"'Their's not to reason why,Their's but to do or die.'
"'Their's not to reason why,Their's but to do or die.'
And they done it!
"On, on, like more than Spartan heroes, on they dashed, literally, as absolutely as anything earthly can be, 'into the jaws of death—into the mouth of hell.' I have a minnie bullet on my table that plowed a furrow through a brother's heart of mine in that same dreadful valley! Away they went—that gallant band, that gallant man; and many a bullet went crashing through skulls and bones as they went; and many a soul sped its way to God ere the cohort reached the knoll in the valley. Once there, they were no longer men—they were as sublime exemplar gods. But a man fell—fell before the resistless force of a hundred horses charging with all of Treason's vehement strength, and the gallant man went down, and the thunder of iron hoofs exploded in his ear, and then the cloud passed on.
"And Thomas Clark went down—down, as Truth, and Justice and I went down; but he rose again—so ever does Truth and Justice; and as for me,Je renais de mes cendres—let those beware by whom I fell.... Down to the gory soil he went; but even while the woman sat there in the grotto, gazing till her eyeballs fairly ached with intensity—sat gazing with suppressed breath, so still was she—sat gazing, her blood on fire, her pulse beating three hundred to the minute, beating with a deep, fierce, tumultuous fire; sat gazing stilly, while her heart bounded and thumped within its bony citadel as if impatient of its duress, and longing to burst its tabernacle, and let the imprisoned soul go free; sat gazing, while her eyes, large grey eyes, all the while gleamed with a light that proved her capable of giving birth to heroes—even while thus she gazed on the wheeling squadrons, the charging hosts, and the great guns, as they gave forth their fiery vomit, charged with sudden deaths—the man, Tom Clark, sprung to his feet again, and, as he staunched his blood with one hand, he pointed with the other at the foe. 'Follow me!' he cried. 'See! we are reinforced! On to victory—on!' And his voice rose above the tempest, and it flew over the spaces, and it fell upon the ears of a 'great man,' and the 'great man' wrung his hands, and he thought: 'Not dead yet! Damn the fellow! He will make us win a victory—and that'll never do! Dear me! that cursed fool will spoil my little game! Oh, for night, or a fresh division of—the enemy! I must reinforce him, though, else it'll get into that infernalTribune—or into that cursed George Wilkes' paper—and that'll spoil my little game! Ho, there! Aid, go tell General Trueman to reinforce Colonel Thomas W.My little game!' and he arranged his epaulettes and gave his moustache an additional killing twist. In the meantime, Tom Clark had charged the enemy with bayonets with the remnant of his own force, followed by hundreds whom his example had transformed into something more sublime than fighting soldiers.
"And now occurred one of those conflicts which make or mar the fortunes of a nation: one of those terrible multi-personal combats which mark a century's history, and strike the ages dumb with awe; one of those terrific scenes in the world's great drama, that mark historic epochs, and enshrine men's names in fiery letters upon the scrolls of Fame.
"The charge and the action were short, sharp, swift, desperate; but at its close the
"'Flag of the Planet gems,With saphire-circled diadems,'
"'Flag of the Planet gems,With saphire-circled diadems,'
floated proudly over the scene of Treason's battle lost—a Nation's battle won!
"Day closes again; and the wounded hero in an ambulance was borne fainting—almost dying, from the field. 'Colonel Clark, can I do anything for you?' said one of the fighting generals to the stricken man—a bullet had gone through him. 'You are a noble fellow, and I speak for myself, your comrades in arms, and for our country. Can I—can they, can we, can she—do anything for you, in this sad hour of your destiny? If so, I beg you to speak.'
"'Alas! no, my friend,' replied he, reviving, only to swoon again. A little cold water on his temples partially dissipated the coma, but not all the fog from his perceptions; for his general's words, 'Canshe,' considerably obfuscated his intellect, and he thought: 'He means Betsey—that's the onlysheI know of.' And then he strengthened up for a last dying effort; strove to collect his thoughts, partly succeeded, and said: 'Nothing more, dear general. Yes. No. I'm—dy—ing—going—home. Tell Betsey—dearBetsey—I did not—find her out till—it was—too—late. Tell her that I loved—her from my—soul—at last. Tell her—that'——
"She can't stand the pressure any longer—globe or no globe, hermit or no hermit—not another minute.YouBet! It's a pretty how de do, me a settin' here, and poor Tom laying there, killed a'most to death!' shrieked the fair girl in the grotto of the hermit of the silver girdle, waked up beyond endurance by the skillful magic of the weird recluse. And repeating the Californian, 'YouBet!' with vehement emphasis on the last word, she sprung to her feet, in spite of the warnings of the man who dealt in magic crystal globes in the precincts of a forest wild—upsetting table, tripod, stool and hermit, in her eagerness to reach Tom's side and give him wifely ministry.
"What luck she might have had in bridging Phantom River I know not, having omitted to remain long enough for inquiry, not having had time to thus devote; but this I do know, namely, that she nearly kicked the veritable Mr. Thomas W. Clark completely out of bed—the bed at whose foot was a window, whose upper sash was down—the identical window through which came all the 'funny things' of this most veracious history, which, of course, is all true. Betsey woke from excitement, Tom from being kicked, and both had finished their double dreams.
"'What'n thunder's up now, Bet—no, Lizzie, I mean?' said he, checking the less respectful utterance, and modulating his voice to what he doubtless intended to be a 'velvet-dulcet cadence,' but which wouldn't pass for that in Italian opera. 'Not nothing, Tommy, dear.' 'Not nothing, Lizzie?' 'Not nothing.' 'That ain't grammar, sweet.' 'I was paragorically speaking, my turkle dove! Only I've been having two very funny dreams.' 'You!Twodreams? Thatisqueer!' 'You Bet!' 'What about, Lizzie?' 'Oh, all about how we didn't love each other as we ought to, husband.' 'And, dorg on my buttons, wife, if I haven't had two just such dreams myself—all about a precipice, and a pile—Oh, wasn't it a pile, though?' 'You Bet!' 'And my dreams were all about how I ought to love you, and didn't—and then, again, I did.' 'That's a dear!' 'You Bet!' 'Let's love each other this time out, willyou?' 'I will; willyou?' 'YouBet!' 'Let's profit by our dreams. I mean to; won't you?' 'I'lltry!' 'I'lltry!' 'We'll both try!' 'YouBet!' And they tried to forgive and forget.
"Will you do the same?" asked the Rosicrucian of the "Angular Character," who had told his own story in disguise. The latter saw that his secret was out; yet his heart was touched, for, as a great tear-drop rolled down his cheek, he said, with smothered breath, the holy words—"I'll try!" "Amen!" said the Rosicrucian. "Amen!" said we all; and then, turning to his auditors again, the story-teller said: "Friends, go thou and do likewise; and so long as you live, I charge you never to forget the Rosicrucian nor his story; norIt, the Shadow; nor Hesperina, the Light; nor Otanethi, the Genius of the Hour; nor the silver-girdled Hermit, and his Crystal Globe in a forest wild; nor, above all, the little window at the foot of the bed, whose upper sash was down."
A day or two afterwards we reached Panama, and after that we saw but little of our entertainer; but before I finally lost sight of him he told me that he was about writing some Rosicrucian stories, the MSS. of which he would send to me when ready. I have received some, and they will be published by me as soon as I can spare time to attend to it, which will be—
"When this cruel war is over"P. B. R.Utica,November, 1863.
"When this cruel war is over"P. B. R.Utica,November, 1863.
[1]The same known historically as Thothmes, or Thotmor the Third, King of all Egypt, in the 18th dynasty, and sixty-ninth Chief or Grand Master of the Superlative Order of Gebel Al Maruk—since known, in Christian lands, as the Order of the Brethren of the Rosie Cross, and now known in America and Europe, where it still thrives, as the Imperial Order of Rosicrucia.
[1]The same known historically as Thothmes, or Thotmor the Third, King of all Egypt, in the 18th dynasty, and sixty-ninth Chief or Grand Master of the Superlative Order of Gebel Al Maruk—since known, in Christian lands, as the Order of the Brethren of the Rosie Cross, and now known in America and Europe, where it still thrives, as the Imperial Order of Rosicrucia.
[2]Extremes meet. The sublime impinges on the ridiculous. The substance of the text—save only that I have changed the names—was put forth seriously as truth, by a recent British author. Here, of course, it is given for what it is worth, which may bemore than some imagine. Viewed in one light, these notions are almost as absurd as are the desperately-funny lucubrations of Andrew Jackson Davis, concerning what he calls the "Summer Land," which many people regard as true revelations of Man'spost-mortemlife, when, in fact, they are monstrous abortions, devoid of even common sense, and are without one particle of truth from beginning to end.
[2]Extremes meet. The sublime impinges on the ridiculous. The substance of the text—save only that I have changed the names—was put forth seriously as truth, by a recent British author. Here, of course, it is given for what it is worth, which may bemore than some imagine. Viewed in one light, these notions are almost as absurd as are the desperately-funny lucubrations of Andrew Jackson Davis, concerning what he calls the "Summer Land," which many people regard as true revelations of Man'spost-mortemlife, when, in fact, they are monstrous abortions, devoid of even common sense, and are without one particle of truth from beginning to end.
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It is sufficient to say of the following seven Works, that they are from the pen of P. B. Randolph, to command such a sale as few books enjoy in these days.
A ROSICRUCIAN ROMANCE, AND THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY AND THRILLING WORK EVER PUBLISHED IN THIS COUNTRY.
Contents:—The Strange Man.—The Legend.—Preëxistence.—Double Life.—The Haunted House.—The Mysterious Guest.—A very Strange Story.—Evlambéa.—A Son of Adam and a Daughter of Ish.—Napoleon III. and the Rosicrucian.—An extraordinary Séance in Paris.—Spectra.—Phosphorus and the Elixir of Life.—The Magic Mirror.—Who was he?—What was it?—The Secret of Perpetual Youth!—The Priest of Fire.—The Magic Slumber.—Strange Revelations.—Confession.—The Magic Pictures.—"And several other Worlds!"—Very curious.—An Astounding Chapter!—Singular Experiment.—"A Man goes in a Cab in search of his own Ghost!"—A Strange Wager.—Mystery thickens.—Deeper and Deeper.—Murder will out.—The Devil in Paris.—Diablerie extraordinary.—"The Saucer on the Floor." What some Folks believe are Spirits!—An Astounding Disclosure!—The Grand Secret.—A Theory demolished.—Ravalette explains.—The Sleep, and a Revelation of the Destinies of Nations, a chapter so extraordinary that it alone is worth the price of the whole book.
Being the Third Thousand of the celebratedROSICRUCIAN'S STORY.
Demonstrating Human Existence 100,000 years ago, and that Adam was not the First Man.
"When the gude Laird was making Adam, even then the clan Grant was as thick and numerous as the heather on yon hills."—Bailey Grant.
Universally conceded by the Press of two countries, to be—
"A remarkable book." "We hail this shot from the Fort of Truth!... Shows that men built cities 35,000 years ago!... Extra valuable volume." "Great grasp of thought!...ProvesAdam wasnotthe first man, nor anything like it!... Engrossingly interesting.... Soul-stirring and grand beyond description!" "The Author exhibits a profound reverence for the truths of Scripture, but a still profounder one for Truth herself. Dissent we may to some things, yet on the whole, we commend the work to the favorable attention particularly of the learned world."
"A remarkable book." "We hail this shot from the Fort of Truth!... Shows that men built cities 35,000 years ago!... Extra valuable volume." "Great grasp of thought!...ProvesAdam wasnotthe first man, nor anything like it!... Engrossingly interesting.... Soul-stirring and grand beyond description!" "The Author exhibits a profound reverence for the truths of Scripture, but a still profounder one for Truth herself. Dissent we may to some things, yet on the whole, we commend the work to the favorable attention particularly of the learned world."
The Human Soul—What it is; whence it came; its location in the body; its passage through death; whither it goes after death; what it does; how it lives! Marriage in the Soul-world! Offspring there! Eating, drinking, sleeping after we are dead! Do Souls occupy space? Does a Soul feel heat, cold, get wet in a storm? What becomes of dead children?—of idiots?—lunatics?—premature births? Heaven! Hell!—their nature and location, with scores of equally important and profound questions, are all answered in this most extraordinary and entirely original volume.
A thorough and complete summing up of the system, showing its true nature and vividly depicting its effects upon the minds, bodies, morals and characters of all its adherents, by one who had a thorough experience of ten years of, and in it.
The great Sensation Tale. Embracing the celebrated and quite extraordinary "Miranda Theory."By Dr. P. B. Randolph.
N.B. The above two books are especially valuable by reason of the flood of light thrown on the modern phenomena usually attributed to "spirits."
Being an Answer to, and refutation of, the modern doctrine that "Whatever is is right." The book is an eloquent defence of Marriage, and embraces an appeal for the poor prostitute against the villainous wiles of those who make her what she is. Nothing in the language speaks more forcibly for fallen woman than this rare pamphlet.
It is doubtful if any List of Modern Works by a single author can surpass in variety, interest, scope or power, that above presented. The volumes are well worth perusal. All orders for them, or any books published by this house, or any other, will be promptly filled, whether for single copies or in quantities.
SINCLAIR TOUSEY.
This, the largest and most perfect book of the kind in the world, in any language, has been enlarged till it now contains the enormous number ofThree Thousand Solutions of Three Thousand Dreams! It is utterly impossible to have any sort of Dream; the interpretation and meaning of which is not contained in this very curious book. It also embraces the famous Persian "Pfal," whereby these Orientals tell their own and each others fortunes by means of the numbers thrown with three dice. As a source of amusement, and instruction too, this book is unsurpassed.