He was of purely Mexican origin, and his friends delighted in calling him “Señor” Gonzales—as was the custom of the people when Chihuahua was one of the States of “The Republic of Mexico,” a nation long since only known as having existed by reading from the pages of history. The great love and respect constantly shown him by his daily associates proved the exception to the rule that “A prophet is not without honor save in his own country and amongst his own kin.” He was not honored as mankind was honored in the nineteenth century—for his social, political or financial position—but for his moral, intellectual, and spiritual development. Julio Murillo, a fellow student who acted in the capacity of office-man, was a small but well-built typical Mexican, nearing the end of his fifth incarnation. He spent no time regretting his past actions, nor fearing the future. Every moment he lived the best in him, and studied to make “the best” better on the morrow. On the morning our story opens he had finished his regular rounds of tidying the reception-chamber, and was at work in a small alcove room adjoining, on the properties extracted from the sun’s rays, by means of a glass chemical instrument. At the focus the rays were liquidized, separated, and blended into “Memory Fluid.” Although the analysis under way was exceedingly interesting to him, he was not in the least disturbed, when a noise much resembling the faint tingling of a small silver bell announced that he must leave his pleasant occupation and receive some visitor. When he reached the reception-room he stood with his hand upon the knob of the door, which he was about to open to admit a visitor, when a beautiful smile overspread his countenance and he murmured: “It is his Honor.” The door opened noiselessly and a man in every way worthy the name of man stood before him. “Your Honor,” he said, extending his hand in greeting, which was eagerly seized by the visitor, “pass, sir, and be seated; Señor Gonzales will receive you in a very short time. There—the clock is striking the half hour; in fifteen minutes he will be at your Honor’s service. The morning paper, your Honor? Wonderful discoveries in Science, in Art, in Man.” The visitor thanked Julio Murillo as he took the paper, and seating himself in one of the many comfortable chairs in the room, he said: “I have read the paper, sir; others than our kind are no doubt astonished at its contents. There will be more convincing statements made within thirty days. In fact, I believe our evidence will be so strong, that everyone will believe the history of the case and the matter will be forever settled soon. “I am sure _your_ investigations, Julio, will strengthen our case materially. Now, sir, I beg of you to continue your absorbing study, and I will remain here in meditation until Señor Gonzales grants me an interview. One cannot give _too_ much time to thought, so do me the favor not to detain yourself longer.”