“What you see before you iss the sign of the
Great Monad! It iss known in China, in Burmah,
in all Asia, in all Japan. It iss sign of the
great One, of the great Two. In your hand iss
the Tah Gook—the Oriental symbol for life,
for sex. Myself, I haf seen that in Sitka on Chinese
brasses; I haf seen it on Japanese signs, in one land
and in another land. But here you show it to
me made by the hand of some ignorant aborigine of
this continent! On this continent,
where it did not originate and does not belong!
It iss a discovery! Science shall hear of it.
It iss the link of Asia to America. It brings
me fame!”
He put his hand into a pocket, and drew it out half
filled with gold pieces and with raw gold in the form
of nuggets, as though he would offer exchange.
I waved him back. “No,” said I; “you
are welcome to one of these disks, if you please.
If you wish, I will take one little bit of these.
But tell me, where did you find these pieces of raw
gold?”
“Those? They are notings. I recollect
me I found these one day up on the Rogue River, not
far from my cabin. I am pursuing a most beautiful
moth, such as I haf not in all my collection.
So, I fall on a log; I skin me my leg. In the
moss I find some bits of rock. I recollect me
not where, but believe it wass somewhere there.
But what I find now, here, by a stranger—it
iss worth more than gold! My friend, I thank you,
I embrace you! I am favored by fate to meet you.
Go with you to Washington? Yess, yess, I go!”
THE MISSING SLIPPER
There will always remain
something to be said of woman as long as
there is one on earth.—Bauflers.
My new friend, I was glad to note, seemed not anxious
to terminate our acquaintance, although in his amiable
and childlike fashion he babbled of matters which
to me seemed unimportant. He was eager to propound
his views on the connection of the American tribes
with the peoples of the Orient, whereas I was all
for talking of the connection of England and the United
States with Oregon. Thus we passed the luncheon
hour at the hostelry of my friend Jacques Bertillon;
after which I suggested a stroll about the town for
a time, there being that upon my mind which left me
ill disposed to remain idle. He agreed to my suggestion,
a fact for which I soon was to feel thankful for more
reasons than one.
Before we started upon our stroll, I asked him to
step to my own room, where I had left my pipe.
As we paused here for a moment, he noticed on the
little commode a pair of pistols of American make,
and, with a word of apology, took them up to examine
them.
“You also are acquainted with these?”
he asked politely.
“It is said that I am,” I answered.
“Sometimes you need to be?” he said, smiling.
There smote upon me, even as he spoke, the feeling
that his remark was strangely true. My eye fell
on the commode’s top, casually. I saw that
it now was bare. I recalled the strange warning
of the baroness the evening previous. I was watched!
My apartment had been entered in my absence. Property
of mine had been taken.
