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himself on a mossy stone beside a still, deep pool, musing upon what he had seen.

Suddenly he was startled by a voice which asked:

"Why think ye so intently upon the Light and the Sage from whose breast it shone?"

Bertrand looked up and saw one much like the Teacher upon whom he meditated. So he replied without hesitation:

"The Light was glorious, and I felt that so also must the words have been, could I but have understood them."

"The Light is glorious because it proceeds from the One Source. And the words thou hast heard are the words of Truth."

"But tell me," said Bertrand, "what is this which the Sage wears, and of what is it the symbol? To me it seemed like a cross of purest white.'

"It is; and it is worn only by those who are faithful in the service of the Master."

"How is it attained?

May I, even I, hope to reach it?"

"Truly thou may'st. It within the reach of all, even the lowliest."

"But how is it to be won?"

"By seeking the Path and walking therein."

"But tell me, Master, how is the Path to be found?"

"There is but one way: the way of duty. That will lead thee

into the Path.”

"But I am so weak, so ignorant; I know not how to take the first steps: yet would I win and wear the cross."

"As I have said, thou mayest. If thou art fully determined to become a Knight of the White Cross, thy weakness will be aided, thy ignorance guided.”

"O, Master!" cried Bertrand, starting up, "I am truly so determined, I am ready even now to go with thee and to become thy pupil. Shall I follow thee to thy dwelling?"

"Nay," said the Master. "The way for thee lieth not so. Alone must thou walk. Yet at thy need will I come to thee. Farewell!" Even as he spoke the last word he had disappeared. But not before Bertrand had caught a glimpse of the White Cross gleaming on his breast, so that he knew he also was a Knight.

The youth went back to the duties of life. Yet in his heart he carried the memory of these things and the hope of winning the cross. His school-days passed, and he took the place in the world to which his name and rank entitled him. He endeavored to rule his estate with kindness and justice. He wished to enlighten the people and provide the means of education for their children.

the midst of these occupations, surrounded by congenial companions and loving friends, time passed swiftly and pleasantly. Yet he forgot not the words of the Sage, and he longed to receive and wear the shining cross which should proclaim to all his acceptable service to the Master.

One evening as he walked alone musing on these things, the Sage who had promised to become his teacher stood before him. "On what dost thou now meditate?" said he.

"On the duties of life and the way of their performance. Thou said'st the way of duty led into the Path. Have I not walked in

that way?"

"Thou art so walking; but thou hast not yet traveled far." "What more can I do?"

"Nay, ask not of me. Inquire within. There wilt thou find thy highest counseler, there the kingdom wherein thou art to rule." “Then I have not yet earned the cross?”

"Not yet," replied the Sage.

Now there was war in the land and Bertrand went into the field. The war was to decide a question of justice and right; so he fought bravely in the cause of truth. Privations and wounds he bore without murmuring. Most of his wealth he gave to sustain the cause. His estates and territories were laid waste and devastated by the enemy, led on by one who had ever been his rival and his most deadly foe. His beloved wife and a young child perished through fright and exposure, so that his heart was wrung with the anguish of bereavement. But at last there was peace, and what men called right prevailed. Bertrand returned to his ruined and desolate home. Bitterly he thought of him who had wrought the ruin of his family, and sought to find means to avenge them.

One night as he sat alone, mourning over the desolation of his life and hopes, the Sage again stood before him.

"O my Teacher!" cried Bertrand. "Thou findest me indeed changed. Thou hast spoken to me of the kingdom within. · Of a truth none other is left to me. And the inner-it also lieth in ruins."

"But canst thou not rebuild?"

"Nay; my losses are beyond repair. And yet could I but gain the cross, I might, perchance, be able to rise and press on. Hast

thou brought it?"

"Nay, not so. Thinkest thou it is I who can confer it upon thee? There is but One-even the Master-who can do that." 'Where shall I find that Master? Once more I entreat thee, tell me, that I may arise and go to Him."


"And again I answer thee, seek within."

"And what shall I find there save ruin and desolation?" "Thou wilt find the Highest. The only road to the Master whose symbol thou would'st wear lieth through toil and suffering and tears. The Kingdom of Heaven is within. When thou hast found it thou wilt also find the Master whom thou seest, for He dwells there."

Then Bertrand went into the councils of the Nation and for many years he toiled for the public good. He strove to amend the laws; to render the government equal and just; to aid and uphold the rulers who were least selfish and tyrannical. But he met with envy, ingratitude, and injustice. Those who desired. to plunder the public hated and feared him. Constantly they schemed and plotted to ruin him in the estimation of the Rulers and the world.

At last, worn out with cares of State, saddened and depressed by the malice and want of appreciation and gratitude in those he had so arduously labored to serve, he sought again the solitude of his home.

"If I could have gained and worn the cross it would have secured me attention and respect, and my enemies would not so often have triumphed," he murmured sadly as he walked under the great oak trees.

Then again the Sage stood before him and asked,

"Dost thou still desire the cross?"

"When have I ceased to desire it? But it comes not, and I grow less hopeful."

"Nay, then, thou art nearer to it than formerly. But tell me, in all the years that have passed hast thou toiled and suffered for the cross only? Has no taint of ambition and self-seeking mingled with thy desires? Has not the thought of reward been ever with thee? Nay! hast thou not even thought more of the glory of wearing the cross than of serving the Master who would bestow it upon thee?"

Bertrand remained silent for a while. Then he said:

"Of a truth thou readest my heart more clearly than I myself have done. It may be even as thou sayest."

"Yea, truly it is. I have said to thee ever, Look within; for there wilt thou find the Kingdom of Heaven. That Kingdom is composed of thy subjects, and it is thine to instruct and bring them into obedience. All the desires and passions of humanity are thine, thy servants if thou wilt train them into obedience and usefulness. But if thou dost neglect and permit them to rule,

they will make of thee slave and bondsman. Hast thou not read, 'A man's foes shall be they of his own household'? These are thy household. Make of them trusty servants, or they will become. thy most deadly foes. Seest thou now how important it is to conquer thine own kingdom?"

"But this, O Master! is a mighty work.'

"Thou sayest. But it is the work of all who would enter the Path and wear upon their breasts the emblem of the White Cross."

From this day Bertrand ceased to grieve over the apparent failure of all his schemes. He also ceased to cherish feelings of hatred and revenge toward those who had wronged him, and strove to forgive even those who had wrought the ruin of his house and the destruction of his family.

But this was not a thing to be speedily or easily accomplished. He found that the Kingdom within was vaster and more wonderful than all that could be found without. He also found that its subjects were harder to conquer and to keep in subjection than those he had met on the field of battle or in the council chambers of Nations. Nevertheless he would not yield, but kept ever a faithful watch over this kingdom, while busily employed in aiding his neighbors and toiling unceasingly for the welfare of all around him.

Yet many for whom he labored returned him evil for good; and one, the bitter foe who had wrought him so much harm, now openly taunted and reviled him, since he knew that he was striving to walk in the Path and therefore would not return his evil unto himself. And this to Bertrand was the bitterest draught that was pressed to his lips. Again and again he put it aside, declaring that he could not drink. But the thought of the Master would prevail; and a time came when he could listen to his enemy's revilings with calmness and say to him:

"Depart in peace; for thou art my brother, even though thou knowest it not. I will not sin against the Master by failing in love toward thee."

And it came to pass that as he sat one night in his chamber meditating on what he might do to reconcile this foe and turn him toward the Path, the Sage was again with him. A smile was on his face and he said in tones full of love and gladness:

"Peace be with thee, my brother.

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"Nay," replied Bertrand, "I am but thy pupil."

"Tell me, then," said the Sage; "on what dost thou now meditate?"

"On one who is my ancient and most deadly foe."

"And thou wouldst seek revenge?"

"Nay, I would win his love."

"And hast thou ceased to care for the cross, once so highly prized?"

"Nay, Master! but more I prize the winning of my brother." At that moment the cross of the Lodge shone out with such luster that Bertrand's eyes were dazzled by the radiance.

"O Master!," he cried, "how brightly shines the White Cross upon thy breast! Surely among the Knighthood thou art one of the highest."

"Nay, O brother! but look at thine own White Cross! for thou art one of us."

Then Bertrand turned to a large mirror near him and lo! upon his own breast gleamed a cross of glowing light. And it was not of silver; nor was it wrought of any metal nor of precious stones. But it was the pure and lambent flame of Love, the White Symbol of the Master which each must win for himself, and which no man giveth nor can take away.




UR old friend Jerome A. Anderson is now President of the San Francisco T. S., and used to be in the old one, the Golden Gate. He is one of the hard workers who have made the Pacific district famous among us. The picture is as good a one as could be had, but does not show him exactly as he is. He is a slightly-built man who does not look as if he could endure the strain of work we have seen him under. He lives up on the hill near the old Mission and overlooking the city. In his house many theosophists have staid. There Col. Olcott and William Q. Judge lived while they were in San Francisco in 1891, and from there the Colonel went to the steamer that took him to India. It is a pleasant house on 20th street. The Doctor says that after it was built the astral shell of the builder who committed suicide bothered around a little, making noises, and then suddenly left for other regions of kama loka.

His par

Dr. Anderson was born in Indiana, July 25th, 1847. ents emigrated to Kansas a few years later, in which State he

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