rough the room above our
heads, and a man with the chair on which he sat rising several feet
from the floor without the aid of any visible force whatever. I heard
a slate pencil, moved by an invisible power, writing on a slate, and
read in plain English what was written. I also saw in the same manner
a pen writing on paper with ink, and felt with my hand the moisture of
the ink. I know not wherein the invisible power consisted which caused
these phenomena, but that such a power does exist I know for certain,
for in this case, at least, there was no chance for deception.

At the home of the prince Tagore I met the renowned Madame Blavatsky,
and many Hindoo theosophists. She is a large, corpulent woman, with
intelligent, though rather coarse, features. She believes that she is
attended by Kut-Humis-Lal-Sing, a Buddhistic hermit who is claimed to
be two thousand years old, and have the power of moving his "astral
body" as swiftly as thought to the most distant places. For my part I
saw nothing remarkable among the theosophists, but it is a common
belief among the Hindoos that certain pundits, or learned men, who
for years have lived in the mountains as hermits, abstaining from food
and all sensual pleasures, thereby attain such a power of mind over
matter as to be able to separate the former from the body and let it,
untrammeled by the laws of matter, move from place to place, still
retaining the same form and ability to speak and act. Whether this is
so or not I cannot say, but this I know, that "there are more things
in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy."

[Illustration: TYPES OF MOHAMMEDAN SERVANTS.]

[Illustration: SOBULLA, AN IDIOT.]

What luxuries one may enjoy here in the most pleasant company,--a
glorious nature, palatial residences, choice fruits, dishes and wines,
pleasures of all kinds, surrounded by a host of servants, who, in
snow-white garments and with bare feet, noiselessly and swiftly move
about in order to gratify one's desires upon the slightest sign,--and
still how I long for the home in the North, with the cool winds and
frost and snow which quicken the blood, give appetite, and fill one
with a feeling of surging vitality and energy, unknown in the
enervating climates of the South.

From my veranda I see a crowd of people on the street who seem to pay
homage to some one. It proves to be an idiotic beggar, Sobul