And Hummel, seeing this astonishing loophole for them all, arose to greet the general smile.
“Kind friends,” said he, in trembling relief, “more blessed is it to give than to receive.”
THE SORCERY OF ASENATH
By Maria Roberts
People often ask me why I gave up a promising business career and devoted myself to traveling, in which I find no pleasure; exploring, for which I have no taste; and archæology, which is to me the most tiring of pursuits. The question has never been answered, save by the statement that there is no reason to give, which involves the telling of an incredible story.
There are two or three to whom I would like to tell it. If they survive me, they shall know—to that end, these pages.
It is my conviction that whatever intelligent man has known, he has tried to record in some way—that living truths, new to us, may be gleaned from the stone tablets of races extinct for ages. For such a truth, I am searching. One man found it, but he is dead. His spirit I have called up, as the woman at Endor called up Samuel, and questioned it. He told me that the knowledge had sent it to the world of shades before its time, and had put power into the hands of an evil one, who had bidden it never in any place to reveal to any mortal what it knew.
“Even yet I must obey her,” said the spirit of Paul Glen; “but what you seek is written.”
As yet, I have not read. Many strange things have I unearthed, but never this that I seek.
Now, I will write my story. You who read it may believe or not, as you see fit. I know that it is true.