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He wore a red and golden attire, a round hat of the most queer shape, which reminded me of the coachman’s headdress among my own Russian people ; a large white beard completed the likeness. “ W e ll; who is this? And what are you moaning and grumbling over me for?” said I, when recovered from my first surprise. “ This is quite like you,” he cried. “ Just returned to life, and asking questions about indifferent things. He is the yeoman. . . . the keeper . . . One of the official guardians of the Tower. And how do you- feel now ? ” “ How do I feel ? . . . I am very well, thank you.” “ V ery w e ll! . . And you just recovering from a dead swoon ! What was the matter with you, for goodness’ sake ? W hy did you not tell me at once that you felt ill ? ” “ I felt ill ? But— not at a ll! I felt perfectly well indeed, and enjoyed myself, I can assure you, for I saw a wonderful sight. I have seen the arrival of Anne Boleyn at this very place! Henry V III. meeting her at the main entrance . . . O, it was an exceedingly beautiful and striking pro­ cession, I tell you. After that, I saw her judged and sentenced. Oh, the lawless, monstrous deed ! I saw the poor, young, harmless thing led to the scaffold. I rushed to her rescue— and then . . . all dis­ appeared . . . I felt as if I could tear the headsman to pieces.” “ Oh, indeed? . . . Hush! Don’t ! ” ........... were the distressed and pleading entreaties of my poor friend. He was frightened to death lest he should have to take me to a lunatic asylum, instead of my home. “ Now, don’t ! . . . Do for goodness’ sake be calm ! ” he went on. “ Why you must be very ill indeed. You are delirious, my dear madam.” . . . “ Delirious yourself! ” cried I. “ I never was more in earnest. I have seen all this and much more I tell you.” “ Yes, yes! Certainly you did,” said he soothingly. “ But now, you see, we must go home. You are overtired, indeed you are. I have sent for a cab.” . . . “ What for ? Am I to go home without looking inside these towers ? Now, when I am most interested and eager to see them ? Go home ! ’’ I indignantly protested. “ Take the cab for yourself! I will not.” . . . “ This is impossible. You may feel worse. . . . W e will come here to-morrow, but you must have some rest first,” implored the poor man. “ I have had rest enough,” replied I, so very decisively that he was taken aback. “ Now, give me your arm and show me the Tower, or I will go along by myself. I am neither mad, nor sick, nor tired, and I will have m y own way.” And so I had. ■ But do and say all I may, my companion— and indeed no one— would believe that I really saw the terrible old drama performed once more before my eyes, and by the true actors of old. So much the worse for sceptics— because I did see it, and I assert it. V e r a P. J e l i h o v s k y .

13H.P. Blavatsky & M. Collins, editors - Lucifer Vol. III, No. 13 September, 1888  

Source : The International Association for the Preservation of Spiritualist and Occult Periodicals (IAPSOP, www.iapsop.com), digitized by Go...

13H.P. Blavatsky & M. Collins, editors - Lucifer Vol. III, No. 13 September, 1888  

Source : The International Association for the Preservation of Spiritualist and Occult Periodicals (IAPSOP, www.iapsop.com), digitized by Go...

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