Page:Isis very much unveiled - being the story of the great Mahatma hoax (IA b24884273).pdf/125

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I reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James; I am not fond of pious frauds or Oriental games; And I’ll tell in simple language, as well as I can say, What broke up our Society upon the Himalay.

But first I would remark that there must needs be painful scenes When Theosophic gents begin to give each other Beans; And though Mahatma missives do pan out a little queer, We should avoid disturbances in the Mahatmosphere.*

Now nothing could be nicer or more full of harmony Than the first few months that followed the decease of “H.P.B.”; Till Judge of Calaveras produced a curious set Of missives in red pencil what he said were from Tibet.†

From these he reconstructed a Mahatma (very rare), A Nest of that peculiar kind pertaining to a Mare; But Mrs. Besant found a rival missive on the shelf,‡ And said she fancied Mr. Judge had written his himself.§

Then Judge’s smile took on a most unpleasant sort of curve; He said he would not trespass so on Mrs. B.’s preserve. He was a most resourceful man, that quiet Mr. Judge: He got another missive saying Mrs. B.’s was fudge.||

Now, it is not edifying for a Theosophic priest To call another one a fraud—to all intents, at least; Nor should the individual who happens to be meant Reply by throwing things about to any great extent

Then Olcott, H., of Adyar, raised a point of order, when A chunk of old red pencil took him in the abdomen;¶ And he smiled a kind of sickly smile and curled up on the floor, And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.**