{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_13237/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_13237","id":"gutenberg_13237","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13237","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Spirit writings"],"text":"STRANGE VISITORS:\n\nA SERIES OF ORIGINAL PAPERS, EMBRACING PHILOSOPHY, SCIENCE, GOVERNMENT,\nRELIGION, POETRY, ART, FICTION, SATIRE, HUMOR, NARRATIVE, AND PROPHECY.\n\nBY THE _SPIRITS OF IRVING, WILLIS, THACKERAY, BRONTE, RICHTER, BYRON,\nHUMBOLDT, HAWTHORNE, WESLEY, BROWNING_, AND OTHERS NOW DWELLING IN THE\nSPIRIT WORLD\n\nDICTATED THROUGH A CLAIRVOYANT, WHILE IN AN ABNORMAL OR TRANCE STATE.\n\n                                  1871\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n     HENRY J. RAYMOND  _To the New York Public_\n      MARGARET FULLER  _Literature in Spirit Life_\n           LORD BYRON  _To His Accusers_\n   NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE _Apparitions_\n    WASHINGTON IRVING  _Visit to Henry Clay_\n   NAPOLEON BONAPARTE  _To The French Nation_\n      W. M. THACKERAY  _His Post Mortem Experience_\n    ARCHBISHOP HUGHES  _Two Natural Religions_\n         EDGAR A. POE  _The Lost Soul_\n    JEAN PAUL RICHTER  _Invisible Influences_\n     CHARLOTTE BRONTE  _Agnes Reef. A Tale_\n ELIZABETH B. BROWNING _To Her Husband_\n         ARTEMUS WARD  _In and Out of Purgatory_\n     LADY BLESSINGTON  _Distinguished Women_\n   PROFESSOR OLMSTEAD  _Locality of the Spirit World_\n   ADAH ISAACS MENKEN  _Hold Me Not_\n          N.P. WILLIS  _Off-Hand Sketches_\n      MARGARET FULLER  _City of Spring Garden_\n       GILBERT STUART  _Art Conversation_\n       EDWARD EVERETT  _Government_\n     FREDERIKA BREMER  _Flight to my Starry Home_\n   REV. LYMAN BEECHER  _The Sabbath--Its Uses_\n    PROF. GEORGE BUSH  _Life and Marriage in Spirit Life_\n  JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH  _Acting by Spirit Influence_\n     REV. JOHN WESLEY  _Church of Christ_\n         N. P. WILLIS  _A Spirit Revisiting Earth_\n     ALLAN CUNNINGHAM  _Alone_\n   BARON VON HUMBOLDT  _The Earthquake_\n   SIR DAVID BREWSTER  _Naturalness of Spirit Life_\n          H.T. BUCKLE  _Mormons_\n          W.E. BURTON  _Drama in Spirit Life_\n     CHAS. L. ELLIOTT  _Painting in Spirit Life_\n    COMEDIAN\u2019S POETRY  _Rollicking Song_\n  LADY HESTER STANHOPE _Prophecy_\n   PROFESSOR MITCHELL  _The Planets_\n  DR. JOHN W. FRANCIS  _Causes of Disease and Insanity_\n     ADELAIDE PROCTER  _The Spirit Bride_\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n_BY THE EDITOR_.\n\n\nIn placing before the public a work with such novel and extraordinary\ndemands upon its consideration, a few explanatory words seem\nappropriate.\n\nIts title and contents will doubtless at first sight cause a smile of\nincredulity, and will be regarded by many as one of the devices which\nare sometimes put forward to entrap an unsuspecting public into the\nperusal of a sensational hoax.\n\nFor a number of years past the community has been surprised with\naccounts of most incredible marvels; and from time to time the press\nhas reported various phenomena in connection with an _unrecognized\nforce and intelligence,_ as occurring in almost every locality\nthroughout the habitable globe.\n\nThese phenomena are thought by many to be mere illusions, and by some\nattributed to peculiar electrical conditions; while others seek their\nsolution in an abnormal state of the brain; and others still believe\nthem dependent on an actual intercourse between mortals and those who\nhave passed beyond the grave.\n\nHaving become interested in this mysterious and exciting subject, and\nfinding the means at hand for testing the various phenomena, I resolved\nto undertake a series of experiments, with the hope of exposing a\ndelusion, if such it were, or perchance, of clearing up a mystery\nwhich, by the magnitude and importance it has already assumed, is\ndisturbing the foundations of old beliefs and steadily diffusing it\u2019s\ntheories and doctrines into the very heart of society.\n\nAmong other expedients to attain this end (assuming the hypothesis\nthat spirits of the departed were in a condition to communicate with\nmortals), I interrogated, through the instrumentality of a clairvoyant\ngifted with the remarkable power of passing at will into an unconscious\nor trance state, the spirits of a number of well-known individuals\nconcerning their views and sentiments in their present state of\nexistence.\n\nIn response to my questions, an intelligent answer was received from\nthe Countess Ossoli (Margaret Fuller), with the assurance that my\ndesire was apprehended and would receive the hearty co-operation of\nthose to whom it was addressed.\n\nThe process by which the papers were given was that of dictation\nthrough the clairvoyant while in an abnormal or trance condition and\nwith her eyes closed. The matter was written in pencil as it fell from\nher lips, and subsequently transcribed for the press.\n\nThe difficulties attending the transmission of ideas through the medium\nof another mind, even under ordinary circumstances, must be apparent\nto all, and the unprejudiced reader may readily perceive obstacles to\nthe literal reproduction of their respective styles and language by the\nvarious contributors.\n\nYet, notwithstanding the impediments to felicity of expression, I feel\nassured that persons at all familiar with the characteristics of the\noriginals will readily perceive a marked resemblance in style to that\nof the authors named.\n\nIn the delivery of the articles, their composers would usually assume\nor personate their own individual characteristics; thus, Artemus Ward\u2019s\nconversation and gestures were exceedingly ludicrous. He was the very\npersonification of mirth, occasionally going to the wall and humorously\n\u201cchalking out\u201d his designs. Archbishop Hughes expressed himself in\na quiet, earnest, and eloquent manner. Lady Blessington was full of\nvivacity, and Margaret Fuller was our Presiding Angel; while Booth\nwould become vehement to an intense degree, and at times would mount\nsome article of furniture in the room, becoming passionately eloquent,\nas if again upon the \u201cmimic stage of life.\u201d\n\nAn intelligent public will perceive the mental effort incident upon\nthe production of a series of articles so unusually varied; embracing\nthe distinctive qualities of Philosophy, Science, Religion, Political\nEconomy, Government, Satire, Humor, Poetry, Fiction, Narrative, Art,\nAstronomy, etc., etc.; and the query has fitly been advanced,--what\nmind, in the exercise of its normal functions,--has furnished a\nconsecutive number of essays so surprising in novelty, so diverse\nin sentiment, so consistent in treatment, and so forcibly original,\nas those embraced in this volume? What intellect so versatile as to\nreproduce in song and narrative the characteristic styles of so many,\nand yet so dissimilar authors?\n\nIn designating the locality of the Second Life, frequent repetition of\ncertain terms, such as spirit world, etc., were unavoidable. For weeks\nand months the unseen visitors were punctual to their appointments,\nand this novel mode of book-making proceeded steadily in interest and\nvariety until the volume was completed.\n\nThe work is now inscribed to a discriminating public, with a lively\nconfidence that the advanced intelligence and freedom of the age will\nyield it an ingenuous reception.\n\nHENRY J. HORN.\n\nNEW YORK, _October 1st_, 1869.\n\n\n\n\nSTRANGE VISITORS.\n\n\n\n\nHENRY J. RAYMOND.\n\n_TO THE NEW YORK PUBLIC_.\n\n\nI have often thought that if it should ever be my privilege to become\na ghost I would enlighten the poor, benighted denizens of the earth as\nto how _I did it_, and give a more definite account of what I should\nsee, and the transformation that would befall me, than either Benjamin\nFranklin or George Washington had been able to do in the jargon that\nhad been set before me by Spiritualists as coming from those worthies.\n\n\u201cStuff!\u201d I have exclaimed again and again, after looking over spirit\ncommunications and wondering why a man should become so stilted because\nhe had lost his avoirdupoise.\n\nThe opportunity which I boasted I would not let slip has arrived. The\npublic must judge of how I avail myself of this ghostly power.\n\nNow and then I was troubled with strange misgivings about the future\nlife. I had a hope that man might live hereafter, but death was a\nsolemn fact to me, into whose mystery I did not wish too closely to pry.\n\n\u201cPresentiments,\u201d as the great English novelist remarks, \u201care strange\nthings.\u201d That connection with some coming event which one feels like a\nshadowy hand softly touching him, is inexplicable to most men.\n\nI remember to have felt several times in my life undefined\nforeshadowings of some future which was to befall me; and just previous\nto my departure from earth, as has been generally stated in the\njournals of the day, I experienced a similar sensation. An awful blank\nseemed before me--a great chasm into which I would soon be hurled. This\nundefined terror took no positive shape.\n\nAfter the death of my son I felt like one who stood upon a round ball\nwhich rolled from under him and left him nowhere.\n\nThe sudden death of James Harper added another shock to that which\nI had already felt. I did not understand then, though I have since\ncomprehended it, that I was like some great tree, rooted in the ground,\nwhich could not be dragged from the earth in which it was buried until\nit had received some sudden blow to loosen its hold and make its grip\nless tenacious.\n\nBut in the very midst of these feelings I sought the society of\nfriends, and endeavored around the social board to exhilarate my senses\nand drown these undesirable fancies.\n\nLife seemed more secure among friends, but death was not to be dodged.\nIt caught me unarmed and alone at midnight in the very doorway of my\nhouse.\n\nI had crossed the threshold, and remember trying to find the stairs\nand being seized with a dizziness. The place seemed to spin around and\nI felt that I was falling. Next, a great weight seemed to press me\ndown like some horrid nightmare. I endeavored to groan, to cry out and\nstruggle from under it, but it held me fast. After this I seemed to be\nfalling backward through a blackness--an inky blackness. It came close\nto me, and pressed close upon my lips and my eyes. It smothered me; I\ncould not breathe.\n\nThen ensued a struggle within me such as Lazarus might have felt when\nhe endeavored to break through his grave cerements. It was frightful,\nthat effort for mastery!\n\nI understand it now. It was the soul fighting its way into birth as a\nspiritual being, like a child fighting its way out of its mother\u2019s womb.\n\nI remember feeling faint and confused after that, like one who has long\nbeen deprived of food. An unconsciousness stole over me for a moment,\nfrom which I was awakened by a sudden burst of light. I seemed to open\nmy eyes upon some glorious morning. I felt an arm around me; I turned\nand met the smiling face of my son. I thought myself in a dream, and\nyet I was filled with awe.\n\nI had a consciousness that some strange transformation had taken place.\nMy son\u2019s voice murmured in my ear, \u201cFather, go with me now.\u201d As he\nspoke, his voice sounded like the vibration of distant bells. When he\ntouched me a fire seemed to thrill through my veins. I felt like a boy;\na wild, prankish sensation of freedom possessed me. My body lay upon\nthe ground. I laughed at it; I could have taken it and tossed it in the\nair.\n\n\u201cCome, let\u2019s go,\u201d said I; \u201cdon\u2019t stay here.\u201d\n\nMy chief desire was to get out of the house. Like a boy who must fly\nhis kite, out I would go. I feared I might be caught and taken back if\nI did not hasten, and moved toward the door. The seams of that door,\nwhich I had always thought well joined, seemed now to stand twelve\ninches or more apart. Every atom of that wood which had appeared so\nsolid to me was now more porous than any sponge or honey-comb. Out\nwe went through the crevice. A party of men were standing upon the\ndoorsteps. One put forth his hand to grasp mine. I laughed aloud when I\nrecognized the person as James Harper! Another was Richmond; another,\none of my associates in the editorial corps. I was perfectly amazed,\nand set up a hilarious shout, which they echoed in great glee. We\nstarted forth, a convivial party. The atmosphere hung in heavy masses\naround the houses, like the morning mists about the base of a mountain.\n\nWe did not walk on the ground; the air was solid enough to bear us. I\nfelt that we were rising above the city. My senses seemed magnified.\nThe comprehension of all I did was very acute. We kept along the\nearth\u2019s atmosphere for quite a distance.\n\n\u201cLet us sail out,\u201d said I, at last.\n\n\u201cWe cannot yet; we must wait till we reach the current. If we go\noutside of that, we may be lost in the intense cold and the poisonous\ngases, or we may be swallowed up in the vortex of some flaming comet,\u201d\nanswered my wise companions.\n\nThe statement looked very reasonable, so I allowed myself to be\nguided and we soon found ourselves in a great belt of light of a pale\nrose-color, in which we sailed seemingly without any effort, moving\nthe hands and arms at times and at other times folding them across our\nbreasts.\n\nAs we advanced the channel in which we moved increased in depth and\nbrilliancy of color, and I grew more and more exhilarated. Finally we\npaused and commenced to descend. The air was very luminous, radiating\nand scintillating like the flashing of diamonds, and so electric that\nthe concussion of sound vibrated like the peal from some distant organ.\n\nLooking down through the glittering atmosphere that surrounded me, I\nperceived what appeared to be the uplifting peak of a mountain. A halo\nof light rested upon its summit, and we seemed drawn toward it with a\ngentle force.\n\nThis mountain, I was informed, was one of a magnetic chain which belts\nthe spirit world. In color and material it was like an opal.\n\nI was told that a peculiar sympathy existed between it and the human\nspirit. When individuals on earth are in juxtaposition with this\nmountain they feel a strange yearning for the spirit home.\n\nNow then the mysterious riddle is solved, thought I; and this must be\nthe spiritual north pole!\n\nWe soon stood upon _terra-firma_, if these translucent rocks could\nbe called _terra-firma_ which rose in glittering and polished peaks\nall around us. They were wonderfully iridescent, so that no bed of\ngorgeously-colored flowers could have filled the eye with a greater\nvariety of tints.\n\nA few steps around a projecting bluff brought us within sight of what\nappeared to me a magnificent palace of alabaster. This palace I soon\nlearned was a hotel, or place of resort for travellers.\n\nIn ascending its polished steps I was met by some half dozen persons\nwhom I had known. You may be sure a wonderful handshaking ensued. We\nremained here but a few moments, partook of refreshments, and then\nproceeded to the court-yard, where I was told a car awaited to carry us\nto our destination.\n\nThe car seemed to be a frame-work, apparently of silver wire. We now\ncomfortably seated ourselves, when two large wings struck out from it\nlike those of some great condor. We moved rapidly over the acclivity.\nThis is a new way of crossing the mountains, thought I; I will have to\nintroduce it in the Sierra Nevada and Colorados.\n\nI inquired how the machine was propelled, and was informed, \u201cSimply by\na chemical arrangement similar to your galvanic battery.\u201d\n\nYou may conceive my astonishment when we descended into a park of a\nvast city.\n\n\u201cMy God!\u201d exclaimed I, \u201cit cannot be that I am in the spirit world!\nWhy, look at the houses and churches, and temples! What magnificent\nbuildings!\u201d But I must say the material alone struck me as something\nsublime and unearthly. So transparent and rich in color, reflecting\nlight as if through a veil or mist! \u201cThis caps all,\u201d said I, as doctors\nand lawyers, artists and authors, whom I had known, stepped up to greet\nme, smiling and full of life. \u201cWhy, how is this?\u201d \u201cIs this you?\u201d \u201cWhere\ndid you come from?\u201d Questions like these came from all sides. Francis\nand Brady, Willis, Morris, and a host of New Yorkers who had slipped\nout of sight and almost out of mind, now gathered around me as if by\nmiracle. I rubbed my eyes in wonder. Spying Brown, I cried out, \u201cWhy,\nhow is this, Brown? It can\u2019t be that I am in heaven! Do you have such\nthings here? Houses, stores, and works of art on every side?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; people must live,\u201d said he, \u201cwherever they be.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd are men here the same, with all their faculties?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cYes; why not? Have you any you\u2019d like to lose?\u201d\n\nI shook my head and walked on absorbed in thought. And are all our\nparaphernalia for funerals, our solemn black, and our long prayers but\nuseless ceremonies? Why, according to this, the beliefs of the Chinese,\nHottentot, African, and Indian are nearer the truth than our civilized\ncreeds!\n\nI find that there are few things in which society in this world so much\ndiffers from that of earth as in its social and political arrangements.\n\nAll the great system of living for appearances, and the habit of\nself-deception whereby men live outwardly what their secret lives\ndisavow, are here entirely done away with.\n\nIn the first place the marriage relations differ materially from those\nof earth, and no false sentiment nor custom, nor religious belief,\nholds together as companions those who are dissimilar in their nature.\nNeither do men crucify their tastes and feelings from a mistaken idea\nof duty.\n\nThe miseries and disasters which are attendant on a life on earth they\nview as a parent would view the whooping-cough or scarlatina which\nafflict the body of his child--as necessary steps toward his growth and\nprogress from youth to manhood.\n\nA remarkable instance of this came under my own observation. You\nremember that the singular and sudden death of Abraham Lincoln was a\nmatter of surprise to us. We could not see the purpose of an all-wise\nProvidence in this sudden closing of an eventful career. It was\ndiscussed in every newspaper in the land, and the conclusion was that\nthe Creator had some special purpose in his removal, and this we all\nbelieved.\n\nBut here the enigma is solved.\n\nStanding face to face and walking side by side, as I have done for the\nlast few days with this man, raised as some suppose for the special\npurpose of freeing the slave--a martyr for principle--I find that he\nenjoys as a good joke, this martyrdom, and I have also ascertained the\nsolemn fact that he was removed, not by God, but by spirit politicians,\nGod\u2019s agents.\n\nAnd the state of the case is this: the Southern rebels, hot-blooded\nand revengeful, who were arriving daily by scores and hundreds, in\nthe spirit world, finding their cause discomfited and worsted, became\nmutinous. They were too raw and new to fall into the harmony of the\nspirit life, and they threatened a second war in Heaven; a war which\nthose young Lucifers would have waged with terrific power.\n\nTo quell this disturbance and produce a counteraction, it was necessary\nthat one whom they looked upon as the great leader of the Northern\ncohorts should be withdrawn from the post which he occupied.\n\nA man of calm, dispassionate judgment, not vindictive, who could hold\nthe reins with a firm hand, yet look with a lenient eye on the follies\nwhich he did not share, was needed in the spirit world, and that man\nwas Abraham Lincoln.\n\nWhen those young Southern bloods had conspired with their co-patriot to\nhis downfall, had instigated and accomplished his assassination, and\nwhen he appeared in their midst, the simple, unaffected, _uncrafty_ man\nthat he was, a revulsion of feeling immediately took place.\n\nThe liberal party in the spirit world, friends to humanity and\nprogress, could have prevented his removal had they wished; but not\ndesiring to do so, they prepared his mind by dreams and visions for\nwhat was about to take place.\n\nFor a short time in the spirit world he held the position of\nPacificator and chief ruler over that portion of the American, spirit\nworld represented by the North and South.\n\nBut after averting this peril, which would have involved the States in\nanarchy and war such as they had not yet experienced, he retired to\nprivate life.\n\nAnother instance, proving that the inhabitants of the spirit world,\nlike their great prototype, the Creator, do not look at immediate\ndistress, but at the advantages that may accrue therefrom, presents\nitself in my removal from the sphere in which I had probably worked out\nall that would be useful to humanity.\n\nLike a _charg\u00e9 d\u2019affaires_ called back to Washington because he can\nfill a better post, so I, through the solicitations of relatives and\nfellow-citizens who have preceded me to this new world, was called here\nfor the purpose of editing a journal and assisting in ameliorating the\ncondition of the inhabitants of the Southern States, and also to use my\ninfluence in the Congress and Senate at Washington toward producing a\nbetter comprehension of their needs.\n\nI have one thing to say to my brother journalist, Horace Greeley, and\nthat is that the Utopian ideas which have for so many years formed the\nprincipal topic of his radical sheet are here put in operation.\n\nEach one seems desirous of cooperating with his neighbor, and people\nof like tastes and feelings associate together and live in vast\ncommunities or cities. They do not settle down to one routine, as they\ndo with you. The cost of travelling depending chiefly on the will\nand energy of the individual, the inhabitants are ever in motion,\never ready for a change, if wisdom or pleasure should dictate it.\nThe condition of the common people is vastly improved, and America\nhas been the chief agent in placing the lower classes in a condition\nwhich adapts them to a higher spiritualized life. I say lower classes,\nbecause under the system of monarchical governments, the peasants and\nlaborers of Europe have been kept in a state of besotted ignorance,\ndeveloping chiefly in the animal propensities, and not fitting\nthemselves for the higher enjoyments of the spirit life.\n\nFinding that the spirit world was likely to be overrun by this class of\nignorant and superstitions people, its wise rulers have instigated the\nlegislators of the United States to provide means for the education and\ndevelopment of these lower classes of society.\n\nIt is only by assimilating with those of a higher intellectual\ndevelopment that the ignorant become enlightened, and America, in\nthrowing down all barriers to political and social advancement, has\nbeen the chief instrument of lifting the great mass of humanity to\na position of power in the spirit world; still there are crowds of\nbeings, ignorant and superstitious, who enter the spirit world, and\ntheir intellects can only be unfolded by the labor and guidance of some\nmaster mind.\n\nI was surprised to find that physical labor here, as on earth, was\none of the chief means employed to assist in mental growth; and I\nfound swarms of English, Irish, and German people happily at work,\ncultivating the land and erecting houses for themselves and others, and\nassisting in the great machinery of life, which here, as in the other\nworld, revolves its constant round.\n\nI had nearly forgotten to mention that since leaving your world I\nreturned on one occasion to attend a _s\u00e9ance_, as it is termed, for\nphysical manifestations, and had the pleasure of seeing how our\nchemists combine from the elements the semblance of the human form. I\nhad been interested when on earth in an experiment recently made by\nscientific men, whereby, through a peculiar combination of metals,\na flame is caused to assume the shapes of flowers, leaves, fishes,\nand reptiles, apparently developed from the air, and I discovered an\nintelligent solution of the remarkable experiment in the manifestations\nI witnessed at this _s\u00e9ance_.\n\nIt appears that every particle in nature throws off a gaseous\nemanation, partaking of its particular shape. These gaseous particles\nare not discernible with the material eye, excepting when by chance\nthey coalesce, and then a phosphorescent light ensues, which renders\nthem apparent.\n\nA similar effect to this is seen in electricity, which lies latent and\nviewless till by a sudden coalescing of its parts it manifests itself\nin zigzag lines and flashes of light which illuminate the heavens.\n\nNow certain material bodies have the power of drawing those atoms in\nclose affinity, and when they are thus drawn, the shapes alluded to are\nclearly discernible by the human eye.\n\nI discovered another fact, and that is that every human being emits a\nlight, and in the case of those called \u201cmediums,\u201d it is intense like\nthe Drummond light, and a spirit standing in its rays will become\nvisible to mortal sight.\n\nThese experiments interested me highly, as they had been heretofore\ninexplicable to my mind.\n\n_Apropos_ of the topics of to-day, I must here relate what I have heard\nof the \u201cLord Byron scandal,\u201d which is creating so marked a sensation\nat present. I am told by Byron and others that Lady Byron, recently\narriving in the spirit world and finding matters very different from\nwhat she had expected, and that she was received nowhere as the wife of\nLord Byron (who having resided there some thirty years had formed a new\nand happy alliance), was stung with jealousy and vexation and hastened\nto inspire Mrs. Stowe to repeat the story which had become a matter of\nfaith with her, hoping thereby to inflict a punishment on Byron, who\nignored his relation to her.\n\nIf she had waited until she had resided a little longer in spirit life\nshe would not have pursued so foolish a course. But I must bring this\nlong letter to a close, assuring my friends that I have the prospect of\nas active a life before me as the one I have just closed on earth.\n\n\n\n\nMARGARET FULLER.\n\n_LITERATURE IN SPIRIT LIFE_.\n\n\nTo a mind familiar with the literature of the ancient Greeks and\nRomans, which has studied the Scandinavian Edda, and is intimate with\nthe more modern German, French, and English authors, the literature of\nthe spirit world opens up a mine of interminable wealth.\n\nThe libraries in this world are vast catacombs or repositories of\nburied knowledge. Here are found histories of decayed races, dynasties,\nand nations which have vanished from earth, leaving scarce a monument\nof their progress in art, science, and mental culture. In these\nlibraries the student of history will find the exploits of ancient\npeoples recorded, and a description of their cities, with the temples\nand towers which they built and the colossal images which they created.\n\nI own to the surprise which I experienced when I discovered that\nprinted books were a part of the treasures of the spirit world. But\nthe scholar will rejoice as I did to find the literary productions of\nremotest ages garnered in the spacious halls of science that adorn our\ncities.\n\nIt is a principle of being--a condition of immortality--as inseparable\nfrom spirit existence as from earth life, that thought should express\nitself in external forms. Even the Great Spirit, the Creator of all,\ngives shape to his thoughts in the formation of trees, flowers, men,\nbeasts, and myriad worlds with their constant motion, their sound and\nsong.\n\nIt has been aptly said that the \u201cstars are the poetry of God.\u201d He, the\nGreat Spirit of all, writes his thoughts legibly; and so man, like his\noriginator, whether living in the natural body or existing as a spirit,\ngives outward shape to his ideas; hence books become a necessity of\nspirit existence, and the writers from earth have still a desire to\nperpetuate their thoughts.\n\nOral communication is too evanescent, and therefore the dear old books\nstill find a place in the spheres.\n\nThere are various modes of making these volumes, and the writer may\nbecome his own printer.\n\nSome authors prefer to dictate, and a little instrument marks off the\nvariations of sound which make the word, and thus, as he speaks, the\nword is impressed on the sheet.\n\nOthers, if the thought be clear and distinct enough, and the will\nsufficiently under abeyance, act through the mind upon a conductor,\nwhich dots down the thought in a manner somewhat similar to telegraphic\nprinting.\n\nThe material used to receive the impression is of a soft, vellum-like\nnature, which can be folded up in any manner without destroying its\nform; it is very light and thin, but opaque, like the creamy petals of\na lily.\n\nThe phonetic alphabet is used extensively, though we have many books\nprinted in the mode usually adopted on earth.\n\nAll nature is constantly changing and progressing. The bards who sang\nupon the earth centuries ago--Homer, Virgil, the Greek and Roman, the\nCeltic and Saxon writers of old--have passed beyond the spirit sphere\nwhich I inhabit to a spirit planet still more refined, and have left\nbehind only the records of their strange experience.\n\nThe eighteenth century cannot walk side by side with the third or\nfourth century more readily in the spirit world than on earth.\n\nThe character of the spirit literature of the present day is\nessentially scientific and explorative. We have in our world, as you\nhave in yours, intrepid travellers--learned men, who make voyages to\nalmost inaccessible planets--and they return even as those of earth,\nwith sketches and graphic outlines of the strange sights they have\nwitnessed; and those less venturesome who remain at home are as anxious\nas your citizens might be to hear accounts of wonderful regions that\nhave been visited. And such books of travel are sought eagerly.\n\nWe have but few works on theology; the nature and essence of God is\ndiscussed with us, but not so elaborately as with you.\n\nSpirits who have passed into a second life have so nearly approached\nthe mystery of a Divine Being that they do not desire to debate the\nsubject.\n\nA large proportion of our writers are devoted to what you would here\nterm transcendental thought, a kind of literature which lies between\npoetry and music, which awakens a feeling of ecstasy, and gives, as it\nwere, wings to the soul.\n\nThe poets who sang upon earth during the last century, of whom Shelly,\nKeats, and Byron are an English type, and Halleck, Pierrepont, Dana,\nand Willis the American representatives, are among the most inspired\nand far-reaching of our present writers of poetry and song.\n\nOur literature has one great advantage over that of earth, in that our\nseparate nationalities become merged in one grand unit. We do not need\ntranslators, as we have adopted a universal written language. There\nare some writers who still retain, as I have said, the modes adopted\non earth, but those who have been resident any length of time in the\nspirit sphere employ the plan of writing by signs, which are understood\nand acknowledged by every nationality.\n\nI should like, in closing, to introduce an extract from an old volume\nwhich I found in a library in the city of Spring Garden.\n\nIt was written by Addison during his sojourn in that city, in the\nyear 1720, and is in the form of a letter, supposed to be written to\na friend on earth. In it he essays to portray the expansion of mind\nhe has experienced in his new home through the magnetic influence of\nthought language:\n\n\u201cBehold the far off luminary suspended millions and billions and\ntrillions of miles in space; then turn the eye yonder and see that\ninfinitesimal point of vegetation, earth--a speck, countless multitudes\nof which heaped and piled together would form but a point compared with\nthat majestic sun!\n\n\u201cYet behold it move and expand beneath the long fibrous rays which that\neffulgent orb sends down through so many billions of miles to the place\nof its minute existence. Even as that poor little existence shoots out\nits fibres to meet those rays which have travelled such great lengths,\nso a spirit in the spheres feels the quickening, effulgent rays thrown\nout by the brain of some prophet or poet existing millions and billions\nand trillions of miles away on some distant spirit planet, and his\nthought expands and enlarges beneath the warming action of that far-off\nbrain, until it assumes a shape and form which its own emulation never\nprophesied.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBYRON.\n\n_TO HIS ACCUSERS_.\n\n\nI.\n\n  My soul is sick of calumny and lies:\n  Men gloat on evil--even woman\u2019s hand\n  Will dabble in the mire, nor heed the cries\n  Of the poor victim whom she seeks to brand\n  In thy sweet name, Religion, through the land!\n  Like the keen tempest she doth strip her prey,\n  Tossing him bare and wrecked upon the strand,\n  While vaunting her misdeeds before the day,\nBearing a monument which crumbles like the clay.\n\nII.\n\n  My sister, have I lived to see thy name\n  Dishonored? Thou, who wast my pride, my stay;\n  Shall Jealousy and Fraud thy love defame\n  And I be dumb? Just Heaven, let a ray\n  From thy majestic light illume earth\u2019s clay,[A]\n  That through her I may scorch the slander vile,\n  And light throughout the land a torch to-day,\n  Which shall reveal how false and full of guile\nAre they who seek thy name, Augusta, to defile.\n\n[Footnote A: The Clairvoyant.]\n\nIII.\n\n  She who has borne my title and my name,\n  In deeds fraternal saw some monster crime;\n  To her base level sought my heart to tame,\n  Made mock of each aspiring thought sublime,\n  And sought to bury me beneath the slime\n  Of her imaginings. All--all are gone\n  Who could defend me. From the grave of time\n  I am unearth\u2019d--by sland\u2019rous miscreants torn,\nAnd rise to feel again the ills I once have borne.\n\nIV.\n\n  Is this a Christian deed, to flaunt a vice,\n  And with another\u2019s failings gild your own?\n  To hearken to the whisperings and device\n  Of old age, selfish, to suspicion grown?\n  To misconstrue each friendly look--each tone--\n  And out of natural love create vile lust?\n  Must brother\u2019s heart his very kin disown,\n  While rudest hand disturbs her mouldering dust?\nIs this a Christian deed? Shall mankind call it just?\n\nV.\n\n  But let that pass. I hear a nation\u2019s voice\n  Raised to defend the absent, wronged child;\n  My hopes and aims were high, albeit my choice\n  Was fixed on one who felt not for my wild\n  And wayward nature; one who never smiled\n  On imperfection. From my home of light\n  Unscathed, I see life\u2019s blackening billows piled,\n  Ready to sweep the daring soul from sight,\nSinking his name and memory in darkest night.\n\nVI.\n\n  I rise again above the woes of earth,\n  Like unchained bird, seeking my native air.\n  Men seldom see their fellow-creatures\u2019 worth,\n  But blot sweet nature\u2019s page, however fair.\n  Away, my soul, and seek thy nobler state,\n  Where loving angels breathe their softest prayer,\n  Where sweetest seraphs for thy coming wait,\nAnd ne\u2019er suspicion\u2019s breath can pass the Golden Gate.\n\n\n\n\nNATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.\n\n_APPARITIONS_.\n\n\nReturning one evening from a visit to a friend on earth, I was impelled\nto take a route with which I was unfamiliar. It led me far beyond\nthe habitations of the city, into an open country whose surface was\ndiversified by sloping hills and broad valleys.\n\nThe sun was quite low in the horizon, and dark purple clouds, gathering\nin the west, indicated an approaching storm. Anxious to reach my\nspirit-home before such an event, I was nevertheless compelled to keep\nwithin the earth\u2019s atmosphere.\n\nThe aspect of the country became more uneven as I advanced, and the\ndisappearing sun threw out the hills in cold blue relief against the\nevening sky. One peak to the northward stood high and isolated from\nthe surrounding hills, and was crowned by a spacious dwelling house;\nthe high peaked roof and dark gloomy color of its exterior comported\nstrangely with the landscape.\n\nTo this building an unseen influence drew me. As I approached nearer\nI discovered the figure of a man walking with restless step upon\nthe piazza which surrounded the dwelling. At times he would suspend\nhis walk, and crouch, shuddering as with fear, against the shadowed\nbalustrade. His face was of ashy paleness, and his hair, black as\nnight, fell in neglected masses around his head. His eyes were bright\nand glassy, and their expression frightful to look upon.\n\nUnconscious of my proximity, he arose from his crouching position,\nstood for a moment irresolute, and then walked up to the heavy oaken,\ndoor and knocked.\n\nPresently the door was opened by a lady; she looked out, but could see\nno one. \u201cIt must have been the wind,\u201d said she, shuddering slightly,\nand drawing her shawl closely around her, was about to close the door.\nBut before she could accomplish her purpose the unseen guest had\nentered, with myself following closely behind, hoping to give comfort\nwhere it appeared most sorely needed.\n\nUp a broad staircase he ascended and at a chamber door he paused--then\nentered. I followed. His presence seemed to cause the very furniture to\nshake and rattle.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d thought I, \u201cI will solve the enigma. Here, without doubt, has\noccurred some grand disturbance of nature. The walls of this apartment,\nits casements, its decorations, have been witness to some fell crime.\nThe spectre of evil impresses itself upon matter.\u201d\n\nWhile reflecting upon this wonderful law, which all my life I had\nperceived dimly, I observed with care the evidently unhappy man. A\nbedstead of rich workmanship occupied one side of the apartment.\nRushing toward it he burst forth in a cry of frenzy, swaying his hands\nfearfully and ejaculating and groaning in most piteous accents.\n\nAt this juncture steps were heard outside ascending the stairs, and\nseveral members of the household entered, bearing lights. They looked\nabout the room, at first timidly; then, gathering courage, peered under\nthe bed, opened closets, and scrutinized every nook and corner of the\napartment. Foiled in their efforts to discover the inmate they turned\nto each other with amazement.\n\n\u201cI am positive the sounds came from this room,\u201d said one. \u201cThere is no\none to be seen here,\u201d replied another; \u201cwhat can it mean?\u201d\n\nThe culprit stood in the corner, gesticulating violently, but they with\ntheir mortal eyes could not see him. They passed close to him, but\ntheir lighted candles could not reveal the shadowless!\n\nHaving satisfied themselves that the room was tenantless, they\ndeparted. Then I approached the unhappy wretch:\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said I, \u201clet me aid you. Unburden your woo to me; I too have\nsuffered and am not without sin.\u201d\n\nCasting his eyes upon me now for the first time, the man scowled with\ndogged sullenness, and said:\n\n\u201cI want no help.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said I, \u201cyour looks belie your words; come, go with me to my\nquiet cottage; there you shall refresh yourself; you shall sleep\nto-night in peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeace!\u201d he repeated scornfully. \u201cI know no peace; nor can I leave this\nspot till every eye beholds the horrid deed that I committed here.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriend,\u201d said I, \u201ctell me the nature of your crime; reveal to me your\nsecret and your heart will be lighter for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! ha!\u201d he answered, his voice dying away in a low wail. \u201cLook upon\nthat wall opposite the bed; it will speak better than I can.\u201d I looked,\nand beheld a faint photograph or impression of the couch, with its\nhandsome drapery. Upon it reclined the figure of a female, and bending\nover her appeared the form of a man, whose livid face and black,\ndisordered hair I recognized as an unmistakable reflection of the\nunfortunate man before me.\n\n\u201cYou see that \u2018the very stones cry out against me,\u2019\u201d said he. \u201cEvery\nnight for two years have I enacted that same scene, and I am held by\nsome unseen, influence to this baneful spot.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me your story,\u201d said I; \u201chide nothing--I am your friend.\u201d\n\nHe ran his thin fingers through his tangled hair, and with a voice\nhusky with emotion answered:\n\n\u201cI will tell you. Some years ago, when a young man, haughty and\npassionate, I had the misfortune to love a girl whose youth and beauty\nproved my bane, and in a moment of recklessness I married her. In her\nnature were mingled the qualities of the serpent and the dove. She was\nmy inferior, and I could not own her outwardly nor inwardly as my wife;\nbut, unhappily for the peace of both, I could not rid myself of her. I\ngave her money, but it availed not; she was ignorant, and persisted in\nfollowing me.\u201d Here the man looked around with a nervous air, as if he\nexpected to see the unwelcome face peering at him through the shadows.\n\n\u201cTo avoid her,\u201d he continued, \u201cI secretly purchased this dwelling,\nremote from the place of her abode. There I lived for a brief time,\nhappy; a new life with loftier purposes dawned upon me; I formed\nanother attachment--a higher and more noble one.\n\n\u201cOne evening as I was walking upon the balcony thinking of my new-found\njoys, a figure came creeping up through the shrubbery towards me. To my\namazement it proved to be the girl who claimed me.\n\n\u201cWhen I saw her, rage entered my heart, and I felt as if I could\nannihilate her. But, suppressing all show of feeling, I went with her\ninto the house, and appointed her this room for the night. A demoniac\nidea had presented itself to my mind; it came unsought, but under the\nexcitement of the moment it seemed like a good angel of deliverance.\n\n\u201cTo further this idea, I lay down beside her. Presently she fell into\na light slumber. At first a slight expression of pleasure played upon\nher lips, but ere long the fatigue of her journey overcame her, and she\nslept heavily.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said he, his countenance assuming a convulsive and ghastly\naspect, \u201cI arose on tiptoe, and collecting the heavy comforters and\nlarge downy pillows of the bed, I deliberately piled them on her one\nupon the other, and pressing them down with all my gathered force, I\nstifled her in her sleep!\n\n\u201cNo cry, no groan from my victim betrayed the unhallowed deed, and\nbefore the first dawn of day I was driving furiously over the road to\nthe river\u2019s bank, from which into the watery depth below I threw this\nmillstone of my life.\n\n\u201cWhen I drove back the morning had dawned. The daylight seemed to pry\ninto the secrets of the past night. I would fain shun it--the garish\nlight disturbed me. The morning sun, which had ever been my delight,\nseemed now a mocking imp of curiosity; the house and grounds looked\nbare and desolate; a blight had fallen upon their former comeliness.\n\n\u201cA strange fascination again drew me into the chamber which had been\nthe scene of my crime. When there I re-enacted the last night\u2019s work.\nThe bed and furniture seemed to come toward me and taunt me with the\nfell crime I had committed. \u2018I was justified in the act,\u2019 said I to\nthese dumb accusers, as though they had been, living witnesses. \u2018She\nwas the bane of my existence.\u2019 And with cunning precision I arranged\nthe disordered room, smoothed the pillows, and levelled the coverlet.\n\u2018The dead cannot speak,\u2019 said I. \u2018This thing is hidden.\u2019\n\n\u201cAfter this performance I went forth, hoping by a sharp walk to drown\nthe memory of the momentary deed. I passed through the garden and\nreached the sloping hill. There, where the low fence joined the open\nroad, I was met by the lady whom I loved. She was taking the morning\nair, and with her smiling face seemed drinking in its balmy freshness.\n\n\u201c\u2018You look ill,\u2019 said she, with a pitying glance. \u2018See what I have\nbrought for you,\u2019 and she held forth a newly-plucked bouquet of flowers.\n\n\u201cI took the proffered blossoms hurriedly, dreading to meet her clear\neye, which I felt must surely read my guilt. Burying the flowers in my\nbreast, and with an effort to smile that sickened me, I bowed low to\nthe ground and hurried on.\n\n\u201cWhen beyond her sight I drew the nosegay from its hiding place--it was\nwithered as if scorched by a burning heat! Upon looking closer at this\nstrange phenomena, I beheld, to my horror, in dim outline, the face of\nthe murdered! Whence came the impression? Had my riotous heart burnt\nthe secret upon those blushing petals?\n\n\u201cFrantically I tore open my shirt, when lo! upon my breast I beheld\nimprinted a picture of the direful deed--seared in by rays more potent\nthan the sun\u2019s--photographed there, as if by the lightning\u2019s fierce\nstroke!\n\n\u201cPresently a band of children on their way to school overtook me, and\nbegan to whisper to each other as they passed. I saw that they looked\nat me with suspicion in their eyes. \u2018They too can see the brand,\u2019\nthought I; \u2018they are mouthing about it now.\u2019\n\n\u201cUrged to desperation, I plunged into a thicket near by. Amid a group\nof trees in its centre, one lifted itself higher and straighter than\nits companions. Upon its topmost branch, as I chanced to lift my eyes,\nI beheld to my terror the woman whom I had sent into eternity, looking\ndown upon me with scoffs and grimaces!\n\n\u201cThe ghostly apparition wrought me to frenzy. In hot haste I climbed\nthe tree. Its straight, smooth sides, under ordinary circumstances\nwould have proved a barrier to my efforts, but in my excitement they\nformed no obstacle. Reaching the top, I endeavored to grasp her.\nStretching out my arms and clasping frantically the air, I fell dead to\nthe ground.\n\n\u201cThus was I born into the spirit world. The idea that last possessed me\non earth, first possessed me in the spirit life.\n\n\u201cNo mortal man can describe the horror I experienced on finding myself\nin the midst of a boundless space, face to face with mine enemy. Her\nnarrow intellect and strong animal nature seemed to have expanded,\neven as I have seen the face of a child expand from pleasing infancy\ninto idiotic youth. This animal part of her immortality roused my\nire--struck some savage chord in my nature--and I rose up like a wild\nbeast to attack her; but the creature laughed and jeered at my vain\nefforts. She led me thus, in fruitless pursuit, further and further\ninto space; inciting me on by her taunts and ringing laugh, until I\nfound myself in a dark and noisome pit, when she suddenly vanished.\n\n\u201cIgnorant of the peculiarities of spirit condition, I could not grope\nmy way out of this place, which appeared to me a very hell. I wandered\nin this gloomy labyrinth, breathing the foul air, and uttering fearful\ncries which struck my ears with anguish. Black, threatening shapes\nappeared to stand in the intricate windings of that gloomy cavern,\nready to seize me if I dared to essay my escape. When my agony had\nreached its utmost bounds of endurance, I felt myself growing strangely\nlight, and like some thin vapor I ascended to the mouth of the pit and\nmade my exit into the outer air.\n\n\u201cThe place I then discovered to be merely a cavern or deserted mine,\nbut to my unhappy condition of mind it had appeared as the home of the\ndamned.\n\n\u201cOut into space again, I saw afar off, as across the continent, the\ndwelling where I had passed the last days of my eventful life. A\ncurrent of air like the shock from an electric wire carried me back to\nthe spot.\n\n\u201cReturned to the scene of my crime, I became possessed with the desire\nto expose to view the deed I had committed, and to reveal my villany\nto the community. For two weary years I have hovered around this place\nfor that purpose; but I have failed hitherto, as you have seen me fail\nto-night.\u201d\n\nAs he finished his narrative I observed he seemed about to relax into\na morbid condition again. To prevent this, I seized him kindly by the\nshoulder and exclaimed, \u201cFriend, you must come with me. Your life,\nyour future welfare is imperiled. You are like one shut up in a vault,\nbreathing his own exhalations. You do not understand the science of\nmind.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe science of mind?\u201d said he. \u201cWhat have I to do with that? \u2019Tis the\ncurse of Cain resting upon me. I cannot undo the evil that I have done.\nI am an outcast!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe wrong you have done,\u201d said I, \u201cbecomes doubly, trebly magnified\nby thus living it over day by day. You have committed a crime. Do you\nwish to perpetuate that crime? You pursue the very course to make it\npermanent and enduring. Mind acts upon matter and matter reacts upon\nmind. You have made the house a partner to the deed you have committed\nby constantly associating it with the act. You have tainted its walls\nand poisoned it within and without.\n\n\u201cIt becomes sentient and reacts upon you. It becomes a magnet, a\nloadstone to draw you. Your constant habit of associating it in your\nmind with the past, creates around it an atmosphere which is a part of\nyour being and welds you to it, so that you, the house, and the deed,\nbecome one mighty monster, inseparable. The idea that you can expiate\nthe deed by this self-torture is vain. You can neither confer good upon\nyourself nor your victim. Leave off and follow me.\u201d\n\nThese last words seemed to have the desired effect, for he raised his\neyes with a sad smile, placed his hand in mine, and said:\n\n\u201cI will go with you.\u201d\n\nHappy that my efforts proved availing, I hurried on in a joyous mood,\nsoon rising above the earth and bearing my companion to my spirit home.\n\nThe pure air of the fragrant fields revived him, and by the time we\narrived at my own garden-home he seemed born into a new life.\n\nI set him down under my arbor, now dripping with golden fruits,\nand having refreshed him with cordial (angels\u2019 food), I called his\nattention to the beauties around us; the birds, the flowers, and the\nluxurious growth of nature, which shed such abundance around my home.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said I, \u201chow nature works. If the roots of the tree meet with\nobstacles they start off in another direction. They do not wind and\nwind themselves around one spot. If they did death would ensue.\n\n\u201cIn every man\u2019s life there are deeds to be regretted--wrongs which he\nwould gladly undo--but painful imaginings and fruitless remorse will\nnot set them right. Only by being actively engaged in some nobler\ndirection can atonement be made.\n\n\u201cThis woman, whom you have injured, is in magnetic rapport with you;\nand while you are in this moody, self-denunciatory frame of mind, your\nrestless, unhappy condition acts upon her, preventing her from becoming\ncontented and happy; then her state reacts back upon you, and thus an\nevil equilibrium is maintained.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see my error,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cTell me what to do and I will do it.\u201d\n\nIt was arranged that he should remain with me. We worked together; he\nbecame happy and his mind no longer reverted to the past, but active\nand healthful employment engaged his hours.\n\nWhen he had recovered sufficiently I took him to see his former\ncompanion. He found her in a pleasant home, looking buoyant and happy.\nAll that was demoniac had vanished from her face. Surprised, he burst\ninto tears as he beheld her. \u201cWeep not,\u201d said she, \u201cfor I am happy now.\nThe past is forgotten.\u201d\n\nThey compared notes, and found that peace had entered into her soul\nwhen he had obliterated the past from his memory and commenced his\nlabors in a new life.\n\nThus we see that the evil passions and attributes of one nature may\nawaken and kindle like passions in another, which can only be subdued\nby letting them pass unnoticed, and also by arousing the higher\nfaculties into activity.\n\n\n\n\nWASHINGTON IRVING.\n\n_VISIT TO HENRY CLAY_.\n\n\nHaving recovered my health after a sojourn of two weeks amid the\ncharming scenery of Mount Rosalia, or the \u201cRose-colored Mount,\u201d I set\nforth one morning, accompanied by a competent guide, to visit the home\nof my friend, Henry Clay. The morning was uncommonly fine, even for the\nsweet Land of the Blest, and the fragrance from the roses blooming upon\nthe hill-side was fairly intoxicating.\n\nOur phaeton was a small, white, swan-shaped carriage, ornamented with\ngolden designs, and propelled by a galvanic battery in the graceful\nswan-head, which at my request took the place of the ordinary steed.\n\nThis was, to me, an exceedingly novel mode of travel, which my short\nsojourn in the spirit world had prevented me from before enjoying.\n\nWe glided over the electric ground with the speed of lightning and\nsmooth harmony of music. The road over which we rolled was white and\nlustrous as parian marble, and adorned on either side with most rare\nand beautiful forms of foliage; ever and anon we passed gay cavalcades\nand bands of spirits, who were evidently, from their festal garments,\nand the bright emanations which they diffused through the air, bound\nfor some harmonial gathering on one of the numerous islands which dot\nthe sparkling river Washingtonia, so named after George Washington.\n\nThe distance from the point whence I started, according to earth\u2019s\ncomputation, was over one hundred miles; but though I desired my guide\nto move onward as slowly as possible, that I might enjoy the prospect\nbefore me, we reached our destination in less than a quarter of an hour!\n\nI had received a special invitation from Henry Clay to visit him on\nthis occasion, as he had called together some choice friends to give\nme welcome; yet, although I knew I was expected, my surprise cannot\nbe described upon beholding the air filled with bevies of beautiful\nladies, like radiant birds, approaching, with the sound of music and\nflutter of flowers, to receive me. Thus surrounded and escorted, I was\nborne to the noble palace (for such it may be justly termed) of Henry\nClay.\n\nThe structure is of white alabaster, faced with a pale yellow\nsemi-transparent stone, which glistened most gorgeously. The form of\nthe building is unlike any order of architecture with which I had\nbeen acquainted. The avenue by which it was approached was decorated\nalternately with statues of representative Americans, and a peculiar\nflowering tree, whose green leaves and yellow blossoms, of gossamer\ntexture, resembled the fine mist of a summer morning. Terminating,\nthis avenue was the main entrance, surmounted by the grand dome of\nthe edifice. In the rear of this rotunda, extending on either side,\nappeared the main building, rising, turret on turret, like a stupendous\nmountain of alabaster beaming as with soft moonlight in the clear\nsummer air.\n\nWe entered by ascending a staircase composed of twelve broad steps.\nAnd here let me pause, before recounting my interview with the\ncelebrated statesman, to describe the main hall, whose magnificence I,\nupon entering, hastily surveyed, but which I afterward studied more\ncompletely. The floor of this hall was formed of delicate cerulean\nblue gems. From its centre sprang, like a fountain, a most wonderful\nrepresentation of a flowering plant resembling the lotus, composed\nof precious and brilliant stones. The green leaves forming the base\nwere of transparent emerald, and the white lily which surmounted\nthe stem blossomed out clearer than any crystal. The yellow centre,\ncorresponding to the pistils, formed a divan. This beautiful ornament\nwas intended for the desk of the orator. The dome, which was several\nhundred feet high, was open to the summer sky, and arranged in tiers\ngraduated one above the other. The lower tier was filled with paintings\nindicating the progress of the United States of America. Surmounting\nthis was a gallery of small compartments, each hung with silver\nand gold gauze drapery, and similar in construction to the boxes\nof a theatre; these opened into halls or alleys leading to private\napartments connecting with the main building. Above these boxes were\nplaced artistically-carved animals, representing the native beasts of\nAmerica. Above these again, appeared groups in marble of the fruits of\nthe country.\n\nNo sooner had I entered the building which I have been describing, than\na peculiar rushing sound like distant music reached my ear; on lifting\nmy eyes in the direction of the sound, I beheld descending through\nthe air the majestic form of Henry Clay. He approached with extended\nhand and fascinating smile to receive me. How like and yet how unlike\nthe famous man I had known on earth! The gray hair of age had given\nplace to the abundant glossy locks of youth. The intellectual eye\nbeamed with a new life and his whole person sent forth an effulgence\nmost attractive. Those of my readers who knew him on earth will well\nremember the peculiar fascination of his sphere, but they can form from\nthe remembrance but a slight idea of the attractive aura he sheds forth\nin this existence. I immediately felt myself drawn by an invisible\npower toward him. He grasped my hand with the frank cordiality and\ngrace of former days, and leading me thus, we arose together and,\npassing through one of the arched compartments of the upper tier,\nentered another portion of the building. As we moved on I seemed to\nlive portions of my earthly life, long past. The gorgeous and fantastic\narchitecture which everywhere met my eye reminded me of the halls of\nthe Alhambra. Swiftly passing, we emerged through a spacious arch upon\nan open arbor, where were congregated the priests whom I had been\ninvited to meet. I started back with a shock of delight when I beheld,\nin the centre of the group, the immortal figure of George Washington.\nI knew him instantly, partly from the likenesses which had been extant\non earth, and partly from the noble spirit which emanated like a sun\nfrom his person. The group parted as we entered and I immediately felt,\nresting upon my shoulder like a benediction, the soft, firm hand of the\nFather of his Country. \u201cWashington!\u201d I exclaimed, fervidly grasping his\nhand. \u201cAt length we have met!\u201d he responded, and a smile of ineffable\njoy lighted his countenance. He then spoke of the many changes through\nwhich the United States had passed since his removal to the spirit\nland. I was surprised at the extent of knowledge he displayed. Not the\nslightest variation in the scale of political economy had escaped his\nnotice. He expressed himself pleased especially at the great progress\nand development of the people within the last twenty years. He alluded\nto their rapid march through the western territories; the founding\nof new and important States; the development of the agricultural\nand mineral resources of countries supposed to be almost valueless;\nof the invention and construction of machinery adapted to the wants\nand necessities of those new and rapidly-increasing States. \u201cThis\nmarvellous growth is owing to their being essentially a mediumistic\npeople--is it not so?\u201d said he, smiling and turning to the assembled\nguests. \u201cYes, yes!\u201d I heard repeated on all sides. On this commenced a\ngeneral conversation. I listened as one in a dream. Around me I beheld\nthe faces and forms of the heroes of past history, each bearing the\nshape and semblance of humanity, though removed from earth millions of\nmiles into space. One and all emitted, like stars, their own peculiar\nluminous aura. Collected in motley groups were Benjamin Franklin, John\nHancock, William Penn, Old General Jackson, John Jacob Astor, De Witt\nClinton, and many of the old Knickerbocker residents of New York; with\nSir Robert Peel, Lord Brougham, the Duke of Wellington, Hunt, Keats,\nByron, Scott, Cowper, Hume, Goethe, De Stael, Mrs. Hemans, and many\nothers.\n\n\u201cThe people of America have progressed to an astonishing degree,\u201d said\na musical voice at my left. \u201cWe must initiate Irving into the means by\nwhich we impart knowledge to the mediumistic nation through the Cabinet\nat Washington.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d responded Henry Clay. \u201cLet all formalities cease. We will\npartake of refreshments, and then Franklin will make him acquainted\nwith the wonderful aids to science and humanity with which he has\nsupplied my residence.\u201d\n\nAs he ceased speaking, a shower of sound, like the music from the\nringing of innumerable crystal bells, filled the air. Accompanying\nthis, and apparently descending from the ceiling, a soft light of\naromatic odor diffused itself through the apartment. This was followed\nby the appearance of a shining disk of amber and pearl, revolving\nrapidly in its descent till it reached the congregated party. This\nmagic circle (which Thomas Hood, who was present, facetiously termed\nthe \u201cwheel of fortune\u201d) was supplied with refreshments truly supernal.\nHere were fruits of most brilliant dyes; some of soft, pulpy flesh,\nand others of the consistency of honey; some more transparent than the\ndiamonds of earth; others substantial, seemingly intended to supply the\ndemands of hunger. Here were confections resembling foam and cloud,\nwhose very taste was elysium. The guests ate and chatted vivaciously. I\nreceived much information concerning the various products of this great\nland which were displayed upon the table. The most luscious fruits,\nI considered, both in flavor and quality, were those produced on an\nisland in the spirit land corresponding to your island of Cuba, which\nwas under the protection of a band of spirits called the \u201cGood Sisters.\u201d\n\nThe company having regaled themselves at the table, arose and divided\ninto groups, laughing and chatting like ordinary mortals. I felt\nimmediately attracted to a cluster of which Benjamin Franklin was\nthe magnetic centre. I reminded him of the duties imposed on him by\nour host, and told him playfully that I desired to investigate the\nmysteries of this wonderful palace. He cordially acquiesced, and, in\ncompany with a few friends, we commenced our explorations. I inquired\nas to the construction of the table from which we had just arisen,\nso superior to the cumbersome ones of earth. \u201cIt is a very simple\ncontrivance,\u201d he smilingly remarked. \u201cYou observe inserted in these\ntwisted columns, ornamented with leaves, which support the ceiling,\nan electric wire, similar to that of a telegraph. From each of these\ncentral columns, this wire connects with the upper gallery. Here,\u201d said\nhe, pointing to one of the leafy ornaments, \u201cyou perceive the means\nof communicating. Unobserved by you, our gracious host touched one of\nthese springs which are connected with the crystal bells, and announced\nto his servants his desire for refreshments.\u201d \u201cServants!\u201d exclaimed I.\n\u201cHow singular! I little supposed, from the religious teachings I had\nreceived, that there would be menials in heaven!\u201d\n\n\u201cThee has a poor memory,\u201d remarked William Penn, with a bright smile,\n\u201cDid not the Bible teach thee that there was an upper and a lower seat?\nThese servants are composed mostly of those who were held in slavery on\nearth and who desire to receive instruction that they may progress in\nthe spheres. They are willing assistants; giving, that they may receive\nin return. If thee dislike the term \u2018servant,\u2019 thee may use the term\n\u2018friend,\u2019 for they are friends and co-workers. Through those doors in\nthe gallery they bring the refreshments which they gather from the\nhanging gardens without, where they live like the Peries of the East.\nThe luxury of the princes of earth cannot compare with the life of\nenjoyment and freedom led by those whom I have termed \u2018servants.\u2019\u201d\n\nI here took the opportunity to ask Franklin if it was necessary,\nin communicating with absent individuals, to use those external\nappliances? \u201cNot always; thought can commune with thought if upon the\nsame plane; but a mind like that of our great statesman cannot readily\ncommunicate with one whose mind on earth never rose above the domestic\naffairs of life. In such cases, external means are necessary.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said he, turning; \u201cI will show you something more remarkable\nthan this.\u201d So saying, he led me through an open door into one of the\nspacious gardens which grace the palace on either side. We walked but\na few moments, arm in arm, over a soft velvet like lawn, of the color\nof a delicate violet. Exquisite tints everywhere met my eye. The air\nwas like wine, and so luscious and entrancing were the surroundings\nthat I felt inclined to tarry, but my sage guide, calling my attention\nto the majestic dome towering in the air, desired me to exert my will\nto ascend. I did so, and immediately felt myself rising as if pressed\nup by some elastic substance, until I reached the top. The dome, which\nappeared to be composed of glass, I perceived, as I approached, was\ncovered with a thin web resembling that of a spider. The apex of this\ndome was surmounted by a globe representing the planet earth, with its\ncontinents and seas. Openings corresponding to the different continents\nadmitted persons into the globe. We entered that corresponding to\nthe continent of North America. Each of these entrances, I was told,\nwas particularly adapted to the admission of the inhabitants of the\ndifferent localities they represented. On looking down I beheld the\napartment I had first entered. It was no longer vacant--each gallery\nwas filled with spectators. On the lily-shaped rostrum stood Henry\nClay and George Washington--Washington speaking to the people. \u201cYou\nobserve,\u201d said my guide, \u201ca secondary stem from that lily branches\noff and extends to this point. It appears to you a mere ornament, but\nit transmits the thoughts and words of the speaker to the city of\nWashington. Other branches, as you notice, lead in other directions. If\nthe speaker desires his thoughts to be transmitted to any given point,\nhe leans toward the stem leading to that point. This silken web which\nyou have admired, is a sensitive electric telegraph. It is composed of\nthe elements of mind; in the world you have lately inhabited it would\nbe intangible, but it has a subtle connection with the human brain,\nand spirit thoughts directed through it go with the promptness of\nelectricity to their destination. Thought is electric, but its power\nof transmitting itself is, like that of the human voice, limited;\nthe voice requires the artificial assistance of a speaking-trumpet\nto throw its sound beyond the ordinary distance; thought requires a\nsimilar artificial conductor. You remember,\u201d said Franklin, \u201cin my\nearly experiments with the kite and key, I could not obtain the spark\nuntil I had established the necessary attraction, although the air\nwas filled with the electric current. So of the thought-electricity,\nwhich is constantly flowing; we have to apply means to concentrate it\nand give it form and expression. On earth, word and gesture are media\nfor thought, but the savans have not yet discovered the means by which\nunspoken thought can take form and expression. No galvanic wire nor\nchemical battery has yet been invented by them, through which these\nelectric sparks may be drawn down from their unseen habitations among\nthe clouds; but in the world of spirits this great discovery, as I\nhave shown you, has been made. In this appliance you find the thoughts\nof the speaker running through these sensitive wires until, like\ntelegraphic messages, they reach their destination on earth.\u201d\n\nI listened to Franklin\u2019s explanation of this gigantic sensorium with\nmy soul filled with love and admiration for the great Creator who\nhad formed the human mind with its vast capacity for penetrating the\nsublime mysteries of nature.\n\nAfter leaving the dome I continued my inspection of the edifice. But of\nits halls and galleries, its boudoirs, libraries, and peerless gardens,\nI will speak at some future time.\n\n\n\n\nNAPOLEON BONAPARTE.\n\n_TO THE FRENCH NATION_.\n\n\nTriumph sits regent upon the Napoleonic banner. Napoleon the First is\ndictator to Napoleon the Third. By my side stands Josephine. We were\nnot destined to part eternally. In Louis Napoleon Bonaparte her blood\nand mine commingle. _Restez-vous, mon patrie; Napoleon shall decide\naright. _No, petit gar\u00e7on, _Napoleon le Grand will place you upon the\nhighest pinnacle of peace.\n\nFate is inexorable. The decrees of destiny are more potent than the\nwisdom of man. France and Napoleon are indissoluble. The star of\nBonaparte is destined to shine yet for the next half-century. None but\na patriot shall rule France. No proud Austrian, nor weak and haughty\nBourbon shall flame their colors from the palaces of France. No, my\ncountryman! he who serves you, who leads your armies to victory, who\nraises your citizens to distinction, he whose courage is undaunted, he\nwho has the power of prescience--is Napoleon.\n\nWhen Louis shall join me his spirit and mine will still animate the\nBonapartes who shall come after us.\n\nRepose entire confidence in his discretion. Napoleon the Third lives\nonly for France.\n\nYou cry for liberty of speech and liberty of the press. But liberty is\nanarchy. Would you demand liberty for the army? Without a head to guide\nand control it, the army of France would be a scourge.\n\nThrough calamity the most depressing, the hand of destiny has led Louis\nNapoleon to the throne of France, and against sickness and disease,\nagainst the hand of the assassin, and against vilifications of his\nenemies, it will hold him there, firm. His time has not yet come.\nBefore he bids adieu to life he will secure an able leader for France.\n\nI give him my hand. I embrace him in spirit. The shadow of Napoleon\nattends him by day and by night.\n\nAdieu, NAPOLEON.\n\n\n\n\nW. M. THACKERAY.\n\n_HIS POST MORTEM EXPERIENCE_.\n\n\nPoor Will Thackeray, when a stripling, was fit to kneel in the street\nbefore his mistress, that bright luminary who shone to his boyish eyes\nlike a star of the first magnitude! Alas, he discovered her to be one\nof the sixteenth, and by the time he had ceased to care for polished\nboots and stiff, broad collars, she had dwindled down to an ordinary\npiece of humanity!\n\nHe found his boon companions, like himself, liable to mistake an ant\nfor a whale and think the King of England next in royalty to a god!\n\nWhat a fool he made of himself in the eyes of those who were wiser than\nhe, when he swore the crown of England was made of unalloyed gold! The\nwater he drank was filled with animalculae, yet he swore it was pure\nas the gods\u2019 nectar. The best and freshest air he breathed contained\npoison, yet his boyish wisdom knew better than that.\n\nPoor Thackeray! wiser men than he knew that youthful imagination was\na cheat; that the mistress of his heart was not a goddess; and wiser\nbeings than they all knew--angelic beings, living in the golden streets\nof Paradise, knew--that the conception of what the spirit after death\nwould be able to do was as far from the truth as were his boyish dreams\nof the mistress of his heart!\n\nPoor Thackeray! he has attained that superior wisdom now! He walks,\nhimself a ghost, among the ghosts of the past; and these \u201cairy\nnothings\u201d nod and smile, and shake hands, and say:\n\n\u201cYes, we are ourselves.\u201d\n\nHe thrusts his hands into his trowsers pockets, and remembers the time\nwhen he thought it would be indecent to go naked in the New Jerusalem!\nTrowsers, forsooth! Yes, here they are, pockets and all; and he dives\nhis hands in deeper, jingling something which strongly resembles cash;\nand struts about and hobnobs with Addison, Spencer, Sterne, old Dean\nSwift, and he asks himself, \u201care these the great men of my fancy?\u201d On\nreflection he finds he had expected to meet these luminaries shining\nlike actual stars in the firmament, attended by some undefined splendor.\n\nPoor Will Thackeray! he finds the same dross in the gold, the same\nanimalculae in the water, the same poison in the air, the same fact\nthat men are not gods in that much-vaunted place called heaven, as on\nthe much-abused earth. But he wipes his spectacles, and clears away the\nmist of speculation and fancy, which has bedimmed his eyes, and looks\nabout him more hopefully and trustfully than in the days when he walked\nthrough Vanity Fair and saw how Mr. Timms, with not a penny in the\nbank, pinched himself to give a little dinner in imitation of a great\nlord who gave a great dinner, and had gold beyond his count; snobs, who\nwore paste jewels and cotton-backed velvet, who cursed a fellow and\nstrutted about in imitation of noble lords, who wore real diamonds and\nsilken velvets! mimicking the follies of the great, but never their\nnoble deeds and heroisms.\n\nHe is beyond snobs now. He is in the land of heroisms and heroes. Yet\nhe feels he has been cheated by the fat parson who stole sovereigns\nfrom his pocket to keep him out of h----! His spiritual bones fairly\nache with the leagues he has travelled, hunting up the throne of God!\n\u201cWhere the deuce,\u201d he mutters, \u201cis the showman?\u201d He can\u2019t find the lake\nof fire and brimstone without a guide.\n\nPoor Thackeray! he again wipes his spectacles and feels he has been\nsold! This life on the other side of Jordan he finds to be what his\nAmerican cousins would call a \u201chumbug,\u201d a downright swindle upon\nthe sympathies and good taste of those who wear long streamers of\ncrape, and groan and sob over his funeral rites! He feels in duty\nbound (out of consideration for those mourners who expect nothing\nelse) to go scudding through the air in a loose white shroud, or to\nrest cosily housed away in the \u201cbosom of his Maker,\u201d like a big,\ngrown-up infant that he is, or else to be howling at the top of his\nlungs hallelujahs!--he that could never raise a note. And, if not so,\ncertainly, out of compliment to the judgment of his boon companions,\nhe should be engaged in the dread alternative of sitting astride a\npair of balances and being \u201cweighed and found wanting;\u201d or having been\nsent by the relentless Judge into everlasting torment \u201cwhere there is\ncursing and gnashing of teeth,\u201d he should be found there tormenting his\nfellow-imps!\n\nBut alas! to his mortification, nothing of the kind is occurring or\nseems likely to occur.\n\nHe has been as active as the next man since his arrival in ghostdom.\nHe has peeped under the _chapeaux_ of every solemn pilgrim whom he has\npassed, but failed to find the four-and-twenty elders who have washed\ntheir robes in the blood of the Lamb. What has he found? He really is\nashamed to own up to the number of mountain sides and sloping hills\nhe has inspected in the vain search for a place he used to call h----\n(he thought it blasphemy to add the other three letters); but neither\ncloven foot, nor forked tail, nor horns, nor any kind of fearful person\nin black, has pounced upon him; nor has he been seized by any claimant\nfor leaving the world unshriven, as he did.\n\nPoor Will Thackeray! it has been a great disappointment to him! He\nexpected some kind of sensational reception--thunder or lightning, or\nsome big God whose towering front might vie with Chimborazo--to awe him\ninto the consideration that he had become a spirit and was launched\ninto the awful precincts of eternity! No wonder he feels dogged and\nput upon to find himself thus bamboozled! He undertook a long and\nventuresome journey to \u201csee the elephant,\u201d but it wasn\u2019t there!\n\nHe can\u2019t complain against the citizens of this famous \u201cundiscovered\nbourne\u201d; they have done all that\u2019s fair and square by him; they have\nshown all that they have got; and he is too much of a gentleman\nto taunt them. He knows they feel ashamed that they haven\u2019t those\ncuriosities that their Vicegerents on earth had vouched for their\nhaving; he can see it in their faces; but he considers himself in duty\nbound to prepare his fellow-citizens for what they are to expect.\n\n\n\n\nARCHBISHOP HUGHES.\n\n_TWO NATURAL RELIGIONS_.\n\n\nThere are two great natural religions before the world, the Roman\nCatholic and the Spiritualistic; and both are adapted to the wants of\nthe race.\n\nMan naturally gives expression to his thoughts by external forms\ncorresponding to his ideas.\n\nThe Roman Catholic religion is accused of being a system of forms and\nceremonies, but therein lies its wonderful adaptation to humanity.\nThought ever seeks expression in form, even as a mother\u2019s love for her\ninfant finds expression in her ardent embrace.\n\nLove is the prevailing element of the Catholic religion, as shown by\nthe love of the Son of God for poor, ignorant, sinful creatures.\n\nWe do not present this to the mind ideally. We call in the outcast and\nthe beggar, and we expose to their view, in the great cathedrals, the\nSon of God, as he appeared in all his various experiences of human life.\n\nThe parent who can earn but a scanty pittance for his offspring, sees\nbefore him Jesus lying in the manger, equal in squalid poverty with the\nlowest of mankind.\n\nThe majesty and glory of the courts of Heaven are symbolized in the\nRoman Church. _There_ is gathered the wealth of the world! All that is\nyet attained in the representation of the grand, the beautiful, the\nmajestic, the sublime, and the devotional, is collected in the Mother\nof Churches.\n\nWhat earthly king, in his noble palace, with its costly architecture,\nits ornaments of silver and gold, its rare paintings and statuary,\nthe wealth and accumulation of many sovereigns, would admit into its\nsacred precincts the poor and the lowly, the beggar and the thief, the\nMagdalen and the Lazarus to sully with their presence his royal abode?\n\nBut we erect palaces to the King of Heaven! regal in architecture,\nand adorned with beauty surpassing in magnificence earthly royalty,\nin which the lowliest may enter on an equality with the prince; his\nuntutored mind, his uncultivated senses may listen to music of the\nhighest order. The pealing tones of the organ resound under the touch\nof the highest masters of art for his simple ear. Listening to those\nstrains, his mind forms a conception of the harmony and beatitude of\nHeaven!\n\nEven death is not looked upon with horror by the Catholic. If he lose a\nfriend in this life, unlike the Protestant, he does not abandon him in\noblivion, but his sympathies still extend to him by offering masses for\nhis soul. And it is because it is so adapted to man\u2019s spiritual nature\nthat the Catholic religion has withstood the shock and surge of ages!\n\nThe restless, heaving billows of time have washed against the\nseven-hilled Church in vain.\n\nMy soul rests in peace. It has taken its abode in Elysium. And in this\nworld among the stars, seeing clearer and further than when I inhabited\nthe lowly planet earth, I look down upon the struggling, dying race I\nhave left behind, and feel still, that the _Roman Catholic religion is\nthe religion for the masses_.\n\nA great majority of men are born into the world but little higher than\nthe beasts that perish. Their spiritual natures, though feeble, need\nfood that is adapted to their wants. That food we furnish.\n\nOur priests, our sisters of charity, our holy fathers, our Benedictine\nmonks, our nuns, are to be found in every quarter of the globe. On the\nmountains of everlasting snow, among the icebergs of the Polar Sea, and\nin the sandy deserts; on inhospitable shores, in the torrid zone, under\nthe burning rays of the equatorial sun; with the savage and with the\nsage they are found ever ready to stimulate the spiritual nature, to\ngive earthly advice, and supply material wants.\n\nAs a spirit I speak of what I think best adapted to the needs of man.\nI endeavor to throw aside the prejudices of education. I look upon the\nProtestant religion as unnatural; a monstrous belief which deforms man.\nSo far as I can see, its influence has been blighting. It takes youth,\njoy, and animation from the world. It grants no indulgence for sin, nor\nfor the mistakes of ignorance. It is cruel and harsh, and men become\nnarrow and self-elated under its teachings.\n\nThe Spiritualistic religion resembles the Catholic in its breadth and\namplitude, and in its humanizing and equalizing influence. I expect the\nday will come when all minor beliefs will be swallowed up in these two\ngreat religions.\n\nThe Catholic Church in the spirit world is not so extensive as it\nis upon earth. Its usefulness is more especially adapted to earthly\nconditions.\n\nThere are some noble cathedrals in the spirit world. Mass is offered up\nevery morning at the cathedral of the Five Virgins in my bishopric.\n\nThe sisterhood of the Five Wise Virgins, newly organized, inhabit\nbeautiful and commodious edifices adjacent.\n\nIt is their business to escort from earth youthful souls who have been\nbaptized in the Church, and who are friendless and vagrant, having\ninhabited while on earth such parts of New York City as the Five Points\nand Water street, and having neither kindred nor connection to claim\nthem.\n\nThese are received into the beautiful home of the sisterhood. They\nbathe in the golden fountains of youth, and are instructed in various\nways. They are taught the uses of magnetism, mesmerism, and psychology,\nand return to earth to rap, write, and speak, through media, and to\nbring back the stray lambs to the fold.\n\n\n\n\nEDGAR A. POE.\n\n_THE LOST SOUL_.\n\n\nHark the bell! the funeral bell,\n    Calling the soul\n    To its goal.\nOh! the haunted human heart,\nFrom its idol doomed to part!\nYet a twofold being bearing,\nShe and I apart are tearing;\nShe to heaven I to hell!\nGoing, going! Hark the bell!\n    Far in hell,\n    Tolling, tolling.\n    Fiends are rolling,\nWhitened bones, and coffins reeking,\nFearful darkness grimly creeping\n    On my soul,\n    My vision searing,\n    She disappearing,\n    Drawn from me\n    By a soul I cannot see,\nWhom I know can never love her.\nOh! that soul could I discover,\n    I would go,\n    Steeped in woe,\nDown to darkness, down to hell!\nHark the bell! Farewell! farewell!\n\n\n\n\nJEAN PAUL RICHTER.\n\n_INVISIBLE INFLUENCES._\n\n\nA ship is on the ocean. The wind is fair. All hands are in motion.\nBut a few hours since, it left port. Among its passengers is a gay\ntraveller; he wears a silken cloak fringed with gold. The sailors\nadmire his splendor; they gather around him as he walks the deck with\nhis flying robe. They put forth their rough hands to feel its soft\ntexture; its warm, bright color gives pleasure to their eyes. As they\ngaze their pulses heighten, their steps become unsteady, their eyes\nwander from duty, their great sturdy frames quiver with emotion. The\ncaptain rallies them, but in vain.\n\nWhat secret foe is in their midst? Their parched tongues, cleaving\nto the roofs of their mouths, call for the surgeon. He comes--he\nquestions, \u201cFrom whence comest thou?\u201d \u201cFrom the Orient,\u201d the traveller\nreplies. The surgeon gasps and shakes his head. He, too, is stricken\nwith fear. \u201c\u2019Tis the _plague_!\u201d he whispers. An unseen, deadly foe is\nstalking beneath that gay cloak! The traveller hears and shudders; he\nflings off his gay vestment. The waves gather up the silken folds. But\nthe sacrifice is useless. A fell hand strikes down both traveller and\nsailor. As they gasp and die they are hurried to the ship\u2019s side; they\nare plunged overboard; a seething, foaming grave yawns to receive them.\n\nThe ship glides on. Those who remain wash the deck with water. They\ncannot wash away the demon, which is everywhere and yet nowhere....\nPoisons as subtle attend the human spirit, baneful and contagious as\nthe plague!\n\nSee yonder peaceful cottage, nestling by the hillside; hope and\ncontentment dwell therein; within its walls beauty and grace awaken\nharmony. Lured by the bright sunshine, a stranger enters the door. He\nsits and chats awhile with the inmates. His talk is pleasant, and as he\nconverses a cloud falls upon the house, the sunshine becomes darkened,\nand the dwellers within the pretty cottage shiver as with cold. They\nheed not the change, for the chat of their guest delights them. But\nwhen he departs he leaves behind him a poison more baneful than the\nplague.\n\nThe inmates of the peaceful cottage look with gloomy eyes one upon the\nother; they become dissatisfied and distracted among themselves, and\ndiscord takes the place of harmony.\n\nSecret influences are at work, poisons thrown out by the sphere of\nthe guest. A worse fate befalls them than befell the sailors who were\ninvaded by the insidious Plague.\n\nI have seen in nature a fair face clouded suddenly--made gloomy\nand unlovely--by the unspoken thought of another. Thought is\ncontagious--some varieties of it poisonous! I have seen the countenance\nof an innocent child transformed into ugliness by a poisonous thought.\nI have seen those who have looked upon her receive that thought and\nbecome likewise infected.\n\nI have seen also to this picture another and a brighter side. I have\nseen secret influences drawing individuals together, sustaining and\nupholding them; as the long line filaments of wool clasp each other\nand draw together the separate particles, so have I seen individuals\nunited. Thus was the first Napoleon united to Josephine. A secret\ninfluence as potent as the plague passed from one to the other; but it\nbreathed health and not poison.\n\nNapoleon, with his powerful will, disrupted these magnetic relations;\nhe tore apart the unseen filaments that bound them; and, the sustaining\ninfluence gone, he fell--a mighty wreck--on the bleak shore of St.\nHelena.\n\nWhat man or woman can comprehend the secret influences that surround\nthe soul. Keep guard; and when the blood stagnates within, when secret\nshudders, and gloomy thoughts, and inharmonious feelings arise, be sure\nthat some poison-breathing foe is at hand.\n\nSet the door ajar, and resolutely turn your face from the secret\ninfluence that would destroy you.\n\n\n\n\nCHARLOTTE BRONT\u00c9.\n\n(CURRER BELL.)\n\n_AGNES REEF.--A TALE_.\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nI was brought up and educated by my bachelor uncle. He was a reticent,\nmoody man, and with his aged housekeeper and myself, led a solitary and\nunsocial life in the old rambling house which had been his father\u2019s\nbefore him.\n\nI was but a child of six years when destiny placed me under his charge,\nand with him I remained eleven years; a scared, repressed little thing,\nrevelling in strange fancies in the spidery attic rooms, and looking\ndown through the dusty cobwebbed windows upon the life and movement\nbelow, unconscious that I formed a part of that active humanity.\n\nThus I lived until I entered my seventeenth year. For the last two\nyears my mind had been expanding and growing discontented with my lot.\nThe moroseness of my uncle, the sullenness of his housekeeper, the\ngloom and dinginess of the bare rooms had grown insupportable to me.\nThese alone I might have endured, but added to them were other sources\nof disquiet, not the least of which being hints from the housekeeper\nthat it was time I began to do something for myself. Youth, pride, and\nambition stirred within me, and I actively set about looking, for a\nsituation.\n\nI had not long to wait; in one of the weekly papers, of which my uncle\ntook many, I one day discovered an advertisement, which to my morbid\nfancy seemed sent by fate especially to me.\n\nA young lady was wanted to take charge of the education of a boy of\neleven years. Upon reading this advertisement, I immediately sat down\nand wrote a letter, offering my services.\n\nBy return mail I received a note acknowledging the receipt of mine,\nand stating that as I was the only applicant and my testimonials\nsatisfactory, I was accepted.\n\nI informed my uncle of my good fortune. He received the news with a\ngruff approval, adding that he hoped I would do well, as I could expect\nno further pecuniary aid from him than would be sufficient to carry me\nthere.\n\nMy emotions, as I packed my little trunk on that memorable Saturday,\nwere of a mixed character; but pleasure predominated. Hope beckoned me\non; and the sadness attendant on breaking loose from the unfriendly\nhome in which I had lived so long was but transitory.\n\nMonday morning saw me seated composedly in the rail-coach on the way\nto \u201cBristed Hall,\u201d my destination. Towards nightfall we stopped at a\nstation in a desolate, sparsely-inhabited district. My road diverging\nhere, I hurried out, and the long train which connected me with my past\nlife sped out of sight.\n\nDrawing my veil closely to my face to hide a few falling tears, I\nlooked around the desolate waiting-room, to see if any fellow-creature\nwas expecting me. As I did so a heavy, thumping footstep sounded upon\nthe platform, and a surly voice inquired:\n\n\u201cAre you Miss Reef?\u201d accompanying the question by a slight pull at my\nshawl.\n\nTurning, I beheld a deformed little man with long arms and a high back,\nawaiting my answer to his question. I summoned courage to ask:\n\n\u201cWere you sent for Miss Reef?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he replied, \u201cI am Mr. Bristed\u2019s man. He told me to drive here\nand fetch home a Miss Reef--if you are that person, miss!\u201d touching his\nhat with an effort at politeness.\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d I answered, and without further ado we proceeded to the\ncarriage, which he had left waiting at the rear platform.\n\nThe evening air was chilly, for it was quite sunset. Drawing my shawl\naround me, I ensconced myself in a corner of the vehicle, and watched\nthe fading landscape with stolid indifference to whatever might befall\nme.\n\nWe drove on thus for a good hour and a half, halting at length before a\ndark, massy object, the form of which my dozy eyes could not discern.\nHowever, it proved to be Bristed Hall.\n\nI emerged from the carriage and passed up the steps to an open door\nwhich, at the pausing of our carriage wheels, had been set ajar. An\nold woman, the feminine counterpart of my sulky driver, stood in the\ndimly-lighted passage-way to receive me. She vouchsafed me but a grum\nwelcome, but I felt already too desolate and weary to experience any\nfurther depression from her humor.\n\nBidding me follow her, and ordering the man to carry my luggage, she\nled me directly through the hall up the stairway to a chamber evidently\nprepared for my use. The apartment was prettily furnished, and its tidy\nappearance and the cheerful fire burning on the hearth quite roused my\ndrooping spirits.\n\nAfter assisting me to remove my bonnet and shawl, my conductress left\nme, returning ere long with a tray containing refreshments. These she\nset before me with silent hospitality; then bade me goodnight, saying\nshe would call me in the morning at eight o\u2019clock for breakfast.\n\nMy sleep that night was disturbed by dreams, which though vague filled\nme with terror.\n\nI imagined that I was walking through a long corridor, opening into a\nsumptuous apartment, its interior partly concealed by rich folds of\ndamask curtains. I lifted the heavy drapery and essayed to enter, but\na cold hand grasped mine and prevented me. A woman\u2019s figure, slight\nand youthful, with white face, great sad eyes, and long yellow hair,\nstood in the arched doorway and pressed me back with her clammy hand.\nI started up from my pillow in alarm to find myself alone; the pale\nmoonbeams streaming through the looped curtains of the window and\nglancing upon my forehead, I thought, probably accounted for the cold\nhand of my dream. I slept, and dreamed again. The scene was changed:\na field of stubble lay before me; through it I must make my way; the\nrough ground hurt my feet; I stumbled and fell; attempting to rise, I\nsaw painted in clear relief against the horizon the same female figure.\n\nHer pale, golden hair hung long and loose over her shoulders. As she\ncaught my eye she lifted her finger as if in warning, and disappeared\nfrom sight.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nFrom these dreams I awakened in the morning perplexed, disturbed, and\nunrefreshed. After dressing, I was summoned to breakfast by the person\nwho had received me the previous night. She led me down the stairway\nand through the hall into the breakfast room.\n\nIt was a long, narrow apartment, with wainscots and floor of polished\noak. A bright fire blazed upon the hearth. A small round stand was set\nforth, upon which was placed my solitary repast. I seated myself and\npartook, with a relish, of the nice cakes, fragrant coffee, and sweet\nclover butter.\n\nHaving finished my meal, I arose and walked to one of the deep-set\nwindows which lighted the apartment. Lifting the curtain, I looked out.\n\nA grassy lawn overhung with trees; clear gravel paths and well-trimmed\nshrubbery; beyond, rocks relieved by a patch of blue sky; a thin\nline of light, neutral tinted, winding through the distant meadows,\nindicating a streamlet; these constituted the landscape.\n\nHaving spent a full quarter of an hour in abstractedly gazing at this\nscene, I was called to reality by the opening of the room door, and a\nstrange voice repeating my name. The person presenting herself appeared\nto be an upper servant--a tall, thin woman, with dark hair sprinkled\nwith gray, and an amiable, weak face.\n\n\u201cIf you have finished your breakfast, Miss, I will show you to Mr.\nBristed\u2019s room.\u201d\n\nI assured her it was completed, and, following her. I crossed the hall\nand entered a door at the left. A pleasant odor of flowers met my\ngrateful senses. The room was spacious, wide and deep, and handsomely\ncarpeted. The walls were ornamented with paintings and engravings.\n\nAn ample arm-chair, which the owner had evidently just vacated, and\na table containing books and papers, gave a tone of both comfort and\nelegance to the room, which was decidedly congenial to my taste.\n\nTwo great glass doors, reflecting clearly the morning sunbeams, led\ninto a conservatory from whence issued the fragrance I perceived on\nentering.\n\nAmong the flowers moved a tall, manly figure. As I entered, the\ngentleman came forward.\n\n\u201cMiss Reef, Mr. Bristed,\u201d said my companion, by way of introduction.\n\nSo this was my employer. As he stood before me, I surveyed him; a\nwell-formed gentleman, above the ordinary height, with pale complexion,\nset off by dark, penetrative eyes; a shapely head covered with long,\nheavy masses of straight dark hair. The impression his appearance\nconveyed to me was that of a person benevolent but apathetic; unhappy\nwithout the will or power to shake off his burden.\n\nHe bade me be seated. \u201cYou are young,\u201d said he, reflectively. \u201cMay I\nask your age?\u201d\n\n\u201cSeventeen,\u201d I replied.\n\n\u201cVery young,\u201d he reiterated, thoughtfully shaking his head; \u201chowever,\nas you are here, if you wish to remain, Mary will introduce you to your\npupil.\u201d\n\n\u201cI certainly wish to remain,\u201d said I, impatiently; \u201cI have journeyed\nquite a distance for that purpose, and shall be happy to commence the\ninstruction of my pupil immediately.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said he. \u201cMary, take her to the nursery, and attend to any\nof her wants.\u201d\n\nThe girl opened a door adjoining that which we had entered by; a narrow\nhall and a flight of stairs led us to the room indicated.\n\nA little solitary figure, breathing upon the window-glass, and tracing\nthereon letters with long, thin fingers, was the first object that\npresented itself to my eye,\n\n\u201cHere is your governess, Herbert,\u201d said Mary.\n\nThe little boy turned and surveyed me with his large, blue, mournful\neyes. They sent a quiver through my frame from their strange\nresemblance to eyes I had seen but the night before in my dream.\n\nHe was apparently satisfied with his inspection, and his thin scarlet\nlips parted into a smile.\n\nI called him to me. He came forward timidly.\n\nTaking his small hand, I asked him a few questions about his studies.\nI found him intelligent, but grave beyond his years; very docile and\nobedient, and ere the end of the day we became excellent friends.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nI had lived six weeks at Bristed Hall, and, excepting on my first\narrival, had not interchanged a word with its master. \u2019Tis true I would\nsee him at times from the school-room window, walking through his park,\nor smoking upon the long piazza, but he might have been across the\nocean for all the intercourse we had together.\n\nIt was early June; roses bloomed on every hedge. A season of dry\nweather had succeeded the showers of spring, the mornings were\nsparkling, the air delicious. I arose early one particularly sunny\nmorn, that I might take a walk, before the studies of the day\ncommenced, to a natural lake which I had discovered about a mile from\nthe Hall.\n\nHerbert begged to accompany me, and I, who loved at times the quiet of\nmy own thoughts, reluctantly granted his request.\n\nWe strolled out of the inclosure, and were leisurely wending our way\nover the road, when our attention was attracted by the sound of wheels\nemerging from a cross path. A carriage rolled briskly in view. The\nlittle hand of my companion, which I held locked in mine, trembled\nviolently.\n\n\u201cOh, Miss Agnes, Miss Agnes!\u201d he cried, pointing to the occupant of the\ncarriage, \u201cthere is Uncle Richard.\u201d\n\nAs it neared us, the driver reined in his horses, which snorted\nimpatiently as he paused, and a musical voice called out:\n\n\u201cHallo! you young varlet; where are you going so early in the morning?\u201d\n\nHerbert answered faintly, \u201cI am going with Miss Reef to the lake.\u201d\n\nThe gentleman at this reply waved his jewelled hand gracefully toward\nme. \u201cMiss Reef, I am happy to make your acquaintance. So you are the\nyoung lady who has undertaken to be bored with my little nephew?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is not a bore,\u201d said I, smilingly, captivated by the grace and\nabandon of the traveller. And truly his handsome countenance might have\ncaptivated a girl more experienced in the world\u2019s ways than myself.\nHis was a gay, spirited face, complexion fair and rosy; full red lips,\ngraced with a curling moustache; golden locks fit for an Adonis; sunny,\ndancing eyes, and a figure rather massive, but well formed. Such was\nthe impression I received of this \u201cUncle Richard.\u201d\n\n\u201cAllow me to give you a seat in my brougham,\u201d said he.\n\nI thanked him, but refused.\n\n\u201cBound on some romantic expedition,\u201d he said, laughing; \u201cI can see\nit in your beaming eyes. Well, I suppose I must continue my solitary\ndrive; but don\u2019t tarry long at the dismal lake; hasten back, as I shall\nwant a companion to chat with in the empty Hall.\u201d\n\nI found Herbert unwilling to talk about his uncle, so I tried to\ndismiss the new comer from my thoughts, and engaged with my pupil\nin gathering wild flowers and grasses wherewith to form wreaths and\nbouquets to adorn our school-room. After rambling about for an hour, we\nturned homeward.\n\nI felt quite excited upon reaching the Hall, and hurried to my room to\nsmooth my hair preparatory to commencing the labors of the day. If I\nstood over my mirror longer than usual, remember I was young, and had\na laudable desire to please. As I surveyed myself in the glass, I was\nguilty of a pleasurable cognizance of the figure and face reflected\nthere. The walk and unexpected encounter had given an unwonted\nbrilliancy and vivacity to my countenance. My cheeks glowed; my eyes\nsparkled; and from my chestnut curls depended wild flowers, and wreaths\nof Herbert\u2019s twining; altogether a pleasing picture presented itself to\nview, which, without vanity, I was thankful to behold.\n\nWe had not been long at our lessons when a voice, gaily singing,\napproached the door, and without the ceremony of knocking, the\ngentleman whom we had passed in our morning ramble entered the room.\n\n\u201cI have been looking all over for you; why are you hiding yourself\naway up here?\u201d said he, merrily. \u201cCan you not take another pupil, Miss\nReef?\u201d at the same time drawing up his chair to the table at which\nHerbert and myself were seated.\n\n\u201cIf he is as tractable as Herbert, I might venture,\u201d I replied,\nassuming the gay, mocking tone of my questioner.\n\nI soon saw that he was bent on remaining; so, taking from my desk a\ndrawing-book and pencil, I placed them before him.\n\n\u201cThere is your task; please not to interrupt me.\u201d I was determined not\nto be beguiled from my duty by this gay cavalier. He permitted us to\npursue our studies uninterruptedly till he had finished his drawing.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d he exclaimed, placing it before me. \u201cWill you not reward me\nfor my industry?\u201d\n\nI looked at the sketch. It was bold and clear, shaded with a firm hand,\nspirited and original. I was truly surprised at the skill evinced.\n\nAfter that day he visited our room often, calling in during the morning\nto exchange a pleasant word, or at the close of the school hours to\nloiter over our drawings and chat of books and music. His visits began\nto grow too pleasant to me. Some effort must be made on my side to\nrender them less attractive.\n\nOne afternoon he entered as usual, and waited patiently till Herbert\nhad recited his closing lesson. Then he arose, and taking a guitar from\nits case, commenced playing and singing a song in a most bewitching\nmanner.\n\n\u201cCome, Miss Reef,\u201d said he, when he had finished, \u201cthat beautiful hand\nis just made to glide over this instrument. Allow me to give you a\nlesson.\u201d\n\nFeeling that if I permitted him to encroach upon my position as\ngoverness I would be lost, I refused. I must give him to understand\nthat I know my place and will not be trifled with, I thought; so\nI arose and rang the bell for Mary. She soon appeared, apparently\nsurprised at seeing Mr. Richard Bristed so much at home in the\nschool-room.\n\n\u201cMary, sit down; I wish you to hem this handkerchief for Herbert,\u201d said\nI.\n\nShe seated herself with my work-box before her, and commenced plying\nher needle industriously. The young gentleman looked on my arrangement\nwith a lurking smile for a few moments, and then uttering a long,\nlow whistle, arose from his chair and sauntered out. Passing me, he\nwhispered:\n\n\u201cI will remember you for this, Miss Reef.\u201d He did seem to remember it,\nas several days elapsed without his presenting himself.\n\nOnce I met him in the hall, and he merely bowed. If he had wished to\narouse in me an interest in himself, he could not have pursued a better\nplan; for I grew restless and uneasy, regretting heartily that I had\noffended him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nAfter three days had passed thus, I concluded I would explain to him my\nmotive. Accordingly, in the afternoon, when my hour of recreation came,\nI brushed my hair carefully, changed my dress, and descended to the\npiazza on which he generally lounged in the afternoon with a cigar.\n\nAs he was not there, I seated myself on a rustic chair to watch for\nhim. I had not sat many minutes when I heard the wheels of a carriage\non the gravel path; then the gay voice of Mr. Richard met my ear. I\nturned: he was seated in the vehicle with a valise beside him, and was\napparently bound on a journey. As he caught sight of me, he raised his\nhat, bowed distantly, and drove off.\n\nA dreary sense of loneliness crept over me. The setting sun filled the\nwest with its golden splendor. Great yellow bars of sunlight streamed\nthrough the railing, and lit up the floor of the piazza. Sitting there\nI was bathed in its ruddy flood. Happy birds poured forth their evening\nsong in the bushes near by; but I was miserable and alone. All nature\nseemed to rejoice, while I, her child, was desolate.\n\n\u201cYou appear sad, miss,\u201d said a voice close beside me. I looked up and\nbeheld the elder Mr. Bristed. He had evidently observed my emotion, and\nhis dark eye looked a reproof that his lips did not utter.\n\nPresently, he seated himself near me, and asked a few questions as to\nthe progress my pupil was making. Having satisfied him on those points,\nhe inquired kindly if I was lonely or discontented.\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d I answered, heartily, hoping to place a barrier to any\nfurther inquiries on that point.\n\n\u201cBut you have been weeping,\u201d said he, in a subdued voice.\n\n\u201cNot because I am lonely,\u201d said I, resolved to have the truth out; \u201cbut\nI fear I have wounded the feelings of your brother.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy brother!\u201d he repeated. \u201cAh! you have become acquainted with him?\nHe is bright and glittering like the sun; but be careful, my child, be\ncareful! Young birds should avoid the glittering steel of the fowler.\nBut youth will seek its own experience,\u201d he remarked, with a deep\nsigh. \u201cNo friendly warning will teach the young to beware of danger.\nBut consider me your friend, Miss Reef, and let me likewise be your\nmonitor.\u201d\n\nWithout waiting for my reply, he hastily left me and entered the house.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nFour weeks elapsed ere Richard\u2019s return. During his absence Mr. Bristed\nshowed his sympathy for my lonely situation by many little attentions;\nsending up to the school-room, now and then, choice fruit from his\nhot-house, or a bouquet of conservatory flowers, and, several times in\nthe early evening, he sent for me to read aloud to him.\n\nI found him to be a quiet, polished gentleman; and I grew to like\nhim, and to look for his tokens of kindness after my daily labors\nwith growing interest, and, if they came not, to feel disappointed\nand unhappy. He had travelled much and could talk well, and under the\ninfluence of a sympathetic listener, his countenance lit up with kindly\nemotion, and the sad lines of his face disappeared beneath a happy\nsmile.\n\nBut in the glowing midsummer his truant brother returned, and my\nnew-born interest vanished like snow before the harvest sun.\n\nAgain Mr. Richard exerted his varied powers to fascinate and amuse\nme. Again I listened, and struggled, as formerly, against his wiles,\nand finally bent a too willing ear to his soft words of praise and\nadmiration. With secret pleasure I reveled in his ardent language,\nhugging to my heart the belief that I was loved.\n\nHow that summer sped by on its golden wings! Time passed on, as in some\ndelicious opium dream! And when the short clays and long nights of the\nChristmas holidays set in, I found myself secretly engaged in marriage\nto Richard Bristed.\n\nOf our plans and attachment his brother was not at present to be\ninformed: this stern brother who shut himself up apart from his\nspecies, and who, Richard told me, was of too cold a nature to\nsympathize with love.\n\n\u201cHe will dismiss you, Agnes, if he hears of it,\u201d he said. \u201cWait till I\nhave settled up my affairs, and then he can do his worst.\u201d\n\nI believed this statement; I forgot all my former good impressions of\nMr. Bristed, and listened to the tales that were told me of how he\nhad wronged Richard. I learned to regard him as a robber, a hypocrite\nwhose statements could not be relied on; a false, dark, bad man. As for\nRichard, he seemed a king in comparison; a noble, magnanimous being,\nwhom some kind fairy had bestowed upon me.\n\nBut that cold, relentless Fate, which comes to tear off the painted\nwrappings of life, revealing the bare and ugly reality beneath, was\nfast pursuing me.\n\nAt the close of a cold, snowy day, I had retired early to my room, and\nhaving locked the door that I might be free from interruption, sat\ndown to look over the dainty articles of dress which I had been shyly\naccumulating for my approaching marriage.\n\nIt was but a scanty outfit, but to me it appeared munificent as that of\na princess. I could never weary of looking at these beautiful garments;\nI placed them in one light, and then in another; I folded and unfolded\nthem, and finally ended by trying them on, and admiring in the mirror\ntheir perfect adaptation to my face and figure. A long time must have\npassed in this way, when the hall clock struck the hour of midnight.\nAstonished at the lateness of the night, I threw down the laces and\nribbons which I was combining into some airy article of dress, and was\npreparing to remove my bridal attire, when I was amazed to hear a key\nturning in the lock of my door. Fear and surprise nailed me to the\nfloor. The door glided softly open and in stepped Mr. Richard Bristed!\nHe seemed surprised to see me thus.\n\n\u201cWhat! up and dressed?\u201d he exclaimed, in a loud whisper. \u201cO my beauty!\nmy wife! I have come to claim you to-night. You shall be mine. No power\non earth shall withhold us now!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow strangely you talk, Richard,\u201d said I. \u201cYou forget it is so late.\nWe cannot go to church at this hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, dearest, this is church! See, I have brought you this ring. We\nwill stand up before God and our own hearts, and I will marry you here.\nWe need no other witnesses than ourselves and this ring!\u201d\n\nThough my youthful heart was blinded by love and passion, I was not\nprepared for this. Excitement and the strangeness of the proposition\novercame me, and I broke forth into sobs.\n\nHe endeavored to soothe me, urging his request with a pleading force\nwhich I could scarcely withstand.\n\n\u201cI am not prepared, Richard,\u201d said I, drying my tears; \u201cthis is so\nsudden, so unlooked for, I must have time for thought.\u201d\n\nBut thought only revealed a gaping abyss, from which I must fly.\n\nHe continued to urge his plea; but seeing I would not yield, his\ncountenance changed. The sweet, seductive smile vanished. He grew white\nas the moonbeam, and, clenching his hand and setting his teeth, bent\nover me, whispering huskily:\n\n\u201cAgnes, I shall not step from this room to-night. I have the key. You\nhave promised to be mine. You shall keep that promise. To-night you\nshall keep that promise!\u201d\n\nIf he was pale, I became paler. A cold chill crept over me. But I took\nmy resolution, unyielding as death, not to grant his request.\n\nA chasm seemed to yawn before me. The loneliness and friendlessness of\nmy position were presented to my mind with terrific reality. A deadly\nswoon-like feeling ensued. To yield in this might seal my fate. I paced\nthe floor rapidly, praying for help.\n\nHelp came suddenly. As I passed the door of my wardrobe, I remembered\nthat the same key unlocked this and the door of my apartment. I drew it\nforth, and in the twinkling of an eye I was free.\n\nThe cool air from the outside passage, and the prospect of liberty,\ncooled my excited nerves, and revived me for the work I had to\naccomplish.\n\n\u201cRichard,\u201d said I, my hand upon the latch, \u201cyou or I must leave.\u201d\n\nHe made no reply, but violently rising from his chair, grasped\nsomething that lay near him, and tearing it to atoms, rushed by me\nwithout word or look, and reaching the stairs, hastened out of sight.\n\nMechanically I sat down, and with sad, straining eyes surveyed the\nwreck before me. My bridal wreath was shivered into fragments; its\nwhite petals, like fruit blossoms caught in an untimely blast,\nsprinkled the floor; my laces were in shreds like the riven mast of\nsome shipwrecked vessel.\n\nOf course there was no sleep for me that night. When worn out with\nthinking and weeping, I drew a large easy chair up to the door and sat\nthere as guard, listening, with the hope which moment after moment grew\nfainter, that he would return and whisper in my willing ear a sweet\ndemand for pardon, some word in extenuation for his unseemly conduct;\nbut he came not.\n\nToward daybreak, I was aroused from the lethargy into which I had\nfallen from sheer exhaustion by the sound of excited voices and hurried\nmovements in the room below. As these subsided and the gray morning\nbroke, I was startled by the sound of a horse\u2019s hoofs on the graveled\nwalk.\n\nA fearful foreboding possessed me; what could it mean? Somebody was\nriding away; who was it? Through the gate and down the avenue I heard\nthe galloping steed.\n\nI dragged my nerveless limbs to the window and peered forth. Clear\nagainst the horizon, now streaked with pale crimson rays of dawn,\nrising in bold relief I beheld the receding figure of Richard Bristed.\n\nHe was leaving me without word or sign. My head reeled; I grasped the\nwindow casement to steady myself, and sank insensible upon the floor.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nI must have remained in this condition some hours, for the sun was high\nin the heavens when I opened my eyes and became conscious. Where was I?\nNot in my own room, surely; the fragrance of exotics did not penetrate\nmy lattice; the simple honeysuckle that twined around my window\nbreathed forth a different perfume from this. My heart gave one glad\nleap. Oh, it is all a dream! I thought; Richard\u2019s galloping down the\nroad, and all the past night\u2019s misery is a dream! With this reflection\na happy tranquillity was stealing over me, when I heard a well-known\nvoice exclaim:\n\n\u201cLook, Mary, attend her; she has opened her eyes, thank God.\u201d\n\nIt was Mr. Bristed\u2019s voice, and as he spoke Mary approached me, and\nbending over, bathed my head with scented water. \u201cHope you feel better,\nMiss,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cHave I been ill, Mary? Where am I?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn master\u2019s library.\u201d\n\nSurely it was so. I was lying upon a divan near the conservatory. Alas,\nI was not dreaming! I sat up and looked drearily around, and as I did\nso Mr. Bristed drew near with a beautiful lily in his hand, which he\noffered to me. He inquired kindly after my health and looked pleased\nwhen I told him I felt quite strong. Indeed I did feel strong for the\nmoment, and arose determined to leave the room.\n\n\u201cSit still--where are you going?\u201d he asked anxiously.\n\n\u201cGoing to the school-room--going to see Herbert,\u201d I replied.\n\n\u201cHerbert,\u201d said he, and his countenance darkened; \u201cyou cannot see\nHerbert, he is ill.\u201d\n\nNot see Herbert, and he ill? What could be the matter? He was well but\nyesterday.\n\nMr. Bristed\u2019s strange manner, coupled with Richard\u2019s absence and the\nfearful events of the night, seemed likely to turn my brain.\n\nHe saw my startled look of inquiry, and said, \u201cBe quiet awhile; I have\nsomething of importance which I will communicate to you by-and-by, when\nyou are composed.\u201d\n\n\u201cMary,\u201d he ordered, \u201cring the bell for breakfast to be sent hither;\nmeanwhile, Miss Reef, while awaiting our coffee, if you will walk with\nme in the conservatory I will take pleasure in showing you my tropical\ncuriosities.\u201d\n\nI followed him languidly with wandering thoughts. Gradually, however, I\ngrew interested and listened with increased attention to his animated\ndescription of the homes and haunts of the wonders by which he was\nsurrounded. He had visited many climes, and gathered each strange\nflower and plant he had seen in its native clime. He became eloquent\nand genial as he described the strange habits and peculiarities of his\nfloral companions, which he seemed to regard as a species of humanity;\nto him they were not inanimate existences--creations--but objects\nendowed with soul and sensation.\n\nWhile we were thus conversing, Mary announced that breakfast was ready,\nand I reluctantly accompanied him to the library. He almost compelled\nme to eat, selecting for me dainty morsels to tempt my appetite.\n\nMr. Bristed evidently labored under some mental disquiet, which he\nevinced by undue efforts at cheerfulness.\n\nBreakfast being removed I sought to withdraw from the room, but he\nrequested me to remain, and dismissing Mary, seated himself in an easy\nchair next the ottoman on which I rested, and warming his hands over\nthe fire, his eyes bent upon the blaze, said, with an abruptness that\nwas natural to him:\n\n\u201cI am not accustomed to concern myself about strangers, Miss Reef, but\nin you I have felt a peculiar interest since the day we first met.\nYou will remember I warned you then that you were too young for the\nresponsibility which I foresaw awaited you. I feared at that time that\nRichard, on seeing so bright a flower, would endeavor to snatch it from\nits stem. My fears have been realized; you see I am acquainted with\nwhat has taken place, and now the hour has come when you and I must\npart.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no,\u201d cried I gaspingly, \u201cnot yet, not yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Reef,\u201d he demanded solemnly, \u201cwhy will you delay? I understand\nwhat you would say; you desire to see Richard again, but that can\nnever be; you have looked your last upon him in this life. I know his\nmagnetic influence over you; once again under that influence you are\nlost!\u201d\n\nI did not like what he said. He overstepped the bounds of courtesy, I\nthought. The warning which Richard had given me against him revived in\nforce and I recoiled from him, saying:\n\n\u201cSir, your brother is my friend; I can listen to nothing in his\ndisfavor.\u201d\n\nHe sighed, \u201cAh, Agnes, you are but a child. The sun just rising above\nyonder horizon must soon be darkened; I see the gathering cloud and\nwould warn you of the approaching storm. Why will you turn from me when\nI desire to help you?\u201d\n\nHis musical voice was so sympathetic that it moved me deeply; but I\nshook my head and answered passionately, \u201cI cannot trust you. You wrong\nhim, and would compel me to wrong him too.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d said he sadly, \u201cI had hoped to have saved you from further\nanguish, but perhaps it is best that you should know all. Come with me.\u201d\n\nHe opened the door and led me to a room on the opposite side of the\nhall. I knew it to be the room where Herbert slept.\n\n\u201cLet us go in,\u201d he whispered.\n\nWe entered softly: the apartment was darkened, but a dainty crib which\noccupied the centre of the floor could be dimly seen. As we stepped in,\nhis nurse, who was bending over the cot, moved with hushed footsteps\naway to give us room.\n\nThere he lay, my dear, sick lamb! I was so glad to be permitted to see\nhim. But the result of no ordinary sickness met my eye.\n\nGreat purple rings had settled around his closed eyelids, his lips\nwere blue, his sweet mouth partly opened, he seemed to breathe with\ndifficulty. I could not speak. Mr. Bristed turned down the coverlet\nfrom the little shoulders.\n\n\u201cLook, Miss Reef,\u201d said he hoarsely, his voice quivering with\nagitation, pointing to some hideous marks on the little sufferer\u2019s\nthroat--\u201cthose are _his_ finger marks.\u201d\n\nI sickened. What crime was this that he hinted at so strangely? But the\ninsinuation was too incredible. The thought that he was working on my\ncredulity exasperated me.\n\n\u201cIf you want me to leave your house, Mr. Bristed, command me and I will\ngo, but you cannot force me to believe this horrid inference.\u201d\n\nHe must have felt the disdain with which I spurned him, for he turned\nupon his heel and left the room.\n\nI then spoke to Herbert. At the sound of my voice he moved, and I\nseated myself by his side. Quietness seemed desirable, and I was not\ninclined to break it. Now and then I moistened his lips with a little\nwine and water. Seeing that I still sat by the crib, the nurse lay down\nupon a settee and fell asleep.\n\nHours thus passed. The days were short and twilight came on rapidly.\nSitting there in the gathering gloom, I began to hum inadvertently a\nlittle song which Herbert loved me to sing to him. Hearing my voice\nchant his favorite ditty, the poor little creature stirred in his crib,\nand his pale lips parted into a smile. Presently, in broken tones he\nasked, \u201cIs that Miss Reef?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Herbert, darling, I have come to sing to you,\u201d said I, mastering\nmy emotions and chirruping more loudly his beloved song.\n\nThe effect seemed truly magical--he endeavored to raise up his little\nbody. \u201cOh sing it again,\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cWould you like to sit upon my knee?\u201d\n\nHe nodded assent, and I made an effort to lift him up, but he was weak\nand heavy, and I not sufficiently strong to sustain him. As he fell\nback, my eyes caught sight again of those fearful marks. Some power\noutside of myself forced me to ask, \u201cHerbert, what ails your throat;\nhas any one hurt you?\u201d\n\nAt the question, a tremor fearful to witness passed through his frame,\nand looking at me with an expression of preternatural intelligence, he\nwhispered, \u201cHe tried to choke me.\u201d\n\nStunned with horror at this again repeated assertion, I sank down and\nburied my face in my hands. I could think but one thought, and that was\na wish that I were dead!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\nBut my nature would not permit me at such a crisis to remain passive\nlong. I must arouse myself and act. Calling the nurse to take my place,\nI went to seek Mr. Bristed. I found him, as usual, in his library.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said I, \u201cI am calm now; will you not explain to me this\nfrightful mystery? I will listen and thank you.\u201d\n\nHe placed a chair for me to be seated, and taking my hand, said\ngently:--\n\n\u201cMiss Reef--Agnes, you are too weak to hear this that you seek to know.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d I exclaimed, vehemently; \u201cI am not weak; I must know all.\u201d\n\nHe arose and paced the floor hurriedly for a few moments; then\nmuttering, \u201cIt is best--I will tell her,\u201d he said:\n\n\u201cYou have been surprised, no doubt, Agnes, at the frankness with which\nI have expressed my opinion of Richard\u2019s character--let me inform you\nthat he and I are not brothers. He is a half-brother, the offspring of\nmy father\u2019s second marriage; though indeed I doubt if he have a right\nto even that relationship. I have heard dark hints thrown out that my\nfather had been deceived, and that this child who claimed to be his son\nshould look in a lower quarter for his father. Richard\u2019s mother was\nnot a woman of high moral principle, and he partakes of her nature. My\nfather provided for him well, but as I was the elder son the bulk of\nhis large property became mine by inheritance; but Richard has always\nmade the Hall his home when in England--indeed, he has a legal right\nduring his lifetime to the use of the room he occupies. He has not,\nhowever, often availed himself of this right since I have had his son\nHerbert under my protection.\u201d\n\n\u201cHis son Herbert?\u201d I repeated, mechanically.\n\n\u201cYes, poor child, his son; though the boy has always been taught to\ncall him uncle. Neither Richard nor myself desire the relationship to\nbe known, and it is only in hope of serving you that I reveal it.\u201d\n\n\u201cRichard married?\u201d I said, falteringly.\n\n\u201cAh, Agnes, there are many women whom he should never have seen, as\nhe could not marry them,\u201d said he, with the slow determination of a\nman resolved on uttering a repulsive truth. Herbert\u2019s mother was a\nbeautiful but penniless orphan of good family, who visited this house\nsome years since in the capacity of companion to our great-aunt.\n\n\u201cDuring that visit I became enamoured with her, and we were secretly\nengaged in marriage. It was before the death of my father, and I was\nnot my own master; but I loved her truly, and meant well by her, only\ndesiring her to wait till I should be free to please myself. But\nRichard stepped in between me and my happiness. He stole this girl\u2019s\nheart from me; gained her love as he has endeavored to obtain yours,\nby flattery and dissimulation you see I am not wily and smooth enough\nto please women--but also he destroyed her peace under promise of\nmarriage; leaving her soon after and going abroad without acquainting\nher with his purpose.\n\n\u201cI was temporarily from home when this occurred. On returning in the\ncourse of a month, Richard fled, as I have stated; but I was ignorant\nthen of the cause, and it was not till in the agony of shame she came\nto me for help with her secret, that I became aware of his perfidy.\n\n\u201cI need not tell you that I gave her all the aid in my power; her\nchild Herbert was born and secretly cared for. When he was about two\nyears old, the great-aunt of whom I have spoken died, leaving a large\nproportion of her property to Alice, of whose misfortune she had never\ndreamed.\n\n\u201cWealth came to the unfortunate girl too late. The shock she had\nreceived from Richard\u2019s deceit had preyed upon her health, and she was\nfailing rapidly, when he, hearing of her good fortune, returned home.\n\n\u201cWith his specious address he might have regained his old ascendancy\nover her had I not interfered. You know well, Agnes, his peculiar gift\nof fascination. I believe he could by some unexplainable psychological\nprocess make any great wrong appear right to a woman. But I induced her\nto bequeath her wealth to Herbert, and secure it, for a time at least,\nbeyond Richard\u2019s control--and he owes me a grudge for it.\n\n\u201cHerbert, she left under my care, unless, of his own free will, he\nchose to reside with Richard, who in that case was to become his\nguardian; and in the event of Herbert\u2019s death before reaching his\nmajority, the whole property was to revert to Richard Bristed. You see\nshe loved him still. Unjust but womanlike, her love was stronger than\nher judgment.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, after eyeing me thoughtfully, \u201cyou listen as if you\ndid not rightly comprehend what I have been saying!\u201d\n\nI was indeed stunned by his communication. Could it be, I thought,\nwith suppressed fear, that the shadowy figure which had haunted my\nbed-chamber and had visited me in dreams was the same wronged Alice?\nHad she arisen from her grave beneath the granite of the church-yard\nto warn me? Or are the dead jealous of their rights? Do they cling to\ntheir earthly love? I queried. But when he spoke I shook off these\nthoughts that were rising like mist to obscure my judgment, and\nanswered, \u201c_I_ am. I am listening; proceed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgnes, through your influence Richard has hoped to obtain possession\nof Herbert and control over his fortune. He has thought to entrap you\nas he did Alice, and through his power over you has calculated to carry\nout the project of his prolific brain.\u201d\n\nTill this moment I had listened silently to his strange recital, but\nI could not brook this insinuation. The story, to my mind, did not\nappear clear. How could Richard expect to obtain, through my agency,\npossession of a son whom he had never acknowledged? Tis true I\nremembered him to have said that he feared I would miss my pupil very\nmuch. He had asked playfully what would Herbert do without me, but he\nhad not suggested taking the child away with us, and therefore Mr.\nBristed\u2019s charge appeared to my mind unfounded, and I told him so.\n\n\u201cAh, my child!\u201d he replied, \u201cyou know not the devising power of this\nman. He has an agent here in this place, in the shape of old Crisp, the\nhunchback. It has been his plan, under promise of marriage, to decoy\nyou from this house; he would probably have left his child to Crisp\u2019s\ngood agency, with orders to join you. Herbert loves you, and would\nhave gone willingly in your company, but alone with Richard he would\nnot have moved one step. Once out of my reach in some distant city,\nhe would have had the reins in his own hand. It was by an unexpected,\nbut I hope fortunate chance, that I overheard a conversation to this\neffect between him and the deformed servant. I could not ascertain the\nday set for this adventure, but I surmised that it was at no remote\ndate, and I have kept alert. You have avoided me, Miss Reef, and I have\nbeen obliged to watch your movements distantly. Not from suspicion of\nyou, for I know you to be pure and honorable, but because you are under\nmy protection, and because\u201d--he hesitated--I wondered what was coming\nnext. I had a presentiment that he was about to make an avowal which I\nought to shun, but before I could evade him he turned suddenly toward\nme, his face white with emotion, and continued--\u201cI love you, Agnes,\nthough it is no time now to speak of my passion, and have watched over\nyou as a father, a brother, a _lover_ would watch.\u201d\n\nThis announcement affected me more than I care to confess, considering\nI did not return his love, but it was the allusion to his sheltering\ncare that moved me.\n\n\u201cYes, I have watched over you; orphan that you are, you need some\nguardian care. I knew by your frequent journeys to the village, by your\ncloistering in your own apartment, and more than all, by your speaking\ncountenance, that you were preparing for some great event in your life.\n\n\u201cLast night I could not sleep; I laid my head upon my pillow, but\nfinding it impossible to close my eyes I arose and dressed. Sitting by\nmy window I thought I heard a commotion in your room. I listened until\nmy surmises grew into certainty. The hour was midnight, and your door,\nwhich at that season is usually closed like a cloister-gate, swung on\nits hinges.\n\n\u201cThis alarmed me; I unlocked my door and looked out. Soon a hasty step\nretreating from your chamber met my ear. Descending the stairs, this\nuntimely visitor entered the room where Herbert lay sleeping. A strange\nsuspicion came over me. Can the intruder be Richard? I thought. If so,\nwhat was he doing at that hour of the night? I seized a lighted candle\nand rushed to the boy\u2019s apartment, and there I found Richard, maddened,\nand beside himself with liquor and frenzy. I was just in time to save\nHerbert\u2019s life from his insane fury.\n\n\u201cI know not what had occurred between you and him, Agnes, but this I\nknow, he had failed in some diabolical plot he had contemplated. Chance\nor a friendly Providence had thwarted his purpose. I had him in my\npower, and compelled him to leave the house, not to return until you\nhave been removed where he will never find you.\n\n\u201cI cannot leave my beautiful bird, my pet dove, where the charms of\nthis wily serpent may ensnare her.\u201d\n\nHe ceased. My eyes were dry, my heart turned to stone. I arose, and\nmechanically moved toward the door.\n\n\u201cWhere are you going, Agnes? Tell me of your plans; regard me as your\nfriend, I beg.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake me away--take me away,\u201d I cried hysterically; \u201cI must go! Oh, oh,\noh!\u201d I should have fallen, but he caught me in his arms.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nOn reviving came the dread feeling that I must go. Go whither? I had\nno home. I could not return to my uncle who had cast me adrift. The\ninquisitive glance of his grim housekeeper would annihilate me. But go\nI must, and that speedily.\n\nWith weary head and aching heart I commenced packing my little\nwardrobe. My bridal attire I hastily covered from sight that it might\nremain until time and mildew should obliterate it. My dream of love was\npast. I felt that my youth and beauty were buried in that crushed pile\nof broken flowers, pale silk, and dishevelled lace.\n\nI had concluded my work, and was tying my bonnet-strings, when a knock\nat the door announced Mr. Bristed. He appeared surprised at seeing me\narranged for my journey.\n\n\u201cSo soon, Agnes?\u201d said he. \u201cYou are not yet able to leave.\u201d\n\nBut as I expressed very emphatically my ability and determination to\nstart immediately, he saw expostulation would be useless.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, \u201clet me hear where you contemplate going.\u201d\n\nI told him I should take the railway or coach to some point, I cared\nnot where; any distant city or village from whence I could advertise\nfor another situation. I was too hopeless then to care whither I went.\n\n\u201cAnd do you think I would permit you to leave me thus at random, going,\nyou know not where, without any preconceived plans? Oh my poor, poor\nchild, to be thrown thus upon the world!\u201d\n\nHe walked the floor several times, apparently in great agitation; then,\nsuddenly pausing, said abruptly, almost violently, \u201cIt must not be!\nAgnes, don\u2019t go,\u201d lowering his voice, and placing his hand gently on my\nshoulder; \u201cstay with me--become my wife. I love you and will cherish\nyou. No rude blast that my arm can shield you from shall assail you. My\nlife has been one of gloom, you can render it one of sunshine. Stay,\ndear one, oh, stay!\u201d and in his transport he seized my hands.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, Mr. Bristed?\u201d said I, recoiling from him. \u201cSurely,\nyou must forget yourself and the circumstances which have so recently\noccurred; you have accused me of loving your brother, how, then, can I\ntransfer my affections to you? Oh, you are cruel, cruel!\u201d\n\n\u201cForgive me,\u201d said he, penitently; \u201cI will do anything for you,\nAgnes--take you away, if you wish; only let me go with you and see that\nyou are properly cared for.\u201d\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\u201cRichard may seek to find you; you may fall again into his evil hands\nif you insist on going thus alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Bristed,\u201d said I, \u201cthus far I have acted as you directed. I will\ndepart at your solicitation; but further than this, I must be free. If\nRichard seeks me out, and I can aid him, I will do so. Degraded and\nfallen though he be, my love will not shrink from him. I will help him\nto rise.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a noble woman, Agnes,\u201d he said with a sad smile, \u201cGod protect\nyou!\u201d and he left me.\n\nAs he went out, I heard him order the carriage. The serving-man came\nfor my luggage, and I summoned courage to pay a farewell visit to\nHerbert.\n\nThe poor little invalid became very much excited at seeing me, and\nclung so tightly about my neck that it was with effort I could leave.\nI did not then inform him of my intended departure, and with an aching\nheart and forced smile I parted from the dear sufferer.\n\nI met Mary in the hall; she told me Mr. Bristed had ordered her to\naccompany me on my journey.\n\nI did not want her company, my mind craved solitude; I would not have\nher. I sought her master, and told him so. \u201cAt a time like this I must\nbe alone,\u201d said I, excitedly; \u201cI want no spy upon my actions. I will go\nwherever you wish me to go, but let me proceed alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, musingly, \u201cI desire but to serve you. Go to the town\nof M., present this letter according to its directions. You refuse my\nfurther aid, but if ever you need a friend, send for me; otherwise, I\nwill never trouble you.\u201d\n\nI answered that I would do as he requested, and with a heavy heart\nentered his carriage, which was waiting to drive me to the railway\nstation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nI will pass over my journey, and the lonely, miserable days which\nsucceeded my arrival in M. I made fruitless effort to obtain service,\nand waited and watched for an application in my dreary lodgings until\nmy small hoard of wages was nigh exhausted.\n\nI had been in the city a fortnight, broken in spirit and dejected\nby want of success, when I happened to bethink me of the letter Mr.\nBristed had given me.\n\nI took it from its undisturbed nook in my trunk, and having read the\nsuperscription, set about to find the party to whom it was addressed.\nThe direction led me to a large manufacturing establishment.\n\nThe gentleman to whom it was written appeared to be a foreigner. Having\npresented the epistle to him, he perused it hastily, then taking my\nhand with great eagerness, he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cO Mees! I am greatly honored. Mons. Bristeed is my very good friend;\nI well acquaint with him in Paris. I congratulate you on having one\nso grand a gentleman for your acquaintance. He tell me you look for a\nschool.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d said I, glad to find my tastes had been studied; \u201cI do\ndesire a school.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will assist with pleasure, Mees. Be seated; in a few moments I will\naccompany you.\u201d\n\nI sat down, wondering whither the gay, loquacious gentleman would lead\nme.\n\nHe soon rejoined me, hat in hand.\n\n\u201cWill you accept my escort, Mees; the place is near by,\u201d said he,\nreading the note. \u201cNo. 14 B----, street. Will you walk, or shall I call\na cab?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will walk,\u201d I answered, scarcely knowing what reply was expected. As\nwe turned the corner of the street I ventured to ask:\n\n\u201cIs it to some school you are guiding me?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, Mees,\u201d said he, rubbing his hands together and laughing, \u201cit is\nsome great secret. Mons. Bristeed would surprise you. Have a leetle\npatience, and all will be divulged.\u201d\n\nWe walked rapidly for a space and then paused before a handsome\nbuilding.\n\nEntering the courtyard, we rang the silver bell. A servant answered our\nsummons and invited us in. Seated in the drawing-room, I heard the buzz\nof many voices.\n\n\u201cIs it an academy?\u201d I whispered to Monsieur Pilot, my conductor. He\nsmiled encouragingly.\n\n\u201cThis is a young ladies\u2019 seminary, Mees.\u201d\n\nBefore I could question further, the room door opened, and a lady of\ntall, imposing figure entered.\n\nMonsieur Pilot commenced a vehement conversation with her in French.\nShe responded in the same tongue. The dialogue ended, he turned to me\nand said:\n\n\u201cMees Reef, permit me to introduce you to Madame Fontenelle.\u201d\n\nMadame smiled very graciously upon me, and then recommenced the\ngesticulation and babble of the two. At length she appeared satisfied\nwith the understanding at which they arrived. I was growing uneasy at\ntheir prolonged volubility, when Monsieur Pilot pirouetted up to me,\nand said:\n\n\u201cMees Reef, I beg to congratulate you. Madame consents to transfer\nthis mansion into your hands, She accepts our recommendation and that\nof your own intelligent countenance. Mons. Bristeed was not mistaken\nin the impression you would make. I wish you joy in having become the\nproprietress of this splendid institution.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow,\u201d I cried in astonishment; \u201cI proprietor? I do not understand.\nPlease explain.\u201d\n\nMadame looked blandly on; my remarks were evidently unintelligible to\nher.\n\n\u201cIt is a very onerous and responsible position,\nMademoiselle\u201d--shrugging her shoulders--\u201cI should not like to advise\nyou. Do you comprehend the extent of the undertaking? I should not be\nwilling to trust my pupils in timid hands.\u201d\n\nHer remarks stung me, and gave, I presume, the favorable turn to my\ndestiny, for I felt the power to undertake a task which I would before\nhave shrunk from.\n\n\u201cI will do my duty in all cases to the best of my ability, madame!\u201d was\nmy brief reply.\n\n\u201cAh, you do not comprehend, Madame,\u201d said Monsieur Pilot, coming\nbriskly to the rescue. \u201cThis is a surprise to Mees Reef. My very good\nfriend Monsieur Bristeed has not apprised the young lady of his bounty.\nI have his commission to purchase for her this establishment, which he\nis aware you desire to dispose of, Madame. His recommendation of the\nyoung lady is surely sufficient.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe whole establishment?\u201d I asked, with an effort at composure.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied Madame. \u201cI am obliged to start for the West Indies, and\nmust dispose of all. The present instructors are thoroughly competent\nfor their various positions; they merely need a supervisor. You appear\nyoung, but I presume experience has fitted you for the office.\u201d\n\n\u201cEminently so, eminently,\u201d answered Monsieur Pilot promptly, as if he\nhad been guardian of my reputation for years. \u201cWe will consider the\narrangements as complete, my clear Madame. I will call tomorrow and\nclose the transaction. _Bon jour_, Madame.\u201d\n\nAnd with rapid strides he hurried me away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nThe school became mine. By vigilance and perseverance, I not only\nretained the pupils Madame had transmitted to my care, but added many\nthereto.\n\nMonsieur Pilot, lively and friendly, visited me frequently. I liked the\nlittle Frenchman; his gaiety served to divert my mind from reflections\non the past, which like spectres would sometimes stalk grimly before me\nwhen unoccupied, I sought the quiet of my own chamber.\n\nWith my increasing success, my pupils\u2019 interest fully occupied every\nmoment of my time. Meantime, not a line or word reached me from Bristed\nHall. Upon my installment as proprietor of Madame\u2019s seminary, I had\nwritten to Mr. Bristed, thanking him for his kindness, and informing\nhim that I should take measures to repay the expenditures he had\nincurred in my behalf, by placing quarterly in the hands of Monsieur\nPilot a sum such as I could spare from my income, by means of which I\nhoped in time to repay my external indebtedness.\n\nThe only reply I received to this letter was a peremptory refusal, sent\nthrough Monsieur Pilot, to accept any return.\n\nI had been more than a year in my new home. Constant employment had\ndeveloped my mind, and I flattered myself on having acquired a wisdom\nand sedateness such as ten years of quiet experience could not have\ngiven me. But of this I was lamentably mistaken.\n\nOf my silly yielding to circumstances which follow, the reader must not\njudge too harshly. I was still but an immature woman, not yet twenty;\nthe glamour of youth still hung over me. I craved human love, and took\nthe first that presented itself, just as any other ardent, imaginative\ngirl in my place would have done.\n\nOne night late in autumn, when the sharp winds were already giving\nsignals of the coming winter, of leafless trees and frozen ground,\nfeeling the usual sadness which accompanies this season of the year,\nI walked out upon the piazza in front of the house, looking down upon\nthe street. I thought the keen air would put my blood in more active\ncirculation, and thus dispel from my mind the brown and yellow fancies\nthat filled it as the dying leaves of October strewed the ground.\n\nMy pupils had all retired to their rooms, and relieved of my charge,\nmy thoughts were free to recreate. I walked quickly back and forth,\ndrawing in long draughts of the invigorating air, and reviewing the\nmorning\u2019s duties. While thus engaged, my attention was arrested by the\nappearance of a tall man on the opposite side of the street, standing\nstill and watching me. As he caught my startled gaze he lifted his hat\nand bowed, and before I had time to reflect on his strange proceedings,\nhad crossed the street and was standing on the pavement below.\n\n\u201cAgnes!\u201d\n\nMy God, he called me by name! My blood became like ice. Shaking from\nhead to foot I covered my eyes with my hands, and would have run in,\nbut the whistling wind brought the cry again:\n\n\u201cAgnes! Let me speak with you.\u201d\n\nQuick as the words were uttered the dark figure mounted the stone\nsteps, only the little iron railing of the balcony dividing us.\n\nI knew then who it was.\n\n\u201cWill you open the door, or shall I?\u201d said a voice which I remembered\ntoo well.\n\nI saw no alternative, without disturbing the neighborhood and betraying\nmyself; so, like a criminal, I stepped softly to the hall and unlocked\nthe door. He came in with a light, free step, and seated himself upon a\ncouch with the ease of an old friend and accomplished gentleman. It was\nRichard Bristed!\n\nI will not detail what passed at this interview. But I fell again under\nhis fascination; his magnetic presence lulled my faculties, and, alas,\nI must relate that this nocturnal intrusion was followed quickly by\nothers!\n\nHe assumed his old ascendancy over me. The past became like an\nunpleasant dream in my mind, dimly remembered, but never distinctly\nrecalled.\n\nOccasionally, however, a sharp doubt obtruded itself, and roused me for\nan instant. One evening I ventured to ask:\n\n\u201cRichard, why are your visits so brief, and made only in the night?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d he repeated, as if startled by the suddenness of the question,\nthen adding carelessly: \u201cBecause you always have that deuced old\nfellow, Monsieur Pilot, running here. I am not very jealous, yet it\nwould torment me to meet one who dares raise his thoughts to my Agnes.\nHe wants to marry you. Do dismiss him!\u201d\n\nThis conjecture proved true, and I was obliged to give a cold rebuff to\nthe man who had befriended me. It is possible Richard Bristed did not\ncare to be recognized by his brother\u2019s agent, but I did not think of\nthis at that time.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nAfter this affair happened Richard visited me more openly, and my\npupils, when by chance they met him, were charmed with the stranger. He\nwas only known as \u201cMr. Richard.\u201d \u201cCall me that, Agnes, I hate the name\nof Bristed. Introduce me to your friends as Mr. Richard,\u201d he said, and\nI had done so.\n\nAbout this time he explained satisfactorily, to my credulous mind, the\ncause of his sudden retreat from Bristed Hall, and gave me reason to\nbelieve that the statements his brother had made concerning him were\nuntrue and evil in design.\n\n\u201cMy brother, as you have surely discovered, Agnes, is a cold, proud\nman, and as I was not his equal in wealth or position he selected an\nheiress, both old and disagreeable, whom he designed me to marry. Your\nyouth and beauty he intended to appropriate to himself. I feared if I\nmade him acquainted with my purpose to unite myself to you he would\nfrustrate all my wishes, and when I discovered that he knew of my\nplans, I determined to forestall him by making you my wife that very\nnight. I intended to have gone through the form of marriage, which the\nnext day could have been legalized, for I feared the influence of his\nwealth and position upon your unsophisticated mind.\n\n\u201cHowever, you refused to trust me, and I left your room maddened by\nanger and the fear of losing you.\n\n\u201cI met my brother in the hall-way; he said Herbert was ill, and I\naccused him of trying to injure the boy that he might defraud me.\nSharp words passed between us. I left him, and in blind haste mounted\nmy horse, thinking I would ride over to N., a distance of some twenty\nmiles, to get the clergyman of the parish, an intimate friend of mine,\nto drive with me to the Hall and perform the important ceremony.\n\n\u201cThe ride I accomplished in a few hours, but I found my friend absent\nfrom home. The excitement and disappointment, added to the severe cold\nto which I was exposed, broke me down, and I was taken suddenly ill.\nWhen I recovered, I returned to Bristed Hall only to find my priceless\nbird flown, and no clue to be had to her whereabouts.\n\n\u201cAs to the tale about Herbert, that is all a _ruse_; he is not my\nson, and only distantly connected with either of us. He is heir to a\nconsiderable estate, and Mr. Bristed is managing so that upon Herbert\u2019s\ndecease (and poor child, he cannot live long) the inheritance will fall\nto his lot.\u201d\n\nSuch was his version of the story, and as I loved him I believed it\nwillingly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nIn his gay society the winter passed quickly. With the opening spring\nhe departed--on business, as he said. I felt his loss, but as it was a\nbusy time with me it did not affect me as it otherwise would have done.\nMany changes were being made in my seminary. I was obliged to employ\nworkmen to add new dormitories to the great house, for pupils were\ncrowding in from every point.\n\nThe reputation of the school was growing; I was immersed in business.\nSome months elapsed; I ceased to hear from Richard, almost to think of\nhim, amid the activity of the spring term.\n\n\u201cCircumstances,\u201d some say, \u201care the Devil,\u201d and I almost believe\nthat saying. While employed I was happy, my mind well balanced and\nenergetic; but unfortunately for me, summer vacation drew near. It came\nfinally; a sultry sun, parched earth, and scorched verdure made life in\nthe city undesirable. My pupils fled to the country and to their homes\nuntil the fall session, and I was left alone. Even my servants were\nabsent, all save one.\n\nShut up in the empty mansion alone with my own thoughts, I was growing\nmorbidly lonesome.\n\nIt was at this unpropitious moment that Richard Bristed returned.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nHe arranged quiet strolls to the country--little excursions here and\nthere with himself as my sole companion--and many sweet happy days of\nunsullied pleasure I passed in his society.\n\nOne sultry morning, to my delight, he came in an open carriage, saying\nthat the atmosphere was so heated he would drive me out of town to a\ncharming little village with which he was familiar.\n\nThe prospect of such a jaunt was to me indeed agreeable; and as he\nliked to see me in becoming dress, I arrayed myself in white, placed\na fillet of pale blue ribbon round my hair and a bouquet of blue\nforget-me-nots in the bosom of my dress, and thus adorned set forth,\nsitting by Richard\u2019s side.\n\nI was as happy as a young queen; all the black suspicions which had\ndarkened my horizon were absorbed in the fierce heat of that summer\nmorning. His beauty, his fascinating smile, his lively conversation,\nfilled me with rapture.\n\nArrived at the village, we stopped at a small but pretty tavern and\nalighted. While I entered the dwelling Richard drove his horses under\nshelter. He soon joined me, looking much disconcerted.\n\n\u201cAgnes, my darling, what shall we do? We cannot ride back to-night; the\ncarriage is out of order, and I fear the horse is injured by the heat\nand rapid driving.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Richard, I must return home to-night!\u201d I answered decidedly.\n\n\u201cWell, I will see what can be done, but we will rest awhile and take\nsome refreshments.\u201d\n\nA delightful half hour passed while we were regaling ourselves with\ncountry fare and looking at the strange place from the window of the\nlittle inn. Then Richard proposed that we should walk out while waiting\nfor repairs to our vehicle. Together we strolled through the quiet\nlanes and open commons till we came upon a pretty, unpretending church,\nhalf hidden in ivy and creeping vines. The door stood open. \u201cCome,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201clet us go in.\u201d I followed him in. To my surprise I discovered\na clergyman in his robes at the altar. Richard whispered in my ear some\nwords which I could not understand and their import I could only guess\nat, but his tender manner brought the hot blood to my face.\n\n\u201cAgnes,\u201d he continued, speaking with quiet determination; \u201cyou must\nbe mine; everything is in readiness. We cannot return to-night; Fate\nordains it!\u201d\n\nIt did appear to me that Fate, as he said, ordained the events which\nfollowed that country drive. All the love and sentiment of my nature\nwas aroused; but reason told my intoxicated senses that I must not act\nwithout forethought, so I shook my head to his passionate urgency and\nendeavored to withdraw. But my companion pressed me gently back into an\nopen pew, and hastened past me up the aisle.\n\nA rapid conversation then took place between himself and the clergyman,\nwho, after casting his eyes in my direction, went to his desk and took\nup his prayer-book.\n\nRichard returned with quick steps to where I was sitting.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said he, smiling; \u201che is waiting.\u201d\n\nStartled and trembling, I made no answer save an effort to reach the\ndoor.\n\n\u201cFor heaven\u2019s sake, Agnes, do not make a scene! Recover your usual\ngood sense. Do you not see that it is best?\u201d whispered Richard, with\nearnestness almost fierce.\n\nAnd so hurried, flushed and doubting, overcome with heat and\nexcitement, I permitted myself to be led to the altar.\n\nThe ceremony soon ended. As the clerk shut his book and we turned to\ndepart, I could not realize that this abrupt, informal marriage was a\nreality. As I passed down the aisle, a white, fluttering, impalpable,\nand yet clearly-defined form arose from one of the empty seats, and\nunobstructed by carved wood or heavy upholstery, passed out through\nframe and plaster! The slight figure, the golden hair, I remembered too\nwell--it was that of the _ghost of Bristed Hall_!\n\nI clenched Richard\u2019s arm so that he muttered an oath, and said sharply,\n\u201cMy God, Agnes, what are you doing?\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you not see that figure? It passed straight through the wall,\u201d I\nwhispered in affright.\n\n\u201cMove on--none of your d--d nonsense, Agnes,\u201d said Richard, scowling;\nthen hastily adding, \u201cExcuse me, love, you confuse me. My happiness\nmakes me forget myself.\u201d\n\nMy mind surged with conflicting emotions. I felt a secret joy in the\nknowledge that I was united to the man I loved. This romantic, half\nrun-away match pleased the romance of my nature, and yet I was unable\nto resist the feeling that I had done wrong. A strange foreboding of\nevil intruded upon my joy.\n\nRichard that evening was gay almost to wildness. \u201cO Agnes! Agnes! we\nhave outwitted them, the fools! They thought they had conquered me, but\nyou are mine, and I have won!\u201d\n\nHe talked so disconnectedly, I thought he had taken too much wine.\nIndeed, to this he owned.\n\n\u201cI could drink flask after flask of it, I am so happy!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\nWe were happy that night and drove home in the cool of the morning.\n\nIt was arranged that our marriage should for the present be kept\nprivate, as Richard thought if it were known it might disorganize my\nschool.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nWe had been wedded but two weeks when one morning Richard asked me to\nshow him my deed of the property.\n\n\u201cHow strange,\u201d said he, as he looked it over. \u201cDo you know, Agnes,\nbefore I wedded you I might have married many a woman of wealth, but I\nwould not unite myself with a lady who would not honor me by giving me\nsole control of all her possessions.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Richard,\u201d answered I, laughing, \u201cyou can control mine if you\nlike. It matters little to me who holds the deed, so long as my\ndominion over the young ladies is not invaded.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is what I expected of your, loving nature, Agnes, and yet I\nsuppose you would hesitate to convey your property to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; why should I?\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cI will go with you to an attorney\nthis moment, if you desire it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, come, we shall see; get your bonnet,\u201d said he gaily.\n\nI tied on my bonnet, and accompanied him down the street into a little\ndingy office in a narrow thoroughfare.\n\nAt the door, laying his hand upon my shoulder, he said jokingly:\n\n\u201cAgnes, go back, I was only trying you; I wanted to see if you meant\nwhat you said.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I meant it, and I will not go back till it is done.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, you must have your own way, I see!\u201d and with a gay,\nexulting smile he led me into the office.\n\nI signed the paper giving to him the house and lands, and was glad when\nit was done, for I felt that it might atone for any suspicion or doubt\nof his goodness which had crossed my mind, for he had made me very\nhappy since our marriage.\n\nI returned to my school and its duties. In the interval between the\nrecitations, I had time to reflect. I had acted impulsively, and\nperhaps unfairly. What right had I to give away a property given to me\nfor an especial purpose?\n\nHad I done right? That was the question which annoyed me--the question\nwhich constantly thrust itself before me during the live-long day.\nMy sleep that night was disturbed. The form of the elder Mr. Bristed\nappeared in my dreams. He seemed to reproach me by his looks, and when\nI endeavored to speak to him, vanished from my sight.\n\nRichard had left me after my signing the paper. He told me he was\nobliged to leave town on business, and I had no one to council with. My\nown thoughts startled me; I became nervous, and finally quite ill.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nAt length, after two days of unrest and self-condemnation, I quieted\nmyself with the assurance that I would go to the Hall and see Mr.\nBristed; then also I could see dear Herbert, to whom my heart went\noften out with longing. His name was never mentioned between Richard\nand myself. I avoided the subject; a dread which I could not overcome\nforbade me to speak of it. But now a strange, irrepressible desire to\nsee the child filled my mind.\n\nYielding to this intense feeling, I arranged my affairs, and taking a\ncoach, set off early in the morning for the train which would convey\nme to Bristed Hall. To my astonishment I met Richard at the depot.\nOverwhelmed with surprise at the encounter, and ashamed to confess\nmy intended journey, I made some petty excuse for being there, and\nreturned home again. Richard handed me into the cab, but excused\nhimself from accompanying me as he had a friend awaiting him.\n\nThat day, after luncheon, taking me aside he informed me that a noble\nlord had placed in his charge a lad who was partially idiotic and sole\nheir to an immense estate; that it was necessary he should have at his\ndisposal a room in the upper part of the building in which he could\nkeep him from observation, as it had been discovered the sight of\nstrangers increased the boy\u2019s malady, and perfect seclusion would be\nthe only means of restoring him to reason.\n\nI immediately directed a servant to put in order one of the rooms in\na remote portion of the dwelling; this was done, and towards dusk\nRichard, who had left the house, returned in a handsome coach with the\npoor, helpless, deranged boy. From the window I saw them alight. A\nslight, tall figure, wrapped in a cloak, descended from the coach. This\nundoubtedly was the afflicted youth. He walked so feebly I should have\nhastened to his assistance, but Richard\u2019s command that I should not\npermit him to see strange faces withheld me.\n\nHowever, I stood in the partly opened door, hoping I should be called.\nAs the muffled figure passed me on the way up the staircase I vainly\nsought to catch a glimpse of the youth\u2019s face, but he turned neither to\nthe right nor left.\n\nRichard, however, saw me and shook his head, indicating with an angry,\nperemptory gesture, that I should withdraw.\n\nFor days I felt a strange curiosity about this youth, but as Richard\ngave my inquisitiveness no food, and conducted his attentions to his\ncharge in an orderly, business-like manner, I dismissed the subject\nfrom my mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\nNothing new transpired the remainder of those autumn days. November\nwas now close upon us. About this time I remarked a sudden falling\noff of my hitherto prosperous school. Determined to know the cause, I\ninquired of one of my assistants, in whom I confided, if she was aware\nof the cause of this decline. She hesitated to reply to my question,\nbut when pressed for her opinion she informed me that my pupils were\ndissatisfied with my relations with Mr. Richard, and also with his\nconduct respecting the youth who had been imprisoned on the upper\nfloor. They asserted they had heard groans proceeding from the room he\noccupied, and feared to remain in a house where mystery and secrecy\nwere rife.\n\nI was astonished and alarmed at this information. You, reader, will be\nsurprised to learn that I was at that time more ignorant of events that\ntranspired around me than my own pupils. But I was not of a suspicious\nnature, and happy in my new life of love, the few weeks that had\nelapsed since my marriage passed as in a delicious dream.\n\nBut now I was thoroughly aroused and ready to return to duty. I thanked\nthe teacher for her information and then dismissed her, as I wished to\nbe alone.\n\nWhen left to the quiet of my own thoughts I reflected how best to\nproceed in the matter. Richard was not at home, I could not question\nhim, and he had the key of his ward\u2019s room with him.\n\nI finally concluded I would go to the door of this private room and\nlisten if I could detect any unusual noise from within.\n\nWith trepidation I ascended the back staircase leading to the secluded\napartment.\n\nNear the door I paused against the alcove of the great window that\nlighted the hall, and looked out. The sky was dull and leaden; a scanty\nsnow was falling, and the wind, blowing furiously, drove it hither and\nyon. I stood for some moments looking out upon the gloomy prospect so\nin accordance with my state of mind. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of\nRichard crossing the street. I started when I saw him and was about\nto retreat, when a thought arrested me. Why should I hurry away? Was\nI afraid of Richard? Was he not the proper person to consult in my\ndilemma? I would let him know that I desired to enter the room!\n\nSo thinking, I approached the door and tried it. It was locked, but at\nthe sound of the turning knob a sad, dreary moan arose from within--a\ncry of mingled fear and weakness. The sound of that moaning voice\nseemed familiar to my ear. What could it mean?\n\nAs I stood thus in suspense, listening for further development of the\nmystery, I heard a step close beside me. I turned, and discovered\nRichard. His fair, handsome face scowled at me fiendishly; his\ncountenance seemed transformed; his eyes gleamed like those of a\npanther.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d said he, laying a heavy hand upon me and\nspeaking through his set teeth. \u201cGo down stairs!\u201d and he pushed me from\nhim violently.\n\nI suppose his physical power and angry mood awed me, for I forgot my\ndetermination to solve the mystery--forgot my own rights, and hurried\nprecipitately down the stairs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\nWith my mind filled with dreadful forebodings, I reached my own private\nchamber, entered it, and bolted the door, that I might consider,\nundisturbed, the best course of action to pursue under these fearful\nsuspicions that haunted me. Hour after hour passed as I sat thus\nabsorbed in thought which seemed to turn my very hair gray from its\nintensity.\n\nI heard Richard descend the stairs and go out into the street. Not\nlong; after this the door-bell rang violently and the servant knocked\nat my door to say that a gentleman in the drawing-room wished to see\nme. Smoothing my hair and arranging my toilet, I obeyed the summons,\nbut started back on discovering the stranger to be no other than Mr.\nBristed. He pressed my hands and said:\n\n\u201cAgnes, can I converse with you in private here a few moments?\u201d\n\nMy first surprise over, I answered, \u201cCome with me; we will not be\ndisturbed here.\u201d Withdrawing to a small room adjoining, he drew forward\nan ottoman and seating himself beside me, said:\n\n\u201cAgnes, Herbert is missing; can you tell me where I can find him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHerbert missing!\u201d said I with a shudder.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he, \u201cI have heard, Agnes, that a gentleman visits you whom\nI surmise to be my brother, and, if so, I thought perhaps you would\nknow through him of Herbert\u2019s place of hiding.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas Herbert left you?\u201d said I. \u201cTell me--what do you mean, Mr.\nBristed?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he; \u201csome few weeks since, I left the Hall to visit an old\nfriend. I expected to be absent a fortnight. While I was gone Herbert\ndisappeared, the servants knew not how nor where. At first, hoping\nto discover that he had strayed off of his own accord and would soon\nbe found, they searched the country in every direction, but in vain.\nThey were at last obliged to send me word of his disappearance. You\ncan imagine my sensations on arriving at the Hall and finding the dear\nchild\u2019s room vacant. I made inquiries in every quarter, sent couriers\nout in all parts of the neighboring country, but no trace of him could\nbe found.\n\n\u201cI at length thought of you, that you might have seen or heard of my\nbrother. He is the one person likely to be concerned in the singular\ndisappearance of Herbert.\u201d\n\nI trembled from head to foot. What could I say? Evidently he was not\naware of my marriage with his brother. How should I act? Richard might\ncome in at any moment and discover himself. I recollected him to have\nincidentally mentioned that the following day he had an engagement at\nthe race-course with a friend; I therefore said hurriedly:\n\n\u201cMr. Bristed, I have seen Richard recently, but tonight can tell you\nnothing further. If you will call to-morrow morning at eleven, I will\ntell you all I know.\u201d\n\nHe seized my hand, exclaiming, \u201cTell me to-night, Agnes, and set my\nmind at ease.\u201d\n\nMy head seemed on fire--I groaned audibly.\n\n\u201cI can tell you nothing of a certainty. It is all surmise, and my brain\nis distracted to-night. Give me till to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will, Agnes; I feel that I can confide in you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow go,\u201d I replied. \u201cMy position is such that your presence here will\nonly destroy the purpose of your visit.\u201d\n\nHe clasped my hand in his and left me.\n\nThe next morning before leaving for the racecourse, while adjusting his\nneck-tie, Richard said:\n\n\u201cI fear we shall lose our imbecile pupil up-stairs, Ag. I brought a\ndoctor in to see him last night, and he says he cannot live long.\u201d\n\nI could not see his face, for he looked persistently away.\n\n\u201cIf he is ill, I must see him, Richard,\u201d I managed to reply.\n\n\u201cOh, no!\u201d said he; \u201cI thought you were foolishly scared to hear him\ngroan yesterday, but if he does not get better I will send him home to\nhis friends.\u201d This he said carelessly, as he walked out of the room\nhumming a lively air.\n\nHow coolly he talks about the lad! thought I, half ashamed of my\nsuspicions. Perhaps I have wronged him. I have been too impetuous in my\nsurmises.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\nThe time drew near for his brother\u2019s arrival. He was prompt to the hour.\n\n\u201cWell, Agnes,\u201d said he, \u201cI have passed a sleepless night. I hope you\nwill relieve my mind of its anxiety.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Bristed,\u201d said I, covering my eyes with my hand, for I could not\nendure his eager gaze, \u201cI must first tell you I am married to your\nbrother Richard.\u201d\n\n\u201cMarried to Richard!\u201d he exclaimed, starting up violently agitated; and\nseizing my shoulder with nervous gripe he set me off from him at arm\u2019s\nlength--\u201cYou married to Richard! why, Agnes, that cannot be; has he not\na wife now living in France? But be calm, child,\u201d said he, \u201cbe calm,\u201d\npatting me gently on the head; \u201cperhaps I am misinformed; we will talk\nof this hereafter. Now about Herbert. Tell me what you know.\u201d\n\nThis question recalled me. I then informed him of the idiotic pupil\nwho had been received in the house about a fortnight since, and how my\nsuspicions as to his identity had been aroused the day previous.\n\nHe could scarcely wait till I had finished my account. \u201cCome, quick!\ncome! show me the way to the room!\u201d\n\nI led him up the stairs in the direction of the suspected chamber. As\nwe neared the door a low moan could be heard distinctly.\n\n\u201cO my God, it is Herbert!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cQuick, where is the key?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no key--you must pry the lock open.\u201d No sooner said than\ndone--he burst open the door and entered. I followed. Alas! our\nsurmises proved too true! There upon the couch lay the wasted form of\npoor Herbert.\n\nAs he recognized us his wan face lighted up with an angelic smile, and\nhe endeavored to raise himself at our coming, but he was too weak, and\nhis head sank nerveless back upon the pillow.\n\nSilently and hushed, as in the chamber of death, we stepped to his\nbedside. He held out his thin hand to his uncle, who clasped it between\nhis own, and, kneeling by his couch, bowed his head and sobbed aloud.\nHis first moments of bitter grief subsiding, he said to me, \u201cSend for\nsome wine.\u201d Then, stroking the child\u2019s fair forehead, he groaned, \u201cO\nHerbert, Herbert, have I found you at last, sick and alone!\u201d\n\nHerbert attempted to reply, but his voice was weak and faint; we could\nnot distinguish his words. A servant brought the wine, and I moistened\nhis colorless lips with it. How I felt, it is useless to describe.\nWords would fail to express my terror.\n\nThe rich, warm juice of the grape and the application of stimulants\nseemed to restore him to life. His first effort on recovering was to\ncall me by name. I answered by bending over him and bathing his pale\nforehead. At this he smiled, pleased and happy.\n\n\u201cNow, Herbert, my poor boy,\u201d said Mr. Bristed, \u201cif it will not fatigue\nyou too much to talk, tell us how you came here. Who brought you? Why\ndid you leave Bristed Hall?\u201d\n\n\u201cUncle Richard brought me,\u201d said he, heaving a melancholy sigh. \u201cHe\ncame after you had gone, uncle, and told me that Agnes Reef was sick\nand going to die, and wanted to see me and you, and that if you were\nhome you would let me go, because you loved her; and I thought so too.\nHe gave me this ring which Agnes sent so I would know it was her.\u201d And,\nsaying this, he held up a thin, transparent hand, and there, indeed,\nupon it gleamed one of my rings, so loose that the wasted fingers could\nscarce retain it.\n\n\u201cMy ring! So Richard gave you that,\u201d said I, with scorn I could not\nconceal, even in the sick chamber.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he murmured, \u201cand he told me he would bring me straight back\nbefore uncle got home, and he brought me here into this room, but Agnes\nwas not here. I could not find her. Then he locked the door and would\nnot let me out, and I have been hungry and cold. And when I cried, he\nwould kick me, and that made me sick, I think. Do take me home, uncle,\nbefore he comes, and I will never go away again!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\n\nDuring this recital Mr. Bristed and I exchanged glances of horror. We\ncould not speak. When it was finished, he said:\n\n\u201cAgnes, order the coach. I must take him away from this place.\u201d\n\nI felt that the boy was too feeble to move, but I dared not suggest it.\nI too wanted him removed from the baneful influences of the house. We\nproposed to carry him down on the pallet, and thus convey him to the\ncarriage. One hour or more elapsed before everything was in readiness.\nWhile we were moving him Richard appeared, unannounced. A wild,\nunearthly scream from Herbert first gave notice of his arrival.\n\n\u201cO uncle! Miss Reef! save me! He will beat me to death!\u201d\n\nHis uncle endeavored to calm him with his assurance of protection, and,\nturning to Richard, in a voice husky with emotion said:\n\n\u201cLook, this, is your work! If there is a God ruling the universe, your\npunishment, though tardy, must be sure.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see nothing strange about it,\u201d said Richard, with an assumption of\nindifference which made his handsome face look to me at that moment\nlike that of a Judas. \u201cIf he is my child, as you say, why should he not\nbe here? Who has a better right to him than I? The little imp professes\nto dislike me, but that is some of your teaching, and I will soon cure\nhim of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou cannot have him, Richard. He must go with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know my rights, and I will use them,\u201d he replied, excitedly.\n\u201cMove that boy at your peril;\u201d and he clapped his hand upon his\nsilver-mounted pocket-pistol. He had evidently been drinking. His day\nat the race-course had maddened him. He was in a dangerous mood to\noppose. This Mr. Bristed evidently saw, as I did, for he beckoned me\nto go out for assistance. As I was moving toward the door for that\npurpose, Richard\u2019s eye lit upon me.\n\n\u201cAh, ha!\u201d shouted he, coming toward me. \u201cSo you are the one who\nhas been prying into my affairs. It is you I must thank for this\ninterference. Out of this room directly! Get you gone!\u201d\n\nI should have obeyed, but a sound from Herbert\u2019s bed arrested me--a\nsound that awed me more than the angry voice of Richard! I hurried to\nthe bedside. Mr. Bristed was there before me. I looked at the sinking\nboy. A stronger hand than his father\u2019s grasped him now. _That_ hand was\n_Death\u2019s_!\n\nNo need now to remove the little sufferer from his couch to the\ncarriage in waiting. He would be borne soon by the white-robed angels\nfrom the reach of us all!\n\nEven Richard, whose cruel grasp he had eluded, seemed awed as the\nlittle spirit burst from its tenement, and a transcendent smile settled\non the thin, waxen face, and the white hands folded themselves across\nthe breast with an air of unutterable peace.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\n\nEarly the next morning Mr. Bristed accompanied the lifeless body of\nlittle Herbert to Bristed Hall. He begged me to go with him, but I\nrefused his solicitations. I had other duties before me, which I must\nperform. I should have been glad to have rid myself from every one, but\nthat could not be. Richard did not return, and I was alone; the days\ndragged heavily away. I felt that I stood on the brink of a yawning\nchasm from which I could turn neither to the right nor the left. The\nthought of remaining with Richard was abhorrent, and the prospect of\nleaving him and commencing life anew was also a dreadful alternative.\n\nWhat shall I do?--I reflected, as I went my weary way through the\nclasses. Richard solved that question for me when he returned after an\nabsence of three days.\n\nMy pupils had just retired when a message came that he had returned and\ndesired to see me in the library. With a heavy heart I went to meet\nhim. He was not alone. A tall, passionate-looking woman, with dark hair\nand restless eyes, sat beside him. She was richly appareled, and gazed\nat me with a haughty stare as I entered.\n\nRichard nodded to me a bare recognition and said, \u201cI have sent for\nyou, as I wish you to inform your pupils that they must leave in the\nmorning. I have other uses for this building.\u201d\n\nAt this cool announcement I staggered. Good God! would he undo me? What\nplan had he now in view? \u201cRemove my pupils!\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cYes; do I not speak clearly? And as you have been plotting and\nscheming for some time against me, I would advise you to leave, also.\nBristed Hall,\u201d said he sneeringly, \u201cis likely to prove an agreeable\nshelter to you.\u201d\n\n\u201c_I_ leave!\u201d said I, now fairly awake to the danger. \u201cWhat do you mean,\nsir?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean,\u201d he replied with diabolical blandness, \u201cthat this lady is my\nwife, and will from this time take charge of this establishment.\u201d\n\n\u201cRichard Bristed, you cannot, dare not make that assertion! I am your\nwife, though I acknowledge it with shame and sorrow. He has misled you,\nmadam,\u201d said I, turning to the lady. \u201cYou are mistaken if you suppose I\nshall abandon my rights.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa, ha!\u201d he laughed, \u201c_she_ knows all about you. You cannot enlighten\nher, so you had better hasten and pack your trunks.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not leave, sir; I shall defend my position here. I am a woman,\nand you shall not sully my fair name,\u201d said I, maddened by his manner.\n\u201cYour brother will help me--the law will aid me. Here I remain!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will?\u201d said he; \u201cwe will see. This house is mine,\u201d and he drew out\nhis pistol with which to frighten me.\n\n\u201cRichard,\u201d said I, hoping to restore him to calmness, \u201cput up that\npistol. You cannot, dare not use it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDare not!\u201d he exclaimed, coming up to me, his hot breath smelling of\nwine; \u201cI will show you if I dare not!\u201d\n\nI was alarmed as he suddenly cocked the weapon. What might he not do in\nhis drunken excitement?\n\n\u201cShe is a coward, Dick,\u201d said the lady. \u201cDon\u2019t trouble yourself about\nher,\u201d and then turning to me and stamping her foot, \u201cHow dare you say\nyou are his wife!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cGo out from here!\u201d\n\nI shook from head to foot, but did not leave.\n\n\u201cCome, Dick, give me the pistol,\u201d said the lady; \u201cYou don\u2019t know what\nyou might do with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t meddle with me,\u201d said he, as she attempted to wrest it from his\ngrasp. \u201cWhy does that girl stand glowering at me?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Richard,\u201d I sobbed, \u201cmy heart is ready to burst! Don\u2019t act so;\nremember Herbert!\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember Herbert!\u201d he muttered; \u201cI do remember him. You killed him\nwith your pranks, and now you would accuse me. Go, leave my house, or I\nwill compel you.\u201d\n\nI believe he would have fired upon me at that moment, but the lady\nsprang forward and caught his arm. A slight struggle ensued, then\nfollowed a sharp report, and the pistol fell to the ground; a fearful\nshriek rent the air, and Richard fell heavily to the floor, covered\nwith blood. I rushed to help him. He raised his glassy eyes to mine,\nand faintly murmuring \u201cMy God! I am lost!\u201d expired.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n\nThe shock was too much for me. I was seized with fearful dizziness.\nThe objects in the room became black before my eyes, and I fell to the\nfloor beside the bleeding corpse, insensible.\n\nConvulsions, I was afterwards told, followed this swoon. A raging fever\nattacked me, and for weeks my life was despaired of. At length the\ncrisis passed; my youthful constitution conquered the disease, and I\nwas again restored to the world in which I had experienced so much joy\nand so much misery.\n\nOne morning the delicious feeling of returning consciousness revived\nme. Where was I? The room looked familiar, yet strange. Surely I had\nseen that silken coverlet before! The carved footboard of the bed on\nwhich I was lying was not new to my sight. My weak brain was busy with\nconjectures, when a woman approached, carrying a glass and spoon. It\nwas Mary, the housekeeper of Bristed Hall.\n\n\u201cWhy, Mary, are you here?\u201d I asked in surprise.\n\n\u201cYes, Miss, but you must not talk. Take these drops. I am heartily glad\nyou are better, Miss.\u201d\n\nA sense of rest and peace stole over me, followed by a few hours of\nnatural sleep.\n\nOn opening my eyes from this refreshing slumber, I found Mary still\nsitting near me.\n\n\u201cMary,\u201d said I, \u201cyou must tell me where I am; everything here looks so\nnatural, and yet as if I were in a dream.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are not dreaming, Miss. You are in your own chamber in Bristed\nHall.\u201d\n\nBristed Hall! A warm gush of gratitude pervaded my being. So I was not\nfriendless! I was cared for.\n\n\u201cWhere is Mr. Bristed?\u201d I asked after a pause.\n\n\u201cWe have persuaded him to drive out, miss, as the doctor said you were\nout of danger. Anxiety for you and grief for Herbert\u2019s death have quite\ntaken his strength away.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must get up, Mary. You must help me to dress.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no, miss!\u201d she replied; \u201cyou are not strong enough yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am quite strong. Besides, it will revive me; I am weary of the bed,\nand need a change.\u201d\n\nShe acquiesced in my wish, dressed me neatly, and smoothed my hair.\n\n\u201cNow, take me down,\u201d I requested. \u201cI wish to surprise Mr. Bristed.\u201d\n\nOf course she remonstrated, said I would bring on the fever again, and\nall that; but as I persisted in my determination, she led me down the\nstairs. The fresh air invigorated me; I felt every minute increased\npower. At my request, she took me to Mr. Bristed\u2019s conservatory. The\nbright flowers, the singing birds in their ornamented cages, and the\nadjoining study with its well-filled shelves, all reminded me of the\npast. Tears came to my eyes as I recalled the bitter changes I had seen\nsince leaving that sunny home!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\n\nI had not been long in the conservatory when I heard the wheels of a\ncarriage. Mr. Bristed had returned. He ascended the steps: I heard his\nvoice in the hall. His first words were an inquiry after my welfare.\nHe was told that I was better. Passing through his apartments, he\nentered the study. I could see him plainly from the windows of the\nconservatory. He looked, I thought, thin and sad; his hair had become\nsprinkled with gray since the time when I resided in his mansion.\nTurning to Mary, who was waiting there for me, he said: \u201cI feel faint;\nbring me a cup of tea.\u201d\n\nMary left the room on her mission, and I stole from my hiding place.\n\n\u201cMr. Bristed,\u201d whispered I, coming softly up behind his chair.\n\nHe started. \u201cWhose voice is that? Agnes, where are you?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere, sir,\u201d I answered, as I touched him lightly.\n\nHe turned toward me, his face flushed with pleasure, his eyes expectant.\n\n\u201cYou, Agnes--you, verily? How came you here? I thought you were ill off\nyour pillow. What pleasant trick is this you have been playing me?\u201d\nThen taking both my hands in his and surveying me, his eyes the while\nbeaming with soft pleasure, he said:\n\n\u201cOh, I am so happy that you are better. But you are wrong to come here;\nyou will make yourself ill again.\u201d\n\nI told him how I had awakened, and of my glad surprise in finding\nmyself in my old chamber again, and how I had insisted on coming down\nto thank him for his kindness in bringing me hither.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t thank me, Agnes; for you I could do anything. This place shall\nalways be your home. Some day, Agnes, you may learn to appreciate the\nworth of a heart that truly loves you.\u201d\n\nI fell upon my knees before him. \u201cO Mr. Bristed, I do appreciate!\u201d I\ncried. \u201cI do know that you love me. Let me live for you. Let me by a\nlife of devotion atone for the mistakes of the past!\u201d\n\nHe lifted me up, and folded me to his breast.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\n\nA few weeks of balmy spring air and soft sunshine completely restored\nme to health.\n\nOne day when strolling in company with Mr. Bristed through a path\nblooming with early hyacinths and crocuses, I ventured to ask him about\nmy school.\n\n\u201cIt is entirely broken up, Agnes. After the fearful tragedy that\ntranspired within its walls, your pupils scattered like dust in\nthe wind. I arrived the next morning after the death of Richard,\nunconscious of what had occurred in my absence, but intending to take\nyou home with me. I found you, as I then thought, on your death-bed. I\nsettled with your separate teachers, and closed the school. With the\nFrench woman who claimed to be Richard\u2019s wife, and with whom he had\nprobably gone through the form of marriage, as with you, I made an\narrangement satisfactory to her to sell the property and give her an\nequivalent for its value.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what motive,\u201d I asked hesitatingly, \u201ccould Richard have had for\nhis course?\u201d\n\n\u201cMotive? The same that had actuated him through life. With you, Agnes,\nhe would have lived probably as he did with others, until his versatile\nheart demanded a change. Then, with your little estate in his hands and\nHerbert\u2019s property in his power, he would have deserted you for some\nnew beauty.\n\n\u201cBut let the grave cover his mistakes and evils. I believe that a\ngood God will not punish him too severely for propensities which he\ninherited.\u201d\n\nOnce more I yielded to the charms of companionship and love. Severe\ntrials had proved Mr. Bristed\u2019s worth, and when he again asked me to\nmake the remnant of his life happy by my care and love--to become his\nwife, and share his home, and reign queen of his heart--I consented.\nWhen the June roses blossomed, we were married. The balmy air and\nopening buds spoke of a new life. They typified my new life, truly. The\nglitter and gloss which had deceived me in youth would never beguile me\nmore. I had learned that it was not the external man, but the internal\nthat was worthy of love.\n\nThe shadowy form of Alice never troubled me again, I believe reparation\ncan be made beyond the tomb, and that in some far-off world the\nnew-born spirit of Richard atones to Alice and Herbert for the wrong he\ndid them in this.\n\n\n\n\nELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING\n\n_TO HER HUSBAND_.\n\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nYou cannot see her in her glad surprise,\nKissing the tear-drops from your weeping eyes;\nMoving about you through the ambient air,\nSmoothing the whitening ripples of your hair.\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nYou cannot see the flowers she daily twines\nIn garlands for you, from immortal vines;\nThe danger she averts you never know;\nFor her sweet care you only tears bestow.\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nVainly you\u2019ll wait until the last trump sound!\nVainly your love entombed beneath the ground!\nVainly in kirk-yard raise your mournful wail!\nYour loved is living in some sunnier vale.\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nYou think her gone to her eternal rest,\nLike some strange bird forever left her nest!\nHer sweet voice hush\u2019d within the silent grave,\nWhile o\u2019er her dust the weeping willows wave.\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nAnd yet she lives, and loves! Oh, wondrous truth!\nIn golden skies she breathes immortal youth!\nLook upward! where the roseate sunset beams,\nHer airy form amid the brightness gleams!\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nOh, speak not thus! her tender heart you grieve,\nAnd \u2019twixt her love and yours a barrier weave!\nCall her by sweetest name, your voice she\u2019ll hear,\nAnd through the darkness like a star appear.\n\n      Dead! dead! You call her dead!\nLift up your eyes! she is no longer dead!\nIn your lone path the unseen angels tread!\nAnd when your weary night of earth shall close,\nShe\u2019ll lead you where eternal summer blows.\n\n\n\n\nARTEMUS WARD.\n\n_AND OUT OF PURGATORY._\n\nARTEMUS WARD\u2019S LECTURES TO POOR, PERISHING HUMANITY.\n\nLECTER I.\n\n\nYou\u2019ll remember, relatives and nabors, how I crost the Atlantic Ocean\nand never agin set foot on my native soil. I naterally thought my\nopportunities there, in the British Mooseum and with those Egyptian\nCarcusses dun up in rags, and remaining for the space of six days\nand six nights with a skeleton grinning at me and pointing its long\nskinless fingers in my face and looking in an awful licentious manner,\nshowing its pivoted legs--I say I naterally thought such an unheard-of\nexperience would have prepared me for \u201cthe awful change\u201d that follered.\nBut it didn\u2019t.\n\nOne nite, cummin\u2019 hum from the Mooseum, where I had been instructin\u2019\nand elevatin\u2019 several thousand pussons, male and female, I innocently\nswallered a fog--swallered it hull. I\u2019d bin swallerin on \u2019em ever since\nI\u2019d bin in England, but that night I took in a bigger one than ever,\nand it made me _sick_.\n\nI sent for the physicians that received the patronage of the\nnoble lords and dooks and they made me _sicker_; and finally for\nthe physicain \u201cto her most gracious majisty the Queen of Great\nBritain,\u201d--but their aristocratic attention to me was of no use. As I\nlie tossing on what is known as \u201cthe bed of pain,\u201d I seed a big light\ncoming through the dark towards me. Behind that light appeared a grim\nskeleton, just like the pictur of Death in the Alminack, walkin\u2019 on\ntiptoe toward me; and quicker than a wink he put out his long bony\nhand and touched me--firstly, in the pit of the stomach, so I couldn\u2019t\nholler; nextly, he pressed his finger tips on my eye-balls, and they\nsunk right back into their sockets.\n\nI tried to shake him off, and to yell, but I couldn\u2019t! Then I knew I\nwas \u201cdun fur.\u201d Next came what a printer\u2019s devil would call a ---- blank.\n\nI was skeered out of my seven senses, and when I cum to and tried to\nrecolect myself, I was like the old woman in the song who fell asleep,\nand\n\n\u201cBy came a pedlar and his name was Stout\n  And he cut her petticoats all round about;\nHe cut her petticoats up to her knees,\n  Which made the old woman begin for to freeze.\u201d\n\nI was in the same predicament, for I was now only in my bare bones, and\nknew I was a rolecking old skeleton.\n\nWall, it gin me an awful shock to find myself like a skull and\ncross-bones on a tombstone, sittin\u2019 on my own coffin!\n\nPresently I was grappled by a big worm with a hundred legs. He then\nsent for his feller worms, and they licked me from skull to toe-jint.\nAfter I had stood the lickin\u2019 as long as I could (they tickled so),\nI concluded to run away, so I started on a full gallop, and arter\nI had run awhile, where should I fetch up but in the vicinity of\nVic\u2019s Palace. I know\u2019d by pussonal experience suthin\u2019 of the feelin\u2019\nmanner with which the British public look upon the Royal Family, and\na sensation of relief cum over my mind as I thought if I once entered\ntheir ground no one dared foiler me. So I gin a spring and leaped right\natop of the middle chimny. Owin\u2019 to private considerations, I did\u2019nt\nmind the soot, but I clambered down, and there I was, to my amazement,\nrite in the private apartments of the Queen. She was sittin\u2019 at a table\nlookin\u2019 at a dogerotipe of Prince Albert; and I walked straight up to\nher, not feel in\u2019 a bit afeared, and making my manners, axed her if I\ndidn\u2019t resemble the Prince?--rememberin\u2019 that the preacher had kindly\nsaid over my coffin that \u201cthere was no distinction in the grave.\u201d\n\nI thought that as I was a pooty gay image of Death, I might remind her\nof the \u201cPrince Consort.\u201d\n\nShe looked up kinder sideways as I spoke, but she must have bin a\nleetle hard o\u2019 hearing, for she shook her head.\n\nThen I thought I\u2019d try her on another tack. So I placed my hands on\nmy shakey knees, and bendin\u2019 over in this guise, so she could see me\nplainly, while my teeth rattled in my skull as I shook my head at her\nand growled:\n\n\u201cHaint you afeared of me, Madam?\u201d With the pirsistent obstinacy of the\nfeminine gender, she refused to notice me. So I thought she was kinder\n\u201cset up on her pins,\u201d and I shouted louder:\n\n\u201cVictoria _Brown_! Aint you afeared of me? Aint you afeared I\u2019ll tell\nPrince Albert of your _dooins_?\u201d\n\nAt that she gin an awful yell, and flung herself down upon a yaller\nsatin divan, trimed with gold, and slobbered it all over with tears.\n\nI know\u2019d then I had a \u201c_mission to perform_,\u201d and that my fleshless\nbones were not given me for useless pleasure, but as a \u201cwarnin\u2019 to my\nrace.\u201d\n\nArter this adventer I left the palace as I had entered it, \u201cleavin\u2019 not\na trace behind me.\u201d\n\nSince that affair, I have bin goin\u2019 about \u201cdoin\u2019 good,\u201d frightnin\u2019 the\nwicked into fits, and follerin\u2019 in the steps of the parsen, and thus\nworking my way out of Purgatory.\n\n\n\n\nLECTER II.\n\nARTEMUS WARD.--OUT OF PURGATORY.\n\n\nRelatives and nabors,--Thinkin\u2019 you\u2019ll, like to know whether I\u2019d bin\nroastin\u2019 in brimstone, along with Solomen and Lot\u2019s wife, and that you\nmight feel consarned to know sumthin\u2019 about my further adventers, I\u2019ll\ncontinoo.\n\nOne mornin\u2019 soon after this, havin\u2019 spent a restless nite, I was\nthinkin\u2019 what I had best do, when I seed, cumin\u2019 rite out of a big\nmarble edifice, a nice little woman about as raw-boned as myself. As\nshe carried an open paper in her hand which was certified to by two\nbishops and three clergeymen that she\u2019d bin baptised and her sins\nwashed away, I felt it would be safe for me to foller her, knowin\u2019 I\nhad no such dockerment to admit me into the good graces of Abraham or\nPeter, or whatever porter might keep the gates of Paradise.\n\nShe seemed kinder skeered and tremblin\u2019 like for a minit, not knowin\u2019\nwhat to do; then with a sudden start she spread herself out just like\nthe eagel of Ameriky, and soared rite up into the sky with nothin\u2019 to\nhiste her by. I felt in my heart to foller her, and spread out just as\nshe did, keeping near her on the sly.\n\nAs she went on she began to shine like a star, shootin\u2019 on through the\nazure heavens for all the world like a sky-rocket.\n\nThat put me on my pluck, and I bust out just like a sky-rocket too. My\nblazers! If it didn\u2019t make my head spin.\n\nWhen I collected my idees, I thought I\u2019d look and see if I resembled\na glow-worm behind, and there, by thunder, was a long stream of\nlight, just like the tail of a comet! I tell you, I felt happy! She\u2019s\nregenerated me, thought I; and I, too, am one of the \u201cshining hosts\u201d!\nAnd then directly, without any warnin\u2019 or noise of any kind, all around\nbegan to look about the color of a yaller sun-flower, and I began to\nscent a powerful smell of roses and violets.\n\nThe female sank down in the golden air, and I kept cluss beside her,\nand as she kept droppin\u2019 she suddenly changed, like the old woman in\nthe fairy-book, into a bouncin\u2019 girl, the very pictur of the goddess of\nliberty!\n\nArter this, she turned and smiled on me. She looked just like alabaster\ncream; the most dazzlingest creetur that ever startled the beholder!\n\nI was took quite aback when she held out her little hand for mine;\nI felt kinder delicate like that she should see my big jints. But\nhowsomever, \u201chere goes,\u201d said I, and I stuck out my bony fist, and, by\nJupiter, it was kivered with flesh, jest as soft and delicate as Uncle\nSam\u2019s babies!!!\n\nI stood starin\u2019 from my hands to her about a minit, and then she bust\nout a-laughin\u2019, and I bust out a-laughin\u2019 too!\n\n\u201cHow shaller you be!\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s duced amoosin\u2019,\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cWho be you?\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cArtemus Ward, the great lecterer on \u2018Women\u2019s Rites and Mormons,\u2019\u201d said\nI.\n\nAt this she seemed mighty tickled.\n\n\u201cI heerd you speak on those momentous subjects in Liverpool,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cAnd arter that when I read the affectin\u2019 account of your death in a\nstrange land, I cried.\u201d\n\n\u201cCried?\u201d said I, \u201cI\u2019m much obleeged to you, but there\u2019s nothin\u2019 to cry\nfor as I know.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo there be\u2019nt,\u201d said she, puckerin\u2019 up her pretty little mouth; \u201cbut\ntell me, now, is this reely you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said I, \u201cwhether its reely myself or not, for I haven\u2019t\nseed myself--how do I look?\u201d\n\nShe naterally blushed and answered:\n\n\u201cAnsom.\u201d\n\nThat was too much for me. I took her round her waist and whispered--I\nwont tell you what. She shook her head so that the ringlets fell\ndownall over her neck like the ashes from a tobaccy pipe, and in a\nmighty reprovin\u2019 manner said:\n\n\u201cArtemus Ward, I am a poetess!\u201d\n\n(By Jupiter! that was a stunner.)\n\n\u201cIs it Mrs. _Browning_?\u201d said I, ready to drop on my knees (thinkin\u2019 of\nRobert).\n\nShe shook her head agin, and moved off, and I follered, kinder ashamed\nof bein\u2019 so abrupt. Lookin\u2019 loftily at me, she said:\n\n\u201cI must leave you.\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave me!\u201d said I, \u201cYou cruel monster of beauty! Leave when I am\n_sealed_ to you?\u201d\n\n(That kinder frightened her--I learned suthin\u2019 from bein\u2019 among the\nMormons.)\n\n\u201cYou may foller me,\u201d said she, while descendin\u2019 in the midst of a\ngarden which opened rite before us. I did as she advised, and stepped\nrite down in a place where there was a mighty display of trees,\nflowers, and fountains, and a pretty big sprinklin\u2019 of people.\n\nGood Heavens! thought I. Is this the New Jerusalem? and lookin\u2019 around\ntimidly for the man with the key, fearin\u2019 I might be turned out, but\nseein\u2019 nothin\u2019 but common lookin\u2019 men and women, and no \u201cflamin\u2019\ncherubim,\u201d and creaters with wings stuck on their heads, and no bodies,\nsuch as I had naterally expected to find in such a place, I took\ncourage and stept forward boldly.\n\nThe people all commenced cryin\u2019 out as loud as they could:\n\n\u201cArtemus Ward! Artemus Ward!\u201d\n\nI felt kinder abashed at this, but advanced and called out, \u201cHear!\nhear! Friends, it\u2019s an amazin\u2019 mystery how you know\u2019d my name.\u201d (I\nfelt diffident at not havin\u2019 my lecter in my pocket, and not bein\u2019\naccustomed to speakin\u2019 verbatim.) Howsumever, as they continooed\nto clap their hands and shout, I got together all the brass I used\nto carry \u201cdown East,\u201d and jumped right atop of one of the roarin\u2019\nfountains--the very biggest on \u2019em all. I surmised it was kinder\ndangerous, havin\u2019 always experienced a religious awe of the \u201cwater of\nlife,\u201d and not knowin\u2019 but what this might be it. \u201cHere goes,\u201d said\nI; \u201cfaint heart never won fair lady,\u201d for rite at the foot was that\nbootiful poetess to whom allusion has been made, lookin\u2019 straight at me\nwith all her eyes.\n\nI wanted to make a grand impression and let \u2019em know that I cum from\na nation that could fight for the Constitution, and wasn\u2019t afeard\nof spirits. And as for the \u201cgold and pearls,\u201d the \u201cjasper and the\nsardonix,\u201d they needn\u2019t expect to snub me off with this, for I had been\nall through the gold and silver regions of Ameriky, and could tell as\nbig a story as any on \u2019em.\n\n\u201cThe fact is, friends and nabors,\u201d said I, \u201cit is one thing to read of\na place, and another to see it. Now I must say, that geography and book\nof travels called the \u2018Bible\u2019 is suthin\u2019 like \u2018Gulliver\u2019s Travels,\u2019\nrather loose in description; and, for all I see around me, the grand\nnation of Ameriky can beat you all holler in wonders.\u201d\n\nHavin\u2019 thus spoken a good word for my country, I dismissed them, and\nhurried back to commence these lecters, which is only a beginnin\u2019 of\nwhat I intend to do for the Amerikan People.\n\n\n\n\nLADY BLESSINGTON.\n\n_DISTINGUISHED WOMEN_.\n\n\nIt is remarkable to what a degree woman develops her intellect in the\nspirit world.\n\nFreed from the cares of maternity, she seems like some young goddess\nfresh from the hand of Jupiter. All nerve, electricity, and motion--her\nthoughts sparkling and full of flavor, and light, and life, this\nnew-born Eve of the celestial kingdom inspires the down-trodden Eve\nof earth, and kindles to a blaze the whole male population of the\nspiritual globe.\n\nProminent among the women of the times who have emigrated to these\nshores from populous America, stands Margaret Fuller--a tall and\nimpressive blonde--a woman of strong bias, and resolute as a lion when\nshe has set foot upon a project. Earnest, passionate, and brilliant\nin conversation, she wields a powerful influence over many minds of\na peculiar order; and through the few mediums whom she selects to\nrepresent her characteristics, she displays a calmness and coolness of\nreasoning and an excellence of judgment such as few are able to exhibit\nthus second handed.\n\nShe has, through the exercise of her genius, erected a beautiful villa\nupon a southern island, wherein she has displayed her poetic taste to\nadvantage. There, in the midst of a luxuriant garden, she resides with\nher beautiful Angelo, a child of graceful form who was washed ashore\nfrom the sad wreck years ago, but now approaching the years of manhood,\nand in his looks the very personification of a young Mercury, blending\nthe fire and passion of a Southern nature with the zeal and activity of\nthe Northern.\n\nCount Ossoli and his noble wife tear themselves away from the pleasures\nof this delightful state of existence and devote their sacred energies\nto the enfranchisement of Italy.\n\nNo Roman patriot, neither Garibaldi nor any of his compeers, equals\nthem in their efforts for the freedom of that sunny land.\n\nMadame Ossoli is sanguine of success.\n\nDefeat she considers merely the plough and harrow for the ripe harvest\nof victory which will follow.\n\nFrom her own eloquent lips I have heard her address to the Italian\nsoldiers who, defeated and killed, marched to the spirit land.\n\nShe told them how she, in the midst of her new-born joy, in sight of\nher own native land, fought the fierce battle of the briny waves, and\nfelt as she sat dying on the sinking wreck, that all she had striven\nfor was in vain; how she had found that defeat, that engulping billow,\nhad proved in the end a victory, and had placed her where she could\nwatch over the destiny of Italia, her adopted country, and work for its\nregeneration, and fight for its liberty, as she could not have done had\nshe been more successful in her plans on earth.\n\nAnother American woman, of less note, but also a reformer, is Eliza\nFarnham. She is not so emotional, has less sentiment and considerable\noriginality, and is honest in her opinions and determined in her\nefforts to uplift her sex and ameliorate their condition.\n\nShe wields a powerful influence over a certain clique in the spirit\nworld and on earth, and therefore deserves to be noticed among the\nwomen of the times. In person she is of dark complexion, with black\nhair and eyes, and strongly-marked brows, possessing much vivacity and\ncaustic wit.\n\nShe is matron of a large Institution, or Circulorium, erected for the\nuse of those spirits who make a practice of communicating with the\ninhabitants of earth. They there meet to converse upon the various\nmeans which they employ for transmitting intelligence, and to relate\ntheir successes and defeats with the various trance and clairvoyant\nmediums through whom they operate. There congregate those lecturers\nand orators who discourse through the organisms of numerous trance\nand inspirational mediums on earth. There also convene physicians and\n\u201cmedicine men\u201d who control the large number of healing mediums who\nexercise their power throughout the United States and Europe. There,\nalso, gather the prophets and seers, who, with vision clearer than that\nof ordinary spirits, warn mankind of danger and impress individuals\nto pursue certain courses of action, to go or come, to undertake and\nprosecute great designs for the seeming weal or woe of humanity.\n\nFrom this lofty aviary she still sends forth her delicious, strains.\nThe children of earth hear them in fainter notes through young poets\nwho catch her inspiration. What she is doing for women in the world she\ninhabits will be felt ere long in both the continents of Europe and\nAmerica.\n\nAnother remarkable person in this coterie of illustrious women must\nbe mentioned--Charlotte Bront\u00e9--a lady who feels the true dignity\nand intellect of her sex with a force akin to manliness. Modest and\nretiring, she would yet pick up the gauntlet like any knight against\nthe man who should say of a work of literary merit, \u201cthat it could\nnever have been penned by a woman.\u201d\n\nSoft and delicate, yet strong and full of heroism, she represents\nwoman, quicker to perceive the right than man, and capable of\nundergoing greater perils in executing her duty.\n\nCharlotte Bront\u00e9 is a slight, brown-haired girl, with an eye full of\nclairvoyant power. With her father, sisters, and poor reprobate of a\nbrother, all united like a cluster-diamond, she lives in a home which\nthey have selected, remarkable for its wild and picturesque beauty.\n\nAs a family they are like the ancient Scots, clannish--not in a vulgar\nacceptation of the term, but for the reason that they are kindred\nsouls. The torch of genius flames in every member of that family,\nbut Charlotte is the mover, the inspirer of them all. She possesses\na greater degree of concentration and energy, and is more chivalrous\nand venturesome. She is exceedingly interested in woman, and devotes\ndaily a portion of her time to visiting earth and suggesting ideas and\nthoughts to those whom she can influence.\n\nIn her new home she draws around her a circle of chosen spirits, among\nwhom may be mentioned Thackeray (who esteems her as about the finest\nspecimen of womanhood he has seen), Prince Albert, Scott, Hawthorne,\nthe German Goethe, De Quincy, and others.\n\nFew writers of romance have done more than she towards raising her sex\nabove the frivolities of dress and fortune, and placing them where they\nshine conspicuous for their intellect and noble affections.\n\nBold and unsparing in analyzing woman\u2019s heart in its uncontaminated\nsimplicity as well as in its subtlety, she lighted a torch in behalf\nof her sex which flamed throughout the literary world, startling and\ndazzling the beholder--a light which will never be quenched.\n\nCharlotte Bront\u00e9 was on earth what is now known as a medium. Her belief\nin the supernatural she evinced in her works. If she had not indicated\nso much intellect, the critics would have termed her superstitious.\nThey have inferred that it was the loneliness and sadness of her\nlife which caused her to imagine she saw her beloved dead and heard\nunearthly voices calling her. But she has since told me that those\nmysterious influences were not morbid fancies, but realities. Being\nthus endowed clairvoyantly, and not only receptive but able to impart\nthat which she receives, she exerts at the present moment an influence\nin the world of letters little dreamed of on earth.\n\nI may here, without infringing on the requirements of good taste,\nallude to the tale she has dictated through this medium. That it is a\nstory of powerful interest, all who read it will confess.\n\nTo many minds it will prove that her power is unabated, but every\nreader will perceive the characteristics of the Bront\u00e9 family in\nthe tale--characteristics which cannot be imitated--which are\nindividualized in that family, and breathe of the lone moor on which\nthey spent their earth ife, one of sad struggle of genius against\ncircumstance and destiny.\n\n\n\n\nPROFESSOR OLMSTEAD.\n\n_THE LOCALITY OF THE SPIRIT WORLD, AND ITS MAGNETIC RELATIONS TO THIS_.\n\n\nHow near is the spirit world to earth? is a question often put by the\ninquiring mind. Some suppose it lies contiguous, just in the suburbs;\nothers imagine the spirit world to be within the atmosphere of this\nearth; others again set it afar off in a given locality.\n\nThe last theory is correct, and the spirit world is really several\nbillions of miles from earth; yet the suppositions are true (in a\ncertain sense), for the inhabitants of the spirit world are migratory,\nand there are many millions of them living within the earth\u2019s\natmosphere, drawn thither on errands of pleasure and duty.\n\nBut there is a spiritual earth revolving around its spiritual sun, just\nas this earth revolves around its sun.\n\nIt has shape and form like this planet, and is indeed the spiritual\nbody of the earth.\n\nIt existed before the creation of man on this globe, and was ready\nfor the reception of the soul or spirit of the first human being who\nperished on earth.\n\nAs a spirit\u2019s body is constructed from the spiritual emanations of man,\nso the spiritual globe is formed of the magnetic emanations of the\nearth. The refined gases which were thrown off during the process of\nthe formation of the material globe which man now inhabits, form the\nbasis of the spirit earth.\n\nEach planet in the vast universe has its correspondent spirit world,\nand invisible magnetic rays are constantly exchanging between the\nspirit planet and its earth.\n\nThese magnetic currents or rays, like waves of silver light, constantly\ntransmit thoughts from the spirit world to this.\n\nAll spirit is matter.\n\nThe spirit globe, being primarily composed of gases, in revolving\naround its central sun ultimates in a substance which is similar to the\nsoil of your earth.\n\nThe same system which marks the development of the material world also\nis displayed in the development of the spiritual world.\n\nOrder is God. No spirit world can exist without form, neither can it\nexist without motion. Motion produces the spheroid, and the rotation of\nthe spheroid produces atmosphere and diversity of surface; all these\nvariations characterize the spirit globe.\n\nWhen these facts are carefully reflected upon and understood, the\nmajesty of the Creator assumes a magnitude most stupendous.\n\nThe astronomer searching through space for undiscovered planets and\nsuns, has failed to fix his telescope upon these spiritual worlds, but\nthe day will come when science will discover their existence.\n\nThe spirit world is not an arid desert. As I have said, it has soil.\nIt is not a thin, vaporish flat, without depth or density; and its\ncircumference exceeds that of the earth.\n\nOne of the component elements of its soil is magnetism. Its vegetation\nis of rapid growth and beautiful beyond anything that your planet can\ndisplay.\n\nAs the atmosphere of the spirit world is not so dense as yours, and\nas the rays of the spiritual sun are not obliged to penetrate through\nso much cloud and vapor, the colors of all objects are sparkling and\nbeautiful in variety and tone.\n\nThe specific gravity of the spirit upon his globe is not so great,\ncomparatively, as that of man in the natural world. He can rise in his\nnative air with little difficulty, and can dart with unerring accuracy\nupon the magnetic current flowing from the spirit world to the one he\nonce inhabited.\n\nThe investigator in searching for the spirit world has but to direct\nhis attention to the north star and his eye will embrace, unwittingly,\nthe locality of that world. The north pole is the great gate which\nleads to it direct.\n\nThe aurora borealis or Northern lights is an electric current which\nflows from that world to earth, and is sent in through the great gate.\nThe scintillations of these rays are caught up by the clouds and vapors\nand are repeated in many portions of the globe, and faint rays from\nthem are seen even in this temperate climate.\n\n\n\n\nADAH ISAACS MENKEN.\n\n_HOLD ME NOT_.\n\n\nUp to the zenith mount!\n Far into space--\nAh! all thy tears I count,\n Sad, loving face.\n\nClasp not my garments so,\n Love of my soul;\nClinging, you drag me low,\n Where tortures roll.\n\nSoil not my angel wing;\n Keep not from rest;\nHow can I upward spring,\n Clasped to thy breast?\n\nHold me not, lover--friend--\n Earth I would fly;\nPassion and torture end\n In the blest sky!\n\nLife brought but woe to me,\n Even thy kiss\nGave me but agony--\n Remorse with bliss!\n\nLet go thy earthly hold--\n  Fain would I fly;\nVoices with love untold\n  Call from on high.\n\nFarewell--the dregs are drank\n  Of life\u2019s sad cup;\nIt proved but poison rank;\n  Life\u2019s lease is up!\n\n\n\n\nN.P. WILLIS.\n\n_OFF-HAND SKETCHES_.\n\n\nSince my friend Morris joined me, we\u2019ve been as busy as Wall street\nbrokers in a gold panic--eyes and ears, and every sense filled with\nthe novel sights and sounds that greet us on every side in this most\ndelightful, charming, incomparably beautiful summer land.\n\nWhom have we not seen, from Napoleon down to the last suicide?\n\nI have a memorandum which would reach from here to Idlewild, filled\nwith the names of notables and celebrities, whom I have met in the\nshort space of a year.\n\nWe do matters quickly here, among the celestials. I used to think life\nsped fast in the great cities of London, Paris, and New York, but we\nlive faster here. With every means of travelling which human ingenuity\ncan invent--flying machines, balloons, the will and the magnet--we\nfairly outdo thought and light, which you consider emblems of rapidity\non earth.\n\nMorris and I made a point of visiting Byron, Moore, Hunt, Scott, and\nthat clique. You must bear in mind that we do not all live on one point\nof space _here_; among so many thousand million, billion, trillion,\nquadrillion, sextillion, and countless illions, there must be some\npersons who are further apart than Morris and I, who are side by side!\n\nIt is a peculiarity which you Yankees seldom think of, that Englishmen\ncan\u2019t endure to live in America. Well, that peculiarity is just as\nactive after they \u201cshuffle off the mortal coil.\u201d They must have their\nlittle England, even in the spirit world.\n\nSo I telegraphed to that quarter of the celestial planet that two\nstrangers from the great emporium of intellect, and civilization,\nNew York City, were about to visit that locality. We so arranged our\njourney as to arrive about a day after the dispatch had reached them.\n\nIt was proposed that we should meet at the beautiful villa belonging to\nthe Countess of Blessington.\n\nI can assure you that on arriving there it was with a slightly\npalpitating heart I ascended the noble steps of her residence. The\nCountess met us graciously, and by her vivacity and charming candor\ndispelled the feeling of modest diffidence as to our merits, naturally\nawakened by the thought of being presented to those illustrious persons\nwho so long held sway over English literature.\n\nEre we were aware, we were ushered into the midst of a hilarious group\nof authors, who welcomed us in a most cordial manner.\n\nI did not need to have them introduced to me by name, as I recognized\neach readily from likenesses I had seen on earth.\n\nLord Byron\u2019s countenance is much handsomer and more spiritualized\nin expression than any portrait of him extant. I noticed that the\ndeformity of his foot, which had been a severe affliction to him on\nearth, was no longer apparent.\n\nScott looked as good and as jovial as ever, and Tom Moore, the very\npink of perfection and elegance.\n\nAs for the Countess, when I last saw her on earth I thought her\nincomparable. But whether it was through the cosmetic influences of\nthe spirit air, or from other causes, she had now become bewitchingly\nbeautiful.\n\nAfter we had conversed awhile on general topics and I had answered\ntheir questions in regard to the changes which had occurred in certain\nterrestrial localities with which, they were familiar, the Countess\ninvited us out to survey the landscape from her balcony.\n\nThe view from this point was extremely romantic. Just beyond the\nspacious park extended a lovely lake, whose waters were of a rich\ngolden-green color. Upon its limpid bosom several gondolas floated, and\ngay parties waved their handkerchiefs to us from beneath the silken\nhangings as they passed.\n\n\u201cCountess,\u201d said I, after my eye had surveyed the fine landscape and\nnoble residence, \u201cI am but a wandering Bohemian, and you must excuse\nmy audacity if I ask how it, is possible that in this \u201cworld of\nshadows\u201d you have surrounded yourself by so much that is beautiful and\nsubstantial? You could not bring your title and your lands with you\nfrom earth. Your jewels and costly raiment you must have left behind;\nthen whence comes all this wealth and luxury?\u201d\n\nThe Countess smiled. \u201cAh,\u201d said she, roguishly, \u201cyou did not study your\nBible lesson well if you did not learn that you could \u2019lay up treasures\nin heaven.\u2019 Why, all the time I was living on earth I had friends\nworking for me--admirers who had been drawing interest from my youthful\ntalent and had laid it up to my account. We go upon the tithe system\nhere, and \u2019render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar\u2019s.\u201d\n\nShe told me that works of interest which are published on earth are\nreproduced in the spirit world and the author credited with a tithe of\nwhat accrues from them.\n\nByron, Scott, and Moore have also been doing double duty while on\nearth, and have been recompensed for their industry in the spirit world.\n\nByron, she privately informed me, had been united to the Mary of his\nearly love, and under her sweet womanly influence had lost much of the\nmisanthropy which had annoyed his friends in this life.\n\nAs my stay was short, I had only opportunity to converse with these men\nof mark on general topics.\n\nOn the whole, we spent a very interesting morning, and, after partaking\nof refreshments, we left, having inquired after Count D\u2019Orsay, whom we\nlearned was then on a trip to earth. Bidding adieu to the Countess and\nher friends, we started for the celebrated island called the \u201cGolden\nNest,\u201d which lies in a south-westerly direction from the Countess\u2019s\nvilla.\n\nAfter having travelled some hours in our own diligence (i.e., driven\nthrough the air by our own will), moving along quite leisurely that we\nmight survey the country beneath us, we reached a group of beautiful\nlakes, reminding me strongly in size and appearance of lakes Erie,\nHuron, Michigan, and Superior, the famed lakes of my own native clime.\n\nIn the centre of the largest of these lakes lay the island we were\nseeking. We descended like skilful aeronauts into the centre of a\ngroup of happy children, who were playing like little fairies amid the\nflowers blooming profusely everywhere.\n\nSingling out two of the prettiest, we addressed them.\n\nDirectly a merry band gathered about us, answering our questions\nintelligently and skipping before us to lead the way to the \u201cGolden\nNest,\u201d as the superb structure was called in which these little\nsoul-birds were sheltered.\n\nEverywhere, as we advanced, our eyes lit upon pretty bands of children;\nsome swinging in the tree-boughs like birds, some waltzing in the air,\nothers sitting upon the green, chattering and singing, filling the\nsurrounding air with their melody.\n\nCertainly it was a most enlivening sight to witness their enjoyment.\nAfter having amused ourselves for a while with their gambols, we turned\nour steps toward the Home.\n\nThe building was oval in form, and composed of a golden fleecy\nincrustation from which it derived it, name. Within, the \u201cNest\u201d was\nlike Aladdin\u2019s palace.\n\nInnumerable compartments, hung with silks and tissues of tender and.\nharmonious colors, and decorated with birds\u2019 plumage of varied hues,\narrested the eye. These spacious alcoves were each furnished with a\ndomed skylight, adorned with hanging tassels and glittering ornaments.\nLadies were busy in nearly all of these compartments in instructing\nchildren under their care.\n\nIn some that I entered I was shown new-born babes not an hour old, torn\nfrom their mothers\u2019 bosoms on earth, and lying upon fleecy pillows,\nattended by lovely women, who looked the angels which they were.\n\nOne of these gay baby-nests in which I lingered was decorated with\npeculiar tastefulness, and seemed like a perfect aviary. Singular birds\nof splendid plumage were perched on various projections about the\nspacious apartment, warbling away like silver bells.\n\nThe lady of this chamber was engaged in teaching a little girl of some\ntwo summers to mount to the skylight by her will.\n\nThis lady, I was informed, was the noble lady R----, so famed for her\ncharity on earth.\n\nShe was very gracious and communicative, and told me that some children\nexercised their ability to rise in air more readily than others; that\nthe difficulties their instructor had to guard against were the fickle,\nversatile nature of their wills, and their inability for continuous\nthought. Their wayward minds could not be directed long at one point.\nThey would wander from the path like the poor little Babes in the Wood,\nand on their way to special destinations, would change their thoughts,\nunharness their will, and come suddenly down, sometimes in lonely and\nunfrequented spots.\n\nOwing to this dereliction, it was found difficult to make frequent\nexcursions to earth with them. Those attracted to their terrestrial\nhomes were attended by ladies who had them in charge, and who would\nkindly accompany them, for one or two weeks, to visit their friends\nupon earth.\n\nI told her that I had lost a child some years ago, and had thought till\nrecently to find it still an infant.\n\nMany cases of this kind, she said, had occurred under her observation.\nPeople did not view the matter rationally. Ladies had called at the\n\u201cGolden Nest\u201d to inquire for children that had left earth twenty or\nthirty years ago, and it was painful to witness the distress they\nexhibited when told that their children were grown men and women.\n\nOne lady had called there some three days since, and claimed as her own\na little child, an infant about two months old, who had been brought\nfrom earth three weeks previous, while the child she had lost had been\nin the spirit world seventeen years!\n\nBut no amount of argument would convince her that her child had grown\nup, and that the infant she selected was not her own.\n\nShe was finally permitted to take the child away, as they knew it would\nbe properly cared for. Many of the children while young were thus\nadopted.\n\n\u201cIt appears marvellous,\u201d remarked this noble lady, \u201cthat any parent\nshould wish to cramp the body and soul of his child by keeping it\nin a state of infancy, when, if it had remained on earth, it would\nnecessarily have arrived at years of maturity.\n\n\u201cNature does not suspend her operations in transplanting from earth to\nheaven! The soul is formed for expansion, and surely the spirit world\nis not the place to suppress unfoldment!\u201d\n\nAs I listened to her intelligent conversation, I blushed to be reminded\nof my own error in supposing my own darling, who had reached the\nspirit world so long before, would greet me with the prattling talk of\nbabyhood!\n\nPleased with our visit and the information we had received, we bade\nadieu to Lady R. and the \u201cGolden Nest,\u201d and pursued our flight in\nanother direction.\n\n\u201cDo let us next find out,\u201d said I to Morris, \u201cwhat they do here with\ncriminals; there must be many a wicked reprobate who arrives here from\nearth fresh from murders and villanies of all sorts.\u201d\n\nAs I spoke, two grave-looking gentlemen, whom I took to be either\ndoctors or judges, crossed the path before us, and I proposed to make\nthese inquiries of them.\n\nWho should they prove to be but William Penn and the omnipresent\nBenjamin Franklin!\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Penn, in reply to our questions shaking his head\ndeprecatingly; \u201c\u2019tis too true; we are obliged to have what Swedenborg\ncalls \u201cour hells,\u201d for you send your criminals from earth so hardened\nthat we are compelled to keep them under guard. Come with us and we\u2019ll\nshow you how we treat them.\u201d\n\nWe were very glad of this opportune meeting, and followed with alacrity.\n\nPresently, leaving the beautiful country far behind us, we came upon\na desert waste, and as I am extremely sensitive to conditions, I felt\nsomewhat like a criminal in passing through it. Having got safely over,\nhowever, there burst upon our sight a scene of surpassing beauty; as\nfar as the eye could reach extended a most highly-cultivated district\nof country.\n\nGroves of fruit resembling the oranges and pineapples of our tropics,\nnoble trees like the palm, the fig, and date, were to be seen in every\nquarter, rearing their boughs against the summer sky. The air was laden\nwith fragrance from tree and vine.\n\nGreat bunches of purple grapes like the fabled fruit of Canaan in the\nOld Testament, a single bunch of which required two men to bear it,\ndrooped heavily from twining vines, while from many a bough and twig\nswung golden, crimson, and cream-colored fruit, which fairly made one\u2019s\nmouth water.\n\nIt was a picture rich enough in color for a Claude or Turner.\n\n\u201cThis is delicious,\u201d said I to Penn. \u201cDo tell us to what fairy prince\nthis magnificent land belongs!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will show you the fairy prince himself, very soon,\u201d said he. \u201cDo\nyou see the tip of his castle yonder?\u201d\n\nI looked, and as we moved swiftly in the direction indicated an\nunexpected spectacle loomed in sight. It was a building so delicate and\nperfect in its structure that it appeared like a vision.\n\nPillars and arches, dome and architrave, were wrought in a style\nexquisitely beautiful; the material of which it was composed seemed\nlike polished sea-shells, so transparent that you could see through it\nthe forms of the inmates.\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d said William Penn, \u201cis one of our prisons. Let us enter.\u201d\n\nWe followed in amazement, and were ushered into a hall hung with\npaintings rich in design and color, while distributed around in\nvarious alcoves were cases containing books and articles of curious\nworkmanship, of which I had not yet learned the use.\n\nThis hall formed the court within the main building.\n\nFrom where we stood we could see hundreds of men in white suits moving\nabout. Some seemed engaged in conversation, others in sportive games,\nand others in various employments.\n\n\u201cYou do not mean to tell us that these men are prisoners,\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cYes; they have passed for years on earth a life of evil, yet all the\nbeauty you behold here is the work of their hands. Idleness is the\nmother of crime. We teach them to become industrious, and surround them\nwith beauty to develop their love of harmony.\n\n\u201cIgnorance and poverty are supposed to be the principal causes of evil\non earth. But many fearful offences have been committed in high places\nfrom thwarted love and ambition. We have many of that character in this\nprison, but they are young. This is intended as a place to educate and\nrestrain men who would return to earth and incite impressible beings to\nevil.\n\n\u201cThe material of which this building is composed, though seemingly so\nfragile, is a non-conductor of thought, and while detained within it\nthe inmates gradually free themselves from their old influences and\ndisorderly desires.\n\n\u201cCultivating the fruits of the earth calls into action only their most\nharmonious organs. A great mistake made by the legislators of earth is\nin employing criminals in stone-cutting, or placing them in gangs, as\nthey do on the Continent, to work the rugged road.\n\n\u201cEmployment of this kind awakens the very propensities which should be\nsubdued. The composing, softening influences induced by tilling the\nsoil would go far toward converting your evil men into good citizens.\u201d\n\nI was struck with the truthfulness of his suggestions, and put them\ndown in my note-book for the benefit of humanity, and now hand them\nover to my readers for consideration.\n\nAfter leaving this place we paid a visit to Edgar A. Poe,\nwhose unfortunate life on earth you are all familiar with. His\nbrilliant imagination we found as active as of old. He welcomed us\nenthusiastically, and eagerly led us into a small theatre which he had\nconstructed and filled with most marvellous creations from his own\nfancy. He inherited from his father and mother, who were actors, a love\nfor dramatic effect, and in theatrical impersonations he found some\nvent for his exuberant imagination.\n\n\u201cStand here,\u201d said he, placing us near the entrance; \u201cI have something\ncurious to show you.\u201d He then suspended upon the stage a curtain, whose\npeculiarity was its pure, soft blue color, like an Italian sky.\n\n\u201cWatch,\u201d said he, pointing his uplifted finger to the hanging.\nPresently appeared upon it figures like shadows on a phantasmagoria.\n\nOne form was that of a female sitting upon a low chair, apparently\nreading a book.\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said Poe, \u201cis Miss D. I can control her and will her to reflect\nher figure upon the curtain; and that man is T.L. Harris. It is my own\ninvention,\u201d said he; \u201cI studied it out and applied chemicals to my\ncanvas till it produced this sensitive surface. All I have to do is to\nsend my thoughts to them, and will them to appear, and there they are.\nColeridge has a similar curtain, and some few others. But it requires\na peculiar spirit brain to magnetize the subject sufficiently.\u201d He\noffered to show me in the same manner any friend of mine with whom he\ncould come in rapport.\n\nThis proposition delighted Morris and I, and we spent an agreeable\nevening in seeing certain of our friends on earth thus revealed.\n\nSome were busy eating at the time, the _gourmands_! Others, more\nstudious, were poring over books and papers, and one, whose name I\nshall not mention, was reproduced in the very act of making love!\n\nThe, dear old faces awakened such sad memories, and the occupations\nin which they were engaged were in the main so ludicrous, that we\nwere held between tears and laughter till after midnight. But that is\nan Irish bull--for you must know that we have no night in the spirit\nworld. Our diurnal revolutions are so rapid, and the atmosphere so\nmagnetically luminous, that it is never dark here. But, however,\naccording to earth\u2019s parlance, it was midnight before we got through.\n\nI will now bid adieu to my friends and readers until we meet again.\n\n\n\n\nMARGARET FULLER\n\n_CITY OF SPRING GARDEN_.\n\n\nI am at present domiciled with my excellent friend Abraham Lincoln,\nin the beautiful city of Spring Garden. This place contains between\nsixty and seventy thousand inhabitants, a majority of whom are engaged\nin literary and artistic pursuits. It might vie with ancient Athens\nfor the wealth of mind which is concentrated within its precincts. It\nis not compactly built, the city covering about thrice the surface of\nground that would be occupied by one on earth of the same number of\ninhabitants. The streets are handsome, the pavements being covered with\na gay enamel which is formed by dampening a certain yellow powder,\nwhich, when hardened, shines like amber. They are laid out in circles,\nsurrounding a large park of several acres, which forms the centre of\nthe city. This park is embellished with trees and flowering plants of\nevery description, and does not differ materially from the extensive\nparks to be found on earth, except in its management.\n\nBooths are erected at the various gates, which are supplied with fruits\nand confections free to all who present a ticket to the keeper. These\ntickets are furnished by the city authorities to those who desire them.\nThis class is composed chiefly of children, and of grown persons who\nare incompetent to supply by their labor their own wants. Here they can\nwalk through the pleasant grounds, rock themselves in swings, which are\nnumerous, and, when weary with exercise, their appetites stimulated by\nthe refreshing air, which circulates through its hills and dales as\nfreely as in the open country, they can apply for refreshments at any\none of the booths or tables within the park. A very delicious drink\nmanufactured from the exudence of a flower not known on earth may here\nbe procured. The grounds are provided with various other apparatus\nfor amusement and pleasure, among which are elegantly-formed sleds\non galvanic runners, which glide over the ground with swiftness most\nexhilarating to the senses. Air carriages are also furnished, and, in\nshort, nothing is wanting for the pleasure and entertainment of the\nvisitors who throng daily the extensive avenues.\n\nForming an outer circle to the park is the main thoroughfare of the\ncity. The streets, as I have said, are laid out in graduated circles\nwhich increase in circumference as they recede from the centre. The\noutermost circle is bordered by trees, which form a natural wall.\nThis city might be called the circle of palaces, from the numerous\nmagnificent edifices which adorn it at every point.\n\nThe buildings are of a light, graceful style of architecture, adapted\nto the climate and the out-door life which the people generally lead.\n\nThe street facing the park is devoted to the display of commodities and\ncreations of the spirit world and its inhabitants.\n\nIn this section are exposed to view beautiful fabrics, finer than the\nweb of a spider, glistening like threads of sunbeam and ornamented with\nmost exquisite floral designs taken from nature. Some of these fabrics\nemblemize the blue heaven glittering with silver stars; others the\nclouds, with sunlight shimmering through them.\n\nSome have shadowy designs of birds and curious animals strown over a\nground of amber or violet. These beautiful devices are photographed\non the material; or, as the transcendentalist would say, they are\nprojected there by the will.\n\nElectricity with us is so potent an agent that it is used for this\npurpose, transferring the image and stamping it there.\n\nThese fabrics are more delicate and gossamer-like than any with which\nyou are familiar on earth.\n\nExquisite materials are not only indulged in by ladies, but _male\nangels_ robe themselves in attire more fanciful and gorgeous than they\nhave been accustomed to wear in their first life; except, indeed, the\nOrientals, who more nearly approach us Celestials in that particular.\n\nI will state for the benefit of ladies that we have no millinery\nestablishments, as the females wear simply their own beautiful hair,\nwhich they adorn with flowers and a peculiar lace, as thin as a breath.\nThe hair, owing to electrical conditions, is usually abundant and of\nbeautiful texture, forming the chief ornament of the head.\n\nOn the street I have described are also many studios for artists. These\n_attelliers_ are very ornamental in appearance, being placed in the\ncentre of a large court. They are of various fanciful shapes, according\nto the design of the artist, generally open on the sides, with a dome\nsupported by pillars, and resembling in form an ancient temple. Within,\nthey are hung with rich draperies, which are adjusted at pleasure.\nThe open dome admits the light and may be covered by a screen when\nnecessary.\n\nThese studios are all on the ground floor, and usually with airy\nreception rooms attached, opening upon a court gay with flowers, birds,\nand fountains, making it a pleasant retreat for the artist and his\nfriends. As my friend H---- gaily suggests, these accessible studios\ncompensate the artist for the _attics_ which he occupied on earth.\n\nThe art of painting is here carried to greater perfection than it ever\nhas been on earth.\n\nAs the development of the intellect in the material world depends upon\nthe subservience of matter to mind, so in the spirit world, the same\nprinciple is the great motor power; for there we have matter (that is,\nspirit matter), and this we work into forms of beauty as we desire.\n\nSpeaking of art, I must digress to allude to the _f\u00eate_ which we held\nin our park in honor of three quite eminent artists, who have recently\narrived in the spirit world and taken up their abode in this city.\n\nAs they were all new-comers, and but slightly acquainted with our\nmanners and customs, we gave this celebration to surprise them, and\nalso as a token of our appreciation of their efforts to spiritualize\nhumanity; for art we regard as one of our most spiritualizing agencies.\n\nIn the centre of the park, I had forgotten to state, we have a temple\nerected, somewhat resembling those of ancient Greece, and which is for\nthe use of orators and public singers. This temple was beautifully\ndecorated with garlands and paintings by spirit artists. Within it\nwere seated the visitors and a few friends, and without were stationed\nmusicians, with curious instruments of melody, such as are unknown to\nearth.\n\nVarious ingenious machines for locomotion and amusement attracted\ngeneral attention. Another source of interest were the graceful and\npicturesque groups of children moving in the air. At intervals, one\nof the most fascinating of their number would descend with offerings\nof fruits and flowers for our guests. The amazement expressed by our\nvisitors, as these lovely children would suddenly sweep down through\nthe air like graceful birds of radiant plumage was delightful for us\nolder inhabitants to witness.\n\nThis city contains several institutions of learning which are\naccessible to all; not only those can become inhabitants of this\ncity who have a taste for the beauties and refinements of life, but\nneedy aspirants from earth may be introduced by them into these\nestablishments.\n\nPrevious to entering the spirit world I had supposed everything here\nwould be free, but I have found here, as on earth, that nothing can be\nattained but by exertion, and that the great diversity of talent and of\ngifts necessarily enforces a system of exchange.\n\nAll men are not alike inventive in the spirit world. The inventor, by\nhis fertile brain, constructs an article which the majority desire to\npossess, and for that article they give him an equivalent. It may be a\npicture or it may be a song.\n\nHere the artisan is not hampered as on earth; his time--the mere time\nemployed in mechanical labor--is of short duration. Our facilities\nfor creating are so immensely superior to those of earth that but a\nbrief period is required for producing a result. The remaining time is\ndevoted mainly to the development of the mind, to amusement, and to\nscientific research.\n\nI stated in the beginning of my letter that I was visiting the home of\nAbraham Lincoln. He is residing here with some members of his family,\nand appears very happy and contented. The son for whose loss he grieved\namid the honors of the White House, is now his friend and companion.\n\nMatters of state, as I learn from conversation with him, occupy his\nmind but little; but he is deeply interested in humanity, and is\nanxious to elevate and harmonize the whole human family.\n\nHis influence for good is powerful, and he exerts it constantly.\n\nTheodore Parker and Hawthorne both reside in this city. Parker, as I\nhave been told, when he first came here, decided to devote himself to\nthe cultivation of land; but he has drifted again into the rostrum, and\ntwice a week you may see the fair maidens and gallant swains of Spring\nGarden wending their way to his beautiful little home and garden in the\nsuburbs, where, amid the flowers, he descants to them, in his eloquent\nway, on life and the attributes of the human soul, and also upon his\nearth experiences.\n\nSo you perceive he exemplifies by his own actions the wise saying,\n\u201cOnce a prophet, always a prophet.\u201d His original mind cannot keep\nsilent, and his thoughts find readiest utterance in speech.\n\nHawthorne is living here with his beautiful daughter, who devotes her\nattention to art.\n\nHis mind is as active as ever. He informs me that many of the mysteries\nthat seemed inexplicable to him while on earth are now cleared up.\n\nI have spoken of the noble buildings of this city, surrounded by\nspacious gardens and beautified by trees and flowers, fountains and\nsinging birds; but I have not alluded to the way in which property is\nheld, and the reader will naturally inquire if these handsome dwellings\nare owned by their occupants.\n\nThey are not, but are simply loaned to them. Spirits congenial to those\nat present residing here lived in them ages agone.\n\nIt is true, each individual taste may alter and embellish the buildings\nand surroundings, but these improvements belong to the city and not\nto the individuals. The titles are vested in the community, and its\nmembers can vote, as in the case of Abraham Lincoln, in reference to\nany individual coming among them.\n\nThere are three daily papers issued in the city, and only three. One\nis especially devoted to reporting news from earth,--revolutions that\ntranspire, changes in state and national politics, recent accidents\nwhich have thrown individuals suddenly into the spirit world, and to\nrecording the names, as far as possible, of persons who have deceased\nfrom earth.\n\nDisasters that occur on sea and land are immediately telegraphed to the\nnewspapers in Spring Garden and published for the use of the community.\n\nIt may be interesting to the curious to know that in cases like the\nsinking of a vessel, where fifty or a hundred individuals are suddenly\nushered into the spirit world, delegates are sent out from this and\nother cities to meet the sufferers and offer them the hospitalities of\nthe city, in accordance with their individual merits and degrees of\ndevelopment.\n\nOur method of printing newspapers differs materially from that in vogue\non earth.\n\nOur papers might be termed photo-telegrams. A much less space is\noccupied by a communication of a given length than the same would\nrequire in your papers. We have a system of short-hand, understood by\nall, similar to that used by your telegraphic operator.\n\nWe have various places of public amusement, two fine theatres which\nare devoted to dramas originating with the inhabitants of our world,\nand another appropriated to the representation of dramas familiar to\nearth. Our places of amusement are of large capacity, hence but few are\nneeded; and the people of this city being congenial in their natures,\nas many as possible like to assemble in one place.\n\nThe several actors who have been famed on earth appear at the theatres\nin Spring Garden. Garrick, Kean, Kemble, Booth, Vandenhoff, Cooke,\nMacready, Rachel, and Mrs. Siddons, visit us from time to time.\n\nAmong our distinguished actors are many who on earth were clergymen,\npoliticians, and of other occupations.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: I am told that the Rev. Newland Maffit is at present a\ndistinguished actor in the spirit world. ED.]\n\n\n\n\nGILBERT STUART.\n\n_ART CONVERSATION_.\n\n\nPeople are fools in religion, and worship as divine the most stupid\nmonstrosities ever conceived of! Only tell the masses that St. Luke,\nSt. John, or Mary Magdalen was the author of some absurdity, which, if\nyou or I had originated, they would scoff at, and they will clasp their\nhands in mute admiration over that miracle of art!\n\nSo it seems to me to be with Spiritualists. Drawings devoid of taste,\nhard, and out of proportion, are received by them with acclamations of\njoy, and credited, if they are figures, to Raphael, and if landscapes,\nto Claude Lorraine or some other great master of art.\n\nNow I, for one, wish people would use their brains, and not be so\neasily gulled.\n\nIt is truly wonderful that a spirit can make a person draw a straight\nline who never could draw any but a crooked one. It partakes something\nof the miraculous, I admit; and that spirits should produce likenesses,\nand representations of flowers, scrolls, and ornamental designs, and\nunearthly landscapes, through mediums whose powers of representation\nand artistic talents have never been developed, is indeed marvellous!\nbut that these drawings should be called works of art, and looked upon\nas the genuine offspring of those immortal painters, is ridiculous, and\na thing to be deprecated by every intelligent spirit and Spiritualist,\neither here or in any other world!\n\nWhy, God Almighty himself could not take a raw, unschooled,\nundisciplined hand, and produce a work of art!\n\nIf a medium is content with what he has done, if he does not comprehend\nthe faults of his work, if his eye and brain are not educated\nartistically,--then he must stand like a machine working in a groove.\n\nNeither Phidias nor any of his descendants could inspire a high\nproduction through such means!\n\nNow I do wish that _educated artists_ would seek to be controlled by us\nspirits; or that those mediums whom we do influence would go to school,\nand submit to the drudgery that is necessary to give them skill in\ndesign and execution.\n\nThen could we hope to represent something of the progress of art in the\nspirit world; and would be enabled to depict marvels of landscapes, and\nthe seraphic beauty of the human face with its grace and perfection of\nform, as it meets us in this artistic land.\n\nYon ask if we have galleries of art here. I should think so: art-love\nis immortal! You do not suppose that Benjamin West, Washington Allston,\nHenry Inman, Copely, Stuart, and we Americans who loved our art, would\nbe satisfied with laying down the brush, and would have contented\nourselves with singing and playing on cymbals constantly for the\nhundred years or so that we\u2019ve been here? Now, where there is a will\nthere is a way, and having the will, we have found the way to exercise\nthe genius which God gave us.\n\nSpeaking of music, the gift is cultivated here to an extent that would\nset the _dilettanti_ of earth wild with ecstasy!\n\n_Music, Poetry, Art, Oratory_, and _Scientific Research_, form the\nprincipal occupations of the beings in this immortal world of ours, and\nlanguage is incapable of conveying an idea of the perfection which our\nnoble and glorious faculties have attained.\n\nArt is about to undergo a revolution. At present too much attention is\ngiven to the literal rendering of a fact, and imagination, which is\nmerely a faculty for reaching the immaterial, is checked; but ere long\npainters will turn their attention to representing scenes in spirit\nlife, and the inspiration which attended the old masters when they\ngave wings to their fancy and cut loose from identical imitation, will\nreturn.\n\nLet the camera and the photograph reproduce the exact outline and\nminutiae, but let the artist paint with the pencil of imagination and\ninspiration! Only permit imagination to have root in the material\nworld. As no man can become a good angel who has not developed his\nphysical nature in harmony with his spiritual, so neither painter\nnor medium can represent the artistic beauties of the natural world,\nnor of the spirit world, unless he has had a good physical training.\nIt is only through the _physical_ that the imagination can express\nitself with beauty and correctness. Truth is beauty, and is always\nproportionate; the light equalizing the dark, precisely as in the\nperfection of art a mass of shadow is balanced by a proportion of light.\n\nOne of the most agreeable places of rest or there-abouts is the\nartists\u2019 rendezvous--a building larger than St. Peter\u2019s at Home,\nmagnificent in structure, and filled with wonderful paintings.\n\nHere artists and authors of all nations are to be found. You can step\nin any morning and have a chat with Lawrence, Reynolds, Lessing,\nDelaroche Hazlitt, Coleridge, Charles Lamb, Beethoven, Mendelssohn,\nRossini, Willis, Irving, Anthon, Sigourney, Osgood, Booth, Kemble,\nKean, Cooper, Vandenhoff, Palmerston, Pitt, O\u2019Connel, Lamartine,\nNapoleon, Margaret Fuller, Charlotte Bront\u00e9, Lady Blessington, and\nothers of note, who have made themselves illustrious during the\neighteenth and nineteenth centuries. People of congenial tastes and\naspirations can readily obtain admittance, and all freely engage in\nconversation on topics connected with art and literature.\n\nA large garden is attached to the building, filled with every manner\nof fruit-tree, and is accessible to all; any poor devil of an artist\ncan go there and some bewitching Houri will present him with all the\ndelicious condiments which his taste or fancy can demand.\n\nIn these matters the inhabitants of earth need to take a lesson from us.\n\nI prophesy that America will be a pioneer in these reformations, and\nwill, in some Central Park, erect a building similar to this, where\naspiring artists may receive food for the soul and the body, and where\nartistic minds can meet and interchange ideas.\n\n\n\n\nEDWARD EVERETT.\n\n_GOVERNMENT_.\n\n\nThe Christianized world supposes that the form of government now\nexisting in the heavenly system is that of a monarchy; that God is the\nsupreme ruler of the whole universe, embracing not only the little\nplanet Earth, but the countless starry worlds and invisible systems\nthat roll through space. But more directly in its imagination does it\nplace him as the sole monarch and kingly ruler of the spirit world. It\nseats him in fancy upon a gorgeous throne, material in every aspect of\nits magnificence; a throne of gold and jewels, as described by that\nMiltonic poet, St. John, in his \u201cRevelations.\u201d\n\nThis is the prevailing faith of Christendom; a faith which to the\nmajority seems knowledge as positive as the fact that Victoria rules\nthe British people, and sits upon the English throne.\n\nYet this is the conception of a people fond of barbaric pomp and\nsplendor. A conception unsupported by reason and at variance with fact.\n\nNearer to the truth was the old Greek nation; a nation which embodied\nthe intellect, the wisdom, and the refinement of the present age.\n\nThat nation, in its belief in the government of the spiritual universe,\nwas wholly Polytheistic, believing in many gods, and, as I have said,\napproached nearer the idea of the form of government as existing in the\nspirit world, for it is a Republic of Gods.\n\nIt is a law of the universe that all vast bodies must be divided and\nsubdivided into smaller ones. Every system is a constellation and every\nconstellation is a congeries.\n\nIn accordance with this law, the universal world of _spirit_ is broken\nup, is divided and subdivided.\n\nIn these divisions and subdivisions forms of government ensue,\ndiffering slightly one from another, according to the progressive\ndevelopment of the people; and an unlimited monarchy is not known in\nthe spirit world.\n\nThere are some clinging to their old habits, associations, and\neducation, who would fain raise the representatives of royalty on earth\nto the same positions in the spirit world when they become residents\nthere. But the effort, when made, cannot be sustained. The one-man\npower is incompatible with spiritual laws and spiritual justice.\n\nIn a world where the external trappings are torn away and the internal\nnature of man is exposed to observation, the prerogatives of earthly\nkings have but little power.\n\nThe republican form of government is destined to overthrow all the\nmonarchies of earth. As the world progresses and knowledge becomes\nuniversal, individuals will be able to govern themselves.\n\nIt has been only through ignorance and superstition, and the limited\nknowledge of the masses, that the kings and emperors of earth have been\nenabled to sway their jewelled sceptres over the necks of the people.\nBut their reign is drawing to a close; their glories have culminated;\nand the day is rapidly approaching when earth will be governed even as\nthe heavens above are governed. As in the world of nature, \u201cthe same\nchance happens alike to all,\u201d and every child in time may become a\nman and every infant a father, and the experience of one becomes the\nexperience of all, so in the government of the spirit world, every man\ncan rise and become for a space of time the patriarchal dictator of a\nrepublic.\n\nThe prevailing form of our republic differs from that of the American\nrepublic in many particulars. Our term of office is of shorter duration\nthan with you. Our directors while in office make friendly excursions\nto other republics. Matters of state with us are not so weighty or\ncomplicated as with you, nor are encroachments and reprisals so common.\nWe are not compelled to sustain such vast armies and navies, involving\nthe necessity of directing and superintending them.\n\nAs a rule, people who have entered the second stage of existence desire\na change. They desire to live with more simplicity and freedom, and are\neager to begin their new life with nobler aspirations. Therefore, they\nassimilate with comparative ease with our form of government.\n\nOur directors are our fathers. The nearest approach to our system is\nthe government of the Mormons in Utah. Pardon me, if, in making this\nstatement, I offend any delicate sensibility. I allude not to their\ncreed, but to their mode of public administration.\n\nAs I have stated, the inhabitants of the spirit world are divided and\nsubdivided into associations, or bodies, which in your world would be\ntermed nations and states. For example, the nation to which I belong is\nrepresented by the American people. The nationalities of earth present\ndifferent traits and characteristics which set them apart, though in a\ngeneral aspect they present one whole. Even as in the ornithological\nworld different species of birds represent the feathered race, and\nthough differing in many particulars and forming separate varieties,\nyet assimilate as a whole, so nations migrating to the spirit world\nform separate nationalities. And, as I have stated, some of them,\neducated in the belief of the divine right of kings, choose a form\nof rule nearer approaching the monarchial than the republican. Among\nsuch often arises a Napoleon, a man of powerful intellect, a mind to\ngrasp all circumstances, and a will to direct, who succeeds in placing\nhimself in a position which he retains for years.\n\nBut as the hereditary right of kings cannot exist in the spirit world,\nthe emperor or dictator is chosen by the people, as was the custom of\nthe ancient Romans.\n\nIntercourse of nations with us is not bounded by the obstacles that\nexist on earth. Prominent ideas prevailing among the most intelligent\nmasses of spirits become the views of the whole. This your own world\nexemplifies. As the means of communication become more facile, as\nthe various arts of locomotion obliterate distance, the remote and\nbarbarous nations, brought into proximity with the civilized, assume\ntheir habits, adopt their modes of action, and follow their form of\ngovernment.\n\nI can safely predict for you a similar result. In the spirit world\nthose nations once most tenacious of kingly rights and of the majesty\nof the throne, lay quietly down their regal crowns, and assume the\nunostentatious cap of the republic. So will all the nations of earth\nfollow their spiritual leaders and hurl out from the round globe the\ncrumbling thrones and sceptres of kings and emperors and the tottering\npapal chair of Rome, down, down, into the vast tomb of antiquity!\n\n\n\n\nFREDERIKA BREMER\n\n_FLIGHT TO MY STARRY HOME_.\n\n\nI was in Stockholm when the ambassador, who is sent by the all-wise\nFather to pilot his children to the unknown land of roses, called for\nme, and I was obliged to part with the body which, though homely and\nunattractive, like the dear, good \u201cfamily roof,\u201d[A] had rendered me\nservice in many a stormy day.\n\n[Footnote A: Swedish term for umbrella.]\n\nThe feeling I experienced in taking my departure was like that of going\nout into a pitiless storm, and it was followed by an intense prickling\nsensation, similar to that familiarly known as the \u201cfoot asleep.\u201d This,\nI afterwards understood, was occasioned by the electrical current\npassing through my spirit as it assumed shape upon emerging from its\nold frame.\n\nSome twenty minutes perhaps elapsed after the breath leaving the body\nbefore I became perfectly conscious in my new form. Upon recovering\nthe use of my senses, my whole attention was drawn from myself to the\nfriends who had gathered in the room which had so recently been my sick\nchamber.\n\nAs I watched them combing the hair and attiring the white, stiff\nfigure that lay so solemnly stretched upon the couch, my emotions were\nindescribable. I endeavored to speak, but my voice gave but a faint\nsound, which they evidently did not hear--as a spirit, I attracted no\nattention. This caused me deep grief, for I desired them all to see me\nstill living.\n\nMy sad emotions were presently dispelled by the sound of most\nmellifluous music bursting upon my senses; and as I turned my eyes to\ndiscover the source from whence it proceeded, I beheld, resurrected\nbefore me, a group of dear old friends, whose bodies were already\ndust and ashes in the Swedish grave-yards, and in the cemeteries of\nthe old and new worlds. A hearty burst of joy escaped from my lips as\nI recognized them. We laughed, cried, shook hands, and kissed first\non one cheek and then on the other, with the same enthusiasm and\nnaturalness we would have shown had we been inhabitants of dear old\nmother Earth.\n\n\u201cCome, Frederika! Dear Frederika! don\u2019t stay gazing on that old body!\nLeave friends who cannot talk with you and come with us!\u201d they clamored\non all sides. Their voices were like a full orchestra; besides, some\nhad instruments of music, upon which they improvised little songs to my\nhonor. I was fairly bewildered. Presently they formed a circle about\nme and commenced whirling rapidly around and around. I felt as in a\nhammock swayed by the wind; a dreamy lethargy stole over me, and I\ngradually became unconscious; and thus, I am told, they bore me through\nthe earth\u2019s atmosphere, out in the stellar spaces, to a new world--a\nworld not of the earth, earthy, but the New Jerusalem which I had so\noften pictured to my fancy.\n\nA soft, pleasant breeze blowing directly upon my face, restored me to\nconsciousness. I opened my eyes, and, lo! I was reclining upon a divan\nin a great pavilion. The friends whom I had previously recognized were\naround me, some making magnetic passes over me, others engaged in\npreparations for my comfort. Upon seeing me awaken, several friends\napproached with flowers and fruits. The term \u201cflowers,\u201d though a\nbeautiful appellation, gives but a faint idea of these marvellous\ncreations.\n\nMy attention was particularly attracted to one whose corolla was of\ndeep violet striped with gold, having long silvery filaments spreading\nout from the cup in lines of light like the luminous trail of a comet.\n\nIn a state of delicious languor, I watched the varied wonders before\nme. The pavilion, which was of silver lace or filagree woven in the\nmost exquisite patterns, was a hundred or more feet in circumference,\nand adorned with open arches and columns on its several sides. These\ncolumns and arches were of coral and gold, which contrasted with the\nsilver network, and the blossoms and foliage of curious plants and\nvines which graced the interior, forming altogether a structure of\nsingular elegance and beauty.\n\nNumberless forms like the fabled peris and gods of mythology glided in\nand out of these arches, and approached me with offerings of welcome.\nOne blooming Venetian maiden presented me with a crystal containing a\ngolden liquid, which she said was the elixir of the poets and painters\nof her nation. The name she gave it was \u201cThe Poet\u2019s Fancy,\u201d and she\ninformed me that it was distilled from a plant which fed upon or\nabsorbed the emanations which the active mentalities of these poetic\nbeings exhaled.\n\nThis information was quite new to me, and gave me pleasure, as it\naccorded with my ideas of correspondence. So I sipped the \u201cPoet\u2019s\nFancy,\u201d and imagined that its delicious, aromatic flavor vivified\nme like rays of sunshine. If, previously, I had been charmed, I now\ncertainly experienced a power of enjoyment and quickness of perception\ntenfold increased.\n\nI then inquired for Swedenborg, Spurzheim, and Lavatar. \u201cYou will meet\nthem further on,\u201d said she, smiling. \u201cThey are not here.\u201d I was so well\npleased with her that I twined my arm around her fairy-like form and\nwe glided away together. As I desired to obtain a peep at the outside\nof the beautiful pavilion, my companion led the way, pausing here and\nthere to present me to groups who had advanced for that purpose. The\ncompany I found to be composed of writers and painters, interspersed\nwith a few of my own personal friends; and I felt gratified to\nfind myself so well received by those whom I had known on earth as\ncelebrities.\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis strange,\u201d I remarked to my companion, \u201cthat such choice minds\nshould all be gathered together in one place.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are spirits congenial to your own,\u201d said she. \u201cLike attracts\nlike, and they have come from their respective homes in the spirit\nworld to welcome you here.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said I, \u201cI now begin to understand what all this fine company\nmeans! This is my reception.\u201d\n\nAs we were leaving the pavilion we were joined by Herr Von ----, the\ncelebrated Swedish naturalist who had recently entered the spirit\nworld. He congratulated me upon my safe arrival, and kindly offered to\nact as _cicerone_ and to point out to me the marvels by which I was\nsurrounded.\n\nTo my astonishment, on reaching the open air I discovered that the\npavilion was located upon the summit of a lofty mountain. The face of\nthis mountain was of many colors and glistened like precious stones. My\nfriend led me to the point of a precipice on one side and bade me look\ndown. This I did, and beheld phosphorescent rays issuing from the sides.\n\n\u201cWhat wonder is this?\u201d I asked. He informed me the mountain was\nmagnetic in its character, and that it was, so to speak, the first\nstation from earth, and a point easily attained by a spirit newly\narriving from that planet. He said I was not permanently to remain upon\nthe mountain, but was placed there until I should become acclimated to\nthe spirit atmosphere, and to acquire strength before travelling to\nthat portion of the spirit land which would form my permanent abode.\n\nThe apex of the mountain formed a flat plain about two miles in extent.\nWe walked onward some distance, when he pointed out to me another\npavilion, much larger than the one to which I had been borne. The\nexterior form of each was alike, and resembled a Turkish mosque; the\ncrown-like canopy which formed the top being surmounted by a ball so\ndazzling in brightness that I was obliged to turn my gaze from it. This\nball was composed of an electric combination, which shed its rays far\nthrough space. \u201cAnd,\u201d said the good Herr Von ----, \u201cas the pavilion is\nused for the reception of the friendless and the homeless, they are\nattracted and guided to it by its coruscations.\u201d\n\nWe proceeded some steps further, and he showed me how the mountain,\nwhich is steep and precipitous on the northern exposure, sloped into\nbroken chains and lower elevations on the southern; and from this\npoint, looking down, I beheld through the clear atmosphere a billowy\nlandscape, clothed with soft, rich verdure, more fresh and green to the\neye than that which covers dear mother Earth.\n\n\u201cHow wonderful are thy works, O God!\u201d I exclaimed, as we retraced our\nsteps. And I could not but reflect upon the singular trait exhibited by\nJesus of frequenting a high mountain to pray. Surely, altitude elevates\none into the spiritual state, and no doubt Christ felt nearer to the\nspirit world when elevated far above Jerusalem, on the mountain-top,\namid the clouds. Thus, looking down from the sublime height, I realized\nfor the first time that I too was a spirit and an inhabitant of the\nworld in which Jesus dwelt!\n\n\n\n\nLYMAN BEECHER.\n\n_THE SABBATH_.\n\n\nIn the days of my ministrations on earth, it was pretty generally\nbelieved that the Sabbath day was one of peculiar sanctity; and\nthat the Creator, having completed the creation of the earth in six\ndays, had rested upon the _seventh_ from the labor attendant on that\nwork. But science, which is ever at war with the Jewish record, has\nestablished the fact that the world was not created in that short space\nof time.\n\nThe multiplicity of worlds created also disprove the idea that the\nCreator could have rested during any set period of time.\n\nSome zealous skeptics, to counteract the belief in the sanctity of the\nSabbath, have asserted that mind can never rest, and that as _God_ is a\nspirit, rest to him is impossible.\n\nEven granting this hypothesis, history and research have proven the\nwisdom and utility of the Jewish Sabbath, as established by the great\nlawgiver, Moses.\n\nThe Jews at that time were an active, restless, laboring people. Their\nindustry had enriched Egypt, and having escaped from her oppressive\nbondage, they were liable, in their efforts to found a nation of their\nown, to carry their habits of industry to excess.\n\nProbably they overworked their slaves, their cattle, themselves, and\nthe \u201cstranger within their gates.\u201d Their wise lawgiver, under the\ndirect influence of spiritual guides, promulgated this law: \u201cSix days\nshalt thou labor and do all thy work, but the seventh is the Sabbath of\nthe Lord; in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy man-servant,\nthy maid-servant, thy cattle, nor the stranger within thy gates.\u201d\n\nAnd this commandment has been handed down from the Jewish to the\nChristian nations. With the early Jews it was a day of recreation, of\ndancing, and of song. The early Christians employed the day at first\nin social intercourse, afterwards it became a day of sacred ordinance;\nand, as copies of the Scriptures were rare, they met on that day to\nhear them read, and in their simple faith would select passages and\napply them to their own necessities.\n\nWhen the Christian religion invaded Pagan countries and became\nestablished, the days which had formerly been appropriated to feasting\nand sacrificing to the gods and goddesses became the fast-days of the\nRomish Church.\n\nWhen Protestantism arose, she swept off from her calendar these\nfast-days, and returned to the simplicity of the Jewish Sabbath.\n\nPuritanism followed and gave a literal meaning to the text, \u201cThou\nshalt do no work.\u201d Under her reign, all labor was suspended on the\nseventh day. A strict watch was set upon the actions of the individual:\nhousehold duties were neglected: fires were not lighted or food cooked.\nThe great world of activity stood still.\n\nRest so severe embittered men\u2019s judgment, and the Sabbath became a day\nfor prying into the derelictions of each other. A rigid observance was\nplaced upon men\u2019s actions, and stringent laws were made to punish the\noffender against this enforced rest.\n\nSo tyrannous and exacting did the Puritan observers of the Sabbath\nbecome, that their rigid formulas created a rebellion in the minds of\nthe succeeding generation, and so great has been the reaction, that in\nour day it has become a common assertion that \u201call days are alike,\u201d\nand the steam-car and the horse-car, the coach, and the hack, ply\ntheir busy wheels through the streets of our large cities, and the\nchurch-goers travel thereon to their different sanctuaries.\n\n\u201cAll days are alike to God,\u201d says the reformer; \u201cwhy should we\nobserve the Sabbath more than any other day?\u201d I will tell you why: a\nconcentration of the spiritual nature of men throughout Christendom\nnecessarily creates a magnetic atmosphere through which spiritual\nbeings can approach. The sincere and devout worshippers in every land\ncongregating in churches upon one day, send forth waves of magnetic\nlight which extend into the world of spirits. The music and the prayers\nare borne upward on this current, and great batteries are thereby\nformed that cannot but affect the souls in Paradise. They respond to\nthe music and the prayers, and worshippers in the churches feel their\nmagnetic influences. Those who are sincere in their religious faith\nsay that they feel \u201cheaven opened to them.\u201d Even those who attend\nchurch from fashion, or for the purpose of meeting their friends and\nneighbors, are there brought in contact with spiritual influences which\ncould reach them in no other way.\n\nThe experience I have gained since my entrance into my spiritual home\nhas given me more liberal ideas of the uses of the Sabbath, and taught\nme that to the working man it is a necessary day of recreation. But I\nlift my voice against its becoming one of beer-drinking and boisterous\nsports. The workman who is confined to the bench or the workshop, in\nthe midst of a crowded city, for six days of the week, will certainly\nbe benefited by seeking the green fields and healthful influences of\nthe country; but on reaching that desirable Eden, let means be provided\nfor his instruction; so, while sitting under the leafy trees, his mind\nmay be benefited, and his bodily organism rested, rather than injured\nby feasting and rioting in the public gardens and parks.\n\nField preaching should become a regular institution of the Sabbath; and\ndiscourses instructing the mind in morals and sciences should be given\nin the tent, or under trees, in parks and woods set apart for that\npurpose. Then would, the object of the Sabbath be attained. As I have\nsaid, the spiritual nature is more open to the reception of truth on\nthat day.\n\nThe state of sleepiness, which is a well-known attendant on the\nSabbath, is indicative of the magnetic influence; and those who discard\nthe day, and secretly pursue their active employments, would do well to\nheed the remarks I have made.\n\nBefore I close, I wish to make some observations upon the present\nstyle of preaching as compared with the sermonizing of my day. When I\noccupied the pulpit, the doctrines of election and predestination were\nthe principal themes that engaged the attention of ministers.\n\nFree will and coerced will were questions which puzzled the theologian.\nLooking upon the Bible as an inspired book, the most careless sentence\ntherein expressed became a word of weighty import. We engaged the minds\nof our hearers with abstract questionings and reasonings. But we never\ncould make the doctrine of predestination accord with that of free\nwill. Nor could we clearly account for the presence of evil, while we\nbelieved the Creator to be all wise, all powerful, and cognizant of the\nend from the beginning. Yet these were the topics which the minister\nof my day discussed and endeavored to make clear to the comprehension\nof his hearers. We did not treat of every-day life; the pulpit we\nconsidered too sacred for such topics. Religion with the masses became\nan abstract state of holiness. Men assumed long faces and sober\nbearings upon the seventh day; but their every-day life was something\ndifferent, which the minister and his ministering did not reach.\n\nBut the pulpits of to-day are platforms of another kind. They have\naltered, even as their shape has altered. Their outward construction\ncorresponds to their teachings. In my day the pulpit was narrow and\nstraight, and was lifted high above the people. But at the present\nday a step only separates it from the congregation. It is broad, low,\nand open. The teachings received from it correspond with its change\nof form. The ministers of to-day are one with their flock. Their\ndiscourses are practical, relating to every-day affairs. They no more\ndiscuss the questions of Satan, of angels, and archangels, nor arouse\nan undefined fear by descanting on the mysterious prophecies of Daniel:\nthey talk to you like _human beings._\n\nI remember being somewhat shocked while listening to sermons preached\nby my son, H.W. Beecher. I recall sitting near his pulpit, and longing\nto get up and tell the congregation my views of texts and matters of\nwhich he was discoursing. I thought then it was because the race was\ngoing backward--becoming less intellectual--that men should be content\nto listen to sermons that contained so little theology. But experience\nin spirit life has caused me to change my opinion.\n\nI now see that Beecher, Spurgeon, and a vast host of others, are\nteaching human souls the great truths which will fit them for life\nhereafter. I have done now with endeavoring to solve improbable\nproblems, and with simple faith in man\u2019s efforts for his own\nprogression, I give my testimony as to the uses of the Sabbath, and the\nadvantages of religion in advancing their progress, and in preparing\nthe spirit for its future home.\n\n\n\n\nPROFESSOR GEORGE BUSH.\n\n_LIFE AND MARRIAGE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD_.\n\n\nThe two worlds--the spiritual and the material--are like twin sisters\nwhom I have seen, so similar that their acquaintances could not\ndistinguish between them, and yet so dissimilar that an intimate friend\nwould wonder why one should ever be mistaken for the other.\n\nI propose to give a short account of the society and conditions of life\nin the spiritual spheres.\n\nThe Swedenborgian Society of which I was a member while on earth,\ncontinues to exist as a body in the spirit world, though Swedenborg,\nthe great seer and founder of that sect, is not a leader among them.\nHe has his country seat in Swedenborgia, a beautiful and intellectual\nsettlement named after him, where he retires within himself, and\ndirects his great mind in developing his science of correspondences,\nwhich he proposes to arrange so systematically that it will become a\npart of the teachings of earth\u2019s children.\n\nIt was never his design to become the leader of a sect, but his desire\nwas simply to reveal like a telescope that which was unknown. He is\ndeeply interested in the political condition of Sweden, Norway, and\nGermany, and exerts his vast intellect towards emancipating the minds\nof those nations from the bondage of church and state.\n\nIt is curious to witness with what fidelity Swedenborg described in\nmany instances the condition of the soul after death; and also to\nperceive in other instances how utterly he misinterpreted the visions\npresented.\n\nSuch discrepancies are incidental to all clairvoyant states; and this\nis not surprising, for it is incidental to humanity.\n\nMan sees clearly when the prejudices of education and the influence of\nhis loves do not pervert his vision.\n\nWhat political economist, strongly biased in favor of one mode of\ngovernment, can contemplate dispassionately an opposing form?\n\nThe theological belief which Swedenborg imbibed in his early youth,\ntinctured his description of the heavens and hells of the spirit\nworld, causing him to represent the soul as reaching a period in its\nlove of evil when it cannot retrace its steps. The hells of the spirit\nare similar to the hells of earth, being like them the result of the\nignorance and perverted loves of animal man.\n\nWhat hell more fearful than the hell of licentiousness? Yet it is\nmerely the animal side of the heaven of love.\n\nSwedenborg discovered hells in spiritual existence, where the inmates\nlived lives of prostitution. His statement concerning such hells is\ntrue. Individuals who have lived such lives upon earth cannot suddenly\nbe transformed. Their habits become _spiritual diseases_ with them.\n\nNow, as to marriage, the mere form does not make the wife different\nfrom the courtezan, but her love exalts her above that condition. If\nshe be united to a man who is repulsive to her nature, and yet submits\nto his embraces for the considerations of family, or home, or public\nopinion, she is on the same plane with the courtezan.\n\nIt is a proposition generally believed, that there is a soul-mate\nfor every human being, and it is usually supposed that in the spirit\nworld those mates are found, and that those united there live together\ninseparably. But as there exists in the spirit world the same states,\nthe same variety of progressive development among men and women as\nin this world, so unions are formed there in which one soul develops\nbeyond the capacity of the other, and in such cases changes must ensue.\n\nI will now speak of marriages more in detail.\n\nIn the summer land the union of the man with the woman occurs from\nvery similar causes to those which bring about like unions upon\nearth--the man is drawn to the woman and the woman to the man through\nthe operation of a natural law. If instinct were not so impaired by the\ncultivation of the external faculties, there would arise but little\ndifficulty--on earth in selecting partners adapted to each other.\nConsiderations of wealth and position are permitted to influence your\nselections rather than the idea of congeniality and adaptability.\n\nIn spirit life this method is reversed, and the marriages formed there\nare productive of greater happiness than those among men in the first\ncondition of life.\n\nBut as I have stated, marriage in the spirit world is not an\nindissoluble bond. Some minds associate together in harmony and expand\nin the same direction, and with these the union is permanent. I have\nseen such in the spirit world,--beautiful and noble souls intertwined\nand aspiring together.\n\nThere be others whose states and conditions after a time become\nchanged. Such seek new companions, and this is permitted without\ndiscredit to the individuals.\n\nMany forms of marriage ceremonies are extant in the different societies\nand countries. Garlands of flowers and symphonies of divine music are\nbestowed upon the bride and groom. Bright bands of spirits from the\ncelestial heavens attend them, for they represent in their love and in\ntheir wedded joy the harmonies of nature!\n\nWhile they love, sin, sorrow, darkness, and all evils shrink from sight.\n\nFrom these spiritual marriages are born soul attributes. Human beings\nare never generated in the second condition; they need what is known as\nthe material world for their nurture and growth; and yet I understand\nthat in some of the more refined spiritual existences births have\noccurred. The beings born there are indigenous--not generated by earth\nparents, but offspring of those refined conditions.\n\nI know not of this as a fact; yet if we take the old Jewish Bible as\na history, we find an analogous statement there in the assertion that\nChrist was born of God in a spiritual state of existence previous to\nentering this earth plane.\n\nSpirit soils and atmosphere interblend and produce trees, shrubs,\nflowers, and the cereals, but the human being, after the second birth,\nceases to reproduce his species. His children are thoughts born of the\nspirit. After birth succeeds death. The soul passes through many stages\nof existence in the process of refinement. The next state of existence\nto the material, I term the spiritual, and the one beyond that the\ncelestial, and beyond that the seraphic.\n\nIn the next state, to which I in common with all men who have not\npassed some hundreds of years in the spirit world belong, individuals\npass through a condition analogous to death upon the earth.\n\nSpiritual bodies are subject to a process of refinement and decay; and\nthe soul, as the winged butterfly to which it is likened, throws off\nits cerement and assumes a new form.\n\nBut with us the transmigration is not veiled in darkness and mystery as\nwith you. We can watch the transformation; we can see the spirit emerge\nfrom its old casement more ethereal than ourselves, but still visible;\nand we can hold communion with it.\n\nSo slight is this change with us that your mediums seldom touch upon\nthe fact.\n\nSpirit is inseparable from matter, and can give neither form nor\nexpression without it.\n\nThe Great Invisible Creator of the Universe must have thought of trees,\nflowers, beasts, birds, fish, and the wonderful exhibitions of form\nthrough the vast realm of matter, previous to their existence.\n\nBut he had to give them shape in matter--perishable but re-creative\nmatter; and if the Master-mind of all cannot express his thought\notherwise than with this ever changing, yet ever reconstructing\nthing called matter, how can the human soul manifest but through a\nspiritualized condition of matter, ever changing yet ever re-creating\nand refining, mounting higher and higher, from the earthly to the\nspiritual, from the spiritual-to the celestial, on--on--till finally\nreaches Deity--himself!\n\n\n\n\nJUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH\n\n_ACTING_.\n\n\nAll great actors are media for spirit influx. It would be a marvellous\nsight if the curtain which hangs between the spirit world and the stage\nwere uplifted, and the invisible drama which is being enacted exposed\nto view. Then would you behold \u201cthe airy spirits\u201d to whom Shakspeare\nso truthfully alludes, moving like comets in gorgeous light around the\ninspired actor!\n\nInspiration is _motion, acceleration, intensity_; it has no part or\nparcel with lethargy.\n\nI recall my past experience, portions of which I review with regret. In\nendeavoring to obtain this energy, this motion, this acceleration, I\nwas obliged in my ignorance to resort to artificial means. A knowledge\nof the laws of spirit life would have enabled me to have avoided this\nmistake; but that knowledge I did not possess.\n\nThe actor of the present day is blessed with the knowledge that he\nhas merely to throw himself into the magnetic state, and become _en\nrapport_ with spiritual conditions, to find himself inspired--inflated\nwith the divine magnetic current which flows from the spirit world to\nthe inhabitants of earth. If a player desires to represent a certain\ncharacter,--let it be the subtle, fiend-like Richard III. or the\ncrafty Richelieu,--the customary mode of studying such characters is\nto endeavor to imagine one\u2019s self to be the person. That is the first\nstep towards mediumship; for it is one degree from the natural, towards\nthe superior state. Usually, through ignorance, the student proceeds no\nfurther than this point; and the spirit assistants can only partially\naid him. But an actor possessing the knowledge of placing himself\n_en rapport_ with these characters, whether traditional or real, is\nimmediately cut loose from his surroundings and becomes the Richard or\nRichelieu whom he would personate.\n\nFrom the brain of every spirit medium ascends a blazing sun, which\nburns the brighter when the magnetic relations between it and the\nspirit world are most perfect. This blazing light, this radiant\neffulgence, is perceived instinctively, though not knowingly, by every\nindividual who listens to a discourse from a \u201ctrance medium.\u201d So\nfrom the brain of the actor this glorious light throws out its rays\ninto the assembly, and when he becomes fully inspired, its magnetic\ninfluence is felt with overpowering vividness; and the result is, the\naudience themselves are set in motion, and from pit to gallery you hear\nvociferous applause.\n\nThere are actors who are good, and who acquire fame, who have never\nfelt this divine afilatus. The intellect of the audience appreciates\nthem for their declamation, for the art and artifice which they\nmanifest; but the humblest and most illiterate of that assembly know\nwell that this studied eloquence does not fire the brain.\n\nBut it will not do to trust blindly to spirit control; a knowledge and\nconstant study of human nature is necessary.\n\nIt is a well-known fact that a person steadily looking at one point\nwill influence twenty others to look at that point also, and to imagine\nthey see some object before them. Understanding this principle, you may\nwork upon each attribute in the minds of your audience. If fear is to\nbe aroused, do as your neighbor does as he hastily enters your house\nafter meeting with a fearful calamity. You become excited before even\nhearing the evil which has befallen him. Every faculty can be acted\nupon in the same manner--grief and joy alike.\n\nOf the ventriloquial powers of the human voice, many speakers are\nignorant. The tyro on the stage wishing to make the remotest individual\nin his audience hear, bawls at the top of his lungs. He is unaware\nthat the organs of the human voice are a kind of electrical machine,\ngoverned by the will-power, and that the actor has merely to throw his\nwill and direct his mind to a given point, for his voice to reach that\npoint and produce a far more startling effect than the loudest blast\nthat any pair of lungs could bring forth. Thus the lowest whisper can\nbe made to tell at the farthest corner of the theatre.\n\nBut perhaps I have said enough of the methods best adapted to produce\nrepresentations of character on the stage. The question may arise in\nthe mind of the reader, whether there is any opportunity of exercising\nthe talent of acting in the spirit world, supposing that talent to have\nbeen cultivated in this.\n\nIn the remotest ages, and among the most uncultivated nations, as well\nas among the most highly civilized, the power of representing human\npassions and events has been exercised instinctively, showing this\npower to be as much a portion of the soul\u2019s attributes as the gift of\nthought or of fancy. If one belongs to the immortal condition, the\nother does also.\n\nOne of the chief enjoyments which the all-wise Creator has made\nattainable to the inhabitants of the starry heavens is that of dramatic\nrepresentations of life, character, and events, transpiring in the\ncountless worlds that wheel through space.\n\nThe field of the actor for depicting the truths of human nature in the\nworld of spirits is vast and unconfined!\n\nEloquence is appreciated on earth, but that appreciation is weak and\ntasteless compared with the estimation of that \u201cgift of the gods\u201d by\nthe inhabitants of the summer land.\n\nSome blind, short-sighted investigators tell you there is no speech\namong us; they would lead you to imagine that we inhabit a world blank\nand void of sound; that stillness more unbroken than the grave pervades\nour mysterious realm.\n\nConjure up the picture in your fancy, reader--the soul shrinks back\nfrom such a state! The spirit world is _all_ voice. Never have I heard\nnotes clearer, louder, deeper, than resound through the electric air\nthat surrounds my home.\n\nThe gift of speaking, and of representing individualities separate from\nyour own identity, is a spiritual gift decidedly; and with us theatres\nand amphitheatres are as numerous as churches are with you. I will\nleave the description of these structures for the ready pen and speech\nof our friend Burton.\n\n\n\n\nJOHN WESLEY.\n\n\u201c_THE DIVISION OF THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, INTO SEVERAL BODIES, AND ITS\nRE-ORGANIZATION INTO ONE GENERAL BODY.\u201d_\n\n\nI will take for my text this sentiment from the New Testament: \u201cI will\ndraw all men unto me, and there shall be one church and one people.\u201d\n\nThe church which was organized by our Lord[A] Jesus Christ was designed\nto establish a feeling of brotherhood between separate and distinct\nclasses of people, and to abolish the system of castes, which was the\nprevailing sin of the eastern nations.\n\n[Footnote A: The word \u201cLord\u201d is used in the sense of an earthly lord\nwho cares for his people.]\n\nChrist made no distinction between the Sadducee and the Pharisee, the\npublican and the saint, the high priest of the temple and the lowliest\nof his followers. He placed the affections above the intellect, truth\nand sincerity above wealth and worldly position.\n\nThe church which he originated for many years followed in his\nfootsteps. But as it increased in numbers it accumulated wealth,\nand with wealth came power, and from that power issued discord and\nseparation.\n\nThus, the church divided and subdivided, and split into a thousand\npieces, formed new interests, created new beliefs, and sowed dissension\nand envy with a free hand.\n\nSuch has been the condition of the church for the past ten or twelve\ncenturies. Meanwhile, in the Heaven of Heavens, has arisen a powerful\nmovement directed towards restoring it to its original state of purity\nand simplicity. This great movement, like a mighty river seeking its\noutlet, has rushed on, diverging at several points, and at length found\nthe reservoir it sought in what is termed _Spiritualism_.\n\nThe spiritualistic movement opened the gates for the expression of\nskepticism, which the formalism, the tyranny, bigotry, and externalism\nof the Church awakened in the minds of the people of every enlightened\nChristian nation; and the result has been a criticism so pungent, and\nan examination so thorough and direct, into the deformities of the\nChurch, that she has been obliged to contemplate her own condition and\nthe rottenness of her position, until she fairly trembles at the view\nof her disjointed parts.\n\nOn every hand now, at the present moment, efforts are being made to\nconsolidate--to rejoin. On one side you behold the Protestant Episcopal\nChurch offering to unite with the Methodists, from whom, since my day,\nthey have stood aloof, as an illegal and fanatical people whom they\ncould not fellowship.\n\nOn the other side, you see them stretching to the Roman Church, forming\na brotherly compact of forms and ceremonies with Papacy.\n\nOne branch of the Presbyterian Church wears the robes of the Roman\nChurch, and thus that is linked to Catholicism.\n\nAll these denominations which have stood apart so long, whose theology\nhas been so antagonistic, are now merging into one Church.\n\nIn the face of the great danger which Spiritualism or Liberalism has\nbrought to their sight, they endeavor to return to their first estate,\nbut in returning they lose their identity.\n\nThis result is sure, though unperceived by them.\n\nOne by one, they will give up this point of difference and that point\nof difference, this creed and that creed, for the sake of harmony.\nThis vestment they lay aside, and that form, until they will all\nbe swallowed up, and neither Methodists nor Calvinists, Baptists\nnor Lutherans, Armenians, Jews, nor Gentiles, will remain. Then the\nprimitive Church of Christ will be revived again upon earth, simple and\nunostentatious; its creed will be the creed of Jesus Christ:\n\n\u201cThe brotherhood of man, and the love of God for his children.\u201d\n\nThis creed, you perceive, embraces the whole of the spiritualistic\nfaith, which is causing these great changes throughout the Church of\nChrist on earth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt this point it will not be inappropriate to make some allusion to the\nmysterious sounds which occurred in my house in Lincolnshire, England,\nat intervals within the space of three or more years during my earthly\nministrations.\n\nThese mysterious sounds, even in that day, were supposed to have been\ncaused by spirit agency. I have ascertained that that supposition\nwas correct; and my attention has since been directed to the fact in\nChurch history, that every separation from the Church body which has\noriginated in a desire to return to the simplicity and purity of the\nprimitive followers of Jesus, has been attended by similar mysterious\ndemonstrations.\n\nLuther and Mclancthon, Knox and Calvin, and the earnest dissenters\nand reformers of every age, have been haunted in like manner. I say\nhaunted, for they generally have misunderstood the aim of these\nspiritual visitants.[A] It has devolved upon the scientific researches\nand the skeptical but investigating mind of the nineteenth century to\nform a process by which the spirit of the departed can communicate with\nthe dwellers in Time.\n\n[Footnote A: The spirit of Rev. Dr. John M. Krebbs, of New York, states\nthrough this clairvoyant that the cause of his mental aberration while\non earth was a misinterpretation by him of a spiritual vision which\nhe was permitted to receive. Thus misunderstanding the aim of his\nspiritual visitants, he became haunted with a fallacy which ultimated\nin his death. ED.]\n\nTo me this science was unknown. Had I been acquainted with the facts\nwith which I am now familiar, I might have established a more liberal\nChurch, but as it was, this daily association with an unseen spiritual\npresence enlarged my views of the condition attending the soul after\ndeath, and caused me to give utterance to thoughts which happily have\naided in preparing the world for the Universal Church which ere long\nwill lift its towering dome toward Heaven.\n\n\n\n\nN.P. WILLIS.\n\n_A SPIRIT REVISITING EARTH_.\n\n(A FRAGMENT.)\n\n\n                      How wondrous I\nThrough illimitable space, where myriad suns\nAnd systems roll their mighty orbs,\nThe spirit moves like some strange wingless bird,\nDarting through space with rapid flight\nUntil he nears his native home,\nThe earth.\n\n                His home no longer;\nHe has become the denizen of a world\nMore rare and beautiful than earth.\nWith quickening pulse and grand emotion\nHe gazes down upon the globe,\nWhose habitations he has left forever!\nCities with their palaces and towers,\nSurging seas, leafy forests, and fields of grain,\nThe towering mountain and the massy\nIcebergs of the Polar sea sweep past\nHis sight like fading visions.\n\n\n\n\nALLAN CUNNINGHAM.\n\n_ALONE_.\n\n\nFar away from earthly care,\nFree as a bird, I soar through air,\nAnd think of thee in thy sad, lonely home,\nWatching and waiting for thy love to come.\nDost thou hear me call thee, Sweet! Sweet!\nMany the years till we shall meet.\n\nMy spirit home is bright and fair\nWith flowers and birds and wonders rare.\nSeraphic the faces that on me smile,\nBut the one I love is on earth the while,\nWill she hear me calling, Sweet! Sweet!\nMany the years till we shall meet.\n\nMany the years I\u2019ll watch and wait\nTill I see thee at the golden gate,\nThen in my arms will I bear thee away\nTo my jewelled home where sunbeams play.\nThen together we\u2019ll sing, Sweet! Sweet!\nWell worth the waiting thus to meet.\n\n\n\n\nBARON VON HUMBOLDT.\n\n_THE EARTHQUAKE_.\n\n\nThis mysterious and awful visitant, which convulses the earth\napparently without warning, is, however, like all the manifestations\nof nature, preceded by signs which the observing and understanding eye\ncan perceive and calculate upon as unerringly as the astronomer can\ndetermine the approach of a comet.\n\nThe inhabitable earth is merely a shell or crust over the great mass\nof uninhabitable matter. The world beneath the earth\u2019s surface is as\ndiversified as the world above. It has its mountains, its streams, its\nplains, its caverns, and its internal volcanoes.\n\nAs fearful storms, accompanied by lightning and rumbling thunder, sweep\nover the earth\u2019s surface, so beneath the crust occur electric storms,\naccompanied with terrific combustions of gases, which in their efforts\nto escape convulse the outer earth, and in many cases rend the shell\nasunder.\n\nThe earthquake which has recently (August 13, 14, 15, and 16, 1868)\nshaken the Pacific coast was occasioned by the discharge of the pent-up\ngases beneath, and also in part by the heated condition of the outer\nsurface.\n\nThe \u201ctidal phenomenon,\u201d as it is called, is the effect of the\nelectrical condition of the earth beneath. The chemical components of\nthe sea form a sensitive magnetic body, which is subject to attraction\nand repulsion, and as the magnetic current extended for several\nthousands of miles, and was caused by a collision of negative and\npositive forces, the sea was attracted and repulsed along the whole\nline of the internal commotion by the action of these forces.\n\nThe northern portion of this globe has in times past suffered from\nconvulsions similar to those which now visit the tropical climates.\n\nThe fearful privations and heart-rending calamities which visited the\nearlier inhabitants of the earth are only known to the student of the\ncosmos of nature after he has attained the second birth.\n\nThe forces within and around the earth are now in comparative\nsubjugation, but in the earlier periods of its existence, while still\nit was in the process of changing from a state adapted to a lower\ncondition of animal life to one fitted to a higher state of animal\nand intellectual existence, the elements were in a frequent state of\nrupture and disorder.\n\nNo mortal pen can depict the scene which I recently witnessed on the\noccurrence of the earthquake on the Pacific coast. Forty thousand souls\narising amid smoke and blackened clouds of flying stones and upheaving\nearth, with outstretched arms, and faces strained with horror, emerging\nsuddenly from their old bodies into their spirit-forms--looking\nawestruck into each other\u2019s faces; a vast swarm clinging together\nalmost as helplessly as young bees to their hive--suddenly cut off from\ntheir occupations and their pleasures, their homes, and their familiar\naffairs of earth!\n\nBut what they experienced, proud and noble cities of the past have\nexperienced likewise. Grace and ornament, art and grandeur, beauty,\nlove, and manly strength have been swept away time and again by the\nbursting of the treacherous doors that lead into the heart of the earth!\n\nChange marks the footsteps of the Creator. The solid mountain, the\nfirm, unyielding earth, which to the unthinking mind seem durable and\neternal in their strength, like mankind carry within themselves the\nseeds of their own dissolution.\n\nYet the day will come when man, by the aid of science, will, through\nthese premonitory symptoms, foresee the coming events, even as the wise\nphysician can discern the time when his patient\u2019s soul will leave its\nbody.\n\nNature misunderstood is a fearful mystery; but understood, she is a\nsimple and beautiful piece of mechanism; and the earthquake may not\nbe more disastrous than the flood or the avalanche when science and\nexperience have taught men to avoid the localities of danger, and to\nwatch the hour of its approach, that they may flee before it.\n\nNature is never abrupt in her actions. She heralds her intentions\nlong before she enacts them, but as it requires the quick ear of the\nsavage--the child of nature--to detect the far-off prey, so it requires\nthe student of nature to discover the distant tread of the earthquake.\n\n\n\n\nSIR DAVID BREWSTER\n\n_NATURALNESS OF SPIRIT LIFE_.\n\n\nThe human mind is subject to false and specious reasoning, and time\nafter time opinions which have been held and argued upon with seeming\nlogical acumen, have, by further developments and discoveries, been\nproven fallacious. And yet of so elastic a nature is the mind of man\nthat he is not crushed nor discouraged by his mistakes, but immediately\ncommences to build new theories; but as he establishes them by\nspecialties instead of generalities, he is again defeated.\n\nThe European mind has adopted a certain line of thought respecting the\nfuture state of existence, which it substantiates by narrow reasonings\nand isolated facts.\n\nOf the future we can only judge by analogy of the past with the present.\n\nNature ever shadows forth her new developments upon the old.\n\nThe many periods or stages through which the earth has passed in\nreaching her present state of refinement, have been stamped one upon\nthe other so that the Geologist can determine definitely what would\nbe the result of a certain period from the characteristics of the\nforegoing.\n\nNow it is educible: if the Creator of the race of men who inhabit the\nterrestrial globe had intended for them a future state or destination\ndiffering in every respect from their present one, he would have\nprepared their minds for different pursuits, and ordained them for\nother occupations than those they follow to the very grave.\n\nTake man in his most natural condition--examine those nations that are\nmost ancient, and unmixed with other races--and you will perceive that\ntheir ideas of a future state were in accordance with the life they\nwere living on earth.\n\nThe Asiatic race in burying its dead prepares the favorite food of the\ndeceased, the fragrant tea, and the money so useful on earth. Also\nslips of paper on which messages are written to departed friends are\nlighted at these burial ceremonies, and reduced to ashes, that the\nspirit of the text may be transmitted to their friends in the world of\nsouls.\n\nIn these \u201cPagan rites,\u201d as they are termed, we discern the workings\nof an intuitive belief that the spirit of man still retains the\nsensations, attributes, and desires which have accompanied it through\nlife.\n\nThe ancient Greeks and Romans held similar opinions, likewise the\nAfricans, Hindoos, and the Indians of North and South America.\n\nBy far the largest portion of mankind believe in a _natural state_\nhereafter, corresponding to their earth existence, but the European\nnations which are supposed to be advanced in science, art, and\nphilosophical attainments beyond all the nations of the earth, have,\nin their speculations and in their efforts to penetrate the mysteries\nof the world of spirits, lost sight, of the natural and entered\nthe supernatural, where they are surrounded by fogs, clouds, and\n_ignes-fatui._\n\nNow if these people are told that the spirit world is divided into\nstates and continents, cities and towns, as is their own world (though\nunder spirit appellations), they would scoff at the statement.\n\nBut as mankind has a natural love of locality, and as congenial minds\nwill select similar locations, adapted to their ideas of beauty and\ncomfort, the result is that spirit inhabitants unite and form cities\nand towns as on earth. Thus combining, they must have some points of\ninterest to occupy their minds, and as they still possess their power\nof construction and ingenuity, their love of beautiful forms and of\narchitecture, they prefer not to live in the open air and on the bare\nground (as they can certainly do), but choose rather to employ their\nvarious faculties in building cities and habitations in accordance with\ntheir tastes and ideas of convenience.\n\nOnce grant that man is provided with a spiritual body after he emerges\nfrom his original one--accept the hypothesis that this body must\npossess form and sensation, and with sensation, eyes, ears, mouth,\ntaste, and motion--then you must provide means for that body to exist.\nIn providing these means you must place him upon a soil capable of\nproducing vegetation, where his intelligence may compound the various\narticles adapted to his use.\n\nSome individuals enter the spirit world deformed, some feeble in\nintellect, some incapable of constructing or arranging. All these must\nhave provision made for them; their wants must be supplied. The effort\nto supply want or demand produces a system of exchange or barter.\n\nMany of the inhabitants of the spirit world are both good and kind.\nThey are spiritualized in their natures, and are influenced by a desire\nto assist those who are needy.\n\nNature, or God, has ordained that existence should depend upon effort;\nthat a state of inactivity should produce dissolution; and much the\nsame means are taken there to enforce activity as in the material world.\n\nTrue, some men possess natural gifts, by which knowledge is acquired\nwithout labor. The power of seeing before the demonstration belongs\nto all humanity. It is the negative form of knowledge; but combined\nwith that power is the positive, which compels man to desire a visible\nrepresentation or demonstration of the knowledge he has received by\nintuition.\n\nThe astronomer thus, before he constructs his telescope, perceives\nintuitively the very stars which his telescope proves as existing,\nwhere none are visible to the eye.\n\nIt was this active-positive principle, that made him construct the\ninstrument; and in the spirit world, as on earth, that active-positive\nprinciple acts in conjunction with the negative-intuitive one, in\nimpelling him to exertion, and forcing him to acquire knowledge in\nevery department of science, art, philosophy and religion. As well\nexpect this earth to rest in her revolution and still retain her place\nin the solar system, as to suppose that the spirit of man can lose its\nactivity and sink to rest eternal.\n\nMan is not only active in constructing and exploring in the spirit\nworld, but he is also engaged in inventions. Most of the discoveries\nthat have lessened manual labor and made gross matter subservient to\nman\u2019s use originated in the land of spirits. The inventor finds full\nfield for his talents in the superior state.\n\nMan naturally delights in knowledge, and the individual who knows\nhow to construct a steam locomotive finds a thrill of satisfaction\nin the possession of that ability. So does he who can arrange and\nconstruct any piece of mechanism, any domestic tool. That feeling of\ngratification at the accomplishment of his plans accompanies man to the\nspirit life.\n\nAll persons do not follow the same pursuits in which they were engaged\non earth, yet they adopt a kindred and congenial employment. The\nclergyman thinks his work done when he leaves the earth; but in the\nnext state, also, he will find beings who need to have their spiritual\nand moral natures instructed--men who desire to be led--who cannot\nthink for themselves, but lean upon the thoughts and inferences of\nothers.\n\nSo with almost every pursuit--there is opportunity to exercise it in\nthe world of spirits. The painter finds nobler themes for his pencil,\nmore angelic faces for his canvas; and the desire to reproduce them\nas they appear is as intense there as it is here. Although a spirit\ncan impress his form in color and raiment upon the sensitive plate in\nthe spirit world, and the image remains fixed and permanent (for the\nphotographic art is essentially spiritual in its origin), that result\nthough definite, is as unsatisfactory to some minds in the spirit\nworld as it is in the natural. And thus, while persons differ in\ntheir desires and perceptions, there will be the same varied modes of\nexpressing thought in the superior life as in this.\n\nThe question is often asked, \u201cWhy should immortals walk, when they can\nmove with greater velocity than light?\u201d\n\nIn return I would inquire, \u201cWhy, when men can travel by the\nsteam-engine, do they prefer the slow movements of the horse?\u201d\n\nAgain, it is asked, \u201cWhy, if spirits can converse by\nthought-language--if they can express with their eyes, or impress\nmagnetically their wishes, or the words they desire to utter--why\nshould they employ their vocal organs?\u201d\n\nBut I rejoin that the deaf and dumb on earth converse by signs with\ngreat celerity, yet would gladly express their thoughts with voice also.\n\nMany trancendentalists and idealists fancy that the inhabitants of the\nspirit world do not converse audibly; yet they would be greatly shocked\nif told that in that world there reigned one vast silence; that sound\nwas unknown; and yet such a condition would exist, if their mode of\nreasoning were correct.\n\nNo unbiased person would suppose for a moment, that song was unheard\nin this land of the immortals; that the voices of the spirit maidens\nnever burst forth into melody; and that they could not give utterance\nto their feelings and sentiments, in the warbling notes of music!\n\nSpirits can read each other\u2019s thoughts, although possessing a universal\nspoken language, and also retaining in many sections the native dialect\nthey used on earth.\n\nThough the spirit world is a world of marvels and miracles, and things\nunutterable, which the tongue cannot express, yet it is a world similar\nto the natural one; a glorified body of the old earth.\n\nThe soul visiting that new country will not feel itself an utter\nstranger on its shore, but will find that it can assimilate with the\nthoughts and feelings of the residents of that land, and the knowledge\nand experience which it developed on earth will be useful to it there.\n\nIf the teachers on your planet, and those who instruct concerning the\ncondition of the soul after death, would employ the same reason and\nintelligence that they exercise in investigating any other obscure\nsubjects--either chemistry, astronomy, or natural philosophy,--they\nwould arrive at more truthful data respecting the spirit globe which\nultimately they are all destined to inhabit.\n\n\n\n\nH.T. BUCKLE.\n\n_THE MORMONS_.\n\n\nLooking upon the world, the voyager through space discerns vast tracts\nof land, uninhabited barren wastes, and immense forests echoing only\nthe tread of the wild beast and the cries of birds of prey.\n\nIt becomes the duty of the political economist to reclaim these lands\nand place them in the hands of civilization.\n\nHow is this to be done? Shall it be by following in the beaten track of\ncustom? No: it can only be accomplished by the zeal of the enthusiast.\n\nJoe Smith was an inspired man; even as Columbus was he inspired.\nThrough his agency a colony was started near the dismal Salt Lake.\nThrough his agency, and by the aid of his apostles or followers,\nthe hardy men and women from the overcrowded population of Europe,\ncramped by man, and priest-ridden, have been brought across the ocean\ninto republican America. They have been placed in this seemingly\nunpropitious Salt Lake country. There they have founded a city; they\nhave erected factories and mills. The steam engine, the plow, and the\nsewing machine have aided them; and now, in place of a company of\nbarbarous peasants, ignorant and benighted, and steeped in poverty, you\nfind them transformed into energetic, intelligent citizens, surrounded\nwith comforts and luxuries.\n\nAnd all this has been brought about by a religious enthusiast; by an\nenthusiast whose religion is believed to be inferior to the religion of\nProtestants.\n\nImagine for a moment what result would ensue from a movement of this\nkind set on foot by the followers of the Protestant religion as it is\ntaught by the churches of the present day. No theatres or places of\namusement would add gayety to the sombre city. The dance and the sound\nof mirth would be hushed. The inhabitants would walk ever in solemn\nfear of the awful future that might await them; they would despise\ntheir physical frames, crucify their passions, and trample under foot\nthe most divine attributes of their nature.\n\nBut the religion of the Mormons is a natural religion; it is primitive.\nThey people the world even as God peopled it in the time of Abraham and\nIsaac.\n\nThey enrich the state by their tithes. They bring in their corn, their\nwine, and their fruits, as offerings, and the state pays them back by\nimproving their roads and building houses for instruction and pleasure\nfor them.\n\nTheir domestic system, which has been so much despised and ridiculed,\ndoes not greatly differ from the custom of the civilized world. Such as\nare wives with them become with you the neglected women of the town.\nWhat with you is considered dishonorable, with them becomes honorable.\n\nThe man of wealth in Utah does not concentrate his riches on a few\nrelatives; he distributes it among his many wives and numerous\nchildren. In all times, nations which have grown rapidly and have been\ndeveloped in arts and sciences have been peopled in the same manner.\nThe female element introduces into a community taste, ornament, and\ngrace. Look at California previous to the emigration of women to that\nland! Misrule and misery reigned. It is a law of nature that men\nand women should be united. In the present form of civilization, a\nlarge proportion of women are compelled to remain single, and their\nusefulness to community and humanity is dissipated. The Mormon system\neradicates this evil.\n\nThe progress of civilization points to a time when a magnetic relation\nshall be established between all the inhabitants of earth; when the\nglobe shall form one vast circle of mind as it does now of matter. At\npresent the chain is broken; the intermediate spaces are not filled\nup by population. The spirit world is using all its skill to bring\nabout this magnetic connection, but till this is complete the magnetic\nrelation between the spirit world and earth cannot be perfect.\n\nWise intelligences in the world of spirits have originated and\nguided the Mormon movement, and these intelligences will develop new\ncommunities under similar auspices. The legislators of the land, the\nNapoleons of the day, would do well to investigate the policy of the\nleaders of Utah.\n\nThe crimes common in your large cities are not known among the Mormons.\nThey live on friendly terms with the red men of the plains, and are\njust in their dealings.\n\nEach citizen is taught that the public welfare is his own welfare. In\nyour own large towns the citizens shirk public duties; but in Utah\nthere is a oneness of feeling, which it would be well for those who\nconsider themselves superior in the scale of civilization to imitate.\n\n\n\n\nW. E. BURTON.\n\n_DRAMA IN SPIRIT LIFE_.\n\n\n\u201cHonor pricks me on. Yea; but how if honor pricks me off when I come\non? How then? Can honor set-to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away\nthe grief of a wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery, then? No.\nWhat is honor? A word. What is that word, honor? Air. A trim reckoning!\nWho hath it? He that died o\u2019 Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he\nhear it? No. Is it insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not\nlive with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it.\u201d\n\nWhat is honor? A mere word. What is Heaven? A word--a phantasy. A\nvaporish place, too delicate and subtle for such fun-loving, corpulent\nspecimens of the Creator\u2019s wisdom as old Jack Falstaff.\n\nO rare Jack Falstaff! He was a child of nature, and to my thinking, his\nhomely phrases displayed more intuitive knowledge of the laws of nature\nthan the finest transcendental imaginings ever discovered.\n\nWe shock the feelings of a thousand playwrights and play-goers by\nasserting that in this impalpable land of souls we are guilty of\nencouraging the playhouse! But so it is; we cannot live on \u201chonors;\u201d\nthe fame and glory which has been awarded to us by our fellow-men on\nearth is like chaff to us.\n\nIt was with hardly an emotion of surprise that I beheld theatres in\nthe spirit land, though I have seen many who, having been fed on the\nfalse system of religion, and pampered on glittering imaginings, start\nback with alarm on beholding the magnificent buildings we have erected\nto the drama, thinking, that by some strange turning, they had entered\nthrough the wrong gate.\n\nThe drama with us is a source of both enjoyment and instruction. The\nhistory of past ages in the spirit world is enacted with thrilling\ninterest, and each new spirit from earth has an opportunity thus to\nbecome acquainted with the transactions of the past in the land of\nspirits.\n\nThe gay and brilliant theatre of which I have been induced to take the\nmanagement, is original in its structure, and of a light and beautiful\nstyle of architecture. The balconies are suspended and movable. Outside\nthe building, and overlooking a placid sheet of water, are galleries\nconnected with and corresponding to those within, where persons who\ndesire may pass out during intermission, and regale themselves with the\nfresh fruit and the fine prospect.\n\nThe partitions are constructed of light frames with ornamented pillars,\ncovered with a fabric resembling parchment. As the climate is warm, the\npartitions on the outside of the gallery are merely trellis-screens,\nand the whole building is open in structure and perfectly ventilated.\n\nThe plays which are enacted are generally composed by persons in the\nspiritual condition. We have many good farces; and an unending source\nof material for amusing plays is found in the relationship between\nthe spirit world and earth, and the eccentric conditions growing out\nof that relationship. For instance, there is a laughable comedy being\nenacted at my theatre, depicting the adventures of a pious merchant,\nwho, after the toils and cares of life, becomes a resident of the\nspirit world.\n\nThe graces and beauties of the angelic women whom he meets on every\nside enamour him; he forgets his past life, forgets the wife who has\nruled him on earth, and in a moment of ecstasy chooses another mate.\n\nWhile in the enjoyment of his bliss, and surrounded by bands of\nimmortals, the news runs through the electric wire that his earth-wife\nis deceased, and has come in search of him. The consternation and fear\nof the poor man furnishes ample occasion for amusement, hilarity, and\nfellow-sympathy.\n\nOur tragedies are cast in a higher mould; many of them are more sublime\nthan those of earth, representing the catastrophes of worlds. We also\nhave dramas which awaken the affections, representing the condition of\nthose from earth who are neglected, or who, in consequence of a long\ncareer of vice and misery, cannot be approached by friends.\n\nThese brief hints will give a slight idea of the source and character\nof our dramatic representations.\n\nSome men are born actors, as others are born painters, poets or\npreachers; and in the spirit world they can no more lay aside those\npowers which have become a part of them, than they can lay aside the\ngifts of observation or reflection. Understanding this fact, it will\nnot surprise you to learn that those most famous in the histrionic art\nexercise their talents to listening thousands in the spirit world.\n\nGarrick, Kemble, Kean, Booth, Cooke, also Rachel, Mrs. Siddons, and a\nhost of illustrious actors of different nations, are now \u201ctreading the\nboards\u201d of spiritual theatres.\n\nTheir time, however, is not exclusively devoted to the exercise of\nthese gifts, as on earth. A considerable portion is spent in the study\nof the arts and sciences; and many a noted actor becomes an able\npainter or musician, and many a low comedian a philosopher. Our life is\none round of pleasant progression.\n\nWhat I have said about our attractive theatre and my enjoyable\ncondition, I hope will not induce any of you, my fellow-players, to\nemigrate to these shores before you are sent for; but, like good Jack\nFalstaff, I trust you will live in your own world as long as you can,\nand when Dame Nature is done with you, we will give you a hearty\nwelcome and _a free pass to the dress circle_.\n\n\n\n\nCHARLES L. ELLIOTT.\n\n_PAINTING IN SPIRIT LIFE_.\n\n\nMy friends know that I was not much given to writing or speaking, and I\nreluctantly answer the call that has been made for me to give my views\non art in the spirit existence.\n\nThe old masters whom we have worshipped from boyhood, Raphael,\nTitian, Michael Angelo, Da Vinci, and all the illustrious names of\nthe Bolognese and Venetian schools of art, have passed away from\nthis sphere of spirit life, and no longer walk the streets of these\nwonderful cities which they have adorned with their works.\n\nReynolds, however, is with us still, and most of the army of painters\nwho have been born on earth since his day, here live in bodily shape;\nand I have had the pleasure of meeting many admirable geniuses of\nthe French, German, and English schools, and have seen some of their\nextraordinary works, which, for diversity of subject and majesty of\nconception, seem to rival omnipotence itself!\n\nThe great majority of American artists are secretly spiritualistic\nin their faith, and believe that they can be inspired by departed\npainters. Innes, Page, Church, and Powers, have each felt and\nacknowledged the inspiration of the spirit of some great master in art.\n\nI must confess that these masters are not existing in the sphere\noccupied by spirits who visit earth, and will explain the manner in\nwhich they impress persons congenial and partaking of like sympathies\nwith themselves.\n\nI am informed that it is not material to what sublimated sphere they\nmay have ascended; it is merely a mesmeric influence which they exert\nover their disciples, and this influence can penetrate through all\ndegrees of matter.\n\nThe reason why all artists are not alike inspired by the great masters\nis that they are not all subject to mesmeric influence, or on the same\nplane of thought.\n\nEvery disciple of high art, I have no doubt, has observed the magnetic\nquality which seems to pour forth from the canvas of any great master.\n\nThis arises from the brain effluvia which they have left upon the\ncanvas, which is more powerful in its quality than a grain of musk,\nwhich will impart its odor for a hundred years.\n\nThe colors which the artists here use are formed upon the same model\nas those they have been in the habit of using on earth. They are more\nbrilliant pigments, but color has always the same origin. Some paint\nwith the brush and some paint with their fingers.\n\nI had heard it remarked that the spirit had only to breathe on the\ncanvas, and his thought would be represented, painted, and shaded in a\nsecond of time.\n\nThe substance of this statement is correct, but there is a slight\nmisapplication of the facts.\n\n\u2019Tis true we have the power which we had on earth to a modified degree,\nof projecting the desired form upon the canvas. I remember always,\nafter looking at my sitter, I could trace in imagination on the canvas\nthe outline and expression of his countenance. This is what we do: the\npower of execution is so rapid that the time required for painting a\npicture might with you pass for a moment; but it is only a trained\nartist whose thoughts and comprehension are skilful enough to produce\nan effect so rapidly.\n\nThose who have not learned to give form and shape to their ideas while\non earth have to pursue a more painful and laborious process.\n\nThe modern school of color differs widely from the Venetian, being\ncrude, cold, and sharp in comparison; and, in accounting for this\ndifference, I can simply state that one can only represent what one\nsees.\n\nThe poetic, dreamy age, when men saw nature as through a veil, is past;\nthe matter-of-fact, investigating mind has lifted that veil, and now\nsees objects as if in mid-day; but, as no condition is stationary, I\nam told that the mind is gradually moving on in the world of art to a\npoint where it will again see nature in a more subdued and generalized\nlight, as under the declining sun.\n\nThe past represented the morning, the present exhibits the noonday, and\nthe future will indicate the evening.\n\nSuch is the constant revolution of mind, and its revolution though slow\nis certain.\n\nIn our works of art, sentiment is the prevailing characteristic.\nPortraits are in great demand.\n\nSpirits send portrait-painters to earth to obtain likenesses of their\nfriends; and those spirit-artists who have the power of seeing the\nlineaments of these friends and portraying them are constantly engaged.\n\nLeutze has been employed by Lincoln and others to represent scenes in\nthe American rebellion; and Colonel Trumbull, also, has executed some\nmagnificent pictures of the battles of Seven Pines, Fair Oaks, and a\nskirmish at Hampton Roads.\n\nStuart has completed a splendid portrait of General Grant, and is now\nengaged by John Jacob Astor on a likeness of a beautiful lady dwelling\non earth. I have received a commission from Mr. James Harper to paint\na portrait of his daughter, who occupied the carriage with him when he\nlost his life. I am at present engaged on a likeness of a lady residing\nat Albany.\n\n\n\n\nCOMEDIAN\u2019S POETRY.\n\n_ROLLICKING SONG_.\n\n\nHurrah! hurrah I my boys so bright,\nFor merry ghosts meet here to-night.\nWe\u2019ll sing and dance till dawn of day,\nThen up we\u2019ll mount, away! away!\n  Then up, up, and away!\n\nWe live in spirit land so gay,\nAnd with grim Satan\u2019s fires we play.\nYou need not fear the future state,\nFor we will meet you at the gate.\n  Then up, up, and away!\n\nCome, friends of earth, and read our bill,\n\u2019Tis called the \u201csugar-coated pill;\u201d\n\u2019Twill sweeten all life\u2019s bitter care,\nAnd lead you up, the saints know where,\n  Then up, up, and away!\n\nCome laugh with us each man and wife;\nA player\u2019s stage is earthly life;\nThe sting of death is only a prick,\nAnd _hell_ the parson\u2019s \u201c_trap-door trick_,\u201d\n  Then up, up, and away!\n\nHere\u2019s Garrick, Booth, and Kean so bright,\nThey shine like stars to give you light.\nSo haste and join the merry throng,\nAnd loudly swell our happy song.\n  Then up, up, and away!\n\n\n\n\nLADY HESTER STANHOPE.\n\n_PROPHECY_.\n\n\nThe star of prophecy shines in the east. To those nations who\nwere first in the order of creation belongs by right the power of\ninvestigating the mysteries of life.\n\nThe people of the East have been known in all past history for their\ngift of prophecy.\n\nAs water gravitates to its level, so I gravitated to the East.\n\nI left my native land, and for many years sojourned among the wandering\nArabs. This course of action was not understood by my countrymen. They\ncould not see the mystic star that drew me away from their busy haunts.\nThe Magi of the East had stood at my cradle and endowed me with the\nnoble gift of the Seeress.\n\nThe power of reading the future does not belong to the Northern people.\nIt is the darkest and deepest well that reflects the star above it; the\ndark and swarthy East is thus endowed. The pale North cannot give out\nimpressions. I was an exception to this rule.\n\nThere are those who at birth are possessed of Eastern\nspirits--Asiatics. Andrew Jackson Davis is not a Northern man--he is an\nAsiatic. Look at his olive complexion, his keen eye, his beard and hair\nof jetty black, his visage,--all betray the race which inspired him.\n\nThe faculty of discerning the future belongs only to certain races, and\nit cannot be universal. Many spirits profess to read the future, but\nfew can do so correctly.\n\nYet the life of man is mapped out in every particular, even before\nhis birth. Men are like planets. The future of the planet Earth could\nhave been foretold before it was thrown off from the sun and while it\nwas yet in a molten state; so each step in an individual life could be\nforetold: yet it requires ability to enter into the peculiar magnetic\ncondition in order to obtain the power of foretelling. It may be said\nif the future of man is thus mapped out, even as was the creation and\nprogression of the earth, it becomes merely a scientific affair to\nprophesy the future of any given individual. This is true, but the\ninquirer will observe how many hundreds and hundreds of years science\nhas been engaged in discovering facts concerning this world\u2019s history.\nThe eye of prophecy could foresee those facts and foretell them, though\nit could not lay down any scientific basis in regard to them.\n\nThe events which will take place to-morrow may be said to have already\ntranspired.\n\nThe water that is rising from yon creek will increase in volume.\nConditions which have been for days and weeks in preparation will\nsuddenly conspire, causing the stream to rise to such a height that the\ncity will be overflowed, bridges swept away, and certain individuals\nsubmerged by the current and their lives lost.\n\nThis disastrous occurrence is governed by a law which the keen observer\nof nature could have foretold years previous to the event.\n\nAs in the natural world the traveller in the desert beholds the mirage\nof some city which is hundreds of miles distant, suddenly arising\nupon the sandy waste, so, in the spirit world, the spectrum form is\nprojected, and events which are to take place are made visible before\ntheir actual occurrence. But, as in the natural world spectrum forms\noccur only under certain atmospheric conditions, so in the spirit world\nit is the conjunction of circumstances and the blending of magnetic\ncurrents that make it possible for coming events to be revealed upon\nthe level plane which is set apart for this purpose in the summer land.\n\nMan at the present day is so constituted that a revealment to him of\ncoming events in detail would be injurious; and experience proves\nthat such disclosures, when made to him in dreams or otherwise,\nare profitless, as he always fails to foil the evil of which he is\nforewarned.\n\nHistory and biography show that individuals have time and again, been\nadmonished by their assiduous friends of evils or calamities that were\nto befall them, yet the admonition, though timely given, seldom enabled\nthem to avoid their fate. Men have been warned of murderous assaults,\nbut they have not evaded them; premonitions have been given of falling\nbuildings, and these have fallen, involving in their destruction the\nloss of the individual\u2019s life at the precise date which his dream\nforeshadowed.\n\nThe time will come in the far future when man will understand prophecy\nas a science. There are few persons living at the present day, who,\nlooking back upon their past history, would conscientiously wish it had\nbeen all revealed to them at the outset of their career.\n\nThe withered, faded beauty, at the dawn of her life of youthful triumph\ncould not have endured a vision of the haggard unfortunate wretch which\nshe would represent in the course of a few years.\n\nThese remarks apply more especially to the so-called civilized state of\nsociety at the present day.\n\nThe semi-barbarous nations, so termed, are in closer sympathy with\nnature. Life and death, prosperity and adversity, are to them as\nnatural effects as the sunshine and rain of the terrestrial globe.\n\nTheir equanimity, their perfect repose upon the bosom of nature, causes\nthem to see more clearly into the future than do civilized nations.\nThere is a spirit of prophecy which does not comprehend the detail, and\nonly takes cognizance of the grand events of life.\n\nThis prophetic condition is attainable by every being in a certain\nstate of exaltation.\n\nThe poet, the painter, the statesman, the preacher, can alike in\nmoments of ecstasy ascend this mount of inspiration, and foretell the\nadvancement of the world in relation to art, science, and spiritual\ndevelopment. But the oracle, the sybil of the East can penetrate a\nheight beyond and above this mount, and can perceive the detail of an\nindividual life in its minutest events.\n\nThe Bible prophecy which foretold that \u201cknowledge should cover the\nearth, even as the waters cover the sea,\u201d and that \u201cthe wilderness\nshould blossom as the rose,\u201d was given in an ecstatic vision, and was\nsimply a spiritual comprehension of the power of soul over matter.\n\nAs a knowledge of distance is relative, a keen perception on the part\nof the prophet revealed to him, as he beheld the birds soaring in air,\nthat the journey to lands beyond the sea was no greater distance to\nthose winged creatures than a few miles would be to him. The prophecy\nIsaiah made more than eighteen hundred years ago, is fulfilled to-day.\nScience has annihilated space; knowledge becomes universal, and the\nwilderness disappears.\n\nThe sages of centuries agone are animating the bodies of to-day. The\ndoctrine of pre-existence is not a fable, yet to have lived two lives\nbelongs only to a chosen few, or those whom a fortuitous circumstance\nhas blest.\n\nNapoleon was one of these. The spirit of a great warrior took\npossession of him at birth.\n\nBut the condition of a pre-existing soul taking possession of a body\ncan occur only under peculiar circumstances. The soul principle is male\nand female, and its perfection depends upon the two sexes as much as\nthe formation of the body depends upon the coalition of the two. In\nstates superinduced by opium or intoxicating liquor upon one party, the\nspirit principle becomes deadened so that an active immortal spirit may\ntake its place.\n\nThis male and female spirit principle, after forming a magnetic\nrelation by the joined bodies, lies inactive in the soul atmosphere of\nthe mother until material birth. If, as is sometimes caused through\naccident, there is but one spirit principle active, the child when\nborn will be idiotic. If the male or female spirit of the pre-existing\nintelligence is of superior order, then the child, as its intellectual\nfaculties develop, will display extraordinary abilities, which will be\nin accordance with the peculiar development of the pre-existent spirit.\n\nThe history of individuals thus circumstanced can be more clearly\ndiscerned than others. Prophecy in bold and clear characters foretells\nthe events which will transpire in their earth life.\n\nIn like manner Jesus, the celebrated child of Bethlehem, had lived\na pre-existent life on earth. He had reigned over a people in his\nprevious life, a wise and loving king. Vague remembrances continuously\nfluttered across his vision and colored the thoughts to which he gave\nutterance.\n\nWhen his mother conceived him, she was not conscious; delirium of\nreligious ecstasy, superinduced by priestly influence, rendered her\noblivious to events, and enabled this wise, tender, loving king to take\nthe place of the native spirit. Christ never married in this life,\nbecause the spirits which possessed him were not male and female.[A]\n\n[Footnote A: The well-known eccentric character of this writer while on\nearth may partly explain the singular views here set forth. ED.]\n\nThe power of foretelling the future is yet in its infancy. Coming\nevents are said to cast their shadows before; and as the barometer\nindicates to a skilful eye the approach of a storm when no sign is\nvisible in the calm sky above, so the events which will befall an\nindividual are marked upon the delicate spiritual barometer which forms\na part of his being, and can be read with unerring precision by the\nclear and practiced eye of the optimist.\n\n\n\n\nPROFESSOR MITCHELL.\n\n_THE PLANETS_.\n\n\nThe worlds of light that nightly illume the firmament of earth are not\nmere spheres of uninhabitable matter, nor are they simply appendages\nto earth,--glittering ornaments to attract the eye of man,--but vast\nsystems of suns and tributary planets, with worlds whose products and\ninhabitants far exceed in organized development those of this little\nplanet Earth, whose astronomers are just beginning to realize the\ncapacities of the worlds revealed through their telescopes.\n\nMany of these worlds have existed centuries prior to the formation of\nthe planet you inhabit, and their inhabitants have attained a degree of\ncivilization which only time can give to you.\n\nThe intellectual development of many of the dwellers of these planets\nis as far superior to your highest state of culture as your condition\nis in advance of the first stages of barbarism.\n\nMen of earth erect temples to their God--their Deity--which to them are\nimposing and grand; but compared to the magnificent structures that\nrear their towers high into space from those glittering points that\nattract your eye, they are poor and insignificant.\n\nYet, as being the highest expression of your intellectual unfolding, we\nlook upon them with admiration, even as you regard the rude attempts of\nthe Egyptians and the earlier races in their grotesquely formed images\nand temples.\n\nThe inhabitants of some of the planets attain a life many times the\nduration of man\u2019s. One of the causes of this prolonged existence is\nthe great age and refinement of the planet. While it is undergoing\nchange, and preparing the vegetable for the animal, and the animal for\nthe mental creation, the conditions that ensue are insalubrious, and\nconducive to disease and death. But when the perfection of the natural\nworld is attained--when it becomes, so to say, spiritualized, and its\ngrosser elements are absorbed--then the human being can live on its\nsurface arid develop his faculties from century to century.\n\nThe thoughtful reader will perceive from this statement that the\nspirits who have inhabited these superior planets must have attained a\nfar greater perfection than those who have inhabited your earth, and\nthe spiritual existence, or heaven, to which such beings migrate, is in\nadvance of the heavens in which the dwellers of earth are born.\n\nThe spiritual heavens correspond to the firmament of the natural world,\nand thus there are myriads of systems of spiritual worlds.\n\nThe residents of these planets visit earth as elder brothers who take\nby the hand the little faltering infants. But intercourse with the\nearth is more difficult for them than for your own native spirits, from\nthe fact that the magnetic atmosphere does not assimilate with them.\nFrom the earth\u2019s spirit world, scientific minds of rare development\nonly have been able to visit the spirit homes of those planetary\ninhabitants.\n\nWhat I have said can give but a faint idea of the population of the\nunseen worlds. As a drop of water which is clear and unoccupied to the\neye, when viewed through the microscope is found to be peopled with\nliving creations, so the worlds that overspread the heavens are peopled\nin every part that the eye can cover.\n\nMan is indeed nothing; and yet he is the whole--a mere speck, a point,\nand yet God himself in the aggregate.\n\n\n\n\nDR. JOHN W. FRANCIS.\n\n_THE INFLUENCE OF MIND UPON MATTER, AND THE CAUSES OF INSANITY AND THE\nVARIOUS DISEASES WHICH AFFLICT HUMANITY AT THE PRESENT DAY_.\n\n\nThe rude nations of the earth believed that disease was the result of\nevil spiritual agencies, and the untutored savage, without the aid of\nbooks or any of the advantages which the learned physician possesses of\nstudying the human system, arrived at the conclusion that disease was\ninflicted by living, unseen individualities.\n\nScience has discarded that idea. It has dissected the human body,\nand, finding the result of the diseases, has assumed to have found\nthe cause; assumed that it is mere bodily disarrangement. Yet any\nintelligent physician will tell you that in his own experience he has\nwitnessed the effect of mind upon the body; that he can give a bread\npill to a patient, informing him that it is a purgative, and it will\nact in that manner; that a certain powder will create nausea or a\nburning sensation, and it will produce those results when the powder\nitself is harmless.\n\nAs the body, if permitted to decay, comes to be infested with vermin,\nso the spirit, if allowed to remain idle and inactive, will become\ninfested by spiritual vermin which will taint and destroy it; and the\nsavage idea that disease is caused by spiritual agency is correct.\n\nIf an individual permit any one idea to obtain predominance, and he\ndwell upon that idea to the exclusion of other thoughts, he will\nattract spirits who fill the air--not organized spiritual beings who\ninhabit the spirit world, but half-organized beings (polypus) who live\nin this atmosphere and were originated from the brains and the physical\norganisms of the inhabitants of the earth; these beings, finding his\nmind concentrated or magnetized to a point, will effect an entrance.\nSuppose, for instance the person centres his mind upon the loss of a\nfriend or of money: this concentration becomes a magnet, which, like\nthe rays of sunlight acting upon a portion of vegetation, produces\ndecomposition upon which spirit vermin may feed. So by dwelling too\ncontinuously upon one thought, certain faculties of the mind become\nexcited by constant action, while others become paralyzed and the\nresult is insanity.\n\nNow spiritualists, or believers in spirit intercourse, should be\nthe most healthy persons in the community, for they understand, or\nshould understand, the laws of psychology which teach that constant\ndwelling upon one thought will bring spirits of like character who\nwill intensify that thought, and they also know that they have but to\nuse their will and the whole magnetic relations will change and a new\ninfluence will be brought to bear.\n\nTell a man he has heart disease, make him believe it, and his heart\nwill beat like a sledge-hammer. Tell him his liver is diseased, make\nhim believe it, and he will feel bilious and look bilious.\n\nTell a man he looks well, compliment him upon his appearance, and he\nwill feel well, look spruce, and his spirits will become elastic.\n\nIt has been a matter of surprise to some why the spirits have taken\nsuch an interest in the science of medicine, and why they have\ndeveloped so many as healers. It is that they may teach man that\ndisease is generally a magnetic condition; and they hope to teach the\ncommunity, through those physicians whom they develop, to discard drugs\nand rely upon magnetic influences and the power of the will to keep the\nbody in its normal condition of health.\n\nToo much stress cannot be laid upon the power of the will in dispelling\ndisease, and in expelling it.\n\nA diseased patient may be likened to a medium who is possessed by a\nspiritual being of low order. The very low condition of the spirit\ncauses him to adhere and cling to the medium, and unless the will is\ndirected to exorcise him, he will keep his subject continually under\nhis influence and the proper individuality of the person will be\nannihilated.\n\nThus, disease, like an evil spirit, takes its hold upon an individual,\nand can only be overthrown from its position by a strong will, which\nsends it shrinking away like a criminal from the body it has infested.\n\nIf the will of the patient is not sufficiently strong, then the will of\nsome good friend must be used. These good friends are known as healing\nmediums. Also a change of air and scene should be obtained, which\nbrings the will into a new action, and thus dislodges the tenant.\n\nThe will is like a sharp two-edged sword, which cuts right and left,\nand leaves no chance for skulking to anything to which it has directed\nits power.\n\nI will close my remarks by repeating that the savage is right in his\nbelief, and that disease is indeed the result of--I might call them\nspiritual harpies, who, though they may not in these civilized times\nbe driven out by the beating of drums, the tom-tom, and the howling of\nfrenzied savages, yet can be dislodged by kindred manipulations, such\nas mesmeric passes, deep breathing, and a positive though almost quiet\nexercise of the will.\n\nSome of my brethren of the profession will be surprised to find these\nviews advanced by one whom they believe held more rational opinions on\nearth; but there are others whose keen intellects have pierced through\nthe wisdom of the schools, and have discovered that the physics they\nhave concocted, when applied to the complex mechanism of the human\nsystem, in palliating the disorders of one function disarrange some\nhalf a dozen others, and that the soul and the body are so interblended\nthat we must heal a disease of the body through and in conjunction with\nthe spirit, its counterpart.\n\n\n\n\nADELAIDE PROCTER.\n\n_THE SPIRIT BRIDE_.\n\n\nYou told me you loved me, and vowed of old,\nWhen you reached that land of jasper and gold,\nTo me you\u2019d return in the hush of night,\nAnd show me a glimpse of your land of light.\n\nI sit in the shadows, and wearily wait\nTo see you throw open the starry gate:\nThrough my golden ringlets the chill winds blow,\nWhile I watch your coming through falling snow.\n\nHow long must I wait? Are you ling\u2019ring where\nThe blue-eyed angels your sweet kisses share?\nIs your home so radiant that never more\nYour steps will be heard at my lowly door?\n\nAh! what do I see through my blinding tears?--What\nmisty form through the tempest appears?\nA cold hand now touches my burning brow,\nA low voice whispers, \u201cI am near thee now.\u201d\n\nBend low--let me kiss thee, thou viewless thing;\nNo rising passion thy cold lips bring;\nBut hushed is the throb of my burning heart\nAs upward he bears me--no more to part.\n\n\nTHE END.","title":"Strange Visitors: A series of original papers, embracing philosophy, science, government, religion, poetry, art, fiction, satire, humor, narrative, and prophecy, by the spirits of Irving, Willis, Thackeray, Bront\u00eb, Richter, Byron, Humboldt, Hawthorne, Wesley, Browning, and others now dwelling in the spirit world; dictated through a clairvoyant, while in an abnormal or trance state","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":57567}