The courier. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1894-1903, 1899-09-16
VAISYA THE SLAVE.
ATALE OF STANCE sORCERY.

longevity. He says: II believe that a
man might hve t,co hundred gears q
he could sleep most of The time. That
is the pay negroes lipe to such an dd-
panced age-because they sleep so much.
At one time, during my boyhood days,
succumbed TO the then popular fad
among my fellows Of collecting adver-
Using cards, particularly picture cards,
reproductions Of famous paintings and
the like. such as business firms we're
wont to scatter over the country by the
millions. Many Of these chromos were
we'll printed, and to me, then. they repre-
sented quite high order Of art.
One that came into my possession es-
pecially excited my admiration. 1t was
the picture of girl. There was an in.
finity OF sadness and tenderness in her
face, or perhaps | should say in her
dark. dropping, long-lashed eyes. that az
I looked my heart thrilled with emotions
it had never before known. Her mouth
showed red and full, tempting, languid,
and her long black hair waved uncon-
fined over her shoulders, about which
was drawn simple garment OF white
that fell just low enough to reveal the
perfection of her throat. In all, the
face was the strangest commingling and
complexity OF melancholy, innocence
and sensuousness have ever observed,
and it awoke my boyish fancy for the
fret time to the possibilities Of love.
l reasoned with myself that the pic.
ture must be simply fancy one, that
there was no such being anywhere; and
yet, az her beauty more and more i'm
pressed itself upon my plastic mind,
che assumed reality at last that no
amount Of reasoning could wholly dis
pei.
I came to mans estate, but never
forgot her face, and sometimes I found
myself vaguely looking for her amid the
throug Of the street, or the audience at
theatre, or the dancers at a hall. l
made the acquaintance Of many beauti-
full and fashionable women Of New York,
Baltimore and Philadelphia; but though
the reports Of my wealth made courtship
a rosy pathway, I gave my heart to none.
much less my hand. I was waiting
always for the incarnation Of my phan.
tasy, who. ! believed, l should some
time find waiting for me, like the Sleep
ing Beauty for her Prince, in an en-.
chsnted palace.
One night, 10 restless mood, visited
one Of the smaller variety theatres. On
the bill was performer who was an
nounced az "Naka Nsrsyans, the most
famed dervish Of India, the worlds
greatest prestidigitateur and mind
reader" or something like that. He had
a young woman assistant, az most stage
mountebanks have, and when the two
came on for their turn, my astonish.
ment may be imagined when ! recog-
nized the g,rl ae the living counterpart
Of my long cherished picture!
There was 20 doubt about it.. sat
we'll down front, and could see her
plainly, and the use Of opera glasses only
accumulated the resemblance. There
was the same melancholy sweetness OF
expression, the same exquisite languor
Of the mouth, the same sad expression
in the eyes; and added now to all this
was matchless grace and sinuosity OF
figure-a sort Of wild, natural grace like
that Of panther-the grace that is
called the poetry Of motion. Tier hair,
too, fell over her shoulders, as in the