to his studies. He acquired with both Bougereau and Fleury some distinction as a colorist, and during the entire period of his attendance at the Academy held first or second rank in the classes in composition.

Both in professional and in personal character he impresses one as being endowed with notable clearness and precision of purpose. He has held tenaciously to the purity of his art, absolutely refusing to contaminate it with mercenary makeshifts. A virile, common-sense apprehension of the necessities of the world, however, has never been wanting to him, and he has so shaped his course as to make his art support itself without departing from its ideals. His pictures have sold lucratively because he has applied to them the greatest perfection of which he was at the time capable. In engaging his services. for a decade or more to the art school, the

proof that he did so with sincere devotion to his profession lies in the quality of men and women who graduated during his incumbency. In these respects his life as a young man is of a grade with which it may favorably influence many who aspire to art to become familiar.

Mr. Joullin is a native of California, and with the exception of his two years in Paris and this recent trip, has spent no time outside of the State. He has been urged time and again to go to some larger center, lest he waste his talents in the wilderness, but seems to feel no apprehension on that score. California is rich in nature, if not in culture, and Mr. Joullin's own word is:

"I have always adhered strictly and truthfully to nature; it has been the only guide I have had. I have obtained all my subjects from it, and I could ask nothing more."

G

RANTLY was always a peculiar fellow; but it was with genuine pleasure, not unmixed with surprise, that I saw him board the westbound Santa Fé train at Albuquerque. As he walked along the aisle of the car towards me, I noticed that he looked pale and worn. His face was really haggard, and his eyes were supernaturally bright and restless. Everybody had said that he had gone West for his health; but Grantly stoutly affirmed that his trip was made in the interest of science.

He was about to possess himself of a vacant seat some distance in front of me when I called to him, "Hello, Grantly, old chap!"

"Bob Graham, as I'm a living man!" he exclaimed, rushing towards me with outstretched hand. "What are you doing in this part of the country?"

"New York bored me, and I started off to enjoy myself," I answered, turning the seat in front so that we could sit vis-a-vis. "But tell me about yourself," I went on. "Have you been long in Albuquerque?

دو

He attempted to answer, but was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing. It lasted for a long time, and it was terrible to see him. He almost went into a spasm.

My poor fellow!" I cried commiseratingly, when the coughing had ceased and left him lying back in his seat limp and weak. "You are in a bad way, and ought not to be traveling around all alone."

He turned his glistening eyes upon me and answered whisperingly: "Yes, Bob, I am in a bad way; so bad that there is no help for me, unless I find-" He paused. "Find what?" I put in. "Aquastor!" The word came through his white lips with a sigh.

"What is that?” I asked.

For me it means health, vitality that will conquer disease, salvation. It might mean more, such as success in life, fame, and wealth. But I ask not for theseonly health, health! Aquastor is not far; he is to be found in Laguna, and I am going to find him."

"Then, why not leave the train with me at Laguna? It is an interesting place, and I can safely promise you an experience that will be unique. Besides, if you go with me, I will explain everything."

"Why not?" I asked myself. On that trip I was a creature of impulse, and poor Grantly certainly needed the companionship of a friend.

"I will go," I said, and he leaned forward and caught my hand.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Now, let me explain. Every man has for his familiar a guardian spirit, which is the Evestrum, the astral body, according to Paracelsus. This guardian spirit engineers the earthly fortunes of the physical man; and man is successful in life according to the power of his familiar."

I gave an incredulous cough and looked into the eyes of Grantly to see if he was joking. There was no doubt of his being in sober earnest. Without apparently noticing my actions, he continued:

"There is another being, created by the imagination entirely, and called Aquastor. The specific imagination required for this creative act is evolved by a concentration of thought upon the A'kasa, which is an Eastern term signifying living primordial substance. The Aquastor I seek is the

familiar spirit of a charm whose peculiar history dates from far-olden times. Fashioned by an Egyptian priest of Isis, at Abydos, centuries before Christ, the only really definite information I have of the charm is as follows: Passing from Egypt to India, in some manner it came into the possession of a Hindu ascetic, and was captured from him immediately after the battle of Hydaspes by the plundering soldiers of Alexander the Great. By them it was given up to Perdiccas, one of Alexander's generals, and became his guiding star, assisting him in his ambitious schemes and protecting his person from mutinous assaults. At last, losing the charm, he was murdered. I have reasons for believing Antipater next wore it about his neck; but from that time until about the period of Octavian we lose sight of it. In the last century before Christ it was in Rome, befriending its possessors. Here figuring with Alfarabi as the Philosopher's Stone, there treasured by Paracelsus as the spirit Azoth; now sustaining princes and potentates, now elevating plebeians to the purple, the charm has traversed all Europe, wandered for a time in Northern Africa (the home of its birth), and finally, in the nineteenth century, has been carried to America by the low-born daughter of a charcoal-burner in the Hartz Mountains. By her was it lost on the great plains, in a battle with Indians, and at this moment it is in the possession of Quacal, the great wonderworker of the Navajos. He is at present in Laguna. The blue topaz was bought by me, from the chieftain of the tribe to which Quacal belongs. It is an open sesame' to his favor."

I heaved a long sigh of relief as Grantly relapsed into silence. His brain was turned. There was no doubt about that. I saw very plainly that he needed me, and I sought to persuade him to give up his quest for Aquastor and go on with me to the bracing airs of San Diego; but he stubbornly refused, and held me to my promise to leave the train with him at Laguna.

"Well," said I, unable to restrain my incredulity any longer, "I will go simply to be with you, for I see you are not able

to go alone; but nevertheless I think you are taking me on a wild-goose chase."

"No, no," he answered, with feverish earnestness; "the daughter of the charcoal-burner lives in Albuquerque. She gave me a little of the history of Aquastor, and a part of what she told me my studies have verified."

"If she knows that this medicine-man of the Navajos has the charm, why does she not go and secure it herself?"

"She does not know; that information I obtained from other sources."

He turned his eyes from the car window and for some moments watched the country of desert and volcano through which we were passing. It was a dreary outlook, and not more barren or hopeless than his own immediate future. As I gazed at him, so thin, shrunken, and weak, I pitied him from the depths of my soul. Turning quickly, he must have caught the compassion in my eyes, for he put out one white, quivering hand.

"Bob, the doctors have given me up," he said slowly; "the climate can do nothing for me. If Aquastor will not save, who else? It is the quest for this spirit-for me, the spirit of health-that buoys me up; otherwise, I would not be able to leave my bed."

I saw clearly that he was a drowning man clutching at a straw, and disease had so enfeebled his mind that he firmly believed all that he had told me.

"Well, my boy," I replied, "it is as Heaven wills. But you may count on me to stand by you."

He pressed my hand thankfully and continued gazing from the window. The sun sank down behind the barren, queerlyshaped mountains, and the stars, like clear-cut gems, appeared in the purple heavens; and then, when we saw the moon, its beams were falling like rays of silver across the spectral terrace houses of the Laguna pueblos.

We left the train, and I was just starting towards a waiting carriage when Grantly caught my arm.

"Just send the luggage to the hotel," he said. "We will follow later, after we see Quacal."

"Let us have a good night's rest," I

"To-morrow may be too late!"

I thought this a foolish whim, but did not care to cross him in it. Leaning against the corner of the depot, stood a stalwart Indian, dressed in gaudy leggings and moccasins, with a finely woven Navajo blanket about his shoulders. Grantly approached him confidently and exhibited the topaz. The effect was instantaneous. The Indian nodded, beckoned to us to follow, and stalked off through the moonlight.

"I was wondering," I remarked in a low tone, "how we should find this Quacal, but I see you had it all arranged."

"The chief left Albuquerque several days in advance of me," returned Grantly, "and he stopped here on his way to the Navajo reservation. He knew when I was to come, and promised me that this guide should be here."

As we approached the squatty adobe buildings, throwing out long shadows under the oblique beams of the moon, numbers of dogs ran out and barked at our heels, and occasionally I saw a dark figure uprear itself on a housetop and gaze at us curiously. I cannot say that I felt in any fear of personal injury, yet my hand crept instinctively behind me to make sure that my revolver was in my hip-pocket.

We were rapidly approaching the largest of the terraced pueblos. The building was now before us a queer structure, each story rising some distance back from the outward wall of the one below, with ladders against the adobe sides for convenience in passing from one terrace to the other.

As we drew near the pueblo, Grantly asked in a low tone, "Are you armed, Bob?

question, for at that moment our guide began climbing a ladder that led to the top of the first terrace.

We followed him silently. Grantly's breath was coming in short quick gasps. I drew near him and caught hold of his arm, surprised to find that he was trembling like an aspen.

"You're almost done up, Grantly," said I. "Calm yourself."

"It's only the excitement," he answered. "I am stronger than you think."

Our guide suddenly paused before a hole that opened in the roof at his feet. Up through this aperture came a flood of light, so that the Indian, casting aside his blanket for an easier descent, looked like some fiend over a furnace of Hades. Pausing to look at us, he pointed downward, then disappeared in the regions below. Grantly followed, and I went directly after him, not without certain misgivings for certainly this visit to an Indian pueblo, at night, was a unique experience for me.

The descent was by means of another ladder, and very easily made. At the foot of the ladder I looked around and discovered that I was in a small, square room with an earthern floor and windowless adobe walls, the interior lighted with a torch of resinous wood. At one side was a curtained doorway. Before this our guide paused, one hand on the striped blanket that served as for a portiere. With the other hand he motioned to us. We understood the gesture. As he drew aside the blanket, Grantly and I passed through the doorway.

The second room was similar to the one through which we had just passed, save that it was lighted by three torches. At the farther end of the chamber was an Indian squatting on a blanket, Turkish fashion. He was very old and was bared to the waist. His long black hair was kept in place by a cloth bandage around his forehead. About his bronze-like neck hung a white object, the size of a small hickorynut.

"That's it," panted Grantly, fixing his bright eyes on the white sphere; "the

charm!

The medicine-man gave a grunt of in

"Like some fiend over a furnace of Hades"

quiry as he turned his dull eyes upon us. "The topaz, Grantly," said I,-" show it to him."

Grantly at once collected his senses and displayed the gem. Quacal held out his hand, and Grantly tossed it to him. some time the Indian examined it with evident satisfaction, and then coolly dropped it into a pouch that hung at his belt.

"He's going to keep it," muttered Grantly.

"He thinks you intended it for a present," I returned. "But look! He's beginning his tricks."

VOL. XXXIII - 2

Quacal waved his long arms in the direction of the torches, and each one, by degrees, burned lower and lower, until nothing was left but a glimmering coal on the end of the wooden billet. All was dark in the room, save for the three sparks that