Only Love, Part 4

Only Love, Part 4

Liz and Vic talk about Vic’s conflict with Molly. Liz longs to speak her truth, but that old devil fear squelches her voice.


I’d been at Whaler for a year and a half when, in February of 1985 (ten years to the day after my palm reading by Aurora) Vic sat at the back desk, peeling an orange. Freshly shaved, he smelled like Ivory soap. I wished I’d dabbed on some provocative perfume. We were talking about Fred, a henpecked fireman whose wife made him brush the cat’s teeth, and how Fred avoided home chores by volunteering for overtime every chance he got.

“Why doesn’t Fred tell his wife to let the vet do it?” I asked.

Vic shrugged. “He needs to grow a backbone, speak his mind. Pussyfooting around ain’t no good way to live.”

“I hate to admit it, but sometimes I pussyfoot, too.”

“Oh?” Vic raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

How would Vic react if I told him what a wimp I was? Nervously, “If I speak up to my boyfriend Billy, he yells. Then I clam up.”

Vic shook his head. “Don’t let nobody shut you up or put you down.”

Definitely a wimp. I stuttered, “You…you’re…right, of course.”

Vic bit into a section of orange and handed some juicy slices to me. The sweet taste exploded in my mouth. “Take me now.” He pointed at his chest. “I got no problem saying no. Take my girlfriend Molly. I poured a can of oil on top of her car.”

Oh no. Maybe he’s more like Billy than I thought. “You did what?”

Vic said she’d borrowed a hundred dollars, promising to give it back on payday. Then she reneged, saying he made more money than she did.

“I told her she’d need more than a hundred bucks to clean up her car if she didn’t give me back my green. She laughed, said, ‘You’ll get over it.'”

“Wow. What are you more upset about, her breaking a promise or the money?” Molly must be nuts to risk losing Vic like that.

Vic rubbed his chin. “The promise. I was still steamed before I left for work, so I…”

“Look, I can see why you got angry.”

He frowned. “She pissed me off.”

“She ought to apologize, promise not to break a promise again.”

He nodded. “Yep, that’s what she should do. That’s what you’d do. Am I right, Liz?”

My cheeks heated up. “If I thought I’d done wrong. Maybe she was low on dough?”

“Yep. Low down, too. She comes bopping into my pad with…” he imitated a woman’s voice and gestures, “…three totally cool outfits from Liberty House. Bought with my green!”

“Still, I’m surprised you’d do such a thing.”

Vic thought this over, finally said, “You’re right. That stunt was beneath me. I’ll apologize to Molly, clean up her car.”

Vic listens to me! I wish Billy would. Shaking my head, “Broken promises, broken trust. Silly girl…”



“I like talking to you.”

I flushed, stuttered, “Di…ditto for me, Vic.”

He smiled and did his styling walk out the door. Aurora’s words echoed through my mind, and I wondered if dreams really do come true.


Only Love, Part 5

Only Love, Part 5

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by William Shakespeare.


A few months later, Vic told me Molly had moved back to L.A.

“Was it because of the oil thing?” I asked.

“Nah. She rearranged my apartment. I told her she should have asked first.”

“Well, yeah. What did she say?”

He imitated a woman’s high voice. “You don’t like it? But it looks so chic now.”

“Chic, huh?” I smirked. “And what did you say?”

“Put everything back where it was. That pissed her off.” He shrugged. “She said I had no style, phoned a hair salon in California, got her old job back.”

I tried to look sad. “Sorry, Vic. I know it hurts when a relationship goes south.” I wondered if Billy’s refusal to talk meant our relationship was in its death throes, too.

“Nah. I’m cool. First she keeps my green, then she turns my styling pad into girly chic. Enough already.”

I thought Molly was a fool to give him up, wished I felt as secure as Vic to assert myself, and worried because I couldn’t talk to my lover as freely as I could to my friend.

In July, Billy got fired from his lifeguard job. That afternoon, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a chair beside him. “Lizzy,” he said, “I ain’t making it jobwise here on Oahu.”

Instantly, my heart ached. Unable to speak, I simply stared.

“I’ve got to get away from all these ant hill haoles piled up high,” he said.

“You mean away from Waikiki?”

“My Hawaiian soul needs more space.” He frowned. “And time alone to sort things out.”

“You’re leaving me.” I started to cry.

“I might come back.” He wrapped a muscular arm around my shoulder and held me as I sobbed. The ground crumbled beneath my feet and I tumbled into despair.

Ten days later, on a steamy July night, Billy caught a plane to his cousin’s home on Maui. “I’ll write,” he muttered.

“I’ll write back,” I promised.

Then he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

That loud sound hung like a shroud as dust shimmered in the beams of sunlight angling through the jalousie windows. Then it faded away. Then my sobs shattered the silence.

My BFF Robin was the only one I told about Billy leaving me until a month later, when I confided in Vic, “Billy’s living on Maui. Please don’t mention it to the guys.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“I don’t want the playboys in the station thinking I’m up for grabs.”

He frowned. “Like who?”

“Like Pete and Stan, for example. They’ve made it clear, if Billy’s ever dumb enough to leave me…”

“Yeah? Well…okay.” He crossed his heart. “Mum’s the word.”

On a Saturday night three weeks later, I drove to Vic’s apartment. We’d been “talking story” when I’d mentioned I didn’t like to go to movies alone. Vic had offered to go with me, and asked his fireman pal Tony and girlfriend Annie to come along. At first I was thrilled, but excitement turned to disappointment when Vic drove me straight home after the movie. He shook my hand, smiled, and said he’d had a good time.

“Me, too.” I hadn’t really. I’d been way too nervous.

“I’m gonna mosey on over to Pete’s pad now, down some suds, play some poker.” He waved as he drove away.

Back in my apartment, I sobbed and watched my beautiful fantasy wither. Well, I tried to console myself, Vic’s friendship enhances my life more than any man-woman relationship I’ve known. Maybe it’s better this way.

But I didn’t really believe it was.

The following morning, black clouds blanketed the sky. Vic didn’t drop by the alarm room that day, or the next, or the next. Bewildered and anxious, I had a sense of dread that I’d somehow turned him off during the date. Two weeks after the movie, I spotted him at the drinking fountain in the airfield truck stalls and walked over to say hello.

He frowned. “You talk too much.”

I felt like the concrete beneath my feet dissolved into quicksand. My breath caught in my throat. Too stunned to speak, I simply stared.

Vic wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glared at me, and strode away.


Ever had a romance go from good to better to bad to worse? Please leave me a comment.

Only Love, Part 6

Only Love, Part 6

The pain of Vic blaming me for something I didn’t do hit me like a hard punch to my heart. I barely made it to the bathroom before my tears began to spill. I hid there until my sobs subsided. Glad the community room was empty, I hurried through it and back to the alarm room.

The relief fireman, my pal Danny, asked, “How come your eyes all bloodshot?”

“My feelings got hurt,” I swallowed hard, “Vic said I…I talked too much but I didn’t…”

Danny speculated Vic was embarrassed by what the chief had said at roll call the prior week. “Did you hear about that?”

I shook my head. My body shook, too.

“Both shifts were there, A-shift getting off, B-shift coming on, so more than 40 guys,” Danny said. “The chief said, ‘There will be no fraternizing with the alarm room operators.’ He looked straight at Vic, who turned three shades of red and hung his head.”

Oh god. I’d probably lost Vic’s friendship forever. After Danny left, I locked the door, stomped up and down on the stained brown carpet, and yelled, “Chief’s an interfering busy body! Tony’s a big-mouthed gossip.”

The ranting made me feel better. I gave myself a pep talk, “Don’t give up. Don’t crawl into your shell. Find a way to tell Vic what happened.”

The following Saturday, on my morning break, I spied Vic sitting alone at one of the vinyl-topped dining room tables, eating tuna and crackers. Mr. Tennyson, a fifty-something, well-read fire captain, sat at another table, working a New York Times crossword puzzle.

I caught Vic’s eye and pointed at him. “There will be no fraternizing with the alarm room operators.”

Tenny looked up from his newspaper. “What’s fraternizing mean?” he asked.

I shook my head and tried to stop the rest of me from shaking, too. “As if you didn’t know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Something kind of…provocative?”

“It can mean that.” I smiled. “It can also mean associating with someone cordially. Like friends. Like Vic and me.” I hoped my heart wasn’t pounding loudly enough for Vic to hear. Hoped he wouldn’t know I cared so much about him.

Both of them smiled back.

“Leave it to Liz the English Whiz.” Vic waved me over.

I sat beside him, squared my shoulders, and spit out, “It wasn’t me who blabbed. So it must have been Tony.”

Vic looked startled. He rubbed his chin with his right index finger and thumb, and finally said, “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”

“Why didn’t you ask me instead of assuming?” In spite of myself, my eyes misted up.

A sheepish look crossed his face. After a long moment he answered, “Guess I was being a chauvinist pig, figuring, you know, women like to…talk.”

I just looked at him.

Vic thought about it for a moment. “You’re right.” Then, hesitantly, “I should have asked.”

Relief flooded over me, but I didn’t trust myself to speak lest I tear up.

“Liz….” his voice trailed off, “assuming made an ass out of me.”

I bit my lip and blinked hard.

Vic extended his right hand, “I won’t assume again.”

We shook, my small cold hand warmed by his large one.

“I won’t believe anything anybody says about you unless you say it’s true,” he added. “Promise.”

I wondered what people were saying about me. “It’s a deal.” I tried to smile.

He didn’t say another word. The tender look in his eyes was answer enough.


Have you ever persevered in spite of adversity? I’d love to read your comments.

Only Love, Part 7

Only Love, Part 7


Winter turned into spring and my feelings for Vic blossomed like summer roses. I tried to keep them hidden but I couldn’t hide what was happening inside of me. Something was thawing. My ice floes were cracking and melting in the sunlight of my desire. Anxiety picked at me because I didn’t think Vic felt the same way. Still, I ironed my best blouses and washed my hair before heading to work when Vic was on shift.

I had kissed him once, on the cheek, when I visited him in the hospital after a minor surgery. He shook my hand after our double date. He touched me again on the morning before Valentine’s Day.

He performed his slow mosey, high-stepping strut into the alarm room. “Watch this . . . I’m a stylin’ dude.” I laughed. Dimples popped out in his cheeks as he leaned against the edge of the dispatching console.

I swiveled to face him. “Dude, your walk is so cool, I’m shivering.”

He raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes boring into me. “Are you now?”

I locked eyes with him, nodding, desiring him.

He crossed his heavily-muscled arms across his blue fireman’s shirt. “I heard somebody looks mighty pretty today.” He ran his gaze over my frilly white blouse, embroidered blue jeans, and the red tennis shoes I’d bought the day before. “I see it’s true, Miss Red, White, and Blue.”

I smiled my thanks, glad he’d noticed the care I’d taken to look nice. For him, but he didn’t know this. At least, I didn’t think he did.

Vic wasn’t the moody type, and I couldn’t fathom why the dimples in his cheeks disappeared and he frowned. One quick stride took him to my side. He spread his fingers wide, shoved his large hands in my face and emphatically said, “Look at the size of these hands. They’re big enough to protect…” He stopped speaking and stared.

“You’re so strong!” just slipped out of me. My cheeks burned. Cool it! You’ll scare him away.

For a moment, he seemed baffled, as if he had no idea what to do with those outstretched hands. Then he cradled my face with them.

At the touch of those warm fingers, I inhaled sharply, trembling, my heart wildly pounding. Knowing Vic’s propensity for humor, I decided he must be playing and I just didn’t understand the game. At a loss for something witty to say, I told the truth, “Vic, you send chills up my spine.”

Pulling his hands back, he said, “Oh, stop it,” and turned away. Two quick strides took him out the door. I pressed my fingers to my cheeks where he’d touched me and wondered why he wanted to protect somebody.

I have wished ten thousand times since then that I had asked him why he was moody, or that he would have turned to me instead of turning away.

But that’s a “whole ‘nother story,” as they say. The story of my memoir Angel Hero.

Dr. Christopher T. Gregory, Chiropractor Extraordinaire, is Back!

Dr. Christopher T. Gregory, Chiropractor Extraordinaire, is Back!

Recently, I was delighted to discover that Dr. Christopher Gregory, the only chiropractor I have gone to for the past 27 years except for a few adjustments from his brother Charles, is back in practice at his Piikoi office after recovering from a long illness. Now adjusting on Tues, Thurs and Saturday afternoons, Dr. Chris’s adjustments are better than ever. A few weeks ago, he fixed my low back in one adjustment. Only for severe conditions does it take him more than two or three adjustments. I consider him, “The Doc Who Always Gets It Right.”

Not only is he a spot-on adjuster, he has a personable and kind bedside manner. I relax the moment he says, “Lie face down on the table” because I know, when I get up, I’ll be in a lot better shape than when I lay down. He works his magic by putting these funny little half shoes on with which he leg measures, then he makes marks with a soft pencil on my back to indicate the location and direction of the spots he will press to adjust me (please excuse me if I don’t have the correct name for the technical details.) He is definitely not a snap and crack sort of chiropractor. He definitely is a chiropractor who will fix your issue with the minimum number of adjustments rather than one who tries to keep you coming back many times.

Dr. Chris uses the powerful D.N.F.T. technique to good effect (check out this article about him in Midweek at

I am so grateful he’s recovered and can adjust again. Lucky for his patients Dr. Chris is BACK! If his office phone is too busy, he told me I could email his secretary at to schedule an adjustment.

Honoring our Heroes on Memorial Day

Honoring our Heroes on Memorial Day

The National Memorial Day Concert is an American tradition honoring the military service of our men and women in uniform, their families, and those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our country. Did you watch the 90-minute concert live on Sunday, May 28th, 8:00 p.m. ET?

If you missed it, it’s not too late to watch the video at  The show is well worth watching, with songs and stories and film clips that will bring tears to your eyes and touch your heart.

You’ll hear such stellar performers as Russell Watson singing “You Raise Me Up,” Renee Fleming singing “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” Vanessa Williams singing “Let There Be Peace On Earth,” and Christopher Jackson singing “America the Beautiful.” John Ondrasik, better known as Five for Fighting, sings “All For One,” Scotty McCreery sings “The Dash.” Auli’i Cravalho (“Moana”) also sings beautifully.

Hosted by Joe Mantegna and Laurence Fishburne, this year’s impressive lineup also includes General Colin Powell, Gary Sinise, John Ortiz, and the National Symphony Orchestra.

Some takeaways from the speakers:  Soldiers fight for what they believe in. The wounds of war are painful and disabling, and our soldiers and their families have sacrificed so much. To a disabled person, even just a smile or holding the door for them means a great deal. The stories I heard of courage and family support brought tears to my eyes. Seriously wounded folks who prayed every day. One speaker who’d had 70 surgeries from war injuries said, “With faith and my family, I’m pushing hard. We don’t see the disabilities any more, we see the possibilities.” Music and neuro-therapy combined hold great promise for healing.

To all of you who have so proudly served our country, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You lift me up. You are the wind beneath my wings. Because of you, I safely rest. God is nigh.

Because, as one speaker eloquently put it, sharing helps all of us heal, I want to share a song I’ve written to honor a hero. So I am posting the Angel Hero song – lyrics by me, music by talented Honolulu musician John Valentine (uncle of Bruno Mars), demo by Azalea Studios in Nashville. I want to add it to your Memorial Day musical mix because the song reflects the theme of Memorial Day so well – to honor and remember the freedom-loving heroes who “bravely fought the devil in his den.” Who died protecting us. As is stated in John 15:13: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Although the lyrics were originally written to honor a (firefighter) hero who lost his life protecting others, they apply equally to our deep-hearted soldier heroes.

If you’d like to take a listen to Angel Hero, here’s a link to the song at CD Baby:

Or listen to a clip of the song at the Kwill Books website, which plays on the Angel Hero book trailer at:





























Hear ye! Hear ye! A Mystery Anthology Is Born!

Hear ye! Hear ye! A Mystery Anthology Is Born!

DARK PARADISE, Mysteries in the Land of Aloha, a compilation of 17 Hawaiian mystery short stories (one of them my short story Palm It Off On Murder), has been in the planning stages for two years. I’m thrilled to announce that, on Monday, April 3, the Facebook page DARK PARADISE goes live. Editor of the anthology, author Gail Baugniet, has arranged for a “Cover Reveal” on their Facebook page for this exciting new mystery anthology.

The anthology, with a Foreword by best-selling author Toby Neal, will be released in trade book and e-book formats at the second week of April, 2017. Each of the 17 mystery short stories is set in Hawai’i and all offer unique perspectives about living in Paradise (here’s a spoiler from Gail: it’s not all rainbows and Mai Tais!)

Plan to visit us on Facebook, Monday, April 3. Along with the cover reveal, we will share some of the short story plotlines, details about the authors, and tidbits of writing information we’ve picked up along the way.

Each participant blogging today has offered to reveal a tidbit about their short story . . . without giving away the plot. You can visit each site listed below to get a sneak peek at what is lurking behind the fabulous DARK PARADISE cover!


Here’s my tidbit; the question posed by my mystery short story Palm It Off On Murder:

What happens when left-brained chiropractor Barry and his right-brained palmist girlfriend Aurora team up in a whole-hearted effort to catch a killer?

A little background: In 2016, my true-crime/romance memoir Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story, was published by Kwill Books (my book trailer, accompanied by my song Angel Hero, plays at I’m proud to say I kept my promise to the true life hero, Vic, to tell his story or die trying.

Now, in this short story, I am showcasing a different hero, my fiancé Barry. Palm It Off On Murder is my first published mystery short story. In real life, Barry expertly fixes his patients’ backs, often in one adjustment. He truly is “The Doc Who Always Gets It Right”.

Lizbeth, who adopts the palmistry name Aurora in my story, believes love is stronger than death, and hands can reveal truths hidden from the conscious mind. Somehow Lizzy turned out to be somewhat like me. As my mama used to say, the fruit doesn’t fall very far from the tree.


A talented group of local authors have written short stories for Dark Paradise, including Laurie Hanan, Gail M. Baugniet, A.J. Llewellyn, Bob Newell, Alain Gunn, Gay Coburn Gale, Rosemary and Larry Mild, Michael Little, Doris Chu, D.W. Scott, David W. Jones, Shauna Jones, D.V. Whytes, Hannah Cheng, and Carol Catanzariti.

Here’s a list of some of their websites:

Gail M Baugniet
Laurie Hanan
David W. Jones
D.V. Whytes
Toby Neal
D.S. Scott
A.J. Llewellyn

A is for the Astrological Connection of Palmistry and the Planets #AtoZApril2017Challenge

A is for the Astrological Connection of Palmistry and the Planets #AtoZApril2017Challenge

Interested in palmistry? If you are, you’ll notice many astrological terms used therein, such as Mounts of Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury, Line of Mars, etc.  Why, you ask? Because palmistry and astrology have been linked for centuries. Each finger is associated with a planet. For example, the base of the thumb is associated with Venus, the outer edge of the palm with the moon.

(For myself, I became interested in palmistry when I read a man’s hand who had murderer’s thumbs. And he later murdered his friend. But that’s another story. The story, actually, of my book Angel Hero, Murder in Hawai’i, A True Story. But I digress.)

Originally, it was thought that the planets influenced the makeup of the hands. The traditional names of the various parts of a hand are linked to the seven visible planets—the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. However, palmistry can be understood without knowing anything about astrology.

The Public and Private Hand

Take a ruler or a pen and lay it down either hand, from between the two middle fingers down to the wrist. The side of the hand that includes the thumb concerns public life, so it has an “Ascendant” and “Midheaven” vibration to it, like in Astrology. The other side of the hand connects more closely to relationships and home life, having a “Descendant” and “Imum Coeli” (bottom of the sky) feel to it.

The Jupiter, Saturn, Sun, and Mercury Sections

In the diagram above, you can see that the index, two middle fingers, and little finger (and the mounts below them) are designated Jupiter, Saturn, Sun and Mercury, in that order.


Thanks for reading my post! Check back tomorrow for the letter B: A Brief History of Palmistry.


B is for a Brief History of Palmistry, #AtoZAprilChallenge

B is for a Brief History of Palmistry, #AtoZAprilChallenge

The art of palmistry, aka palm reading, hand reading, chirology or chiromancy—also spelled cheiromancy  from Greek kheir (“hand”)—has to do with understanding character and foretelling the future through studying the palm. Palmistry is practiced all over the world, with as many different variations as there are cultures.

There are many different interpretations of various lines and features across palmistry schools. These contradictions and lack of scientific evidence that palmistry’s predictions are accurate have a lot to do with academics’ perception of palmistry as a pseudoscience.

Ancient palmistry

The practice of palmistry is widespread in India, Tibet, China, Persia, Sumeria, ancient Israel and Babylonia.

According to Wikipedia, the acupuncturist Yoshiaki Omura discovered palmistry has its roots in Hindu astrology, the Chinese I Ching, and Gypsy fortune tellers. Thousands of years ago, the Hindu sage Valmiki wrote a book titled The Teachings of Valmiki Maharshi on Male Palmistry.

From India palmistry spread to China, Tibet, Egypt, Persia and Greece. During the Middle Ages, the Catholic Church actively suppressed palmistry, calling it pagan superstition.

Modern palmistry

Cheiro was an influential supporter of palmistry during the late 1800’s.

In 1839, Captain Casimir Stanislas D’Arpentigny’s publication La Chirognomie kicked off a revival of interest in palmistry. In 1889, Katharine St. Hill founded the Chirological Society of Great Britain to advance palmistry and to prevent charlatans from abusing the art. In 1897, Edgar de Valcourt-Vermont (Comte de St Germain) founded the American Chirological Society.

The most influential person in the modern palmistry movement was Irish William John Warner, known by the nickname Cheiro. After studying under gurus in India, he set up a palmistry practice in London and enjoyed a wide following of famous clients from around the world, including famous celebrities like Mark Twain, Sarah Bernhardt, Mata Hari, Oscar Wilde, Grover Cleveland, Thomas Edison, the Prince of Wales, and Joseph Chamberlain. So popular was Cheiro as a “society palmist” that even those who were not believers in the occult had their hands read by him. The skeptical Mark Twain wrote in Cheiro’s visitor’s book that he had “…exposed my character to me with humiliating accuracy.”

(More about Cheiro in tomorrow’s blog post: C is for Cheiro and the Church.)



C is for Cheiro and the Church #A to Z April 2017 Challenge

C is for Cheiro and the Church #A to Z April 2017 Challenge

William John Warner, popularly known as Cheiro (derived from the word cheiromancy, meaning palmistry) lived from November 1, 1866 – October 8, 1936. He was an Irish astrologer and colorful occult figure of the early 20th century. A self-described clairvoyant who taught palmistry, astrology, and Chaldean numerology, he was celebrated for using these forms of divination to make personal predictions for famous clients and to foresee world events.

Born in a village outside Dublin, Ireland, Cheiro acquired his expertise in India. As a teenager, he traveled to the Bombay port of Apollo Bunder. There he met his Guru, an Indian Brahmin, who permitted him to learn from an ancient book that contained many studies on hands. After studying thoroughly for two years, he returned to London and started his career as a palmist.

Widely followed by famous European and American clients during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Cheiro read palms and told the fortunes of numerous famous celebrities. So popular was Cheiro as a “society palmist” that even those who were not believers in the occult had their hands read by him. Of the Prince of Wales, he wrote that “I would not be surprised if he did not give up everything, including his right to be crowned, for the woman he loved.” Cheiro also predicted the Jews would return to Palestine and the country would again be called Israel.

The book Titanic’s Last Secrets includes a detailed account of one of Cheiro’s palm readings with William Pirrie, chairman of Harland and Wolf, builders of the Titanic. Cheiro predicted that he would soon be in a fight for his life, talking about the battle surrounding the Titanic sinking.

Cheiro ran up against the Church during a period when its powers were growing and the early Fathers were jealous of the influence of this old-world science. Palmistry was persecuted by this early Church and convicted of being the offspring of “pagans and heathens” without even being given a trial. Denounced as sorcery and witchcraft, palmistry was said to be firmly under the devil’s grasp.  The result was that the study was outlawed, and fell into the hands of vagrants, tramps, and gypsies. In spite of this persecution, almost the first book ever printed was a work on Palmistry, Die Kunst Ciromantia, in Augsburg in 1475. Palmistry is older than any other system in the world.

In the original Hebrew of the Book of Job (chap. xxxvii., ver. 7), we find these significant words: “God caused signs or seals on the hands of all the sons of men, that the sons of men might know their works.”

As the student of anatomy can build up the entire system from the examination of a single bone, so may a person by a careful study of an important member of the body such as the hand, apart from anything superstitious or even mystical, build up the entire action of the system and trace every effect back to its cause.

Today the science of the present is coming to the rescue of the so-called superstition of the past. Scientists are slowly sweeping aside prejudice and beginning to study occult questions. Perhaps the “whys and wherefores” of such things may one of these days be as easily explained as are those wireless waves of electricity that carry messages from land to land.

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