Don Miguel Lehumada: discoverer of liquid from the sun's rays an occult romance of Mexico and the United States

The private study of Señor Guillermo Gonzales, in the State House of Chihuahua, always had an air conducive to study.

His fame as a scientist, as a man of great moral force, as a man who lived his daily life in a highly spiritual manner, was broadcast in the land.

His most casual acquaintances unconsciously grew thoughtful, studious, and better by knowing him.

He was of purely Mexican origin, and his friends delighted in calling him “Señor” Gonzales—as was the custom of the people when Chihuahua was one of the States of “The Republic of Mexico,” a nation long since only known as having existed by reading from the pages of history.

The great love and respect constantly shown him by his daily associates proved the exception to the rule that “A prophet is not without honor save in his own country and amongst his own kin.”

He was not honored as mankind was honored in the nineteenth century—for his social, political or financial position—but for his moral, intellectual, and spiritual development.

Julio Murillo, a fellow student who acted in the capacity of office-man, was a small but well-built typical Mexican, nearing the end of his fifth incarnation.

He spent no time regretting his past actions, nor fearing the future.

Every moment he lived the best in him, and studied to make “the best” better on the morrow.

On the morning our story opens he had finished his regular rounds of tidying the reception-chamber, and was at work in a small alcove room adjoining, on the properties extracted from the sun’s rays, by means of a glass chemical instrument. At the focus the rays were liquidized, separated, and blended into “Memory Fluid.”

Although the analysis under way was exceedingly interesting to him, he was not in the least disturbed, when a noise much resembling the faint tingling of a small silver bell announced that he must leave his pleasant occupation and receive some visitor.

When he reached the reception-room he stood with his hand upon the knob of the door, which he was about to open to admit a visitor, when a beautiful smile overspread his countenance and he murmured: “It is his Honor.”

The door opened noiselessly and a man in every way worthy the name of man stood before him.

“Your Honor,” he said, extending his hand in greeting, which was eagerly seized by the visitor, “pass, sir, and be seated; Señor Gonzales will receive you in a very short time. There—the clock is striking the half hour; in fifteen minutes he will be at your Honor’s service. The morning paper, your Honor? Wonderful discoveries in Science, in Art, in Man.”

The visitor thanked Julio Murillo as he took the paper, and seating himself in one of the many comfortable chairs in the room, he said:

“I have read the paper, sir; others than our kind are no doubt astonished at its contents. There will be more convincing statements made within thirty days. In fact, I believe our evidence will be so strong, that everyone will believe the history of the case and the matter will be forever settled soon.

“I am sure your investigations, Julio, will strengthen our case materially. Now, sir, I beg of you to continue your absorbing study, and I will remain here in meditation until Señor Gonzales grants me an interview. One cannot give too much time to thought, so do me the favor not to detain yourself longer.”

Julio Murillo shook hands with the distinguished visitor, and with much the same smile he had on entering the room, he left to resume his scientific investigations.

The large, handsome, princely looking visitor walked the richly covered floor thoroughly wrapped in pleasant and highly scientific meditations.

He was not long kept waiting for his host’s welcome.

He stooped to pick up a nosegay which dropped from his coat, and when he raised his head, Guillermo Gonzales stood before him, by the side of his writing-table, with outstretched hands.

The partition separating the two rooms had disappeared as if by magic, and they stood alone in one grand room.

A giant was not at hand, nor neither were the powers of a magician employed to make the partition disappear so quickly. It was constructed on the same plan as sliding-doors, but it moved with more rapidity and much less noise.

The two distinguished men greeted each other with the embrace and handshake characteristic of their ancient Mexican ancestors.

In the privacy of his study Guillermo Gonzales always addressed the friend of his youth,—and his friend during the other lives which they had lived generations ago in the Republic of Mexico, ay, in the same city where they now lived—the capital of Chihuahua—in the most familiar schoolboy fashion.

“Miguey, my boy, this is indeed a most pleasant surprise. You returned when?”

The friend of the scientist was none other than the renowned man of letters and the Governor of Chihuahua, Señor Don Miguel Lehumada.

“Last night, only, my friend. I have much to tell you,—much to tell you.”

The scientist drew a large, comfortable chair on either side of the table on which he had been conducting his most recent experiments, and motioning his friend to the seat, they sat down facing each other.

“I, too, have things of importance to relate. Your Honor, proceed; my whole attention is yours.”

The Governor leaned his handsome head on the back of his chair with a grace befitting the man he was, and said:

“What I have to tell will not startle you, nor did it surprise me when I learned it.

“A volcanic eruption could not have created more of a sensation over the entire United States, or in all Europe, than is now taking place on account of the knowledge they have of our scientific discoveries. However, to come to the point, I positively located, during my recent visit to the North, ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”

Guillermo Gonzales arose from his chair and clasped his friend in his arms.

“Miguey, dear, dear Miguey, victory is ours! Pardon my enthusiasm! While I know we are working the right clue, I am overjoyed that you should have the pleasure of locating ‘The Plunger!’”

The scientist did not resume his seat; but instead walked somewhat nervously and in deep thought back and forth before his honored guest.

The Governor continued: “I met him on the streets of Kansas City. It was a mutual recognition. He even stopped, and said in a confused manner:

“‘Pardon me, sir, but are you not Governor of Chihuahua? You do not know me?’

“‘Yes,’ I replied, without a moment’s reflection: ‘You are the “Plunger from Kansas.”’

“He turned very white and shook like an aspen leaf.