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Page 19 text:
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Che y.ii$cr iltlu s nttnr 0) Jims President.... Mildred Thoren Treasurer.................Joseph McCa ney Vice President....Raymond Reznor Secretary ........................ Ruth Meacham (Color JfhUvcr ittotto Navy Blue and White Lily-of-the-valley Follow the Gleam. Smuur JJn thmi I am a skeptical person. I can’t help it. I was born that way. But even a confirmed doubting Thomas must, sometime or ether, own himself convinced. And I am no exception to the ru!e. One of the many sciences of which I had always entertained my snspiciors was that of hypnotism. Frankly, I thought it a gi eat humbug to lure money from innocent and gullible people. And then came the chance to t st the truth of my belief, or rather disbelief. My home was in New York, that great metropolis where all things possible and impossible happen. One day in Spring, 1928, a friend called upon me and told me some very interesting news. A hypnotist by the name, Dr. Van Glyck, had rented the apartment horse on the corner opposite my bcard-ing-house, and was offering to hypnotize anyone for a very small sum of money. He also professed an ability to remove a person, in mind, to any spot they wished to visit, while in this semi-unconscious state- My friend was enthusiastic about it and wanted me to go with her to see this wonderful person. After some parleying, I agreed to go, although, I believed Dr. Van Glyck incapable of performing the miracle of mind-transmission. When at last a servant announced that Dr. VanGlyck was ready to re- ceive us, we v ere ushered into a large, darkened room, hung with oriental trappings, and filled with a strange, sweet odor. The Doctor, too, with his large, dark, piercing eyes, and yellow, slender, fingeis harmonized with the room. Learning that I was the one who desired to be hypnotised, he asked me to be seated in a large cushioned chair, facing a huge yellow disk, that hung on the opposite wall, and which glowed softly in the mellow light. Then the hypnotist began making, with his long, talcn-like fingers, strange passes before my face, all the time studying me with the direct gaze of his wonderful eyes. At first I did not feel any effects, whatsoever, but in a few minutes I grew drowsy, my head felt light, and I was only conscious of the great yellow disc before me, enveloped in blue haze. At last that too, was merged into the round face of a clock high upon the wall of what I soon perceived was a large room. This room was filled with high, polished, desks, at each one of which sat a girl, studying industriously. In the front of the room was a desk larger than the others and before it sat—could I believe my eyes?--Ruth Meacham, one of my High School class mates, of 1916. I would not have known her had I not heard one of the girls address her. There she sat in
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Page 20 text:
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£hr (Li rr Tiljt quiet dignity, with the stamp of nigh knowledge on her brow. She held the chair of English in one of our renowned women’s colleges, and she filled it well, both physically and mentally. For time had not changed her much, the same tantalizing dimple remaining in her chin, and the same germ of industry in her wonderful head. I should like to have stayed to listen to the erudite speech on “The Victorian Age of English Literature,” which she was about to deliver, but the blue haze descended, obscuring my view, only to give way again to a dim, yellow, light through which I could see the outlines of a large, enclosed stage. Soon objects became more distinct, and I saw that I was in a large theater, with tier upon tier of faces, ranged before me and off at one side of the great stage a large grand piano. There was a rustle of silken curtains, and out upon the stage stepped a vision in white satin. I was willing to believe anything now, and saw, without surprise, that this vision was none other than my former classmate, Margaret Funcheon. She added a few inches to her height and really looked quite dignified, standing there before the awed multitude. Then she advanced to the p:'ano, from which soon floated out strains of music, the quality of which in beauty and inspiration had never before been equalled, since the days of Beethoven. No wonder the crowd sat awed and silent, listening with strained interest to every exquisite note. How often had we seen those magical fingers of Margaret’s, skilfully twirling a forbidden note or snapping disdainfully behind a reprimanding teachers back, without ever dreaming that they would one day set a world afire with enthusiasm! Fain would I have lingered, enjoying the triumph of this young magician of music, but the relentless blue haze again enveloped everything, only to lift again, after what seemed an interminable period of time, to disclose a very different scene from that on which my eyes last rested. Before me stretched a long, sandy road, bordered with tall palm trees. On one side of the read was a round stone well, against which three dark women leaned, gossiping eagerly, forgetting to fill with the water the tall brown jars they had brought for that purpose. Opposite the well, on the ether sidp of the road, I saw a white brick building, bearing on a spire at its top, the white cross of Christianity. Before this building was a square plot of ground, partly enclosed bv a bamboo fence. As I regarded this building, the front dcor opened, and out came a young woman, leading by the hand several small, black children. As she approached, I had a faint recollection of having seen her before. Then suddenly it dawned upon me that this was Ilattie McKenney! She had become a missionary to the heathen! My doubts vanished completely when I heard her ejaculate, “My Conscience!” as one of the little dark charges performed some rebellious act. As she sat dowm on a bench in the yard she drew out a little green book, and opening it, began to
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