Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/141



136

BONNET. “Patience, Mr. Reed. I am not through yet. Now watch how rapidly and bow beautifully it revolves in a circle.”

He started the car in a circle of some four feet in diameter. It commenced slowly to make the circuit—then faster, faster, faster—until it seemed to lie on the floor a large ring of polished steel, perfectly motionless. I watched it for about ten minutes. I was thunder-struck; my brain was becoming bewildered.

“Beautiful! splendid!” J cried, in ecstasy.

Mr. Miles took up the car with an evident air of satisfaction, and placed it on the table.

“T am delighted to know that you are pleased with it,” he said. ‘I was sure that you could appreciate it. It would run for hours in that way. <A large car can be constructed on the same principle; of course, some person must be on board of it to contro) and govern its velocity. There’s a motor, Mr. Reed! No expense—no cost——no fuel, water or heated air!”

“But you have not told me what the motor is, Mr. Miles.”

‘Haven't I? Well—bend your ear over.”

He glanced rapidly around the room, and there was such a fire streaming from his eyes, that I would not have thought it strange had there been a smell of singed whiskers in the room!

He whispered in my ear, in a very low, soft, dry tone,

“Quicksilver, sir!’’

Quicksilver!” I cried, half jumping from my chair.

Hush—hush! For heaven's sake exercise: more caution. Yes, quicksilver. Look here.”

As he spoke, he unscrewed a small cap at the end of one of the arms in the fly-wheel, and poured some quicksilver out of it into the hollow of his hand.

“Are you convinced, Mr. Reed? These arms are all hollow, and partly filled with the liquid meta]. As the wheel revolves, the quicksilver, in flowing from the hub to the tire, and back again, keeps up the motion, and increases it with each evolution. Of course, by additional machinery, an even, regular motion could be obtained.”

Astounded as I was, a thought flashed across my brain, and I very indiscreetly out with it.

“Ab, but—Mr. Miles—how will you get it to run up bill?”

His countenance assumed a look of blank dis- may—he pushed back the bushy hair from his forehead—then rose abruptly to his feet.

I shrank away from the burning, maniacal glare of his cyes.

“Up bill? Up hill? It has no business up hill! If it has, that can soon be remedied. Not another objection to it, sir. Look here, Mr. Reed—you alone possess my eecret—a discovery for which I have studied and toiled and labored for years. The sccret shall die with you.”

Seizing my revolver, which, as I have said, Isy carelessly upon the table, be leisurely drew sight upon my vest buttons.

I sprang back to the farthest corner of the room. My face was livid, and the perspiration oozed from me in great drops. His eyes glared upon me like a tiger’s—like a demon’s.

He pulled the trigger—o report followed, a line of smoke curled awny from the sweating barrel, and I lay writhing in agony on the floor.

How Tong I remained io that position I know not. I at last became conscious of a violent shaking, accompanied with,

“Myr. Reed—Mr. Reed! Ho, Ralph!”

Opening my eyes, I beheld my friend Rivers bending over me.

“What in the world is wrong, Reed?” he asked, half seriously, half comically.

‘Who shot?” I asked.

“Who shot?” and Rivers’ musical laugh filled the room. ‘*Who shot? why I shot you with a champagne cork! Look here!”

He led me, still bewildered, to the table. Two bottles of delicious wine were in readiness.

Oh, I see!” I cried, rubbing my eyes, ‘you have brought in some——”

“Champagne—and you have been experiment- ing in——”

‘Hachisch!”

We had a merry time that evening, and* it costs Rivers a new sect of ve=t buttons whenever I refer to my being ‘‘ALONE WITH A MANIAC!”

SONNET.

WRITTEN IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.  I gaze upon her marble brow, Where death has set his signet now; She wears a look so sweet and mild, It seems as if she only smiled, Her form is pulseless, cold and still, And yet the gazer feels no thrill, Such is tho softness and the grace.

That resteth on her calm, pale face It speaks of gentleness and love— Of peace that cometh from above, And of a pure and holy faith, That giveth victory over death, Such as I hope to prove with her, When be shall be my conqueror. 