Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-12-31
THE MAGIC WORD

him, held Porter's. He said slowly, impress
lively:
Bob, an old man, very old man, died
this morning when seated in his chair at a
window that overlooks park where some
children were at play. He left WILL and
you and | are beneficiaries under the terms
of that will. The legacies are not visionary,
although you might think so: they are real.
There is no money, no property, no jewels,
or stocks, or bonds, disposed of in that will;
no executors are narned, and no admins
traitors need be appointed. Nevertheless,
that will bequeaths riches untold, limitless,
and boundess
with careful forethought that old gentle
man hid his gifts away where they must be
sought, to be possessed. You and | must
want them, in order to recover them, pos
sess them, and hold them. The gifts are
Health, Wealth, and Happiness. The place
where they are hidden is behind the true
meaning of the magic word, and the magic
word itself is hidden in the numbers 10, Is.
and %. His intention in hiding the word
was, doubtless, that it should require effort
and concentration to be found. A mere
revelation of it would have been like the
making of check against my bank &C
count, without effort, and without apprecia-
ton. You say that l am the healthiest
man you know: in reality am the sickest
man in the world, because | am a spiritual
invalid. You call me rich because l own
accounts at banks and can draw upon
them without restraint: in reality, | am
poorer than you are, who earn your money
little at time. You say that there is no
reason why l should not be happy, and that
l have only to reach out and take happiness:
Intn 10 o,,1
take it-by seeking and finding the magic
word that brings with it the absence of all
forms of discomfort
Darlington left his chair and stood straight
and tall beside his companion. Sometime,
old friend, 1 will send for you When l do
so, come to me; for | shall have found the
secret of no more sickness, no more poverty,
and no more discomfort. Goodnight"
DORTER left the table and strolled into
the club library, rarely occupied at all,
deserted now. He seated himself upon one
chair and drew another one nearer to accom-
modate his feet. He smoked on in silence,
preoccupied, moody, i'll at ease, discon-
tented, dissatisfied with his lot, trying to
solve disquieting problem that confronted
him which he had intended to put up to his
friend Darlington that night, but which he
had for some unknown reason been dis
suaded from doing. An acquaintance entered
the room, glanced hurriedly about, discov-
cred him, and approached.
Hello, Bob" the acquaintance exclaimed.
He was Leighton, Porter's chief; an alert,
busy brainy man, full of hustle stored
energy, and fire. "Read that! It's great.
Right in your line! It's worth page if it's
handled right" and he threw an evening
paper into Porter's lap. @Mysterious old
man. came from nobody knows where. lived
nobody knows how, died nobody knows
why, left will that nobody knows what
it's about, and Hello! Say! What's the
matter, Bob?"
Porter had glanced at the paper while his
friend was talking, and had crushed it in his
hand. thrown it to the floor, and started to
his feet with an expression that need not be