"Three Sevens, A Story of Ancient Initiations," by W. P. and M. M. Phelon. All of the above will receive early attention.

EDITORIAL NOTES.

THE reader's attention is called to the advertisement of "Fleur-de-Lis."

WE would call special attention to the announcement on page 386 of this issue, regarding the College Movement.

THE article entitled "The Resurrection" in the February ESOTERIC should have been credited to E. W. Kepner, Springfield, Ill. The signature was inadvertently omitted.

THE poem "Vista Vitæ," by M. T. Martin, is published complete in pamphlet form, price fifteen cents. The first installment of this poem was published in the February Esoteric.

We have an edition of "Magic, White and Black" which we are selling for 50 cents. It is the unabridged work by Hartmann, and usually sells for $2.50. Bound in paper, 280 pp.

We have on hand a few more tables of the Moon's position for 1890 and '91. These extra leaves should be inserted in all Solar Biologies except the last edition. Price, post-paid, 10 cents.

THE ESOTERIC PUBLISHING COMPANY are desirous of disposing of some of their stock, in order to raise funds to enable them more rapidly to push the good work. The price of the stock is ten dollars per share, and it entitles the holder to large book reductions.

WE have secured a stock of Dr. Evan's latest work "Mental Cure," which we think fully equal to all his other excellent books. It is a handsome volume of 364 pages, bound in cloth, price $1.50. It is having a good sale and is receiving fine notices from the press.

OWING to press of other matter, much of it coming late in the month, several articles intended for the March Esoteric were necessarily omitted. Among these were Hudor Genone's, "Miss Bulgore's Bag," "A Prayer For Knowledge," and "Naked Eye Astronomy." We.trust that they may all appear in the April number.

may

WE would urge every subscriber to THE ESOTERIC, as well as every stranger who read these lines, to lose no time in becoming a member of an Esoteric Branch, as outlined in December, January and February Esoterics. We wish it were within our province to show to those who have not already joined, the unspeakable loss to which their indifference is subjecting them. You do not see the glorious outcome, nor shall we tell it to you: it is for each one to work out his or her own salvation. We can only say that those who do not take hold of this work promptly and earnestly, will, when a little latter they perceive their loss, bitterly repent their mistake. CAN WE SAY MORE? If so we would gladly say it. Mr. Chas. H. Mackay is still registering Branches, and the books may still be open for some weeks to come. An immediate application will insure your registration if acceptable. Delay eats out the pith of life!

THE ESOTERIC.

A Magazine of Advanced and Practical Esoteric Thought.

HABRAM IRASCIBLE! commonly called, "The Only," was a proud and peppery monarch, quick to anger, and sudden in many of his ways; so much so that he frequently got himself into difficulties by deciding offhand matters of state-craft about which even a Solon would have puzzled. Habram was fond of playing a game called poker, and such wicked sport, and used often to spend a whole afternoon tossing up sequins with his Prime Vizier.

To balance this gambling habit he had another good one; though he did of all things delight in getting information of any treasonable practices, he thoroughly despised an informer. Profiting by his experience in "toss up," when such fellows came with their stories, he used to say quietly, "heads I win," and then (for so does arbitrary power corrupt the most benign natures) would add in the hearing of the deputy-sheriff, and with a significant gesture towards the offender, "tales, you lose."

So did Habram contrive to rid his kingdom of tattlers. It was an ef fectual way, though I confess somewhat severe for a benign king.

Did I mention that he was benign? Well, he was.

One day the Prime Vizier called to request the royal sanction to an edict of the diet, respecting the re-naming of the Metempsychosis river.

"Why should the river be re-named?" Habram demanded. This was a good thing to say, because, when one is ignorant, nothing so becomes one as a request for information.

The Prime Vizier explained, at more length than I care to, the reasons the diet had for its action. The substance of his explanation was that the word Metempsychosis, although proper enough in the year minus two thousand and seven when the naming was done, had become, by the lapse of time, virtually obsolete. Besides that the name was too long: it wasted breath to say it, and wasted ink to write it. All this the Vizier explained, verbosely, as I think.

"Is any name suggested?" enquired the king. This was a good thing to say too; for when one has a decision to make, it is most wise to let all the others put in suggestions first.

"The name West River," replied the functionary, general favor. It is descriptive; it is short."

66 seems to meet with

So he was going on amplifying; but the king, whose patience was about exhausted, broke in with a frown: "All well enough in its way, but I have a name that is equally descriptive, if not more so, and will waste something less of both breath and ink. Issue a ukase forthwith that the river shall be known henceforth as Wet River."

It was a study in physiognomy to observe the expression upon the countenance of the Vizier. He was astonished. Now astonishment usually strikes people dumb; but it had the effect to strike this estimiable gentleman loquacious.

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Did I hear aright?" he said; " Did I understand your Majesty to say the Wet River?"

"You did," responded the King tartly, "I said the Wet River. Would I be likely to say the dry river?"

A lock of pain passed over the Vizier's fine face. Well did he know how averse was the King to anything dry.

"I can issue the ukase, of course," he observed moodily; "but has your Majesty fully considered this subject in all its bearings? It has been your Majesty's repeated boast that your sublime sway was in the interest of no political party, and now you propose a name which will give offense to some of our very best citizens."

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"I suppose you mean the Prohibitionists," said the King, with a caustic smile. The Vizier nodded. Whether it was the nod, or what, I am sure I cannot say; but suddenly the caustic smile faded from the monarch's face. He wheeled his revolving chair round, and glared at the Vizier, saying as he did so; "What are you, worm as you are, to question my will? Are you going to issue that ukase or not?

"Oh certainly!" said the Vizier nimbly; but, nimble as he was, the King stopped him ere he reached the door. "And in addition to the change of name," said he, "direct that the Nawabal Palaces shall be renumbered. Call the royal residence number one, and so on up." "So on down," corrected the Vizier.

Usually the monarch would have resented such a correction; but there was a subtle compliment in the Vizier's words, and the smile returned to his features.

Let me remark here (while the Vizier goes out to execute the King's behest) that one may do considerable in the way of correction, if one be only sufficiently adroit to use the exact proportion of subtle compliment.

Of all things, I should like to describe the situation of the Wet River, and to paint fine word-pictures of the Nawabal Palaces that lined its banks. I do not lack the time, and I have a fancy that I could do the subject justice; but the question resolves itself unto this: have you the patience? Now I may err, but it occurs to me that you have not.

Let it suffice that the edict of the diet, and especially the act of the King in choosing a re-name, and his further act ordering a fresh numbering of the palaces, and villas, and apartment houses, excited in the minds of the nobility and gentry a most lively dissatisfaction.

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It is disgusting," observed the Nawabess of Bulgore, “low, vulgar, and disgusting. Why, the name means nothing. It might apply to any

river."

"Have you ever been in Madrid, my dear?" said the Nawab, her husband.

"No; where is that?" enquired Mrs. Bulgore, who was not versed in geography.

"In Spain, darling," he replied composedly, and then went on to explain that the river upon whose banks Madrid was situated was practically a dry river. "And the Arno, too, at Florence, love," that is also at certain seasons of the year, dry."

Mrs. Bulgore put on a look of the most intense scorn. "And so you uphold him, do you?" she exclaimed, “you uphold the King in this act of gross usurpation. It is just like you, though; you never have the slightest consideration for my feelings. Does he, Kaleida?"

So saying she turned to her daughter, who was sitting by the window, busily engaged in hemstitching some article of apparel for a church festival.

Kaleida (as her name implies) was a beautiful girl. She had recently finished, with some social success, her seventeenth year. She lifted her large, dreamy, languid eyes. "Will my answer have any effect," she said quietly, "upon my journey to Babylon, and my appearance as Rebecca at the Well' at the festival?"

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Her mother thought a moment, and then answered, though it was evident with some reluctance, "None."

"Then I will answer in the affirmative," said the maiden.

Perfectly satisfied with this reply, which I myself regard as somewhat evasive, the Nawabess went on to tell her husband that he was, "cold, heartless, and unfeeling; "that he disregarded her wishes continually, and that now an additional expense would have to be incurred of engraving new cards, and she presumed it would have to come out of her allow

ance.

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And little enough that is," said she persistently; "if you had the spirit of a true man you would not sit tamely down under the ignominy, but would redress the wrong."

"What would you have me do, dear?" said the Nawab. He spoke gently, as, in such a case, all husbands do. "Do!" she exclaimed passionately, "why, I would have you manifest a proper spirit. Go around among the neighbors, and get up a petition; or perhaps it would be better to start an insurrection. I have heard," she added more calmly, "that when successful, insurrections do great good."

The Nawab did not seem to see his way clear to either course. He therefore, very judiciously, made no special reply. He resumed the eveningpaper; Kaleida continued hemstitching, and Mrs. Bulgore fell to ruminat

ing.

The next morning after breakfast the minions of the Department of Public Works had completed their labors, and on the corner of the river just above the Nawab's palace, (he observed it on his way to the office) was a freshly-painted sign "Wet River." As to the re-numbering, that had been left to each householder's caprice, as usual.

We need not follow Mr. Bulgore to his office. Nothing need be said of it, further than that he transacted a general commission business, and that a certain lawyer, whose name was Mathews, Augustus H. Mathews - had desk-room with the firm. Nor need we, I apprehend, follow Miss Kaleida on her journey to Babylon to attend the church festival. There are only two other places where it appears convenient for us to stop, and if the Reader choose, he (I assume that no lady will have followed me thus far)

may take his pick. There is the Bulgore mansion, with the lady of the house, dressing for lunch. That won't do. You might leave a card at the King's palace, but I wouldn't advise this course, for the King is in so ill a humor that you might leave something beside your card - your head. These being the cases, I see nothing for us to do but to wait till the church festival at Babylon is over, and Miss Bulgore returns to the paternal roof. Perhaps I ought, strictly speaking, to say the maternal roof, for there was a purchase-money mortgage on the palace, which was in the name of the Nawabess; but when one attempts to speak or write with strict accuracy there is absolutely no telling where it will lead one. At all events Miss Bulgore returned. She had a delightful time; at least so she told her mother. Then she went on to tell of a present that had been made to her at the close of the fair, as a slight token of her services (I presume) in personating Rebecca.

"When my bag comes," said Kaleida, "I'll show it to you."

It seems that the bag had been expressed from the depot of the Babylon and Wallabad R. R. It ought to have been at the palace by four P. M. But at four there was no sign of it; nor at five, nor six. At half past six the Nawabess and Kaleida, who were up stairs busy fretting, heard the latch-key of the Nawab at the front door.

"Don't say a word to your father about it, Kaleida," said Mrs. Bulgore; "for pity's sake don't; he will only blame you."

So Kaleida refrained. But it is one thing to refrain negatively, and quite another to refrain actively. I mean-(why is this world so constituted that such a little point needs explanation ?) that to refrain from a subject actively is to inspire others with a counter attraction. Work that out, please! Kaleida had no talent in this direction; the Nawab had an immense one; and an immense one too had he for those little details, attention to which, we are constantly told, counts so much towards success for a business man. "Has your bag come yet, Kaleida?" he enquired, as he was passing his plate for more of the mashed potatoes.

Kaleida blushed and looked up "furtively," as the novelists say.

"Why do you ask that, Nawab?" said Mrs. Bulgore, with a look at her husband that no novelist would ever describe as furtive. Then she added, I fear I must say, tartly, "You are forever snooping and prying into what does not concern you."

The Nawab was an intelligent man. He knew directly, without, you observe, any positive statement to that effect, that something was amiss with the bag.

This sort of intelligence, by which information is received by a species of induction, is not especially uncommon in a business man. But the sort that maintains a judicious silence under the circumstances" at bar” is rare indeed. Mr. Bulgore had it. He said nothing for at least three minutes, and then only remarked that the mashed potatoes were excellent.

The plot of this tale is so entirely thin all through that I am debarred from the use of a customary and convenient phrase. I cannot say it "thickened." when noon of the following day came, and no bag.

But by the noon mail there came an invitation for Kaleida to attend a "hop," or something similar.

"You'll go of course?" said her mother.

"How can I, mamma?" replied Miss Bulgore; "how can I with my best dresses in the bag? Oh! why don't that expressman come ?"