The San Francisco call., 1896-08-16

minutes later close observer might have
noticed that her face blanched, that she
half rose from her chair and then sal
down with gasp. But her husband did
not appear. Half-past 5, her look had be-
come anxious; at it was distressed. The
! library was now almost empty. She could
no longer read. but rose and walked about.
She went to the outer door and looked up
and down the street for a familiar form.
None was in sight. She returned to her
seat. Then, as if unable to keep her anx-
ious thoughts to herself, she turned to a
lady whose kindly face invited confidence
and said:
DO you think any accident may have
happened to the Oakland trainp"
81 do not know; but why do you ask ?"
"My husband had to 60 to Oakland to-
day on business, but he promised to meet
me here at the usual time. He has never
yet failed to keep his appointment so
fear something has happened"
May not his business have detained
him longer than he anticlpated?"
Possibly. But what worries me is that
at the time that he always comes thought
saw him stagger in deathly pale and
holding his hand to his head. Once he
said iokingly that, dead or alive, he would
surely come"
The lady waited until o'clock, then
said:
81 won't wait any longer. Tl go
home"
AS she passed out she laid her card in
the hand of the sympathetic stranger.
The Sunday papers were full of terri
BILE accident that had happened the day
before at a little after 5 in the afternoon
to an Oakland train. Among those who
met death was the name of a man corre-
spending to the name on the card. The
man had been struck on the head and in
stantly killed. Whether his spirit had
kept the appointment or whether it was
fancy of his wife's brain the reader may
judge.
The lady still comes to the library on
Saturday afternoons. She sits in an ex.
pectant attitude, with her eyes riveted on
the door. A little after she leans for
ward, startled look comes into her eyes,
her pale face grows paler, she signs deep
iy, then rises and goes home alone.
The Mercantile Library has more re-
tired air than the other libraries. 1t is
never crowded. The people come and 90
softly; they do not congregate in groups
to laugh and chat, and there are never
many who remain to read. In the recesses,
where there are tables and chairs,
there is entire privacy. In one of these
hooks may frequently be seen a small,
middle-aged lady, with deeply set eyes
and gentle face shaded by soft gray hair.
She always comes IN the morning and,
choosing sunny corner, seats herself at
the table, clasps her hands upon her lap
ana gazes intently before her. She re-
mains thus for hours, and appears TO lose
consciousness OF her surroundings. Her
attitude of constant meditation has made
her known as the reflective lady" and
many are the surmises as to the subjects
upon which her thoughts are centered.
One morning her meditations we're dis
turbed by lady who sat down at the
same ia be and began to read As she
read she passed her hand across her fore
head and gave slight sigh. The refec-
tive lady noted the movement, and catch
ing the expression of pain said gently:
Excuse me, madame, are you suffer-
ing2'
The other looked up surprised, not only
at the question, but at the sympathetic
tone.
Yes she replied. "my head aches
dreadfully."
'Let me take your hand" said the
thoughtful lady. "Now, think that you
have no headache, that you are entirely
we'll. Do not allow your mind to wand er
from this point"
The two sat thus for some time. Then
the one who had been suffering said
gaily:
"How we'll feel. Have you hypnotized
me?"
mot at all" was the answer. 81 have
simply cured you by will power. Ny
mind has convinced yours OF your error
in supposing you had a headache"
"Well," said the other laughing
"whether it was an error or headache,
often" she continued, Exercise your heal
ing powers?"
eyes; 1 have helped many people.
am helping sufferers in the distance when |
1 sit silently here. In this place peace
falls upon my spirit, such as will not ad- |
NIT of the existence of any suffering, |
physical or mental. This morning have |
been treating a man in the Mission who is |
paralvzed. Tonight l will hear how he
is. 1 am sure he is better"
The lady whose headache had been cured |
opened her purse.
NO. said the other, interrupting the |
''don't offer me money. l |
couldn't take it.
"Well, you'll let me thank you, won't |
ycu?" extending her hand, which was
warmly pressed, and the two ladies' parted.
The one who had found relief from the
headache went blithely out. The otherr re-
sumed her former attitude of deep cogita-
tion.
Pre- sidential Autographs.
From the Collector it is learned that