The Argosy for May — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

il young man. IT IS THE o’-the-wisp to me, though he’s anything but such to others. ‘But, tell me, have you ever heard of such a case? Am I losing my mind? Can you help me?” Chanedra rose languidly and stepped over to where a ponderous volume lay open upon a small table. ‘Where were you born?” he asked as he turned the pages. “I was born in Philadelphia.” ‘When? Be exact as to time.” “The morning of July 26, 1873.” For a full five minutes the seer con- sulted the page; then he turned slowly upon his caller and said: “There is little I can do for you, But I can help you to understand the most unfortunate circum- stances under which you were born.” “How? What?” the other cried eagerly. “Well, it happened that upon the morning of the 25th of July of that very year, and in the self-same city of Phila- delphia, this ‘other’ you speak of was born. You see the significance, don’t you? The same stars ruled the planets at that time; and so the same destinies will be yours. But with this exception —he has twenty-four hours start of you! ”’ MAN. sol ‘You must be mistaken. You're chaf- fing me. How do you know when the fellow was born, anyway? A-ha, now I’ve got you!” “Have you? Well, it appears that again he had the head start of you; for | in this very room, at this-very hour last night, I gave him a reading and advised him to propose to the girl.” ‘Great Heaven! And 1? Must I go through my entire life doing the things this scoundrel does on the following day?” “I see no other way,” answered the seer compassionately. “Then [ll kill myself!’ cried the miserable-young man. : “I’m afraid even that is denied you,” answered Chanedra calmly, “for, as he happens to have achieved the object of his heart, and sees a happy life before him, it seems to me that he will be the last man to commit suicide. Of course, you understand that he must do the deed the day before you can ever hope to carry out the purpose.” Then it was, on that instant, that the visitor dashed madly out into the mid- night; while Chanedra, the astrologer, folded another dollar bill among the others, winked at the telescope, and __ crawled into bed, IT IS THE MAN. By MARIE B. SCHRADER. A story about two men and a woman, with an experiment in boat-sailing as an important episode in the game. “Y UST what I wanted.” Edward Grant threw down the letter, but quickly picked it up again, and read it over again carefully. : “Talk about the force of thought, and all that sort of thing, I would like to know how you explain this,’”’ he said to the friend who was whiling away an hour of a dull afternoon in idle chat. “What is it?’ inquired the visitor. ‘A prospective sale of property?” ‘‘T wish it were,’’ answered the real- estate man. ‘‘ Not business. Pleasure pure and simple, and I mean to forget that there is such a word as ‘ property.’ ”’ “ Easily said,” returned his compan- ion, “but in times like the present it is, I fear, a subject which ean’t readily be dismissed.” “Business is dull,” went on Grant; “and that’s one reason why I am glad to escape for a while from the worry of it. For several days I have been think- ing of leaving town, but hadn’t settled upon a definite plan. I tried to remem- ber where my different friends spend their week-ends, but couldn’t locate a single one of them. Just when I had about determined to remain at home along comes this invitation. It’s from ‘ COnniclooolkxs