Adoni and Martha seemed to sense, that the life cord was still unbroken, and nearly suspended their own breathing, as almost imperceptible whispers again fell upon their straining ears!

"I will guide and, - watch over you, - my love will protect you - always - . Adoni - ! Martha - ! Your father is taking me away - good-bye!"

Silently, - and tearless, brother and sister reached for her hand, and pressed the last kiss upon her brow! "Until we meet again mother - farewell!"

The radiance of a heavenly light, seemed to form a halo around the mother's head, - a last flutter of the eyelids, - and over her features came a look of perfect tranquillity and final rest.

"What a grand release," exclaimed the old doctor, who had risen and moved close to where the brother and sister were standing hovering over the body whose spirit had flown with her companion into - "a better world," where, he had patiently awaited her coming for many years.

How sacred! How holy and solemn! Too deep for portrayal to those that fear death, and do not realize that this change from a tenement of clay, is but the re-birth into a spiritual life, where there is no more sorrow nor pain.

"Oh, Martha!" breathed Adoni fervently, "If only all the world could understand how glorious is this change we ail call death."

Martha met his look reverently! "You will teach it, brother, and preach it everywhere - this knowledge we possess of the 'life beyond the grave.' It would be sacrilege to grieve for mother, though I shall miss her sorely - I know she will be so happy with father." With tender solicitude Martha arranged the bed covering upon the still form, and silently left the chamber.

The next day Aunt Martha came from the village, and made ail arrangements for the burial. A few friends of long standing came in and joined with Martha and Adoni in singing Mrs. Bourd-aione's favorite songs, after which the casket was placed in an old-fashioned open carriage. The day was cloudless, and the journey to the little graveyard was made without the dismal trapping of woe. No hearse, no black-veiled mourners, no long procession. A simple prayer at the grave, a few flowers from their mother's garden dropped upon the bier, another song, and they bade farewell to ail that was mortal of a dearly beloved mother.

Upon returning home from the churchyard, Adoni read the letter which his mother had referred to. It contained explicit directions for reaching the remote abode of the Adept. He read the earnest request of his mother, which was almost a command, and which he had promised on her death-bed, to obey. Despite his lack of enthusiasm he had resolved to follow the dictations of her soul, and go to the land of mysteries; there within the majestic silence of the mountains he would master the wisdom of forgotten ages.

The next morning Adoni arose at the dawn of day, strolling through the near-by woodlands, and the dear old garden where he had spent his boyhood years. He had left his home fifteen years before, to enter the great "school of life" where ever since he had battled with many serious problems, many times stumbling and falling in apparent defeat.

But as his vision grew clearer, he would again arise with courage and greater strength, realizing that in the eternal progress of all things he was permitted to touch the stepping stones to the realm of higher things.

Thus, walking along in deepest meditation, Adoni heard the voice of Martha calling him to breakfast.

After they had finished an enjoyable meal, brother and sister embraced each other in a loving farewell, Adoni promising to return from the mystic regions the following year. With another kiss upon Martha's quivering lips, and a warm hand clasp from the dear old aunt, Adoni departed.

It was late in the evening when he reached the parsonage. The servant awaited him and prepared dinner at once.

"Is Mrs. Bourdalone at home?" inquired Adoni.

"No, sir, she left the city the day after you went away."

"Thank you; that is all I wish to know. You can serve my lunch in the breakfast room."

With these orders the servant left him alone. Alone with his innermost thoughts, known to none but God and himself. After dining in solitary state, he entered his study, and before going over the huge pile of accumulated mail, heaped upon his desk, he glanced over the evening paper of the previous day.

Suddenly he was surprised to find a sensational account of the "Electric shock the beautiful bride of Clarence Vallero received in the storm," which the attending physician, Dr. Graham, feared would result in cerebral fever, but the critical stage had been safely passed, and the patient's condition no longer serious, etc.

It was with a strange conflict of emotions that Adoni read this glowing account - staring into vacancy - wondering how much truth the newspaper story contained. After deliberating a few moments, he arose and rang the phone of the Ralston home long and insistently but received no response. He then called the office of Dr. Graham, who answered immediately, and confirmed the report of the paper. Adoni asked if he might be permitted to visit the patient. The doctor assured him that while he would be glad to grant his request, he could not make an exception in his favor, having forbidden ail except the nurse to enter the sick room. Adoni thanked him kindly, saying that he would take the liberty to call again the following day.

With these thoughts he consoled himself and with an effort proceeded with his work but found it difficult to concentrate his mind upon his correspondence. He finally brushed the letters aside, thinking that if he could not see Truth, he might at least give her an absent treatment.

In the depths of silence he sat, knowing not how long, sending on magnetic thought waves: God's healing power of love.

The hour was late when Adoni retired. He fell asleep, with his last prayer for Truth,

"Make not thyself the judge of any man."