"Then do it some time. It's the champion mystery of the world. No man
knows how it works. We know it furnishes us with names and places,
facts and figures and events without limit, and they come to us
instantaneously without waiting to be called. A thousand telegraph
clerks with an acre of pigeon holes could not accomplish in an
hour what your memory does in a second. It is quicker than greased
lightning. It's the miracle of miracles. Why, Luther, these thought
waves of mine, compared with it, are so simple and so easy that any
normal baby could operate them."
"I guess you are right."
After a few more words, this conversation ended, and Luther departed.
But Dr. Alton and Cyrus sat a long time on the little porch talking
seriously of the Great Discovery.
But the inventor, later that afternoon, was not too much absorbed in
electric wonders to visit a corner at the end of the garden. There he
straightened up a slab that marked a grave. The slab was of wood. He
brushed the surface with careful hands and read the letters he himself
had carved nine years before.
HeRe Lies
Zac ALton He
Was VeRY SmARt
and ALSO
GooD
These lines Cyrus always read with a smile--not of mirth, but of
satisfaction with their truth and justice to his old friend's
character. Pleasant indeed were those memories!--lively and bounding
memories: of adoration for himself and of unswerving loyalty to the
final breath of a short but joyous life.
[Illustration]
X