and also in the remote parts of the Highlands (see notes to Archibald Clerk’s translation of ’Ossian’), are also electric, but in a different way—­they have the property of absorbing disease and destroying it in certain cases; and these, after being worn a suitable length of time, naturally exhaust what virtue they originally possessed, and are no longer of any use.  Stone amulets are considered nowadays as a mere superstition of the vulgar and uneducated; but it must be remembered that superstition itself has always had for it a foundation some grain, however small and remote, of fact.  I could give a very curious explanation of the formation of orchids, those strange plants called sometimes “Freaks of Nature,” as if Nature ever indulged in a “freak” of any kind!  But I have neither time nor space to enter upon the subject now; indeed, if I were once to begin to describe the wonderful, amazing and beautiful vistas of knowledge that the wise Chaldean, who is still my friend and guide, has opened up and continues to extend before my admiring vision, a work of twenty volumes would scarce contain all I should have to say.  But I have written this book merely to tell those who peruse it, about Heliobas, and what I myself experienced in his house; beyond this I may not go.  For, as, I observed in my introduction, I am perfectly aware that few, if any, of my readers will accept my narrative as more than a mere visionary romance—­or that they will admit the mysteries of life, death, eternity, and all the wonders of the Universe to be simply the natural and scientific outcome of A ring of everlasting electric heat and light; but whether they agree to it or no, I can say with Galileo, “E pur si muove!”

CHAPTER XVII.

Conclusion.

It was a very simple and quiet procession that moved next day from the Hotel Mars to Pere-la-Chaise.  Zara’s coffin was carried in an open hearse, and was covered with a pall of rich white velvet, on which lay a royal profusion of flowers—­Ivan’s wreath, and a magnificent cross of lilies sent by tender-hearted Mrs. Challoner, being most conspicuous among them.  The only thing a little unusual about it was that the funeral car was drawn by two stately white horses; and Heliobas told me this had been ordered at Zara’s special request, as she thought the solemn pacing through the streets of dismal black steeds had a depressing effect on the passers-by.

“And why,” she had said, “should anybody be sad, when I in reality am so thoroughly happy?”