Arriving at Paris, Garcia hailed a cab and we were driven rapidly across the city to the palatial residence of Monsieur Durant, an old-time friend of my parents, and for whom I had a sealed letter from my father. M. Durant, an elderly gentleman of about sixty years with a military looking beard and mustache slightly sprinkled with gray, met us at the entrance in person, and, grasping my hand and speaking most cordially, led the way to his private reception-rooms. After some time in pleasant conversation Garcia arose, and, saying he would see me again, departed, leaving me alone with M. Durant to whom I now gave the letter from my father as he had instructed. As he broke the seal and opened the letter a casual glance showed me it was written in hieroglyphics. M. Durant read its contents in silence, then "M. Durant," I replied, "from a child I have been fond of knowledge, and knowledge is now the ambition of my life. The information that the outside scientific world can give me does not satisfy; it can tell me nothing concerning the real nature of things, and its knowledge consists of a mass of unexplained facts and phenomena only. But from the teachings received from my father, I am led to believe that there are those in the world whose knowledge is not confined to such narrow limits, that they will aid me to reach real knowledge, and it is them I seek." "Do you realize the serious nature of true knowledge? Do you know the requirements necessary to its possession? Do you know the immense responsibilities and duties that it brings?" "These to some extent I know and realize; and these I am ready and willing to meet and assume." "You speak bravely and with confidence, but I fear you know not all. Nevertheless, I believe "You do," I answered. "Now, referring to your knowledge: Your father says you are well advanced in medicine, art, and law; this is well, for these are indispensable requisites for an active life for mankind. He further says you have not as yet received the formal and superficial titles that are deemed so essential in this world, the great majority of whose people never look beneath the surface. "Therefore I advise you to enter the exoteric schools and institutes, and get diplomas and certificates in these three professions. Your knowledge will enable you to carry on all three subjects at the same time. And while they can give you no real knowledge, they can teach you much that will be of advantage in the world. In art, they can teach you skill with the hand; in law, diplomacy and forms; in medicine, they can teach you surgery, and give you confidence in yourself from the ignorance they show. "Then, further, you will form acquaintances, gain influence, and, if you are accepted as a candidate for the secret schools, be ready for consideration I left the room, and, proceeding along the hall, met Camille and accompanied her in a pleasant drive over the city. As on the evening before, she again demonstrated her ability as a conversationalist and entertainer, and when we returned our friendship was established. Thus time passed, and Camille and I were almost constantly together. She was a student of art at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, and, at her request, and in accordance with M. Durant's advice, I also matriculated. At the same time I entered two of the most celebrated schools for instruction in medicine and law. Through the Durants I gained entrance into the highest social circles of Paris, forming many strong friendships with her beautiful and intellectual women, and becoming closely associated with many men of serious and studious minds. Although surrounded and in almost constant association with the beauty and intellect of the French metropolis, I had not, as yet, found my ideal love. Camille and I were closely attached to each other, but only as brother and sister, and we called each other such. I often recalled the remarks of my father about Garcia, without a word of explanation, had altogether disappeared; and, trusting M. Durant to attend to my application for membership into the secret schools, I settled down to business and concentrated all nay energies upon my studies; and this without divorcing myself from social life, for the keynote of my father's teachings was concentration. I had so cultivated this power, that "Mlle. Vivani has contracted a severe cold and will not be able to appear this evening." A shuffle of feet and murmur of disappointment ran through the audience, when the speaker continued: As he spoke a beautiful and stately woman, dressed in a Grecian costume of purest white, appeared upon the stage. A thrill ran through my form, my limbs trembled with agitation, a suppressed cry escaped my lips; I leaned forward with a startled look, and as Camille, dumfounded by my actions, laid her hand upon my shoulder and asked what was wrong, I uttered the one word—"Mother!" Yes, there upon the stage, in all her queenly beauty, her broad white brow and dark lustrous eyes now more beautiful than ever, was my mother. Mother, or her living image? As though the intensity of my gaze attracted her, she turned, and her eyes met mine. A momentary pallor came over her face and she gripped her hand; then, as if by a supreme effort of will, turned her eyes to the audience. Now her voice rises in song. Yes, it is the same sweet voice I had listened to so often, but, if anything, more sweet than ever. With wondrous power her voice rises and fallsPARIS—MOTHER!