Chapter IV: Two Candidates (1)

At the close of the April term, 1923, Judge Finch, member of the Court of Appeals from the Seventh District, resigned.

John Cornwall, though the district was overwhelmingly Republican, was persuaded by the State organization to make the race as the Democratic candidate. Not that he was expected to win, but, being a strong man, it was thought his name on the ticket would cut down the Republican majority of the district and thus help the Democratic candidate for Governor and the rest of the State ticket.

Mrs. Rosamond Clay Saylor, at home for the summer, read his announcement in the Pineville Messenger. When her husband came home she met him on the porch.

"I see John Cornwall is a candidate for Judge of the Court of Appeals."

"Yes, I knew that several days ago. He would make a good judge, but has no chance in this district. I'll have to vote for him and speak and work for the Republican ticket in some other section of the State."

"You will do nothing of the sort. You will make the race against him. Think what an opportunity you would have while on the bench at Frankfort to electioneer as a candidate for Governor in 1927. That is the way Judge Singer worked it when he was nominated and elected. Besides, the woman's suffrage organization wants a judge they can trust, and as long as you are married to me they can trust you."

"But I want to run for Congress next year in this district."

"Can't you see further than the end of your nose. You have been in Congress; there's nothing in that for you. You better let that drop. If you listen to me you will be elected Governor in 1927 if the Republicans win."

"But John is my brother-in-law; he's a much better lawyer and would make a good judge."

"When did they begin electing good lawyers as Judges of the Court of Appeals? You are standard judicial timber. And when did you develop such a sentimental family streak? You have not been to see your mother since you returned from Italy in 1919."

"Well, I will go down to Louisville and see what Searcy Chilton has to say about it. Let's have dinner."

Several days later he called on Searcy Chilton. After waiting a short while he was admitted to his private office. "Well! Hello Saylor! When did you get in? What do you want? How are things going in the Eleventh this fall? We must have thirty-five thousand in that district."

"I want the nomination for Judge of the Court of Appeals in the Seventh District."

"Against your brother-in-law?"

"Yes, he didn't consult me before he announced."

"You are too late. We have promised that to Judge Kash; though from the way he's shelling out, he had better change his name to Judge Tight Wad. Your nomination would hold some votes which otherwise Cornwall would swing for the State ticket. How do you stand with the miners? If I give you the nomination what will you do for the State ticket?"

"I will give five thousand dollars and finance my own campaign. I'm all right with the miners, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I will think about it and if my answer is favorable your announcement will be in the Sunday Post. If you see the announcement bring me down that five thousand in cash next week. I want no checks. No one need know what is spent this year. Goodbye. Call again when you come to town."

"In the Sunday Post Colonel Saylor read an excellent biography of himself, coupled with a declaration that he was a candidate for Judge of the Court of Appeals in the Seventh District, and was said to have the backing of the Republican State organization. Though, when Mr. Searcy Chilton was called up and asked, he stated; 'The organization has adopted an unbreakable policy of hands off in the district, and local races.'"

In due course, Colonel Saylor and John Cornwall were each nominated and entered upon an active campaign of the twenty-seven counties of the district.

In the beginning of the campaign it looked as though Colonel Saylor would be overwhelmingly elected. While nine-tenths of the lawyers favored Cornwall's election, Mrs. Rosamond Clay Saylor was making an active canvass and lining up the women in her husband's behalf; Luigi Poggi and several other miners were organizing Saylor clubs among the miners; and a majority of the American Legion, of course, favored the election of one of their charter members.

Slowly sentiment began to shift in favor of Cornwall. Some of the members of the Legion insisted that Colonel Saylor as a candidate was using his connection with their organization too strongly. He made an egregious blunder in an address to the Clear Creek miners and when his speech was reported he lost many votes.

Some of the lawyers in the face of his almost certain election, knowing that after his qualification, he would even scores with them, charged that he was unfit for the place; and that the politicians of the State would no longer permit a good lawyer to be elected Judge of that court.

Colonel Craddock, a retired lawyer of the local bar at Pineville, and eighty-three years old, published a statement in opposition to Saylor's candidacy. He said in part;

"Though an old man I am not a worshiper of ancientism. I think I can give to present-day men credit where credit is due. But when you are old and experience has taught you that no one is infallible and that every one at times is weak and therefore you should judge your neighbor compassionately, it has also given you the power to discriminate between the false and the true and to see through the shams of life with accurate insight.

"Exercising this faculty which comes with the loss of others, as the sense of touch is developed in the blind, and guided by it, though a Republican, I am forced to oppose the candidacy of J. C. Saylor as Judge of the Court of Appeals and advocate that of his opponent John Cornwall, a Democrat.

"In the election of a Judge, the standard of measurement of the conscientious voter should be one of fitness only.

"Shall not the Judge do right? And how can he do right if he is a crook?

"Shall not the Judge interpret the law with wisdom and understanding? And how can he do that if he is a fool?

"Shall not the Judge be free? And how can a coward or a tool, worn blunt in crooked service, be free or cut straight and true?

"What an execration when a Judge is a Jeffries and what a benediction when he is a Marshall or a White.

"A Judge's mind must be open to argument and he must have power to discern between the false and the true.

"The Lord, the First and Last Judge, alone will be able to set some judgments straight and straighten some judges. He in majesty and power upholds the law, which is never broken. It is man who is broken by the law.

"The great curse of Kentucky is that many of her Judges belong to that very common species of Judge. Judex apiarius. Their capacity for hearing the facts and declaring the right is blurred by the buzz of the bee of political aspiration and self-interest.

"A Judge who belongs to this species can usually be classed as of the family Judex timidus,--those whose ears are so great that they can never lift them from the ground, and when a mosquito hums in Covington their dreams of peace are disturbed in Frankfort.

"They are the secret enemies of the law's certainty and stability. Their decisions shift with the tide of popular opinion. They wash their hands like Pilate (not always to cleanliness) and permit the crucifixion.

"A year or so ago, Chief Justice Grinder, in an address before a men's Bible class, declared that the Court of Appeals upon an appeal to it would have reversed the Sanhedrin. There are more than several lawyers in this State, who, knowing the members of that court, have grave doubts about it, had that court sat in Jerusalem and the appeal been prosecuted A. D. 30.

"Saylor is worse. He would make a judicial tool. Judicial tools have generally been in politics for a number of years and, preceding their judicial service, a member of the legislature for several terms, like Saylor, where they are first tried out. This judge expects one day to be Governor and is willing to do any thing to further his political ambitions. By some hook or crook or pull he succeeded in obtaining his license to practice law and since has appeared in court occasionally; generally when a jury was to be influenced.

"He is more or less a wanderer and, when he changes his residence, changes his politics and votes with the majority. He is usually a candidate for office and spends more time on the street than in his office.

"He is a mere pawn on the political chess-board and his master occasionally has him elected to office. Then the master tells him how to decide, not all, but certain cases.

"His opinions are generally misstatements of the facts presented by the record and never mention an authority cited by counsel opposing his master's decree. His references are not complimentary to such counsel, his purpose being to make him appear ridiculous and to forestall all hope for modification by a petition for rehearing, because it is barely possible that another judge may then read the record, though it is not considered judicial etiquette to do so.

"He being the only judge who has read the record, is careful to so state the facts in the consultation room as to meet with no dissent from his colleagues or to make them curious about the record.

"All of these demerits Saylor has in full measure. He is known to all of you. He lives in this county and the county is none the better for it. He defends every bootlegger and crook that is indicted and they will vote for him as they respond to his demands when they are chosen for jury service, which is entirely too frequent for the administration of justice.

"Thirty years ago no man of his reputation and limited capacity would have dared run for this high office. Now it is another thing. If elected he will find some of his associates not much better qualified, so far as knowledge of the law is concerned. Instead of being learned in the law they are politicians, who know their district and how to fool the people.

"Conditions force comparisons. Until the Civil War, opinions rendered by the Court of Appeals were quoted and cited with respect in every State of the nation. The Court since in personnel has deteriorated. Its opinions are captious, partisan, uninspired oracles, which perforce decide the case in hand; but as an authority for future reference, so far as the reasons given are concerned, are mere chit-chat.

"When I was young, and began the practice of law, there were lawyers at the bar in this State and real Judges occupied the bench. There was Clay and Crittenden and Judge Robinson and Judge Underwood. Now who have we? Such lawyers as John Calhoun Saylor and such judges as Saylor will make when elected;--The Lord save us!"

* * * * *

At the November election Colonel Saylor was elected; but by a very small majority. He ran more than five thousand votes behind the head of the ticket, and in a district where little scratching is done. The State ticket pulled him through.

When the returns came in Searcy Chilton, commenting on the race, concluded his remarks by saying; "Next time we must throw that Jonah overboard."

A day or two before he qualified, Judge Saylor came to Frankfort, and visited the courtroom a few minutes after adjournment; he even went up and tried the chair of the Chief Justice, and found the seat was none too large. No one was present but Jake, the negro janitor.

"Jake, what do the lawyers and judges have to say about my election?"

"They don't say nothin, Boss; they jest laff."

NIRVANA.

We are told that at one time the British Isles were connected with the mainland of Europe; that Italy was at least within sight of the African coast; and that westward from Gibraltar, there was a continent which ultimately sank beneath the waves, leaving isolated mountain peaks, now islands and shoals, to mark its submerged position.

The Egyptian priesthood told Solon of the greatness of the civilization of this submerged land, Atlantis or Kami, even then, as of an ancient past; and Homer, Horace and Plato have whispered of its greatness.

The soul of one of its ancient inhabitants, yet wandering upon this earth, may through transmigration have become in part your own, and you, in reverie at odd hours and in company with it, live again a few scenes of those old days.

* * * * *

Near Winchester, Kentucky, driving out the Lexington turnpike you pass an old brick farmhouse of ante-bellum days; flanked on the one side by an old stone springhouse under two spreading elms and on the other by a large tobacco barn that looks extremely modern and out of place. Behind the house is an orchard of ancient apple and pear trees, all dead at the top, a negro cabin beside which are two black heart cherry trees, higher than the farmhouse and more than three feet through; and yet farther back, hemp and tobacco fields and a woodland pasture of oak and walnut trees. At least this was a description of my home thirty years ago.

I had just graduated from Center College, and having in mind to practice law in Lexington, had during the summer formed the habit of going down to the springhouse and under the shade of its eaves and the overhanging elms, sit and read Kent's Commentaries.

A negro family lived in the cabin, Mose Hunter, his wife and boy. Mose was as black as they grow them in Kentucky; but his wife was the color of my old volumes of Kent and had build and features which fixed the country of her ancestry in northern Africa and seemed to identify her as a desert Berber. Mose worked on the farm, his wife was cook at the farmhouse, and the boy, who was said to be half imbecile, was as harmless and shy as a ground robin. I do not know of his ever having gone off the place. He was probably fourteen, had never been to school, and wandered about like a lost turkey hen. We could depend upon him to pick up the apples, feed the cider mill, water the stock, gather the eggs and feed the pigs and chickens.

The boy had the habit of coming to the springhouse and taking a nap each day on the milk crock bench, which had been discarded since we had bought our new refrigerator. Every warm summer afternoon about three o'clock, he would run down the path, dodge behind a tree out of sight, if his mother happened to step out of the kitchen door, and slipping into the springhouse, lie down and sleep quietly in its cool moist shade for a quarter of an hour; then, still asleep, sit up and in a startled way, talk earnestly for some time, his features transformed by a look of tragic intelligence, which they did not possess at other times. Then he would lie down again and after a few minutes quiet sleep, awake and return to the cabin.

His speech did not disturb me; his voice was low, though tense, and his words unintelligible. Gradually his murmurings became a familiar sound, as the call of the lark from the pasture gatepost.

Finally I noticed that he spoke in an apparently strange tongue and even mentioned time and again names given in my ancient atlas. Many times he used the words, pehu, Kami, Theni, horshesu, hik, nut, tash, hesoph, and un.

I wrote Professor Fales of Danville about this time, sending him a small box of crinoids, and casually mentioned the boy and his strange habit, writing out the above list of words, with others, that he habitually repeated.

He wrote back that the words were Egyptian or a kindred Hamite tongue. Consulting the college library, he had discovered that the ancient Egyptian name for Atlantis was Kami. That Theni was the name of a very ancient prehistoric city, its location unknown. That pehu meant an overflowed land; un, uncultivated land; and the word tash, tribe; the others he was unable to translate.

He suggested that I find out from the boy's mother where she or her people were from; get a stenographer at Winchester to come out and make careful notes of his murmurings; and when made send a copy to him and one to----, a lawyer at Covington, who was an antiquarian and an Egyptologist.

The next day after the receipt of the letter I went to Winchester and inquired at the court-house for the official stenographer. I learned, as all courts in the district were adjourned for the summer, he had gone to Atlantic City for the month. So I went to Judge Buckner's office and borrowed his stenographer.

The Judge said the season was dull and except on county court day he could spare the girl for an hour or two almost any afternoon. He also asked if my father still had on hand that half barrel of Old Mock. The next afternoon when I went for the girl I brought the Judge a gallon jug of Dad's Old Mock, telling the folks I was taking him some cider.

When we returned, we found the boy asleep in the springhouse, but within five minutes of our arrival he sat up and went through the regular program. After he had talked for some time, he laid down and resumed his quiet slumber.

This program was repeated the next day except the girl brought out a slate and succeeded in making the boy write or draw upon it characters which were strange to us, and which he wrote from right to left with great ease, though he could not write his name.

The writings on the slate the stenographer carefully copied and after transcribing her notes gave me the copies, one of which I sent to Professor Fales, who forwarded it to his learned friend at Covington. He not only wrote but telegraphed for more.

Twice again the boy's words were taken down and twice he wrote again upon the slate. We might with patience and quiet have gotten a complete history of a generation of prehistoric people, but my mother, who still looked upon me as a young boy incapable of caring for himself in the company of a designing female person, and having noted our regular visits to the springhouse, rushed down unannounced with the boy's mother.

The two made such a racket when they came in they awoke the boy, who dropped the slate. He never again came to the springhouse to sleep; and though afterwards I sat many hours by his bedside in the cabin, he never again uttered a strange or unusual sound until just before his death, which occurred in the fall.

In the early fall his father and mother visited a negro family who had a child ill with scarlet fever. Within two weeks their own boy was taken with the same illness and a few days thereafter died. Shortly before his death I went into the cabin and found him raving in the strange tongue. He had been born on the place. I felt too sad to be curious or to go for the stenographer, but I remember very distinctly the sounds of the last few words he uttered, which were twice repeated. These I wrote down and sent away. I found the translation of the words was; "After a brief bird life I shall find Nirvana."

In a talk with his mother, which occurred some time before his death, she stated that it was a rare thing he ever talked in his sleep and then only used the most common expressions.

She told me her mother was born west of Timbuctu, belonged to a Berber tribe, and had been taken prisoner and sold to slave dealers of the west African coast.

Several weeks after the boy's death I received from Professor Fales a liberal translation of the boy's talk and writings, which at the suggestion of the professor and his friend I have kept a secret, as neither of us believed in transmigration, or desired to figure as in any sense encouraging such an outrageously absurd belief.

The translator and professor are both dead and I suppose their copies have been destroyed. I give mine to the public as a spooky flight of fancy unworthy of belief, aware that this declaration will cause a few half-crazy people to believe the tale is true.

THE TRANSLATION.

The city of Theni is the capital of Kami. The western and southern coast of Kami and the interior country to the central range is a pleasant land, where palm trees of many kinds grow and there is much tropical verdure because on these coasts there is a constant current of warm water, which comes through an untraveled sea lying west and south of us, and in which float endless paths of sargassum.

To the north and east beyond the central range, as also the land northeast of us across the sea, are barren wastes of ice and snow. It has not always been so. Our records show that centuries ago the whole land was as the south and west coast country, but each year the fields of ice swallow more and more of our sweet and fertile land, until now we have but little space for our teeming population and each year less and less to eat.

On the top of a mountain south of our city dwell a few strange people with a strange faith and who keep to themselves. For years they have been building a great ship well up the mountain side. They are directed and encouraged in this useless labor by a prophet who tells of the early destruction of our land by ice and water.

I visited the place recently; the great ship is nearly completed and they are beginning to sheet the hull with copper to protect it from ice floes.

For three nights past my sleep has been disturbed by strange, wild dreams. I see the warm ocean currents which wash our shores, shifted westward by some strange freak of nature, and a land far north of us, now ice and snow, turned into greenland; while our whole land is enshrouded in death dealing cold and ice and snow and preceding this, the waters creep up and engulf our city. The mountain on which the great ship rests sinks down to meet the rising waters and the ship sails off to the southeast, leaving us helpless victims to be engulfed by the rising waters or frozen by the creeping, numbing cold, or smothered under mountains of ice and snow. How long before this shall be I do not know.

I have told my dream to Nefert, the best beloved of my wives, and we have agreed to prepare against the portent of such catastrophes.

We have too many idle, too many to feed; it were better were our population reduced one-half.

We will gather all the provisions of the land into great warehouses, and only those shall eat who labor to build our great pyramid, within which the chosen shall find refuge from the rising waters and the destructive cold.

When the pyramid is completed, we shall store it with great quantities of grain and fuel and textiles to last for years; and as the waters rise, if they shall cover the eminence on which we shall built it, which seems impossible, we shall ascend from the lower to the upper chambers.

On the morrow we will begin our preparations, which will not be wasted, though the flood and cold come not, as it will make for us a most pretentious tomb.

I shall send a great force to gather grain and other foodstuffs, another to collect fuel, others still shall be put to work to weave heavy woolen textiles. Five thousand shall quarry stone for the pyramid of Theni, which shall be built upon the highest mountain near our city. Thirty thousand shall drag and carry great stones from the quarries to the site and fifteen thousand more shall shape and place the stones. Twelve thousand shall act as guards and task masters, to see that the work is done and speedily.

I shall tell the pyramid is for my tomb and until my death to be used as a great storage warehouse; else the people may grow frightened and desperate. They have not yet learned to fear storage plants. Those of the people who are too old or too young to labor shall die.

Dimly discernible from the city is the central high mountain range, extending from the eastern coast far to the northwest and there ending in a rugged promontory, jutting out into a frozen sea.

The country across these mountains, and even to their snow-capped, fog-bannered peaks, is a land of ice and snow, destitute of all life, except a few wild and hardy white-clothed birds and beasts. Even from the mountain peaks you may see the spires and walls of an ice-encased, long dead city.

Near the city is a lesser range, upon which to their very tops grow dense groves of palm and other fern-like trees. In the shelter of these groves are many villas of the rich.

Upon the highest of this range and near our granite quarries I have decided to build the pyramid. The task of building, beginning today, will be pushed with the utmost speed.

The road leading from the city to the top and from the quarries we broadened and regraded. The site was cleared and leveled and the basal walls, six hundred and eighty feet square, started. The height is to be three hundred and fifty feet and the wall angle is approximately forty-seven degrees.

During the building there was much sickness and many deaths from starvation and hardship, for all of which I was held responsible, and until the laboring-people swore at and called me Santa, The Terrible.

Each day the pyramid grew in size; and each night seemed slightly colder than the one preceding it. It was reported that the snow on the distant mountain peaks was deeper than ever before.

We now used the lower stories of the pyramid as a storeroom for fuel and grain and were forced constantly to maintain a heavy guard to keep the half-starved populace from stealing our supplies. I had executed more than a dozen who were caught attempting to steal food stored for their betters.

The warm ocean current shifted to the west. The sun was overcast by clouds. The earth trembled. The snow line crept down the mountain range. The land seemed slowly sinking into the sea. The people shook from fear and cold.

It was necessary to push the work, and, in their terror and to satisfy their hunger, the whole population labored on the pyramid.

One night, when the pyramid was three hundred feet high, a light snow, the first, covered pyramid mountain. A few weeks later there was another and the next morning there was thin ice.

A swift-running mountain river separated pyramid mountain and the city of Theni from the foothills of the distant range. Gradually the current disappeared. The river became a salt lake, then a bay of the great western sea.

One night there was an earthquake, in which we feared for the destruction of the pyramid, and in which a number of the houses of the city toppled over on their occupants.

In the morning it was observed that the mountain on which the prophet's people lived had settled until the place where the ship rested was but a few feet above the level of our new sea. The mountain on which our pyramid had been constructed and the adjacent plain on which the city was built had risen materially in altitude; at least such seemed to be the case.

Within ten days the ship rode at anchor. Then I knew that my gods had been good to me and had truly warned so I might make preparation. I determined on the morrow to seize the ship and retain it for my own use. All owners of boats had long since fled the land. The next morning when I awoke the ship was a distant speck upon the growing ocean. It seemed the gods of some few others were caring for them also.

The pyramid now was about completed and not having provisions for all, though we of the palace stinted not ourselves, having plenty for years, I directed the guards to issue only half rations to the people. They died by hundreds and were cast from the cliffs into the cold waters of the sea.

Noticing that great crowds gathered in the city and that they wept and swore and encouraged one another to assault the palace and tear their ruler to pieces, I thought it best to desert the palace and take possession of the pyramid, which was full of provisions, and had a guard of several thousand soldiers.

So we of the palace, some hundred persons, with a guard of more than three hundred, moved into the pyramid; and, with the stones prepared for that purpose, closed the entrance hall with fifty feet of solid masonry, telling the soldiers outside that we would feed them from our supplies, which we had no intention of doing, except as they might be of use. How easy it is to fool the common people.

That night it stormed and sleet and snow made the outer pyramid a thing of milky glass.

The half-naked, half-starved people came by thousands, and holding out their hands in supplication, begged for bread. But we, sheltered and fed and clothed and sitting by our fires, had no thought for and took no risk for others.

The pyramid in the winter sunlight, with its coating of milk-white ice, seemed an immense half-buried diamond; and we within its heart were not more considerate of the starving, surging mass at its base.

Through the narrow slit-like ventilators, we heard in the afternoon the sound of strife; and, climbing to the flat top, where there was a walled-in area about twenty feet square, looked down upon the soldiers struggling with and slaughtering the half-armed, starving, shivering populace.

For sport, not caring whether they killed soldiers or subjects, I had some of our guard bring a quantity of unused granite blocks about two feet square and slide them down the ice-smooth surface into the seething mass below.

After watching for some time, though clothed in a heavy woolen gown, I grew cold and tired of the sport and went below to the feast, the music and the dance. There I sat with Nefert and two other queens, not less beautiful.

One of the guards from the pinnacle came down and reported that the soldiers had ceased fighting the populace and, joining cause with them, were attempting to scale the pyramid by cutting steps in the icy surface. So again I went above and Nefert went with me.

Our guards collected small stone blocks and with them bowled off our desperate, slowly-climbing assailants. The boulders slid over the glazed surface with the speed of a swift-winged water fowl and when they found a victim precipitated him, a death-dealing catapultic charge upon the heads of his comrades. The effort to reach us was utterly futile.

For several days we found it great sport to shoot loaves of bread and a few tempting morsels of food down to the starving mass and watch them fight and struggle for possession.

At my suggestion, to make the game of greater interest, we took the bread from the crusts and stuffed the loaves with stones. Occasionally, one snatching for the bread lost his life from the stone loaf. So the days passed, not wholly without amusement.

The whole land was now white with snow and ice. Great white bears came out of the mountains of the north and feasted on the dead at the base of the pyramid. Nowhere in the land could we see a living man.

In our company was a beautiful young maid; and, thinking she might furnish amusement for a dull afternoon, I gave orders that she be brought to my quarters.

She was carried thence, struggling and in tears. With her came one of our captains, who said she was to be his wife, and asked me to spare her discourtesy for his sake. He had many times been of service, but no more so than a subject should be. I directed that he be thrown from the top platform, and took the girl with me, so she might see the spectacle.

The guards lifted him over the wall and gave a shove. He started slowly, bracing and resisting with hands and feet, but was soon speeding meteor-like down the icy incline. He disappeared, in the snow and debris at the base, but in a few minutes reappeared, with right arm swinging useless at his side.

The girl, giving a cry, leaped over the wall and skimming along the incline as a swallow might the face of a white slanting cliff, sped towards her lover. The man leaped to the edge to break her fall and she struck him with destructive force. They were thrown some distance and lay still in the snow, which was crimsoned by their bleeding wounds.

Two great white bears, smelling the blood, came forth from behind the cliffs and feasted upon the pair.

In a few more days the icy waters of a polar sea covered the city of Theni; and in tears we witnessed the great dome of the temple of our gods sink beneath its surface. The next week great icebergs were floating across the plain and above the site of Theni. It grew intensely cold and the inner walls of our great upper hall were coated with frost crystals.

The wind shrieked; great waves striking the mountain side shook our pyramid. The sight was blotted out by a blizzard of snow and ice.

* * * * *

The guards are kept busy with spears and spades trying to keep the ventilators and the pinnacle area free of snow and ice so we can have air. Several have been blown from the top.

We made a mistake in the construction of our refuge. We should have shielded our ventilators to keep off the snow. It is a hard struggle for air. Tomorrow we must start work opening the passageway for light and air. Nefert says I should have built a ship and sailed away, as did the prophet and his people.

* * * * *

Nefert awake. It is dark and cold. The air is foul. I hear rushing waters. It comes in the ventilators above our heads. It is salty. We are being swallowed by the icy sea. I have found you! O! How cold! How cold!

* * * * *

I know not how long it has been, nor how many different habitations my soul has tenanted since our pyramid sank beneath the icy sea and, holding Nefert in my arms, I lost consciousness.

I am now in India, near the city of Bombay. A city presenting a magnificent front, but reeking with filth and disease, where, through the year, cholera daily claims its victims. It is the year 1790.

On the top of a high hill in a beautiful garden are three Dakhmas or Parsee towers of silence. These towers, built like a windowless colosseum, are massive cylinders of hard black granite, open to the heavens.

The parapet supports a coping of motionless living vultures, waiting in patience to be fed. Here the death rate is high and there are many to die, so they do not suffer from hunger.

The vultures grow restless; they see a funeral cortege of black men in spotless white robes; they bear a black corpse in a white shroud. The body is hastily deposited within the area on its bed of stone and mattress of charcoal. The vultures swoop down to the feast. In a short while, satiated, they rise on heavy wing and lazily resettle upon the parapet.

* * * * *

All day long, my soul struggling for freedom or forgetfulness, is caged within the body of one of these vultures. I do not see the sun except through vulture eyes. I do not feed except upon the dead. My companions are vultures. I am never beyond the smell of the dead. I have no friendships, no hopes.

There are times at night when my vulture body sleeps. Then the soul seems to break forth; but it does not go out in freedom as of old. I may go into the hovels of Bombay in the form of an old black beggar.

Then it is my overwhelming desire to do some act of kindness, but my clothes are in rags; my face is a horrid mask, and I smell of the dead and am driven away.

I found a man dying by the wayside, too weak to move, too blind to see. When he asked for water, I thought now is my chance. I shuffled to the fountain and when I would dip up a cupful, it became as solid glass.

At a time of famine I found a child crying for bread without the city walls. At great strain upon my feeble limbs, I climbed a wall and stole from the kitchen of the enclosed villa a roasted fowl and carried it to the child. The child took it, but when he raised it to eat, it was the hand of a putrid corpse.

When I lift the head of the sick, they shudder and gasp and grow cold.

So I return to my vulture body, to my perch on the parapet, to breakfast on the dead and to my vulture consort.

(End of translation.)

* * * * *

I spent the next winter at law school, returning to the old farmhouse the middle of May.

The first time I went down to the springhouse, I saw a vividly-colored golden robin or hangnest restlessly flitting about the old elm trees and occasionally bursting into loud-noted song.

A few days later I heard and saw him again. He was not so restless, and his song was low-toned and had a rich and more pleasant refrain. His notes were of endless and individual variety.

When he ceased singing I heard an incessant warble of sweet, though feeble, notes and, looking above my head, saw the composer, his bride, dressed in olive and gold, weaving on the pendulous nest of moss and horse hair, near the tips of the overhanging limb. I then knew why his song had changed and understood the happy warble of the busy weaver.

They were so gaily colored, so happily situated, their home so far from harm, they were so exclusive, that I called the pair the little king and queen.

Bright pair of boundless wing and sweet song, did you first meet here? You did not come together. How did the king mark the way for his queen? Have you searched all the way from Panama, your winter home, for this old elm, to celebrate your bird marriage, pass your honeymoon and find much joy in nest-building and rearing a family? Do you know tears and night and nothingness? Or have you found and eaten of the fruit of the trees of life and eternal love?

In about three weeks all song ceased. They made incessant trips to the old orchard and returned with caterpillars to feed five cavernous yellow-throated mouths.

One warm sultry afternoon in June I sat in my old place by the springhouse, reading Story's Equity Jurisprudence and, closing the book, enjoyed the ease and peace of the lazy, if not the righteous.

I slept; and my mind jumbling the springhouse, the orioles, the dead boy and his strange tale, whispered that my little king and queen of the hanging nest were Santa and Nefert. Thereafter I called them as the dream had said.

The little nestlings grew apace and the nest made tight quarters. One, seeking room and adventure, climbed out and perched upon a twig. Growing careless or sleepy, or caught by a squall, he half flew, half fell from his perch.

The big black cat, who every week ate his weight in young birds, pounced upon the unfortunate one, who let out a squawk of terror.

Santa darted into the face of the cat with such fierce force as to rescue the baby bird, but lost his own life by his brave rashness.

Before the plumage of white, black and old gold had been marred I drove the cat away and picked up the little dead king.

In the corner of the old orchard, hedged about by a stone fence overhung with myrtle and honeysuckle, under three ancient cedar trees, were four graves; three of slaves long dead and the other of the half-witted boy.

Under the fresh green sod of the newer grave I buried the dead bird, and marked the spot with little cedar grave boards, on which I carved the name, "Santa." What a place to bury a king who had built a great pyramid for his sepulchre!

A CONSCIOUS MUMMY.

I sat under the old elm trees reading a work on Early Egyptian Civilization, which declared that the recorded history of that ancient people began when Menes was king, about 4300 B. C.

Placing the book, back up on the ground, I thought of their strange faith; the reverent care with which they embalmed the body to be again occupied by the soul, when, after many transmigrations from one animal to another, having expiated all sins done in the body, it should return purified to the old body. Assuming their belief true, where now might be those ancient believers in Osiris, Ra, Horus, Isis, Set and other nature gods, having ages before bowed in submission to Bes, the god of death?

How limited is sense; how weak intellect; how short bodily life. Yet the very frailty and uncertainty of life establishes the immortality of the soul and the soul, in turn, gives spontaneous testimony to God and of a life within which the body does not own.

Nature was enjoying her afternoon siesta. Over the hills so far away as to make it a picture, a threshing machine was eating wheat shocks and blowing forth a golden dust-like breath of straw. The incessant sawing of harvest flies, a heavy country dinner and the afternoon glow and heat conspired to drive me into the springhouse, where the coolness and peace of the place brought a bodily laziness, and, lying down on the old stone shelf, I slept.

Three walls of the springhouse grew as the palace walls of Aladdin; the front rolled up as the curtain for a drama; and between great columns of red granite and porphyry, chiseled with hieroglyphics and decorated with the symbols of Amun and Osiris, I looked out upon a grove of date palms, the pyramid of Sneferru, an island sea of yellow flood water, and yet beyond, the low hills of Arabia. A view seemingly as familiar as the one from my bedroom window.

It was the Nile valley at Meidoom; Aur-Aa was at flood stage, then nearly fifty feet above the normal level, Now, after centuries, the valley has been filled by river silt and the tide is much shallower.

The beauty and changefulness of that narrow valley by comparison with the monotonous lands which flank it gave promise of a happy people. Hemmed in on the west by the sand hills of Libya and on the east by the equally bare, dry, never-changing hills of Arabia; teeming with people as the channels of an ant hill with ants; intensively cultivated, some of the crops like the dhourra or millet, the principal food of the poor, returning to the sower two hundred and fifty times its seed; shaded by date palms which yield abundant and delicious fruit; a land with a delightful climate seasonably watered, fertilized by yearly tides and protected from invasion by wide deserts of soft sand; why should we not have been a happy people?

Because no one is free. We are enslaved by caste, a most merciless master, by the priesthood, by our king. We work continually, but for others. Happy he, who when life is done, after contributing to the priesthood and the king, after sacrificing to a hundred gods, leaves sufficient estate to pay for the embalming of and a safe resting place for his body.

This is the best of a short life, with the sad hope that after you have been many times a lower form of life, you may return to your old body if, perchance, it may be found. Far better off the unclean fish, which, when the flood recedes, gasp themselves to death in shallow pools, choked by the sand.

I rose from my couch and walked out where a better view might be had of the river and the valley.

Near a small eminence more than sixty feet above the flood tide was a great fleet of barges and rafts of logs, which had borne heavy blocks of cut stone from far to the southward down on the tide to construct our tombs and temples.

Upon the rafts and barges low caste humanity, driven by the lash to tortured effort, swarmed and sweated and groaned that some high priest or royal personage might in mummied grandeur await his soul's return to its foul, flinty, wrinkled and desolate home. Near, floating northward with the tide, was a great obelisk of granite weighing more than forty tons, held upon the surface by parallel rafts of buoyant logs and inflated skins.

I was head embalmer, one of the priesthood and, therefore, considered one of the fortunate ones.

The city of Meidoom was called the City of the Dead, because at that time, 3750 B. C., it was the place of burial of the royalty and priesthood of Men-nefu, which name means secure and beautiful, and which centuries later was changed to Memphis.

Meidoom's population, near forty thousand, consisted of more than two thousand priests with their families and retainers and twenty thousand laborers and overseers. The majority are engaged in the construction of temples and sarcophagi.

The people are firm believers in a future state and therefore very religious. The priests act as intercessors between the people and their many gods, look after the sacred animals of the temples, are professional embalmers, architects and custodians of the tombs.

The priesthood hold high social rank, are exempt from taxes, but do not practice celibacy or asceticism. Their ranks are recruited by heredity or from the nobility; and it is not uncommon for a prince to surrender his claim of succession to assume the office of high priest.

Had there been occasion for a test of power between the government and the priesthood, the priestly orders would have been found the real rulers.

Amun is the chief or spiritual god of the Egyptians. The name means The Hidden One; and he controls the conscience and the soul.

Rahotep is chief priest of Amun and the keeper of the Book of Death. He and all the priesthood of Amun wear a costume of white linen decorated with the blue figure of a man having the head of a ram and carrying in his hand a sharsh, the symbols of Amun. The chief priest in addition wears the royal symbol with two long feathers as a head dress.

Osiris is the god of good, in contradistinction to Set, the god of evil. He is the god of the Nile and the guardian and preserver of the human body after death. His symbol is a mummy wearing a royal crown and ostrich plumes. The god of the sun is the soul of Osiris. The white linen gowns of the priests of Osiris have a figured border of mummies in black, wearing crowns and ostrich plumes. Nefermat, chief priest, in addition wears the royal insignia.

At this time, besides many shrines, there are three temples at Meidoom, the temple of Amun, the temple of Osiris and the temple of The Dead. The two orders of the priesthood are presided over by Rahotep and Nefermat, the two sons of Sneferru, who, occupying their priestly positions at his demise, the succession passed to Khufa, a brother, who married Neferma, the widow of Sneferru.

As chief embalmer I had charge of the temple of the Dead, where both orders of the priesthood officiated, since the one god, Amun, having charge of the soul, and the other, Osiris, of the body, perforce met officially, though usually holding little communication with each other.

As I stood at the portal two processions of priests drew near, the one led by Rahotep, the other by Nefermat. These two, leaving their attendants, entered the temple.

As they passed I bowed low to earth and followed into the corridor, there they found seats, and I stood before them awaiting their commands.

Rahotep said, "Our mother, the queen, has just died; after her body is partly embalmed they will bring it here from Men-nefer, when you, because of your skill, are to prepare it to rest in the vault of the great pyramid beside our father Sneferru, in care of Osiris, until Amun shall see fit to surrender her soul again to her body."

(Nefermat) "You mean, until Osiris shall deem her soul sufficiently purified to re-enter her body."

"No, as Amun is the superior of Osiris, so is the soul master of its tenement, the body, though it is by the grace of Osiris that the body is preserved until Amun has purified the soul for another human existence."

"You are wrong; in all sacred animals human souls dwell; it is only when those souls are made pure that Osiris permits them to occupy a human form. * * * Tepti, priest of Osiris, embalmer of and dweller with the dead and custodian of the temple of the Dead, what say you as to the body and the soul?"

"Pardon, Most Exalted of Osiris, am I to look upon your question as a command?"

"Yes."

"My belief, of which I am not master, I have kept unto myself and if put into words is but spoken ignorance. To become an expert embalmer I experimented on the bodies of many animals not sacred to our gods and discovered that they were as easily preserved as the bodies of men. This forced the conclusion that if man was specially favored of the gods, it was not in bodily composition; therefore, it would seem, the body is not sacred and is unworthy of the great expenditure of time and wealth which we give it as priests of Osiris. The body after death is as the husk of a nut from which the kernel has been extracted and our people would be better off were it burned as the refuse of earth. We of Osiris, who say the body must not perish, know better than anyone else that it does perish. If there is a difference between the body of a man and an animal's, that distinction departs at death; therefore, the distinction is life or a part of life and the questions presented are: What is life? What is there in man besides matter? When an animate being dies, the body, the mortal, is left; life departs. I do not see it go; I know not where it goes. If it is a man who dies, we say the soul has left the body, because we are men; if it is an animal, we say life has left the body. What is the difference between life and the soul? All I know is that I have a body which perishes and that, distinct from the body, I have the power to think, which power troubles me more than my body, and which power I may lose when life leaves the body. My power to think is so limited that its indulgence is like pulling one's self up to the stars by one's toes. I know I cannot answer the following questions:

"'What is truth?' Though I once heard a child of five answer that truth is the right.

"'What is life?' Though I am told it is the principle of animate corporeal existence.

"'What is death?' This I do not know, since I cannot define life, as death is the cessation of life or the beginning of a higher life.

"Since animals think, some more than some men (the feeble-minded), do they have souls? If so, where do their souls go?

"Is the source of new life in the soul?

"It seems we believe souls have existed from the beginning, since they never die but are transmigrated. Is immortality a divine gift or an inherent property of the soul?