ECHOES of the Wonder Word kept flitting through his mind Why couldn’t he recall it? He remembered that it was all very clear to him at the time, but now it had gone. Why couldn’t he remember what it was about? Was it beauty? Was it love? Was it happiness? He could just remember that it was something which for a time gave him a feeling of great contentment, and he would give anything to get it back.

It seemed such a long long time ago that he had met the Stranger. The Stranger had appeared to him quite suddenly one evening as he sat alone in his peaceful moonlit garden. He could just recall that he had been sitting there quietly for some time, letting the peace and beauty of it all flow through him and soothe him. Every worry of the day had slipped away. Then the Stranger came.

It seemed quite natural that they should be there together. They seemed a part of each other somehow. For a moment it seemed that the Stranger had risen from the exact spot where he himself sat, and stood beside him and began to speak quite naturally about the wonder word. The Stranger spoke slowly and clearly, and every word impressed itself vividly upon his mind, he remembered. The stranger had said that one could use the Wonder Word any time one wished, but he must first be sure that everything was very quiet and peaceful within himself. He had only to be sure of what he wanted, then he could use the Wonder Word, and his desire would be fulfilled.

He had been so anxious to see if it would really happen as the Stranger said it would, that he had at once asked for beauty. Immediately his own lovely garden took on greater beauty. The river at the foot of the garden below where he sat began to sparkle like gold—beautiful lights played on the garden paths, lights that seemed to change from one to another of the tints of the rainbow. They lighted up the flower beds, danced on the fountain, played on the leaves of the trees. Beauty such as he had never dreamed of began to impress itself upon his senses. Sweet melodious sounds came from the stream and the trees, from the paths and the flowers. Nature seemed to be playing upon the strings of many harps.

Using the Wonder Word again he asked for love. Down the moonlit path his wife and beautiful daughter came, their hands outstretched to him, tender love lighting up their faces. Love shone on the face of the Stranger also as he turned to the man with a smile.

A feeling of triumph surged through his mind. “If beauty and love, why not more material things? Yes, wealth!” He must have wealth, he had wanted it for so long! He could do so many things if he were rich. With a query he turned to the Stranger; could he use the word for wealth? The Stranger smiled again, somewhat sadly, the man thought, and nodded assent. Using the magic word once more, his home became almost palatial in its grandeur; the grounds seemed to widen to an estate. His wife and daughter were expensively dressed; his own plain clothes became more costly.

“Why—it worked! It worked for anything, he could have anything he liked; anything his heart desired would be his immediately! It was all so simple too. If he had only known about it before. As he turned again to him the form of the Stranger seemed to grow dimmer and his smile sadder. Surely he wasn’t going to leave him before he had asked for everything he wanted. The Wonder Word mightn’t work if the Stranger left him.

His mind turned from his home to his business. Now that he had the Wonder Word he could do anything he wished there too. As his thoughts turned to the world of business many things came to his memory that he had thought he wanted, things that others had gotten because—well, he couldn’t make up his mind that the means they had used to get them were quite the right things to do. Now his conscience need not bother him no longer. With his new knowledge he had only to speak and the thing happened. There couldn’t be any harm in that. He would speak the word too! From now on he would have what he wanted and not bother, too much about the other fellow. Yes, by heaven, he’d show them; from now on he would have his way. He’d been hurt often enough; well, he’d let the other fellow know what it felt like to be hurt. With the power he had he would do as he liked for the rest of his life.

In his excitement he had not noticed that the evening had become dark and cold; clouds covered the moon and the wind was blowing.

He looked towards the Stranger, but in the dimness could hardly discern his form. He spoke but the Stranger did not answer; he was now trembling as if with the cold. He must get to the Stranger and make him speak, as he suddenly realized he had forgotten the magic word. He rose quickly, and as he did so a flash of lightning nearly blinded him. In the light he saw that he was alone—the Stranger had gone!

Many evenings since then the man had wandered down to his seat in the garden; but the Stranger had not come again. The man thought that if he could only recapture the peace he had felt that night, the Stranger might come.

—o—

HOW wonderful to know the joy Of happy inner living, You learn the truth, you get the proof, Not getting, but by giving. Some stalwart souls are privileged To have this gift from birth, Others suffer valiantly To prove their noble worth. When you will let your better self Control your thoughts each day, You’ll find you are so happy In a radiant sort of way, And when you’ve truly freed yourself From worry, grief and fear, You’ll find you have a perfect life Upon this earthly sphere. —Helen Thomas Bucher.

GERTRUDE MARIE GREENE announces that “Ye Old Stone House,” near Rochester, N. Y., will be open for appointments beginning May first. Private teachings, classes, room and board, all on a free-will offering basis.

Write her care R. F. D., Churchville, N. Y., for reservations.

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