hem in and
tacked some curtains over the glass doors. The inspector from the
insurance office passed a half-dozen times before the case without
suspicion.

That night, after getting my policy, I set fire to the house and
started through the woods to town, two miles away, where I managed to
be found about the time the excitement was at its height. With cries
of apprehension for the fate of my parents, I joined the rush and
arrived at the fire some two hours after I had kindled it. The whole
town was there as I dashed up. The house was entirely consumed, but
in one end of the level bed of glowing embers, bolt upright and
uninjured, was that book-case! The curtains had burned away, exposing
the glass-doors, through which the fierce, red light illuminated the
interior. There stood my dear father "in his habit as he lived," and
at his side the partner of his joys and sorrows. Not a hair of them
was singed, their clothing was intact. On their heads and throats the
injuries which in the accomplishment of my designs I had been
compelled to inflict were conspicuous. As in the presence of a
miracle, the people were silent; awe and terror had stilled every
tongue. I was myself greatly affected.

Some three years later, when the events herein related had nearly
faded from my memory, I went to New York to assist in passing some
counterfeit United States bonds. Carelessly looking into a furniture
store one day, I saw the exact counterpart of that book-case. "I
bought it for a trifle from a reformed inventor," the dealer
explained. "He said it was fireproof, the pores of the wood being
filled with alum under hydraulic pressure and the glass made of
asbestos. I don't suppose it is really fireproof--you can have it at
the price of an ordinary book-case."

"No," I said, "if you cannot warrant it fireproof I won't take
it"--and I bade him good morning.

I would not have had it at any price: it revived memories that were
exceedingly disagreeable.

THE HYPNOTIST

By those of my friends who happen to know that I sometimes amuse
myself with hypnotism, mind reading and kindred phenomena, I am
frequently asked if I have a clear conception of the nature of
whatever principle underlies them. To this question I always reply
that I neither have nor desire to have. I am no investigator with an
ear at the key-hole of Nature's workshop, trying with vulgar curiosity
to steal the secrets of her trade. The interests of s