CHAPTER XXII.

THE ELIXIR OF RAPIDITY: STRANGE STORY OF A RUSSIAN

NIHILIST.

fell in with a long

In an eating-house in Southern Russia I haired student who spoke broken German. It had been weeks since I had spoken a word. I passed a day in the student's society with considerable pleasure. He related a curious story, which he called "Das Elixir der Schnelligkeit" (The Elixir of Rapidity).

"Near the mouth of the Ural River, on the Siberian frontier of Russia," said the long-haired student, "was at one time a small hut which, in an isolated section of the country, was encircled with so thick and impenetrable a growth of fir and Polish wierzba trees as to escape the detection of the few travellers whom necessity or adverse fortune cast in that desolate region. The low hut, without window or chimney-probably in years gone by the retreat of some fugitive Jew-had until recently been deserted. There were cobwebs in the dark corners; the yard lying around the hut, shut in by a palisade of thicklyset firs, was overgrown with rank grasses, with the ruta, the roza, and other herbs peculiar to Western Siberia. The faint plash of the Ural as it rippled on its way to the Caspian Sea was the only sound that disturbed the solemn stillness. The sun had set behind the snow-capped peaks of the Ural Mountains, a dull light flickered out into the darkness through the chinks and cracks of the dilapidated hovel.

"Lying on a pallet in one corner of this low room was a man of Eastern dress and appearance. His furrowed and bronzed face was framed in long locks of white hair, his beard was flowing and gray. Near, on a stool, his face resting in his hands,

was a man of exactly opposite type-youthful as his companion was aged, dress after the North Russian style, and his hair and mustache as black as that of the sage was gray. But with all his youth and health, his mien seemed that of extreme dejection.

"Tell me, O son of the West!' said the old man, raising himself and observing his companion's dejection-' tell me, art thou lonely in this dreary hovel? Do thy studies interest thee. no more?'

"Oh, father!' exclaimed the youth, impetuously, turning and meeting the eye of the patriarch as it gazed searchingly into his, of what use are my wanderings, my studies? My thoughts are ever away, away in Nishni-Novgorod with one. who my heart tells me is lost to me forever.'

"For some moments the gray beard made no reply to this outburst, but, wrapped in silence, gazed thoughtfully into the smouldering fire. At length he spoke:

"Allah is great, Allah is powerful! What is it weighs on thy heart? Thou hast saved Allah's servant from the Russian dog of a Christian-Allah will help thee; what is it weighs on thee?'

"Oh, if your conjurer's art and magic could help me!' exclaimed the youth. They wanted to burn you for a sorcerer; if it be true, if you are master of magic, you can, you will help me.'

"The old man gravely nodded his head; the young man went on with his story:

"A year ago the handsomest girl in all Nishni-Novgorod promised me her heart and hand. I was happiness itself. But her cruel father declared none but a millionaire should ever marry his daughter. I was moderately rich, but where was I to get a million? It was then near the time of the great races. In an evil hour I determined to risk my fortune on the racecourse and win my ladylove or lose all. Day after day I was the first at the betting-stand, and day after day my purse grew thinner and thinner; and then came the last day when, of the

inheritance left me by my father, there remained but a single thousand rubles.'

““What if it is lost?" I thought. "As well without a kopeck as with a beggarly thousand rubles;" and so going to the betting-stand, I placed my last ruble.

"The bell was tapped, the jockeys drew their horses in line, the signal to start was given, and forth they shot like arrows. Around they flew almost as the wind; now at the half-mile post, now obscured by a cloud of dust, now again in sight, the jockeys plying their whips, the fleet-footed animals straining to the utmost. My heart fairly rose to my mouth as I looked at those horses and thought of the wife and fortune that were at stake for me. So far it seemed even, then of a sudden the blue jockey bounded half a length ahead.

"""The Blue! the Blue!" shouted a thousand voices, as the horses came tearing down the home-stretch. The Blue is ahead -it will, it must win! I was almost overcome with excitement. There was a loud cry, a cloud of dust hid the riders from view. When it floated away, there lay the blue jockey pinioned to the ground by his fallen horse. The race was lost-I was ruined! "I left Nishni-Novgorod and the woman I loved, to wander whither I knew nor cared not. Chance led me to the Asiatic frontier. One day, at Saratow, an Oriental was displaying the mysteries of his Eastern magic. The superstitious rabble attacked the sage. I came to the rescue. You know the rest -how we left Sarotow by night, how we crossed the Volga, and, after a weary march across the mountains, at last found refuge in this deserted hovel. Such, oh father, is my story. Of what use then are the mysteries you teach me, since they do not, cannot restore to me my Nikolajewna, my darling, my lost love?'

"During the recital of this story, and for some moments after its conclusion, the patriarch remained silent, as if lost in deep meditation. At length, drawing his shrunken figure to a sitting posture, he turned to his companion, and in low, measured tones thus addressed him:

"Allah is great, Allah is powerful! Though he loves not to

aid the unbeliever, thou hast preserved his servant, and through his servant will he help thee. Thou wouldst regain thy love— 'tis well. The servant of Allah will help thee.'

"But how, oh father, how?'

"Is not Allah great and powerful?' asked the sage, with rebukeful tone. 'Bring me my chest; the servant of Allah will help thee.'

"Obedient to this request, the youth brought forth from a hidden recess a small chest which, the sage opened, disclosing cases of phials, powders, acids, scales, a crucible, and a quantity of strange plants. The Oriental's eye glistened as he gazed on these instruments of his mystic art. Quickly arranging the cases before him, he selected from the many varieties of plants in the chest one of large leaf and long, juicy stem. These he placed in the crucible and subjected to a high temperature. As the plants sizzled and parched, a strong incense filled the low apartment, and a pungently odorous liquid was distilled in the bottom of the vessel. These precious drops the sage watched with careful anxiety; when the leaves were parched dry, the drops were poured in a blue phial, and the baked and crumbling leaves were minutely pulverized. Long into the night was this strange work continued, while the youth sat looking on in distrusting wonder. Noxious gases floated out through the cracks in the rickety walls; the gurgle of liquids poured from one phial into another, telling of strange mixtures and compounds, sounded faintly on the still night air; the desolate hovel was, as by enchantment, transformed into a magician's or chemist's laboratory.

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At length the Oriental paused. Slowly sifting a white, silver powder on the glowing embers, he began an incantation in his strange Eastern tongue. As he spoke, a drowsy incense filled. the room; the youth's head fell on his breast, his eyes closed in sleep. It was in the gray of the morning before he awoke. The sage lay reclining on his pallet.

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Allah's will is done,' said the sage. 'Thou wilt be happy. Go bring from the river a turtle, that I may make clear to thee.'

"On the youth's return, the sage, stretching the turtle on its back, withdrew the legs from under the shell, and proceeded to make a slight incision in the muscles of each leg. Then producing the phial of distilled drops and a hypodermic syringe, he injected in each of the incisions a small quantity of the liquid.

"Now set him without the door.'

"The command was obeyed. The sluggish animal started around the circle within the palisade of firs. As he went, his legs moved faster, he fell into a trot; in a few seconds the turtle's speed had increased with such astounding rapidity that the black shell on his back was scarcely visible-he was literally flying around the ring! The youth stared in amazement at this miracle of turtles, the sage stood calm and smiling.

“Allah is great; his will is done,' he said. 'My son, thou art an unbeliever. It is not permitted to reveal the secret of this compound to the unbeliever, but this phial may be intrusted to thee. A single drop of this oxygenated liquid hypodermically injected in an animal's leg-muscles will result as thou seest in that turtle. It is the Elixir of Rapidity!'

"Now, now the youth understands: with this elixir he may regain his fortune and his love! Falling on his knees before his benefactor, he attempted to pour out his thanks. The patri

arch smiled benignly.

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"Arise, my son.

Thou owest me no thanks.

I but repay

the debt I owed thee. The spirit of Allah is in this elixir; Allah will restore thee thy love. But the servant of Allah must go; he has dwelt long enough in the land of the Christian. Let us part here on the banks of the Ural.'

"The Oriental extended his arms with a parting salaam, while the eyes of the youth filled with tears. His heart had learned to love this lonely wanderer, whose life he had saved from the superstition of a Russian rabble. The sage, who had injected a few drops of the fluid through the skin of his own thighs, began to slowly move away. As the powerful liquid assumed its sway, he waved his companion a last farewell; his weird