and greeted us cordially. "In good time," he said. "I am glad
to see that. It promises well." And then, looking around to see that no
one was within hearing, he came nearer to us. "If I were you," he
continued, "I wouldn't say nothin' to folks in general about
relationships, for there are people, and very good people, too, whose
minds haven't got on far enough to make 'em able to understand
telephones and the other new kinds of wonders."

We acknowledged the force of his remarks, and all went into the church.

Three days after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Kilbright on their
wedding tour, my wife received a letter from Dr. Hildstein, written by
himself from New York, but addressed in the handwriting of Mr.
Corbridge.

"I return," he wrote, "to Germany, perfectly happy in having succeeded
in my experiments; but nevermore, esteemed lady, will I dematerialize a
subject who has remained long enough in this world to make friends, and
I am the only man who can do this thing."

This letter greatly satisfied us. "It shows that he has some heart,
after all," said Mrs. Colesworthy, "but as to that man Corbridge, I
believe he would have kept poor Mr. Kilbright dancing backward and
forward between this world and the other as long as a dollar could be
made out of him. But there is only one way in which he can do us any
harm now, and that is by materializing the first Mrs. Kilbright; but,
knowing us, as he now does, I don't believe he will ever try that."

"No," said I, "I don't believe he ever will."

Should you ever meet with Mr. Amos Kilbright, you need not hesitate to
entrust him with any surveying you may have on hand. Mr. Corbridge
cannot dematerialize him, the German scientist will not, and there is no
one else in the world who would even think of such a thing. Therefore,
you need feel no fear that he may suddenly vanish from your sight,
leaving nothing behind him but his clothes and the contents of his
pockets; unless, indeed, he should again be so foolish as to go to swim
in the ocean at a point where there is a strong ebb tide.

THE REVERSIBLE LANDSCAPE.

To look at me no one would suppose it; but it is, nevertheless, a fact
that I am a member of a fire company. I am somewhat middle-aged,
somewhat stout, and, at certain times of the year, somewhat stiff in the
joints; and my general dress and demeanor, that of a sober business man,
would not at all suggest the active and impetuous fireman of the period.
I