Charles Frederick Holder.

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place with a Miss Delia Admen, of
Helena, Montana, who, it is said,
gets accurate spirit likenesses of the
friends of whoever will send her a
lock of their hair. A Mrs. Carter,
of San Francisco, advertises to take
these photographs, but as the writer
has never investigated her work, he
is not prepared to express an opinion
concerning it, other than that some
specimens he has seen look quite
similar to Keeler's work which Dr.
Coues has exhibited. If the reader
will thoroughly scan and weigh the
facts and testimony already given, a
further presentation will be super-
fluous. One such photograph as that
of the writer's mother ought to " set-
tle the question" be3'ond doubt in
every reasoning mind, and cumula-
tive facts by the thousand which can
be added are useless to convince
those who "having eyes see not," be-
cause they will not. Every true
scientist and philosopher and every
Christian ought to rejoice that sci-
ence and art have now so wonderfully
combined to demonstrate objectively
the fundamental claim of all relig-
ions, that man has a substantial ex-
istence after so-called death.



TAM.' :



BY LILLIAN E. PURDY.

Would that a man would arise in me,
That the 'woman' I am might cease to be."



SEATED around a rough table in
a small log cabin were the
forms of four persons whose at-
tention seemed riveted upon a few
cards that lay before them. The
flame from a single candle furnished
the only means of light in the room,
and but for an occasional exclamation
or chink of money one would have
thought the apartment unoccupied.

My brother and I had been belated
in the forest while on one of our long
journeys in the Sierras, and were
now enjoying the kind hospitality of
an old miner and his son, whose
cabin we had discerned through the
thick timber when at a considerable
distance away. They gave us a
hearty welcome, provided a supper
for us, and then invited us to join in
a game of cards.

Our host was a genial fellow, full
of life and cheerfulness. His long
white beard and silver hair harmo-
nized well with the soft brown eyes
and even contour of his features.
His generous spirit prompted him to
offer us unhesitatingly the best his
board could supply, the most com-
fortable seat his cabin could afford.

The younger man was presumably
of a different character. He was
tall, lean, and lank, and his ungainly,
crab-like hands clutched avariciousl) r
at the coins whenever he held the
winning cards. His keen, searching
eyes, which I felt fastened upon me,
aroused my suspicion at once, and I
thought almost the instant I met his
inquisitive gaze, " What if he should
find me out?" But fear is not a part
of my nature, so I soon succeeded in
banishing the suspicion from my
mind, and continued to win the little



pile of coins that glittered on the
rude table.

It is surprising with what fortune
I play cards. Mine is always the
winning hand. With no difficulty at
all, the stakes always come to me.

Whenever I spoke, which I tried
seldom to do, I noticed his piercing
eyes flash, a shadow steal over his
dark, malicious countenance. Yes, I
surely am detected. My voice be-
trays me, although my short hair,
rather large features, and masculine
manners are a good disguise. There
is not one in a hundred who could
know that I am a woman!

The male attire which I have worn
for the past year has become so
much a part of me that my brother,
Vance, is often led to say, "Tarn,
you fill your clothes like a man."
However well I fill them, I try to
make them appear like those worn
by the mountaineers.

A pair of dark corduroy trousers,
supported at the waist by a buckskin
belt, are tucked into my yellow,
laced hunting -boots. Above this,
I wear a light flannel shirt, and my
crowning glory is a tan sombrero
with a band formed by a rattlesnake
skin, a relic of one of the many snakes
I have killed.

A Colt revolver is my nearest com-
panion, and is carried in my hip-
pocket. More than once it has saved
me from the attack of wild animals
who have always fallen at my shot,
for my aim never fails, my hand is
wonderfully steady, and my judg-
ment of distance accurate. The best
mountaineers have been amazed at
my shooting, and have been forced
to speak a word of praise.



860



TAM."



861



I remember that one time, during
a tramp, we chanced into a town in
which a shooting-gallery seemed to
be the chief attraction. Several
groups of idlers loitered about, ob-
serving the game that ensued between
two or three blundering marksmen,
when Vance, proud of my unnatural
superiority in the masculine sports
and pastimes, proposed that I should
have a hand in the game. I shot,
and lo! could ever marksman have
made a more clever hit!

"Hurrah for you, Tarn!" shouted
Vance enthusiastically, and in an in-
stant the voices of the men rang out
in a mighty chorus of cheers for
"Tarn."

My brother Vance is a good-natured
fellow, strong, hearty, not particu-
larly intelligent, and, like the family
into which I was born, quite ordinary.
I shall not bore you with a descrip-
tion of him, for he is only a fair sam-
ple of the majority of his sex.

But to return to the cabin in which
you first found me: after several
games of cards, in which I won all
the stakes, Vance and I spread our
blankets in separate corners of the
cabin allotted to us by our host. At
daylight we rose, rolled our blankets
and lashed them on our pack-mule,
then turned our attention to the mules
we rode. My sturdy little animal
fairly howled under the pressure of
the cinch, as I jammed my knee into
him and pulled the latigo strap with
all the strength I could command.
After shaking hands with our host,
who, with bland, smiling, sunburnt
face stood without the cabin door,
and after nodding to the dark-browed
son, I swung into the saddle and
spurred up the hill, leaving Vance to
attend to the pack-animal and follow,
as was the custom. Somehow, as
this all happened, a vivid recollec-
tion came to me of a former experi-
ence similar in nature; yet my hu-
man memory can recall nothing coin-
cidental.

Now, you may wonder at the rov-
ing, unwomanly life I lead. But it



is through a perfect uncongeniality
with everything that pertains to
woman, my sympathy only for that
which is masculine — in short, my
mannish nature, strong, robust physi-
cal frame, and unfeminine tastes —
all these have led me to pursue the
life of the forest instead of that of
"the city," for which I have been
trained and educated. Perhaps my
natural aptitude for study and my
early display of a sort of mysterious
knowledge rather awed my parents
into allowing me a college education.
However this may be, I was well
educated, while my athletic tenden-
cies were constantly crushed until
my very existence was one of unrest,
dissatisfaction, torture. And so final-
ly, like a bird freed from its cage,
I flew with my brother to my element,
the mountains, where, in order to
escape comments and hampering
from skirts, I assumed the disguise
of a man, and travelled many a jolly
mile through the densest forest and
most deserted wilds. Yet am I re-
membering, remembering !

We climbed to the top of a ridge
of pine-covered mountains, and had
begun to descend the almost perpen-
dicular height on the opposite side.
My sure-footed Ajax slipped, the
saddle-girth broke, and before I had
time to collect my thoughts, I plunged
forward over the animal's head and
landed twenty feet beyond, rolling a
few feet farther until I reached some-
thing to which I might cling.

"Tarn, oh, Tamarack!" screamed
my brother in a huge tone, which
sent my mountain name echoing and
re-echoing through the canyons.

"All right," I returned fearlessly,
for I was merely surprised and not
even "shaken up" by the fall.

Vance was by my side when I re-
turned to faithful Ajax, who stood
transfixed on the spot.

I raised the saddle from the ground,
slung it over my shoulder, and led
Ajax down the mountain to the can-
yon below, where repairs were soon
made and our journey resumed,



862



TAM."



That evening we camped in a small
grove of maples that spread their
umbrageous branches protectingly
about us, intercepting the strong
moonlight that fell in patches be-
neath. How delicious the calm,
clear, moonlight night, with only
the trees and the stars for a canopy,
the mossy bank for a bed !

Inconsistent as it may seem (though
I am inconsistency itself), I have
formed the habit of carrying in my
pocket a note-book and pencil, which
I use in giving vent to the throng of
thoughts that crowd my mental gaze,
of massive stone bridges, colossal
arches, and last and most prominent,
spacious arenas, full of the odor of deli-
cate perfumes, sweet strains of music
floating in the air, while men clad in
armor march in pairs before an excited
populace. The signal is given — the
gladiators begin the combat. Em-
perors, magistrates, and scholars are
among the combatants. One stout,
muscular man seems always to tower
above the others in strength, for every
one falls under his mighty hand.
Deafening shouts from the frenzied
people only encourage his bloody
work. I am filled with fire — the
vision is too real, I can look no
longer! Then a sad, sweet voice
continually whispers in my ear a
song of a better life, a lesson of some-
thing true, something infinite. I
think deeply and long ; and the more
I meditate, the more definite do my
thoughts become. And what seems
stranger, nothing is altogether new,
for I am apparently picking up only
what seems to belong to me by na-
ture. Now I use my book for jotting
down all that comes to me by vision
or by what appears to be " memory"
or a "recollecting." I employ only
the evening for this kind of occupa-
tion — when Vance lies lazily near
our roaring camp-fire thinking, or,
more likely, dozing.

The moon was so strong, the air so
warm, that the small fire we made
for preparing our supper sufficed for
the night. I gave myself up to rev-



ery until a late hour, when, over-
come with sleep, I "turned in."

Following our rule, we left the
grove of maples just at the break of
day. On and on we travelled, riding
our patient mules, with little of in-
terest to mark the day, until, emerg-
ing from a thicket of dense under-
growth, I saw a panther crouched
about ten yards before me, just about
to spring, his eyes gleaming like two
balls of fire. With the rapidity of
lightning I stopped my mule, reached
for my rifle, which I had that morn-
ing swung across my shoulder with
the anticipation of killing some game
for dinner, took rapid aim and fired.
One terrific cry, and the animal lay
dead before me. The bullet had
passed through the left eye, pene-
trating the head. I had dismounted
from my mule and was examining
my victim, when Vance came up.

" Hello, Tam, what have you
there?" he asked, eying the panther
that lay sprawled upon the ground.

" Only a panther, " I laughed, " that
would have put an end to your Tam
if she had not taken your advice and
carried her rifle."

We camped at this point and pre-
pared a noonday meal. In the mid-
dle of the afternoon we proceeded
onward, never ceasing our rather
rapid pace until darkness surrounded
us, when, 'mid the grateful cool of
the evening, we partook of a light
supper in a shady nook and built a
cheerful log fire.

The warmth and comfort of our
new camp soon overpowered Vance,
who fell into a doze before we had
been seated ten minutes. I was
writing.

A rustle of leaves behind caused
me unconsciously to drop my pencil,
place my hand upon my hip-pocket,
and turn my eyes in the direction of
the sound.

"Vance," I whispered, when the
noise grew nearer and nearer every
instant.

Accustomed to rousing himself at
the slightest provocation, Vance



{



TAM.



863



Opened his eyes and was on his feet
instantly.

We peered forth into the darkness,
but could discern nothing.

"Excuse me," at length spoke a
rather gentle voice, as a man finally
appeared before us. " I have lost
my way. Can you tell me what
direction N — ■ — is from here?"

"You are 'way off the track," re-
plied Vance quickly, at the same
time scanning the stranger from head

to foot. " N is twenty miles

south of here."

"Thank you," said the man, and
was just about to turn away, when
Vance interrupted:

" But stay with us until daylight.
You are perfectly welcome to the
best we can offer you."

"No," said the stranger, calmly
though decidedly, casting one long,
lingering look into my face. "I am
due at N early to-morrow morn-
ing and must cover some of the ground
to-night. My man has charge of my
mule-train and packers about three
hundred yards below. I saw the
light from your fire and came to seek
information. Thank you." And he
vanished as quickly as he had ap-
peared.

I had stood motionless and speech-
less during this brief dialogue be-
tween my brother and the stranger,
and had caught his eye but once.
But in that glance spoke volumes!

I cannot explain the sensation that
almost overwhelmed me. I seemed
to be struggling for expression, but
words would not come ; I seemed to
be gasping for breath, but a stifling
atmosphere surrounded me ; I seemed
to be striving to call the man's name,
but nowhere in my memory could I
find his proper appellation; I felt
that I knew him, yet was positive
that I had never before looked upon
his face.

All these thoughts and feelings
flew through my mind in a perfect
whirlwind; and when the stranger
was out of sight and hearing I still
stood like a statue with the gleam



from the fire lighting up my pallid
face and staring eyes.

"Tarn," said Vance in alarm,
" what is the matter with you?"

"I do not know," I replied, en-
deavoring to conceal my emotion.

"Fie, Tam," he continued, forcing
a jovial tone, " you were frightened.
This is the first time I have ever seen
you grow pale at a strange sound or
man."

"Nonsense!" I returned, and we
settled again into a silence. We
were undisturbed the remainder of
the night.

But just as we were about to " dig
out" at daylight, the same fair
stranger revisited our camp, giving
as an excuse for his reappearance
that an accident had happened to his
favorite mule.

Apparently fatigued, he threw
himself upon the ground in a half-
reclining position, resting his head
upon his hand. The growing day-
light revealed a comely form, rather
delicate than sinewy, and a face that
was almost effeminate, so regular
were the features and softened the
expression. Yet there was a strength
to his face. The eyes were blue and
expressive, the light hair fell in
waves about his forehead, while firm-
ness spoke in the lines of the mouth,
which was partly concealed by a light
mustache.

We had greeted our guest and had
listened to the story of the accident.
Vance, remembering some work he
was doing preparatory to our depar-
ture, left me alone in the august
presence of oiir visitor.

I had hitherto remained silent, and
now shrank from speaking, as I feared
my voice would hardly pass unde-
tected by one whose scrutinizing eye
had more than once been fastened
upon my smooth, beardless face.
There was something inspiring about
this man, yet I felt a certain freedom
with him, for it seemed as if we were
not strangers.

After a long pause, he broke the
silence by remarking: "There is



86 4



TAM."



something in your face and manner
most familiar to me."

"Indeed," I said, assuming sur-
prise.

" Yes, I feel as if we had met be-
fore, but I cannot recall the place.
However, I am not infrequently
meeting people with whom I seem to
be thoroughly acquainted, so I am
not greatly surprised. My faculty
of detecting resemblances may have
led me into error."

"Perhaps," I said, then ventured
to add, "though our first impressions
are not always groundless."

The stranger fell to thinking. At
length he resumed the conversation :

"And may I ask where you are
bound?"

" My brother and I are only on a
tramp through the mountains. We
tire of the city and enjoy nothing
more than a few months 'roughing
it' in the Sierras. I love the freedom
of the mountains, and only in this
kind of life do I find sympathy and
happiness."

" Yet are you not compelled to
undergo a mental starvation in a
roving mountain life?"

" In one way, yes ; though the
groves and the cliffs, the streams and
the can3^ons all breathe their lesson
of truth. My thoughts find food in
what I see and in my recollections."

''Your disposition is an odd one,"
he said, looking steadily into my
face, "and you interest me."

I moved from where I was stand-
ing and threw myself into a man-like
attitude upon a log near by the
stranger.

" Pray, what do you mean by your
recollections?" he asked.

"That I can hardly explain. A
never-ceasing train of thoughts and
pictures, familiar, yet not 'placeable, '
if I may use the term, is passing
through my mind. Vivid and real,
they seem a part of my own life, yet
in no way can I link them with the
present. These visions entertain me
for many an hour, and although I
live in the mountains, my thoughts



are hardly those of the common
mountaineer."

" But what is the character of the
pictures?" he asked, with a serious
expression upon his face.

Glad to unburden my mind to a
sympathetic listener, I said: "One
vision that seems almost to haunt
me is that of a beautiful garden,
containing romantic walks through
vine-entwined trees and dense
shrubbery. In one turn of the walk
an open space through the foliage
reveals a lake of clear, blue water.
Sometimes it is night, and the moon-
light streams down upon the smooth
surface of the water in a sheet of
silver. But always do I see that
same couple, perhaps lovers, strolling
about arm in arm. At first this
vision was extremely vague, but now
it has become so real that I almost feel
as if I were that man, so thoroughly
do I seem to know him and under-
stand him. How absurd, though,
for me to be repeating something
that is probably only the result of a
strong imagination !"

I stopped to glance at him and was
amazed to note the expression of his
face. He was ghastly! In his eyes
was a penetrating look, his head was
bent forward, and he seemed to de-
vour every word I uttered with the
voracity of a starved animal.

" I sometimes think I hear him
speak the name of the lovely woman
by his side," I continued, apparently
paying no heed to the change in his
appearance, though I was almost
overpowered by a conflict of emo-
tions. " He calls her "

"Hypatia!" he interrupted, start-
ing convulsively, and only then, as
he took the word from my mouth,
did I detect in his face the very pic-
ture of the woman in my vision.

It was with the greatest effort on
my part that I gained sufficient con-
trol of myself to hide my surprise
and emotion; and I could readily
understand, by the contortions of his
once placid face, the difficulty under
which he labored to conceal his



TAM."



865



thoughts and account for the name
that seemed accidentally to have
escaped his lips.

" My dear friend, " said the stranger,
rising and reseating himself by my
side, " I thoroughly understand your
mental condition, and it is only
through years of patient study that I
have solved the great mystery that
is presenting itself gradually to you.
Those waking dreams are a part of
your life — they belong to you, and
are only remembrances of a former
life. Each new incarnation produces
its causes and endures its effect, and
like the snowball rolled upon the
snow-covered ground gathers to it-
self its kind — constantly heaping up
experience upon experience. The
spiritual ego passes through many
stages of development before it has
gained sufficient experience to enable
it to carry from one terrestrial life to
another the impress of that life's
events. But our environment is
often such that, even though our
psychic powers have been formerly
cultivated, they seem dead until
something happens to develop them,
when they burst upon us in a perfect
torrent. In this way may be ex-
plained 'genius,' which is nothing
more than the sudden exhibition of a
power of displaying what is in the
soul acquired by former hard and bit-
ter experience. We are creatures of
circumstance Jn so far as we create
our own circumstances — not in one
life but in many successive reincar-
nations — by good and by evil doing,
always paying the penalty for the
one and reaping the reward from the
other; and it is only by patience
and forbearance and development of
thought power that we may be led
to the light, 'that Nature will reveal
her secrets to us, that our eyes may
be opened to the truth."

" I have thought on these subjects, "
I said, " but my thoughts were vague
and indefinite. As you speak, the
truth dawns upon me. There seems
to be, though, a strain of mysticism
in what you say."



" I do not doubt it. I am more or
less of an occultist. My progress in
study is greatly impeded by my sur-
roundings and circumstances. How-
ever, I try to gain all the knowledge
I can. Karma has given me my en-
vironment, so I must do all in my
small way to advance and pave the
way for a better future."

As he finished the last sentence,
he smiled and placed his hand upon
my shoulder. Involuntarily I started
and shrank from him.

He only leaned forward, and said,
with a questioning look in his clear,
blue eyes, " There is something al-
most womanly in your face."

The color rose to my cheeks and
faded away as quickly as it had come,
leaving a deathly pallor in place of
my usual glow of health. I gasped
for breath, my breast heaved, the
trees swam before my eyes !

He grasped my hands and held
them, whispering in my ear, " I be-
lieve you are a woman!"

I heard no more, for I fell prostrate
upon the ground in a faint!

When my consciousness returned,
the stranger was slowly retreating.
My eyes followed his vanishing
form ; hardly knowing what I did, I
stretched forth my hands as if by
gesture to call him back. I would
have given worlds to have seen him
turn — to have heard once again his
soft, musical voice.

He left me wondering, silent, sad-
dened yet uplifted. His presence
had shed its wholesome influence into
my life as the sun sheds its beams
upon a plant that has grown in the
shade, strengthening it and giving it
vitality.

The stranger had evidently ac-
quainted Vance with his discovery,
for my kind brother never alluded to
the incidents of that morning.

Vance sat on a log by my side,
supporting me with his arm.

" Do you feel well enough to start?"
he asked, satisfied with the return of
color to my face.

"Oh, yes!" I replied, springing up



866



TAM."



and mounting my mule cheerfully.
"Come along, Vance, let's out of
here."

How I galloped from the spot!
How poor Ajax was trotted up hill
and down ! How cruelly I used the
spurs! I dashed over the ground
like a wild animal. I turned corners
and dodged between trees at a reck-
less speed.

My panting. Ajax was almost ex-
hausted when finally I " pulled up"
upon an open stretch of country, dis-
mounted, loosened the cinch, and sat
down to await my brother's coming,
for I was several miles in advance of
him.

Well, five weeks of travel had
passed by. We had killed several
deer, considerable game, had experi-
enced encounters with Indians, but
had met few travellers.

We were now travelling a most
wild and desolate region. Nothing
but huge boulders and ragged cliffs
loomed up around us.

In passing over mountains that
were dangerous of travel, Vance al-
ways followed me closely for fear
of accident. He evinced a most
manly protection of me at all times,
and shielded me from harm with
almost motherly care.

We chanced upon a narrow path-
way that led in among the rocks,
with a tall bank on one side and an
almost perpendicular precipice on the
other. The mules' hoofs slipped and
slid on the shining, broken granite,
and it was with difficulty that we
made any progress at all.

Suddenly a shuffling and a scream
caused me to turn in my saddle. To
my horror, I saw Vance dash over
the precipice, thousands of feet below
into the crevice of a glacier! I ut-
tered a cry, I called his name, but
the winds only took up my mournful
tone and echoed it from mountain to
mountain. I heard the dull sound
of his body as it struck upon a rock,
and my head reeled! I was dazed!
I was stupefied !

The trail was so narrow that I



could neither turn my mule nor dis-
mount. My first impulse was to fol-



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