mechanical skill now so easily acquired it will be easy to prepare an electric turn-table by which these revolutions can be accomplished. This can be set in rotation by the electric force of the Northern Lights. Seated upon its edge and whirled eastward for a dozen minutes, one would find himself, perhaps, in the midst of the twenty-sixth century. Then turning southward to the abodes of men, the adept would be received with the greatest eagerness. To these far-off people, 'the latest progeny of time,' he would appear as a Mahatma wise to overflowing with the lore of bygone centuries. It is even possible that such an invention was already in the hands of the ancient Mahatmas. Of such origin beyond a doubt were the sages or Old Men of the Mountains, who from time to time in the past have appeared in the cities of men, filled with forgotten information and equipped with magic power. Such a one of a surety was Trismegistos, three times greatest, and such was Peter the Hermit and Gautama. In the light of our present knowledge, the appearance of Van Winkle at the town of Falling Waters should be carefully reinvestigated. The explanation currently given is far from conclusive, and the little men of the Catskills were probably of an astral nature and not contemporaneous with the ignorant villagers who scoffed at their existence.
"But far more important than any result from the projection of the personal presence into the future are those derived from its retrojection into the scenes of the past. For this purpose the machinery of the turn-table should be attuned to the greatest possible accuracy. Its movement must be as perfect as that of the finest chronometer. A whirl or two too much or too little might leave the personal presence stranded in an age on which its influence would be wasted. For instance, the attempt to rescue Cæsar from his ambitions or Brutus from his crime would be futile if attempted before Caesar was born. A single day too late and the whole matter must needs be gone over again from the first, with large chances that the drifting floes of the North may have swept away the turn-table. In such case the painful journey on foot round and round the pole till the desired meridian is reached would be inexpressibly tedious. Even the most eager adept could hardly be blamed if he directed his steps toward his own century and his bodily home. To prevent gross accidents and to secure the best results, therefore, a considerable number of people should cooperate. We should make of the matter a kind of Salvation Army. Seated on the turn-table a hundred adepts could be whirled round and round to the westward, each descending at the time his mission might designate. Miss Jones, for example, would descend in 1776 to gain the confidence of Benedict Arnold and thus save him from his treason. Our friend, Doctor Cribbs, perhaps could descend in the reign of James II., and by a few doses of Swamp Root cure the judge's sad malady and save
