Jewel Weed

								

that rose above the sound of a thought.
"You think I speak of mysteries!" he demanded, suddenly breaking his
discourse and leaning like a pine tree toward Percival. "You think that
in a closet some one weaves a fantastic theory of life and lives. But
no! What have I told you? What I speak, that has my soul known, as has
many another soul. I tell of astral bodies. I have acquaintance with
them as have you with the body of the young friend who sits beside you.
I could show you--even you, whose eyes are covered with a film--I could
show you! But no! It is too petty to demonstrate by a show."
He moved a step backward and looked in a half-questioning way at the
silent group in front.
"Perhaps," he murmured hesitatingly, "perhaps it is by childish methods
that one must teach the child."
He muttered a few unknown words with his eyes still fixed on guilty Dick
Percival, then he turned to Mr. Early.
"My kind host," he said with a courteous gesture, "will you permit that
I show to the unbelieving young gentleman an astral body?"
He turned and strode away toward dimness dimmer than that of the great
hall, in the direction of that wing where rooms had been assigned him. A
little rustle of pleased anticipation ran through the petticoats of the
room. Interest ceased to be perfunctory and became genuine. This was
more fun than doctrine, after all. Who wouldn't be gratified at the
chance of meeting an astral body--at least in a crowd? Alone, in a dark
room, at midnight, it might prove less enjoyable.
Presently the Hindu returned, carrying in his hand a strangely twisted
retort and something that looked like a primitive brazier.
"Look," he said, "let us take some simple thing. I shall destroy the
body of flesh and show you the body of shadow. I see roses in the
strange jar yonder. You call them American beauties? Yes. Very well, I
shall show you the ghost of an American beauty. Perhaps the unbelieving
young gentleman will pluck one for me."
Dick rose, pulled one of the flowers from among its fellows and handed
it across heads to the Swami, who took it gravely.
"Even this simple form of life," he explained, "has its astral
existence. With seeing eyes it would be visible to you now, hidden
inside the flesh of the flower. In order to make it the plainer, I shall
destroy the body of the blossom and leave its spirit. That spirit you
shall see. Look, I lay this beautiful rose upon this metal plate and
cover it that the heat may be more intense. I consume it with the flame
until the fire devours its shape and leaves only its ashes."
A tense silence fell upon the waiting room, as Ram Juna thrust the
covered rose into the brazier. At last he lifted the cover and displayed
a little gray shapeless heap.
"The rose is dead," he observed quietly. He turned now toward the glass
phial, in the bottom of which lay a few grains of pinkish dust. Into
this he poured the ashes of the burned flower. He lifted it high in air