“Do I understand them to mean that I shall be defeated in my plans? that I shall not enjoy a part of the wealth which you see about me?”
“You will be defeated, and you will not enjoy the wealth that is about you; unless”—she paused, shook her head, mumbled some unintelligible jargon, as if conversing with the unseen, again shook her head.
“If not a sharer of the wealth you see, what will my fate be, and in what line shall I prosper? Surely you can tell me something about my success in life.”
“Enough has been shown to you. Why persist? But look again, if you will not be advised.”
Again he looked at the screen, and saw dark outlines resolve themselves into shapes. He saw what appeared to be a field of ice and snow, vast and unbroken—terrible in its dreary isolation. It faded, and he turned to the fortune-teller in desperation:
“What has such a scene to do with me?”
“Remorse, remorse! who can tell the end of life?” mumbled the crone, as if in self-communion. At length she seemed to come to herself, and said in clear accents: “If you would let an old woman advise you, I should say choose the right path, no matter what the cost. But men are foolish always, foolish always for a pretty face.”
She touched a bell on the table beside her, and the boy Alphonse came from behind the curtain and gravely motioned the visitor to follow him out.
“For a pretty face,” croaked the parrot, rousing himself from a nap as John left the room. As he descended the stairs the words of the parrot followed him:
“Fools, fools; all men are fools for a pretty face!”
John cursed his own folly in seeking the fortune-teller’s aid as he went slowly back to his office, puzzling over the things he had seen and heard. He was a well-read man, and tried to account for these strange things. He knew from reading, the mediumistic powers of all created things; he knew something of the wonderful agencies of electricity and magnetism. The appliances in the room had suggested magnetism as the medium; “yet,” he argued, “the same phenomena might have been produced by the power of hypnotism.” He knew enough of the latter to practice it in a way for the amusement of his young friends, but had thought himself impervious to its influence.
But with all his reasoning he could not convince himself that there was not an intelligence—invisible and intangible—that had presented to him those soul-disturbing manifestations.
XVII
The Canterbury Club Dinner
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,
Goldsmith
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.
The Canterbury Club of Boston, which held its annual dinner on this particular evening, was composed of the flower of Boston’s literary savans. At the rooms of the club men deep in scientific research touched elbows with the advanced theological scholar and the political economist. Side by side with the vital questions of the hour in the world of progress—wireless telegraphy, the philosophy of trusts, the rise and fall of monarchies, the restoration of Greek art, the philosophy of lynching was beginning to engage the attention of two hemispheres, and information was eagerly sought from every reliable source.
Now it happened that the remarkable ability of Smith in dealing with the acknowledged difficulties of the question had been spoken of to some of the members by the Hon. Herbert Clapp, the president of the club. It had already entertained Doctor Lewis, on account of his great work as an educator among his people, and John Langley because he was an important factor in his line, doing the work necessary to the life of any organization interested in active politics with which men of a delicate moral susceptibility could not be approached. It was voted to invite young Smith to this dinner as a fresh and interesting specimen of the Negro. Many fat contributions found their way annually into the treasury of the African School of Industrial and Agricultural Development, which was under the able management of Doctor Lewis, through the influence of this club. He had accomplished great things; had made himself the center of this terrible human tragedy in the heart of the Black Belt, where the college was situated; but the deadly antagonism of the South made even his iron-hearted stoicism bow to its tyrannical decrees, insomuch that he had been forced to compromise, and the educational advantages allowed the pupils had been curtailed to suit the views of those who placed a low estimate on the ability of the Negro, in spite of the many bright examples of superior intellectual endowments which exist among them. Such ideas as Doctor Lewis set forth in his many brilliant speeches in behalf of his people were logical, and showed a mind capable of grasping the needs of the moment—an infinity of powerful thought under a tyrannous self-suppression.
“One man’s meat is another man’s poison.” The colored people north of Mason and Dixon’s line are conspicuous for their advancement along all the lines which are distinctive features in the formation of the polished exterior of the good citizen of such a republic as ours. Among the best circles of this community are found the highest types of intellectual, moral, religious and social improvement. What becomes of such a class as this when hampered by rules and laws made to fit the needs of the Black Belt? laws of life and living which cannot be forced, and ought not to be forced, upon the large class of colored citizens who embody within themselves the highest development of American citizenship? We believe that the spirit of fair play is not yet
