His father studied the stars and read lives from the palms of men's hands. His grandfather did the same. He came from a race of wise men. The first seers of his family sat in the shade of the early sphinxes and told Egyptian maidens to beware of young men who came up from the Red sea with false promises. But his fortune-telling was of the same kind as one finds everywhere. A young man paid the price and held out his hand. The wise man took hold of the fingers, bent them back from the hand and pushed the cuff half way back to the elbow. He traced the course of the veins, ran his coal-black finger along each wrinkle of the palm, and all the time muttered to himself. Sometimes he nodded his head and gurgled approvingly. Again he hesitated and groaned feebly, as if the signs were sad. The young man had a scared look in his eyes. Then the interpreter began to tell what the aged seer had to say: "He says that you had sickness. It was not long ago. You were afraid. But it's all right. You won't be sick any more. Have health, good health. Feel good all time. Don't be afraid." "I'm glad to hear it," said the young man. "Before you worked where you do now you had another kind of work. You did something else. You will change. Not the same kind of work next time. No, no. You will have good time. A man will give you work. It is different from what you do now. He is short, fat, very rich man. Go with him. You will do well, make money--lots of money. Fat man will make you have better clothes." "Well, what's the matter with these I've----," began the young man, but the interpreter hushed him. "He says you must stay in Chicago, good place. If you travel you will not have as much money as you will have when you get with the fat man. You must stay here if you want to be rich and have good clothes. Aha! this is very good. Put your head near. He says you are very warm-hearted, like all of the women. Yes, yes, that's it, you love one in particular, your wife or some one. He wants to know who it is you love." "I am not married," said the young man. "He says," resumed the interpreter, "that it's all right." "All right, eh?" "Yes, you will marry her, but not this year." "How long do you think you will live?" "Give it up." "You will live to be 87. He says so." That was all, and the puzzled young man arose to go away. "How was it? How was it?" asked all the women who had been looking on and marveling. "I'll tell you," said the young man. "The past and present are both a little cloudy, but the future is all that any one could ask." Then he started away, keeping a sharp lookout for a fat man who seemed to be rich. At the end of the street is the Temple of Luxor, where the curious pass under the deity-covered portal, and gaze upon the reproduced wonders of ancient Egypt. They bend over withered mummies of kings dead 5,000 years ago, and listen to music that has not been played for ages.