ven face and snow-white hair, apparently
about forty years old. But there was something about his looks and
actions that I did not like, and I tried to avoid him as much as
possible. But he was not to be avoided very easily, and, after
persistently following me all over Europe, he crossed the ocean in the
same steamer, and finally came to my home in Chicago. He got to be such
a nuisance that he was refused admittance to our house, and in order to
get rid of him entirely, I secretly left Chicago and went abroad again.
A few months afterward I returned home, and found that he had left for
parts unknown, and the incident was soon forgotten.

"'During the month of March, 1903, about two and a half years later,
important business called my father to New York for a stay of several
months, and mother and I, accompanying him, we took apartments at the
Opulent Hotel, on Broadway, near Seventy-eighth street.

"'About that time I decided to visit the different institutions of New
York, and one day as I was being shown through a charity ward of the
Ruff Hospital, I was astonished to see John Convert lying sick upon one
of the cots. He had a wild and peculiar stare in his eyes and at first
gave no sign of recognition, but seemed to be undergoing an intense"
mental strain, as if trying to recall to mind some event that had
escaped his memory. The doctor informed me that he was an unidentified
charity patient suffering with typhoid fever and was evidently insane.
He told me that the man imagined he had been in a trance for over four
thousand years, and could only be brought out of it by a kiss from one
he called Arletta. My heart seemed to melt with pity and sorrow, and my
dislike changed into love for the man upon hearing these words, and
without hesitation I kissed him, at the same time hoping most sincerely
that the act would have a salutary effect. Strange as it may seem, the
whole expression of his countenance changed instantly as if by some
magic force; his eyes lighted up radiantly, and looking at me in great
astonishment he uttered my name-Arletta. But while I was quite elated
over my strange success, I was also much surprised and puzzled at his
following utterances, whereby he claimed that I was the re-incarnated
soul of Arletta of Sageland, who, according to his story, had died on
the same day I was born, over twenty-one years before, and from which
time he could form no recollection of events whatever.

"'Subsequently, I