, 
at times he would grasp a faint clue as to the 
whereabouts of Demetra and Kasaan, then as if 
by some trick of Fate, he would just miss them 
and they were lost to him again. 

The long, weary days lengthened into months, 
the months into years, and Lesaria Vinson, the 
brilliant genius, became a broken wreck of 

Added to his burden of grief, came the sudden 
death of his mother. “Alone, alone, alone!” he 
wailed almost incessantly as he kept daily on in 
his wandering over the world. At last, after 
seven weary years, poverty and sickness forced 
him to return in utter hopelessness and despair to 
the little home in the mountains. He was alone, 
broken-hearted, disillusioned! 


Demetra, once more in Cairo, the place of her 
birth, was thrilled with the beauty and sadness of 
her childhood memories. To find herself again in 
this city of magic lore and living over the scenes 
of her early days, filled her heart with pleasure 
and pain. Here Tokalon and Lilith had come into 
her life. Here amidst the majestic serenity of 
the immortal sphinx and pyramids, the awful 
calm of the great desert, and the turbulent yet 
passive beauty of the Nile, she had been welcomed 
and nurtured and loved. 

How strangely unlike the days of her child¬ 
hood were these latter days as they slowly, yet 
swiftly, rolled away upon the wheels of unfor- 
getable time. Seven years had passed since she 
had gone away with Kasaan. She had counted 
those years by the days, weeks, months and at 
times the very hours! 

The unfinished book of her father’s had been 
completed and in addition she had written two 
more under the stimulation of Kasaan. They 
were the fruits of their years of association. But 
oh, how dearly she had paid! His sinister influ- 


ence over her; the stimulation she had received 
from him during these years, had burned itself 
out. Never before in all this time had she felt so 
greatly the mighty love she had for Lesaria, until 
today. Her heart and soul were crying out to 
him, yet she could not return to him now. But if 
only she might find their baby and return it 
secretly to him that his life might be happier in 
its love and life! She had deserted him in a 
moment of unreasoning emotion and the thought 
of her act haunted her day and night. 

She felt strangely unhappy and ill at ease as 
she stood by the window and watched the sun 
sinking over the distant hills, and afar off the 
dim outline of a pyramid was thrown into fan¬ 
tastic relief by the setting sun. Dusk was fast 
spreading over the land and the evening star 
twinkled brightly and alone in the blue heavens. 
Watching it, she was fascinated by its own lone¬ 
liness in that vast space, and she murmured to 
herself, "In the silence of yon distant star my 
fate is read. 

"Ah! Lesaria! Tokalon! Forgive me, forgive 
me, forgive me! Why did I go away with 
Kasaan ? I am so utterly alone and unhappy and 
I despise him!” 

Just then she heard sweet music. As an ex¬ 
quisite perfume is wafted from the breath of the 
flowers by the gentle breezes, so was the breath 


of this music wafted to her ears. Its silvery 
strains were like the song of some nebulous spirit 
of the night, sitting upon the edge of yonder 
drifting cloud. The tones so elusive, so full of 
consolation and unrest filling her soul with a rare 
peace, mingled with a throb of pain. She hung 
eagerly upon each delicate note as it ebbed away 
in the distance, leaving a parting message of 
fanciful wonder and happiness, yet pulsating with 
agonized heart throbs. 

Like one suddenly awakened from an enchanted 
spell, she cried out, “Lesaria, Lesaria, I have 
heard your music! I know you are near me, you 
have not forgotten!” 

At this moment Kasaan entered the room and 
went toward her. Involuntarily she shuddered 
and drew back from him. 

“So!” he cried with a sneer of half-concealed 
contempt. “You are crying for your husband, 
that wretched violinist who took you from me! 
I have tried to be kind to you, for I loved you— 
loved you madly. At times I felt that the spirit 
within you could arouse the best that was in me; 
but your aloofness, your hatred of me from the 
first moment we met in the Electric City, made 
me the more determined to have you at all costs, 
and I have had you these seven years. I have 
loved you my way, which has been a way of ven¬ 
geance. Through the maddening love I had for 


you many years ago, I lost the one who really 
loved me, but now my revenge is complete and 
you are mine and have been even though you hate 
me with a hatred beyond human power. You are 
mine, I say; you and his child belong to me!” 

At these words, Demetra staggered toward 
him. Her eyes glistened like fire and the expres¬ 
sion of her face was transformed into a wild 

“My child! My child!” she screamed. “You, 
you—have my child! Oh, how I hate you! I 
hate you!” she cried in her uncontrollable passion. 

Then with a swift motion her long, delicate 
fingers buried themselves deeply in Kasaan’s 
throat. In her sudden frenzy, unlimited strength 
had come to her. 

“Tell me where my baby is!” she demanded 
hoarsely as her grip closed more tightly. 

Kasaan, struggling to free himself from her 
death-like grasp, with a quick subtle movement 
unclasped the fingers that held him. Her 
strength had given way and now his own thin, 
ugly fingers clenched her wrists painfully. 

“Curse you!” he cried fiercely. “You shall pay 
for this!” 

A menacing expression came into his eyes. 
But Demetra did not hear his words for her body 
had crumpled at his feet. He looked down upon 
the silent form for an instant, then, moving 


toward the door, touched a tiny button. A stolid¬ 
faced servant appeared. Kasaan motioned to the 
still form, his voice was husky, yet penetrating: 

“Take her to the secret room of our Order in 
Black Magic Alley. You know the place to which 
I refer. Do not let anyone see you and be quick 
in this work. She will not awaken until you have 
her safely concealed in the room, so there will be 
no trouble to expect from her. ,, 

The servant nodded, lifted the body of Demetra 
into his arms and with his burden quickly and 
quietly disappeared. Kasaan put his hand to his 
throat. It pained him and the prints of Deme- 
tra’s fingers were deeply imbedded within the 
flesh. He paced about the room nervously and 
awkwardly, placing first one hand upon his 
throat, then the other, as if endeavoring to ease 
the pain, and at the same time to solve some intri¬ 
cate problem. Then as if the answer had sud¬ 
denly come to him, he whirled about and left the 

He was afraid now, for he had been beaten at 
last. And the one whom he feared was Tokalon; 
for while Demetra had been with him, and by 
him stimulated for her writing, she had not called 
to Tokalon, of that Kasaan had been certain. 
But he was powerless now, because he could no 
longer stimulate her creative nature. And in the 
moment she had turned on him, Tokalon in the 


Electric City had received her message of suffer¬ 
ing and would hasten to her side. Kasaan trem¬ 
bled at the thought of his own utter weakness and 
helplessness and the results which were destined 
to follow. 


“Tokalon,” “Lesaria,” those names distinctly 
spoken and impregnated with profound meaning, 
aroused Tokalon from an absorbing reverie. It 
was the voice of Demetra, distinctly audible in the 
deep hush of the room. 

Tokalon stirred slightly. “Yes, yes,” he mur¬ 
mured. “I know all,” and his voice continued in 
a low soliloquy, “You are very near me, Demetra; 
the throbbing of your presence fills the room and 
the warmth of your breath is upon my cheek. I 
have not yet learned the exact location of your 
abode, neither have I found Kasaan, but before 
the stars again appear in the evening heavens, 
you will be under my roof and Kasaan will have 
paid for this evil. Yes, paid many times over and 
the Universe will ring with his wails, with the 
suffering he has brought upon himself.” 

As he uttered these words, Tokalon felt the 
sensitive vibrations of Demetra’s presence, and 
in the awful stillness that followed, a vaporous 
cloud ascended into the air, revealing the shadowy 
figure of Demetra moving slowly about him. 

A slight chill shook Tokalon and he paced in 


measured tread about the room, lost in deep con¬ 
centration. Suddenly a sharp, clear voice rang 
out upon the air. It seemed to come from the 
surrounding space. Tokalon stopped, strangely 
alert, as if quickly awakened. 

“Demetra,” he whispered, and as if an impene¬ 
trable curtain had been drawn aside, the revela¬ 
tion came to him of Demetra’s whereabouts, and 
also of the abode of Kasaan. Like a potent beam 
of light had this message come to him and in it 
he recognized that at last the evil spell of Kasaan 
was broken, and that his own power had tri¬ 
umphed over Kasaan’s black magic, because after 
all these years Demetra had herself called for 
Tokalon, and Kasaan’s influence ceased. 

Tokalon hurried out upon the streets, past the 
swaying throngs of people with but one purpose 
in view. Soon his steps led him beyond the 
crowded drives, the swelling throngs of humanity. 
A long narrow street lay before him. He knew 
it well. It was the district known as Black Magic- 
or-Haunted Alley. This was the rendezvous of 
the Secret Society of Black Magic, as it was 
called. Away from the prying eyes of the out¬ 
side world, these people cultivated their weird, 
evil lore in their secret chambers, unmolested and 
obscure. Many wild stories went afloat about the 
magicians and their street—stories of mysterious 
crimes, the disappearance of all who entered 


there. So it had soon become known as a haunted 

Tokalon made his way among the low-roofed 
buildings, scarcely glancing either to right or left, 
so deeply absorbed was he in reaching his des¬ 
tination. Suddenly a low wail reached his ears. 
Turning he saw a young lad staggering help¬ 
lessly, keeping close to the buildings. Tokalon 
clutched his hand. 

“Why, you are blind! What are you doing 
here?” he asked in a low tone. They were 
directly in front of the abode of Kasaan. 

“He has taken away my eyesight,” wailed the 
youth, who appeared to be but about eighteen 
years of age. 

“More of his fiendish work,” muttered Tokalon. 
“Come, tell me how this all happened.” 

Slowly and brokenly the youth related his 
pitiful story. 

“For months I was a pupil of Kasaan’s. Then 
I began to realize the tremendous evil of his 
teachings, the work of destruction he was doing, 
and constant rebellion burned within me. I did 
not wish to learn his wicked ways and revolted 
against his secret cult of black magic. This 
infuriated him into unreasoning hatred and 

“He had me put into a secret room, shut out 
from all light, from all communication with any- 


one save one of his men who brought me food 
each day. Then I began to realize that my vision 
was slowly darkening. I felt Kasaan’s awful 
influence always surrounding me and something 
like a slow poison surging through my being. 
Today he came to me and with a mocking bitter 
sneer said, ‘Well, you can go out into the world 
and find the light of a holier cult than our own; 
one that will teach you to be good and pious and 
loving to all mankind/ and his hateful voice rang 
out with contemptible blasphemy. 

“He took me from that black and dreadful hell 
and I then knew I was blind. A dark gloom 
covers my heart and darker still is the awful 
gloom that obscures the light of the world from 
my eyes. Life means nothing now to me and I 
do not wish longer to live." 

Tokalon, deep in thought looked steadily at 
him, then he placed his hands gently upon the 
young man's eyes. The latter uttered a thrill of 

“Oh, your touch makes me feel so much better. 
Already it seems as though I were beginning to 
see the light of day, the real world," and over the 
pitiful agony of his face there spread a smile of 

“You are beginning to see the light," answered 
Tokalon, slowly. “I can restore your eyesight if 


you will remain with me for a few weeks, so that 
I may give you constant attention.” 

“Oh, gladly, gladly, will I do anything you ask! 
Your slightest touch thrills me with a new life 
and gives me a divine faith in you.” There was 
something supremely touching in the pathetic 
appeal of this young man as he looked upon the 
Master Tokalon. 

“Come, I have a further work awaiting me 
before we return to my dwelling,” and Tokalon 
took the young man by the hand and together 
they pursued their way. 

At an abrupt angle at the end of the street, 
Tokalon stopped for an instant, glanced about 
him, turned into a sharp passageway and in 
another moment was entering a concealed door 
that led into the room where Demetra was held 
prisoner. Once inside there was nothing that 
gave evidence of any life whatsoever. The room 
with its heavy, dark furnishings was oppressive. 
Tokalon moved slowly as if examining it care¬ 
fully. At one end of the room he drew aside the 
heavy folds of a curtain and within, upon a bed 
lay the still form of Demetra. Tokalon paused— 
she had not seen him enter but an audible message 
came to his ears from the figure that lay so 

“Tokalon, you are here,” he heard her murmur. 


“Yes,” he softly replied, going toward the bed, 
“I am here.” 

Somewhat startled at the sound of his voice, 
Demetra turned quickly. 

“Tokalon, Tokalon,” she cried, “is it really 
you ? Oh, I think I must have been dreaming for 
I imagined I saw you standing beside me and I 
was afraid I would awaken to find it only an 

A deathly pallor concealed the delicate beauty 
of her face; her eyes were dark and heavy and 
shone with that peculiar luster that comes only 
from intense suffering. 

“I have waited so long for you, Tokalon dear— 
so long—the days have been so dreary and pain¬ 
ful, yet I knew you would find me and take me 
away with you. But Lesaria, where is he—and 
the baby ?” and Demetra’s voice died away and a 
languor that came from weakness and a depleted 
vitality settled upon her. 

Tokalon placed his hands upon the pale brow. 
“Yes, I am taking you away.” His soothing 
touch aroused Demetra. He lifted her into his 
arms and carried her from that room. 

Once more out upon the street, this suffering 
burden of humanity safe within his strong arms, 
he entered an aerocar standing near. His faith¬ 
ful pilot had been carefully instructed as to the 
time and place of meeting and was there at the 


exact moment ready for his master. In the car, 
also, was the blind youth and in another instant 
these three were soaring high into the air, far 
beyond the “Haunted Street” with its luring evil, 
its dark tragedy, its pitiful and wretched victims. 


Despised, scorned, dreaded—alone among his 
very people, Kasaan, the evil doer, the agent of 
the devil, was now a pitiless wreck of humanity. 
His deeds of destruction had reacted upon him¬ 
self with horrible results. At the moment in 
which his wicked influence had been broken by 
Tokalon, he had been transformed into a most 
hideous creature. 

His limbs were bent and crippled, his move¬ 
ments were painfully slow as he literally dragged 
his twisted body from one place to another. The 
expression of his eyes was that of a haunted and 
beaten animal; the cheeks were hollow, the cheek¬ 
bones accentuated and projecting, the skin drawn 
and pallid. A disdainful curve was about the 
mouth, the corners turned down as if to repress 
a smile of bitterness that played about the lips. 
The long, ugly hands repelled by their uncanny, 
clawlike leanness, as they nervously twitched and 

Not through any will of the Master Tokalon, 
had this punishment been inflicted upon Kasaan, 
but because he had perverted the psychic gift 


with which his early life had been endowed, and 
had brought destruction upon others. Tokalon’s 
great love for humanity became a barrier to 
Kasaan’s evil work which, like a mirror reflected 
back his evil intent. 

As Kasaan lay upon his cot, brooding over his 
misery, he was suddenly aware of a presence in 
the room. Glancing up, he saw standing in the 
doorway a familiar figure. Yet, could it be pos¬ 
sible, he asked himself as he peered at the face in 
the dimly lighted room. Were his eyes deceiving 

“Kasaan, I have come back to you,” and the 
figure drew closer. 

“You, Layna,” he muttered, “can it be pos¬ 
sible ? But no, you cannot come to me now. It is 
too late, my life is over. Look at me, see what a 
wretched victim I am,” he cried out in anguish. 

Layna dropped her head, tears were in her 
eyes. “That is why I am here now, because we 
need each other. It is not too late.” Her voice 
was broken by a low sobbing. 

Kasaan dragged himself near her and, placing 
those clawlike fingers under her chin slowly 
raised her head until her eyes met his own. For 
a moment he did not speak, but gazed at her face 
with questioning astonishment. 

“There is still some of the beauty left in your 
face, yet how different you are.” He seemed to 


be keenly analyzing every feature, every line. 
“But the glow that once shone in your eyes is 
gone and in its stead is an evasive, painful glare. 
The skin once so soft and fine is pale and heavily 
lined. But there still remains about the corners 
of your mouth, a trace of that inevitable, tanta¬ 
lizing smile. The once gay spirits have given way 
to a dull, listless despondency. In the turmoil of 
life, with its despair and destructiveness, your 
youth, like mine, has languished. But in spite of 
these changes, there is still some of the old loveli¬ 
ness blooming beneath. I can see that too.” 

In a tone of mocking contempt, Layna replied, 
“Still the worship of only that which was physical 
beauty in me, only that and nothing more. Even 
after all these years, and all these changes, is 
there nothing more?” 

“Yes, Layna, I realized when it was too late, 
what I had missed when I lost you. Under your 
mask of perfect physical beauty, I had failed to 
comprehend the spiritual self that was struggling 
to come to light and it was I who would not let 
it shine forth in all its radiant glory. That long 
ago day in the studio when you told me of the 
struggle of that spiritual love for recognition I 
wondered why I had not seen it before, but I was 
enmeshed in the fetters of your physical beauty 
and when my rude awakening came it was too 


late, for you were lost to me and I to you and 
we are both still lost to one another.” 

“But I want you to know, Kasaan, that I have 
suffered. I have paid and I have repented for 
the destruction I have wrought since that day 
and now I can offer you only the remnants of 
that love I took away in my moment of jealousy 
and hatred.” She laid her hand in his, but he 
shrank back. 

“No, Layna, no, it can never be. Never can 
the love of our youth return. I have buried that 
in the mire of my evil, never to be resurrected, 
and for that shattered love and the revenge I 
sought, I too have paid. Look at me and you will 
see the horrible truth.” 

“And, we were not capable at the time to under¬ 
stand the situation and so, each trying to revenge, 
wrought destruction upon ourselves and others. 
Instead of beautifying we have destroyed our 
souls and bodies.” 

Kasaan sat gloomily gazing into space, appar¬ 
ently absorbed in his own thoughts and unheeding 
the words of Layna. 

“See, it comes upon me again!” he shrieked. 

“What, what is it?” quickly demanded Layna, 
straining her eyes. 

“The thing of evil, with its hateful eyes, its 
sickly countenance, its hideous form, it pursues 
me relentlessly. My blood becomes frozen under 


its accursed gaze. See with what mockery it 
points an accusing finger at me! Night and day, 
this awful spectre haunts my thoughts and like 
a raving madman I shriek out to it to leave me, 
but it cowers ever by my side, like a thing of life, 
with its burning glare of hatred and vengeance!” 
and Kasaan’s voice rang out weirdly in his terror. 
His whole frame was shuddering, his brow was 
wet, his lips were parched and dry. 

Layna approached and placed her hand upon 
his moistened brow. 

“It is the image of your other self that you see 
Kasaan, your evil self, and it can never be dis¬ 
armed except through death. I beg of you, allow 
me to share with you, what is left of our lives, 
and let us make a pledge not to go to our death, 
one without the other. In death only will our 
souls be purged, and when we live again, Kasaan, 
mayhap we will pick up the threads of that 
greater love and weave them into a new life of 
noble helpfulness and purity.” 

There was much of the Layna he had once 
worshipped in this tender caress, those softly 
spoken words, and Kasaan closed his hands over 
her own as he spoke. 

“Ah yes, when we live again, when we live 
again, when we live again,” he repeated, his voice 
dying into a deep silence as if contemplating upon 


that future life. Then he aroused himself as if 
struck by some new message. 

“You must go away Layna. It is madness to 
think of our beginning our lives together now, 
and besides—I do not need you and you do not 
need me. Our work is done.” 

Kasaan’s mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes 
looked upon her coldly and steadily. 

Layna was silent, thoughtful, and when she 
spoke her voice was painfully low. “Yes, I will 
go. Only in that future life, after death has 
purged us, is there hope,” and she passed slowly 
through the doorway and was lost in the darkness 
of descending night. 

Kasaan crept to the door and watched her 
departing figure, a low moan escaping him, 
“Layna, I still love you, I love you—too late, too 
late,” and he crouched upon the floor. 

Save for the dim shadows that played about 
the room, all was now a death-like stillness. Then 
began an audible, incessant muttering from his 
lips, “hope in a future life, hope in a future life, 
hope in a future life,” and still repeating those 
last words Layna had left to him, he crawled to 
his cot. Spasms of pain wracked his wretched 
limbs and even as sleep stole upon him in his suf¬ 
fering, her words were seen to still form them¬ 
selves upon his lips. 


It had been one week since Tokalon had found 
Demetra and taken her to his own dwelling, and 
most of that time she had lain in a delirium calling 
for Lesaria. In her moments of consciousness 
she clung to her child frantically, talking to it of 
the future days when they should find its father 
and all be happy together again. There were 
times when she fancied she held in her arms the 
tiny babe of seven years ago. 

"Tokalon,” she said one day, "tell me about the 
recovery of my baby, for he does seem such a 
baby to me even yet,” and she smothered her face 
in his mass of curls. "Please tell me where he 
has been all these years. All I seem to remember 
is that one day when Kasaan was angry, he told 
me my baby was in his hands, that I and my baby 
belonged to him. I became distracted, maddened 
—all that has happened since that moment seems 
so vague to me, except the day when you came 
and took me away with you.” 

Tokalon took her hands. "You are not strong 
enough yet, Demetra, my child, that is why I have 
not told you, and since you have your baby with 


you, be happy in that and forget the dreadful 

“Ah yes, I am happy, so happy,” Demetra 
whispered and pressed a kiss upon his hands, then 
extended one arm about the shoulder of her child 
and played lovingly with his brown locks, her eyes 
filling with tears as she said pitifully, “My baby, 
my pretty baby boy, has grown to be quite a man. 
Ah, but we shall soon find papa and he will teach 
you to play the violin. Your fingers are just like 
his, the same wonderful fingers and you will be a 
great violinist too.” Again she lapsed into a 
semi-delirium, calling repeatedly for Lesaria. 

The childish face looked upon her innocently 
and tenderly. “Mama dear, I love you, and when 
I was away from you, I wasn’t away either for 
you were ever near me, and at night time your 
darling face was always bent above me, smiling 
sweetly and comfortingly upon me.” 

The music of the childish voice called Demetra 
back from her delirium. “Yes, I was ever near 
you, and were you always happy my dear?” she 
asked in an anxious tone. 

“Yes, mama dear, because you were always 
near me.” 

“And were you treated kindly?” she went on. 

At that moment Lilith entered the room and 
Demetra’s question, by the decree of a wiser Fate, 
remained unanswered by the child. And far 


better that it were, for the childish mind was 
spared the unhappiness of recalling certain occa¬ 
sions when its little life had been in danger in the 
hands of disreputable associates of Kasaan’s, 
characters who had no thought, no sympathy for 
a human being, although it may be said that 
Kasaan had at all times treated the little one with 
a kindness that was almost unbelievable in him 
but his love for Demetra made him more tender 
toward her child. Until that day when he taunted 
her by saying it was in his keeping he had kept 
the child in the care of a very worthy nurse who 
had had the entire training of it. But on that 
day when Demetra had realized that Kasaan’s 
influence over her had ceased and she told him 
how bitterly she hated him, in a moment of frenzy 
he abandoned the child to the care of some of his 
most ruthless associates, from whom Tokalon 
rescued it. 

Lilith, holding Demetra’s face between her 
hands, looking earnestly upon her, spoke in a 
sympathetic manner, “Tokalon sent me a mes¬ 
sage that you were here, that he had found you, 
and Demetra, my dear, I am so happy to see you 

“I am happy too, Lilith, very happy to be back 
with my baby, with you, with Tokalon. But 
Lesaria, why does he not come? Where is he, 
Tokalon ?” 


“You will see him shortly, my Demetra child, 
before very long you will be reunited.” As 
Tokalon spoke his voice was grave, almost solemn 
and his eyes were downcast as if he had uttered 
a benediction upon her. 

“Yes, but it has been a week now and oh! so 
often have I called to him. At times I have fan¬ 
cied he sat here beside me, playing to me as he 
once did, but I fear he has not played for anyone 
in all these years. I have broken his heart and 
stolen the music from his soul, but he is strug¬ 
gling to play again, he is playing again, I can hear 
him! Yes Lesaria, play! Play! Play! Go out 
and play for the people!” she cried, and fell back 
in a swoon. 

Tokalon placed his hand upon the pale fore¬ 
head; he watched; he waited; he was silent. 
Demetra moved again, she opened her eyes. Over 
her lovely features there spread a smile of sweet 
rest and contentment, a smile that enhanced all 
the more the pure beauty of her face. Her lips 

“The room is filled with delicately airy forms; 
they are singing to me, calling for me and now I 
hear a glorious melody—the melody they play on 
Mars. Lesaria is playing it! Oh, how beauti¬ 
fully the scene unfolds before me, taking me back 
long ago to the theatre, the opera. We were all 
there, he and Lilith and I; our soul home on Mars. 


I am going back and Lesaria is coming to join 
me; he will play for the people there; we will be 
happy again. Take good care of my baby. Good¬ 
bye, my dear ones.” 

Her final words echoed like a faint, fragrant 
essence diffused through the stillness of the room 
and a wondrous light, violet-hued flooded over the 
spot where Demetra lay, instantly enveloping her 
within its transparent glory. It made a swift 
flight upward and the place where she had lain 
was empty. A deep hush permeated the room. 
The plaintive voice of Demetra’s child was the 
first to break that throbbing silence. 

“Mama is gone; she has left us. She has gone 
to papa.” 

“Yes, she has left us for a higher realm,” 
murmured Lilith. 

“She has returned to her other home, to be 
with papa,” slowly and tenderly repeated Tokalon, 
and as he took the child into his arms, a lofty, yet 
shadowy touch of sadness darkened and glorified 
his majestic countenance. 

Turning to Lilith, he continued, “How sweet is 
the privilege of watching, guarding and nurtur¬ 
ing the soul of this little one, the child of Demetra 
and Lesaria, and the duty devolves upon you and 
me, Lilith. We have a young life to guide 
through the changing years, a life to which is 
given the gifts of heaven, the genius of his father. 


“And will I see mama and papa some day?” 

“Yes, my dear, you shall see them again some 
day,” answered Lilith as she pressed a kiss upon 
the forehead so like that of Lesaria Vinson. 

Then turning to Tokalon, “The scene that 
Demetra saw is the same one I saw that day of 
my illness in the Electric City, when Lesaria gave 
his brilliant performance in the Electric Hall.” 

“Yes, you and Demetra and Lesaria, bound by 
a kindred tie not of this earth, have lived on a 
plane of the same high creative consciousness and 
witnessed scenes visible only to those who are in 
complete harmony as you three have been, and 
sensitive to the higher vibrations within the 


The soft light of the moon flickered through 
the window, casting a faint glimmer upon a bed 
in one corner of the room; a room that once had 
rung with a baby's joyous laughter, with a moth¬ 
er's lullaby. In the indistinct shadow, a face was 
outlined; a face sickly white, hollow, filled with 
the anguish of years of pent-up suffering. The 
sunken eyes glistened with a strange beauty, re¬ 
vealing in their tragic depths, a tale of sadness 
and of misery. There remained but this phantom 
self of the famous violinist, who seven years 
before had thrilled the world with his music. In 
those weary years he had wandered over the face 
of the earth, unceasingly searching for some trace 
of his lost wife and babe, and poverty and broken 
health and spirits had forced him back alone to 
the little home upon the mountainside, the home 
that had first harbored those three lives. 

Here Lesaria Vinson lived, away from the 
world, existing in a brain-desert of silence; a 
mocking hollowness languishing in his soul, 
meaningless notes crying out from his violin. He 
had laid his beloved violin tenderly away and in 


those years of searching wandering, it had never 
been removed from the luxuriant case which so 
jealously protected it. The muse of music had 
departed from Lesaria’s soul when he lost his 
Demetra. No more did those precious melodies 
respond to the finely sensitive fingers and in a 
moment of maddening suffering and desperation, 
when he laid aside his fond instrument, her soul, 
his soul, were laid aside with the soul of his 

Day after day he wandered aimlessly through 
the pine groves half fancying that in their brutal 
silence was held the secret of his loved ones and 
in mute appeal he sought to wrest the answer 
from them. 

As he lay upon his bed, an illuminating smile 
overspread his features; his long thin fingers 
moved restlessly as if striving for something 
beyond their grasp. He arose and went to the 
case where his beloved violin was sheltered. 
Eagerly he unlocked it and in feverish haste he 
drew his violin from the soft covering. He fon¬ 
dled and caressed it as a mother would her child. 
He lifted it to his chin, he ran his fingers up and 
down the strings. Those broken melodies seemed 
to be bringing a message to him. He was con¬ 
scious of an intangible power about the instru¬ 
ment which strove to speak to him through those 
melodies. His prostrate soul seemed to touch 


more divine heights; he wanted to play before 
his dear public; he would play for them again! 

With a sweep of the bow over the strings the 
notes rang out in fragrant ecstasies and then— 
silence! All is a sickening stillness! His fingers 
remain curved upon the strings but there was no 
sensation of response. It lay like a thing of death 
in his hands. Slowly, almost tragically he placed 
it again within its silken wrappings and staggered 
to his bed, sinking down upon it with a half- 
stifled moan, “Gone! Gone!” 

The long hours of the night passed slowly on 
and at last the morning sun broke over the hills, 
her bright rays sending out a cheerful greeting 
to Lesaria Vinson. On this particular morning, 
taking his violin under his arm—his only com¬ 
panion—he went out for his customary stroll. 
Since last night’s event, he had wept, he had 
prayed, for the return of his master muse which 
so suddenly and cruelly deserted him at the 
moment of renewed inspiration, renewed hope, 
renewed ambition. Perhaps the close compan¬ 
ionship of his cherished violin would give back to 
him the lost melodies. His fingers now constantly 
ached to feel the throbbing of the strings beneath 
them. For one week he lived with it, coaxing, 
talking to it and gradually it responded as if it 
were a human voice consoling and pitying him. 

Then one evening as Lesaria sat delicately, 


tenderly fondling the sensitive strings, a compel¬ 
ling voice spoke to him. 

“Play! Play! Play!” it urged. “Go out and 
play for the people!” 

He sat back and felt as if he were being car¬ 
ried away. He was in a vast hall; a great multi¬ 
tude had assembled. How madly, how dramati¬ 
cally they greeted him! He began playing for 
them and under the spell of his music they were 
transformed. Coming back from this reverie, he 
sprang up with fresh vigor and enthusiasm, his 
thin face alive with new hope. In his eyes shone 
a deep luster. Yes, he was going back to the 
people to thrill them once more with .the divine 
beauty of his music! 

With his precious violin he emerged from that 
abode which had sheltered him, his music and 
his memories apart from the world. 


The auditorium is crowded. Darkness is upon 
the stage, save for a little shaft of light which 
falls over an approaching figure, and as its glow 
catches that face so shrunken, so pale, so full of 
suffering, yet at this moment divinely beautiful, 
an audible whisper vibrates through the house. 

Like a phantom ghost from another world, a 
grave sprite of the distant past, Lesaria Vinson 
stands before them. At last he has come out of 
those years of suffering, of loneliness, of pitiless 
waiting in which the voice of his violin has been 
silenced. As he stands again before his audience 
what a conflict rages in that beautiful soul—what 
love, what tragedy, what eternal joys, what sor¬ 
rows ! The people love him, he is still their idol, 
the supreme genius! 

But little do they realize what they are demand¬ 
ing of him at this performance. Other players 
had made an attempt to reach Mars with their 
music but no tangible message had yet come from 
Mars to the people of the earth. And now their 
faith lay only in Lesaria Vinson. He well under¬ 
stood that this performance in which he had been 


almost forced to appear, might be the fiasco of his 
nearly finished life, but it mattered little—at least 
through his appearance again the people would 
be satisfied. 

The great tone magnifiers were set in place and 
focused on Mars. The transformer, which was 
to transform the tones into their relative colors, 
was also ready and connected with the second 
transformer, the two instruments being in tune 
and governed by the musician sending the mes¬ 

The great lenses which would illuminate the 
sky in various colors according to the intensity 
and will of the musician, were placed at various 
centers on the earth’s surface. 

Lesaria Vinson is to play for them a creation 
of his spirit mind! His fingers curve upon the 
bow, he touches the G string drawing a long 
steady tone. The magnifier and transformer 
instantly respond showing he has not lost the 
wonderful tone for which he is noted. The color 
is gray expressing no particular emotion. But 
Lesaria Vinson seeing the tone transformed into 
a color finds something new within himself. His 
fingers meet the strings with a new-born deter¬ 

Suddenly the veil of light which makes him 
visible vanishes and the stage is in total darkness. 
We do not see the violinist—other lands, other 


peoples dazzle our vision. Across the paths of 
memory there surges the spell of a melody born 
of the spirits of heaven and hell, a melody cap¬ 
tured in the mystery wanderings of the com¬ 
poser's soul, and brought forth into the vanishing 
light of day, echoing and re-echoing across the 
threshold of eternity. 

How furiously the notes pile up beneath those 
gaunt, bony fingers! Each impassioned string 
groans and trembles as if it were the breaking of 
a human heart string, the notes pealing forth 
softly at first, then giving way to a wild and 
sweeping strain of dramatic frenzy! He takes 
his audience through all the shades of joy and 
fury until they scarce can realize they are listen¬ 
ing to the voice of the violin. They almost fear 
Lesaria Vinson. They whisper one to the other, 
“He has gone mad!" Yet they cannot escape the 
spell of his playing. They sit immovable, almost 
afraid to breathe, fancying their very breath will 
disturb the gorgeous scene into which they have 
been transported. 

Music in the sky is something new to them. 
Little by little as the tone of the violin increases 
and decreases and the tone magnifiers respond 
accordingly the sky changes from one color to 
another. Now it is golden and as the tone in¬ 
creases it becomes a beautiful red with lightning 
flashes of gold here and there. 


Suddenly the music ceases; for an instant the 
player holds his bow aloft. He hears a distant 
voice speaking to him. He is searching for some¬ 
thing that fills the air. Then as if he had captured 
a spirit voice he begins to improvise lightly as a 
whispering echo. A scarcely distinguishable 
melody floats out of the great expanse. White 
draped figures, invisible to the human eye, move 
to and fro singing a strain of triumphant joy, a 
strain too soft for mortal ear to grasp. The audi¬ 
ence is lulled into a magic listlessness. A curious 
mingling of thousands of sweet-tinkling voices 
delicately swishes through the air; misty shapes 
dart in fleeting shadows about the stage. A mil¬ 
lion different themes pour forth in a volume of 
tone scarcely louder than a far-off silence. 

The great virtuoso has only been playing with 
tone and tone quality, a few scales, now and then 
a minor passage while he watches the light vary 
in intensity. Can he play his new concerto? Is 
this moment the great climax of his career ? He 
hesitates a moment, the spirit of his beloved 
Demetra has called to him, he hears her voice, 
sees her form, and into his soul and into his violin 
has been whispered that forgotten music. 

Little by little he decreases the runs on the G 
string. Little by little the red begins to fade 
from the sky. Then all is green with varied 
flashes of intensity, now almost white, then dark- 


ening to a near black as he adds string after 
string in his rapid execution, and returns to the 
G string again. With one terrific crash of tone 
covering all the strings of the violin, varied colors 
flash through the heavens. The melody rises in 
pitch beyond the sense of hearing. The audience 
gaze upon the player spellbound. Lesaria Vinson 
is master of the elements! 

The people can hear nothing—and yet he is 
playing. A mysterious silence holds them. They 
are afraid but they cannot escape this weird spell. 
His violin, hands, body are illumined with fast¬ 
changing colors. With what dramatic force he 
makes his motions! Ah, but the people cannot 
understand! He can hear the music he is cre¬ 
ating—color-music—audible only to his inner 

But in the sky wonderful flowers are forming. 
A beautiful red rose is seen. The tone now light¬ 
ens, the runs become more rapid and green foliage 
appears. Then the long steady strokes of the 
bow, once more the rapid execution and perfect 
intonation, suddenly changing the key a quarter 
of a tone and as quickly returning, and lilies are 
forming in the heavens, pure white in color, then 
blue, rapidly changing from blue to yellow, then 
to red. The sky is a flower garden of Easter 
Lilies, some small, some large, and with one tre¬ 
mendous rush of sound they transform into one 


massive flower hovering over the earth as if to 
say, “Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.” 

The soul of man—how far does it extend about 
him? The body, the personality of Lesaria Vin¬ 
son is being effaced. For the first time, color- 
music—the music of Mars—was recreated into 
sound. Lesaria Vinson had not broken the faith 
of the people. In his final farewell he had materi¬ 
alized for them the Melody from Mars. Quietly 
and slowly, one by one the audience left their 
seats. The divine power of the music to which 
they had listened had enthralled them in chains of 
silence. They had been given a glimpse of 
Heaven. They could not speak; they only knew 
they had seen and heard something that exists 
beyond the earth plane, and their silence was a 
token of infinite respect, a monument to their 
beloved genius. 

But now the earth is trembling. Is it the mag¬ 
nifier ? No, the transformer is transforming into 
sound the floral message which Mars is returning. 
The people had often felt the vibrations when 
other players were attempting to get a message. 
Did Lesaria Vinson create the great lily? No 
one knew, and he was gone, but how or where? 
Yet the lily still remained and the earth continued 
to tremble. 

Mars had heard her own and was sending the 
answer. Another lily and then another until the 


heavens were aglow with monster lilies and still 
the earth trembled but no sound was heard. Then 
a low rumbling as if the bass of a world orchestra 
had been created and flowers—new species never 
seen by mortal man, with colors beyond human 
comprehension—were filling the heavens as if the 
flower garden of God had been opened to view. 

The roll of the bass grew and grew, here and 
there vivid flashes of lightning rent the sky and 
for an instant changed the color; the earth 
moaned as if grieved at its wickedness and with a 
tremendous rush of wind and a roar that human 
mind could not describe, all was darkness. 

The inhabitants of the earth, where were they ? 
Where were the magnifiers? The transformers? 
No one knew. 

But another moon had been born and where 
water had been land appeared. And where moun¬ 
tains were there rolled the billows of a mighty 
ocean. And those who had survived could only 
talk among themselves for the new generation did 
not understand. But the earth had been purged 
of its selfishness. A new era, the spiritual age— 
the age of the superman—had dawned. 


Out of the chaos from which came the birth of 
the new world there had remained a relic of the 
old world, the Electric City and its inhabitants. 
In all its radiant glory, its exotic splendor, like 
an enchanted fairyland it had remained as an 
emblem of the creative genius of the past era. 

Dwelling within this fair city was a great 
philosopher and scientist, a noble character whose 
leadership in the new order of things was every¬ 
where predominant. He was the son of Demetra 
and Lesaria Vinson. 

To Lilith had come immortality. Making her 
home upon whatever planet she chose, she could 
project her consciousness to mother earth and 
visit the Electric City at will. 



I ■ • 

* * 

, V