I open my eyes to see Savant added to the circle, he was called, may be, at my faint. But what is strange, he seems to know where I had spiritually gone, and more, is expecting some revelation from me. I only slowly shake my head, when he abruptly turns away. My new spiritual power says of him, “He is the greatest of living men.” I note where he disappears to sometime search him out. The new telepathic condition I had suddenly gone into does not entirely leave me. But takes a new form, that of outwardly statue or marble state. Seeming cold and rigid to others, I see intuitively into their minds, read their thoughts and wishes. I am conscious at times of miraculous ability, as though I could put forth my hand, and command omniscient like. As Robet tenderly teaches us Arc ways and diversions, I see the adaptation in foreknowledge, and surprise her and the rest, so that they are getting an awe of me, and are carefully respectful of my person. [Illustration: Decoration] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ “In the depths” Mae goes out everywhere, often alone, finding the new ways and amusements of the city. When she finds one she thinks I will enjoy, she hurries home all out of breath to take me or tell me. She has been hunting around the halls to-day, as if there were hidden mysteries close by. I do believe she has found one. Her hair flying and eyes dancing, I go to meet her, to see what it is; getting some emotion in my own frame. “Come in here, Auntie.” In there I go, like a lamb. It is a glass entry of some sort. (I will stop to explain what I call glass, as it is not exactly, but some transparency quite serving the purpose.) Mae pulls certain knobs and lets in what——water! “Auntie, this is bathday. We have on bath rigs. Put on this helmet with its tubes above for breathing.” I do so, as the water deepens. She opens a gate now, and a flood rushes in, and takes us off our feet, which we regain by use of our elastic breathing tubes. We pass through the gate to all the glories of the sea. A sea bath—sea mosses under our feet, shells piled in heaps, fern trees waving. Mae dashes out and hides from view. I discover her, but cannot hold her with my wet hands. We hear a song. In the door of a crystal grotto stands a mermaid. “Come into my bower, and I will give you amber. I am a sister of seven who combs her long hair in the deep.” Ascending steps of dainty harpshell, we tread an anemone carpet where is a crowd of people. Games are in order on rock ruby stands, in which I become engrossed, as a “sister” plays a cameo-mandolin; another singing a rollicking song of the sea, ending in sobs, for those who come down in ships. There is sea-dancing—liquid symphony. I see Charley in his native element, precluding tears or weeping for joy.