“It is evident that you are not a theosophist, doctor. I assure you, however, that the Buddhists are right. I know they are right, for I have myself been on earth twice before. You have doubtless often noted that I am not as other children.”
“True, you have always seemed much older than your years,” I replied.
“Then you are prepared to believe me when I assert that what you have regarded as an appearance of premature age, is merely a reflection of my past lives showing through the childlike envelopment of the present.”
“Ah!” I exclaimed, “there is certainly food for reflection in what you say. I confess, however, that the idea had never suggested itself to me. I shall certainly make a note of it.”
My visitor seemed gratified at having imparted such interesting and valuable information.
“And now, doctor, I am sure you will not consider me egotistic if I claim to be, what my appearance would indicate—a ‘wise child’.”
“Oh, ho! Are you the original ‘wise child’ who knew his own father?” I asked, jocularly.
My young friend seemed to take me seriously, and replied, “Pshaw! doctor; I am surprised that you even remember that absurd theory. There’s nothing in it, and besides, it’s a very crude test of intellectuality. Why shouldn’t any child who is not an idiot, know its own father? Why, I was introduced to mine immediately on my arrival in your inhospitable clime. I remember the introduction more particularly, because, not knowing what sort of people I was to fall in with, I was quite afraid I might be asked to step over and sit with the girls—a fate too horrible to think of!
“Now, doctor, I suppose you are wondering what I am going to find to talk about. I have already informed you that platitudes and conventional commonplaces are very fatiguing to me. I assure you, however, that it is not my intention to go to the other extreme and talk abstract science.”
“Great Scott!” I exclaimed, “Do you mean to say that you have had a scientific training?”