The king of Rajpootana, was a tall, broad shouldered, ugly Indian. He was black as night, and had heavy, short, straight, black hair; his eyes were black and piercing. Any one would fear him as soon as they looked into those wicked, fiery eyes. He had eyes of a demon, his face was large, broad and brutal. He seemed to be a great, strong, powerful animal without a soul. This wicked king owned a great palace in the northern part of the Araville mountains. He ruled over a large tribe of fighting Indians, who did just as their king commanded. One of his favorite spies told him of a rich prince who owned a large gold mine, the richest he ever saw. The king was wild with delight and gave his spy a new sword, and many lovely jewels. King Pootana soon armed his tribe, then moved south to capture this rich mine. The king accumulated all his wealth by stealing from other kings. The drums were beating weirdly, as the dusky tribe moved stealthily down the mountain side, hiding safely now and then in the deep, thick, dark, dense forest which was the home of many kinds of poisonous reptiles. The wicked spy led his king’s tribe safely up the hillside until they came in sight of the old dome on the temple, then they crawled on their hands and knees for miles for fear of being detected. They crawled safely among the trees up to Lytton Springs. Here they rested awhile in the forest.

Higher up in the mountains a Hindoo ceremony was being performed by Terah, the high priest. Two young priests who graduated at Delhi the same time the Doctor did, assisted in the ceremony. One had a temple at Ellora, the other at Loodiana, two large cities in India. The old temple was decorated with gorgeous tropical flowers. The altar was one massive bank of red and white roses. The bride and her maids carried large bouquets of lillies of the valley. Kezia wore long white silk robes, the sash embroidered with lillies of the valley. She wore Princess Mara’s wedding veil, also a long string of large pink pearls that Prince Cresto gave her at the ceremony. A slave carried a large casket of precious jewels for the bride. The guests were all of high caste. All were merry, congratulating the bride and kissing her. The gentlemen were throwing lovely buds and flowers at the happy couple. The high priest, Terah, is telling of his secret marriage when he was a young priest in Nizagapatum, a lovely city on the Bay of Bengal:

“My dear old high priest saw in a vision that Sizuna was my soul mate, that God had made us for each other. This ancient seer told me I would find her in the province of Bengal, a mile south of the capital of Calcutta. He described her, told me her name, age and all about her people. I went to the place and found it just as he foretold. All was just as he prophesied. Our King opposed the wedding, so we were married secretly. We went to a small isle at the mouth of the Ganges. There were four lovely little islands here. I took charge of a temple on the one called Sundeep; the names of the other three were Hattiah, Dakhin, and Shaboz. I was the happiest priest in the world. We loved and served the people day and night, never growing tired in doing good. We gave all our wealth to the poor in Calcutta and to our temple. She named our dear old temple, ‘The Temple of the Soul.’ And it was in every sense of the word. You, my dear children, could not believe the wonderful things that happened there in our circle. In that lovely temple we had three large golden symbols inlaid in our marble altar—the cross, triangle and circle; the circle representing God, the Universal Soul. India is the birthplace of all religions—the Eden—the conjugal circle of soul. The soul is everything to a true Hindoo. Some priests in India almost starve in order to develope the soul.

“One dark night Sizuna and I were praying in our lovely little home near the temple, which was surrounded on all sides with grapes, fruit, lovely birds and flowers, and was near the temple, when at midnight we heard an awful cry in the darkness, ‘The waters! The waters!’ A great cyclone arose and rolled the sea over those four lovely isles, and a population of 340,000 to 350,000 people were drowned, only those being saved who had climbed to the tops of the highest trees. Did you ever hear of such an awful cyclone? I pray God you may never see what we saw that awful black night of sorrow. For hours I held Sizuna on the housetop. I kissed her cold, pale lips and soon saw she was dead. Cold and fear had killed her while she lay in my arms. I gave up, broken hearted, and sank in the waters. When I came to the top again, two tall, lovely angels with light around their beautiful heads held me firmly out of the waters. They floated me gently and lovingly to a tall tree. There I clung until the waters receded into the sea. Every day since that sad night my twin soul, Sizuna has been with me. I see her and hear her talk the same as she did before the flood. I have always been true to this one sweet soul—my only love—I never can love another.”

After the sad story Prince Cresto and Princess Mara moved slowly up the isle and shook hands and shed tears of sympathy over his sad fate. Terah asked them to dry their eyes and be happy, for he could see his bride with them now just as lovely, young and happy as our beautiful Kezia was this moment. The Prince and stately Mara moved down to the door, and all the guests started for home, where a great feast was all ready for them. Prince Cresto saw a tribe of enemies below. He closed the massive doors and kept the great crowd inside.

“My poor brothers and sisters, keep close to me as you can, for a wicked tribe is here to kill us. I have a secret gold mine near here that in some unknown way they have discovered. That casket of jewels with the others we all have in our possession, will hire us a ship at Mandavee. Rich Jews own many big ships there and will do anything for money. I will direct you to a secret door in the rear where we all can escape.”

They all followed the prince to the door. The Doctor dashed away from his folks to save the poor patients. Kezia ran after him, crying, saying, “I will die with you! I would rather die than ever be parted from you.”

Pootana’s spy saw him and drew his bright new sword on the Doctor. The Doctor quickly caught his wrist and broke his arm in the struggle. Then ran the blade through the wicked black heart of the Indian.

“Come quickly, Kezia dear, we must get to the Springs at once. Darling child, why didn’t you fly with father and mother, where you would be safe from all danger? My wife, my love, forgive me for not going with you while I could escape. I see it is wicked King Pootana and his fierce tribe, who worship the goddess Kali, otherwise known as Devi or Durga, the Hindu goddess of destruction, and consort of Siva.”

Persus took the spy’s new sword and ran to the head of the army, he and his men killing one-third of the enemy’s men. Devi whispered to Pootana to kill Persus and steal Kezia. King Pootana saw the lovely bride in the distance and sent his men to capture her. She was caught and carried to their king, fainting as they took her. Persus fought like mad. Pootana’s men outnumbered his ten to one. Pootana took lovely Kezia for his own bride. This cruel, ugly, black Indian held the fair Egyptian bride in his arms, then told Persus he had won a sweet, handsome, white bride as well as his father’s gold. Persus was permitted to kiss Kezia good-bye. As the young husband held his bride in his arms, he quickly reached for his dagger—he always carried one,—and plunged it in Kezia’s soft white breast. She fell forward and died in her husband’s arms without a pain—there was a wonderful poison on the dagger that killed instantly. Doctor Persus had discovered this strange poison in a flower of the forest. The king reached for the dagger—not knowing it was poisoned—and the Doctor thrust it through his heart, the black king died at his feet. The revengeful black god Siva and his Hindu goddess Kali now influenced the minds of the rest of the king’s tribe to take the Doctor prisoner. The men obeyed Siva, also carried all the gold and jewels they could find in his home away. Later the tribe marched with Persus to Mandavee. The men gave the Prince of Mandavee part of the gold and jewels to put our poor Doctor in a narrow cell half filled with dirty water from the Arabian sea,—this was against the laws of India, all men had a right to protect their family and property. Our poor, good, innocent Doctor was taken a prisoner on his own land trying to protect his wife. Our forlorn Doctor was cold, ill and hungry; slaves would abuse him shamefully when he would ask for food and water. Later Terah, the priest, came to the prison; he had walked all the way disguised as a slave. They cast him in the same cell, or little dungeon, and then told the poor Hindu to starve to death with his master, not knowing he was a priest of high caste. Terah took from his breast a bag of dates and nuts and bottle of wine. Persus ate and drank a little, and handed it back to the dear, kind priest.

“Persus, child, my guardian angel showed me clairvoyantly I would soon be with my twin-soul. I will tell you the vision as I, an old man, saw it. As I lingered a moment by the altar of roses, I saw my own long lost bride in all her pure white robes, her lovely flowers and long white lace veil, standing by my side, with her beautiful pink and white arms full of pure fragrant lillies. My bride pictured me on a bier near the altar. She scattered all her sweet flowers on my shrouded, then held up a wonderful jeweled crown over a pure gold cross; then again showed me clairvoyantly, a big sheet of black samite on which was written in white letters showing plainly on the black, ‘Go quickly to Mandavee!’ The letters vanished, then I saw, on the black sheet, yourself, on the right hand of you I saw your Kezia in her bridal robes beckoning me to come to you. I saw my own wife put her arms around your bride and smile. I knew at once they were together on the astral plane. Doctor, did she die peacefully?”

“Yes, dear father, I killed her without a pain. The Bloody Black King took her for his own. I implored to just let me kiss her good bye. To my surprise he did. I killed them both rather than see her live a life of shame and constant misery. I could not live and know that she would be his slave, then in her old age be killed by inches.”

“You did right to kill them both; for God made man to protect woman, if it is just—in your case it was, it was just!

“Persus, my child, I came here eagerly to save your life. In three days I will die, for it is my time to go. I heard a voice tell me so. They told me the same again and again. I know it is true. As soon as I am dead your band will put you in a deep trance. They will think we are both dead and put us in one big bag, then throw us together into the Arabian sea. You may have my cross and gold. Your angels will take you out of this trance while in the sea; an old fisherman by the seashore will take you to his home, if you make the sign of the cross; then press his hand three times, firmly.”

The Doctor waited three days and every hour was heaven to them both; they learned so much together. Our dear old seer died just the hour he said he would. Persus got his money, dagger and clothes. Then a little later he heard footsteps in the hall and at the same time felt himself sinking into a trance. He found the old fisherman by the seashore Persus went home with him. Many weary days he spent with the good old seaman recovering from the sickness of the dungeon. Then he went back to the noble Prince of Mandavee and proved his innocence. The good prince of Mandavee took his tribe up the hills of Araville. Persus recaptured his father’s rich mineral possession and gave the prince half of all he had. The Doctor became a famous author, and died a priest in the very temple where he was married. Many hundred years have passed and still his books are read all over the world. The story of Persus has taught the world that many innocent souls have been cast into prison for the sake of their money, then shamefully abused. It is a terrible, cowardly crime to abuse a person deprived of their liberty. If we wrong or abuse others, God will punish us severely later. How beautiful it is to treat humanity lovingly and tenderly at all times. Prince Cresto, with his wife and daughter, met the remainder of his own tribe that escaped from Lytton Springs. The Black King had killed most of Prince Cresto’s men. After experiencing great difficulties we managed to get to Mandavee, then hired a big ship and set out to sea. That night the ship sailed slowly—sailed away from all that was dear to them. They left sunny old India with broken hearts. Their lives would never be safe there after they discovered the gold mine. Big fish eat up the little ones on the hills of India; one king robs the other. There is no such thing as the equality of man there. After a long voyage they rested a few months at the Philippines. They formed classes and taught their religion. Most of the natives believed the same as they did. Later they bought the old ship from the cold-hearted Jew. One man owned as much of the boat as the other did; they were all one family and shared alike. Poor Princess Mara and Sita had charge of the casket, and all the valuable jewels, only half of the jewels had been sold. They left the Jew and his crew on the island and set sail again. The old ship seemed like home then for it was their very own. In a few weeks they came to a narrow neck of land,—that which joins the two Americas,—which was pierced by a narrow strait of water. The two massive rocks that towered above them on either side as they passed through made them feel how infinite God was and how finite man. Scarcely had they passed through safely when a sound deafened them; a noise like a peal of thunder rent the air. The ship trembled like an aspen leaf from prow to stern. They looked back. The mighty rocks had clashed together and filled the strait of water with rocks and gravel. They bowed their heads and thanked God for His love and protection. They sailed on to the Gulf of Mexico and entered the harbor of New Orleans. It was so low there, they left and sailed up the Mississippi river, then up the Escawtawpa. Here they sailed into a raft of logs; the old boat was wrecked, every person sank in an awful storm, excepting two young slaves of the tribe. They have handed this story down from one tribe to another—from father to son to this day.