{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_69716/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_69716","id":"gutenberg_69716","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69716","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Religion/Spirituality","Spirit writings","Spirits"],"text":"LIFE AND LABOR\n IN THE\n SPIRIT WORLD.\n BEING A DESCRIPTION OF LOCALITIES, EMPLOYMENTS, SURROUNDINGS, AND\n CONDITIONS IN THE SPHERES.\n\n\n _By Members of the Spirit-Band of_\n\n MISS M. T. SHELHAMER,\n\n Medium of the _Banner of Light_ Public Free Circle.\n\n\n The refulgent ray of Truth is all-piercing; it can never be quenched;\n its light shall yet illuminate the world.\n\n\n SECOND THOUSAND.\n\n\n BOSTON:\n COLBY & RICH, PUBLISHERS.\n CORNER BOSWORTH AND PROVINCE STS.\n 1885.\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE.\n\n\nWhen the thought of publishing this volume was first suggested to me by\nmy spirit guides, I was led to ask, what good will it accomplish? and\nthey replied: It will teach mortals that which it is impossible for them\nto obtain from any other source, but of which they are supremely\ndesirous of being informed,\u2014the conditions and surroundings, and the\npleasures and pursuits of and influence exerted upon the denizens of\nearth by the inhabitants of the spirit world; it will reveal somewhat of\nthe life their departed relatives and friends live, and to which they\nthemselves are rapidly approaching; it will show that that life is a\ntangible reality, that it is, in fact, the substance, this being but the\nshadow,\u2014the eternal, while this is but transitory; that while the joys\nthey may there possess surpass all human power of conception, they are\nattained only by purity of thought, and a faithful performance of duty,\nand that every advance made in those essentials in this life places them\nin a correspondingly advanced state when they enter the spiritual realm.\nI had no desire to further question; the accomplishment of such a work\nseemed every way desirable; I cheerfully acceded to their wishes, and\nthe result is here presented.\n\nI believe that all herein given has emanated from the minds of spiritual\nintelligences, that even the words employed have been chosen by them as\nmost befitting the thoughts they wished to express. They have come to me\nin times of quiet seclusion, when there was nothing to disturb the\nharmony absolutely required for the transmission of the truths they\nwished to convey.\n\n M. T. SHELHAMER.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n\n PART FIRST.\n\n CHAPTER I.\n SPIRIT VIOLET. Sympathy. Girls. Old Age. 7\n\n CHAPTER II.\n SPIRIT ECHOES. A Meeting of Missionary Spirits. A Spirit Returns to\n Comfort Her Mother. Just Recognition of Returning Spirits.\n Consolatory Thoughts for Bereaved Mothers. The Ministration of\n Spirits. The Rain of the Summer-Land. Happiness of Spirits in\n Communing with Friends on Earth. Poetry of the Spirit Spheres. My\n Mother (poem). 23\n\n CHAPTER III.\n REAL LIFE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. A Darkened Spirit Led to See the\n Light. An Outcast from Earth Returns to Aid the Fallen. Unseen\n Helpers at a Conflagration. Advent of a Mortal into Spirit Life. 37\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n ZENCOLLIA CITY AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. A Temple of Learning. Hall of\n Metaphysics. Hall of Literature. Hall of Music. Social Life in\n Zencollia. Interior View of Zencollia. A Convocation of Women;\n Equality of Sex. Dwellers in Zencollia. A Suburban View. My Home,\n its Life and Associations. 54\n\n CHAPTER V.\n PLACES I HAVE SEEN. The People of Spring Garden City. Children\u2019s\n Lyceum. Harmonial City. A Magnificent Temple. City of Joy.\n Floralia, the Valley of Flowers. The Valley of Delight. The Happy\n Hunting Ground of the Indians. 72\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n SCENES AND INCIDENTS IN THE SPIRIT LAND. Trial and Triumph. A Home\n for the Weary. The Condition of One Selfish on Earth. First Steps\n towards Enlightenment. Enfranchisement of a Spirit. Children\u2019s\n Progressive Lyceums. Methods of Instruction in Spirit Lyceums. A\n Golden-Chain Recitation. 87\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n HOW SPIRITS WORK. A Spirit Mother Relieves an Impoverished\n Daughter. Parents Suddenly Bereaved. The Father\u2019s Grief Affects\n the Spirit. The Spirit Seeks to Make Her Presence Known. The\n Recognition and its Results. 103\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n AN ECHO FROM THE SUMMER-LAND. The Lesson of Self-Sacrifice. Days of\n Darkness. Words of Cheer from the Spirit Land. The Mists Clearing\n Away. 116\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n THE FORTUNES OF LITTLE GEORGIE. Shadows on Earthly Paths. A Spirit\n Mother Leads Her Child. Visions of the Night. Dreams that\n Appeared Strange. The Strange Dreams fulfilled. 126\n\n CHAPTER X.\n LUCY AIKEN\u2019S MISSION. Unseen Helpers. A Spirit\u2019s Efforts to Reach\n Her Father. The Last Penny and the Last Appeal. The Influence of\n the Spirit Begins to Show Itself. The Spirit Daughter\u2019s Presence.\n Happy Results of Spirit Efforts. Angel Visits not Few nor Far\n Between. 139\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n EXPERIENCES IN SPIRIT LIFE. The Various Classes of Spirits near the\n Earth. The Power and Extent of Personal Influence. Beulah, a\n Spirit Missionary. Beulah\u2019s Self-Sacrificing Beneficence.\n Reformation of Spirits in the Lower Spheres. Illustrative\n Instance of the Reformation of a Spirit. The Work Carried to\n Completion. The Reformed Spirit Returns to Earth to Reform\n Others. First Sensations upon Entering Spirit Life. The Ultimate\n Reign of Peace and Happiness on Earth. 154\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n SANITARIUMS IN SPIRIT LIFE. Localities and Characteristics. Methods\n of Treatment. Music as a Means of Recuperation. Restoration of\n the Mentally Diseased. Improved Medical Treatment on Earth. One\n of the Sanitariums of Spirit Life. Interesting Incident,\u2014a Mother\n Finds Her Child. Cultivation of Inherent Talents. 172\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n SURROUNDINGS AND CONDITIONS OF SPIRITS. Reasons for Different Views\n of Spirit Surroundings. Earthly Conditions that Retard Spiritual\n Progress. Worldly Success often a Misfortune. Earthly Conditions\n Continued in Spirit Life. An Illustration. External Surroundings\n Produced by Mental Conditions. Materialistic Scientists in Spirit\n Life. The Dawning of Spiritual Light. The Liberal-Minded\n Scientist. Contrasted Causes and Effects. The Simply\n Intellectual. Cheerlessness of a Want of Spirituality. Blending\n of the Spiritual and Intellectual. Happiness Derivable only from\n Within. The Human nature of Spirits. Right and Wrong States of\n Contentment. 186\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n OUR CO-OPERATIVE SOCIETIES. Earthly Reforms Originate in Spirit\n Life. Divisions of Spirit Mission of Labor. Woman Suffrage. The\n Indians. Peace Arbitration. Heredity. An Organization of Spirits\n for the Elevation of Earth\u2019s Inhabitants. Care and Protection of\n Mediums. Development of New Mediums. Our Co-operative Society;\n what Constitutes Membership; its Plans, Purposes, and Influence. 214\n\n\n PART SECOND.\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n INTRODUCTORY.\u2014SPIRIT MAY. The Council of the Flowers. For the\n Little Ones (poem). Who Can Tell (poem). Work (poem). To My\n Sister Genevieve (poem). Grandma\u2019s Pet (poem). Two Birdies\n (poem). Evening (poem). The Awakening of the Flowers (poem). Baby\n Nellie (poem). A Happy New Year (poem). Snow Drops (poem). An\n Evening Song (poem). Children (poem). Snow Flakes (poem). 233\n\n CHAPTER XVI.\n A STORY FOR THE CHILDREN. 253\n\n CHAPTER XVII.\n THE CHILDREN OF THE SUMMER-LAND. 272\n\n CHAPTER XVIII.\n LITTLE BERTIE AND OTHERS. 290\n\n CHAPTER XIX.\n GOLDEN NEST AND OTHER PLACES. Heavenly Love (poem) 307\n\n\n PART THIRD.\n\n CHAPTER XX.\n JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE. HIS EXPERIENCES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. I Come\n to Thee (poem). Heart Treasures (poem). \u201cAnd He Will make it\n Plain\u201d (poem). Down by the Sea (poem). Coming Home (poem). A\n Friend\u2019s Advice (poem). The Welcome Angels Give. 326\n\n CHAPTER XXI.\n MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES ON EARTH. 345\n\n CHAPTER XXII.\n MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. 351\n\n CHAPTER XXIII.\n THE POET\u2019S COUNCIL. 367\n\n CHAPTER XXIV.\n A VISIT TO ROBERT BURNS. 383\n\n CHAPTER XXV.\n MY SPIRITUAL WORK. 404\n\n\n\n\n LIFE AND LABOR IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.\n\n\n\n\n PART FIRST.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n SPIRIT VIOLET.\n\n\nKatie Ammidown Kinsey\u2014the beautiful spirit to whom we are indebted for\nthe larger part of the contents of this book\u2014was the second daughter of\nJoseph and Ann Frances Kinsey, of Cincinnati, Ohio. Born in that city\nOct. 7, 1856, the subject of this sketch lived in the home of her\nparents\u2014save when she was away at school\u2014until her twenty-first year,\nwhen, in the July of 1877, while making a visit at the home of an uncle\nin Milton, Indiana, she was suddenly summoned to enter the spirit world\nafter an illness of only a few days.\n\nThe character and disposition of Miss Kinsey were of the most exemplary\nand lovely nature. Of her it could be truly said: \u201cNone knew thee but to\nlove thee, nor named thee but to praise.\u201d Hers was no common life;\nimbued with an earnest and deep sympathy for humanity, and ever desirous\nof doing good, her days were spent in thoughtful care for others, and in\nseeking to give practical expression to the golden rule. In a memorial\naddress framed by the officers of the Sabbath school, at which Katie was\na regular attendant, and presented to her parents as a token of the rare\nappreciation in which she was held by all, are to be found the following\ncommendatory words of her earthly life:\u2014\n\n \u201cHer heart was open, frank, and transparent; we all recognized the\n loveliness and beauty of her character and life, and they have left an\n impression not easily removed. She has always been the same sweet,\n gentle spirit; no expression which was not fitting to be made\n anywhere, no harsh word or unkind look marred her beautiful life;\n always ready to discharge cheerfully any duty assigned to her, and\n always well. As a scholar she seemed to absorb all that was taught,\n and to drink in the great truth of redeeming love. Her long connection\n with our school, and her interest in everything that would promote its\n welfare, we record as worthy of all imitation.\u201d\n\nFor some time before her physical decease Miss Kinsey displayed a taste\nfor literary pursuits, which was very gratifying to her friends, as well\nas pleasing to herself. For a number of months previous to her last\nillness, she had filled the position of editress of a lively little\npaper called _The Spectator_, published by the Friends\u2019 Lyceum, an\norganization of which she was a member; and it is needless to remark\nthat she managed the sheet with becoming skill, ability, and discretion.\n\nWidely was the death of their beloved president and editress deplored by\nthe various members of the society, and a set of resolutions, expressing\ngrief at their loss, and the esteem in which she was held by the\norganization, was framed and adopted at its first meeting following her\ndecease.\n\nNotices of the death of Miss Kinsey appeared in the Cincinnati papers,\nand bore expression to the universal love and respect in which she was\nheld; while letters of condolence were forwarded to her parents from all\nquarters.\n\nShortly after the decease of their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Kinsey\ncollected the memorial addresses, resolutions, letters of sympathy,\nnewspaper articles, etc., on her death, and in connection with the\nliterary productions of their ascended child, published them in an\nelegantly bound volume, copies of which were presented to the numerous\nfriends who had known and loved her.\n\nThis memorial volume bears the following inscription upon its title\npage:\u2014\n\n \u201cThus, far beyond all noise of earthly strife,\n Or silent death, rest \u2019neath the long, green sod;\n Thou art gone triumphant into perfect life,\n The soul\u2019s _true_ life in God.\u201d\n\nThe articles that follow, from the pen of Miss Kinsey, will indicate to\nthe reader her mental ability, and the liberal opinions entertained by\nher. They were written while filling the position of editress of _The\nSpectator_, and published in its columns on the dates specified:\u2014\n\n\n SYMPATHY.\n\n \u201cOf all the gifts given to man, the power to sympathize is the most\n God-like, and the man who has it not knows not what life is; when he\n reaches his journey\u2019s end on this side, having been supremely selfish\n all the way, he will discover that what he called life was but a\n living death after all.\n\n \u201cLove and sympathy seem nearly synonymous, but the former can be\n selfish, while the very essence of the latter is thought for others.\n Genius is but an intense power to sympathize, coupled with ability to\n express the same. In fact, this one word makes a part of so many good\n things that to enjoy life at all we _must_ sympathize with nature,\n man, or God.\n\n \u201cA sympathy with nature is the source of marvelous comfort;\n Shakespeare understood it when he said:\n\n \u2018And this our life, exempt from public haunt,\n Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,\n Sermons in stones, and good in everything.\u2019\n\n \u201cThere are times when life grown burdensome hangs like a leaden weight\n upon our necks; we would get away from ourselves, and it is necessary\n to use all our power to crush the wish that we had never been born;\n then if we can go into the fields or woods, and, throwing ourselves\n upon the ground, rest our heads on the loving earth, how soon we find\n relief. The quiet breeze is like a friendly hand upon our brows; the\n voice of the brook, the song of birds, and hum of insects are like\n balm upon a wound; we are children in our mothers\u2019 arms, and the grand\n old trees are our brothers and sisters. Whatever human friends may\n leave or disappoint us, we have always sweet sympathizers in the\n flowers, trees, brooks, rocks, grass, and everything which springs to\n life in the fields or woods, on the mountains or in the valleys.\n\n \u201cA sympathy with our fellow-beings is higher than that with nature,\n because more active and requiring forbearance. \u2018Put yourself in his\n place\u2019 has a world of meaning. We should strive that ours may be the\n finger which shall touch the secret spring in our neighbor\u2019s heart,\n which shall unlock the good lying dormant there for want of help to\n bring it out. Strive to realize their griefs and temptations. If we\n could for one short hour put ourselves in the place of some one whom\n we now condemn with so much bitterness; if we could see how\n circumstances have wrapped their fatal web around him, how much the\n fatal tendency to do evil is the terrible legacy of his parents, how\n often would harsh judgment lie low in the dust, and loving mercy cover\n with her shielding mantle? If we could throw off this crust of ice,\n with which so many of us seem to have encased ourselves, how much more\n good we could do? _Now_, we stand apart; _then_, joined together, each\n helping the other, we would fulfill the purpose of our being.\n\n \u201cSympathy with God! Is it blasphemous for weak mortals to think of\n such a thing? No! The loving Father alone is acquainted with us, and\n is therefore the only thorough sympathizer we have. \u2018He knoweth our\n frame; He remembereth that we are dust.\u2019 We commence to be in harmony\n with God just as soon as by cultivating sympathy for man, we become\n fellow-workers with Him.\u201d\n\n MARCH 2, 1877.\n\n\n GIRLS.\n\n \u201cGirls are queer creatures, but we cannot help liking them. Under all\n the silliness and vanity there is a vein of gold in everyone which is\n undoubtedly genuine,\u2014it comes to the surface sometimes, but is often\n so deeply imbedded in nonsense that a superficial observer would not\n have the slightest suspicion of its existence. Part of this want of\n sense is natural, but a great deal of it is acquired in a negative\n way. The majority of girls have very little object in life, and cannot\n see the use of accumulating material which they never expect to use;\n to be sure they all intend to be married some time, but, judging from\n the specimens of male suitors, they see that which requires but very\n little effort and less sense. So, when papa and mamma, after a great\n deal of consultation, decide upon a good school their daughter goes\n there, but she could hardly tell you why. If she has no positive love\n for study, her chief end and aim, while in school, will be to shuffle\n off the lessons for the day with the utmost dispatch, and \u2018there\u2019s an\n end.\u2019 When school days are over, she expects to have nothing more to\n do with the subjects there considered, excepting a little reading,\n writing, spelling, and arithmetic. She is to enter society, which to\n hundreds means spending the days with a little house-work, making a\n good many calls, and doing some shopping. The evenings are devoted to\n dancing or talking with vapid-brained young men, who never had an idea\n in their lives, and consider it an insult if a lady ventures one. Or\n worse than this, perhaps they must talk with young men whom they know\n _have_ sense, but will not condescend to use it in their presence.\n\n \u201cAfter a while the girl is expected to marry one of these individuals.\n They do very well for a partner in a cotillion, but how about life?\n Let us see what she has to say about it, talking to a confidential\n friend: \u2018Oh, yes, it is decided that Mr. B. and I are to be made one.\n I can\u2019t say I love him devotedly, and really think him decidedly\n stupid sometimes; but I suppose it is all for the best, for you see I\n cannot do a single thing, and if papa should be taken away or lose his\n health, having nothing to depend upon but his salary now, what would\n become of us then? As it is, Mr. B. is rich, and I can give a nice,\n comfortable home to both mamma and papa at any time after we are\n married.\u2019\n\n \u201cWhat silly and romantic ideas we had about marriage when we went to\n school? How soon they vanish in real life! _Here_ we have to take the\n best we can get and be thankful for it. We believe the above to be a\n fair sample of hundreds of the marriages made at the present day. The\n man wants a housekeeper, the woman a home. Each gets what he or she\n bargained for, and so much more that it is not strange the daily\n papers are full of accounts of divorce suits. Let the girls, as well\n as the boys, be educated to do something whereby they can make an\n honorable living, and we believe a great deal of unhappiness will be\n prevented. It seems to us but justice to allow women to do \u2018whatsoever\n their hands find to do with their might,\u2019 whether it be dressmaking,\n cooking, washing and ironing, or practicing law and medicine. It also\n seems no more than right that she should have a voice in the affairs\n of the country under whose laws she lives and educates her children.\n\n \u201cThe sterner sex need have no fears that when woman has the ballot she\n will usurp their privilege of smoking, swearing, wearing the hair\n short, fighting at the polls, and other such delicacies; neither will\n she monopolize the stump at election times, and harangue the people,\n calling everyone who disagrees with her names that decent people would\n blush to address to a dog. Some people pretend to fear that when women\n vote they will have no time for domestic affairs, and that the\n institution of home itself will be destroyed. Heart-rending pictures\n are drawn of _pater familias_, seated by the deserted hearth-stone,\n vainly endeavoring to quiet a weeping infant, while its mother has\n gone to the \u2018pollsys, wollsys.\u2019 As the old woman said: \u2018We feel for\n that man, but we can\u2019t find him\u2019; neither can we find the mother who\n would intrust her infant to such doubtful care. From the fuss made\n about the time taken from domestic duties one would think it took a\n week to put a small slip of paper into a medium-sized box. Why, we\n have known of men who could put in half a dozen in less than half that\n time, and no one suspects women to be less clever than men.\n\n \u201cAs for home, who made the home in the first place? Woman, of course;\n and she loves it as she loves her life. Here the golden vein in her\n nature _will_ come to the surface and sparkle resplendently. Will her\n home be any the less sweet when she feels that she can indeed be a\n help-meet to her husband if disaster overtake him in business? Will\n her children be less dear because she has the consciousness that she\n can protect and care for them if the head of the house be taken away?\n Will she love her husband less, knowing that she married him to have a\n loving companion, and not simply a person to support her?\n\n \u201cA woman naturally wishes to respect and look up to her husband,\n therefore, we have decided that society, when it is perfected, should\n be looked upon as a flight of stairs,\u2014conceding to man the position on\n the highest step, if you please, but there is a woman on the one just\n below, and the steps are not very high. In this way they alternate\n until we reach the lowest step, and what find we there? A disconsolate\n old bachelor, with disheveled hair, croaking a tune, the burden of\n which is that women have no business to vote.\u201d\n\n MAY 18, 1877.\n\nThe following little gem, published by Miss Kinsey in the _Spectator_\nearly in 1877, is here reproduced at the earnest solicitations of many\nfriends:\u2014\n\n\n OLD AGE.\n\n \u201cIt is a melancholy fact that the majority of mankind hate to grow\n old. If sin was looked upon with as much shrinking and dread as is the\n idea of growing old, there would speedily be a great reformation in\n the world. This is a bad state of affairs; an evidence, in fact, that\n we are looking through the wrong end of the glass. If we had a journey\n to make, at the end of which there was a delightful country, more\n beautiful than anything the imagination could picture, where all that\n heart could desire should be ours, the one nearest his journey\u2019s end\n would not be looked upon as the most unfortunate. Yet this is often\n the case in life; looking upon one far in advance, we think, because\n his body is feeble and nearly worn out, he must be unhappy; he would\n not be so if, having understood the journey, he had taken pains to\n know and accept the blessings by the way.\n\n \u201cWe confess that, looking upon life as seen now, there is often much\n excuse for those who think youth the only pleasant season. Stopping to\n think a moment, we see this is all wrong. Advancement, not\n retrogression, is the proper watchword in all undertakings. Is the bud\n more perfect than the flower, or the flower than the fruit? Old age is\n the ripened fruit of life, and it remains entirely with _us_ to see\n that it shall be sweet and pleasant to the taste, instead of bitter\n and disagreeable. One cause for the latter condition we find lies in\n persons who, having been disappointed themselves, say to their\n children: \u2018Have a good time while you are young; old age brings\n nothing but care and responsibility.\u2019 Better give a child poison at\n once than start him out with that idea. Some will say: \u2018Children are\n so happy, being so innocent; do let them be children forever.\u2019 The\n innocence of childhood is unfortunately the result of ignorance, and\n can never make character; one who does good because he knows not how\n to do evil has no more character than the one who does evil because he\n knows no good.\n\n \u201cIn youth, knowing little, we have small ideas of life, and\n consequently cannot have a broad and full enjoyment of it. But we\n might as well remain children if the knowledge we gain with years does\n not make us wiser and prevent us running off into every by-path we\n see, getting nearly swamped in somebody else\u2019s opinion, and having to\n retrace our steps. Behaving in this manner, we cannot expect to reach\n old age without being tired and disgusted with the journey. Having\n worn out our brains endeavoring to make two parallel lines meet, and\n our bodies trying to follow them to the impossible point, time has\n been too short to consider that which is spiritual, and we must be\n miserable at the thought of entering a life entirely so. As the body\n becomes feeble the soul should grow strong and triumphant, for then we\n _know_ that our feet are just upon the border of the \u2018Promised Land,\u2019\n only waiting till the thin mist which hides it shall be dispersed by\n the sunlight of God\u2019s will.\u201d\n\nFor some years Mr. Joseph Kinsey, the father of Miss Katie, has been an\nearnest and devoted Spiritualist, and his opinions concerning the future\nlife of man are well-known in the community where he resides, and among\nthe business men of the country with whom he associates. His daughter,\nhowever, had not become convinced of the truths of the spiritual\nphilosophy previous to her death. Let us quote her own words on this\nsubject as given through her chosen medium, in a communication to her\nfather some years after her transition to the higher life:\u2014\n\n \u201cI was not well enough acquainted with Spiritualism, dear father, to\n understand and accept its revealments; nor was it until I myself\n became a disembodied spirit, and realized that I possessed the power\n to return and intelligently communicate with my mortal friends, that I\n cared to investigate its claims, and to profit by the teachings and\n privileges that Spiritualism affords to man.\u201d\n\nAfter her departure from the mortal form, Miss Kinsey embraced every\nopportunity to communicate with her father and other friends; but it was\nnot until Dec. 22, 1878, that she appeared at a circle in South Boston,\nMass., and controlled the now well-known _Banner of Light_ medium, Miss\nM. T. Shelhamer, who was at that time the message medium of the _Voice\nof Angels_,\u2014a spiritual journal then and now published semi-monthly in\nBoston,\u2014and gave the following lengthy communication, which appeared in\nthat journal Jan. 15, 1879:\u2014\n\n \u201cIt was in the beautiful summer time that I passed away from earth,\n but not from the love, the true home affections, of my parents\u2019\n hearts. Then the birds, the zephyrs, and the flowers made life\n beautiful and glad, and earth rang with the melody of perfected\n spring. Now the blasts of winter have appeared,\u2014the cold blast and the\n biting storm. I loved the glad, warm summer; I loved the winter too,\n with its diadem of glittering ice-gems, and its white drapery of snow,\n covering all unsightly places with a robe of purity, just as the\n mantle of charity, drawn by the hand of pitying kindness, covers all\n unsightly blemishes in the lives of those around it. I come with\n gladness tonight, not weak and worn out with pain, but strong and\n robust, to bring the stalks of creamy, white Christmas lilies, that\n breathe only of purity and peace, and to plant them in the hearts of\n my darling father and mother, with the blessings of _all_ their dear\n ones who have developed, and are developing the graces of spiritual\n culture in the higher life.\n\n \u201cOh, father, oh, mother, life is so beautiful! Here the forces and\n attributes of the spirit do not ripen at the expense of the external\n form. Spirit growth is so natural, so in harmony with outward law,\n that the inner keeps pace with the outer, and both expand together.\n The student presents no paling cheek, no wasted frame, for knowledge\n is gained while living in accordance with nature\u2019s laws. My spirit is\n expanding, developing; I am daily gaining strength. My instructors are\n judicious and kind, and it is so glorious to express with perfected\n language the true, pure essence of thought that permeates the spirit.\n\n \u201cBy-and-bye we will meet and greet you, oh, so lovingly in our own\n dear spirit home. Until then we come to you daily, nestling in our\n sweet, old home, drawing love and sympathy from your souls, bringing\n peace and affection to crown your spirits. Eight jewels[1] flash a\n radiance of celestial love toward you tonight from this distant place.\n Eight gems, polished by the hand of the Great Lapidary, shine in the\n crown of light that awaits you above.\u201d\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n Referring to herself and brothers and sisters in the spirit world.\n\n \u201c\u2018Yes, sir,\u2019 addressing Mr. Robert Anderson, the chairman of the\n _Voice of Angels_ circle, \u2018I have returned from spirit life before,\n but not here. We frequently come. We have manifested tangibly and\n satisfactorily to our friends at different places. Last summer we did\n so in an unmistakable manner at the West. A year ago, some of us tried\n to manifest at Mrs. Boothby\u2019s, in Boston. We come as often as we can.\n Our home is full of harmony and love, and it strengthens our spirits\n to come, while it consoles our parents to believe that we are with\n them. My uncle, who passed away many years ago by accident, has gained\n a great deal of experience and knowledge with my father at the bank,\n and in other business places; and he blesses father for his faith in\n spirit ministration, for it is of great assistance to him.\n\n \u201cThe spirit editor[2] of the _Voice_ tells me that if I desire at any\n time to write out my thoughts, or to give expression to my ideas\n through this medium (Miss Shelhamer), he will be pleased to publish\n them. I thank him, and may avail myself of his kind offer; should I do\n so, father and all my friends will recognize me under the _nom de\n plume_ of Spirit Violet, as that is the name I shall assume. I love\n the violets, their sweet perfume sheds an atmosphere of beauty around\n me, and they breathe of innocence and peace.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n L. Judd Pardee, through whose agency the _Voice of Angels_ was\n established and managed, in connection with D. C. Densmore, the\n publisher.\n\n \u201cI know not as I have given all I could wish, but must not trespass\n longer. I thank you very kindly for receiving me. My name is Katie A.\n Kinsey. I come from Cincinnati, Ohio. My father is Mr. Joseph Kinsey\n of that city.\u201d\n\nThe paper containing the above was forwarded according to the spirit\u2019s\ndirection to Cincinnati, and elicited a letter of inquiry from Mr.\nJoseph Kinsey, of that city, as to how and where the message was first\nobtained. Dr. D. C. Densmore, the publisher of the _Voice of Angels_,\nreplied, giving all the facts of the case, as he had received them from\nthe managers of the circle. The following response, received in due time\nby Dr. Densmore, and which explains itself, was published in the _Voice_\nof Feb. 15, 1879, the very paper which contained the first literary\nproduction of Spirit Violet, given through the mediumship of Miss\nShelhamer:\u2014\n\n \u201cCINCINNATI, Feb. 3, 1879.\n\n D. C. DENSMORE, North Weymouth, Mass.\n\n Dear Sir,\u2014I have your valued letter of the 20th ult., in reply to my\n letter of inquiry for the particulars as to how and through what\n medium that beautiful message came from Katie A. Kinsey, published in\n your paper of Jan. 15th. Your very full statement of the facts and\n circumstances, together with her sweet message of love, affection, and\n sympathy, which has since been partially corroborated through J. V.\n Mansfield, at 61 West 42nd St., New York, leads me to conclude that\n the message is verily and truly from our darling daughter Katie, who\n left her mortal form about nineteen months ago, aged twenty years. In\n that message she brings to my remembrance occurrences in my father\u2019s\n family of nearly fifty years ago, of which she probably never heard in\n her life. I send you this affirmation as a pleasing duty in sustaining\n your work for the _Voice of Angels_.\n\n Truly yours,\n JOSEPH KINSEY.\u201d\n\nShortly after the publication of the message above alluded to, Spirit\nViolet, Katie Kinsey, appeared to Miss Shelhamer for the purpose of\nwriting for the press, and in the capacity of a literary spirit has\nattended that lady from that time to the present, forming one of her\nband of spirit intelligences, whose work it is to assist other spirits\nto communicate to their mortal friends through the message department of\nthe _Banner of Light_, to instruct the denizens of earth concerning\ntheir duties to each other, and the best manner of preparing for their\nfuture life, and also to inform them of the condition, surroundings, and\nexistence of spirits. Spirit Violet subsequently contributed regularly\nto the columns of the _Voice of Angels_, and it is from what she thus\nfurnished to mortals from time to time concerning the real existence and\nexperiences of spirits that we have selected the larger part of the\ncontents of this book.\n\nIn a private letter written to her father some time since, the spirit\nthus explains how she happened to learn and avail herself of the\nmediumship of Miss Shelhamer:\u2014\n\n \u201cWhen I learned that it was possible for spirits to take possession of\n certain sensitives on earth, and through the organisms thus provided,\n manifest their love and sympathy to their earthly friends, my great\n anxiety to reach you and mother led me to eagerly seek for a medium\n adapted to my purpose, and I availed myself of every opportunity to\n express myself to you and others. I remembered that you were strongly\n interested in the Message Department of the _Banner of Light_, and\n that you held a high opinion of the abilities of the medium who\n presided over it. So I expressed my desire to visit the _Banner_\n circle to my spirit brother John, who promised to accompany me there\n at an early date. But upon presenting myself at that circle I was\n disappointed to find that it was utterly impossible for me to control,\n or to influence in any manner, the medium whom I found there.\n\n \u201cHer magnetism did not in any degree assimilate with my own, and\n though I visited her circles many times, and watched the ease with\n which other spirits possessed themselves of her organism, yet I was\n never able to perform a like operation.\n\n \u201cAt those circles, however, I met the spirit Rev. John Pierpont, a\n frequenter of that place, who noticed my anxiety, and at length\n questioned me upon it. To him I related my troubles, and he kindly\n volunteered to direct me to a medium through whom he thought I could\n express myself. The spirit further stated that the lady to whom he\n referred was under the charge of a band of spirits of which himself\n and Mrs. Conant were members, who were developing her powers that they\n might be utilized by the spirit world upon the _Banner of Light_\n platform, as the lady who then presided at that office would soon be\n unable to attend to her duties. And to further this end, a branch\n office had been established at South Boston, where spirits who desired\n to communicate with their friends, and were unable to do so at the\n _Banner_ establishment, were given an opportunity to be heard through\n the columns of the _Voice of Angels_.\n\n \u201cMr. Pierpont then introduced me to the spirit brother of my present\n medium, and I was invited by him to attend a circle at his earthly\n home and to manifest myself through the organism of his sister.\n\n \u201cThis occurred in the early fall; but though I became a regular\n visitor at the weekly circles of the medium, it was not until the\n following winter that I gained power to control her organism, and\n indite that message which was afterward received by you through the\n dear little paper. In the meantime I had made the acquaintance of Mr.\n Pierpont, Mr. Pardee, John Critchley Prince, and other noble spirits\n at those seances, by whom I was cordially invited to become a literary\n contributor to the _Voice_.\u201d\n\nThe selections from the writings of Spirit Violet, which this book\ncontains, consist mainly of accounts and narratives of life in the\nspirit world, together with an intelligent exposition of methods\nemployed by spirits in their labor for the benefit of mortals. We shall\nnow leave the subject of this sketch to speak for herself in the\nchapters that follow, concerning those things that appertain to the\nrealms of spirit life.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n SPIRIT ECHOES.\n\n\nWhat is more beautiful than a morning in the Summer-Land? All things\nbreathe of harmony and peace. No jarring discords break upon the ambient\nair; no sense of unloveliness and distress disturbs the spirit; no\nstorm-clouds overcast the heavens with threatening anger. The golden sun\ntempers his rays in mildness and with beneficent warmth. The birds sing\nfearlessly in the tree tops; the waters flow merrily to the laughing\nsea; the breezes play in wanton glee, tossing the leaflets upon the\ntrees, and robbing the flowers of their choicest perfume to greet the\nsenses of the passer-by.\n\nPure souls, to whom no taint of materiality clings; sweet spirits, who\nhave never felt, or having felt, have risen above the influence of\nearthly passions, here abide, and, gathering together into\nconvocations,\u2014convened not for ceremony, nor from pride of station, but\nfrom sympathy and friendship,\u2014interchange the rich treasures of the\nmind, cultivate through soul communion, the true graces of the spirit\nand work in unity together, thus developing the adaptability of each one\nfor his peculiar mission, and, above all, seek, by those united efforts,\nborn of sincerity of purpose, and love for humanity, to devise ways and\nmeans for the amelioration of suffering upon earth, as well as for the\nelevation of lowly, undeveloped Beings in the spirit world.\n\nThis is the dear Summer-Land of ascended souls. A Summer-Land as far\nremoved from those spirits who still dwell in the darkness, emitted by\ntheir earthly career, and who continue to cling to the shadow of\nmaterial dross, as it is from those inhabitants of clay, whose thoughts\nof the future are confined to longings for personal grandeur alone, and\nwhose souls never mount upon the wings of aspiration in reaching out\ntoward the higher realms of purity and goodness, or in searching for the\ndear Father and his ministering angels.\n\nThe silvery chime of bells floats upon the morning air, which bathes my\nspirit in waves of sweet, melodious sound. Grandly, solemnly they chime,\nlifting the soul above all selfish thoughts and purposes; bearing it\nupward and onward upon the wings of sacred music; far upward in\nadoration toward the source of all this beautiful, beneficent, and\nimmortal life. Faint and low the sweet chime flows downward also,\nbearing a sense of what is highest and best to those plunged in sorrow,\npain, and doubt, and giving them hope of a sweeter life yet to be\nattained through honest endeavor and individual effort. Sweet and low,\nfloating down, down, into the hearts of loved ones on earth, thrilling\nthem with a calmness of heavenly peace, a sense of perfect rest, and\nbearing into their souls undying echoes of love, sympathy, and\nremembrance, from their dear ones who have gone before.\n\n\n A MEETING OF MISSIONARY SPIRITS.\n\n \u201cWaft, waft, ye winds the story;\n And you, ye waters, roll\n Till like a sea of glory\n It spreads from pole to pole.\n Progression, oh, Progression!\n The joyful sound proclaim,\n Till earth\u2019s remotest nation\n Hath learned Progression\u2019s name.\u201d\n\nI have just listened to the above rendition of the inspiring missionary\nhymn, and my soul thrills in harmony with the aspirations and the desire\nto spread the light of truth before all people, which was thus\nexpressed.\n\nIt was in no hall of worship and assembly that the words of the hymn\nfell upon my hearing. But in returning from the earthly home of loved\nones, where I had been to whisper my matin greeting of sympathy and\naffection, to my peculiar haunts in the spirit world, I found a knot of\nspirit missionaries who had met to exchange reports of their labor, and\nto unite their powers and energies in doing good to the needy by\nshedding a stream of light upon earth\u2019s darkened places.\n\nThere were venerable men whose years had been spent in working for\nothers. Their flowing robes, and the sandals upon their feet rendered\ntheir appearance patriarchal. There were elderly females in whose\ncountenances appeared the light of pure love and benevolence. These\nlatter were the nurses, the tender counsellors, the gentle mother\nspirits, whose lives are devoted to the ministering unto sin-sick,\nbattle-worn souls, who enter spirit life without hope or faith. There\nwere also young men and maidens, novices in the work of teaching others,\nbut who, from their earnest desire to be of use and to do good, were\ndrawn to this particular field of toil.\n\nThe garb of all but the patriarchs was similar to that worn upon earth;\nbut the females were clothed in plainer, less elaborate garments than I\nthink any of their mortal sisters would have been content to wear. No\nbadge of office glistened upon their breasts, or gleamed from the\nshoulder. Nor was this necessary; their credentials shone from their\nsparkling eyes, and beamed in their tender, pitying faces. Theirs is a\nmission of peace, and only the implements of love and good-will do they\nrequire, such as tender, earnest speech, faithful hearts and helping\nhands, to accomplish their work.\n\nI could perceive the purpose of their meeting; here, in a comparatively\nisolated spot, where the trees hemmed them in from external scenes,\nunmolested by others, they had met to make their reports, and to gain\nstrength, cheer, and encouragement from their friendly and soul-felt\nintercourse. They had just begun to sing the old familiar hymn, a verse\nof which I have quoted, as I came up, and the melody, which trickled\nthrough the lines like a stream of light, together with their\nearnestness of expression, arrested my attention, and thrilled my being\nwith a new purpose and aspiration. Oh, thought I, what a glorious\nmission, to be of use to others, to be a beacon-star to some lonely\nwanderer amid the trials of life, to speak words of kindness, of hope\nand love to the broken-hearted and sad. Oh, that I might be like these\npeople!\n\nInstantly, one of the band, a gentle, beautiful female, turned to me\nwith out-stretched hand as if in greeting, her whole countenance\nsuffused with joy, and said: \u201cDear child, thy mission hath already\nbegun; thine is the task to bear love and sympathy to weary mortals, to\nwhisper words of peace and hope, and to point them to a higher life.\nWhat more heavenly task than this! The divinest work for the soul is to\nfulfill the duty laid upon it. In thee we see the promise of labor to be\nwrought. Go on thy way, inspire the spirits of those thee doth approach\nwith faith and trust in the love of God; point each to the land of life\nbeyond the rolling tide of death; carry pure and gentle thoughts to\nmortals struggling with the trials of life; drop the sunlight of peace\nupon all whom thou dost meet. Thus canst thou and every spirit become a\nmessenger of joy, a missionary of hope and truth. God bless and guide\nthee in thy efforts for good.\u201d\n\nLike a holy benediction the words fell upon my spirit, filling me with a\nsense of love for all things. Then and there I resolved to do all in my\npower to cheer, enlighten, and instruct the sorrowing and the\nuninformed, feeling that in this I could perform my work, and also\nbrighten the golden links binding me to loved ones on the mortal side.\n\n\n A SPIRIT RETURNS TO COMFORT HER MOTHER.\n\nJust now my mind is filled with thoughts of an interview I have recently\nheld with a fair young girl, who but lately burst the bonds confining\nher to a material body. She was sad, very sad. All this life is new and\nstrange to her, and though surrounded by tender care and loving\nsympathy, yet filial affection draws her constantly back to those dear\nparents who, sorrowing as those without hope, cannot realize her\npresence with them.\n\n\u201cMy mother,\u201d she said to me, \u201coh, my mother! if I could _speak_ to her\nand tell her of my home in Heaven! But my death was such a heavy blow to\nher; she is so sad, so miserable, and I cannot help her!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can; you will bless and comfort your mother,\u201d I replied; \u201cif you\nwill come with me I will show you how to send a message to those you\nlove on earth. You have heard of a medium?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, but it would be no use for me to visit one. My friends would\nnot accept anything given them from such a source; they would believe it\nall nonsense. No, it is no use.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you can make such an effort to reach your mother, and if you fail\nit will be no worse to you than it is at present.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, it would,\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cI might not be able to give facts\nenough through another organism to establish my identity to my friends,\nand I think it would break my heart to have my love rejected. I would\nrather not attempt it.\u201d\n\nHowever, in a little while I gained the young lady\u2019s consent to\naccompany me to a spirit circle, and I hope ultimately to induce her to\nsend a message to her friends on earth. Her evident sorrow and distress\nhave filled me with deep solicitude to unite her in spirit with her\nsorrowing mother.\n\n\n JUST RECOGNITION OF RETURNING SPIRITS.\n\nHow true it is that hundreds of spirits, manifesting through organisms\nforeign to their own, and doing the best they can, expressing their love\nand sympathy, and bringing words of counsel and cheer to mortals, have\nbeen repulsed with distrust and suspicion, even with a positive denial\nof their presence, because they were unable to give every item of\nmaterial affairs demanded of them.\n\nSuch a reception of their efforts to communicate causes sensitive,\nloving spirits untold pain and sorrow; causes them to recoil from\nearthly conditions, and thus retards their manifestation to mortals.\nWere I upon earth, understanding this matter as I now do, I would accept\na loving, kindly communication, purporting to come from a spirit friend,\nnot with over credulity, but with the thought it may come from my friend\nwho is not yet able to give me all I wish to know; but I will not reject\nthis token of love, lest in doing so I spurn and wound my loving spirit\nfriend. In this way I would throw out a ladder of reciprocal love, upon\nwhich my dear one could descend and bear me tidings of immortal life,\nthereby strengthening conditions, until that spirit gained power to give\nme all my soul required.\n\n\n CONSOLATORY THOUGHTS FOR BEREAVED MOTHERS.\n\nWho can realize the anguish of a loving mother\u2019s heart when called upon\nto part with the mortal form of a beloved child? Others may sorrow and\nweep; the nearest kindred may realize with pain a vacancy in the family\ncircle, a niche in their love unfilled, that can never be occupied\nagain. But they have pursuits, and in time enjoyments, to call their\nattention, and soon their grief becomes a tender, sweet, yet holy,\nmemory. And well that it is so, for death was but a golden bridge over\nwhich their loved one passed to immortal shores, while she who left them\nbodily is unseen, simply because she has come so close to their hearts\nthat she can enter into their love, and permeate them with a spiritual\nradiance.\n\nBut the mother\u2019s heart is longest in healing. How she looks for her\ndarling to come to her! How she falls asleep weeping, and awakens with a\nsense of loss, of hopelessness that is almost akin to despair; and how\nshe hourly calls in spirit the name of the one child who is dearest to\nher because unseen!\n\nOh, darling mothers! Oh, sorrowing, heart-broken mothers! weep not; your\ndear ones are all around you, bringing love, peace, and comfort to your\nsouls. They are _not_ lost; sweet and low they whisper tidings of a\nhappy reunion yet to come; and though you know it not, their loving arms\nare around you, sustaining and strengthening. Their sweet lips meet\nyours; their white hands lead you onward toward the higher and the\nbetter life! Happy, blessed mother, who accepts this truth! To you it is\na pearl of great price,\u2014a crown of unspeakable glory.\n\n\n THE MINISTRATION OF SPIRITS.\n\nOh, let my mission be to impress the glowing truths of immortality upon\nthe hearts of grief-stricken mortals. To bear to mourning parents,\nbrothers, and sisters, sorrowing husbands, wives, and children; to those\nwho murmur because they believe death has torn their beloved ones from\ntheir grasp, this glorious conviction, that the dear ones are not\nbeneath the sod, nor do they dwell millions of miles away, beyond the\nstars, but amid the glowing sunbeams that fail around their mortal\nfriends, their tender faces shine; and through the golden mists of death\ntheir gentle voices are calling to loved ones here. Oh, friends, your\ndear ones are with you. Not one is lost, none are separated from you,\nthey come to you in the gloom or sorrow, or in the stillness of night.\nThey walk by your side and bless your lives. Whether your sight can\npierce the clouds of doubt and fear or not, your loved ones surely come,\nand by permeating your lives with a holier thought and purer aspiration,\nthey lead you nearer to the heavenly gates, which you shall one day\nenter, and finding your darlings close beside you, shall then know that\nthey have never died.\n\n\n THE RAIN OF THE SUMMER-LAND.\n\nA veil of silvery mist has gathered over my Summer-Land home, which is\nso fine and ethereal that it scarcely hides the golden sunlight that\nshines through the glittering vapor, turning it molten gold, and now and\nthen changing it to red and blue and every other rainbow hue. The\nshining mist, descending from snowy clouds, falls silently like a\nblessing of love upon the green sward, the fragrant flowers, and the\nbranching trees that look up with grateful joy to catch the refreshing\nbath. The far-off hills and mountains gleam through the lovely veil,\nwith a softened and subdued light that adds a new charm to their beauty.\nThe waters of stream and river murmur more musically sweet, as if\nconscious of the new power they will have gained when the mists have\ncleared away. The birds chirp contentedly in their leafy bowers, as if\nin welcome to this spiritual rain, and all life becomes animated anew,\nand thrilled with a sweeter power and strength.\n\nNo heavy storms, no tearing whirlwinds, come to sweep away the works of\nnature. Those are but the effects of forces working through matter\nalone, and belong solely to the mundane world; but softly, silently, and\nsweetly descends the rain of the Summer-Land, covering hill and dale,\nshrub and tree, with a tiny dew-like moisture, that brings new vigor and\nrefreshment to all things.\n\nAll alone in my quiet sanctum I sit and gaze out upon the golden mist;\nhalf lost in wonder and delight I ask myself, was ever anything so\nbeautiful as this? The very essence of _life_ seems descending in that\nspiritual shower, and under its influence my spirit rises as with new\nenergy, strength, and power.\n\n\n HAPPINESS OF SPIRITS IN COMMUNING WITH FRIENDS ON EARTH.\n\nFrom the contemplation of the beautiful works of God spread out before\nme, my thought flows out to dear ones who abide in the mortal form, and\nfilled with love and sympathy it reaches out to their hearts, forming a\nmagnetic chain which connects their lives with my own. A quiet peace\nstealing over those dear ones on earth, a happy sense of blissful repose\nfilling their souls, prove them to be _en rapport_ with the Higher Life;\nand though I do not leave my apartment in my spirit home, yet I can see\nand commune with the loved ones, and send out to them my thoughts upon\nthe chain of affection that binds each soul to mine; I know they receive\nthe message, and respond in the inner consciousness of their hearts to\nthese echoes from the spirit shore.\n\nBut though spirits may thus live close to their earthly friends, without\nleaving their upper homes, yet it affords us sweet delight to return in\nspiritual presence to the homes we loved on earth, and, by mingling with\ndear ones in the mortal, partake of their joys, participate in their\nsorrows, bless them with our affection, and, by silent impression upon\ntheir minds, permeate their thoughts with our ideas, and ever seek to\ndraw them upward and onward toward the beautiful and the good. _Such_ is\nthe blessed mission of many loving and devoted spirits who are working\nfor the soul elevation of friends on earth.\n\n\n POETRY OF THE SPIRIT SPHERES.\n\nIn my frequent visits to this medium I have sometimes encountered one\nwho, a poet when on earth, still delights to sing his melodies through\nthe lips of mortals, and at such times I have felt my spirit bathed in a\nhalo of light as I listened to his metrical utterances, or better still\ncame _en rapport_ with his spirit, saw the gems of thought therein, and\nwatched him weaving them into lines of richest grace and beauty. Oh, ye\nmortals, the poems you receive from minds on earth, whether given forth\nby the acknowledged poet, or through the organisms of mediums, are but\nthe shadows of a glorious reality above; they are but as skeletons\ncompared with the full and perfect forms, clothed with the majesty of\nperfected expression in the soul world; a mere outline, which conveys to\nyou perhaps an idea of the beautiful whole, as it flashes forth from the\nrealm of spirit.\n\nIn poesy as in music, and indeed as in all the arts and sciences, you\ncan never see its grand revealments, its possibilities and its powers,\nits radiance and its glory, until you drop from your shoulders the\nmantle of materiality, and stand forth all spirit, with an abiding\ndesire within your souls to find the beautiful, the holy, and the pure.\n\nThis poet soul,[3] of whom I speak, has at times requested me to give\nexpression to some of my thoughts in the golden light of poesy, to drape\nthem with the snowy robes of melodious song; but I shrink from the task,\nfeeling that I cannot do justice to the noble rules of rhyme and rhythm.\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n John Critchley Prince.\n\nSpirits do not, as a rule, underrate their own powers; there is no false\ndelicacy to be assumed; they understand something of the possibilities\nwithin, and eagerly and thankfully accept the opportunities afforded\nthem to cultivate their powers, and to develop these possibilities of\nthe soul.\n\nTherefore, though I do not at present feel to echo these sounds from the\nother shore through the channel of poetic expression, yet I do feel that\nsome time I may so develop my inner powers as to sing in measured tones\nand cadences the song of my spirit, the melody of my soul.\n\nBut there is one being on earth to whom I would bring the early efforts\nof my spirit, to whose name I would sing my first song, and over whose\nsoul I would pour the melody of my undying love. And so, feeble, crude,\nand imperfect though it be, I bring my song and sing it to\n\n\n MY MOTHER.\n\n Dear mother, when I found that I was dead,\n And that my soul had passed beyond the tomb,\n The first few, feeble words my spirit said\n Were: \u201cMother\u2019s heart is bowed in sadd\u2019ning gloom;\n And so I cannot leave her till you bring\n A balm of healing from the world above,\n And o\u2019er the anguish of her spirit fling\n A perfect peace from God\u2019s eternal love.\u201d\n\n And so the angel forms who met me there\n Brought rest and consolation to thy heart,\n Which, in the hour of holy, sacred prayer,\n Found heavenly peace that never can depart.\n Then from the scenes of earth I turned awhile\n To roam with spirit feet through realms above,\n Where all receive our heavenly Father\u2019s smile,\n And bask within the sunlight of His love.\n\n A perfect \u201chome not made with hands\u201d is there,\n But built by loving words and kindly deeds;\n A heavenly heritage of beauty, where\n The spirit finds each attribute it needs;\n And friendly faces throng the open door,\n With hands out-stretched in welcome to the soul\n Who turns in gladness from the earthly shore,\n And seeks to gain perfection\u2019s heavenly goal.\n\n Oh, mother! kind and true the angel friends\n Who cluster round me at the open gate;\n My soul with theirs in perfect concord blends,\n As patiently for thee we watch and wait;\n We guard thee with the deathless light of love,\n We bless thee with the calm of holy peace,\n We guide thy spirit on to realms above,\n Where sad heart-longings shall forever cease.\n\n The heavenly fields are fair with glistening green,\n And gemmed with blossoms of immortal bloom,\n That beautify the sweet enchanting scene,\n And scent the breezes with their sweet perfume;\n The sunlight smiles, and waters flow in glee,\n The woods reveal new depths of light and shade;\n The song-birds warble in each leafy tree,\n Or scatter dewdrops in the flowery glade.\n\n All life is gladness, and the spirit grows\n In perfect harmony with God above,\n And, catching higher inspiration, flows\n In grateful praises to the throne of Love.\n And so I cull its rarest gems and flowers\n To bless my mother, whom I love so well,\n And use its aspirations and its powers\n To guide her spirit home where angels dwell.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n REAL LIFE TN THE SPIRIT WORLD.\n\n\nMy object in writing these pages is to give mortals an idea of the real\nlife that is constantly passing in the spirit world, and to inform them\nof the conditions, surroundings, duties, labors, and pleasures of the\ndenizens of the immortal state. The unsightly and desolate places I\nshall describe are as real to their inhabitants as are the dark alleys\nand gloomy by-ways of your own large cities. But while city lanes and\nalleys have been occupied, and made unpleasant and unsightly by\ncarelessness and the neglect of physical comfort, these spiritually dark\nspots have been hedged in and rendered squalid and barren because of the\nsin and selfishness gathered around the inner life of those who linger\nhere, at the expense of the beautiful qualities of the soul that should\nshine out and make all places bright.\n\nThus, spirits whose earthly lives have been impure and selfish find\nthemselves surrounded by darkness and gloom when they enter the other\nworld. The objective scenes around them represent the wild, chaotic\nstate and barren results of their past lives, and present an appearance\nof great disorder. But as soon as they fully realize their terrible\ncondition, begin to mourn over their past errors and follies, and\nstruggle to arise out of such an unhappy state, the darkness commences\nto vanish, light dawns upon them, they find sweet fields where before\nappeared sterile rocks and sandy wastes; and they dimly feel and\nperceive the presence of ministering spirits, where previously all had\nappeared lonely and desolate.\n\nThen begins the struggle to break from old ties and associations that\nstill fetter the soul; then repentance and reformation commence, and the\nspirit pauses not until he or she has arisen out of old errors, and\ngained knowledge, light, and peace. Spirits of this class who have\npassed through the cleansing waters of suffering and trial, who have\nfelt the purging fires of tribulation, remorse, and contrition, do not\npause and rest content with their own deliverance from temptation and\nevil, but invariably become grand and efficient co-workers with those\nsweet missionary angels who delight to do good, and as messengers of\nlight spend their time in seeking to aid other unfortunates out of the\nslough of error or despondency.\n\nIn the spirit world there are many beautiful spots that present an\nappearance of peace and loveliness, even of grandeur and enchantment to\nthose who linger therein. Of these places I will speak to you\nby-and-bye, and you shall learn of the life and doings of their\ninhabitants. But first, I desire to devote a portion of this chapter to\nscenes and incidents I have witnessed among the unlovely and darksome\nhaunts and resorts of those spirits who have not yet arisen into the\nlight.\n\nWhat I am about to describe to you is far from being a heavenly scene,\nand yet it is a scene I myself have witnessed, when in company with a\nbeloved aunt, a veritable angel-missionary, I visited one of the many\nfields of her angelic labor.\n\n\n A DARKENED SPIRIT LED TO SEE THE LIGHT.\n\nA barren waste of sand and rocks spread out far and wide before us; no\nblooming plants, no lofty trees, no singing birds, to awaken music with\ntheir melody; all was silent, profound, deep desolation. At a distance I\ncould perceive the white foam and the dashing waves of angry waters\nbreaking upon a great line of cragged, dreary-looking rocks. Oh, what an\nappearance of unrestfulness was here!\n\nAt first I could perceive no signs of human life, not even a vestige of\nanimal existence. The place was too sterile, barren, and forbidding for\neven the very lowest form of conscious being.\n\nI turned to my companion in surprise at having been brought to such an\nunhallowed spot; perceiving which, she silently pointed to an object\nslightly in advance of us, which appeared to me but one of the many\nrocks about us, so thickly was it enveloped in a cloud of darkness; but\nwhich in a little time I discovered to bear a resemblance to a human\nform.\n\nThe figure was crouching down in the sand, its head bowed upon its\nknees, presenting a most abject and despairing appearance. It was\nevidently a male, and he seemed to be suffering intensely. I shall never\nforget the terrible pang that shot through me at the sight; nothing more\nthan that experience would I need through all my life, to pity,\nsympathize with, and seek to assist the miserable and unfortunate.\n\nI clearly saw that this unhappy soul could not perceive our approach.\nHis senses were absorbed in his own condition and discordant\nsurroundings; but we could trace upon the cloud-like vapor enveloping\nhim lines indicating that his had been a hard and bitter life. Misery,\nintemperance, impurity of life, had marked his way; unmourned and\nunregretted on earth, he had entered spirit life, engulfed in\ndegradation and despair. And then and there I learned that this place,\nappearing so terribly desolate, was typical of the earthly lives of\nthose who came here for a time, because of their unhallowed existence\nthrough mortality.\n\nDrawing closer, the angel with me spread her hands above the\nunfortunate\u2019s head, and presently little lines of light streaming from\nher white fingers began to permeate the darkness, and the being before\nus groaned and stirred restlessly.\n\nContinuing her work, my blessed companion made rapid passes over the\nform before us, the light still flowing down upon him from her fingers.\nHe trembled, great tears coursed down his cheeks, and at last he cried:\n\u201cOh, Lord, save me! Help me, and I will be a better man!\u201d\n\nIt was the cry of a spirit, struggling through the darkness, the\ndegradation and sin of years, yearning for light and praying for\nassistance.\n\nTo me the place began to grow bright and beautiful. The gloom became\npermeated with streaks of rosy light. Sweet music floated through the\nair, which had lost its stinging sharpness. I lost sight of the barren\nrocks, the desert sand, and the dashing waves. Only the praying, tearful\nbeing before me, bloated and disfigured as he was, and the shining\nspirit at my side, were visible to me. The man\u2019s tears redoubled, great\nsobs shook his frame, heavy sighs came welling up from his heaving\nbreast; broken murmurs of remorse, contrition, and despair fell from his\nlips.\n\nStill he did not see us; but to me the place grew brighter and brighter,\nuntil no ray of gloom remained.\n\nStill continuing her magnetic passes, my friend cast a beam of light\nover the man\u2019s face, and, looking up, he discovered her angel form bent\nin pity above him. Stretching out his hands with an imploring gesture,\nbut with no sound, the miserable being gazed and gazed, as if to drink\nin hope, encouragement, even life itself, from the beautiful sight.\n\nI soon became conscious of another presence beside me; an elderly\nfemale, bright, shining, beautiful, yet sad, very sad.\n\nCatching sight of this new face bending over him, the suffering spirit\ncried: \u201cMy mother, oh, my mother!\u201d and bowed his head from sight.\n\nDrawing me away, my companion said: \u201cWe will leave him now to his\nmother\u2019s tender care; she will help him to redeem himself. He is in the\nvalley of tribulation, but soon he will arise to liberty and happiness.\u201d\n\nIn company with that angel-missionary, my dear aunt, who passed from\nearth many years ago, a sweet, innocent maiden, I have many times\nvisited these dark by-ways where undeveloped spirits, surrounded by\ngloomy clouds, remain, many of them perhaps indifferent to their\ncondition. Yet we are always sure of finding one or more among them, who\nhas grown weary, and become anxious for more light and goodness; and\nwhen we find them in this frame of mind, it is a beautiful task to talk\nto them, show them how they may grow better, and little by little lead\nthem up to more pleasant conditions of existence.\n\n\n AN OUTCAST FROM EARTH RETURNS TO AID THE FALLEN.\n\nBut to go on with my description of places I have seen: A thick, almost\nimpenetrable forest, stretching out far and wide before us, its deep,\ndark undergrowth of shrubbery growing up in great thickets; tangled\nvines covering the trunks of the trees, and so interlaced that no\nsunbeams strayed through the leafy covert. No sound of singing bird, no\nscent of beautiful flower, could there be found. All was so dark, so\nlonely, so impervious, it seemed that not even a spirit might enter the\nconfines of the gloomy place. But as we approached, the seemingly\nobjective wood became subjective only; I found that we could pass\nthrough readily. In the depths of this forest, we came upon a female\nspirit, apparently asleep; wan, pale, and haggard, she presented an\nappearance of deep suffering.\n\nMy companion explained to me the meaning of this scene. This spirit had\nshortly before inhabited a mortal form. Tossed about here and there on\nthe waves of poverty and misfortune, scorned and neglected and despised,\nshe had felt herself an outcast from the human family, and in a fever of\ndespair had ended her mortal life by poison.\n\nHer wild longing for solitude, the hatred of society of any kind, her\ndislike to the city, and her desire to bury herself and her griefs in\nsome uninhabited spot, had surrounded her spirit with this deep forest,\nwithin which no step disturbed her lonely vigils. She had realized that\nshe could not kill the soul; she had found herself in this wild spot,\nalone and unclaimed, and for a time was thankful that no eye could look\nupon her.\n\nBut the silence, gloom, and solitude produced such an effect upon her\nspirit that a terrible reaction set in. She had had time to reflect, to\nrealize her past life, and the cause of much of her misery. She had\nwept, and at last even prayed; and here alone with herself she had\nrecognized her dependence upon humanity, and the duties she owed to it\nand to her own immortal nature. Then came a longing for companionship, a\ndesire to leave this dreadful place, and a wish that she might go away\nwhere she could begin a new life, and be happy, innocent, and good like\nothers.\n\nWeary with contending emotions, she had sunk down exhausted, and her\nguardian spirit, who was no other than her own mother, and who had never\nleft her, threw her into a deep trance, in which we found her, still\nattended by that mother-soul.\n\nRaising the stricken being in our arms, we three spirits bore her away\nfrom the solitude, gloom, and darkness out into a beautiful valley,\nwhere the sun shone warmly, the birds warbled in the branches of the\ntrees, the blue waters of a stream gurgled playfully between green\nbanks, where flowers bloomed in fragrance and beauty, and laying her\ngently upon one of the mossy beds, we assisted the mother-spirit in\nbringing back the senses of her child.\n\nSoon the blue eyes opened, and as they began to take in the scene around\nher, they filled with a happy light, and a peaceful smile played around\nher pallid lips. Very weak was this child of God, and we left her upon\nthe fragrant couch, where balmy breezes bore new healing to her weary\nframe.\n\nBut not long; again and again we visited her, and shortly after found\nthat she had been taken to a tiny, white cottage by her mother, where\nshe was constantly growing stronger and better.\n\nAt times, thoughts of the old life would cause her cheek to blanch and\nframe to shudder; but as she was so thoroughly regretful for whatever\nhad been wrong in her life, and was filled with such a desire to atone\nfor past errors, and to learn the laws of her being, to perform whatever\nwork my friend and teacher appointed her to do, she was so willing to\nlearn and so anxious to aid others, that the memory of earth at last\nceased to pain her, and now only serves to deepen in her soul a tender\nsympathy, and gentle, helpful love for the suffering and sin-tried souls\nwho dwell on earth.\n\nWe call her \u201cCharity,\u201d and she has become a tender helper wherever a\npoor soul is in need of strength or encouragement; she goes out alone\ninto the darkness, where others are suffering, and with her spirit love\ndispels the gloom, and sends rays of hope and mercy into the lowly\ndepths of degradation and sorrow.\n\nAbove I have described scenes I have witnessed in the inner or soul-life\nof individuals, whose moral perceptions were but insufficiently\ndeveloped, or had been warped and limited in action during their\nresidence in the material form. Let me attempt to convey to you an idea\nof a scene I not long since witnessed in connection with a terrible\ndisaster occurring upon the earthly plane.\n\n\n UNSEEN HELPERS AT A CONFLAGRATION.\n\nA terrible conflagration was raging in one of your large cities. Down\namong the business portions of the place, tenement houses, to be filled\nwith families of human beings, had been erected. They had grown brown\nand unsafe with age, yet were swarming with human beings\u2014a family of\nchildren, as well as grown persons, on every floor; and in this place a\nfire had broken out in the night, and had been raging for an hour before\ndiscovered. At last, relief came, but too late to save the lives of all\nthose poor, helpless creatures. The bodies of a number of children, as\nwell as men and women, were burned to a crisp in that holocaust of\nflame.\n\nAttracted to the scene by the sufferings and necessities of human\nbeings, hosts of invisible spirits penetrated the smoke and flame\n(which, though having no power to destroy disembodied beings, yet caused\na darkness and gloom to surround them), and in company with dear\nspirits, whose work is ever for the amelioration of suffering and\ndistress, I was privileged to approach with the hope of being of use to\nthose who were passing out from mortal life in the midst of fiery\nflames.\n\nAnd what a sight was there! Half-developed spirits, not realizing the\ngrandeur of the triumph of right over wrong, were gathering around, as\nif to gloat over the sufferings of the stricken ones before us; gathered\ntogether by the fascinating attractions emanating from the spirit of\nthat incendiary who had created this terrible blaze; and it seemed as if\nthey were delighted at the calamity taking place before us. But a noble\nband of spirits, drawn together by the ties of sympathy, and attracted\nto the place by the tender pity in their souls for the suffering,\napproached, and with them brought such a radiant light that the\nevil-disposed influences speedily departed.\n\nAnd then we turned our attention to the spirits struggling out from the\nflesh; by gentle magnetic passes we released them from the flame and\nsmoke and bore them away to pleasant scenes and blooming places in the\nspirit world, where nothing can destroy.\n\nThree little children it was our good fortune to release from a terrible\nsense of suffocation and fear\u2014dear little children, whom we bore away to\nthe Summer-Land, and placing them in a bower of blooming roses, we left\nthem in the charge of a kind mother-spirit, whose tender love and\nsoothing care would hush all grief and fear which might overtake them\nwhen they awoke from the deep magnetic sleep cast upon them by spirit\npower, in order to remove all traces of suffering and anguish.\n\nOh, could you witness from the spirit side of life the results of such a\nterrible conflagration as this, you would never rest until your streets\nwere so laid out, your buildings so constructed, and so remote from each\nother, that it would be impossible for a fire to spread among them and\ncarry such deadly mischief in its blazing folds.\n\nAnd yet, in spite of the awful scene of blackening smoke and lurid\nflames, the presence of evil-disposed influences attracted thither by\nthe destroying elements, the suffering, the misery and despair,\u2014in spite\nof these, the sight of high and exalted intelligences, whose interior\nlife brilliantly illuminated their features, and dispelled the darkness,\nabashed the evil-disposed, and stimulated the sympathizing efforts of\nmortals to aid the suffering, was a scene to be witnessed with joy;\ncreating within us a sense of thankfulness, that above and beyond all\nsorrow, evil and pain, there is a life peopled with unselfish, holy\nbeings, who glorify their Father by alleviating the pangs of the\nsorrowful and distressed. And I observed that around those kind souls in\nmortal, who were working with herculean efforts to save the lives and\nproperty of the tenants of these houses; around the noble firemen; the\ncrowd who were putting forth powers and desires to be of use; around\nthose who opened their homes for the destitute and suffering, a golden\nlight shone, and bands of helpful, shining spirits gathered, aiding with\nstrength and sympathy; and a light shone in the darkness of despair, a\nstar gleamed brilliantly above the light of human sympathy,\u2014the star of\nheavenly love.\n\nThe unpleasant, disagreeable, desolate places I have seen in my\nexperience of spirit life have been few indeed compared with the many\nbeautiful spots I have visited, and the scenes of grandeur, sublimity,\nor sweetness I have been privileged to look upon. I find that the\nnatural scenery of the spirit world far transcends in beauty of forms\nand coloring everything of the kind which exists upon the earth; for,\nthough the glowing sunset, the fairy-like sunrise, the exquisite\nblending of colors in fragrant flowers, the blooming vales, the\nluxuriant forests, the grand old mountains and foamy oceans belonging to\nearth combine to make up many a scene of indescribable beauty, yet these\nsame forms and tints, existing as they do in the spirit world, are so\nrefined, so delicate, yet so grand, majestic and glowing, that it is\nimpossible for mortals upon earth to comprehend their beauty, or to\nexperience the emotions of reverential delight and solemnity that a\nspirit feels while gazing upon the wonderful forms of nature, and\nlistening to the rapturous melody of sound rising from birdlings\u2019\nthroats, gurgling waters, and rustling leaves.\n\n\n ADVENT OF A MORTAL INTO SPIRIT LIFE.\n\nI will now describe to you, as well as I can, a beautiful scene I once\nwitnessed, the memory of which runs through my spirit experience like a\nstrain of music.\n\nNot a great while ago, there dwelt on earth a young girl of about twenty\nyears of age. Of delicate organization and slender mold, one could see\nthat want and suffering had been no stranger to her. Her home was in one\nof your large cities, where, in an humble dwelling, she lived alone with\nher invalid mother, whom she supported by the fruits of her needle.\n\nFor years she had plied that slender instrument\u2014which has indeed proved\nan instrument of torture to many a toiling, suffering woman\u2014patient,\nresigned, and cheerful, as long as she could earn the necessities of\nlife for her dear mother, who was unable to do much of anything for\nherself. It was thought that the mother would depart from the mortal\nlife long before the daughter; but exposure to a heavy storm had given a\nsevere cold to the poor girl, and in a few days she was pronounced dying\nwith pneumonia.\n\nWho can describe the terrible grief of the stricken mother as the\nlabored breathing of her child told only too well that the end was near!\nBut angels watched beside that humble bed, and when the last breath was\ndrawn, they mercifully cast a spell of unconsciousness over the mother\u2019s\nsenses, while they gently bore the arisen spirit to a haven of rest.\n\nIn the midst of a charming spirit vale, where beautiful flowers bud and\nbloom, and fill the balmy air with fragrance, where the stately trees\ncast a pleasant shade over many a mossy bank, where glistening waters\ndash musically along between beds and thickets of roses, and where birds\nmake music as they glance here and there in the soft and mellow light,\nthere is a bower composed entirely of roses, red and white, which lift\ntheir regal heads and offer incense to the breeze. This bower has been\nconstructed by loving angels for the resting-place of that beautiful\nspirit, whose illness and death I have just described.\n\nWithin the bower, upon a bed of dewy May-flowers and violets, the spirit\nform of the maiden reclines; she is robed in garments of white, arranged\nabout her by ministering spirits.\n\nShe has been resting, drawing long draughts of health and strength from\nthe flowers beneath and around her; the paleness disappears from her\ncheek, which loses its thin, attenuated appearance; the eyes no longer\nappear dim and sunken from exhaustion, but as they flash open, reveal a\nluster and beauty untold.\n\nShe starts, looks around, but perceiving the flowers, utters a low cry\nof rapture, and grasping the roses, May-flowers, and violets in her\narms, she presses them to her bosom and buries her face in the rich\nfragrance of their leaves. Never before has she seen so many fresh and\nbeautiful flowers together; never has she possessed so great a quantity\nof blossoms in her life; and she revels in their fragrant beauty with\nunmitigated delight.\n\nBut she is not long allowed to remain thus alone; loving spirits, gentle\nwomen, whose souls are all love and tenderness, enter the bower, and,\ntaking the maiden by the hand, give her loving welcome in kindly words.\nShe gazes upon them in delight; they appear to her the embodiment of all\nthat is lovely and pure; and as they kindly greet her in her heavenly\nhome, her spirit becomes filled with affection and gratitude for all\nthat she sees.\n\nNow she has recovered strength and is rested; her gentle companions bear\nher away from the bower of roses to a beautiful little cottage,\nembowered in flowers, which stands at the edge of the lovely valley. It\nis surrounded by a tiny flower garden, abounding with delicate colors\nand redolent with exquisite perfumes.\n\nThe cottage is open on the side, being composed of snowy lattice work,\nthrough which the golden sunbeams and the tender rose leaves stray. The\ninterior of this little dwelling is daintily though simply furnished in\nwhite and azure, and all betoken it to be an abode of purity and\nsimplicity. The new-comer is greeted at the entrance by a motherly,\nloving face, kindly hands out-stretched in greeting, and made to feel\nthat she is indeed at home.\n\nThe ministering band of spirits who have thus far cared for the\nnewly-arisen one, now leave her in the care of the motherly soul who has\nbeen awaiting her in the cottage home; and she immediately learns that\nthis new friend is her own grandmother, who has been dead for many\nyears. This is a home never dreamed of by the poor, working girl, and it\nseems almost like enchanted ground to her.\n\nBut a short time had passed since the spirit departed the body; she had\nlain in the bower of roses, tended by gentle missionary spirits; sunk in\na semi-unconscious condition, but wrapped in a sense of ecstasy, very\nexquisite to the weary soul, until after the burial of her body, when\nshe had been aroused and borne to her spirit home by her attendants.\n\nOh, how she enjoyed the sweet song of the birds, the balmy air and the\nfragrant flowers. The house she inhabited possessed no grand adornments;\nonly white drapery, rustic yet graceful furniture, polished floors, here\nand there a tiny picture or bit of color within; climbing vines and\nfragrant flowers without; yet all was beautiful and sweet; and best of\nall, this pretty home had been reared bit by bit from the daily life of\nits occupant. Patience, self-sacrifice, devotion to an invalid parent,\ncheerfulness, and a spirit of perseverance, that faltered not in the\nmidst of suffering, poverty, and affliction, together with an almost\npassionate love of the beautiful, had thrown out material from the life\nof this young girl that had been eagerly seized on by her spirit guides\nwith which to rear her cottage home.\n\nAnd within a tender grandmother had been domiciled to give her greeting\nand companionship. From the entrance of this little home, its occupants\ncould look out, beyond the blooming garden, into the glowing valley,\nwith its stately trees, its rippling brooks and mossy dells, with here\nand there a white homestead, around which gardens spread, and before the\ndoors of which children made glad music. Nestling between two massive\nmountain ranges, the crags of which glowed in the sunlight like bronze,\nor deepened into purple radiance at twilight, the valley presented a\nscene of smiling peace and tranquility.\n\nBut you are not to think the girl, who had been borne from the cares of\nmaterial life to this beautiful spot, had forgotten that invalid mother\nwhom she had left to suffer earthly sorrow and care. Not so; her whole\nsoul went out in love, sympathy, and longing toward that lonely parent,\nand guided by a slender cord of silvery light which, though invisible to\nothers, yet was always visible to herself, and which extended from her\nown spirit home to the spot where her mother lay, she constantly\nreturned to the side of her she loved so well, and by her ministrations\nsoothed many a weary pain, and eased her mother\u2019s passage to the spirit\nland.\n\nShe found that her mother had been removed from her former habitation to\none of the wards of a hospital, and she\u2014the spirit child\u2014found among the\nnurses one whom she could influence to act tenderly towards the invalid\nunder her care.\n\nBut it was not long that tenderness of earth was needed. The shock of\nher daughter\u2019s sudden illness and death was too much for the poor\ninvalid, and in one month from the decease of that daughter the mother\njoined her in the spirit world.\n\nAs I was privileged to be with the guardian band who had attended the\nyounger spirit into the Higher Life, so I also had the privilege of\nbeing present at the spirit birth of the elder woman; but the first to\ngreet her was that daughter who had preceded her to the immortal realms,\nand who now, radiant as an angel of light, returned to bear her mother\nto rest in her own sweet, little home.\n\nThe expressions of delight at her appearance from her mother first\ncalled the attention of the daughter to herself; for the first time\nsince her change she discovered that she was no longer pale, wan, and\nweary-looking, but radiant, bright, and beautiful. With the\nself-devotion so natural to her, she had been so absorbed in her\nmother\u2019s condition that she had no idea of the beauty which now\nenveloped her own being like a halo of light. These spirits,\u2014mother and\ndaughter,\u2014with the noble grandmother, dwell happily together in their\nvalley home; and their time is spent in doing good, and in influencing\nothers to assist the needy and suffering.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n ZENCOLLIA CITY AND ITS SURROUNDINGS.\n\n\nShall I speak of my surroundings in the Summer-Land? Shall I tell you of\nthe beautiful city that we in the eternal world call Zencollia,\u2014meaning,\nliterally, \u201ccity of light,\u201d\u2014so called from the brilliant rays which are\nreflected back from its towers, minarets, and gleaming walls when the\nsunlight falls upon them? The spires and towers of this beautiful city\ngleam in the distance as I am seated by my eastern window. Its white\nwalls, glistening with alabaster-like spotlessness, seem to tell of\npurity and peace.\n\n\n A TEMPLE OF LEARNING.\n\nAmid that wonderful array of exquisite workmanship a brazen temple\narises, its massive dome seeming to crown the structure with a coronal\nof living light. This grand temple I have visited in company with dear\nbrothers who have gained a comprehension of truth and knowledge in the\nwisdom-schools of spirit life, and who have become familiar with the\ninterior of this shining temple from frequent attendance upon the\ninstructive lectures delivered therein. The temple of learning in\nZencollia is the most massive building I have ever beheld. It is\nsurrounded by an open space paved with delicate pink and white tiles of\nshining, translucent stone. A flight of variegated marble steps leads to\nthe vestibule, which is also paved with pink and white tiles.\n\nThe building contains four spacious halls, the finest of which is\ndedicated to Science, the second to Literature, the third to\nMetaphysics, and the fourth to Music. Each hall is furnished with roomy\nseats for the accommodation of the audience; a raised platform at the\nfarther end, upon which stands a marble table, and a cushioned seat,\nsomething like a capacious sofa, serves for the accommodation of the\nspeakers or instructors.\n\nThe floors are all paved with variegated marble,\u2014white, streaked with\ndelicate pink and sea green; the pillars are of carved ivory; the walls\nare adorned with beautiful paintings, representing some illustration of\nthe nature of the work to which the hall is dedicated; while the lofty\nceilings are frescoed in the faintest azure, white and gold.\n\nOne of my companions, a student in the hall of science, was eager for my\nadmittance there as a spectator, which was soon obtained. At the time of\nmy visit the seats were filled with a throng of people, young and old,\nand of both sexes. The lesson was on the laws of chemistry; and the\nspeaker, a gentleman apparently forty years old, but whom my brother\nassured me had been in the spirit world many decades of years, had a\nnumber of strange-looking instruments before him, with which to\nillustrate his theme, and to prove the truth of his theories by\nexperiments.\n\n\u201cDo you notice that gray-haired gentleman in front, the one with the\nhigh forehead, whose penetrating, searching gaze seems to be taking in\nevery movement of the speaker?\u201d whispered my companion. I nodded assent.\n\n\u201cThat is Michael Faraday, the scientist; and I tell you he is as earnest\na student as any of us; he attends all our conventions. He has been\ninvited to take part in the exercises, but declines, preferring to study\nrather than teach. Oh, I tell you, Sis, a good many of earth\u2019s smartest\nmen come here or go to other places to learn, when they reach spirit\nlife.\u201d\n\nThe lesson of the day was very instructive, and the experiments\ninteresting; but as they were new to me, and far advanced, I did not\nunderstand them very well.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you what, Miss Ammidown,\u201d said brother J., playfully, as I\nexpressed my amazement at some of the results of the professor\u2019s\nexperiments, \u201cI\u2019ll bring you here when we have a lesson on Electrical\nLife, and you shall see the teacher produce some most wonderful results\nwithout the aid of instruments. You look incredulous; but, Kitty, that\nis only because you have been used to earthly, material instruments.\nHere we can make use of the currents of electricity without any such\nadjuncts. You shall witness some of my own private experiments some\ntime. You have a great deal to learn yet.\u201d\n\nAnd, indeed, I felt like a child who had just entered into the wonderful\narena of knowledge, and saw spread out before her strange sights, and\nheard strange sounds, which she could not comprehend, but which seemed\ndeliciously clear and interesting to those around her. This was long\nago, but the feeling clings to me yet; and I feel there is so much to\nlearn and understand, one can never be idle.\n\n\n HALL OF METAPHYSICS.\n\nTo the Hall of Metaphysics we wandered. Here the speaker was a female;\nbut although the ideas she expressed were grand and beautiful, the\nlanguage with which they were clothed was almost too abstruse for me.\n\n\u201cI brought you here, dear sister,\u201d said my companion, \u201cnot because I\nexpected you to understand the proceedings; you are too familiar with\nearthly expressions for that as yet; but that you might visit a place\nwhere those filled with lofty ideals concerning the soul, and its\nrelations to life, meet to exchange thoughts and to learn of each other.\nEmerson[4] will delight to frequent this place when he comes over to our\nside of life. We have scores of other places,\u201d he continued, \u201cwhere such\nteachers as Theodore Parker, Channing, and hundreds of like noble souls,\nhold forth with earnest utterance for the lifting up and sanctification\nof the people. These you can understand; and their teachings are\ngenerally delivered in some airy chamber or leafy grove, where all the\nsurroundings and conditions are conducive to the worship of God. You\nwill visit many of these with those who love you.\u201d\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n This was written some time before Ralph Waldo Emerson ascended to the\n higher life.\n\n\n THE HALL OF LITERATURE.\n\nWe did not tarry long in the Hall of Metaphysics. The teacher was\ngrandly beautiful, clothed in flowing robes of classic style; her speech\ngently modulated; her gestures graceful; her mien earnest and\nconvincing; and to those who understood she appeared to furnish a feast\nof good things. I felt humbly penitent, because I could not comprehend\nthe whole; observing which, my guide hurried me away to the Hall of\nLiterature.\n\nHere I could appreciate, for I understood. The services were conducted\nby a number of men and women, who favored us with sketches of real life,\nnot published, but what they had themselves witnessed; also readings\nfrom eminent authors, bits of rare, descriptive power, rich delineations\nof gifted writers, with extracts from their productions; followed by\nexpressions of gorgeous imagery and brilliant passages of poetry. Here I\nwas deeply interested, and the more so, because my companion pointed out\nto me the presence of gifted men and women, whose works I had admired\nand read on earth with never the hope of meeting them in person.\n\n\n THE HALL OF MUSIC.\n\nBut I must hasten. With all the wonderful things I had seen and heard,\nwhat shall be said of the Hall of Music? The whole front of this\nspacious hall is a raised balcony, upon which the performers and\nchoristers are generally seated.\n\nHere we were joined by a dear sister, who I shall designate as May; like\nthe May-flowers, she is beautiful and sweet; and hand clasped in hand,\nin silence,\u2014and so far as I was concerned, in awe,\u2014we listened to the\nenchanting strains of music evoked from stringed and keyed instruments,\nby the skillful fingers of their manipulators; and to the deep, rich\ntones, or bird-like, thrilling notes of the singers\u2019 voices. I can never\ndescribe it. What I have said is but a faint type of all I witnessed in\nthat marvelous temple; but the music!\u2014the music was so grand, so\npowerful, so uplifting, and yet so sweet, so subtle, so enchanting, that\nI seemed floating away, with no thought but to soar upward to the very\nthrone of Life and Love.\n\nAll petty affairs of life, all outward sense of existence melted away;\nand in the pure atmosphere of that celestial melody, my soul asserted\nitself in all its purest aspirations for the perfect completeness of\nlife.\n\nI love Zencollia for its divine harmony of sweet, inspiring music; and,\noh, dear ones I love on earth, could you have been with me in spirit, my\nbliss would have been complete.\n\n\n SOCIAL LIFE IN ZENCOLLIA.\n\nIn walking through the streets of beautiful Zencollia City, I have\nobserved the perfect freedom of its inhabitants, the undisguised manner\nof living, the open frankness, and the confidence each one seems to\nrepose in his neighbor, and also the unceremonious hospitality of each\nhousehold; for every passer-by is welcome to enter, rest, refresh\nhimself, and examine whatever excites an interest in his mind.\n\nI have noticed this, because at first it appeared very strange to me\u2014so\nat variance with the customs of mortals, who shut themselves up in their\nhomes, becoming sometimes exclusive and ceremonious in their bearing\ntoward others.\n\nBut I have learned that while it would be unwise and unsafe for mortals\nto leave their homes open to the inspection of every curious passer-by,\nand imprudent in the extreme for them to invite every stranger into\ntheir households, it is perfectly safe to do so in the spiritual city\nZencollia, whose inhabitants are pure and spotless, who have become\npurged from all gross and carnal appetites and habits, who do not gossip\nand slander, who love each other, whose families are bound by the\nclosest ties of tender sympathy and affection, and whose lives are so\npure, so devoted to the welfare of others, they have nothing to conceal.\n\nEvery home is a shrine of prayerful praise; every family bows at the\naltar of Infinite Wisdom; each inhabitant has some lesson to repeat, or\nsome experience to rehearse to the new-comer into these high spheres,\nthat will be a guide to his feet; every habitation contains something of\ninterest to the stranger who may have but recently ascended to the upper\ncourts of Zencollia. And there is no risk in entertaining the stranger;\nfor no impure, selfish, worldly-minded spirit can enter Zencollia; he\ncould not breathe its refined atmosphere, the brilliancy of its light\nwould blind him. For while it is true that exalted spirits can descend\nto lower spheres or conditions, where grossly-minded intelligences\ndwell, surrounded by the darkness which their mental state throws off,\nand there minister to the necessities of those earth-bound souls, yet it\nis as impossible for those spirits to _ascend_ to the upper heights as\nit is for mortals to pierce the heavenly worlds with their material\nbodies; for as the physical keeps you down to earth, so the weight of\npassion keeps those spirits down.\n\nTherefore, no impure spirit enters Zencollia, and none who dwell there\nfear to entertain the stranger, for all the inhabitants of that\ncelestial city are possessed of clear vision, and they can readily read\nthe interior thought and desire of whoever comes within their sphere.\n\nThe dwellers in that happy city associate together in groups, all\nworking for the common good; each obeys the law which all assist in\nframing; everyone contributes to the welfare of the people, the\nbeautifying of the city, the maintaining of free, open schools of\ninstruction, and in upholding a good government.\n\nI have often thought of the beauty and glory of this sweet life, wishing\nthat I could cause mortals to view it as I do,\u2014to view and to emulate,\nto bring down something of its happy conditions to earth; for then there\nwould be no need of prison-walls, no cause for corporeal punishment, but\nlove and justice would reign supreme, and the millennium, long foretold\nby prophet and seer, dawn upon the new earth.\n\n\n INTERIOR VIEW OF ZENCOLLIA.\n\nZencollia, \u201cCity of Light,\u201d the sight of thy white walls, gleaming in\nthe distance, recalls a vision of thy beautiful streets, so unlike the\ncity streets that mortals know. No jarring noise disturbs the serenity\nof thy places; and yet the ceaseless murmur, the ever-present appearance\nof active, energetic life within thy limits, proclaim that therein is\nfound sentient, individualized, conscious existence.\n\nThe edifices so beautifully constructed of shining stone, artistically\nadorned with carvings of exquisite grace and symmetry, do not crowd and\nelbow each other for want of space; but each building stands within its\nown enclosure, surrounded by garden plats and banks of emerald green.\nLofty trees, whose umbrageous foliage furnishes a cooling shade, are\nscattered here and there, giving an aspect of natural beauty to the\nscene. The very streets, though paved through their centres with\npolished stones, are fringed on either side with grassy leaves and\nnodding flowers, which no careless foot seeks to trample down.\n\nAnd yet, it is a city, vast and magnificent. Its massive buildings, its\ncountless inhabitants, all mark the difference between it and the town\nor country. At regular spaces, great plats, enclosing flowery beds of\nevery variety of color and perfume; tiny lakes and gushing fountains;\ngleaming pavilions, furnished with rustic seats and tables; small groves\nof shade trees, tiny grottoes and fairy glens, where birds make music\nthrough all the sunny day\u2014are kept under constant care and cultivation\nfor the enjoyment of all who wander therein; and it is no uncommon thing\nfor groups of harmonious spirits to gather together in one of these\ngardens, and spend an hour in that communion of soul expressed in the\nsinging of hymns, the exhortations from inspired lips, or the\nencouraging words given from one to another, that lift the spirit still\nnearer the Infinite Light that pervades in some measure all space and\npermeates all life.\n\n\n A CONVOCATION OF WOMEN.\u2014EQUALITY OF SEX.\n\nI have recently attended a convocation of women, in one of these city\ngardens, earnest, noble, true-souled women, who met together to discuss\nplans and devise measures for the welfare of their sister-women upon the\nearth. They had gathered together to send forth their silent,\npenetrating, uplifting sympathy toward those who are crowded almost out\nof existence, either by the pitiless hand of poverty, or shunned and\nscorned because of the unfortunate lives circumstances have compelled\nthem to lead.\n\nIn the realm of spirit, our societies are not confined to one sex; there\nis no exclusiveness; woman is not considered incompetent to discuss the\nquestions of life with her brother. Men do not meet in club or barroom,\nto revel in scenes they would blush to have their sisters witness,\nneither do women have their sorosis, that the gentlemen cannot enter, or\nsewing-circle, where gossip and slander\u2014those tender tid-bits so\ndelicious to some tastes\u2014are woven into the garments they fashion, with\ntheir pernicious and malicious influence.\n\nEach convention, every organization is founded upon the polished square\nof Equality, and membership is freely extended to male and female alike;\nthus rounding out the perfect circle of harmonious life. But this\nconvocation of which I speak, composed entirely of women\u2014tender,\nhelpful, loving women\u2014who have witnessed the struggles and the sorrows\nof those dear children of humanity, whom mortals consider lost, but whom\nangels know shall yet be redeemed to honor and virtue, was called\ntogether because it had become evident to thinking minds that the\nso-called Progress of Humanity will remain but a sham, until society\nawakens to the fact that while one outcast remains outside the closed\ndoor of fraternal sympathy, while one poor sufferer is refused the\nhelping hand or kindly word, to encourage her onward toward the highway\nof goodness, it is an agency of intolerance, and unworthy the name it\nbears.\n\nAnd so, out in the bright, clear air, with the radiant sky above their\nheads, the flowery sod beneath their feet, where the grand old trees\nchanted their anthems of glory, as the breeze swept through their\nbranches, these spirit women met, and with earnest faces and solemn\nwords, dedicated themselves to the high mission of going one by one out\ninto the material world to sow seeds of love and good-will in the hearts\nof mortals,\u2014going forth from their beautiful spirit homes as teachers to\nhumanity; and the one little lesson, so easy to read, so hard to\nremember and weave into practical life, which they seek to implant in\nhuman hearts, is this: \u201cJudge not, but extend the friendly hand, the\nkindly word and smile, even more if you can, the cup of water and the\nmeal of bread, to the poor unfortunate, whose life is bowed beneath the\nweight of its own mistakes, and who bears more punishment within the\nsoul than you can dream it possible for one to endure.\u201d\n\nAnd so, from out the company of that heavenly band, whose influence\nstills all commotion, whose presence breathes a blessing of comfort and\npeace upon the passing spirit, I come to you today, dear reader, and in\nthe tones of love say unto you of earth: \u201cOh, cultivate the truly\nChrist-like principles within you; develop the germs of benevolence,\ncharity, patience, sympathy, and kindness, and let them flow out from\nyour souls toward all those\u2014whether male or female\u2014who tread the paths\nof sorrow or vice, until like a cleansing flood they roll in waves of\nlight over their sin-stained souls. Be just; give unto every soul the\nfull measure of love that you would crave for yourself! Then shall the\nage of humanity become indeed a golden age, the fruitage of which will\nshine forth in noble lives, in redeemed lives, and in progressive lives;\nand society so blossom under the developed influence of Love and\nSympathy as to shed its wealth of fragrant beauty over the hearts of all\nhumanity, and every soul be known by the endearing name of brother or\nsister.\u201d\n\n\n DWELLERS IN ZENCOLLIA.\n\nThe dwellers in Zencollia are calm, peaceful, happy souls, who, having\nknown the cares, the sorrows and the temptations of mortal life have,\nthrough their earnestness, through their aspirations, risen above all\nthe annoyances of external things, and grown into harmony with the law\nof Love, which is the law of God. Associating together in bands of\nfraternal sympathy, they spend their time in devising ways and means to\nalleviate the condition of those bowed down by woe and suffering, to\nenlighten the ignorant, comfort the distressed, and free the imprisoned\nsoul from error\u2019s bondage, whether it be encased in mortal flesh, or\ndwelling in darkness of spirit.\n\nThey have founded schools of learning, colleges, where eminent teachers\nin the various branches of knowledge preside, and give forth their\nwisdom to the seeking mind, drawing forth and developing all the\ndeepest, fullest powers of comprehension, and awakening all the noblest\nfaculties of the student.\n\nInvestigation into the realms of Natural Law proceeds with minute\nexactness; experiments which test conclusions as to the cause, utility,\nand result of chemical and electrical forces are carried on; and schools\nare constantly sending out graduates, whose duty it is to search\nearnestly among the children of earth until they find minds capable of\nreceiving, brains enlarged by earnest thought and study, competent to\ngrasp and elaborate the ideas the spirits give, in order to convey to\nearth a practical demonstration of their experiments and investigations.\n\nSuch is Zencollia\u2014happy, peaceful, industrious city of light; and as I\ngaze upon its glittering walls from my casement, I seem to feel a\npulsating thrill, emanating, as it were, from its center, of good will\nto man, coursing through my being, until I become one in sympathy with\nthe divine mission of its dwellers, which is, love toward God,\nmanifested through love and helpfulness toward all creatures, all\nthings.\n\nThis is but one of the many cities of that spirit country, that no\nthought can measure, no being scan. It is dearest, because nearest to\nme; yielding light, instruction, soul-sustenance to myself and to those\nI love. But there are countless other cities as glorious, peaceful, and\nennobling, of which I shall speak in future pages. Among them may I\nmention Spring Garden City, home of intellect, philosophy and truth;\nHarmonial City, abode of wisdom, purity, and peace; Washingtonia, within\nwhose walls dwell knowledge, justice, and freedom; and many another that\npresents a beautiful record of noble lives and enduring deeds, that\nshall outlast all perishable evidence of grandeur!\u2014for they are engraved\nin spirit, and can never tarnish or decay.\n\nOh, darling friends in mortal, from the boundaries of that sweet city of\nlight, we waft you spirit-greeting, love that shall know no change,\nsympathy that outlives all outward separation, and only grows the\nsweeter; peace that the world can neither give nor take away, and which\npasseth all understanding.\n\n\n A SUBURBAN VIEW.\n\nI have told you of the beautiful city of light, so near my spirit home;\nlet me now speak of the natural surroundings upon which I may\ncontinually gaze in an ecstasy of delight from my western portico, or\nwhere I may roam at will, filled with the bliss of knowing the truth of\nexistence, and its enjoyment among the beautiful works of Nature, that\nkind mother of us all, who brings her sweet offerings of waters, woods\nand flowers, birds and insects, mountains and hills, for the\ngratification and pleasure of humanity.\n\nClose beside the home I inhabit a sweet vale lies, decked with fertile\nmeadows and sunny glades, watered by glistening streams and rippling\nbrooks, shaded by magnificent oaks and elms, and gemmed with starry\nflowers of every hue and of delicious fragrance.\n\nThickets of roses, blooming in rich profusion, dot the landscape here\nand there\u2014roses independent of limited days and weeks, but which blossom\non from day to day, one bud bursting into beauty after another, and no\none left to bloom alone.\n\nA grove of giant pines make music through this leafy vale, as the\nbreezes sweep through their rustling branches; the carol of birds, the\nhum of insects, the rippling of waters, and the music of murmuring\nbreezes, all combine to form a sweet harmony of sound, that, blending\nwith the pure harmony of beautiful scenery, brings rest and peace to the\nsouls of all who linger here.\n\nSweet spirit vale! dear Auburndale! for such I love to call you; within\nyour borders, in sweet communion with God and Nature, the soul becomes\npurged of all material impurities, and grows into closer harmony with\nthe sacred laws of being\u2014Love, Sympathy, and Purity.\n\nAway in the distance rises that majestic pile which to me is Mount\nLookout; and as the sunlight rests upon it in gorgeous splendor, I know\nthat upon my earthly home the sun is slowly sinking, in lines of rose\nand purple glory, behind the western hills.\n\nWho could dream of pain and sadness amid the sunny sweetness of this\nenchanting vale? And yet, even here sometimes comes from a-far a sound\nof distress and anguish, brought plainly to our spirit ears by the waves\nof sympathy that surge within our souls; and we hear the wails of pain\nwelling up from earth life, and mark the signs of devastation and\ndistress bearing down upon the friends in mortal.\n\nBut why is this? Because from the depths of human suffering, pain, and\ndeath, that we see around us, a heavenly sympathy is born within our\nsouls, and we become desirous of helping those in need, a sympathizing\npity, prompting us to extend the cord of love we hold, until it\nencircles and draws upward, into realms of ineffable peace, the\nstorm-tossed spirits in pain.\n\nDisasters come to earth\u2014conflagrations, misfortune\u2014and from them often\nresult suffering and death; but, glory to Him who rules! from the midst\nof these scenes of sorrow arise pure streams of helpfulness, strength,\nand succor for the distressed, that not only enriches the receiver, but\nalso overflows with sympathy and blesses the soul of the bestower.\n\nUp from the surging billows of distress, out of the fiery furnace of\naffliction, arises the pure Spirit of Love, cleansed by its contact with\nwater, or refined by its passage through fire\u2014noble, enduring,\ntrue\u2014growing stronger and better from its upward flight, seeking as it\ngoes the sympathy of angels, who, looking downward from the upper\nheights, send forth the sustaining cord of affection to draw the spirit\nupward, singing as it arises this grand refrain refrain\u2014\n\n \u201cNearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee;\n E\u2019en though it be a cross that raiseth me.\u201d\n\n\n MY HOME; ITS LIFE AND ASSOCIATIONS.\n\nThe home I inhabit in the Celestial Sphere would appear to mortals as a\nlarge, spacious, white mansion, surrounded by porticoes, verandas, and\nthe like, the doorways opening upon a scene of surpassing loveliness;\nfor there Nature wears her richest robes to beautify external life.\n\nThe interior of this habitation you would observe to be divided into\nvarious apartments, each furnished with appropriate furniture and\nhangings, the whole designed to harmonize in a perfect blending of form,\ncolor, and texture, pleasing to the eye and restful to every sense of\nthe beholder.\n\nWe have private apartments of our own, where, when in need of mental\nrepose, silent study, or deep meditation, the spirit may retire, apart\nfrom all companionship save that which breathes through every breadth of\nspace\u2014the presence of its God.\n\nThere are times in every life when it is best to be alone, when the\nspirit requires silent, undisturbed self-communion, when outward\npresence is an intrusion upon the soul; and at such times we are\nprivileged to retire to our own private sanctum, unquestioned and not\nmisunderstood by others.\n\nIn my pleasant spirit home there is a quiet nook, where I love to retire\nand ponder over the great problems of life constantly unfolding\nthemselves before me; and there, surrounded by the beautiful in nature\nand art, natural flowers climbing over marble statuary, singing birds\nmaking music beneath some exquisite painting, I strive to unravel the\nseeming mysteries of existence; and not in vain, for to the earnest\nseeker after truth there comes a flood of light, illuminating the dark\nplaces and answering all silent questioning.\n\nBut my home contains apartments where sociability reigns, and there a\nhappy band of spirits daily congregate to amuse, instruct, and bless\neach other; there, social converse, mingling with the recital of some\nexperience, lesson, or advice, pleasant faces and loving hearts, fill\nthe place with that harmony and peace only to be found where spirit\nmeets spirit in sympathy and appreciative kindness. Eight of us, all\nyoung souls, meet together hour after hour, bringing each one his or her\nstore of acquired knowledge, or displaying his or her ignorance upon any\ntheme, only to have it dissipated by some new truth revealed to our\nunderstandings by others. We are never unhappy, never restless, never\nidle. In earthly experience others are far younger than myself; but in\nspiritual love and life I am the youngest of them all, and it refreshes\nmy soul to partake of what those I love have to offer in the way of\nacquired knowledge.\n\nThis is a sample of group-home-life in the spirit world; a band of\nloving, earnest spirits, whose highest ambition is to become great in\nknowledge, that they may understand the laws of life, and thereby be\nable to avoid mistakes, and competent to transmit a light and knowledge\nof life to poor, darkened, misguided souls, who moil in sorrow and pain.\nThe members of these groups or bands are guarded and protected,\ninstructed and upheld, by wisdom spirits, who, having dwelt in mortal\nuntil the physical ripened naturally for the change, passed on to enjoy\nthe fruits of their experience, and, having dwelt long in the spiritual,\nare competent to guide and instruct these young souls bound to their own\nby the ties of soul-affinity, as well as those of consanguinity, yet\nconfined by no arbitrary laws that chain and restrain the higher\nemotions; thus our lives flow smoothly on, and each moment of existence\nbrings us some new lesson, or some new opportunity of being of use to\nsome one of the many spirits who walk the paths of sin or suffering.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER V.\n PLACES I HAVE SEEN.\n\n\nYou have heard of Zencollia City, with its peaceful homes and stately\ntemples. Let me now speak to you of that sweet, blooming, delightful\nSpring Garden City, where the good, the beautiful, and the noble gather\ntogether to engage in works of love for humanity. It is impossible for\nyou of earth to conceive of the magnitude and extent of this spirit\ncity, which seems almost boundless in width and length.\n\nThe habitations are of various hues and textures; many of them standing\nin the midst of luxuriant groves, where the branches of stately trees\ncast a pleasant shade, and where birds make music all the sunny day; or\nin the center of blooming gardens, where parterres of beautiful flowers\nmake the balmy air redolent with perfume and the landscape to glow with\nbeauty.\n\nThese habitations, built as they may be of spotless, alabaster-like\nstone, marble, or a particular kind of variegated stone, peculiar to\nthis place, which seems almost translucent, as it gleams in rainbow\ncolors beneath the shining sun, are all furnished and adorned with soft,\nvelvet-like draperies, snowy hangings, pure white tables and seats,\nbeautiful, life-like pictures, ivory statuary, and hanging baskets of\nflowering plants, and present a picture of home-like comfort and\nhospitality.\n\nMany of the houses are open at the sides, the ceilings being supported\nby exquisitely carved columns of stone, around which emerald vines,\nladen with fragrant flowers, climb and cluster; and the passer-by can\nnote the appearance of purity, peace, and comfort within.\n\n\n THE PEOPLE OF SPRING GARDEN CITY.\n\nThe inhabitants of this celestial city are ever busy, either devising\nsome new method of aiding and assisting the distressed, attending some\nof its many schools of instruction, its halls of music and literature,\nor working together in bands to elevate and instruct needy souls upon\nearth, or in the lower realms of spirit life.\n\nThese spirit people dress simply and naturally, in flowing robes, of any\ncolor which most harmonizes with their interior condition; they are all\nbeautiful, a light radiating from each countenance, an expression of\npeace and contentment upon each face, and a smile upon the lips; all of\nwhich beautify the features and cast a halo of brilliancy around the\nform.\n\nBeautiful groves, watered by running streams, shaded by lofty trees, and\nmade charming by banks of velvety moss, starred with fragrant blossoms,\nare seen in the midst of this city of souls; and in these spots beneath\nthe blue canopy of the sky, inhaling the perfumed invigorating air, many\nspirits daily congregate to listen to words of advice, instruction, and\nwisdom from inspired lips. And from these places the inhabitants of\nSpring Garden City go forth to their homes, exalted in spirit, or come\ndown to mortals who dwell in sorrow, and shed over them the divine\ninfluence caught from higher scenes, which uplifts and strengthens the\nstruggling ones below.\n\n\n CHILDREN\u2019S LYCEUM.\n\nIn the center of one of the largest, most beautiful groves, where\nrippling waters, breezes swaying the leafy branches of the trees, and\nthe song of birds send a constant stream of melody through the air, made\nfragrant by odorous flowers, a stately temple stands. It is of burnished\nsilver, which flashes and glows in the light of the sun. Within, its\nwalls are hung with landscape paintings, and draperies of azure satin.\nThe floor is of white marble, and the spotless ceiling is frescoed with\npaintings of marvelous beauty.\n\nHere the spiritual lyceum of Spring Garden City daily convenes its\nsessions, where spirit children are taught the duties and the lessons of\nlife. Some of the most exalted and brilliant souls resident in that city\nare teachers and guardians in this school, and it is their delight to so\ncultivate and train the young minds under their charge that only the\nbeautiful attributes of the soul will grow, and the selfishness of life\nshall be eradicated. And it is because of the instruction and\ndevelopment received in such schools as this that little children can so\nreadily return to earth, and bless and comfort weeping mortals with\ntheir sweet words of sympathy and love.\n\n\n HARMONIAL CITY.\n\nHarmonial City is a broad, beautiful, extensive city of the spirit\nworld. Its streets are literally shining, broad and straight, paved with\nblocks of cool, white stone of great purity, and lined on either side\nwith beautiful, fragrant flowers.\n\nIn the center of each street, a fountain constructed of a material\nresembling silver, carved in the most wondrous designs, sends forth jets\nof crystal water, which rise in fan-like shapes and fall again in\ngleaming sprays upon the beds of flowers blooming at the fountain\u2019s\nbase, whence a cloud of sweet perfume rises to scent the balmy air.\n\nAt regular intervals, in this city of the spirits, beautiful parks are\nlaid out, abounding in all the natural beauty of flowers, trees,\nshrubbery and water, serving to delight the eye and calm the senses of\nthe soul.\n\nThe habitations of this city of harmony are formed or fashioned of\nvarious substances, each dweller building his mansion to suit himself;\nhence we observe the tiny, white vine-embowered cottage, with its\nsurrounding flower garden, side by side with the stately mansion,\nenvironed with smooth walks and velvety lawns.\n\nThe inhabitants of this place are particularly sympathetic and\nharmonious; they are at peace with all the world and their own souls;\nthey take no active part in the turmoils and strifes of others; they do\nnot commune with earth save only as they transmit their messages through\nspirit intelligences below them.\n\nHere are grand and massive temples, more richly draped and ornamented\nthan any I have elsewhere seen; temples dedicated to Poesy, Music,\nLiterature, and Philosophy. Here the active, critical, keen-searching\nscientist is not at home; but the musician, the poet, the philosopher,\nand the idealist find a heaven.\n\nThe poetry that delights the soul of the bard is here breathed forth\nthrough flower and streamlet; all the surroundings seem made up of\npoetry, so fragrant, sweet, and subtle is the calm, beautiful life we\nbehold in this wonderful city. Well may it be named Harmonial City; for\nits very atmosphere, its pretty homes, its adornments, and the features\nand forms of its inhabitants, all breathe of harmony and peace. The\ndwellers within this city I am told seem not so much like members of one\nfamily, as parts of one healthy body, each performing its function and\nduty, the whole harmoniously blending in one form of symmetry and\nbeauty; and I can well believe this, from what I have seen of them.\n\nIn this city, musicians, poets, artists, and\nidealists\u2014transcendentalists, if you will\u2014love to congregate in their\nrespective temples, which are ever open to all who wish to enter, and by\ncontact with each others\u2019 minds throw off new strains of harmony in\nverse, outline some new work of beauty, develop some beautiful idea, or\nevoke a new melody of the spheres. And from these master-souls beautiful\nideas, melodies, and ideals come floating down to earth. Transmitted\nthrough the atmosphere below, they eventually awaken an echo in the\nheart of some aspiring soul,\u2014when, lo, a new poem, a new strain of\nmelody, a new harmonious thought, is given to the world.\n\nIt has been my good fortune to visit once or twice this wonderful City\nof Harmony, and ever after my mind has possessed a new and beautiful\npicture to hang upon the snowy walls of memory,\u2014a picture of\nharmoniously blended tints, of flowery beds, of sunny fountains, of\nmassive temples, crowded with faces from which all trace of passion hath\nforever vanished, and which bear only the impress of ineffable peace;\nwhere harmony is the life of the spirit, and melody runs like a liquid\nstream through all the sunny days.\n\n\n A MAGNIFICENT TEMPLE.\n\nImagine, if you can, a magnificent temple built of a kind of white\ntranslucent stone, which, as the sunlight falls upon it, glows and\nsparkles with the bright, prismatic hues of the rainbow; imagine this\ntemple to be so vast and spacious in its dimensions that its brilliant\ndome seems to pierce the snowy clouds, while in length it extends as far\nas the eye can reach; imagine delicate vines, wreaths and pictures\ncarved exquisitely upon the outer walls of this building, while a\nmagnificent garden, blooming in the rich luxuriance of summer, surrounds\nit on every side; and after you have imagined all this, you will have a\nfaint idea of that massive temple of Harmonial City, in which artists of\nevery grade congregate to pursue their favorite studies.\n\nThe interior of this splendid palace is hung with richest drapery, and\nadorned with rarest works of art, creations of those artist-spirits who\ndelight to give outward expression to the ideals of beauty within their\nsouls.\n\nMortal eyes have never witnessed such forms of skillful beauteous art,\nso life-like in every sense, so soul-thrilling, as are gathered here.\nMortal ears fail to catch the celestial tones of harmony, the divine\nnotes of melody, that are uttered here by spirits who appear to be all\nmusic, all harmony.\n\nThe interior of this beautiful building is divided into four spacious\ncompartments, with one vast hall over all.\n\nThe lower halls are devoted to sculpture, painting, music, and poetry.\nEach one is fitted up grandly, hung with shimmering drapery, and adorned\nwith forms of peerless beauty. Here the student lingers, his soul\nentranced with the glory of his work, his being illuminated with the\ndivine inspiration he gathers.\n\nThe whole edifice, with its splendid appointments, is like a divine\npoem, a completed strain of harmony, a perfect picture, or a finished\nstatue of grace and symmetry; and the forms and faces of the masters who\ndispense instruction to the student give glory and benignity to the\nwhole.\n\nThe vast hall above is the most beautiful place I have ever seen\u2014paved\nwith white and gold, the walls hung with exquisite paintings, adorned\nwith gleaming statuary, save here and there where openings admit the\nbalmy, perfumed air; the ceiling of white and azure, gemmed with golden\nstars; the shining fountains on the floor, which send up sprays of\ncrystal water, the baskets of richly-blooming flowers, swinging here and\nthere; the grand stands of shining gold, where the favored children of\ngenius gather; the silken couches and dais for the visiting company\u2014all\npresent a scene of richness and beauty difficult to be described.\n\nIn this place grand entertainments are given, to which the denizens of\nthe city and elsewhere are admitted, to feast the intellect upon the\nwondrous creations of artist, poet, sculptor, and musician, and to\nlisten to instructive lectures upon the arts. And it is indeed a feast\nto the soul to attend one of these receptions; it is an experience which\ndraws the spirit upward, and elevates it into a purer, more refined\ncondition; for purity and goodness are the themes of the artist\u2019s\ninspiration, and love broods over all, manifested in the desire to\ninstruct and bless every life. This is one of the largest temples I have\never seen, although many smaller ones, erected for like purposes, are\nscattered throughout the higher spheres of spirit life.\n\n\n CITY OF JOY.\n\nThere is a beautiful little city in the Summer-Land, which, situated\nbetween rising hills of ever-glowing verdure, presents an appearance of\nrestful tranquillity and harmonious peace. Its name signifies \u201cCity of\nJoy.\u201d\n\nThe habitations of this place are all of a circular shape, pavilion-like\nin appearance, typical of the rounded out completeness of human life.\nThese buildings are open at the sides, the roofs of shining brightness,\nsupported by columns of white ivory, exquisitely carved, and entwined\nwith clustering plants and flowering vines. They also are ranged in\ncircles or spheres, eight of these homesteads, with their connecting\nflower-gardens, comprising a circle. Here and there are gateways,\nleading to vast and beautiful grounds, where all that can delight the\neye and charm the ear may be found. These gateways are reared of solid\nalabaster-like stone, in the form of an arch.\n\nEverywhere we observe the circle and arch, nowhere do we find sharp\ncorners, or the angular edge; all is smooth, completed, harmonious. The\nflower-beds are in rings, blooming with soft, exquisite tints, and\nredolent with delicate odors.\n\nThe inhabitants of this city dwell in unity, co-operate together in\nassociative bodies, each one working for the good of all. Their sphere\nrepresents brotherly love and honest fidelity; their aura is clear,\nshining and transparent.\n\nI understand that these beings rarely, if ever, return to earthly\nscenes. They have long since passed beyond the conditions of material\nthings; they are without passions, but delight to minister to suffering\nsouls; they understand the art of preparing their beautiful garments\nfrom elements gathered from the gardens, and their food likewise grows\nspontaneously in the shape of rich, juicy, and nutritious fruit.\n\nThe habits of life of these beings are extremely simple; they have no\nartificial wants and desires; their clothing is of the flowing, drapery\nstyle; their homes are simply furnished with furniture framed from tree\nand shrub, and adorned with vines and flowers.\n\nThey are a studious people, interested in all that affects humanity, and\nhave groves and temples dedicated to Truth, Wisdom, and Knowledge; also\ntemples, large rotundas, where the sage and the philosopher, the chemist\nand the scientist, hold forth in words of wisdom.\n\nThis place I have seen but once, and then imperfectly. Thither I was\nguided by a venerable ministering being, who delights to instruct the\nyoung and ignorant. But one peculiarity I observed; instead of the\nbrilliant light of golden sunshine pouring down upon the scene, the\nwhole city seemed partially veiled in a peculiar, rose-tinted haze,\nwhich threw a delicious sense of beauty over the white homesteads, the\ngleaming waters of the circular fountains, and the blooming gardens.\n\nThe inhabitants of this supernal city traverse space mostly by the\nintensity of will-force, but I am told they also possess conveyances for\n\u00e6rial travel, circular-shaped, silken-draped air cars, which glide\nthrough the atmosphere like graceful birds of golden plumage. These I\ndid not see, but I have seen similar \u00e6rial cars in other places.\n\nOh, were it possible to convey to you an adequate comprehension of the\nwonders and beauties of another life than this, it would be a task over\nwhich an angel might rejoice.\n\n\n FLORALIA, THE VALLEY OF FLOWERS.\n\nI cannot begin to enumerate to you the beautiful cities of spirit life,\nand the sweet, outlying country places; neither can I hope to convey to\nyou a description of the peaceful, glowing valleys and woodlands of the\nBetter Country. But there are two beautiful valleys of which I feel to\nspeak, and which may give you a conception of the many fertile spots,\nrich with luxuriant growth, that adorn the Land of Souls.\n\nFloralia, or the Valley of Flowers, is charmingly situated between two\nranges of massive mountains, which glow in the sun with more than\nroseate brightness, or deepen into purple as the cooling shadows ascend\ntheir gleaming sides.\n\nLong and wide the valley stretches out, sweet and fair, dotted here and\nthere with groves and clumps of trees; a clear and limpid stream of\nwater, reflecting the azure sky, runs through the midst of the valley,\nwhich is fed by living springs from the mountain. Clusters of snow-white\ncottages abound, whose inhabitants are composed of little innocent\nchildren, with their guardians, teachers, or spirit parents; for little\nones coming to our life, who have no father and mother to greet them,\nare at once adopted by kind spirits, who devote their lives to their\ncare and guidance.\n\nBut the most remarkable feature of this valley, and the one from which\nit derives its name, Floralia, is the lavish profusion of flowers on\nevery hand. The green sward, so like velvet in softness, is literally\ncovered with flowers\u2014flowers of every type, degree, and color\u2014the whole\nforming a magnificent scene of beauty and fragrance; so exquisitely do\nthe colors blend and their odors harmonize. This you will believe is the\nhome of honey-loving insects and singing birds, and the whole presents a\nperfect picture of delight.\n\nTo this flowery home, little children are brought, who pass out from\nearth in childhood\u2019s hours; here they are borne by loving, ministering\nangels, and tenderly reared and cherished. Many of these little ones\nknew not the meaning of care and tenderness on earth, but all are\nlovingly tended at this place.\n\nHere they attend the school of Nature, learn of flower and bird and\nrippling rill; and are instructed in the lessons of life, and the laws\nof being, by their gentle guardians. Only purity and peace abound here,\nand the little ones develop all their sweetest attributes of soul.\n\n\n THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT.\n\nThe other vale of which I have spoken is called the Valley of Delight.\nThis valley is somewhat depressed and nearly round; nestling between\ngigantic hills, it resembles a great green basin set with flowers of\nmany hues. No scorching wind, no battling storm ever sweeps across this\nvalley; all is mild and balmy. The crystal water flashes from many\nfountains and gurgles from leaping springs.\n\nIn this sweet spot more than one poet abides, more than one artist makes\nhis home; but the great attraction of the place is a massive, white,\nacademic-looking structure, in the center of the valley. This building\nis indeed a college of learning; within its lofty walls lessons are\ngiven and learned, not only in the usual arts and sciences, but, best of\nall, in the art of teaching, and of becoming competent to guide,\ninstruct, and develop all the best powers of the little children. From\nthis college in the Valley of Delight, spirits, men and women, youths\nand maidens, go forth to Floralia, to become teachers and guides for the\nlittle children who gather there.\n\nIn this college school, even elderly men and women are entered as\npupils; those who, having experienced earthly life without the\nadvantages of education, or have passed through mortality confined to\none department of learning. In our world every spirit receives the\nopportunity for acquiring an education, and all, at some time, avail\nthemselves of it. There are many such schools of learning in the\nspiritual world, and they are of untold benefit to the inquiring soul.\n\nIt would be useless for me to attempt to describe even a tenth part of\nthe places I have visited, and scenes I have witnessed in the spiritual.\nMortal language fails to convey a proper idea of certain phases of\nspirit life, even when the brain of our instrument can receive correctly\nthe thoughts we impress upon it. To realize positively the beauties as\nwell as the deformities,\u2014if I may be allowed to use the word in relation\nto the lower spheres of spirit life,\u2014one must be able to perceive them\nwith spirit vision. Hence I have only attempted to convey to you a faint\nthough real idea, so far as it extends, of what I have witnessed in\nother lands than those of earth.\n\n\n THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUND OF THE INDIANS.\n\nBefore I close this chapter I must speak to you of that fair, peaceful,\nmountainous country of the spirit world, where the Indian race find a\nhappy home. To reach this region from the cities of which I have spoken,\none must go far out into the open country; through valleys and over\nhills; through deep forests and sunny glades, up, ever upward in his\nmarch, until at length he comes to an open stretch of green fields,\nwhere the mellow sunlight gleams and tiny flowers blossom. Beyond this\nlevel plain of verdure, a deep, blue, rolling river sweeps, its shining\nwaves dancing in the sunlight under the quaint, canoe-like boats that\nrest upon them. Kanalaw, Smiling River, I have heard these waters\ncalled; and it seems indeed a fitting name, for only peace and joy is\nsuggested at the sight of its shining waves. Beyond this rolling river\nthere is a deeply-wooded country. Here you are up high among the\nmountains; this is the red man\u2019s home, his happy hunting ground, where\nno foe disturbs him, where no storms can come.\n\nThe white race is welcome here as visitors, and a number live here as\nteachers to their dusky friends; but this is exclusively an Indian\ncountry. Throughout the deep forests, where cooling streamlets flow, and\nbirds make merry music in the branches of the stately trees, the\npicturesque wigwams of the Indians stand, white and shining, embroidered\nwith quills, feathers, and silks of every hue, hung with many-colored\nhangings or curtains of silken texture, and ornamented with natural\nflowers, which give out sweet incense to the breezes. The young people\nof the race delight to weave flowery garlands with which to deck their\nhomes.\n\nOut in the sunny glades of this region, where flowers of every kind bud\nand blossom, where the brooks murmur over mossy stones, and all life is\nglad, the great lodges of the country stand,\u2014their school-houses and\ntheir council-halls,\u2014and there they meet to give or gain instruction and\nto receive counsel from the wise chiefs whom they honor and love.\n\nTribes here mingle together and dwell in unity; no hate, no anger, no\nfears disturb their minds; they grow in harmony, and gain that strength\nof mind which they send back to aid and assist the pale-faces through\ntheir chosen mediums. Here the Indian finds rest and peace, gaining\nfreedom, vigor, and strength from the waters, woods, and hills; growing\ngentle like the flowers, and mild as the evening breeze. His soul grows\nand expands in the power of love, and he gains knowledge not only from\nsurrounding scenes, but through his intuitive faculties, which are\nreceptive to truths, and likewise from learned and cultured beings from\nthe higher spheres, who delight to teach the red man, and whom he in\nturn listens to with reverence and love.\n\nThis beautiful country, fairer than mortal eye hath ever witnessed, has\nproved a blessing to many a weary spirit. Not only is it a refuge for\nthe poor, hunted and despised Indian, who, fleeing from mortal chains,\nfinds therein rest and peace, but it is also a haven of rest to many a\npoor, weary pale face, who, passing out from mortal life, uncared for\nand alone, is taken up by tender spirits into this blooming country, and\namid its pure air and green hills, cared for by the tender Indian maid,\nhe gains strength and ease of mind and body. Here, too, many little\nchildren gain strength and power to return to earth as messengers of\nlight to weary hearts.\n\nAnd there are lyceums in the Indian country,\u2014lyceums, where lessons are\nlearned from the singing brook, the mossy stone, the budding flower, and\nthe warbling bird; where the grand march is made beneath archways of\nliving green, and many-colored banners are formed of blooming flowers;\nwhere life is natural, and where souls are happy and free.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n SCENES AND INCIDENTS IN THE SPIRIT LAND.\n\n\nAs you gather around your cheerful firesides as mortals, and rejoice in\nthe sweet associations and affections of the family circle, do you not\nsometimes think of those homes not made with hands, which the great army\nof your so-called dead inhabit? and do you not long to know something of\nthem and their manner of existence?\n\nI have recently visited one of these homes in the spirit world, of which\nI will endeavor to tell you. Imagine a large, white building, surrounded\nby pleasant grounds, and shaded by lofty trees (similar to your trees of\nmaple and oak), in form, construction, and surroundings much like a\nsubstantial, comfortable country-seat of some well-to-do merchant in\nearth life. This home of which I speak is situated in \u201cPleasant Valley.\u201d\nNo wintry storms, no sudden waves of cold, no visitations of extreme\nheat, ever come to this place! The temperature of the valley is mild and\ndelightful. There are many such homes as this of which I speak in\nPleasant Valley, but they are not all inhabited by the same class of\npeople.\n\n\n TRIAL AND TRIUMPH.\n\nIn this comfortable home dwell two beings, male and female, companions\nin every sense of the term, whose delight it is to minister to the wants\nof others. I know not all the roads of suffering they passed, but I do\nknow that on earth, many years ago, this woman loved and trusted in this\nman, and through the force of circumstances and conditions (perhaps\nbecause of a vacillating, fickle nature), he abandoned her to the\nmerciless scorn of an unpitying world. Left alone, friendless and\nunaided, to fight the battles of life, what wonder that she was plunged\nin despair! Her babe lived scarcely three months on earth, ere it passed\nto the spirit world.\n\nCrazed at this culmination of all her woes, the poor mother ended her\nmortal existence by suicide. For a time she led an aimless, restless\nexistence in spirit, owing to the law of association drawing her back to\nformer scenes; but soon, through the aid of ministering spirits, she was\naroused to her true condition and prevailed upon to reach outward for a\nhigher life.\n\nHer mother-heart yearned and prayed for the tiny babe she had lost,\nwhen, lo, it was brought to her arms by tender mother-spirits, who had\ntended and cared for it with loving kindness. Mother and child were\ntaken to a bright home, where flowers bloomed and branches waved, where\nall was beautiful, and there was nought of selfishness or woe to mar the\nserenity of the scene. Here in Pleasant Valley, surrounded by loving\nhelpers and guides, these two beings unfolded in sweetness and purity,\ntheir lives growing into harmony with all mankind.\n\nBut the mother, whom I will call Mary, could not forget her early love;\nthe object of her fondest affections was still dear to her soul, and in\nspite of unkindness, desertion, and neglect, her woman\u2019s heart went out\nto him in a devotion born of undying love. At times, she could feel\nsomething like a chord vibrating within her, as if with pain, and she\nwould feel that the spirit of her dear one was calling her to him.\n\nAt length she found him, still on earth, but, oh, how changed! Sorrow,\nwant, and pain were marked on every feature. Oh, what tribulation and\nsuffering had been his! Friends had died or deserted him; fortune had\nfled, and sickness marked him as her own. In hours of misery, thoughts\nof Mary had come to him; bitterly did he repent his past conduct, sadly\ndid he mourn over his wasted life.\n\nSoon he was called to the spirit world, but not at first did he find the\nangel of his dreams; though she was near, seeking to aid and assist him\nto throw off the clouds that pressed upon him, and to aid him to emerge\nfrom the terrible conditions that surged around him, it was impossible\nfor her to announce her presence.\n\nAt length, by the herculean efforts of his will, by a determination to\nlive for others instead of wholly for himself, he succeeded in throwing\noff the incubus that weighed upon his soul and confined it in the\nbondage of darkness. Then, what a glorious sight burst upon his awakened\nvision,\u2014the face of her he once knew and loved, the face of her he had\nwronged, he beheld smiling upon him tenderly and peacefully, glorified\nby angelic love and pardon, while beside it gleamed another,\u2014sweet,\ninnocent, lovely,\u2014the face of their angel child.\n\nIt is impossible for others to realize the misery and anguish of a human\nheart, to comprehend the thorny path a soul may have to tread in its\njourney of purification; therefore I cannot convey to you a knowledge of\nthe suffering and sorrow these two beings experienced,\u2014the one through\nbetrayed confidence, the other through selfishness and wrong-doing; but\nwe may well believe the anguish of the latter must ultimately have\nexceeded ten times the suffering of the former, as the wrong-doer must\nmeet with stings and scourges of conscience of which the wronged is\nnever aware.\n\n\n A HOME FOR THE WEARY.\n\nLed by Mary and her child into paths of peace, and at last pleasantness,\nthe erring spirit began to blossom out from old conditions, and to\ndevelop depths of goodness in his nature, undreamed of hitherto. At\nlength, it became their desire to open a spiritual home of peace and\ncomfort for such weary souls, who, like our friend Mary, are forced out\nof mortal existence by the relentless hand of despair and to surround\nthem with that sweet magnetism of love that serves to assuage their\nsorrows and strengthen their hearts.\n\nConsequently, this beautiful home in Pleasant Valley, surrounded by\nshaded walks, rippling streams, blooming flowers, and smiling fields, is\nsustained by them as a refuge for weary, heart-sick souls, who through\nmisery, want or neglect, have passed out from earth by their own act.\nWithin, the apartments are pleasantly situated, commanding views of the\njoyous scene without; comfort, and even luxury, abound; the furnishing\nof the house is such as to please the eye and harmonize with the senses;\nform, color, and texture all blend in perfect unison. Seclusion and\nprivacy may be had by those who will; cheerful companionship also is\nfreely offered. Surely such a house of refuge, such a home of peace,\nmust be welcome to a weary, storm-tossed soul.\n\nContent in their work for others, Mary and her companion pass their\ntime, constantly devising something new for the amelioration of human\nsuffering, or giving of their energy and influence to strengthen and\nencourage the morally weak and blind. As teachers, helpers and guides,\nthey are invaluable to others, and their labors follow them in the\nblessing and appreciation of all. Serenity and peace are stamped upon\ntheir features, while their forms, clad in simple robes, shine with\ndignity; hand in hand they pass through life, happy in each other and in\ntheir work.\n\nWhat shall we say of their child,\u2014innocent, star-eyed Stella,\u2014she who\nreturns to earthly scenes daily, as a missionary of light and peace to\nweary mortals, who brings an influence of benevolence to the hearts of\nthe affluent, that they may bestow their bounty upon those in need; who\nsoothes the weary and sad, and carries a blessing wherever she goes? She\nis a missionary of light, performing a noble work in guiding\nsorrow-stricken hearts to a haven of rest. The angels bless her, as\nmortals would do, were they aware of her presence in their midst, at\ntimes, when a deep influx of strength and consolation flows out from her\nlife to theirs, and they know not whence it comes.\n\nA few words more: Those happy, calm, and quiet beings, who at present\ninhabit the home in Pleasant Valley,\u2014the \u201cMary Home,\u201d as we love to call\nit,\u2014would never be recognized as the sorrowful, hollow-eyed, unhappy\ncreatures who not long since dragged their weary frames through the\nstreets of earth. Now, peace and content are theirs; affection and\nsympathy feed their lives, and their hearts are no longer starved for\nthe sustenance they crave.\n\nBut these beings will not always remain here. One by one, as they become\nstrengthened and refreshed, as they become imbued with a desire to help\nothers, they pass out to other scenes, to new labors, and new\nassociations, where, as missionaries, they will continue to work for\nothers, leaving sweet memories to cluster around the old home, and\nbright influences which bless and strengthen the weary ones who are\nbrought to fill their places.\n\nSuch is the work accomplished in the Mary Home; such the life spent by\nthose who, through much tribulation and sorrow, have found the dawn of a\nnew existence. We do not scorn a spirit for what it has been; we honor\nit for its efforts to advance and grow into something better; for in\nthis way happiness, peace, and blessing come to humanity.\n\n\n THE CONDITION OF ONE SELFISH ON EARTH.\n\nPassing through the various places and conditions of the spirit world,\non missionary or beneficent purposes intent, one comes in contact with\nstrange and startling scenes and people, presenting a weird and uncouth\nappearance, as well as with those bearing the impress of suffering and\nwoe.\n\nI well remember one being with whom I was brought into association by a\nbeautiful spirit, whose delight it is ever to work out some benefit to\nothers. This being, to whose side I was brought, was a female, tall,\ngaunt, unhappy; her garments seemed to be formed of a heterogeneous mass\nof fabric, of every color and texture, presenting at once a grotesque\nand unnatural appearance.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d she said, as I gazed upon her, \u201csee my fine robes, how beautiful,\nhow rich; I hid my jewels, that none should find them; I cut up my\nhandsome dresses, that none could wear them when I was dead; I hid my\ngold, that none should spend it in riotous living; and see, I have them\nall here again, in these beautiful robes of mine.\u201d\n\nIt was plainly to be seen that this unfortunate creature believed what\nshe said; presenting a pitiable appearance to others, to herself she\nappeared to be the perfect ideal of dignity and beauty. I soon learned\nthe secret of her deplorable condition. On earth this woman had been\ncursed with great wealth. I say \u201ccursed,\u201d for to her spirit it had\nindeed proved a curse, narrowing her intellect in the eager pursuit of\nmore wealth, and warping her spiritual faculties to a truly lamentable\nextent. While not denying herself the luxuries of life, she yet refused\nto spend one penny for the comfort of others; indeed, so selfish and\ngreedy had she grown, that she could not bear to see others enjoying one\ngrain of the wealth and luxury which she possessed, and she determined\nthat since she must \u201cdie,\u201d\u2014she did not believe in a future life, nor in\nthe existence of a higher power than man,\u2014since she must leave all she\npossessed, no one else should enjoy it; and so she had destroyed her\nriches and garments, and hidden much of her jewelry and gold, so that\nafter she was dead, her relatives would fail to benefit by them.\n\nThis woman had lived alone on earth, a solitary, haughty, mercenary\nbeing; and in this spirit of unrest she had passed out into the Eternal\nWorld, only to find herself stripped of all wealth, grandeur, and\nhonor,\u2014a poor, wretched creature.\n\nBut as yet she had not aroused to this fact; she felt herself a\ndethroned queen; she did not realize the utter poverty and squalor of\nher surroundings; her only desire seemed to be to keep the gold and\njewels hidden from the light of day.\n\nI was much interested in this spirit. I sought to awaken some sense of\njustice, honor, and benevolence within her soul, but without avail. To\nall my entreaties, arguments, and persuasions, she would turn a deaf\near. Her mind seemed to gloat only upon the disappointments of those on\nearth, who sought for her hidden treasure, and her time was spent in\nmocking their futile search, bewailing her own inability to profit by\nher wealth, or parading herself to and fro before the eyes of any\npasser-by.\n\nThe surroundings of this miserable woman seemed to be as sterile and\ngloomy of aspect as her own soul,\u2014cold, cheerless, and deserted. No\nblooming flower, no shrub of luxuriant green adorned the scene; barren\nrocks and stony ground alone met the sight; not even the maligned\nthistle or thorn-bush were here to enliven the scene; and yet this being\nin her haughtiness of spirit, perceived not the gloom and darkness and\ndearth.\n\nThis woman,\u2014seemingly in all but outward appearance anything but a\nwoman,\u2014so haughty, selfish, even vindictive\u2014what could she produce\nsweeter than thorn or thistle?\n\nSpirit parents and friends of this unfortunate being gathered around,\nwho would fain have assisted her out of her miserable condition; but she\nknew them not, and waved them away from her side.\n\n\n FIRST STEPS TOWARD ENLIGHTENMENT.\n\nBut this state of things could not continue long; as the constant\ndropping of water will wear away a stone, so the continued influence of\nearnest spirits descending upon another will produce its result, and so\nthe influence of these good, beneficent ones began slowly yet surely to\nproduce a softening effect upon this woman\u2019s heart. She grew unhappy,\nrestless; the gold and jewels of her former days haunted her; she longed\nto see them once again. In one of these moods she found herself in the\nbodily presence of a kinsman,\u2014one poor, but worthy,\u2014whom she had\ndespised as shiftless, because while burdened with an invalid wife, and\na family of little ones, he could do nothing more than keep himself and\nfamily above want and debt.\n\nThinking deeply of the hiding-place of her treasure, and longing to\nbehold it once again, she did not know that the intensity of her desire,\nand the impression on her soul concerning the place of concealment,\ncommunicated itself to the mind, or spirit, of her relative. He was in a\npartial slumber, it was early morning; just the time and condition\nfavorable for producing spirit impression. Starting from his sleep, he\nexclaimed to his suffering wife: \u201cI believe I have dreamed out the\nhiding-place of aunt Sarah\u2019s money; I believe I can find it; at least, I\nshall search for it.\u201d\n\nHis companion tried to soothe him into quiet, but all in vain; he could\nnot rest, and shortly left the house, followed by the now anxious and\nthoroughly alarmed spirit.\n\nI need not enter into details; before nightfall the treasure was\nfound,\u2014bank-notes, gold and jewels,\u2014together with a note in the\nhandwriting of the deceased woman, stating that the money should be\nowned by whoever found it, but the jewels must be returned to the heirs\nof the family. The only heir to the property was a young lady, a\ngoverness in a distant city. Gladly did the fortunate finder communicate\nwith her, and as the jewels were worth fully as much as the money, she\nwas glad to take them, and leave the residue with her relative.\n\nThus were honest hearts made happy, and needy ones provided for. He who\nfound the treasure had been sorely tried; his wife\u2019s health had become\nmore precarious than ever, and his family were in need of even the\nnecessities of life; for he had been thrown out of employment, and there\nwas no prospect or hope of better days before him.\n\nYou may judge of the rejoicing in the poor man\u2019s cottage that night; the\nchildren were elated, but the invalid\u2019s tears flowed freely, as in\nbroken accents she thanked the Father of us all for his tender mercy.\n\n\n ENFRANCHISEMENT OF A SPIRIT.\n\nIt was this scene that softened the heart of that unhappy spirit, and\nactually brought tears to her eyes. She had rejoiced at the sight of her\ntreasures again, then grown alarmed as she realized they had forever\npassed away from her; but when she witnessed the tears, and listened to\nthe thanksgiving of the invalid woman, her own heart melted, and she\nwept in sympathy.\n\nAnd so one little wayside blossom dared to lift its head above the arid\nsoil, and to shed its fragrance over a bitter life,\u2014the flower of\nSympathy, which is so near akin to Love, that the angels consider them\ntwin lilies blooming from one stem.\n\nAt this blessed moment, those earnest spirits who had longed for this\nsurrounded the woman, dissipating the shadows with their brilliant\npresence, and revealing her to herself as she was. Horror, shame,\nanguish filled her spirit for a time; remorse for the good she had left\nundone pierced her through and through; but possessing strength,\nendurance, and energy, and assisted by her friends, she at length\nrallied and emerged from her old condition into a brighter one; her old\ngarments dropped away, and womanly robes of simple fashion clothed her\nform, which soon rounded out in beauty of expression and symmetrical\nproportions. She is still growing, seeking to learn more of her new\nlife, and to benefit others; and it is her delight to impress the\nreceivers of her former fortune to expend a part of it for the benefit\nof others.\n\nThus have the wayside flowers of sympathy, love, benevolence, humility,\nand peace blossomed out from the defilement of selfishness and pride.\n\n\n CHILDREN\u2019S PROGRESSIVE LYCEUMS.\n\nIn this chapter, which I have devoted to the recital of scenes and\nincidents that occur in the spirit land, I must mention something\nconcerning the Children\u2019s Progressive Lyceums of that world, which are\nin session at this hour. I will give a description of that school which\ndaily convenes in the massive temple at Spring Garden City, dedicated to\nTruth and Education. In this, as in all of our spirit lyceums, spiritual\nprinciples and aspirations are inculcated, and a knowledge of the laws\nof life instilled into the young minds who throng its spacious halls.\n\nIn that delightful temple, adorned with the artistic expressions of\ngrace and beauty, where snowy statuary gleam out from nook and corner,\ndisplaying the sculptor\u2019s skill, marvelous creations of ideality,\nrepresenting all the grace and loveliness of human conception; where\nbeautiful paintings adorn the crystal walls: scenes of natural beauty,\nglowing landscapes, gleaming water pictures, representations of calm and\npeaceful life, which the artist-soul has caused to speak a lesson from\ninert canvas; where the ceiling is carved in delicate forms of beauty,\nand the open walls invite the perfume of the flower and the balm of the\npassing breeze; where in truth all the surroundings are calculated to\nawaken only thoughts of the good, to develop a love of the beautiful in\nthe growing mind, and to cause sensation to glow and blossom under the\nlight of Purity;\u2014groups of spirit children meet to learn the lessons of\nlife, develop all the highest, noblest attributes of mind, and to\ncultivate the strongest, purest health for the outward form.\n\nThere spirit teachers gather, to give instruction to these young souls;\nto draw forth the inner powers of the undeveloped minds under their\ncharge, and to inculcate on them the principles of true spirituality,\nwhich are love, purity, fidelity to truth, and a sense of justice.\n\nAnd these groups of innocent children, from the prattling babe to the\nlaughing youth or maiden, present a picture at once sublime and\ninviting. Whether chanting in chorus their beautiful spiritual hymns,\nwhich awaken devotion, or delivering in concert their golden-chain\nrecitations, which tell of the wisdom and boundless love of our Father;\nwhether relating some simple story of actual experience, or transmitting\nthe grand and soul-inspiring utterances of others; whether exercising\nthe limbs in wing movements, or performing the graceful and\nstrengthening evolutions of the grand triumphal march; in each and all\nof these they present a picture of youthful beauty and innocence, of\ndeveloping power and purpose, which strikes the beholder with the\nconviction that these groups of spirits are yet to wield a mighty power.\nBy-and-bye those young souls will depart to take their places as\nteachers, guides, and helpers to the needy and lowly of earth, or to the\nignorant, darkened minds who enter spirit life covered with the pall of\nsuperstition and fear; and to such beings they will prove a light that\nwill brighten the highway to knowledge.\n\n\n METHODS OF INSTRUCTION IN SPIRIT LYCEUMS.\n\nThese spirit lyceums are schools of education where thought is developed\nand love awakened; where beautiful sights and sounds arouse the young\nspirit into activity, and draw it into a condition of perfect harmony.\nThe lessons are all instructive while entertaining, and are drawn from\nsome natural object of bird or blossom, or taken from some beautiful\npainting, or group of statuary, which represents the idea to be conveyed\nto the mind grasping for knowledge.\n\nEach child whose musical taste is developing, receives instruction in\nthe laws of harmony and melodious sound; each child who loves art in its\nexpressive form of painting or sculpture receives lessons from\nmaster-minds who delight to guide the awakening talent in its proper\ndirection. All work in concord and all delight to please each other.\n\nThe rose and the acorn, the sparrow and the bee, the tinkling brook and\nthe mossy stone, all speak a lesson of active, changing life to the\nchild. The stars and the sunbeams breathe a lesson of divine goodness to\nhim; and the spirit of all things is felt as he communes with Nature.\nAnd thus these children are prepared to go forth from their spirit\nlyceums breathing holy inspirations upon the lives of others, gently\ndrawing them upward towards the life that knoweth all, the _Love_ that\nenfoldeth everyone.\n\nOh, ye fathers and mothers, who weep in sorrow today because some\ndarling has been taken from your earthly homes; did you realize how\ntenderly your loved one is cared for, into what a beautiful school your\nchild has entered, to prepare him or her to become a glorious messenger\nof life and light and peace to the weary and the sad, you would not\nmourn, but rather rejoice that you have been permitted to offer up to\nthe service of the Lord such a beautiful and pure missionary of love.\n\nThese spiritual lyceums, unlike your earthly gatherings of like import,\nconvene daily; and the children and leaders, in constant association\nwith each other, grow so in harmony together in sympathy and love, that\nthey become a perfect whole, each one fitting naturally and beautifully\ninto his or her place; and hence are enabled to perform an unequalled\namount of good for humanity; and I have found that to these bands of\nholy angels, together with the efforts of the red race,\u2014our Indian\nbrothers,\u2014belongs the credit of swinging back the pearly gates of\nimmortal life, and setting them forever ajar, for the benefit of those\nwho linger yet in mortal clay.\n\n\n A GOLDEN-CHAIN RECITATION.\n\nI would like to give you a specimen of the golden-chain recitations I\nlistened to at the lyceum of Spring Garden City. The Guardian of the\nschool recited the first line; the teachers of the various groups or\nclasses followed on, in concert, with the second line; then the children\nof the first group recited the third line; the scholars of the second\ngroup the fourth line; and so on, until all had taken part in the\nexercise and become impressed with its beauty and devotional tendency;\nwhen all joined in the recitation of the last four lines.\n\n Spirit of Life and Love!\n To thee our souls we bring,\n And lay them on Thy Fount of Truth,\n Our purest offering.\n Spirit of endless Peace!\n Who worketh all things well,\n To Thee our soul\u2019s divinest praise\n In songs of gladness swell.\n\n God of the wise and good!\n Who rules by perfect law,\n Thy vast creations show thy power\n Without a single flaw.\n The storms and tempests sweep\n Impurities away,\n And after darkness brightly shines\n The golden light of day.\n\n The green fruit and the sour\n Are but unripened good,\n And every crude, imperfect life,\n When rightly understood,\n Will teach the human soul\n Progression\u2019s deathless power\n To beautify the living form\n With perfect fruit and flower.\n\n Father! we bring to Thee\n All that our souls contain\n Of love and reverence and joy,\n Without one touch of pain;\n And, oh, we ask of Thee\n Thy blessing evermore,\n That we may walk still close to Thee\u2014\n Thou whom our souls adore.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n HOW SPIRITS WORK.\n\n\nThe work of the spirit is true labor; it may not be labor of the hands,\nbut it is of the heart; it is the impelling of spiritual force outward\nfrom within, directing that force in certain channels, or against\nspecial obstacles, in order to accomplish a purpose. Spirit work is\nalways for the attainment of some definite end or object, never for the\nwhiling away of an idle hour, or the performance of some task that is to\ndelight for a brief, fleeting moment.\n\nLet me give you an illustration of how spirits work; but this instance\nis by no means an example of all the methods that spirits take to\naccomplish their labors. Oh, no; these methods are varied, even as\nindividuals vary in their natures and constitutions.\n\n\n A SPIRIT MOTHER REFORMS HER WAYWARD SON.\n\nIn a certain city of this fair land dwells an individual who is at our\npresent writing universally respected and beloved by all who know him;\nbut such was not always the case. Twenty years ago this individual was a\nyoung man given to dissipation in its various forms; his mother, then in\nthe body, wept and besought him in vain to abandon his evil course, and\nturn to a better life. Finally, the mother entered spirit life, and for\na time that young man plunged into the wildest of dissipations. In the\nmeantime, the mother, awakened in the spirit world, found that she could\nreturn to the side of her son, and to a certain extent exert an\ninfluence upon him. She began to follow him wherever he went, steadily\nbending her will-power upon his mind. Into places of low and evil resort\nwent that spirit mother with her erring son; scenes that made her soul\ngrow sick within her met her pure vision. Yet she faltered not; her work\nlay before her, and accomplish it she would, whatsoever obstacles might\ninterpose.\n\nIt would make an interesting volume to describe the experiences and\nincidents that befell the spirit. For a time the case seemed hopeless,\nbut still the spirit despaired not. Occasionally thoughts of his\nmother\u2019s teachings, and remembrances of her devotion and love for him,\nwould flit across the mind of the dissolute youth, and for the moment\nhis heart would seem to melt; but the force of habit and association had\nsuch a hold upon him that these brief moments of remorse would pass away\nand seem to leave no trace. But all such experiences do leave their\nimpress upon the spirit for good, and in this instance they afforded\nmeans of encouragement and power to the angel mother, whose mission was\nto accomplish the reformation of the immortal soul of a well-loved son.\n\nThree, five, eight years passed; the youth, now grown to manhood\u2019s\nestate, but in all appearance a perfect wreck of humanity, drifted away\nfrom the home of his boyhood among strangers, homeless and alone. Of\ncourse he fell among evil associates, but still memories of long ago,\nand occasionally remorseful thoughts of his own impure life, continued\nto haunt him.\n\nStill the spirit mother exerted her influence upon him, and it finally\nbecame manifest in a singular manner. Groping through the city streets\none dark night, he stumbled and fell, striking his head upon the\npavement, which caused him to lose consciousness for a few moments; when\nhe beheld the face of that mother gazing upon him with sorrowful eyes.\n\nHe started up, confused and alarmed; but the ringing pain in his head\nrefused to leave, and he seated himself upon the curb-stone, holding his\nbowed head in his hands.\n\nAll at once a scene opened before him: he saw his boyhood\u2019s home, and\nhis mother standing in the door to meet him as he came from school; he\nheard her gentle, earnest words: \u201cMy son, whatever you do in life, seek\nto keep a pure heart and a clean hand.\u201d\n\nThat was all. Then a calmness fell upon his spirit, as though the peace\nof heaven had descended there. He felt an angel\u2019s touch upon his aching\nhead, and tears of anguish fell from his tired eyes. In this condition\nhe was found and taken to a hospital, where his wounds were dressed, and\nhe was cared for until he recovered from the blow he had received. In\nthe meantime the spirit mother, who had followed her son, succeeded in\ninfluencing one of the physicians in charge of the hospital, in her\nson\u2019s favor; so much so, that he offered to obtain manual employment for\nhim if he would work, which offer was accepted.\n\nI cannot go into details; suffice it to say that the hitherto wretched\nman seemed to have changed his nature completely; and why? Because the\nmother\u2019s influence had gained the ascendency over him. He worked early\nand late, at first at rough toil, afterward at more congenial labor.\nTime passed; he became respectable and manly in appearance; he shunned\nthe haunts of evil and followed the good. Finally, he succeeded in\ngaining a competence; until now he is beloved and honored by all. And\nwhat do you think his present work is? He is the superintendent and\nguide of a mission for the suppression of crime and the development of\ngood in the street urchins and unfortunate youth of the city.\n\nFor ten weary years a spirit mother watched and toiled, but at length\nshe was rewarded, for her son was saved, not only to bless himself and\nher, but also to bless and strengthen many others.\n\nThus one mother toiled and watched and hoped, for many years, for the\nreformation and uplifting of a child. This is one way in which spirits\nwork, but not the only one which they have of accomplishing their\npurpose.\n\nLet me relate an instance of spirit work of another kind, and in a\ndifferent direction from that spoken of above, which will reveal to you\nhow possible it is for your ascended friends to assist you in material\nways even though you know it not:\n\n\n A SPIRIT MOTHER RELIEVES AN IMPOVERISHED DAUGHTER.\n\nA widow, who resided in a neat little cottage with her only child, a\nyoung girl of sixteen years, maintained herself and daughter by the\npreparation of certain kinds of fancy work, in the making of which she\nwas highly skilled, and which, being in great demand, yielded her an\nincome sufficient to provide a comfortable living for both.\n\nThis woman was a good, careful, tender mother, and her daughter was\nreared to respect herself, her fellows, and her God. But she made one\nmistake; loving her child as she did, she argued that she could not put\nher to hard or tedious labor, and, therefore, she left her to her own\npleasure, in place of teaching her some good and profitable employment.\n\nWhen the girl was between the years of sixteen and seventeen, the mother\nsuddenly sickened and died, leaving her child without the means of\nsupport. For a few weeks after this calamity, the orphan existed as best\nshe could. Being obliged to give up the pretty cottage home, she\ndisposed of a portion of its furniture, and taking an upper room in a\nlodging-house, furnished it with the remainder in a comfortable manner.\nAs long as the money realized from the sale of her mother\u2019s effects\nlasted, our young friend managed very nicely, in spite of the terrible\ngloom and loneliness that had settled over her spirit; but in a little\ntime this was exhausted, and want stared her in the face.\n\nIn the meantime, the spirit mother, becoming painfully alive to the\ncondition of her mourning child, sorrowed that she had not given her the\nmeans of earning a livelihood, and grew restlessly anxious to care for\nand assist that lonely one. She could not remain in the spirit world\nwith her dear companions, but constantly returned to her child, who\nlived alone and friendless on the earth, seeking ever to influence and\nguide her aright.\n\nFinally, as pressing want necessitated the immediate trial of some work,\nthe young girl\u2014in a state bordering upon desperation\u2014decided to attempt\nto perform a piece of the work which her mother had been wont to do so\nskillfully and well, whose busy fingers she had watched so many times.\nMaterials being at hand, she collected them together and began her\nunaccustomed task.\n\nNever before had she attempted anything of the kind, and at first she\nwas excited and nervous; but as the fingers flew over the delicate,\nfairy-like work, she grew more composed and hopeful, until, when her\ntask was finished, she held it up to the light in an ecstasy of\nadmiration, exclaiming in triumph: \u201cWhy, it looks almost as good as\nmother\u2019s used to.\u201d\n\nAgain and again did she attempt a piece, and each time her success grew\nmore sure and certain, until, when the curtains of evening fell, quite a\nlittle pile of delicately finished work lay before her shining though\nweary eyes.\n\nOn the following morning, our friend, after consuming a hasty meal of\ncrackers and water, carried the work she had finished to one of the\nformer patrons of her mother, who examined, bought, and paid for it,\nfurnishing materials for more of the same kind.\n\nThe girl hastened home to resume her work, and again transpired that\nstrange scene of an inexperienced, unskilled child performing work which\nrequired dexterity and practice, without making a single mistake; and so\non, from day to day, week to week, until she was no longer\ninexperienced, but had become skilled in her task, and was enabled to\ntake advantage of it, and thus gain more time for recreation for\nherself.\n\nWhat was the solution of this\u2014to the girl\u2014seeming mystery? Why, merely\nthat the spirit mother, drawn to her child day by day through the\nintensity of her love and anxiety, impressed that child to attempt the\nwork, and guided her in the performance of it, not by unconsciously\nentrancing her and doing the labor\u2014in which case she would not be\nteaching the daughter\u2014but by impressing her how to proceed, guiding her\nfingers, and directing the work, until at length the daughter needed no\nteacher, for she had become an adept in the art of labor.\n\nAnd yet another good than the power of earning her own living was\nreceived by the maiden; in close communion with her spirit mother,\nthough she knew it not, she began to lose the sensation of loneliness\nand gloom, and gradually grew peaceful and calmly happy. Thus was a\ndouble good wrought by that spirit mother, whose anxiety for her child\u2019s\nhappiness first led her to make the mistake of rearing her in ignorance\nof manual labor, and afterward caused her to project her influence from\nthe spirit sphere upon that child, thus becoming a teacher, in order to\nrectify the mistakes of the past.\n\nTo those interested in this narrative I will say the young girl soon\nmade friends and companions, and she is now living a loving, happy,\nuseful wife and mother.\n\nEvery spirit who cares more for others than for self\u2014and all spirits\nwill do so in time\u2014has a work of some kind to perform, a work of\nuplifting, benefiting, and blessing one or more individuals\u2014spirits or\nmortals; and he or she will pause not in despair in this labor of love\nuntil it is accomplished, and then at its completion the spirit will not\nlay down its power of work and say: \u201cI have accomplished my labor; I\nwill now rest;\u201d but, instead, passes on with a smile to new departments\nand new scenes of labor.\n\n\n PARENTS SUDDENLY BEREAVED.\n\nA young and beautiful girl, the pet and pride of fond, indulgent\nparents, the joy of the household and its only flower, just passing into\nthe budding stage of womanhood, met with an accident. She was out riding\nwith a friend, when the coachman, who was partially intoxicated, lost\ncontrol of the spirited animal he was driving, and it dashed along the\nroad at headlong speed until brought to a sudden check by rushing\nagainst a great rock by the roadside. The carriage was overturned; one\nof its occupants escaped with but few injuries, as she fell upon her\ncompanion; but the other, the young girl of whom I write, was taken up\nsenseless and conveyed to her home, where a medical examination revealed\nthat a fatal injury had been inflicted upon the spine.\n\nFor nearly three weeks the young lady lingered, enduring the most\nexcruciating agony of body, unable to move, while nothing but the\nadministration of an\u00e6sthetics would give her a moment\u2019s ease from pain.\nAt length her exhausted spirit took its flight from the poor broken\nbody, and she was at rest.\n\nThe parents of this child, whom I shall call Estelle, were in affluent\ncircumstances, cultivated and refined people; the father, however, did\nnot believe in a future life, and his grief at the suffering and death\nof his only child was almost uncontrollable; the mother, a beautiful\nlittle brown-eyed woman, was a member of a Christian church, and while\nshe sorrowed in anguish over the bereavement she had sustained, yet felt\nas one who has something to look forward to; for she hoped to meet her\ntreasure again in another world.\n\nEstelle, who had passed from earthly life and suffering, had been\nlovingly welcomed, and tenderly cared for by gentle ministering spirits,\nwho bore her to a bright home, where immortal flowers bloomed, and where\neverything spoke only of beauty and of joy. The sweet spirit was\ndelighted with all she beheld, and for a brief time seemed to bask in\nthe glory of her new surroundings.\n\n\n THE FATHER\u2019S GRIEF AFFECTS THE SPIRIT.\n\nBut soon those around her observed that she ceased to take an interest\nin them and their work; her thoughts constantly turned backward to earth\nand the home of her parents. Shades of sadness lurked in her lovely eyes\nand clouded her pure face. Soon the cause became apparent; her father\nwas drifting away from her spirit, and she could not hold him by her\nlove. Her mother\u2019s spirit she could meet and soothe and cheer, and so\nleave a quiet blessing of holy peace with her, that upheld while it\nstrengthened; but the father\u2019s spirit was so beclouded and tossed that\nthe spirit child could not find comfort by his side. And no wonder; for\nas the weeks flew by, the father became still more restless and unhappy.\nSaid he to a clergyman who came to condole with him: \u201cSir, it is of no\nuse; I cannot believe in your religion. I can find no hope for a future\nlife in its teachings, no assurance that there is a divine Creator. Why,\nsir, did I believe in the existence of a God who permitted that terrible\nsuffering and horrible death to visit my beautiful, innocent child, who\nnever wronged a human being, or did an unkind thing in her life, I would\ncurse him as a fiend, unfit for human companionship, much less for\nworship.\u201d\n\nSuch talk as this, engendered by morbid, bitter feelings, distressed his\ngentle wife and tortured the spirit daughter; but what could be done?\nThe man seemed to be fast drifting toward hopeless insanity, and there\nwas no one to give him succor and relief. His friends offered him as\nconsolation words of religious sympathy and exhortation; but these only\nserved to madden him the more; while his poor wife could only clasp her\nhands and kneel in prayer to Him who knoweth the needs of each one, and\nresponds to them as he thinketh best.\n\n\n THE SPIRIT SEEKS TO MAKE HER PRESENCE KNOWN.\n\nThe beautiful spirit Estelle had learned that it was possible for\nspirits to return to mortals, manifesting their intelligence and\ndemonstrating their identity to their earthly friends; and feeling that\nnothing but a complete and perfect recognition of her presence would\nconvince her father of her continued existence, and so restore the\nequipoise of his wavering senses, she set herself to work to prove to\nhim the immortality of the soul.\n\nBut how was she to begin operations? Her parents never mingled with\nSpiritualists, would not listen to a word in their favor; they were not\nmediumistic themselves, and their home did not afford suitable\nconditions for spiritual manifestations of any kind. What was to be\ndone? Our friend Estelle visited medium after medium, seeking to\ninfluence them to address her parents; she attended circle after circle,\nin order to gain experience in spiritual control; she devoted her time\nto this work, and the months rolled on, bringing no satisfaction with\nthem, only increased sorrow and gloom to the earthly home, and sadness\nto the waiting, watching spirit, who could only exert just influence\nenough over her paternal parent to prevent him from becoming insane\noutright.\n\nAt length, through the agency of a kindly spirit, Estelle came in\ncontact with a poor and humble working-woman of about twenty-two years\nof age, and after a few experiments found herself able to sway the\nthoughts and control the actions of this person as she desired.\n\nOne morning, this woman awoke with a strange feeling of depression; the\nthought of going to work in the great mill where she was accustomed to\nlabor seemed more than ever distasteful, while the idea of taking a\nholiday for herself appeared very alluring to her.\n\nAfter an early breakfast, dressed in her Sabbath clothes, she emerged\nfrom her boarding-house, but, in place of turning toward the mill,\nwalked in the opposite direction toward the heart of the town, and\nwandered hither and thither, scarce knowing for what.\n\n\n THE RECOGNITION AND ITS RESULTS.\n\nIt was nearly noon of the same day, when Estelle\u2019s mother hastily\nentered her husband\u2019s library and requested him to come out into the\ngarden, for a strange person had been found within the gate who was\nacting in a very unaccountable manner.\n\nThe husband passed out into the garden followed by his wife, and found\nour mill-hand seated by the side of a rose-vine, which had been a\nfavorite of his daughter.\n\nHer eyes were closed, and her hands lay folded in her lap, but at the\napproach of the pair she stretched them out and said: \u201cOh, father,\nfather, don\u2019t you know me? I am your little Estelle, whom you thought\nhad left you; I have not died; I am here with you, to bring to you and\ndarling mother my love. Don\u2019t you know how you used to call me \u2018pet,\u2019\nand \u2018chickie,\u2019 and your \u2018blue-eyed belle?\u2019 Oh, father, I am so glad to\ncome to you, and tell you what a happy home is awaiting you and mother\nwith me.\u201d\n\nThe man and woman were astounded; they knew not what to say; they had\nheard of Spiritualism, but had never attempted an investigation of it,\nand, therefore, did not understand what to do with this strange being.\n\nHowever, she continued to speak, relating story after story of the early\nlife of their child, until at length the mists seemed to clear away from\nthe father\u2019s brain, and he accepted the joyful truth that his child was\nbefore him, not in her own material form, but in control of the organism\nof one who was a perfect stranger to all parties.\n\nI cannot continue these interesting details; suffice it to say that,\nwhen spirit Estelle loosened her control of the medium-stranger, her\nparents were both bathed in happy, joyful tears. The father of the\nspirit questioned the strange woman, who was in a perfect tumult of\namazement, incredulity, and wonder at her surroundings and the strange\nstory related to her.\n\nHer humble history was soon told, and investigation proved its truth. In\na short time, this lowly working-woman was invited to make her home with\nEstelle\u2019s parents, she to receive a liberal compensation as companion\nand medium for them. The generous offer was accepted, and today she is\nan honored inmate of that happy home, where, when evening\u2019s shadows\nfall, Estelle makes her daily visit, to impart instruction and\ninformation concerning the heavenly life to her listening parents, and\nto shower their hearts with loving benedictions, which purify and bless\ntheir souls.\n\nNo longer is the mother sad and despairing; no longer is the father\nbitter and misanthropical; peace and joy have become inmates of their\nhousehold. No longer is the humble medium friendless and alone; a\nbeautiful home and friendly, loving attention are hers. No longer does\nEstelle sorrow and repine; but she returns from the spiritual world day\nby day to accomplish her work of guiding her dear ones home to the\nbetter land.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n AN ECHO FROM THE SUMMER-LAND.\n\n\nThe Summer-land is so near to this mundane sphere of yours, my friends,\nthat I am often led to question why it is you cannot often hear the\nsounds of its busy, active life. But I know that the din and bustle, the\ncares, turmoils, and perplexities of mortal existence have dulled your\nhearing, and sealed your senses to the beautiful, internal, ever-new\nlife and activities of the spiritual universe, and that only in a few\ninstances can you sense the presence and power of invisible, potent\nbeings.\n\nBut I have to record one instance of perception of spiritual things,\nthat I may term an echo from the Summer-land; an echo that brought\nmusic, heart-ease and peace to two weary, suffering human hearts, yet\nencased in the temple of flesh.\n\nRecently a rare case of suffering and devotion has come to my knowledge.\nA woman, young in years, yet a mother and widow, was struggling on in\nspite of want, poverty, and pain, seeking to earn a subsistence for her\ntwo children, grew weary, faint, and exhausted, when her little ones\nwere taken from her without a moment\u2019s warning, and hurried into the\nspirit world by what you of earth call an accident. They were together\nat play, when an embankment caved in and buried them beneath its ruins.\n\nThe poor mother was nearly wild with grief. She became ill, and in a\nlittle time it was found that she could never see again. The shock to\nher system, together with previous exhaustion from over-work, had\nparalyzed the optic nerve, and she was blind.\n\nUpon a lower floor of the humble tenement where this poor woman lived\ndwelt another, a noble soul, one who had seen better days, but had also\nbeen brought to a condition of extreme poverty by the hand of adversity.\nThis was a poor, middle-aged woman, who was employed as night-nurse at a\npublic hospital in the city. She had always presented a kindly, friendly\nmanner to the widow and her children, but nothing of a special nature\nhad been observed.\n\nSuddenly, however, as the terrible catastrophe that hurled the two\nchildren into eternity occurred, this woman seemed to arouse to the\ndistress of her neighbor; and when it was found that the poor woman was\nill and in need, all the heroism of her nature was called forth. She\nhastened to the bedside of the suffering one, nursed and attended to her\nwants with rare devotion, neglected her own comfort for the sake of her\nneighbor, and finally gave up her situation at the hospital, in order to\nbe with her at all times her presence was required.\n\nAt the time of the accident, as the situation of the poor mother became\nknown, a few sympathetic persons contributed certain sums of money for\nher relief; but in a little while these became exhausted, and she was\nagain penniless; then did the kind nurse take prompt action. Not content\nwith caring for the sufferer, she brought her down to her own more\ncomfortable apartments, shared her little store with her while it\nlasted, and watched and tended her like a mother caring for a well-loved\nchild.\n\nBut the invalid was unhappy, aye, wildly unhappy. Her children dead, her\nhome broken up, herself bereft of sight, a weak, miserable wreck of her\nformer self, dependent upon the bounty of another, and that other a poor\nwoman, almost a stranger,\u2014what had she left to live for? Surely nothing,\nshe thought, and daily she longed and prayed for death to come to her\ndeliverance.\n\nBefore a great while, however, the slender resources of our nurse had\ngiven out; then it was that she sought and obtained a kind of cheap\nneedle-work that she could take home, and at the same time attend to the\nwants of her charge.\n\nThese were dark days. Poverty, hunger, and cold sometimes stared them in\nthe face; but still the noble woman faltered not in her labors of love,\nnor ceased to speak cheeringly and encouragingly to the helpless invalid\nshe had chosen to burden herself with.\n\n\n THE LESSON OF SELF-SACRIFICE.\n\nLet me here pause to comment upon the noble, self-sacrificing spirit of\nthis humble nurse. Impecunious herself, she could yet find something to\nspare for another; but far more than this, she could deprive herself of\nthe necessities of life, and devote her time, attention and care to one\nwho had no claim upon her, save as she appealed to the sympathies of a\ntender soul. Risking want and suffering for herself, she gave up her\nonly means of support in order to be able to care for that other, and\nfinally took that other into her own home, shared with her her own\nlittle all, depriving herself of health, strength, and much that makes\nlife bearable, to comfort and sustain her charge. Can human love do more\nthan this? Is spirit love more tender, more self-denying, more\nbeautiful?\n\nThe Nazarene said: \u201cAs ye have done it unto one of the least of these,\nye have done it unto me;\u201d and again, \u201cGreater love hath no man than\nthis, that he lay down his life for another.\u201d But better than the\nsacrifice of life is the constant denial of self, that continually\nblesses another at the expense of the individual.\n\nOh, Spiritualists, heed the lesson of this woman\u2019s work as revealed to\nyou in these pages; heed it well, for by such labors is the soul brought\ninto communion with the angels and fitted to enjoy the blessings of\nheavenly life.\n\nThere are thousands of human hearts pining for some one to love, and for\nsome one to love them; would they but look around them, and take an\nactive, sympathetic interest in their fellow-creatures, they would\nspeedily find some one to love, and would win a soul\u2019s affection in\nreturn.\n\n\n DAYS OF DARKNESS.\n\nThe days sped away, bringing only poverty and want to the little humble\nhome. The brave woman fought nobly to keep the wolf from the door, but\nwith ill success. The invalid still lay exhausted, weak and sightless, a\nhelpless burden, constantly pining for a release that did not come.\n\nDark and dreary seemed the days before them; friends they had none, and\ntheir neighbors took no notice of them. Still the brave nurse resisted\nthe sick woman\u2019s plea to be sent away; well did she know that unkindness\nand neglect would become the portion of that suffering one, did she heed\nher request, and so she struggled on until the hour of which I write.\n\nIt would seem that human distress could go no further. It had been a day\nof suffering untold. Hunger, cold, and darkness settled down upon that\nlittle home, as the shades of night closed in upon a dreary March day.\nThe last morsel of food had disappeared, the last stick of wood burned\nthe day before.\n\nSilence fell upon the inmates of that little room, for their anxiety and\ncare were too great for words. A sense of feeling like despair settled\nupon their hearts; it seemed that the burden of life was too great to be\nborne.\n\n\n WORDS OF CHEER FROM THE SPIRIT LAND.\n\nSuddenly, through the stillness and darkness, there came a faint, sweet\nsound of children\u2019s voices; like a far-off echo from some unseen land it\nfell, swelling louder and louder, until the tones could be distinctly\nheard, and these words sung in chorus floated upon the quiet atmosphere\nof that little room, made holy by the spirit of tender love and\nabnegation:\u2014\n\n \u201cWe come, we come from the Summer-land,\n Our earthly friends to greet;\n We come a happy, joyous band,\n With blessings pure and sweet;\n We bring you peace from Heaven above,\n Where sorrows never come:\n We call your spirits with our love\n To their eternal home.\u201d\n\nA hush of holy quiet now fell upon the tortured hearts of the two women;\npeace indeed entered their souls, for in those angelic tones they\nrecognized familiar voices,\u2014the one, those of her two children, who had\nbeen so recently snatched away from her; the other, that of a beautiful\nboy who, years before, at the tender age of four years, had been called\nhome to the angels, leaving her almost crazed with pain and grief.\n\nThe instance here recorded was the first echo our friends caught from\nthe Summer-land,\u2014nothing more, nothing less than that one little verse\nsang in the familiar tones of their departed children, and which were\nrecognized as those of the voices of loved ones gone before.\n\nWant of space compels me to be brief with my narrative. I must not dwell\non the long, hard, cold winter which these two women were called upon to\nendure; I will only state that on the day following the blessed evening\nthat brought such great comfort and peace to their weary hearts our good\nnurse succeeded in finding a little work, which continued from time to\ntime, and yielded just enough income to purchase the plainest\nnecessities of life.\n\nMany times did these two women feel the pangs of hunger and cold; many\ntimes during that relentless winter did they almost despair of keeping\nlife in the body; but after events proved these bitter experiences to\nhave been refining, spiritualizing, and unfolding to their natures.\n\nFor two months after the spiritual experience which I have recorded\noccurred nothing more was heard or felt of a like character; yet the\nmemory of that one beautiful hour lingered in the hearts of those women,\nand caused them often to speak in rejoicing tones of it. But at last the\ntime came when our poor, sightless invalid began to hear whispered words\nand sweet sounds; lights of golden and azure hue flitted before her\neyes, and finally she beheld smiling faces and shining forms,\u2014first\nthose of her dear children and departed husband, then others that she\nrecognized as those of dear ones who had passed from earth life years\nbefore; and, at length, strange individuals, whom she did not know, yet\nwho smiled upon her, bringing her messages of encouragement, hope and\ncheer.\n\nHer faithful companion and friend had become obliged to leave the\ninvalid daily for a few hours, in order to earn the trifle which she\ncould obtain by menial service to others, and it was during these lonely\nhours that she beheld the glowing forms and listened to the spirit\nutterances of which I write.\n\nMany an evening then did the two women spend in happiness together\u2014the\none in relating her pleasant spiritual experiences of the day, the other\nin listening eagerly to them; and though cold and hunger sometimes\nnipped them severely, yet there were no two happier beings in all that\nlarge city, for they had spiritual meat to eat, which others knew not\nof.\n\nIn describing some of the strange visitants who came to her, and\nmentioning the words they uttered, our invalid was delighted to find\nthat they were recognized by her companion; and now a double joy was\ntheirs, for through the unfolded medial powers of one, both were enabled\nto hold sweet and loving communion with their dear ones in the spirit\nworld.\n\n\n THE MISTS CLEARING AWAY.\n\nIt was a clear, cold Sabbath day in March; our friends were seated\ntogether in their humble room, conversing on spiritual things, when a\nrap upon the door of their apartment startled them,\u2014for visitors they\nhad none,\u2014and in answer to the invitation \u201cCome in,\u201d a lady, clothed in\nheavy and costly apparel, entered. The lady proved to be the wife of a\nwealthy Spiritualist. She had been directed to this humble abode by the\nspirit of her child, who had told her, through a medium, that there she\nwould find manifold evidences of spirit existence, and a medium of great\npower, poor and unknown, in need of assistance.\n\nThe events proved these statements to be true; for hardly had the lady\nentered than the medium beheld a bright light shining all around, and\nstanding in this light were many spirits who spoke their names to her,\nand whispered messages of hope, coupled with words and sentences\nconcerning their identity; and a power she could not withstand impelled\nher to describe those spirits and to repeat their words aloud. The\nvisitor wept for joy at receiving such tokens of spirit power and\npresence; she recognized the spirits, both by their description and\nwords, and for a time it seemed as though heaven had descended to earth,\nand was chiefly known in that almost barren home.\n\nYou may be sure the lady insisted on paying the poor, blind woman\nliberally for her services as medium that day, and departed promising to\nvisit her again in a short time. And not only did she keep her promise,\nbut sent her friends to the poor woman to receive a spiritual baptism.\nNot one went away disappointed; all were gratified with what they\nreceived, and paid for it with willing hearts. At length the visitors\nbecame so numerous that the good nurse found herself obliged to remain\nat home to attend to her charge and those who came daily.\n\nInstead of the spiritual power lessening, it seemed to increase, and the\nmedium grew strong and happy. All care of the morrow passed away, and\nthe two friends now began to reap the harvest of their weary-watching\nand patient trust in God. Our good nurse found sweet compensation for\nall her hours of toil, self-denial and sacrifice; for she had not only\nsome one to love and to love her, but the daily companionship of angels,\nand likewise the comforts that material means can furnish.\n\nIn a short time, our friends were enabled to remove from their humble\nabode to a neat brick house in the heart of the city, which they\nfurnished with taste and an eye to comfort. Here business grew and\nthrived; here the two women lived and blessed each other, the one by\nproviding means of existence, as well as imparting spiritual light, the\nother in tender helpfulness and care for her companion. And today these\ntwo individuals reside in one of your large cities, honored and\nrespected by all who know them.\n\nThe spiritual work goes on; the medium has never regained her sight, but\nshe is no longer the pale, emaciated, despairing being she once was.\nAngel friends have saved her from a living death, and she delights to\nimpart their blessing unto others. She has never been obliged to\nadvertise for business, for she has all she can attend to; and it is not\nfor the wealthy alone she sits, for many a poor soul has received\nspiritual bounty from her, without money and without price; while it is\nthe delight of our dear old nurse, strong and hearty in her well-doing,\nto minister to the bodily comforts of those who are in needy\ncircumstances.\n\nOccasionally she, too, listens to the sound of angel voices, and it\nmakes her heart rejoice; but her grand work seems to be in caring for\nothers.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n THE FORTUNES OF LITTLE GEORGIE.\n\n\nA child, young, fair, and innocent, lay dying among the pillows of a\nsnowy couch in the upper room of a large and spacious house,\u2014the only\nchild of wealthy parents, whose hearts seemed breaking under the\nnecessity of giving their loved one up to death,\u2014for these parents had\nno idea or knowledge of the spirit world, and the power of its\ninhabitants to return to earth and to minister to their friends. All\nthat skill could do or love suggest had been tried for the recovery of\ntheir one ewe lamb, but all in vain; slowly and surely the change was\nstealing upon him, and in a little while his spirit had joined the angel\nband.\n\nOut in the chilly streets, not far from the stately mansion of which I\nhave written, another child, as young and fair and innocent as the\nfirst, sat shivering with cold, and trembling with hunger. What was to\nbe his fate? who could tell? This was the offspring of poor, respectable\nparents; the father had passed to the spirit world, the mother had\nearned her bread by hard labor, until an attack of acute bronchial\ntrouble threatened her life, and she had been taken to the hospital for\ntreatment, where she still lingered, battling with disease; while her\nlittle boy, uncared for and alone, sat in the street, or roamed about,\npicking up a bit here and there as best he could, returning at night to\nthe humble room he had always called home, to throw himself upon his\nlowly bed and weep himself to sleep.\n\nYou may ask, in doubt, \u201cCan such things be? Are such things allowed in a\nChristian land?\u201d and we answer: \u201cYes; here in your boasted civilized\ncountry, little children, the pride and flowers of humanity, are\npermitted to struggle up through poverty, hunger, cold, and misery; and\nthen you wonder at the existence of crime, the spread of evil.\u201d\n\n\n SHADOWS ON EARTHLY PATHS.\n\nThe child of the wealthy parents passed to the higher life, leaving that\nelegant home lonely and desolate, and those parents\u2019 hearts sad and\nsorrowful. The mother of the little street-waif also passed on to the\nother world, leaving her beloved boy homeless and destitute; for the\nauthorities, finding that the woman was no more, sent to her former home\nto ascertain the whereabouts of her friends. The neighbors could tell\nthe messenger nothing, only that there was a little boy of about eight\nyears; but they had seen nothing of him of late. Of the woman they knew\nlittle; she had been a hard-working, decent body, who minded her own\nbusiness and did not talk much.\n\nConcluding\u2014without taking the trouble to investigate the matter\u2014that the\nchild had been taken care of by some one who knew its mother, the city\nauthorities ordered the burial of her remains, stripped her former abode\nof its humble possessions, and when in the coldness and darkness of\nnight the child crept home to his bed, he found the door locked, and\nhimself unable to gain admittance.\n\nAnd thus it happened that he wandered off, until, faint and weary, he\nsank down upon a door-stone, where he was found by a night-watchman and\ntaken to the nearest station. Having been warmed and fed, our little\nwaif told his story. He was then given a place to sleep, and in the\nmorning taken to a charitable institution for children, and left in\ncharge of its matron.\n\nJust three weeks after these events, a wealthy farmer arriving from a\nWestern city visited the institution in search of a boy to accompany him\nhome and learn to do chores on the farm. Our friend Georgie was selected\nto accompany him; and after giving the references required by the\ninstitution concerning his character and ability to care for the child,\nthe stranger departed, taking the little one with him. But arriving at\nhis destination, it transpired that the man of wealth had not taken the\nchild into his own service, but had brought him from the East to deliver\ninto the hands of a neighbor of his, a hard, grasping, relentless man,\nwho proved to be a most terrible and heartless task-master to our little\nboy, whose life now became one of drudgery and abject servitude.\n\nTime passed; the health of the child began to suffer severely under the\nsevere treatment received. This only served to harden his master toward\nhim. It seemed that death must soon come to his release, when an event\nhappened which changed the entire life of the boy, and brought him under\nconditions favorable for the growth of his hitherto stunted powers, as\nwell as for the unfoldment of happiness within him.\n\nWe are not unmindful of the work of the spirit; in this case, the work\nof many spirits. The poor mother who had breathed her earthly life away\nupon a hospital cot had joined her husband and found a sweet home in the\nspirit world; but she had not forgotten her little, homeless boy on\nearth, and it was now her purpose and her mission, aided by her\ncompanion, to work early and late for that child\u2019s welfare.\n\nWith sorrowful hearts did they watch over their loved one, with\nanguished feelings did they behold the misery of his daily life, caused\nand promoted by the severity of his cruel master; and it was with the\ngreatest anxiety that they sought to guard him from evil, and to guide\nhis spirit in the path of right.\n\n\n A SPIRIT MOTHER LEADS HER CHILD.\n\nAt length, one calm summer evening, about eight months after the child\nhad been taken to the West, and placed in the power of his keeper, our\nlittle boy was made happy by a sight of his dear mother. It had been a\nday of unusual hardship\u2014work too heavy for him to perform had been given\nhim to do, and when he broke down under it he had been met with blows\nand curses. Smarting under the infliction, he had crept away to his\nhumble room, beneath the eaves of the old house, and, throwing himself\nupon the lowly bed, had sobbed himself to sleep.\n\nIt was yet early evening, when our little boy suddenly awoke, to behold\nthe well-remembered face of his mother beaming upon him, and to hear her\nwell-known voice saying: \u201cCome, my darling, you have remained here too\nlong, I cannot see you suffer under the power of your cruel master\nanother day; follow me, and God will take care of you.\u201d\n\nThe child, bewildered and but half awake, not doubting but that his\nmother had found him, and had come to take him away\u2014for he had never\nrealized that she was dead\u2014arose from his low couch and softly followed\nthe spirit form as it glided from the room and down the stairs, out into\nthe cool, sweet dusk of a summer evening.\n\nIn the glimmering twilight he stumbled on, still following that form\nwhich he believed to be his mother\u2019s, yet half-awed and somewhat\nfrightened that it did not speak, but only seemed to glide along as\nthough barely touching the ground over which it passed. By-and-bye, the\nwandering child heard the noise and bustle of a large city, not yet\nsettled into the quietude of night, but he lost sight of the form which\nhad led him such a long distance, and realized that he was alone.\n\nWhat a situation for a child of nine years to be in, alone in all the\nworld, homeless and friendless, a waif upon the wide sea of humanity.\nBut do you for a moment imagine that the good spirits had deserted this\nlittle one? Ah, no! Hopeless, helpless, and alone, the child sank down\nby the roadside; the night was warm, the stars gleamed above his head;\nhe was footsore, tired and lame, from his long and wearisome journey.\nSoon he fell into a troubled slumber, his head rolled from side to side,\nand he moaned in his sleep. In this condition he was found by a passing\ntraveller, a gentleman of business, who was journeying to his home in\nthe suburbs of the city, not far away. Not having the heart to leave the\nchild alone, and knowing of no habitation near at hand, this gentleman\ndetermined to convey him to his own home; and as he was travelling by\ncarriage, this was easily accomplished.\n\nUpon reaching his destination, the little boy was kindly received and\ntenderly cared for by Mrs. Webster, the wife of the gentleman who had\nfound him, and her sister-in-law, Mrs. Harris, who, in company with her\nhusband, was visiting this region from their home in the East.\n\nThe terrible hardships which little Georgie had undergone for months,\ntogether with the mental and physical strain of that one night\u2019s\njourney, left him stranded upon a bed of sickness, which lasted many\nweeks, during which time he knew nothing of what was taking place around\nhim; but careful nursing and skillful treatment at length triumphed over\nthe dangerous fever, and the child once more awoke to life and\nconsciousness. We must now leave our little orphan in the care of the\nkind friends who had found him, and return to the eastern city from\nwhich he had been taken by the western farmer.\n\nOur readers will remember that about the time little Georgie wandered\nfriendless and alone throughout the city\u2019s streets while his mother lay\nill in the public hospital, a young child, fair and innocent, lay dying\nin a sumptuously-furnished chamber of an up-town residence. Mr. and Mrs.\nHarris were religious people; they attended a respectable and\nfashionable church, listened to the teachings of their pastor, and\nbelieved the bible to be unqualifiedly the word of God. But in the hour\nof their bereavement they found no relief, no consolation in these\nthings; theirs was utter and profound sadness.\n\n\n VISIONS OF THE NIGHT.\n\nThe lady\u2019s health, never robust, began to fail; she became easily\nwrought upon by her surroundings, and sensitive to the slightest\ninfluence brought to bear upon her; the nervous system was pronounced\nprostrated by her attending physician, who recommended a change of scene\nand associations for her benefit. At times, while her mortal senses were\nlocked in slumber, Mrs. Harris would behold the face of her little boy,\nand hear his well-known tones calling to her in words of love. So real\ndid these visions seem to the lady that she could hardly believe them to\nbe dreams, although\u2014as she said to her husband while relating them to\nhim\u2014her common-sense told her that they could be nothing else.\n\nWeeks passed away, Mrs. Harris dreamed on, drawing comfort and peace\nfrom the nightly visits of her spirit child. The visions became stronger\nand clearer; other forms than that of her little boy were sometimes\nseen, and other voices than his mingled in her ears. These voices spoke\nto the lonely woman of the spirit world, its joys, its home life, and\nits duties; so vivid did they appear to her that she would remember and\nrepeat them to her husband in her waking hours.\n\nAt length the lady began to declare her belief that God had permitted\nher little one to return to her in her hours of sleep, to comfort her in\nher sore affliction; and truly did she seem to grow calm and happy in\nmind, even though her body became more delicate and fragile. Anxious for\nhis wife\u2019s health, and fearful lest her mind was becoming unbalanced,\nMr. Harris consulted with his family physician concerning her strange\ncondition. The doctor examined the lady, and pronounced her of sound\nmind; he declared the nervous system, however, to be shattered, and\nrecommended travel as a means of restoration to health.\n\nAbout this time, Mrs. Harris received a letter from her sister and\nhusband living in the West, urging her and Mr. Harris to visit them in\ntheir far-off home. After mature deliberation on the part of our\nfriends, it was decided to accept the cordial invitation extended by\ntheir relatives, the Websters; and they accordingly prepared to leave\ntheir home for the West, as soon as the spring should open and render\ntravelling comfortable and easy.\n\n\n DREAMS THAT APPEARED STRANGE.\n\nOne morning\u2014soon after the above decision was made\u2014Mrs. Harris appeared\nat the breakfast table in a pre-occupied state of mind, which her\nhusband noticed, and which elicited inquiry from him as to its cause.\n\n\u201cI will tell you,\u201d said the lady. \u201cYou remember Mrs. Stevens, the\nseamstress I used to employ to do my plain sewing? Well, the last time\nshe was here I noticed she labored very hard for breath, and fearing\nthat she had taken a violent cold, I paid her her due, and advised her\nto go home and attend to herself. It was the time Freddie was so very\nill, and in my anxiety for him I forgot all about the poor woman; until\nabout six weeks ago I sent for her to come to me, when I learned for the\nfirst time of her death at the hospital, which occurred last winter.\n\n\u201cI wondered what had become of her little boy, but supposed he had been\ntaken care of by friends. You remember what a liking our Freddie took to\nthe little fellow, and how he always begged to be allowed to show him\nsome toys and give him cake whenever his mother brought him with her.\n\n\u201cWell, for the last three nights I have seen Mrs. Stevens as plainly as\nI ever saw her in my life, but with a look of distress on her face that\nshe never wore in my presence. Last night, our Freddie was with her, and\nI heard him say: \u2018Oh, mamma, her Georgie is in trouble, he is not\ntreated well, he is unhappy, and it makes her so too. I like Georgie,\nand I want you to find him and make him happy, as I am happy in this\nlovely world.\u2019\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d continued the lady, \u201cI have told you my dream. I promised\nFreddie I would do what I could for the little Stevens boy; but I don\u2019t\nknow where he is, I am sure. However, I am certain I have had a visit\nfrom the dead, and I feel that I must keep my promise.\u201d\n\nThis occurrence convinced Mr. Harris that his wife\u2019s sanity depended\nupon his taking her away from home immediately; and so quickly did he\npush his preparations for departure that the end of another week found\nthem fairly started on their long journey.\n\nWe do not propose to enter into the details of the trip, nor of their\nwelcome to their sister\u2019s home. The expectations of Mr. Harris seemed\nabout to be realized. The excitement of the journey, the change of scene\nand of atmospheric influences, appeared to exert a beneficial effect\nupon his wife. The extreme degree of lassitude, formerly so frequent\nwith her, departed; her step became firmer, her eye clearer, her voice\nmore cheerful. Her appetite also began to improve, her new life seemed\nfull of interest to her, and, best of all,\u2014in her husband\u2019s opinion,\u2014no\nmore was heard from her of nightly vision and visiting spirit.\n\nIt was a beautiful morning in summer, when Mrs. Harris startled her\nhusband by exclaiming: \u201cI had a visit from Mrs. Stevens again last\nnight, who said to me: \u2018Remember your promise; my child is in trouble;\nhe will be brought to you ere twenty-four hours have gone over your\nhead; I trust you to take care of him.\u2019 And when she passed from my\nsight, our Freddie came, looking so beautiful that I almost cried aloud,\nso anxious was I to hold him in my arms, and he said: \u2018Dear mamma, I\ncome to you in this way, for I love you, and I want you to see how happy\nI am in the spirit world. I love you and papa dearly, but I don\u2019t want\nto come back here to live. You will come to me by-and-bye; but I want\nyou to have a little boy here to love and care for, and we will bring\nyou Georgie Stevens. The cruel man beats and curses him; you and papa\nmust love him, and teach him of God and the angels; he will be their\ngift to you.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe lady ceased speaking, and the husband stood looking upon her in\nsilence. The sweetness and solemnity in her tones impressed him deeply,\nyet a terrible fear that his wife had become insane filled his soul with\nspeechless sorrow.\n\n\n THE STRANGE DREAMS FULFILLED.\n\nIt was the evening of the same day that Mrs. Webster sat watching for\nher husband\u2019s return from the distant city. He was late, and anxious\nfears for his safety disturbed the serenity of her mind. Mr. and Mrs.\nHarris had retired, but not to rest; for the minds of both were\ndisturbed,\u2014the one over her vision of the night before, the other over\nthe condition of his wife.\n\nIt was near the midnight hour when at length Mr. Webster arrived,\nbearing a burden,\u2014the form of an unconscious child found by him on the\nroadside. The noise and bustle of the arrival aroused Mr. Harris, who\ndecided to investigate. Judge of his surprise to find his brother-in-law\nburdened with a waif of apparently nine years of age,\u2014one, too, whose\nsunburned features seemed strangely familiar to him. Actuated by a\nfeeling of uneasiness, Mrs. Harris wrapped a light shawl around her, and\nalso descended to the lower part of the house to ascertain why her\nbrother had been detained so late.\n\nNo sooner had the eyes of the lady rested upon the face of the child\u2014who\nhad been conveyed to a bed-room and placed upon the couch, where Mrs.\nWebster was now attending to him\u2014than she started forward, exclaiming:\n\u201cIt is, it is Georgie Stevens!\u201d\n\nIn a moment her husband was beside her, and as he, too, gazed upon the\nform before him, the conviction fastened upon his mind that it was no\nother than the little boy whom he had more than once seen in his own\nhouse, and whom he knew to be the son of a poor yet worthy woman\nemployed in former times by his wife as a seamstress. A startled silence\nfell upon all in that apartment, for each one present knew of the\n\u201cstrange dreams\u201d that had visited Mrs. Harris; and as the stillness\ndeepened, a peculiar light shone above the face of the fever-tossed\nchild, which formed into letters, and then words, until the sentence:\n\u201cGod\u2019s and the Angels\u2019 Gift,\u201d could be read, and having been read slowly\nfaded from sight.\n\nWhen the fever abated, and little Georgie returned to consciousness, he\nfound himself cared for by loving friends, who had accepted their charge\nreverently and gladly; and when he became able to relate the story of\nhis miserable life in the West, under the persecutions of his cruel\nmaster, the confirmation of the spirits\u2019 statements to Mrs. Harris was\nreceived. In a little while the child was able to travel, and he was\ntaken by Mr. and Mrs. Harris to their eastern home; for these good\npeople had determined to adopt and educate him as their son.\n\nThrough these occurrences, Mr. Harris sought to investigate\nSpiritualism, which he did to his satisfaction, receiving unbounded\nevidence of its truth. His wife still continues to have \u201cvisions\u201d and to\nhold communion with the spirits, and her soul is happy and at rest.\n\nLittle Georgie, now a youth who bids fair to make a mark in the world,\nhas never seen his own mother since the night he followed her spirit\nfrom the home of his tormentor; but he delights to receive tidings of\nher watchful care over him from the lips of his beloved second mother,\nMrs. Harris, who often holds communion with her spirit in the silence of\nthe midnight hour.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER X.\n LUCY AIKEN\u2019S MISSION.\n\n\nIn relating to you these incidents in illustration of the work of the\nspirit, and its influence upon mortals, you are not to suppose that they\nare fictitious,\u2014truth is ever stranger than fiction; and the events of\ndaily occurrence in the lives of human beings are more marvelous, more\nsignificant, in their bearings toward the mission and destiny of\nindividuals than any tale of novelist can possibly seem to be; while, in\nreality, he who weaves his web of fiction, filled with startling scenes\nand incidents, with which to regale his readers, finds the foundation of\nall that is most real, startling and beautiful in his romance in the\npassing events of daily realistic life.\n\nYet another instance will we relate to you of the earnestness, depth of\nfeeling, intensity of power, and persevering patience displayed by\nspirits in the pursuance of the work they have to perform for the\nbenefit of mortals.\n\nA terrible accident had happened in one of your large cities. A factory\nboiler exploding had dealt destruction all around; but by far the\nsaddest result of the catastrophe might be seen in an upper room of a\ntenement house not far away. A man, once strong and active, but now\nreduced to a mere skeleton, lay breathing the hours away in misery and\npain.\n\nHis spine had been seriously injured from the effects of the explosion,\nrendering him a helpless, hopeless invalid, but not mercifully\ninflicting upon his body a fatal injury. Ah, no! Doomed to live, in\nagony and pain, deprived of strength, the days rolled by bringing no\ncheer to his soul save the blithesome presence, at morn and evening, of\nhis cheery-faced young daughter, who, in her frail person, alone stood\nbetween him and starvation.\n\nThis young girl of sixteen summers was employed in a cotton-mill, where,\nfrom morning till night, she toiled for the small sum of four dollars\nper week, out of which she was compelled to buy food for herself and\nparent, pay the rent of their humble tenement, and provide medicine for\nthe invalid. After this had been accomplished, it would seem that\nnothing could remain for clothing, and yet Katy was always neatly clad\nin clean but coarse garments of her own manufacture.\n\nTime passed, and our cheerful young friend found herself wearing out and\nbreaking down under the burdens imposed upon her. Health gave way, her\nstrength became exhausted, and at length a distressing cough set in,\nwhich the dispensary doctor, who attended her father, declared to be the\nherald of incipient consumption. It seemed that her work at the mill\nmust be given up; but if this was done, what would become of her invalid\nfather, as well as of herself? Ah, who could tell!\n\n\n UNSEEN HELPERS.\n\nThus matters stood with those of whom we write at the commencement of\nour story. Katy still kept at her post, in spite of pain and fatigue,\nand despite the remonstrances of physician and others; and it was found\nthat she could accomplish as much labor, and perform it as\nsatisfactorily, as the strongest and smartest hand in the place. The\ncause of this amount of endurance on the part of a fragile girl, whose\nevery breath was fraught with pain, was a mystery to all who knew her;\nbut not so to the angels. They brought her the power, day by day, to\naccomplish her work to the satisfaction of all; they magnetized her\nweary frame night after night, thus holding the ravages of disease at\nbay, even though they could not deliver her from suffering and pain.\n\nThe humblest of God\u2019s children have spirit friends and attendants, as\nwell as the highest and grandest; spirits who watch over, guide, and\ndirect those under their charge are with the poor and lowly as well as\nwith the wealthy and great; none are forsaken, none forgotten, all are\ncared for and blessed with angel ministrations.\n\nIn this case, the spirit mother of Katy brought strength and power to\nthe girl, aided by wise and good magnetic physicians of spirit life, who\nloved to benefit the needy and soothe the suffering. And the father,\nupon his bed of pain, was enabled to behold his daughter attending to\nhis wants, ministering to his necessities, and caring for him in every\nloving way. Surely a sight to cause rejoicing among the angels, who\ndelight to behold good deeds and noble acts performed for others.\n\n\n A SPIRIT\u2019S EFFORTS TO REACH HER FATHER.\n\nKaty\u2019s father met with the disaster that had injured him for life at a\nfactory, or rather a mill, owned by a corporation, the president of\nwhich, a stern, overbearing man, had but a few years before lost a\nlovely and only daughter of fourteen summers. This beautiful spirit had\nlong sought to influence her father, in order to convince him of her\ncontinued existence, but all in vain, until now she had turned her\nattention to the needs and necessities of the lowly and suffering, and\nhad entered heart and soul into the work of relieving their distress.\nFor ten weeks following the accident the corporation of which we write\npaid the expenses of the suffering man; but at the expiration of that\ntime all help from that quarter ceased, and, as we have said, there was\nno resource but Katy\u2019s scanty earnings for the needs of the invalid and\nherself.\n\nLucy, the spirit daughter of the rich man at the head of the mill, had\nbecome cognizant of these facts, and, being strongly attracted to Katy,\nsought in every possible way to lighten her burdens.\n\nShe now redoubled her efforts to reach and influence her father, for she\nfelt that something must be done for the relief of the young working\ngirl and the suffering man. As yet her efforts were uncrowned with\nsuccess; but still she continued them unceasingly, for she felt that it\nwas her mission to penetrate the crust of worldliness that had gathered\naround her father\u2019s spirit, and to draw him upward toward the higher and\nthe better life.\n\nTime passed. In spite of all that attending spirits could do, Katy was\nsurely breaking down under the wearing labor imposed upon her; for the\nphysical system could not withstand the strain brought to bear upon it.\nOne day she fainted at her work, and it was a full hour before she was\nbrought to her senses by the efforts of the frightened girls who\nclustered around her; then, weak and pallid, she was taken home, to be\nplaced under the care of a physician who was in attendance upon her\nfather. This was a time of sore trial to the members of that little\nfamily; but, although they knew it not, spirit helpers were working for\ntheir benefit.\n\nTwo weeks had passed since the day that Katy had left her work at the\nmill. Mr. Aiken, the president, was in the counting-room as the working\ngirls filed in to receive their week\u2019s wages. Carefully he scrutinized\neach face at the little window until the last one had disappeared, when\nhe turned to the book-keeper and inquired for \u201cMorrow\u2019s girl,\u201d whose\never-cheerful, modest, and smiling demeanor had often attracted his\nattention. He was told that she had left the mill because of failing\nhealth, and the matter was dropped for the time being. But the spirits,\nparticularly gentle Lucy Aiken, and anxious Mrs. Morrow, were determined\nthat the obdurate heart of this dignified man of wealth should be\nsoftened, and they were steadily working to accomplish their purpose.\n\nWeeks lengthened into months, and still Mr. Morrow languished upon his\nbed of pain, and still Katy drooped in her seat by the window where she\nsat striving to perform some needle-work which one of her mill\ncompanions had procured for her, and which she persisted in doing,\ndespite the protest of the doctor whenever he came to visit his\npatients.\n\n\n THE LAST PENNY AND THE LAST APPEAL.\n\nMany times did the work drop from the weary fingers of the sick girl,\nwhile her frame shook with the spasmodic cough which seized upon her,\nuntil at length this kind of work had to be laid aside, and our young\nfriend was obliged to remain idle altogether. In a very short time,\nevery penny of the carefully-saved, hard-earned little store of means\nwas exhausted, and cold and hunger settled upon the little household. It\nwas at this time that the dispensary physician, Dr. Jones, determined to\nsee Mr. Aiken in behalf of his patients.\n\nThe doctor found Mr. Aiken alone in his office, and made his errand\nknown at once. He, the kind physician, related the fallen fortunes and\npresent misery of Mr. Morrow, and his brave daughter Katy, to the\nstern-eyed man of wealth, who listened to the recital in silence. When\nhe had concluded his story, he said, after waiting a moment in vain for\nword or comment from the millionaire: \u201cAnd, so, Mr. Aiken, I have come\nto see what you can do for this man who met with the injury that has\nmade him a hopeless, helpless invalid while in your employ.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not see that I am called upon to do anything,\u201d responded the man\nof means; \u201cthe rule of the corporation is to pay all expenses of an\ninjured employee for ten weeks after the accident. This rule has been\ncomplied with in Mr. Morrow\u2019s case, I believe.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Mr. Aiken,\u201d interrupted Dr. Jones, \u201cconsider the circumstances of\nthis peculiar case, for only a moment, and I am sure your sense of\njustice will prompt you to do something more for this unfortunate man.\nHe was a steady, faithful, and conscientious workman, always at his\npost, ever discharging his duties with promptness and fidelity. Through\nno fault of his own, an explosion occurred, depriving this man of the\nuse of his limbs, and rendering him an invalid for life. True, the\ncorporation paid his expenses for a time, but health did not return to\nhim, and when that supply ceased, his daughter, a young girl, nurse,\ncompanion, and housekeeper in one, entered the mill, and labored early\nand late until her health gave way, and she, too, became an almost\nconfirmed invalid I feel\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\n THE INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT BEGINS TO SHOW ITSELF.\n\n\u201cThere, doctor, that will do,\u201d interrupted the rich man, \u201cI cannot\nlisten longer, as I have an engagement to meet in just five minutes.\nHere are ten dollars; give them to Mr. Morrow, and perhaps\u2014not\npositively, mind you, but possibly\u2014I may make it in my way to call upon\nhim before many days.\u201d\n\nThe doctor took the money tendered him, and retired from the presence of\nthe great merchant with a sigh, thinking to himself: \u201cAh, well, it is\ntrue that \u2018corporations have no souls,\u2019 and it seems to me that the\nindividuals who form these corporations have very little ones. The\npitiful sum he has given me will provide for the wants of my patients\nfor a few days only, and I must cast about in some other quarter for\nassistance. I will again make application for their admittance to the\nhospital before the money is exhausted; they will have to be separated,\nbut it cannot be avoided;\u201d and so musing he passed on his way.\n\nSweet, gentle, Lucy Aiken! Mild and benign spirit, working for a\nfather\u2019s enlightenment, striving to elevate the soul of a beloved parent\nabove the selfishness of worldly interests and personal grandeur! She\nhad no thought of allowing the matter to rest here, and she lingered by\nthe side of that parent, filling his mind with thoughts of the suffering\nand destitute family whose circumstances had been so eloquently\npresented to him that day by his visitor, Dr. Jones, and causing him to\nturn in spirit toward that humble home many times, until at last, \u201cto\nget rid of the thing,\u201d he murmured, Mr. Aiken ordered his carriage and\nwas driven down to the humble neighborhood of Morrow\u2019s tenement.\n\nThe injured man lay stretched upon his couch in a passing paroxysm of\npain as the merchant entered. By his side, leaning back in an easy\nchair, sat his daughter Katy, so pale, wasted and wan in appearance that\nshe seemed more like a wraith that would vanish away at a touch than a\nhuman being. Mr. Aiken was startled at the sight that met his gaze,\u2014the\nsuffering inmates, the extreme destitution, yet cleanly surroundings of\nthat humble home, spoke more eloquently to this man rolling in wealth,\nand wrapped up in self-sufficiency, than a hundred sermons on the poor\ncould have done; and, strange to relate, while questioning the pallid\ngirl concerning her own and her father\u2019s condition, his lower lip\nactually trembled with emotion.\n\n\n THE SPIRIT DAUGHTER\u2019S PRESENCE.\n\nAh, this was a place where spirits could gather and perform their work,\nand Lucy Aiken came so near to Katy Morrow at this time that her\npresence quite overshadowed the features of the invalid, and reflected\nits expression and influence upon them, causing the face of the mortal\ngirl to assume a striking likeness to the well-remembered features of\nthe spirit, the loved and loving daughter of Mr. Aiken. It was this\nsight that thrilled the visitor with emotion, and caused his eyes to\ngrow dim with unshed tears.\n\nAt that interview with the invalids\u2014Mr. Morrow and his daughter Kate\u2014the\nproud heart of Mr. Aiken became softened as it had never been before;\nthe time, place and circumstances exerted a strange influence upon him,\nfor which he could not account, and he left, promising to send\nassistance, and also to come again, which promises were faithfully kept.\nA strong and capable female nurse was engaged to attend the sufferers,\nand arrangements were made with the proprietors of various stores to\nsupply the family with whatever they required, without stint or\nquestion.\n\nMr. Aiken found himself unable to remain long away from that humble\nabode; again and again was he to be seen in the home of Mr. Morrow,\nquestioning the suffering man concerning his malady, conversing with the\ninvalid daughter in relation to her ailments, or speaking words of cheer\nto both. At each visit the likeness between Katy Morrow and the\nlong-lost darling of his heart grew upon him. Ah, little did he know\nthat it was the presence of his angel child that caused the marvelous\nlikeness, and that at every visit of her father the spirit gained power\nto come closer and closer to him; or, indeed, that it was herself, dear\nLucy Aiken, who filled her parent\u2019s mind day after day with the desire\nto visit these humble but worthy people.\n\n\n HAPPY RESULTS OF SPIRIT EFFORTS.\n\nIn a little while, under the generous treatment and kindly care bestowed\nupon them, both invalids began to show signs of improvement in their\ncondition, and soon good Dr. Jones\u2014who still continued to visit them,\nand who looked upon the visits and assistance of the proud capitalist\nwith silent but approving amazement\u2014declared that, with the approach of\nearly spring, it would be advisable to remove them to some country place\nwhere they could enjoy the fresh air and mellow sunlight. Accordingly,\nMr. Aiken took it upon himself to provide such a place.\n\nA few miles from the great city there is a quiet, peaceful village,\nwhere the flowers bloom and birds make cheerful music through all the\ngolden summer time. It is a lovely spot, where Nature dons her fairest,\nfreshest robes in which to charm the eye and delight the senses of those\nweary travelers who linger there in order to gain strength and repose of\nmind and body. In this pleasant spot, Mr. Aiken, the man of wealth,\nmakes his summer home; and it was here he determined to find a place for\nMr. Morrow and his daughter.\n\nBy this time, Mr. Aiken had enlisted the interest and sympathies of his\nwife in the case of the invalids, and it was mainly through her\nexertions that a pretty cottage located on a quiet lane, and partly\nshaded by the branches of a magnificent old elm, was secured for their\noccupancy.\n\nIn due time our friends were removed to this pleasant retreat, and it\nreally seemed that the change was calculated to work a marvelous cure in\nthe condition of both invalids, so rapidly did they acquire strength in\nthe genial atmosphere in which they now dwelt. In a little time,\nhowever, it was seen that Mr. Morrow\u2019s days in the form were numbered.\nThe spinal trouble from which he suffered became aggravated to an\nintense degree, and all that could be done was to make his sufferings as\nlight as possible by skillful treatment and care. All that kindness\ncould do was done.\n\nMr. Aiken and his wife, who had grown wonderfully attached to Katy\nMorrow, spared no pains to make his last days peaceful and happy; and\nwhen his mortal eyes closed upon the scenes of earthly life, which they\ndid in the latter part of August, it was with a knowledge that kind\nfriends and faithful hearts were ready to care for the orphan child he\nwas to leave behind.\n\nIn the meantime, Miss Katy was slowly but surely regaining health and\nstrength in the glow of the new life which had come upon her. Skillfully\nnursed and attended by her physician and waiting woman, petted back into\nhealth by the loving sympathy of Mrs. Aiken and the thoughtful kindness\nof the merchant, the roses began to show themselves once again on her\ncheeks, her form and features became rounded out with new vigor, until\nat length Dr. Jones declared her to be no longer an invalid, and said\nthat he would now restore her name to the lists of the hearty and\nhealthy ones of the land.\n\nEach day spirit Lucy Aiken visited Katy Morrow, whom she had chosen for\nher medium, and through her instrumentality was enabled to come into\nspiritual communion with her beloved parents, although as yet they had\nno thought of such a thing. Already had the sweet spirit performed a\nwonderful work. By the influence she exerted upon her father, she had\nstrengthened his higher nature and given it power to rise above the\nslough of worldliness, self-interest and cold indifference to others, in\nwhich it had been long submerged, and had so sweetened and mellowed his\nspirit, and caused it to blossom out in deeds of kindness and even\nloveliness, that Katy Morrow expressed herself, in contrite tones, to\nher friend Dr. Jones, for \u201cever daring to think of dear, kind Mr. Aiken\nas unkind and hard-hearted.\u201d\n\nAs for the good physician, he was all wonder and amazement at the\nunaccountable change which had been wrought in the disposition of the\nwealthy merchant; but he took good care not to express his opinion\nbefore others, for he felt that here was something he could not\nunderstand.\n\nNor was this the only labor accomplished by the sweet spirit. Hitherto,\nMrs. Aiken had been a restless, nervous, easily-excited creature,\u2014one\nwho often declared nobody understood her since her dear Lucy died, and\nwho had many times made her husband unhappy and uncomfortable by her\nforlorn repinings. But since she had come into communication with Kate\nMorrow and her invalid father, and had witnessed their patient endurance\nand fortitude under suffering, as well as felt the influence exerted\nupon her being by the spirits gathered in their humble home, this\nunhappy lady seemed to be a new creature. She became calm and tranquil,\nand in her care and solicitude for others forgot to remember self or to\ncomplain of her many trials. Thus did the work of the spirit spread,\nuntil it included these two humans in its loving embrace; the husband\nand wife seemed to understand each other once more. In these days they\ngrew together, and, from consulting each other over the case of their\nhumble friends, they began to counsel with each other over home affairs,\nuntil at last they appeared to be once again one in perfect harmony of\nthought and intention.\n\nIt had been decided that, after the death of Mr. Morrow, his daughter\nKate should enter the home of Mrs. Aiken as companion and private maid\nto that lady, a decision that was agreeable to all parties, and which\nfilled the mind of the dying man with content when he learned of it.\n\n\n ANGEL VISITS NOT FEW NOR FAR BETWEEN\n\nThree days had passed since the death of the worn-out body, and it had\njust been consigned to the bosom of mother-earth, there to rest forever.\nKaty Morrow and her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Aiken, were seated in their\nprivate sitting-room. The girl looked pale and exhausted from the\neffects of the trials of the last few days. Mrs. Aiken was just thinking\nof advising her to retire to rest, and was looking at her for that\npurpose, when she was startled at beholding a change steal over the face\nof the girl. At first, the lady thought Kate had swooned; but in a\nmoment she was undeceived. The face became transfigured and shone with\nan unearthly light, assuming the cast of features and expression of a\nman\u2019s countenance. Slowly they developed, until they appeared plain and\nunmistakable. It was the well-known face of Mr. Morrow, whose mortal\nlineaments had but a few hours before been covered up from sight.\n\nThe lips moved, and Mr. Aiken, whose attention had been directed to the\nscene by the frightened gestures of his wife, and who had started\nforward, caught these words: \u201cI come to tell you I am happy; all pain is\nremoved; tell Kate I am with her mother now; we bring our love, our\nblessing; we will care for her; we bless you all.\u201d\n\nIn a moment the scene changed; the features of the sleeping girl resumed\ntheir natural appearance, but for an instant only. Before any word could\nbe spoken by the astonished spectators, they beheld a sight which\nelectrified their souls, and\u2014as soon as they could comprehend it\u2014filled\nthem with the keenest rapture: none other than the well-remembered face\nof their darling Lucy, whom they had long mourned as lost to them, gazed\nupon them with an expression of the most angelic love and peace.\n\nIn a little while the spirit gained power to speak to her parents,\nassuring them of her presence with them from the day of her physical\ndecease,\u2014of her endeavors to announce herself to them, relating scenes\nin the spirit world, and speaking of her home of light there. Thus did\nshe continue until the shades of doubt, perplexity, and incredulity\nfaded from the father\u2019s face, until the sensation of terror vanished\nfrom the mother\u2019s heart, when, with a tender caress to both parents, she\nbade them adieu. You can imagine the rapture and happiness which dawned\nupon that household at this revelation of life and love from beyond the\ngrave. Words fail to express the joy they felt; it must be experienced\nto be fully appreciated.\n\nIn a little time it became almost a daily occurrence for Kate Morrow to\nbe controlled by some dear spirit from whose lips the Aikens received\nmany lessons of instruction and benefit. Their darling child was enabled\nto explain the past, and her efforts to reach them. Not only did this\nbright spirit, and Mr. and Mrs. Morrow, come with messages of love and\nadvice, but other dear ones also manifested their presence, until it\nseemed that the gates of heaven were indeed opened and the angels\nthronging through.\n\nNo happier home is to be found anywhere than that of the Aikens. From\nthe experiences of the past they have learned many lessons. As\nbenefactors to the needy and suffering they are widely known, for they\ndelight to use their wealth for good, under the direction of their angel\nfriends; while Katie Morrow is looked upon by all as the favored\ndaughter of a most happy and lovable couple.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n EXPERIENCES IN SPIRIT LIFE.\n\n\nIn my investigations into the mode and manner of living beyond earth\u2019s\nportals, and in my desire to gain knowledge of spiritual things, I have\nvisited many places, witnessed various scenes,\u2014some strange, others\nfamiliar,\u2014and have interviewed a number of spirits in regard to their\nown experiences. A portion of the information thus acquired I propose to\ntranscribe for my readers.\n\nI do not think that mortal\u2014even well-educated, well-informed\nSpiritualists\u2014realize fully that all around them spirits live, that the\nvery atmosphere pressing around them is peopled by human, conscious,\nindividualized beings, each intent upon his or her own work, purpose or\nmission, be it good or be it evil. While this is true, it is also true\nthat the spirit world has its localities, its homes distinct from your\nhomes, its natural scenery, and its places of interest; its life is as\nreal, and its inhabitants pass through many and varied experiences, even\nas do the denizens of the mundane sphere.\n\n\n THE VARIOUS CLASSES OF SPIRITS NEAR THE EARTH.\n\nIn passing, let me simply state that those beings who people the world\naround you, who dwell in earthly homes and pursue a labor in connection\nwith material life, are not all attracted to this locality of yours by\nthe same conditions. Some of these spirits are bound to physical life\nbecause of the grossness of their under-natures; their joy is found in\npursuing carnal pleasures; they have no desire to rise above the\nconditions of matter. A portion of the spirits abiding here are held by\nthe selfish affection of their mortal friends who cling to them,\u2014if only\nin memory,\u2014with a passionate sorrow and despair that will not let them\nrise above the earthly sphere; and for a time such spirits remain in\ncontact with material life, because they yet lack the power to rise\nabove its conditions. Others find their work and pass a large part of\ntheir existence here, in connection with the physical, in doing good,\nministering to the spiritual necessities as well as laboring for the\nalleviation of the physical wants and sorrows of suffering humanity. And\nso you have a world within a world right here, and a double life\npulsating, where you only perceive the manifestations of the external;\nand those of you whose aspirations are holy, whose desire is to be of\nuse in the world, who strive to do right, attract the good spirits to\nyour side; they come to gain magnetic strength from your lives, which\nenables them to resist the friction of material conditions while\npursuing their labors for others, and at the same time they impart a\nblessing of peace to your souls. Often do you entertain unawares pure\nand silent guests, who watch you with their holy eyes and read your\nhearts with unerring precision.\n\nAnd those of you whose aims are all personal and selfish, whose motives\nare impure and unworthy, who do not cultivate charity and kindly feeling\ntoward others, attract undeveloped, unreliable spirits to your homes;\nthey come depleting you of vital and spiritual strength, thus leaving\nyou unarmed for the battles of life. Sowing discord in your hearts,\ntheir presence is a curse to all. Where ill-harmony, want of sympathy\nand distrust abound in families, these selfish, malicious spirits\ndelight to throng, and thither they flock, by their presence to increase\nthe unhappiness of the home of strife, while at the same time fostering\ntheir own disposition to live a sensuous life. And so it behooves each\none of earth to look well to the personal life they live, for upon its\ncharacter depends not only their own happiness but also the well-being\nof many others.\n\n\n THE POWER AND EXTENT OF PERSONAL INFLUENCE.\n\nThese things of which I speak I have learned through my experiences with\nspirits, and they have opened up a vast field of inquiry concerning the\ninfluence which we as individuals, embodied, or disembodied, exert upon\none another,\u2014a field that is yet to be explored thoroughly by the\ninvestigating spirit of man; and when its problems are solved, and its\nquestions correctly answered, I believe we shall understand many\nmysteries which now puzzle humanity, and comprehend more fully the\nconditions pressing around and upon mankind. And in this way, and from\nthese experiences, we will learn to so regulate our individual lives\nthat only the best influences will emanate from them, and only the\nhighest results flow from their midst.\n\nIt has interested me to perceive the lives led by spirits in the body;\nfor when I come in close contact with a mortal, I can behold the\ninterior workings of the spirit within, and know whether its tendency is\nupward or downward; for life is continuous everywhere, and what its\nenvironments and conditions are to the mortal, so are they of the same\nkind as those to the spirit,\u2014apart from the body,\u2014only differing in\ndegree, those of the untrammeled spirit perhaps being less limited,\nintolerant, and arbitrary. And so spirits begin their vital experiences\nin the body and work out through them into the larger freedom, the\nbroader realities and wider expanse, of the immortal world. These truths\nare suggestive of thought to the studious mind, and teach the lesson\nthat you, mortals, are God\u2019s children now,\u2014his spirits at the present as\nmuch as you ever will be; and it is your bounden duty to brighten,\nunfold, and bless your spiritual life in the body as much as it will be\nto do so by-and-bye, when you leave the tenement of clay for another\nhome \u201cnot made with hands.\u201d\n\n\n BEULAH, A SPIRIT MISSIONARY\n\nI wish to tell you, my friends, of a dear, beautiful spirit who is a\nmissionary of joy and peace, a true ministering angel to many a sad and\nweary soul,\u2014one whom I shall call Beulah in speaking of her to you, for\nshe is really a beautiful, blessed being. This spirit lived in the\nmortal form to an advanced age, but long since passed to the spirit\nworld, after an earthly life of varied experience,\u2014one flecked here and\nthere with sunbeams, but also one that was thickly sown with tears; for\ntrouble, privation, and sorrow were often her portion.\n\nTo look upon this sainted being now,\u2014her whole form illuminated with the\ninterior light of a pure soul, her features, no longer care\u2014worn and\nbearing the impress of weakness and age, but beaming with the bloom of\nvigor and strength, and showing only the traces of matured experience\nand thought, radiant with benevolence and kindliness,\u2014with the glance of\na casual observer you would have no idea that this woman had suffered as\nfew are called upon to suffer, even in this mundane sphere; and only the\nwatchful, experienced eye would detect the signet of firm endurance and\nquiet patience resting upon that noble countenance, and realize that\nthat signet had been won through sufferance of sorrow, deep and stern.\nYet so it was; and it is this calm, sweet, even holy expression, such as\nyou might imagine martyrs wearing, which imparts a loftiness of\ncharacter to the features of this truly spiritual being.\n\nWith the early life of Beulah we have nothing to do; it is only of her\nspiritual experience and work that we wish to speak. When this woman\nentered the spirit land, laying down the casket of flesh with its\nweakness and weariness, she did not find herself an exhausted being, one\nlacking the vital force of activity, the fire of energy or the potency\nof will; for through all the struggles of her mortal career she never\nlost faith in the power and the goodness of God to evolve light from\ndarkness, strength from weakness, and knowledge and wisdom from the\nbitter trials of existence She never faltered or fell fainting by the\nway, but rather bravely struggled on in spite of disaster and care.\nTherefore, hers was a brave, strong spirit, one that gathered power from\nthe storms of adversity, sweetness from affliction, and knowledge from\nthe lessons of life; and when she had thrown off the useless body of\nclay, she found her inner powers springing up renewed and quickened, and\nready to out-work themselves in useful labor for humanity.\n\nIt was my good fortune to become associated with this dear\nwoman,\u2014indeed, she was one of the first to bring me strength and cheer\nin my new-found spirit home; for she is one of my kin, and when my heart\ngrew faint within me for the old earthly life with parents and mortal\nfriends, as it sometimes would, it was her words, her tender, brave,\nhopeful ministrations that revived my drooping spirits, and led me to\nlearn something of the helpful, active, benevolent labor of her life in\nthe spheres. No tale of sorrow is ever poured into her ear without\nmeeting with a responsive flood of sympathy and cheer that lightens the\nweary soul of its burden forthwith. Let Beulah become aware of any soul\nin distress, and she is constantly learning of such, and she is ready to\nseek that suffering one; and by the influence her presence imparts, she\nsucceeds in uplifting, strengthening, and benefiting him or her.\n\n\n BEULAH\u2019S SELF-SACRIFICING BENEFICENCE.\n\nI have watched carefully the work of this remarkable woman, and have\nnever known her to fail in imparting relief to any suffering one whom\nshe sought to assist; her indomitable, yet tender, loving spirit seems\nto know no such word as failure or defeat. She wills to succeed in her\nwork, her whole soul is engaged in it; with her it is truly a labor of\nlove; her own past experience has surcharged her heart with sympathy and\naffection for mankind; she despises no one, not even the vilest sinner;\nshe would not hesitate to go down into the depths of the darkest, most\noffensive conditions to rescue a human being, even though her pure hands\nand her beautiful garments were grievously besmirched thereby; and she\nwould succeed in her efforts for that human being\u2019s redemption, for her\nunflinching bravery, her untiring patience and unwavering gentleness,\nwould cause her to won the victory over all foes.\n\nYou can perhaps gain an idea from what I tell you of Beulah of the\nusefulness, nobility, and grandeur of such lives as hers; and just such\nlives are attained by all spirits who are firm, enduring, patient, and\nunselfish. Those who grow strong through suffering, even as the oak tree\ngains strength and vigor because of the blasts that shake its sturdy\nframe; those whose spirits are mellowed, sweetened, and ripened, despite\nthe calamities that befall them in their journey through matter,\neventually become just such beautiful ministers of love and light, of\njoy and gladness, as this woman of whom I write today.\n\nI have known Beulah to leave her bright, happy home in the supernal\nrealm and immure herself in some dark, unsightly, and miserable place\nwhere a human being groveled in the haunts of wickedness, sorrow, or\ndespair, in order to bring the magnetic rays of light from her own pure\npresence and the soothing, cheering influence of her beautiful sphere,\nto bear upon that unhappy spirit for its own advancement; and I have\nknown her to absent herself from her nearest friends for months, during\nwhich time she was engaged in ministering to the wretched and sad,\nwalking by their side, dwelling in their midst, never withdrawing her\nhelpful influence from them until she had succeeded in elevating their\nspirits above the gross desires of carnal life, or awakening within them\nemotions of peace and hope where before only despair and woe had\nreigned. Oh, this one blessed spirit has accomplished great good in her\nown humble manner. Because of her ministrations alone, hundreds of souls\nnow blossom out in gladness and beauty, which before were shadowed by\ndesolation and the keenest pain.\n\n\n REFORMATION OF SPIRITS IN THE LOWER SPHERES.\n\nIt is true that hundreds of evil-minded, ignorant, crude, and unfolded\nspirits pass out of the body annually, and it is also true that most of\nthese unfortunate ones remain for a long time in the darkened condition\nwhich the effects of their earthly career have surrounded them with; but\nwhile this is so, it is sweet to know and realize that good and noble\nsouls, enlightened and developed spirits, are making grand and\nunwearying efforts to elevate, strengthen, and educate those who come to\nthe eternal world bowed down by moral weakness and spiritual infirmity.\nThese endeavors for the sake of others, are not without avail,\u2014on the\ncontrary they are grandly successful; and while we are constantly\nreceiving new arrivals of such poor unfortunates in the spirit world who\nare in need of the ministrations of pure and good teachers and helpers,\nwe are as continuously finding other heretofore ill-disposed spirits\narousing to the requirements of their being, to the necessity of making\nan effort to rise above the darkness and slough of evil conditions, and\nto a desire for a holier and a better life; and I am glad to be able to\nreport to you this grand truth. Daily are the angels of goodness called\nupon to rejoice over many sinners who, repenting of their wrong-doing,\nare determined to become worthy members of humanity. Therefore, though\nlargely peopled with undeveloped, unholy human beings, even the lowest\nspheres of the spiritual world are spheres of advancement, wherein are\nprovided facilities and opportunities, i.e., conditions for the growth\nof their inhabitants, which conditions are seized upon as soon as the\ntorpid minds centered there became sufficiently aroused under the\nstimulating, supporting light brought to bear upon them by unselfish\nministers of helpful goodness, to become aware of their true position\nand the degradation of a human soul which it implies.\n\n\n ILLUSTRATIVE INSTANCE OF THE REFORMATION OF A SPIRIT.\n\nSome time since\u2014years ago, as mortals measure time\u2014an individual came to\nthe spirit world who presented a most deplorable and pitiable condition.\nHe had been one of those unfortunates who are reared in iniquity; it\nwould seem almost as though the doctrine of total depravity was\ndemonstrated in his case. His soul was stained with crime in its various\ndegrees, and at length his earthly career terminated upon the gallows,\nin expiation of the life of a little innocent child he had ruthlessly\ndestroyed. It would be impossible for me to describe to you the tortures\nof misery through which this spirit has passed, such suffering I can\nonly faintly conceive of; it must undoubtedly be experienced to be\nunderstood. But this I am assured of: the torments of a lake of literal\nfire and brimstone would be pleasant compared to this. At first he\nseemed plunged in an abyss of apathy, of squalid and stupid\nhelplessness, from which he would occasionally arouse only to curse\nhumanity, and send out a revengeful, diabolical influence which, from\nthe intensity of its power, as directed by the positive will of this\nevil-minded man against those who had accused him of wrong-doing and\ncondemned him to his present condition, sped like a ball of flame\nbearing destruction in its heart to the peace of mind, happiness, and\nprosperity of more than one who had testified against him.\n\nIt became the mission of Beulah to operate upon the mind of this\nterrible creature, and she set about the task without flinching. For a\nlong time he seemed impervious to her ministrations, insensible of her\npresence and influence: but she did not falter nor grow weary with her\nwork. Finally the magnetism of her presence began to be felt, and to\narouse him from his terrible condition; he began to perceive dimly that\na bright and beautiful being was beside him. This tended to frighten\nhim, and he struggled to get away; but all in vain. He tried to utter an\noath, but found himself powerless to do so. There was an influence upon\nhim which he could not understand; a light seemed to stream in upon him\nfrom which he vainly tried to hide. An illuminating light which radiated\nfrom Beulah, and which all pure, exalted spirits bear, had at last begun\nto penetrate the darkness of this man\u2019s soul; all-searching in power, it\nseemed to lay bare every recess of his being, and he recoiled from the\nexposure. He could not hide himself in darkness, for all gloom had\nperished; nothing remained but that, to him, terrible light which\nrevealed to him his past life in all its deformity. This was punishment\nof the direst kind, and he writhed in torment. In the clear light of\nBeulah\u2019s magnetism he beheld the sweet face of the little one he had\nbodily destroyed gazing upon him with pitying, gentle eyes. The sight\noverpowered him, he sought to shut it out, but he could not do so; still\nit haunted him, and he could not escape it until it was withdrawn to\ngive place to another,\u2014one loving, earnest, kindly brooding over him\nlike the face of an angel mother,\u2014only, alas! this poor soul had no\nangel mother to guide it. The being who had given him mortal birth still\ndwelt on earth a degraded, besotted, helpless creature. The face he now\nbeheld was the face of Beulah. The sweet, benign expression of this face\ncalmed and comforted the man; he stretched out his hands to it in\nsupplication, and from that moment the evil in his nature was broken and\nsubdued; for, dawning upon his soul came a faint realization of that\nlife where holy ones, such as this beautiful being, reside, and with it\na desire, not a hope, not a belief, but only a wish to be good, entered\nhis soul and pierced it through and through.\n\nThe experience through which this man passed, which I have briefly and\nhastily sketched to you, was one bitter and keen in intensity, one not\nof moments but of years; and all this time Beulah had labored, hoped and\nwatched for the dawn of reason in his mind, which came with the\nabandonment of evil thoughts and purposes, and the adoption of that\ncondition of mind which recognized the supremacy of goodness, and\ndesired to learn and know something of it.\n\n\n THE WORK CARRIED TO COMPLETION.\n\nBut the work had now only commenced; for if it was difficult before to\ncope with and over-power a mind reeking with evil thoughts and impure\ndesires, how distressing was it now to witness the struggles\u2014almost\nhopeless as they were\u2014of this spirit to get away from the remembrance of\nhis past career. How sad to behold him putting forth feeble efforts\ntoward feeling kindly concerning others, and to see him fall back\ndespairingly, with the thought that he could never associate with such\nas he! How touching to witness his endeavors to cherish only pure\ndesires and to banish evil from his mind, even while the memory of past\ndays haunted him with horror. And yet, every thought, desire,\naspiration, and effort for good which he made brought with it such a\npower to encourage and uphold his spirit that it became impossible for\nhim to sink back into his former condition of degradation and iniquity;\nand as time rolled on, his struggles with self gradually grew fewer and\neasier, until at length right triumphed and wrong was overcome. Through\nall this time, Beulah encouraged and supported him by her presence, her\nmagnetic power and her words of cheer; and, as experience after\nexperience came to him, his conditions brightened. He was led out of the\ngloom, out of the forests of unpleasant and inharmonious surroundings,\nuntil at length no longer sandy wastes and rocky places were his home,\nbut fertile fields and blooming forests offered shelter and refreshment\nto his spirit. And at last, when her work with him was finished, and she\nbeheld him a soul redeemed from sin through suffering, developed from\nignorance by experience, made even peaceful through his power and desire\nto assist others, Beulah brought to him the sweet spirit, now grown a\nbeautiful woman, whom he had sent untimely into the spirit world, to be\nhis teacher, helper, and guide.\n\nHe could bear to look upon the sweet face now, could humbly listen to\nthe teachings of one so pure and good; all wretchedness and misery which\nit was possible for him to experience had been passed, and therefore he\nwas prepared to accept the ministrations of this beautiful being in lieu\nof those of Beulah, whose duty called her elsewhere. And thus, harmony\nof life was restored to the broken soul; the presence of the one he had\ninjured only served to make him more humble in spirit, self-sacrificing\nand benign, charitable, pitiful, and tender to the erring and degraded\nwherever they were to be found. Beulah departed to her celestial home,\nwhere a glad, fond welcome awaited her; but the soul she had blessed\nremained in his own spirit home, not to grow idle or neglectful of\nothers, but to do unto those in need as he had been done by; to impart\nstrength, courage, and knowledge to his fellows while still continuing\nto advance in spiritual attainments himself.\n\nYou may wonder what connection the spirit brought to this man by Beulah\nhad with his work. The child maiden was not with him all the time, other\ngood spirits were associated with him in his home and his work; but\nwhenever she felt that she could be of use to him, this sweet spirit\nwould come and lead him to whatever place she felt there was a lesson\nawaiting his spirit. Sometimes it would be to spots on earth where\nspirit help was required by suffering mortals; sometimes to haunts in\nspirit life where a higher influence was required by struggling souls,\nand sometimes to the homes of little children in the Summer-land, whose\nhappy, peaceful lives afforded a valuable lesson to the observing\nspirit. From all these experiences he of whom I write gathered power,\nstrength, and light to go on with his work.\n\n\n THE REFORMED SPIRIT RETURNS TO EARTH TO REFORM OTHERS.\n\nOne instance of the good work accomplished by this same arisen, reformed\nspirit I must relate to you. It was after he had become strong in his\nmanhood and powerful to resist and conquer evil. He had for some time\nfelt a desire to revisit the lower haunts of spirit life, where he had\nonce lived, feeling that perhaps he might be able to help some\nunfortunate one as he had been aided during the past. Yielding to the\nimpulse, he found himself plunged in darkness, but only for a moment;\nfor the light proceeding from his own person penetrated the gloom, and\nenabled him to behold his surroundings clearly. I cannot dwell upon his\nexperiences here, but must hasten on to tell you that the first spirit\nhe encountered who was immersed in the darkness which a besotted,\nsensual life on earth surrounds one with was his own mother,\u2014the being\nwho had given him a mortal birth. Here was work for our spirit, indeed;\nand he set about it right royally, never faltering, never growing\ndisgusted or disheartened. I cannot tell you of the almost infinite\namount of care, patience, endeavor, and affection our redeemed one\nexhausted on that selfish, stupid, and ignorant mother before he was\nrewarded by one answering gleam of love and the sight of one faint\ndesire in her soul to be like him. But at length he succeeded in his\nwork, from which he paused not until the redeeming power was fully and\nfreely making its way through the soul of that woman, and slowly but\nsurely lifting her up to the level of the pure and good,\u2014a sight over\nwhich angels and seraphs might weep with joy,\u2014that of a once-hardened\ncriminal, though now a redeemed and honest man, laboring unselfishly,\nearnestly, and constantly to elevate a wretched, degraded, and dishonest\nwoman\u2014his own mother\u2014out of the bonds of darkness, the haunts of sin, a\nwork that was finally accomplished, and which brought gratitude, joy,\nand honor to many hearts.\n\nThis is no fancy sketch I have penned for you, but a recital of what has\nactually occurred, as related to me by an interested witness of the\nentire work from its beginning to its completion.\n\n\n FIRST SENSATIONS UPON ENTERING SPIRIT LIFE.\n\n\u201cLife! Hope! Immortality!\u201d How these words thrill the spirit when it\nawakens from its dream of mortal existence, and finds itself a\nconscious, active, arisen being in the natural, tangible world of souls!\nI have seen many new-comers to the spirit land, and have watched with\ninterest the various expressions of emotion sweep across their speaking\nfaces when they discovered themselves to be not dead but alive, and\nsurrounded by scenes as natural as were any they ever beheld on earth.\nSome countenances sparkle with joy at the grand revealments of immortal\nlife; others exhibit signs of amazement or disappointment; but all\nultimately learn to wear a contented, satisfied expression, as though\n(which is true) they had arrived at home.\n\nWhat is more beautiful to the tired, sorrowing, pain-worn spirit than\nthe sight of a peaceful, happy, comfortable home waiting to give him\nwelcome? And over here in the Summer-land are real, true homes where\nlove is to be found, where peace abides, and where a bright measure of\ncontentment is held out to the weary and sad. I have seen something of\nthe stopping-places of crude-minded, undeveloped spirits; I have\nwitnessed their surroundings and unpleasant conditions. I have also\nvisited the homes of the pure and good denizens of the spheres, have\nbeheld the beautiful emanations from their lives, have noted their work\nand perceived the noble, uplifting influence they have sent forth; and I\nunhesitatingly declare that the good far outnumber the evil and\nimpure,\u2014that thousands of spirits are seeking to comfort, soothe and\nbless others where tens endeavor to injure and debase their fellows.\n\nThousands of spirits make the homes of the eternal world beautiful and\nsweet. Love seems to be unconfined and free in its expression \u201cOver\nThere.\u201d Flowing forth spontaneously from the heart, it reaches all\nkindred souls, and enriches the lives of the giver and recipient alike.\nHow often I have seen a spirit doing something that will please and\ngratify another. How frequently I have heard the remark: \u201cI will do this\nbecause my friend will like it.\u201d Thoughtful for the comfort and pleasure\nof others, good spirits have no opportunity, time, or desire for selfish\npurposes. Very often the work performed or planned is for the comfort\nand gratification of some dear one in the flesh, who at the time has no\nidea that loved and loving angels are laboring in practical ways for\ntheir advancement.\n\n\n THE ULTIMATE REIGN OF PEACE AND HAPPINESS ON EARTH.\n\nThere is, in my opinion, every hope for the race. Humanity will and must\nadvance, for thousands, aye, millions, of ascended loved ones are\nlaboring for the benefit of mankind. When I travel from point to point\nwith the rapidity of spiritual flight, and behold everywhere I go\u2014in\neach town, city, and encampment that I traverse\u2014multitudes of angelic\nbeings dwelling in homes of love, all united and happy, each one\ndevoting his or her thought, energy, and time to the labor of devising\nand executing ways, plans, and means for the blessing and elevation of\ntheir fellow-beings, I am led to rejoice in the certainty that some\ntime, and perhaps before many years,\u2014for humanity is rapidly advancing\nin knowledge, scientific lore, and wisdom,\u2014the condition of mankind will\nbe one of happiness, peace, and true prosperity.\n\nAs the brilliant sun and the shining stars are above and far outnumber\nthe clouds of earth\u2019s atmosphere, so the radiant, glowing forms and\nhomes of bright, exalted spirits are above and far outnumber the lower,\nundeveloped beings whose habitations are crude, dark, and dreary; and\nthough the influence of those crude-minded spirits is exerted upon and\nfelt by many of the inhabitants of earth, even as the clouds and shadows\nof the skies produce their effect upon material life, yet as the\nglorious light of heaven dispels all darkness and gloom, so will the\nabiding influence of higher, purer lives ultimately banish and\ncounteract the effects of that baneful miasma that emanates from the\nlower spheres. As coldness is turned to warmth and darkness becomes\nlight, under the rays of the sun, so evil is turned to goodness and all\nerror becomes swallowed up in divine truth, under the inspiring\ninfluence of heavenly love, that endureth forever.\n\nTherefore, I feel that the future weal of humanity is assured, and all\nthat each one of us has to do is to follow the highest dictates of right\nour soul can conceive of, and to feel that the angel world, with its\npower and might, is working for the cause of Truth and Justice, and is\nlaboring steadfastly and earnestly for the elevation of Mankind.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n SANITARIUMS IN SPIRIT LIFE.\n\n\nI think it will be interesting to you to learn something of the\nsanitariums of spirit life, where the grown people\u2014those who while in\nthe body were weak and struggling in spirit, whose natures were but\npartially unfolded, whose higher qualities of being were stunted or\nwarped in growth, and who, through lack of opportunity, power, and\nfavorable conditions generally were unable to grow in grace, beauty, and\nsweetness of spirit\u2014gain health, strength, vigor, and power. Those\nunfortunate ones who, from whatever cause, are unable during their\nsojourn on earth to put forth the purest attributes of the soul, to\nbecome mentally strong and fearless, to rise above the temptations of\nmortal life, to resist the evil thoughts which assail them, or who fail\nin any manner to grow in goodness and wisdom, are spiritually sick, and\nin need of tender and judicious treatment.\n\nIn the spiritual world there are sanitariums for such as these, and when\nthe spirit, weak and feeble, exhibits a desire to become strong and\nhealthy, and to be placed under conditions that will afford the means of\ngrowth, unfoldment, and of gaining power, he or she may be conducted to\none of these beautiful places, where only life, health, enjoyment,\nmental vigor, and happiness can be obtained.\n\n\n LOCALITIES AND CHARACTERISTICS.\n\nOur places where health is sought and found are not great gloomy\nbuildings where dozens of individuals live, where perhaps no two of them\nare alike in temperament, constitution, and habits, but where all must\nundergo the same amount and quality of discipline and treatment; but\nthey are large gardens, beautifully laid out with beds of flowers, banks\nof moss, pebbly walks, and groves of trees, where birds sing and\nsparkling waters leap and play; where the glad sunshine is felt by all,\nand where life is untrammeled, free and happy; or in shady woods where\nnature invites man to partake of the quiet, calm, and tranquility of her\nforest nooks. And I know of such bright homes of rest, where the\nsparkling sea surges and beats upon shining sands, and others that are\nbuilt upon the mountain sides, where the atmosphere is strong, clear,\nand bracing. The houses are small, light, and airy, furnished with\ndeference to taste as well as utility; they are at short distances from\neach other and separated by garden plots of flowers, groves of trees,\netc., as the particular section of country decides. Only one weak,\nenfeebled, diseased spirit dwells in each house at a time, but he or she\nis an inmate of a home where two or more healthy, happy, industrious\nspirits reside; these vigorous ones are the attendants and teachers of\nthe patient, and their presence, care, and example impart strength,\nhealth, and happiness to the one under their charge, while at the same\ntime he or she is learning those lessons of life of which they were\ndeprived while on the earth, but which are requisite to the upbuilding\nand outrounding of every intelligent, progressive soul.\n\n\n METHODS OF TREATMENT.\n\nThe natural scenery of these places enters largely into the system of\ntreatment as an active agent, and exerts a powerful influence upon the\nweak and suffering spirit. For instance, the soul that is irritable,\npeevish, dissatisfied with itself, requires a soothing, calm, and gentle\ninfluence. She is brought to one of the great garden sanitariums, and\ntaken in charge by a family of tender, sympathetic beings, who delight\nto care for her. The harmonious influence of her new home, the sight of\nblooming flowers, waving trees, and rippling waters, the sound of gentle\nhuman voices, of singing birds, and of the soothing, elevating,\nenchanting music which her kind attendants evoke from their melodious\ninstruments for her, produce a tranquilizing effect upon her entire\nbeing, and she gradually grows restful, contented, and at peace, thus\nbringing her highest nature into proper condition for its unfoldment in\nspiritual power, and its advancement in the acquirement of knowledge.\nFruits form the staple of her diet, and thus removed from all that is\ncoarse of the earth, earthly, crude, and sensual, her spirit grows in\nstrength and beauty, until she, too, becomes permeated with true\nvitality, becomes perfectly healthy, and is ready to take upon herself\nthe duties of a teacher, nurse, and physician, and to attend some poor\nsoul that is ill.\n\nAnother patient may require the healthful atmosphere and the partial\nsolitude of some forest glen; if so, such a home, with loving\nattendants, pleasing surroundings, and delicate nourishment is provided\nfor her. Another is drooping, easily discouraged, cannot resist any\ncondition that at the time presses upon him, easily becomes a prey to\nthe positive encroachment of temptation. He is taken to a pleasant home\nby the sea shore, where the sight of the great blue waves rushing in\ntoward the land, or flowing out to the further side, and the sound of\nsurging billows and singing winds, stimulates him with new strength,\ncourage, and vigorous endeavor to grow upward from an unhealthy,\ndarkened condition. He, too, has spirit guardians and teachers, whose\nduty it is to arouse within him that interior self-reliance that enables\nthe soul to conquer all difficulties and to rise above all obstacles\nthat are to be encountered. In his home, and in every home provided for\nthe weak and suffering, and all around them, are to be found only the\nmost beautiful works of nature and of art. Only those sights and sounds\nthat appeal to the highest, loftiest nature of man, are to be seen and\nheard therein; and thus conditions are afforded that enable strength,\nhealth, mental vigor and spiritual power to supersede and eradicate ill\nhealth, mental paucity, moral weakness, and sensual proclivities.\n\n\n MUSIC AS A MEANS OF RECUPERATION.\n\nThe cultivation of the human voice in singing is one of the means of\nadvancement for the spirit. It is also very effective in its results in\nthe sanitariums of spirit life, producing a marvelous effect upon the\nweary and feeble ones. Music and singing are employed as curative agents\nin the treatment of diseased or enfeebled souls, and with marked\nresults. You will find that every lover of good music and singing can at\ntimes become receptive to angelic influence. It is a sacred work in the\nhigher life to awaken this love of music in the minds of the afflicted\nones; for this once accomplished, the higher influences can impart their\nmagnetism to those in distress. Hence, many of our greatest musicians\nand sweetest singers may at times be found in the home of some invalid\nspirit, exercising his or her divine gifts with rare power for the\nespecial benefit of the ailing one. Music, so elevating, cheering,\nsoul-inspiring in power, lifts the spirit above the conditions that\nfavor ill health into an atmosphere where only vigor and mental vitality\nabound.\n\n\n RESTORATION OF THE MENTALLY DISEASED.\n\nWe have homes where those spirits who were considered insane in the body\nmay find rest, repose, and strength. Having been unable to express\nthemselves understandingly or to manifest their desires clearly through\nthe poor, unbalanced brains which belonged to their earthly forms, their\nspirits are weak, feeble, not unfolded, and they require that treatment\nwhich will restore tone, power, and energy to their wasted forces. And\nso homes, guides, teachers, and every attention are provided for them.\nFlowers, birds, music, and kind faces surround them. They are not\nrestricted nor confined, but are allowed liberty, though under the\ncareful, yet tender, surveillance of their friends. No medicine but\nsunshine and air is given them; no unkind treatment is resorted to. In\nthe pure and genial atmosphere of their spirit homes, and under the\ngentle influence of their surroundings, they gain a perfect mental\nequipoise, become strong in spirit and attain a knowledge of life in all\nits various grades and departments of unfoldment.\n\nThus need no one of earth, who has friends weak and suffering in body or\nmind, or who are undeveloped in spiritual health, strength, and power,\nfear that these unpleasant conditions will long continue with them after\nthey have passed from the mortal.\n\nThe tendency of human life is upward and on; the spirit world affords\nconditions and opportunities, facilities and advantages, for its growth\nand progress. No soul can advance in wisdom and happiness that is weak\nand enfeebled from any cause whatever; therefore, the first work to be\ndone is to remove the weakness and misery by subduing them with strength\nand power and friends and homes; and all that is requisite for the\nupbuilding of a beautiful spirit is provided for the unhappy one.\n\nNo prison cells, no hospital wards, no massive walls where the mentally\ndiseased languish in pain, are to be found in the spirit world; but as\nGod\u2019s sunshine, and air, his flowers and singing birds, are free to all,\nthey are there provided for the welfare and pleasure of any and every\nsoul, and have proved to be the means of restoring to life, health, and\nhappiness many poor, pain-stricken, suffering human beings.\n\nMy experiences in the spirit world have taught me that all crime, all\nunkindness of feeling, all selfishness, all misery of men, are diseases\nwhich need to be eradicated from the human system, and if they cannot\nbecome obliterated here, the time will surely come in the spiritual\nworld when they will be eliminated.\n\nThese unpleasant and unfortunate conditions of which I write are the\ncorrespondence of the physical ailments with which man is assailed, and\nI believe the time will come when they will be recognized by mortals as\ndiseases, and proper measures taken to repress and overcome them.\n\n\n IMPROVED MEDICAL TREATMENT ON EARTH.\n\nAs all things have their origin in the spiritual, and as ideas of\npractical import are given to mortals through and from the silent yet\npotential inspiration of the spirit, I believe the time will come when\nindividuals on earth will be impressed and imbued with ideas of medical\ntreatment, and the establishing of sanitariums similar to those which\nalready exist in the beyond, when the public mind will become exercised\non the subject of the proper treatment and care of the sick and\nsuffering of both body and spirit, and when a new thought will be\nagitated concerning its duty toward the morally weak and low. Then your\nhospitals will not be huge edifices, but small habitations with only one\ninvalid in each, so that no impure and unhealthy magnetism from another\ndiseased body shall be absorbed by its occupant. Light, air, water,\nmusic, and flowers will take the place of drugs and powders, and\ncheerful, ready attendance be freely given. So with your homes of\nrefuge, your places of confinement for criminals; those now of walls of\nstone will give way to light and airy dwellings, gardens of beauty will\nsurround them; music and flowers, books and papers, congenial, active\nemployment, and the cheerful companionship of healthy, kind-hearted\nteachers, will supersede whip and thong, and supply to the mental nature\nthat bracing tone so much required, and under your present system of\ndiscipline, so seldom obtained, these will awaken retrospection in the\nmind of the diseased, and bring a desire for amendment, thus beginning\nthat radical cure which will in time be firmly established in every\nsin-sick soul.\n\n\n ONE OF THE SANITARIUMS OF SPIRIT LIFE.\n\nI will tell you of a beautiful scene I have recently witnessed in one of\nthe sanitariums of spirit life. Picture to yourselves an immense garden,\nspread with a closely-cropped carpet of the freshest, greenest, and most\nvelvety grass you can conceive adorned with parterres of fragrant,\nbright-colored flowers. The trees are tall, stately, and graceful, and\ntheir foliage glistens as though sprinkled with dew; rippling streams of\nwater make rhythmic music pleasant to the ear. The sky is cloudless, and\nthe sun shines mildly down upon the placid scene. The atmosphere is of a\npeculiar golden tint that clothes every object in a mantle of beauty.\nBirds with musical throats and bright plumage flit from flower to flower\nundisturbed by those human beings who are walking the grounds, or seated\nin various parts of the garden. Small, white, cosey-looking dwellings,\nsimple and neat, are scattered here and there, while in the center of\nthis immense park a stately, white temple uprears its shining dome.\n\nThis place is a sanitarium or home where weary women, as well as\nneglected children, from the earth sphere are brought to receive\nprotection, care, and instruction from the pure mother souls who abide\nin this lovely spot.\n\nThe teachers and nurses of this glowing plane are of a truly\n_spirituelle_ character; their lives are spent in seeking to guide,\ninfluence, and encourage unfortunate spirits to find a higher and better\nlife than that they have hitherto known, and in endeavors for\nself-improvement.\n\nHere teachers and preceptors are educated and directed through a course\nof experience that will prepare them to guide and guard those young\nsouls who come to the spirit world with no natural guardian or parent to\ncare for them. Love is the ruling power in this community, and no\nunkind, unsympathetic thought finds its way hither.\n\n\n INTERESTING INCIDENT: A MOTHER FINDS HER CHILD.\n\nBut the incident which I propose to relate to you was so beautiful I\nfeel that I must tell you of it now while it is fresh in my mind: a\nbeautiful young female spirit, a true teacher, a natural mother-soul,\nwhose entire being is illuminated with the light of benevolence and\nlove, had brought to her charming little cottage in the delightful\ngarden a young child, one who had recently passed to the higher life,\nwith no kind hand to close its mortal eyes or to drop tender caresses\nupon the marble brow,\u2014one of the waifs of society, cast out by mankind,\nand permitted to ignobly perish from the earth.\n\nThis child was brought to the bright Summer-land, and tenderly cared for\nby guardian angels; all the good within its nature was encouraged to\nunfold and blossom out; all the attributes of ill, the conditions of\ncarnal life transmitted to it by others, were fading for want of\nnourishment and attention.\n\nThe work of cultivating and beautifying an immortal soul, as was this\nlittle one, under the direction of a sweet, self-denying, loving spirit,\nis delightful to contemplate; but the most thrilling incident in this\nspecial instance, and one which came under my immediate observation, was\nthis:\u2014\n\nOne day there came to this garden of delight a poor, sin-stained, weary\nwoman,\u2014one who, through all the misery heaped upon her by the conditions\nof vice and crime, still kept the love-light for her child burning in\nher soul. She had been an inhabitant of the spirit world three years,\nbut, because of the crudities of physical conditions still clinging to\nher spirit, had been held down to the earthly sphere.\n\nNow, she had been found by a benevolent spirit, and conducted to the\nblooming paradise of which I write. Sad, disheartened, despairing,\nnothing could rouse her from her condition of unhappiness. The tender\nencouragements of benevolent beings, the beautiful objects and sweet\nsounds around her, the gentle ministrations of kindly spirits, seemed to\nhave no effect upon her state of apathy. At last it was suggested that\nshe be taken to the grove, where the children were busy with their\ninnocent sports; and accordingly the unfortunate woman was conducted to\na green and shady spot where a company of little spirits, under the care\nof their teachers and guides, were engaged in pleasant pursuits.\n\nThe eyes of the unhappy spirit for the first time lighted up with a\ngleam of pleasure as they fell upon the children, and her conductor\nnoted the sign with a joyous heart. Suddenly the woman screamed, sprang\nforward, and clasped one of the little ones to her breast. It was the\nlittle waif who not long since had been brought hither. \u201cMy child! my\nchild! my darling child!\u201d exclaimed the spirit, as tears of joy rained\ndown her pallid face, \u201chave I found you at last! have I found you!\u201d\n\nIt was a scene to make angels weep, and tears of sympathy stood in the\neyes of more than one of that celestial company. It transpired that the\npoor, suffering woman was the mother of that little child; that, at the\ntime the child had attained the age of three years, the mother met with\nan accident that hurled her spirit from the body, and from that time to\nthe present moment she had been roaming in darkness, seeking for the\nchild she had lost.\n\nThe little one was allowed to accompany her teacher and her new-found\nmother to a pleasant, quiet retreat where, under the spell of her\ndarling\u2019s presence, and the kindly care of ministering attendants, her\nspirit is rapidly arising above the clouds of sorrow, degradation and\nwoe, and emerging into the light of happiness and peace,\u2014is unfolding\nits higher powers to such a degree that we feel certain, in a very\nlittle while, she will herself become a helper, teacher, and beneficent\nspirit to those who travel in darkness and woe.\n\nThe beautiful white temple that uprears its shining dome in the center\nof that delightful garden of which I have spoken is a massive structure,\nelegant in appearance, and marvelous in construction. No description of\nmine could do it justice; it must be seen in order to receive all the\nadmiration which it merits. Dedicated to the Arts, it is itself a\nmaster-piece of art, and stands a fitting testimonial to the wonderful\ndesign and skill of the artists who planned and executed it in all its\ndetails. The material of which this pile is composed is like alabaster,\nsnowy white, but so nearly transparent that, when the sun\u2019s rays strike\ndirectly upon it, it glows with all the colors of the rainbow, and\npresents a brilliant appearance. Delicate carvings of vines and flowers,\nbirds and insects, are traced upon its corner walls, showing evidences\nof the work of a master-hand. Within are spacious halls dedicated to the\nMuses, each of which is used as an instruction hall, where knowledge of\nthe particular art to which it is consecrated is imparted and received.\nThe halls of Music, of Painting, of Sculpture, of Poesy, of designing\nand tracing, are to be found here, presided over by master-artists, who\npay especial attention to their pupils, believing that it is better to\ninspire or to assist in cultivating the powers of another than to create\nany piece of artistic work themselves.\n\n\n CULTIVATION OF INHERENT TALENTS.\n\nTo this temple are brought the children, in order to ascertain whether\nor not they have any taste, talent, or genius for practicing any of the\nfine arts. Here, where all is beautiful, whether of sight or sound,\nappealing alike to the harmonious instinct and the love of the beautiful\nwithin the soul, any especial gift that the child may have in the\ndirection of music, poesy, etc., speedily shows itself, and he or she is\ntaken in charge by some competent teacher who bends all his or her\nenergies in the direction of drawing out or unfolding the talents of the\npupil. A child who manifests a passion for music, but takes no interest\nin drawing or painting, is allowed to devote his time to the cultivation\nof his musical powers, and is not required to waste energy and patience\nover the vain task of trying to learn the rules of perspective, light\nand shade, and coloring. One who exhibits a taste for carving and\nmolding, but cares little for music, is not obliged to throw away time\nover the distasteful labor of practicing with voice and instrument, but\nis assisted to unfold the natural powers of his soul. Another is\nattracted to painting, but has no desire to attempt to carve a statue;\nanother is exercised over the rhymes and metric measures of poetry, but\nhas no gift in the other departments of art. These are encouraged and\ntaught how to develop their God-given powers, and are not requested to\nattempt any labor for which they have no taste. Children who are found\nto exhibit no taste for, or attraction toward, any of the arts, but to\nhave a gift for the outworking of and desire to study other branches of\nknowledge, are permitted to follow the guidance of their tastes or\ndeeper natures, and are not expected to spend time over the study of\nthose artistic rules for which they have no attraction.\n\nTherefore, you will at once perceive that the work of each spirit is\nthat for which they are naturally adapted; it becomes congenial to them,\nconsequently is agreeable. They love to pursue it, and bring forth the\nbest possible results from it.\n\nThere are many temples of art in the spirit world, as there are many\nschools, academies, colleges of learning, etc. Education is the great\npower that is to uplift and bless humanity, and in the higher life the\nbest forms of enlightenment are afforded freely unto all. The beautiful\nwhite temple in the great garden, where the neglected, cast-off children\nfrom earth are taken to be cared for, opens its glowing portals to those\nlittle ones who, had they remained in the bodily form, would have had no\nadvantages of education or for spiritual unfoldment. Many of these\nexhibit a marked inclination toward the development of artistic powers,\nand under the favorable conditions afforded them begin early to show\nsigns of talent to an astonishing degree.\n\nEncouraged to learn, stimulated to emulation by advice, example, and\nassistance, they readily follow the teachings of their instructors, and\nin a surprisingly brief space of time\u2014considering all the circumstances\nof their early life\u2014their efforts to accomplish something are crowned\nwith success. Thus, under proper conditions, all the spiritual\nattributes and faculties of an immortal soul may become unfolded,\ndisplaying a degree of refinement, beauty, culture, and power of which\nhumanity at present but little dreams.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n SURROUNDINGS AND CONDITIONS OF SPIRITS.\n\n\nMortals sometimes wonder if there is cold and frost, snow and ice, in\nthe spirit world; and spirits, in making their statements concerning the\nsurroundings and conditions in that land, do so according to their own\nexperience, which is sometimes greatly varied and diversified. Speaking\nfor myself, I have never witnessed any severe storm, nor been affected\nby either extreme of cold or heat, since passing to the \u201cother life.\u201d\nThe atmosphere in which I dwell is mild and genial, rather of an\nexhilarating than of a depressing nature, because of the preponderance\nof the electrical current. While inhaling the air of my spirit home I\nalways feel strong and full of vitality. Work is there like play, so\neasily is it taken up and pursued, and the mere act of breathing is an\nexquisite pleasure. Life is full of gladness, because no external\ncondition presses heavily upon the bodily frame. Our clothing is adapted\nto the wants and purposes of the body; our food assimilates with the\nsystem, and provides nutriment for every part. And so, being blest with\ngood health, pleasant surroundings, and an abundance of labor, we cannot\nbe otherwise than cheerful and happy. Where I reside, we are never\nvisited by storm and tempest; the face of nature is daily bathed in a\nsoft, delicious mist that descends from the snowy clouds above,\nmoistening the trees and flowers and wrapping everything in a\nsemi-transparent veil through which the rosy light of day glows with a\nbewitching hue. This mist only remains long enough to give the world\naround a plenteous bath, and then disappears before the presence of the\never-genial yet to us never too-fervid sun.\n\n\n REASONS FOR DIFFERENT VIEWS OF SPIRIT SURROUNDINGS.\n\nI have visited other localities of the spirit world, whose inhabitants\nhave complained of intense cold; and though I was not affected by any\nuncomfortable sensation, yet I have seen them shiver and shake as though\nsmitten by an ague fit. The landscape to these unhappy ones appeared to\nbe cold, lifeless, and barren, as though the dreariness of December days\nhad settled upon it; but to me the scene was more promising and\nlife-like, for I was not surrounded by the same conditions of mind and\nbody as were those who dwelt in these haunts of woe.\n\nI have known certain spirits to manifest themselves to mortals with the\ndeclaration that their homes in the spirit world had been visited by\nterrible storms and whirlwinds, and that the shock of those tempests had\nbeen almost too much for them to endure. This was very true; but those\nspirits did not realize or know that they had never entered the\nspiritual world, but that, through the earthly nature of their own\nmagnetic attraction, they had gravitated to some condition of earthly\nlife,\u2014had attached themselves to crude-minded spirits yet in the flesh,\nand had encountered earthly storms and whirlwinds that had swept wildly\nover the terrestrial world.\n\nOther spirits have testified to mortals that their homes are dark,\ndreary, rugged, and bleak. Such beings dwell very near the physical\nlife. They have never explored the realms of spirit; their desires are\nall of a carnal character; the very persons who attract them to their\nearthly haunts are of a rough, uncouth, and undeveloped nature.\nTherefore, they come in contact with no refinement, no culture, and no\nbeauty; their lives are barren indeed, and not until they desire to\nreceive, understand, and acknowledge the truths that missionary spirits\nare ready to reveal to their comprehension will they emerge from their\nunhappy condition. \u201cNone are so blind as those who will not see;\u201d and\nthe arrogant, self-sufficient, and self-opinionated spirit prefers to\nwander in darkness, and to stumble on over a rough and thorny road,\nrather than to acknowledge his short-sightedness and admit a desire to\nbe guided aright. Only suffering, keen and severe, will bring to such\nthe experience required to produce a better and sweeter nature.\n\nBeautiful homes, lovely associations, and the fondest and most endearing\nof ties, all of which will be found to be real, tangible, and enduring,\nawait every spirit in the supernal world; yet those who are not\naspirational in character, who are not ready to spurn the selfish\npropensities that belong to the animal nature, to lay aside all\nconsiderations of personal grandeur, glory, and aggrandizement, will not\nbe able to perceive, appreciate, or enjoy those \u201chomes not made with\nhands, eternal in the heavens.\u201d\n\nOh, how earnestly we should all strive to cultivate a pure, noble, and\nunselfish character! How we should endeavor to uplift, guide, and\ninstruct the poor, benighted spirits who know not the true meaning of\nexistence! Those of you, O mortals, who have opened your hearts and\nhomes to the presence of spirits, who devote a part of your time to the\ngood work of receiving the poor, ignorant, and uncultured who come to\nyou through mediumistic sources, are performing a grand mission in life;\nyou are co-operating with exalted intelligences in accomplishing a noble\nwork.\n\nSpeak not harshly to the erring, either of mortal or spirit life. Let\nyour words be full of kindness, admonition, and instruction, and let\nyour lives be living examples of the love and truth you expound. Thus\nyou will accomplish a great and lasting good for the benefit of others\nand the glory of the angel world.\n\nA word of kindness, a gentle clasp of the hand, the gift of a single\nflower tendered to an erring spirit, accompanied by a little\ninstructive, loving advice, may be the means of setting a benighted soul\nforward upon the upward road which leadeth to light and joy, and peace\neverlasting. This is a work that all may do; let us, spirits and\nmortals, co-operate to the grand end of elevating the lowly.\n\n\n EARTHLY CONDITIONS THAT RETARD SPIRITUAL PROGRESS.\n\nI have seen spirits whose earthly condition was one of prosperity and\ngrandeur,\u2014those in whom a sense of worldly ambition and aggrandizement\novercame every other consideration in their minds; whose hearts became\nhaughty and arrogant; whose lives grew morbidly selfish beneath the\ndesire for personal gratification and the greed of gain. Primarily,\ntheir motives for action were laudable; but as they grew in worldly\ninfluence, power, and grandeur, the stifling atmosphere of this\ncondition effectually pressed out all emotions and aspirations higher\nthan those for earthly affluence, authority, and ambition.\n\nI find the conditions of such spirits to be most unattractive yet\npitiable. Deprived of their power and influence, unable to wield that\nauthority which once belonged to them, powerless to attract the homage\nand laudation of the world in which they formerly lived and moved,\nlonging for the things of material life which they cannot grasp with\nsatisfaction, unfamiliar with things, conditions, and customs of\nspiritual life, they are restless and unhappy indeed.\n\nThe things for which these beings crave belong to the material plane\nalone, and they are constantly attracted back to this sphere of life.\nBut they have not the authority and power they once possessed. Coming in\ncontact with the very individuals who once fawned upon and bowed down to\nthem, these spirits are yet unable to make any impression upon their\nminds. The invisible ones speak what they believe to be loud words of\nauthority and dignity; but they are unheeded, even unheard, by the\nmortal to whom they are addressed. Even should the spirits succeed in\nexpressing their identity and in giving utterance to their thoughts\nthrough the lips of a trance medium, they will remain as unnoticed by\nthose for whom they are intended as is the faint flutterings of a\nleaflet blown hither and thither by the autumn wind, even if they are\nnot scoffed at or scorned by those individuals who once were wont to bow\ndown in servile awe before a scrap of paper bearing the name that is\ngiven by the returning spirit. Imagine the unhappy, restless condition\nof such a spirit, and you will understand something of that peculiar,\nself-tormenting state which in former times was typified to mankind as a\nlake of fire and brimstone.\n\n\n WORLDLY SUCCESS OFTEN A MISFORTUNE.\n\nPicture to yourselves a man who has been full of energy and power,\nsuccessful in every undertaking, prosperous in business, influential in\nhis walks of life,\u2014one recognized for great executive ability and\ndispatch, bowed down and even toadied to by a multitude; one having a\nlarge class of human beings in his employ and under his dominion, to\nwhom he is the autocrat upon all questions pertaining to their comfort,\neven existence itself. The note of this individual is recognized and\naccepted on all sides; his lightest word is law, and he has only to\nspeak to be immediately obeyed.\n\nA man wielding such authority, and delighting in it, is always ambitious\nand arrogant; he is held in fear by those under his charge, who endeavor\nto cajole him into some degree of mercy even while secretly despising\nhim. This power, grandeur, prosperity, and worldly influence has been\ngained by the potency of a domineering, masterful will; but at the\nexpense of the interior nature, which is stripped of all adornments and\nbarren of those fruitful conditions necessary to the happiness and peace\nof spirits.\n\nSuch a man passes from the body. With the temple of clay he is shorn of\nall his power, grandeur, influence, and wealth; for such as he had were\nof the earth, temporal in their character and perishable. But the\nqualities of his mind are still his; the energy of his nature has not\ndeparted, the positive will-force does not desert him; he remains\nambitious still. He does not become an imbecile or an idiot, therefore\nhe is capable of realizing all that he has lost; but he has not yet\nlearned that those things were unworthy an immortal soul, and that there\nis something of inestimable value to the spirit that may yet be\nacquired. He is in the condition that a strong, passionate man on earth\nwould be in who had lost all that was dearest to him. At times, he is\nviolent in the expression of his emotions, again he sinks into the\napathy of despair; frequently he returns to earth, seeking to command\nattention, and to force obedience to his behests, and occasionally he\nendeavors to burst asunder the conditions that surround him.\n\nAsk such a spirit as this of the beauties of the immortal life, and he\nwill declare there are none,\u2014that nature there is sterile and barren,\nthat only damp clouds and fogs are to be seen, that rugged rocks and\nstones compose the roads, that the dwellings are uncomfortable and\nconfining, and that the inhabitants are uncongenial and inhospitable.\nThe truth is, this person is so enwrapped in the murky atmosphere of his\nown being, so chilled by the restless, combatant elements of his own\nmind, so torn by conflicting emotions, that he cannot see beyond the\nshadowy outline of his own selfish nature; and whatever object or person\ncomes into the line of his vision becomes colored or darkened by the\ngreyness of his own life, and presents an appearance corresponding to\nthe conditions by which he is confined.\n\n\n EARTHLY CONDITIONS CONTINUED IN SPIRIT LIFE.\n\nThere are many such beings in that immortal life\u2014men and women\u2014who have\nnot yet outgrown the conditions belonging to the physical existence. The\nintensity of the will-force with these persons is so powerful when\napplied in any direction that it is difficult to detach it from the\nobject in view, and to direct it to and through other channels of\nexpression. Hence the positive, ambitious, energetic man of the world,\nwho pursues his own business and pleasure, regardless of the rights and\nprivileges of others, remains the same grasping, exacting individual\nafter passing out of the body. Men and women, once of fashion and\nwealth, autocratic and haughty in their demeanor,\u2014some of them rulers\nand sovereigns over multitudes,\u2014have remained in a sphere of unhappiness\nfor many years. Wrapping the pride of their selfishness around them,\nthey have dwelt in a condition of cold and darkness, the chill and\nshadows of which were but emanations from their own lives, until at last\nthey have grown weary and have stretched their hands upward in search of\nlight and warmth.\n\nFinally, when such individuals do feel the necessity of turning from the\nold life,\u2014which necessity comes to them after a long siege of battling\nagainst opposing forces, vainly striving to be recognized and obeyed,\nmaking futile attempts to gain power and dominion over others, and _at\nlast_ obliged to recognize their own impotency and utter\nlittleness,\u2014they begin to perceive the grandeur of spiritual labor, and\nto acknowledge and respond to the efforts made by ministering,\nindustrious spirits to teach and bless them. Thoughts of the old life on\nearth fade before the presentation of ideas concerning the future life\nto be attained by the spirit. Selfish propensities and desires gradually\npale before the new light of soul endeavor that dawns upon the suffering\nspirits; and sometimes aided by sympathetic mortals, to whom they are\nattracted, and always benefited by the assistance of wise, loving, and\ntruthful spirits, these erring ones gradually emerge from their unhappy\nstate into a condition of peace and joy. Ask them _then_ of the life in\nthe spirit world, and they will pronounce it beautiful, illuminated with\na glorious light that never becomes wholly quenched; the land they\ninhabit they will tell you is real and natural, its roads paved with\nshining blocks, smooth and even to the feet, and fringed with blooming\nflowers; its homes comfortable, elegant, and commodious, and its\ninhabitants harmonious, gentle, hospitable, and friendly. They now see\nwith the clear vision of the soul; no mists obscure their sight, no\npreconceived opinions and prejudices bias their statements. They dwell\nin the spirit world, and not amid the murky confines of sensual life.\n\n\n AN ILLUSTRATION.\n\nI will briefly relate a little episode recently coming under my\nobservation, which will illustrate my subject more clearly to you. My\nbeloved father was recently in the presence of a spiritual medium,\u2014a\nlovely, saint-like, elderly woman, whose life and aspirations cannot\nfail to attract beneficent workers of both lives to her sphere. This\nmedium was entranced by a spirit who appeared very much distressed, and\nwho said that there was a gulf between him and a condition of happy\npeace that he could not bridge. After bemoaning his unpleasant position,\nhe expressed an earnest desire to free himself from it. My father felt\nhis entire soul going out in sympathy to this suffering fellow-being,\nand with words of encouragement, hope, and cheer, which were also\nreplete with instruction, he addressed the spirit, who, in a little\nwhile, raised his head, and with an expression of gladness and triumph,\nexclaimed: \u201cI see the bridge; I may now pass over safely.\u201d\n\nAfter this spirit had departed, my father was addressed by one of our\nbeneficent, working spirits, who explained that the unhappy being was\nnone other than he who had been known to the world as Baron\nRothschild,\u2014that in early life he had concentrated his energy and power\nto the work of accumulating great wealth for a laudable purpose, that of\nexpending it in restoring Jerusalem\u2014the home of his race\u2014to its pristine\nglory and splendor for the benefit of his unhappy people; but as wealth\nand power and glory rolled in upon him, ambition grew within his soul.\nFinding himself exalted because of his influence, bowed down to and\nfawned upon by the Gentiles who had despised his race, the desire grew\nupon him to wield an influence among mankind that no power could break;\nand the primal intention to bless his people by restoring them to their\nrightful home, if he should be successful in life, faded away before the\ngrowing determination to bring the haughty Gentile to his feet in\nsupplication for his assistance in the control of the monetary interests\nof the world.\n\nThus this man lived, flourished, and died; but in passing to the spirit\nworld he could take none of his grandeur, power, wealth, or influence\nwith him. These were not of the spiritual, but belonged to the material\nlife. Unhappy and restless, expending his energy in striving to regain\nhis former prestige, he lived, until, growing weary of vain contention\nand striving, he turned from the earthly side to ascertain the prospect\ntoward the spiritual. He could perceive the light and the homes of happy\nspirits, but knew not how to reach them. In this condition he was\nbrought by wise spirits to my father, whose tender sympathy, perceived\nand felt by the unfortunate one, awakened a new condition of mind,\naroused a new train of thought and aspiration in his soul, which bridged\nover the chasm and gave him power to reach the happier state where\ncontented, useful beings dwell.\n\nOh, the power of sympathy! Mortals, you understand it not! When truly\nfelt and expressed, it flows toward the soul of its recipient in waves\nof light, which become tangible to the suffering one, and form a bridge\nover which he may pass to a condition of happiness and peace.\n\n\n EXTERNAL SURROUNDINGS PRODUCED BY MENTAL CONDITIONS.\n\nTo those minds who are materialistic in their tendency, whose thought is\nconcerned with the affairs of the mundane sphere, and who do not\nrecognize any other force in existence so potent, powerful, and vigorous\nin its operations as mere organic law which depends upon matter alone\nfor its power, the idea that the mental condition of an individual can\nbecome so active as to influence his external surroundings and determine\nthe shape, form, appearance, and character of the objective life in\nwhich he dwells, will be presented as only the wild dream of some\nvisionist, or the vapid speculation of an enthusiast. But I do not bring\nmy statements of spirit life and its conditions to the notice of such\nmaterial minds; for I know that they who can find nothing above and\nbeyond matter to study and investigate, who understand nothing of that\nsubtle power permeating all material life which is _pure_ spirit, who\ncannot comprehend the higher laws of the universe whenever they\ntranscend in any degree the operations of those laws that are concerned\nalone with the external, visible, mundane world, will not be able to\ngrasp the vital truth that is recognized and accepted by all deeply\nstudious and spiritualized beings,\u2014that spirit alone is the real power,\nthe substantial part of man, the abiding life that projects its image\noutward upon the exterior form, affects the condition of the individual,\nbeautifies or mars his surroundings, and controls his state of mind;\nwhile matter is but the external expression, the outer covering, form,\nor projection of this potent, governing force.\n\n\n MATERIALISTIC SCIENTISTS IN SPIRIT LIFE.\n\nI have seen spirits whose earthly condition was one of grandeur, whose\nmortal life was one of study, experimentalism, achievement, and\ntriumph,\u2014scientists who gave their entire thought, time, and attention\nto the investigation of certain laws, elements, and forces of the\nphysical world, and who made grand and important discoveries in the\ndomain of Nature. Their demonstrations of scientific law have been of\nvalue to mankind; their achievements and the practical results of their\ndiscoveries and studies have benefited humanity. But certain ones of\nthis learned body did not believe in the existence of any force or power\noutside of organic law,\u2014would not accept the thought that any\nmanifestation of human or divine intelligence, skill and wisdom, could\npossibly be made aside from matter, and declined to investigate any\ndepartment of life outside of that particular field of scientific\ninquiry that chained their attention. Anything savoring of occult law,\nor denoting the existence of subtle forces in the universe, that\nphysical science could not explain, they scoffed at as unworthy their\nthought and investigation.\n\nThe condition of such spirits as these in the spiritual world is not an\nenvious one. For a time they are unaware that they have left the\nmaterial body. Dependent upon gross matter for their thought, study,\nlabor, and research, they do not gravitate above the earth, and for\nawhile they continue their investigations and experiments in the\nlaboratories of their former earthly associates.\n\nBut the laws they pursue fail to explain to them the causes of\nexistence, or of the variation and mutability of form, the origin of\nmind, or the source of power. The facts presented before them from time\nto time cannot be reconciled with the theories they have entertained.\nImportant links in the chain of scientific evidence concerning the\nnature of things they fain would forge, as they are wanting here and\nthere. These learned (?) spirits, with all their splendid endowments of\nmental ability, erudition, and conservative thought, become restless,\ndissatisfied, and unhappy. When they discover that they are not\ndependent upon a mortal body for their existence, they are amazed, and\neven annoyed, to find their preconceived opinions and conclusions\nconcerning earthly matter refuted by the one great fact of continued\nconscious life after the dissolution of the physical form; and they do\nnot feel prepared to accept the spiritual life that opens before them.\nAsk such a being of the beauty and peace of the higher life, and he\nwould declare to you his inability to find such conditions,\u2014that to him\nall appeared confusion, disorder, fleeting, and unsubstantial. The\nreason of this is clear to a thinking mind. The spirit who has hitherto\nheld the utmost confidence in his own mental powers and ready\ndiscernment; who has believed his own position on any subject\nincontrovertible; who has thought his opinions and conclusions to be\nunquestionable, and who has been accustomed to lay down his propositions\nand theories with the secret feeling that they must demand attention and\nan early acceptance from all others, suddenly becomes aware that he has\nbeen treading on dangerous ground, that those things, ideas, and\nconclusions that he thought so weighty and undeniable are but\nfabrications of his own mind; that he has followed false lights, because\nhe has recognized but a small portion of the universe and believed it to\nbe the whole, and has understood the operations of but a few of its\nlaws, and thought they were the great network of all force and power.\n\nNo wonder that this being cannot see clearly before him; that his\nsurroundings appear chaotic and disorderly, and that the ground seems\nslipping from beneath his feet. His _mental_ condition determines the\ncharacter of his external state, and he perceives naught but the\nreflection of the conflicting emotions that surge through his being.\n\n\n THE DAWNING OF SPIRITUAL LIGHT.\n\nAfter a time the mists will cease to obscure his vision; possessing an\nintelligent mind, he will begin to reason and reflect upon this state of\nthings, and desire to reach the truth concerning them. Then he will\nperceive that, though much of the work he thought he had performed must\nbe taken up and remodeled, that many of the opinions he held were\nunsound, and the platform of theory he occupied untenable; yet he has\nobtained a sufficiency of solid fact; has discovered truth, derived\nknowledge, and accomplished labor enough to form a new foundation upon\nwhich to build a structure that will remain enduring for all time.\n\nThen the shadows will clear away; the spirit will gaze around him and\nbehold smiling order and harmonious design. The new life will present an\nappearance of peace, plenty, and thrift to his sight. He will then\ninform you that the higher life is one of beauty, happiness, and power,\nfilled with pleasant homes, contented people, and active employments.\nThe conditions belonging to the crude, undeveloped state of his being\nhave been overcome by the spiritual part, and he is now enabled to\nbehold the spirit world in its true likeness and imagery.\n\nBefore this change can take place in the surroundings and interior life\nof the spirit, he must outgrow the arrogant pride in his own powers that\nhas hitherto possessed him; he must be ready to doff the teacher\u2019s gown,\nand to don the pupil\u2019s cap,\u2014be eager to become the patient scholar, and\nto forego the pleasure of propounding his personal opinions to other\nminds; must, in brief, become a child of humility, recognize his\nshortcomings, his mistakes and failures, and be willing to repair them.\nThere is no necessity for him to lose sight of his former achievements,\nor of the good work he has wrought out for mankind; the memory of his\nlabors may be retained to inspire him on to greater exertions for the\nfuture, but not allowed to magnify itself to such proportions as to\ninfluence the mind with pride and vain-glory.\n\n\n THE LIBERAL-MINDED SCIENTIST.\n\nI have also witnessed the spiritual condition, which, in my experience,\nalways determines the surroundings of the individual in the spirit\nworld, of the man of science, or of general learning, who, when in the\nbody, was willing to consider other opinions than his own, was tolerant\nof other people, and ready to adopt any practical suggestion emanating\nfrom the mind of another, whose attitude toward spiritual things was\nrespectful, even if it were not reverential. Such a personage may find\nhimself astonished at the revelations of immortal life, but they do not\nannoy him; they rather gladden his soul, for they open before him\nopportunities for study, investigation, and spiritual growth that he has\nfelt the need of, but could not hitherto grasp their supply. He is eager\nto at once begin a new line of scholarship, and to ask the assistance of\nthose masters of science and philosophy who for ages have been acquiring\nknowledge and wisdom in the schools of the higher life. Such a spirit is\nwilling to sit at the feet of his teachers, and to follow their\ninstructions. He listens humbly to the suggestions that are made to him,\nfollows the line of argument presented, and pays attention to the\nexplanations, experiments, and researches his instructors open before\nhim. Thus he comes into sympathy with the wise ones around him, and can\nreadily comprehend their labor and its vast results.\n\nIn a little time such a spirit becomes qualified to follow his labor and\npursue his studies unaided; he grasps a comprehension of the laws that\ngovern them, and can experiment in any particular department of\nscientific inquiry he desires, certain that his researches cannot fail\nto yield him a good return. By-and-bye he will be competent to return to\nearth and seek out some organism, some mind similar in construction to\nhis own, through whom he can transmit his ideas and a knowledge of his\ndiscoveries and inventions for the benefit of struggling mortals. It may\nbe that his instrument will be unaware of the presence of a spirit\nmoving and directing him, would even scout such a thought were it\npresented before him; but such non-recognition does not lessen the\nefforts of the earnest spirit. He is bent upon expressing the results of\nhis labors, or manifesting some spiritual truth to ignorant humanity,\nand he will not falter nor be turned aside from his mission.\n\nOr, this intelligence may come in contact with some mortal who has great\nmental ability as yet undeveloped, with an embryotic genius whose gifts\nneed stimulating, whose constructive powers are grand, but have not\nbecome aroused to vigorous action. The spirit will exert his influence,\nwill concentrate his magnetic force upon such an individual; will visit\nhim in moments of quiet or in hours of bodily repose, and impress him\nwhat works to read, what line of study to pursue, what form of\nemployment to practice, what habits to cultivate, and what method of\nlife to follow; all of which will be calculated to stimulate, unfold,\nand invigorate the innate powers of his mind.\n\nGradually, the invisible, yet powerful, guide will perceive the\ndevelopment of those wonderful abilities that he knows belong to his\ncharge; he will see them throw out little tendrils and grow stronger and\nstronger; his magnetic and energizing influence operating upon that mind\nis doing for its powers what the genial sunshine and refreshing showers\ndo for the blossoms of the plant upon which they fall, drawing them out\nto a beautiful, healthful, and vigorous unfoldment; and by-and-bye the\nworld will become aware that it has a man of genius or a woman of\ntranscendent power in its midst.\n\nAt that supreme moment of achievement or triumph the delight of the\nmortal whose abilities are thus given outward expression in some\nenduring form will be nothing to the satisfaction of the intelligent\nspirit who has aided the work of development, and by his superior power\nstimulated the mental growth of his charge. Can you not comprehend what\na grand, unselfish labor his has been, and appreciate in some degree the\ndifficulties he has encountered and overcome, the blessed results he has\nachieved?\n\n\n CONTRASTED CAUSES AND EFFECTS.\n\nThe difference between a spirit of this class and the one mentioned\npreviously is simply in the condition of mind. Both were equally\nlearned, scholarly, cultivated, brilliant, and useful when in the body;\nbut where one was dogmatic in assumption, intolerant in opinion,\nautocratic in assertion, and materialistic in belief, the other was\nconsiderate of others, paid deference to the honest opinion of his\nfellows, was respectful in his attitude toward all mankind, and sought\nearnestly for the greatest measure of light to be obtained, even though\nit should lead him away from his own position and toward that of others.\n\nConsequently, the one was many years in reaching the condition and\nelevated spiritual position which the other readily found upon entering\nspirit life; and while the first was obliged to pass through painful\nexperiences before he could throw aside his lordly manner, air of\nassumption, and offensive arrogance, the latter, having none of these\nburdens clinging to his garments, was enabled immediately to take up the\nstudies of life, and pursue them to their grand revealment. Ask this\nlast intelligence as to his surroundings in heaven, and he would define\nthem as beautiful, congenial, and productive of great happiness to the\nspirit. His associates he would describe as happy, harmonious, and\nagreeable; his home as filled with luxurious adornments and beautiful\nforms; the landscape as fair, sweet, and charming, and life itself grand\nand glorious.\n\n\n THE SIMPLY INTELLECTUAL.\n\nI have seen the condition of spirits who, when inhabitants of the earth,\nwere very erudite and intellectual, but who were so closely engaged in\nthe pursuit of material knowledge that they paid no attention to the\ncultivation of their spiritual powers.\n\nThese individuals possessed splendid powers of mind, for their mental\nabilities were finely unfolded. Their powers of imagery were great, and\nmany were the word-pictures of beauty they were instrumental in placing\nbefore the public eye. But as they did not recognize the existence of\nspiritual powers, did not seek to unfold within themselves the\nattributes that belong to spirit, nor endeavor to learn of their inner\nnatures, they were not prepared to perceive and enjoy the true glories\nof the spiritual world. The condition of such beings for some time after\nthey have passed from the earthly form is one of dissatisfaction; for to\nthem the immortal life presents but cold and barren forms, destitute of\nthe glow and vigor of life-like activity. Splendid statues and fine\npictures may adorn their homes, for such forms are the expression of the\nintellectual and artistic taste of their possessors; but these objects\nlack the expression and softened effects of fine coloring and appearance\nof life that alone can make them the productions of really great minds.\nOnly mere mechanical work has created them; they are but the objective\nforms of ideas, destitute of the spirit that should have been breathed\ninto them, to make of each a model of beauty and of expressive force.\nThe homes of these learned individuals, though furnished and adorned\nwith luxurious belongings, present a cold, inhospitable appearance to\nthe truly spiritual being; for their inmates are haughty, proud,\ndissatisfied with life, and forever longing for something more in the\nline of personal grandeur than what is theirs; and their mental\ncondition reflects itself so strongly upon their exterior surroundings\nas to cause it to strike a chill to the heart of any aspirational or\ndevotional being who might approach them.\n\n\n CHEERLESSNESS OF A WANT OF SPIRITUALITY.\n\nImagine yourselves in a vast hall, from which all rays of sunlight or\nwarmth are excluded. Imagine this apartment lined with gorgeous pictures\nof material life that are remarkable only for their excess of brilliant\ncolor, and the magnitude and variety of the forms they represent; each\nnook and recess filled with statues of men, women, and animals,\u2014white,\ncold, stiff, stern, and lifeless in appearance; the entire building\ncheerless and chilly, with no appearance of life, activity, or warmth.\nThink what it would be to your spirit to be condemned to continuously\nwander over this vast hall, gazing upon the unattractive paintings, and\nmoving in and out among the lifeless statues, cold and unpleasant to the\ntouch.\n\nSuch a life as you would thus lead corresponds to the existence of those\nspirits of whom I write. On earth they were only intellectual, \u00e6sthetic\nanimals, for their love of the beautiful was developed only on the\nmaterial side, and the spiritual part of life was neglected. Here, they\nare surrounded by the embodiments of their mental and artistic tastes;\nbut as these are mere forms, and are not imbued with one spiritual idea,\nthey appear cold, unconscious, and dead to the beholder. Continuously\nwandering amid the senseless, barren forms of their own mind creations,\nunable to behold anything lovely and meritorious in the productions of\nothers who are more spiritual than themselves, these individuals are\nlike those who live in the frozen regions of the North, stunted in\nappearance and unable to understand and appreciate the life apart from\nand beyond their own narrow circle.\n\nTrue, the awakening period will come to all such when they shall become\naware of their false position in the spirit world, and learn that there\nis active duty and noble endeavor beyond them, through which they will\ngain happiness and a sense of genial, vigorous life; and they will\neventually turn to the more exalted realms of immortal life, in order to\ngain a spiritual education that will unfold their soul powers, and\ncultivate the true sense of beauty and the highest intellectual\nabilities their spirits are capable of expressing. Then their condition\nwill be one of warmth, vigor, and activity; their surroundings, while\nbeautiful in form and expression, will partake of glorified life, and\ntheir homes appear bright, attractive, and hospitable to those who enter\nwithin their walls.\n\n\n BLENDING OF THE SPIRITUAL AND INTELLECTUAL.\n\nI have seen spirits who were intellectual and lovers of beauty on earth,\nwho were also spiritual in their aspirations, proclivities, and\ntendencies,\u2014whose tastes were delicate, and whose habits were very\nrefined. The productions of such minds, whether of a literary or\nartistic nature, appealed ever to the sense of the beautiful, the love\nof the good, and to the highest conception of purity in the hearts of\nthose for whom they were created. The conditions in the higher life of\nsuch souls are glorious. In spirit they are active, ever working for the\ngeneral good of humanity, seeking to perfect their own powers of mind in\norder to give them a more beautiful and complete expression for the\ndelight or elevation of others. Ready to receive instruction from the\nmore advanced minds around them, they are constantly gaining a richer\nexperience and a greater unfoldment of their powers. Aspirational in\nnature and loving in spirit, these beings send forth a congenial,\nhelpful influence that attracts the good and wise to their side. Their\nhomes are bright, cheerful, and attractive; a delicious warmth pervades\ntheir households, for they are made radiant by the divine light of love\nwhich never grows dim. The surroundings of such celestials are like a\nbeautiful and immense garden, where the choicest and sweetest of flowers\nbloom, the clearest of waters flow, the most beautiful of birds warble\nmelodious songs of praise, the whitest and daintiest sculptured forms\nare to be seen, where the stateliest of trees uprear their plumy heads,\nthe balmiest of zephyrs blow, the richest and most delicious fruits are\nto be found, and where all things continuously allure one to the\nenjoyment of the finest, most glorious forms of sentient, active, genial\nlife. Who would not rather roam through such a fairy-land of sweets than\nbe compelled to wander in that gloomy, cheerless hall of senseless stone\nand vapid, unsatisfactory paintings mentioned above.\n\nThe difference between the two classes of intellectual and \u00e6sthetic\nspirits is this: the one has developed a taste for beautiful forms and\nintellectual pursuits merely to satisfy its own material nature and for\nits own personal glorification and aggrandizement, and while catering to\nthe external has ignored the vital or spiritual part of its being. The\nother class has cultivated its sense of beauty and educated its\nintellect in order to instruct and elevate others; has produced literary\nand artistic work for the purpose of appealing to the inner and higher\nnatures of humanity; has sought and found the love-element within its\nown being, and has thrown it out as a quickening power to others; has\nendeavored to cultivate the spiritual attributes of its being, and to\nbring them into conscious harmony with the outward forces of nature.\nTherefore, while the condition of one class in spirit life is\ninharmonious and unsatisfactory to itself and others, that of the other\nis beautiful, blissful, and congenial to all.\n\n\n HAPPINESS DERIVABLE ONLY FROM WITHIN.\n\nObservation and experience have taught me that in the spirit world, as\nin earthly life, individuals vary in disposition, constitution, and\ncharacteristics. What is of the greatest interest to one person\npossesses no charm whatever for another; and that particular employment\none being is adapted to pursue may be totally unsuited for another.\nHappiness among spirits is not drawn from external sources, but finds\nits central power within the soul, from whence it radiates outward, and\nclothes every objective form with beauty and every external pleasure\nwith a splendor peculiar to itself, which in turn becomes reflected back\nupon the heart, and increases the enjoyment of the individual. Never was\nthere a truer declaration than that attributed to the gentle Nazarene:\n\u201cThe kingdom of heaven is within you;\u201d and it is as true today as it\ncould possibly have been eighteen or twenty centuries ago. Unless the\nsoul is at peace with itself and all others,\u2014is not envious of the good\nanother may possess, lives in a sphere of purity and kindly feeling, and\ndesires only to do right,\u2014he or she cannot experience true happiness,\nwhich essentially in itself constitutes heaven. But when an individual\nhas attained that superior condition of mind consequent upon the\npossession of such lovely attributes, he or she has indeed arrived at\nthe heavenly state of existence, and cannot be otherwise than happy.\n\n\n THE HUMAN NATURE OF SPIRITS.\n\nHumanity appears to be the same everywhere, and in every grade of\nunfoldment. Many mortals seem to think that spirits\u2014those who have\npassed through the material transition called death\u2014must be somewhat\ndifferent from themselves. This, however, is not absolutely the case.\nSpirits are human beings, nothing more, many of them very imperfect at\nthat, though many others are pure-minded, progressive, and exalted\nindividuals, yet essentially human in every attribute and tendency. And\nwhy not? What is more beautiful, more intelligent, more powerful, and\nmore noble than humanity? Nothing but divinity itself.\n\nPerverted human nature is deplorable, and to be pitied while condemned;\nbut unfolding, advancing human nature is to be admired and emulated, for\nit is steadily arising toward divinity. Mankind ever has been, and at\npresent is, subjected to various grades of development; we find man low\ndown in advancement, almost brutal in the exhibition of his nature, but\nby degrees ascending from the immoral and degraded to the good and the\nbetter, we come to man purified, unfolded in spiritual refinements,\nexalted even to the heights of angelhood, but a human being still.\n\nThese varying conditions, incident to the life and experience of\nhumanity, are just as vivid and operative in the spirit world as on\nearth; hence we have on that plane of existence the pure and the lowly,\nthe exalted and the humble, the wise and the ignorant, the happy as well\nas the miserable.\n\nThe conditions of peace, satisfaction, and enjoyment in the spirit world\ndo not depend upon the possession of outward grandeur, external power,\nand wealth, or a love of display, as they too often do on earth, though\nthose who are happiest and most free from care in the higher life are\nthe richest in spiritual possessions, and their surroundings show a\nrefined and cultivated taste, accompanied by the means and ability for\ngratifying this love of the beautiful. There is no inconsistency in this\nstatement, because, as I have before explained, the external conditions\nand surrounding of spirits are but the expression and reflection of the\nmental or soul condition within the being, and must appear beautiful,\nsweet, and delicate, or the reverse, according to the mental and moral\nstatus of the individual.\n\n\n RIGHT AND WRONG STATES OF CONTENTMENT.\n\nProgressive spirits are contented with their existence and its\nsurroundings sufficiently to enjoy and appreciate all the good and\nlovely things that are theirs, but _not_ enough to prevent them from\nreaching upward for more light, instruction, and soul-exaltation. They\nare deeply grateful for life and its powers of unfoldment, but they ever\ndesire to move steadily on in the acquirement of wisdom and the\naccomplishment of good works.\n\nUndeveloped spirits are prone to exhibit an indifference to their\ncondition which may be mistaken for contentment, and which discloses a\nkind of inertia which prevents its possessor from attempting to rise\ninto a healthier and happier state of being. This is, unfortunately, too\noften the trouble with those who need assistance, and is the chief\nobstacle good spirits have to contend with in their efforts to benefit\nthose unhappy souls. Not until these miserable beings manifest a desire\nto better their own condition can the ministering spirits who endeavor\nto assist them be of any service; but when this wish to rise exerts\nitself in an attempt to reach upward, the degraded being is encircled by\nthe magnetic influence of that human yet divine love which emanates from\nthe wise and beneficent ones around him, upon which, through the\nimpelling force of his inner desire and exertion, he rises to superior\nheights and more pleasing conditions.\n\nFrom degree to degree of unfoldment, from grade to grade of promotion in\nthe great school of life, humanity is ever passing. Pressing on toward\nthe goal where all lovely attributes blend, and approaching the sphere\nof Perfected Being, each one will, in God\u2019s own time, through experience\nand discipline, outgrow all imperfect traits, all unholy tendencies, and\nbecome, through the operations of nature\u2019s grandest law, progress, what\nall are intended to be,\u2014noble, manly, purified, and perfected human\nbeings.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n OUR CO-OPERATIVE SOCIETIES.\n\n\nI have told my friends something of the work of the spirits who labor\nfor the good of humanity, and have described some of the conditions that\nsurround human beings\u2014embodied and disembodied\u2014which make or mar their\nhappiness, elevate or depress their spirits.\n\nAs on earth, so in the spirit world, various organizations and societies\nexist for the suppression of vice and evil, the propagation of virtue\nand truth, the diffusion of knowledge and the banishment of ignorance,\nthe protection of society, and the general elevation of mankind. Many of\nyour most philanthropic schemes, your greatest benevolent institutions,\nyour grandest methods of benefiting humanity, your purest organizations,\nand your noblest societies for the good of man, are outgrowths from\nsimilar labors and establishments that have long flourished in the\nspirit world. Wise and exalted spirits unite in working for the blessing\nof their fellow-beings; they devise ways and means, and work\ncontinuously to enlighten human minds upon the laws of life.\n\nIt has always been the desire of these spirits to bring a comprehension\nof their work to mortals, and to enlist kindred souls on earth in like\nlabors. Whenever they have found mortals sufficiently susceptible to\nholy influences, and possessed with souls beating in sympathy for\nsuffering humanity, they have worked upon their sensibilities until they\nhave become quickened under the angelic power operating upon them, and\nhave responded to the thought of the attending spirits. What is the\nresult? Philanthropic schemes are started, agitated, and discussed;\nearnest men and noble women associate together to evolve plans for the\nbenefit of the lowly, weak, and suffering; a new influx of spiritual\npower is brought to them, which they imbibe into their lives, all\nunconsciously to themselves, and very soon some useful, benevolent work\nis in progress, corresponding to a similar beneficent labor in the\nhigher life.\n\n\n EARTHLY REFORMS ORIGINATE IN SPIRIT LIFE.\n\nIn this way good works are conceived and elaborated on earth. I do not\nmean to say that mortals are unable to project and perform any\nphilanthropic enterprise for themselves, and that your self-sacrificing,\nearnest men and women are made so entirely by the influence of others\nwho are unseen; but I do affirm that all good spirits are working in the\ndirection of human reform, and to benefit humanity; that many of these\nintelligences have thus labored for many centuries; that their\nsympathies and tender pity for the unfortunate condition of a large\nportion of mankind bring them into close contact with the earth, and\nthat, when they perceive a mortal who is alike sympathetic, pitiful, and\ndesirous of doing good with themselves, they are attracted to such a\nbeing, and by the magnetic influence and quickening energy they shed\nupon him, they stimulate his powers, multiply his resources, and inspire\nhim to express his holy desires and good wishes in outward, practical\nform. Thus, noble institutions are established on earth for the\nenlightenment, education, and elevation of our race; grand labors for\nthe suppression of vice and the promotion of virtue are pursued, and\nthese are types, counterparts, and representations of like institutions\nand good works in the spirit world.\n\nWhatever is good, reformatory, or beneficent in its nature, whatever is\nprogressive and an aid to human unfoldment, is abiding, for it is of the\nspirit. Whatever is debasing, selfish in character, and downward in\ntendency, is transient; it belongs to the material, and cannot survive\nthe encroachments of the higher law. Therefore, all good works have\ntheir inception in the spirit, and gain their first growth in the land\nof souls. After a time, when conditions are made favorable for their\nappearance, they become expressed through physical life, and are\nproductive of lasting results for the welfare of humanity.\n\nThe spirit kingdoms that are inhabited by intelligences who have\nadvanced to a state of happiness commensurate to the lesson of truth,\nwisdom, and self-abnegation they have learned; who know that life is\nonly truly employed by those who labor for the benefit of others; who\nare pure-minded, and work in love for those more unfortunate than\nthemselves, may be said to consist of one grand co-operative society,\nthe various members of which are so united in sympathy and purpose that\nall work together as one person for the amelioration of human sorrow and\nsuffering. This society has, however, its various duties to perform, and\nthese duties may be assigned to different bodies of intelligences, so\nthat a number of smaller organizations or bands are formed, all having\ntheir particular labors to perform, and all working to the one grand end\nof educating mankind.\n\nThat you may more fully understand the work of these spiritual\nsocieties, and the results, vast and important in their nature,\ncontinually flowing from them, I will endeavor to unfold before you a\ndescription of the labors, uses, and intentions of a few of them. I know\nthat the earthly language I am obliged to employ is very inadequate to\nexpress things belonging to the spirit, where life is rich in signs and\nsymbols, and where ideas are multiplied beyond the power of mortals to\nexpress; yet, if I but give you a faint conception of these things, you\nwill gain some knowledge of life in the spheres, and be the better\nprepared to experience it yourselves when you pass up higher.\n\n\n DIVISIONS OF SPIRIT MISSION OF LABOR.\n\nA large number of spirits have banded together for the purpose of\ndisseminating the light of truth and a practical knowledge of real life\namong the ignorant and unenlightened of both worlds. In order to utilize\ntheir powers and to employ their energies more effectively, the large\nband of workers is subdivided into a number of smaller societies, or\nunions, each of which has a special duty to perform. Thus, one of these\norganizations finds its particular mission among the lowly and\nundeveloped individuals of earthly life; and it is the duty of its\nmembers to use their influence to its utmost extent for the elevation of\nthose misguided, untutored individuals with whom they come in contact.\nWhile much may be accomplished by the good spirits from time to time by\noperating directly upon the hearts and minds of the unfortunate ones,\nand implanting within them a desire to advance in the attainment of\nknowledge and goodness, yet their greatest means of labor is to exert an\ninfluence upon the denizens of earth who are educated, cultured, and\nrefined, and awaken within _them_ a determination to agitate the subject\nof human needs and requirements, until, through the power and\npersistency they bring to bear upon such questions, a widespread public\nsentiment is created in favor of them that will force society to\nrecognize their claims, and to seek some method for their proper\nadjustment.\n\nThus has every reform that has resulted in benefit to the human race\nreceived its impetus on earth from bands of spirits whose special work\nhas been in that direction. In this way the question of a universal and\nfree education has been aroused, agitated, and started upon the road to\na practical and successful solution in this country. Thus the abolition\nof human slavery in the American nation received its first great power\nto accomplish its vast results from the spirit world. Thus the subject\nof temperance was brought home to the attention and thought of thinking,\nhumanitarian minds by a band of invisible intelligences from the higher\nlife, who have pledged themselves to relax not their efforts until they\nbehold every mortal regarding intemperance as an evil habit to be\ndevoutly shunned and resisted.\n\n\n WOMAN SUFFRAGE.\n\nThus, the question of universal liberty has been aroused in the minds of\nthe thinkers of every nation,\u2014a subject that will not down at any\nbidding, but one that will continue to arise until all countries are\nthrown open in a hospitable welcome to all people, and until all rights\nand privileges become free and equal to each one. As an outgrowth of\nthis idea comes the question of Woman Suffrage, which makes its demands\nwith the laws of justice and reason on its side, and which will continue\nto appear before mankind until its claims and requests are recognized\nand granted; for this matter\u2014so vital to all classes of society, and so\nessential to the true advancement of the race\u2014is under the supervision\nof a co-operative society in the heavens, whose members are enlisted in\nthe labor of guiding it on to a grand and successful result.\n\n\n THE INDIANS.\n\nGrowing out of the question of human freedom also appears the problem of\nhow are the native Americans of this country\u2014the Indians\u2014to be protected\nand cared for? And the bands of spirits who are looking after this\nmatter declare that nothing short of exact justice towards the red man\ncan answer their demands in this quarter. And sooner or later this great\nquestion must be settled by the government of the United States granting\nthe privileges of education, industrial and intellectual, of\nestablishing homes, of holding property, and the rights of citizenship\nto all honest and respectable Indians; for they (the spirits) will\ncontinue to exert their influence and power upon the inhabitants of this\ncountry until the people arouse in their might, and demand justice for\nthe too-long outraged red man.\n\n\n PEACE ARBITRATION.\n\nThe subject of national and sectional warfare is also under the\nattention of a large organization of spirits, who are working to\nestablish a system of Peace Arbitration on earth, under the quiet and\nharmonious regulation of which all national or other difficulties\nrelating to the interests of the people may be wisely adjusted; and\nthere is no doubt in my mind but that their efforts will be crowned with\nsuccess.\n\n\n HEREDITY.\n\nThere are many other branches of reform relating to human interests that\nare looked after by wise spirits who are laboring for the advancement of\nmankind, and one especially, and an important theme, is that which comes\nunder the title of Heredity, and which concerns more vitally, perhaps,\nthan does anything else the health, happiness, and prosperity of the\ncoming races. Much thought and observation long since taught a large\nclass of thinking spirits what a few mortals are but just beginning to\nlearn, viz., that unless man attends to the offspring he rears by\nproviding them with the very best pre-natal conditions for growth and\ndevelopment, it will be almost useless for him to attempt to reform them\nof gross habits and impure tendencies _after_ they have entered upon the\narena of mortal existence and strife. Not until humanity is educated\nconcerning the laws of its being, and understands that whatever trait or\ncharacteristic is unduly developed in the individual, whatever taint of\nbodily or moral disease is allowed to fester in his system, will surely\ntransmit its evil results to his children, and that it is his duty to so\nstudy his constitution and habits, and to so regulate his daily life,\nthat he will be able to entail upon his offspring only those traits of\ncharacter, or those elements of physical health, that will produce the\nmost beautiful and satisfactory results; not until then will the coming\ngenerations show a proper development of physical and moral power that\nwill regenerate and redeem the world from misery.\n\nThe laws of Heredity, or Transmission, work in two directions, and while\nthey declare \u201cthe sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the\nchildren,\u201d they also maintain that the virtues and lovely attributes of\nthe parents shall descend to their offspring with added power.\nTherefore, wise spirits are working for the dissemination of this great\ntruth among mortals, and they are constantly bringing in a new influx of\nthought and the desire to agitate the subject to those few minds on\nearth who are ready to receive this knowledge, and who have the courage\nto express their convictions for the enlightenment of the many.\n\n\n AN ORGANIZATION OF SPIRITS FOR THE ELEVATION OF EARTH\u2019S INHABITANTS.\n\nWe have a society in the spirit world whose members are all pledged to\nthe work assigned them. The tasks set before them by the wise and\nexalted spirits whose abilities, intelligence, beneficent purposes and\npractices, as well as spiritual experiences, qualify them for their\npositions as guides, directors, and councilors are not always pleasant\nand agreeable to the members, and yet, knowing that these tasks are\ndesigned to work out some lasting blessing for others, they falter not,\nbut attend faithfully to the accomplishment of what proves to be a\ndivinely-appointed mission.\n\nThe labors of this society are varied, but all tend in the one\ndirection,\u2014that of purifying and educating humanity. One or more of its\nmembers may be directed to visit some den of iniquity on earth, and by a\nholy and uplifting influence seek to draw away and benefit some unhappy,\nmiserable spirit who lingers there, and also to exert a magnetic power\nupon some degraded mortal until he or she becomes disgusted with an\nunholy life, and feels a desire to abandon it for a better. This is not\nas pleasing and beautiful a task to the spirits who engage in it as is\nthe mission of others of the same band who are delegated to watch over\nand care for little children whose lives are innocent, and whose\nconditions are refining; but they know that in their field of labor is\nthe promise of good results, and they apply themselves faithfully to the\nperformance of their duty.\n\nGreat good is accomplished in this way. In every crowd of undeveloped\nand immoral beings who cling close to the lowest haunts of human life on\nearth the wise beneficent spirits are sure to find at least one mortal\nand one spirit who have become satiated with the indulgence of their\nanimal natures, disgusted with their lives of wrong-doing and sin, and\nanxious to begin a holier life. Thus, these angel missionaries find\nfruitful soil in which to plant their good seed, and, after many trials,\nand the exercise of great patience, they have the satisfaction of\nfinding their efforts rewarded with success, and of knowing that they\nhave been the means of guiding more than one immortal soul toward the\nlife of peace and happiness that belongs to all, but which can only be\nattained by manly efforts to reach it,\u2014a life of endeavor and of\nself-renunciation so far as the gratification of personal pride,\npassion, or ambition is concerned.\n\nThe society of spirits of which I write is large and extensive, and\nembraces a great number of intelligences who work in connection not only\nwith this country but also with those of the entire world. Wherever\nthere is a human being to be uplifted, instructed, and blest; wherever\nthere is an immortal soul to be redeemed from error, they are to be\nfound. The mission of these spirit people is to do good; their labors\nare confined to no race, color, or nation, but are extended to all\nhumanity. It would be impossible for me to enumerate the various methods\nthey adopt for the accomplishment of their work, or the divers duties\nand labors that engage their attention; but they are earnest, zealous,\nand faithful to duty, and under their benign influence the lowly are\nexalted and the weak receive strength.\n\nCo-operation is a grand incentive to labor; it also bringeth strength\nand courage to those who are united by its shining bands. It is the\ncreator of harmony, sympathy, and fraternity of feeling in the hearts of\nall whom it reaches. Under its beautiful and effective ministrations,\nhumanity is destined to grow and unfold its highest powers and\nattributes until universal love and tenderness bloom in all hearts, and\nevery soul, of every race and clime, becomes united in a heavenly band\nof brotherhood and sisterhood.\n\n\n CARE AND PROTECTION OF MEDIUMS.\n\nOne of our extensive co-operative societies is composed of young ladies\nwhose duties are to study the laws governing mediumship, as well as to\ngain an understanding of those electric forces operating between spirit\nand matter, of which certain spirits take advantage in manifesting their\npresence to mortals. Realizing the grievous error concerning immortal\nlife in which the larger portion of mankind is plunged, and wishing to\ndo all in their power to demonstrate the truth to humanity, so that\ndoubt may give way to certainty, fear to confidence, ignorance to\nknowledge, and all hearts made glad with the soul-cheering conviction\nthat there is no death, but that life is eternal, these spirits have\njoined together for the purpose of working in harmony for the promotion\nof spiritual truth upon the earth.\n\nSingly, in pairs, or in groups, the young people of this society visit\nthe various mediums of earth to supply them with magnetic power and\nspiritual strength. They draw around each of those sensitive instruments\nan ethereal garment woven from the elements of their (the spirits\u2019) own\nlives, which, like a mantle of light, protects the mediums from the\npoisonous arrows of persecution, scorn, and envy hurled against them by\nmalicious or distrustful minds, and guards them in their labor of love\nfor the angels. Spirits are well aware that thoughts are tangible things\nthat can be both seen and felt, and can wound or heal the sensitive\nsouls to whom they are directed, according to their blighting or\nbeneficent character. Thus, when one is envious or in any manner hostile\nin feeling to another, the thoughts which he directs toward that person,\ncharged as they are with the virile magnetism the exercise of hatred or\nany other passion engenders, strike upon the spirit of him to whom they\nare directed with stinging effect. If the individual of whom this person\nhappens to think unkindly or severely is one susceptible to spiritual\nand other influences,\u2014kept in a negative condition because of the\nfrequent control of his organism by spirits,\u2014he will keenly sense the\nsilent shafts of thought hurled against him, and suffer in consequence.\nMany mediums experience mental and physical pain, as well as debility of\npower, frequently when they are unaware of the cause; while at the very\ntime some person, who is antagonistic to them and their work, is\nthinking unkindly of them, thus producing a disastrous effect upon the\nlife of the sensitive subject of their thoughts.\n\nTherefore, the work of the band of spirits here alluded to is a highly\nimportant one, for the magnetic sympathy and love of these pure-minded,\nearnest, and tender young beings produce a tranquilizing, soothing\neffect upon the lives of the mediums whom they approach, which is very\nbeneficial to them. And though each medium has a band of attending\nspirits, composed of males and females, many of whom are powerful to\nguard and care for the susceptible instrument under their charge, yet\nthey are ever glad to be assisted in the performance of their arduous\nduties of demonstrating immortal truth to mortals, and at the same time\nwarding off unpleasant and dangerous conditions from their mediums, by\nthe spirits of whom I write.\n\nJust here allow me to remark that as unkind and malicious thoughts of\nanother will wound and annoy that person, so gentle, loving, and kindly\nthoughts concerning a friend will reach the individual to whom they are\ndirected with an influence refreshing and sweet, and carry blessing upon\ntheir way. How important, then, that we should all endeavor to cultivate\nkindly feelings in our hearts for our fellows, that our influence may\nresult in good for humanity.\n\n\n DEVELOPMENT OF NEW MEDIUMS.\n\nWhile the society of spirits here mentioned have much to do in exerting\na cheerful influence over mediums in order to keep them in condition for\ntheir work, this does not comprise the extent of their labors. To spread\nthe truth, and to be able to enlighten humanity at large upon the great\nquestion of immortal life, new mediums must be developed and brought\ninto the field of spiritual labor. The spirit world has need of more\ninstruments; and the members of our society find a work in visiting\nearth\u2019s people, and seeking mediumistic persons whose powers can be\nunfolded for the use of spirit helpers and the service of humanity. This\ntask is pursued with zeal and earnestness, and many mortals are thus\ndiscovered and magnetically operated upon whose powers are developing\nfor the work of the future. While certain individuals in middle and\nadvanced life are becoming mediums, many young people are developing, in\nthe privacy of home life, medial powers that are to be utilized by the\nspirits for the furtherance of their grand work. And the bands of young\nspirits from our co-operative society are determined that they will do\nall in their power to make this labor a mighty success.\n\n\n \u201cOUR CO-OPERATIVE SOCIETY.\u201d\n\nSome three summers ago, a small company of Spiritualists visiting from\nthe West, while assembled in an upper room of one of the largest hotels\nin Boston, was addressed by \u201cBetsey,\u201d the spirit-messenger of Mrs. J. C.\nJackson, one of Cincinnati\u2019s most popular and active mediums, upon the\nsubject of co-operation. At that time, the sprightly and entertaining\ncontrol of Mrs. Jackson proposed that those present should form\nthemselves into a society for the purpose of uniting their efforts in\nseeking to benefit and bless humanity. It was suggested that this\norganization be called \u201cOur Co-operative Society,\u201d and known as an\noffshoot from, or a branch of, the Co-operative Societies of the Spirit\nWorld. Its members were not to be pledged to secrecy as to its forms and\nconditions, for their doings were to be such as would bear the\ninspection of the world; their labors might be extended in any\ndirection, provided they pointed to the one result,\u2014that of blessing\nsome human being, mortal or spirit, and could be performed together or\nseparately, as circumstances at the time demanded. It was further urged\nthat no initiation fee, quarterly or other payment be collected from its\nmembers, for its doors were to be opened free to everyone who had a\ndesire at heart to be of use in the world. The regulations of this\nsociety were to be such that all could conform to them in spirit as well\nas to the letter, for they only required earnest hearts and willing\nhands to do the work.\n\nThe duties of the members who should join this band would be such as all\ncould perform. The brother who possessed material wealth would be\nexpected to use a portion of his means in assisting the needy, or in\nother beneficent ways, as an opportunity for doing so arose before him.\nThose who could give but a mite for the furtherance of some good work,\nand who gave it with a cheerful spirit, would perform their share of the\nsociety\u2019s labor just as truly as the man or woman of ample means who\ncontributed largely. Those who had no money to bestow in charity, but\nwho could speak a comforting word to the distressed, would be welcomed\nto the band; while those who, when the occasion arose, could perform\nsome helpful hand-service in aid of others would be called associates\nand helpers. In short, the duty of members would be to become useful to\nothers, and to exert their energies to benefit their fellow-beings. No\nmatter in what direction or under what circumstances they found a human\ncreature in need of any service they could render,\u2014whether of a material\nor spiritual nature,\u2014they must exercise their power, and perform that\nwork.\n\nThe life that now is may be beautified and made to extend its influence\ninto the higher existence, and in blessing mortals by our helpful\nassistance, we also benefit and uplift the weary spirits who return to\nearthly conditions seeking release from their sufferings, while a\nbenison of light and peace reflects from our good works upon the lovely\nevangels who are returning to mortal life to associate and co-operate\nwith those who choose to join such a society as the one under\nconsideration.\n\n\u201cBetsey\u201d further stated to her group of interested listeners that no\nspecial place or regular time of meeting would be chosen for \u201cOur\nCo-operative Society,\u201d but that its members could perform their work\nwherever they might be, and that all the world had the privilege of\nconsidering themselves associative workers of the Union if they chose to\ndo so; while if true charity, kindly feeling and helpful service were\ncultivated and conscientiously exercised by each one, no report of their\ndoings or progress would be needed. The angels would know, understand,\nand approve.\n\n\n WHAT CONSTITUTES MEMBERSHIP.\n\nWe are all brothers and sisters, children of one Father and Mother,\nmembers of one great family, and it is time we endeavored to strengthen\nthe bonds of fraternity between each other. Let us do this to make our\nfellows happier or their lot easier to bear. To call up a smile to a\nweary face, to make a heart sing with joy, to cause others to grow\nthankful for the amenities and blessings of life, is a noble work; and\nmortals who strive to do these things, wherever they are, or under\nwhatsoever conditions they may labor, are members of \u201cOur Co-operative\nSociety,\u201d originated and established in the spirit world and revealed to\nmortals for their approval.\n\nThus was the question of the formation of a co-operative society on\nearth, similar in its principles, objects and purposes, and to be as\nfar-reaching in its results as the same organizations in the spiritual\nworld, first mooted and approved by \u201cBetsey,\u201d the control of Mrs.\nJackson, to a few friends in the city of Boston; but at the time nothing\nwas accomplished in the way of forming a union, or of adopting the\npractical suggestions of that worthy and clear-sighted spirit. After the\nreturn of the party to their homes in Cincinnati, a spiritual seance was\nformed, which now convenes at the residence of Mrs. Dr. Jackson on the\nSaturday evenings of each week.\n\nUpon these occasions it is the privilege of my father\u2019s sister\u2014a\nbeautiful spirit who is truly a minister of peace, hope, and love to\nmany weary souls\u2014to regularly control Mrs. J., through whose organism\nshe is enabled to give many instructive and important lessons that\nresult in great good to her hearers.\n\nIn frequenting the circles of her loved and ever faithful medium, my\naunt Sarah has become familiar with its regular attendants, and so\nunderstands in a measure their spiritual capacities, powers, and\naspirations; and at one time, taking up the idea of \u201cOur Co-operative\nSociety,\u201d as out-lined by \u201cBetsey\u201d upon an earlier occasion, she so\nclearly elaborated it to the understanding of the mortal friends that\nthey expressed themselves in utter harmony with its design, and\nintimated they were ready to unite with the spiritual world in its\nlabors of love for humanity.\n\n\n ITS PLANS, PURPOSES, AND INFLUENCE.\n\nThus \u201cOur Co-operative Society\u201d has been inaugurated, and its members\nare in earnest. They desire and intend to do good whenever and wherever\nthey can, and to try and make the world better for having lived. Not\nonly the Cincinnati friends belong to this Union, but individuals in\nBoston and elsewhere are aware of its existence, and join in its labors,\ndeclaring themselves members, and signifying their intention to perform\ntheir share of its good works; while hundreds of spirits are in sympathy\nwith the movement, and are the unseen associates who are guiding it on\nto a glorious result.\n\nAlready has the power and influence of \u201cOur Co-operative Society\u201d spread\nin many directions, and the magnitude of its future usefulness and\nprosperity no man can predict. The grand, moral, spiritual teachings\nenunciated by celestial visitants through the instrumentality of Mrs.\nJackson at her Saturday seances are productive of the best results, and\nare an important element in the work and growth of the society. All such\nmeetings, where the truths taught are wisely and lovingly given, and are\nthankfully received by earnest minds who endeavor to incorporate them\ninto their daily lives, are places where the true principles of union\nare to be found, and where harmony of action reveal the existence of\n\u201cOur Co-operative Society.\u201d\n\nAllow me here to invite all my readers to join our association, and to\nbecome helpers in the work of blessing mankind. They have no need to\nsend in their names; all they have to do is to resolve to do good\nwherever they can, and to set about it at once, and they will be\nrecognized by the angels as co-workers and friends.\n\n\n\n\n PART SECOND.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n INTRODUCTORY.\u2014SPIRIT MAY.\n\n\nThis, the second part of our volume, will contain the writings of a\nbeautiful young spirit whose literary labors through her medium, Miss M.\nT. Shelhamer, have been adapted to the taste of children and young\npeople; though ample testimony has been received from a number of\npersons of mature age that these simply-worded and easily-understood\npoems and narratives of spirit children, and of child-life in the\nspheres, are replete with interest, instruction, and enjoyment for\n\u201cchildren of a larger growth\u201d than those for whom they were originally\ndesigned.\n\nMary G. Kinsey is a younger sister of Kate A. Kinsey\u2014spirit Violet\u2014whose\ndescriptions of life and labor in the spirit world have been given on\nthe preceding pages. She passed to spirit life June 27, 1862, at the\ntender age of four months and one day, and consequently has gained her\nknowledge and experience of life in the spirit world. In the early\nsummer of 1879, spirit Violet informed her medium that her sister Mary\nwas a teacher of little children in the Summer-land; that she dearly\nloved the young and lovely buds of humanity, and found her chief\nenjoyment in ministering to their needs, and in catering to their\npleasure; and announced her, Mary\u2019s, intention of opening a children\u2019s\ndepartment in the columns of the _Voice of Angels_, through which she\nwould talk to the children of earth,\u2014singing them simple rhymes, or\nrelating incidents and anecdotes of the children of the spirit world.\n\nShortly after this, Mary appeared to the medium for the purpose of\nputting this plan into execution, inditing through the organism of Miss\nShelhamer her first contribution to a Children\u2019s Department for the\n_Voice_ under the signature of \u201cSpirit May,\u201d which _nom de plume_ she\nhas ever since employed; and from that time to the present, this sweet\nyoung spirit has assiduously labored to present to mortal children\nsomething fresh and bright from the tablets of her mind\u2014either in poetry\nor prose\u2014that would be at once interesting and instructive. At first,\nspirit May\u2019s productions were given in the form of verse for the ready\ncomprehension of her young readers; but later, she successfully\nattempted the description of how children live in the Summer-land, with\naccounts of their labors, studies, and recreations.\n\nAs this work is published for the purpose of informing mortals\nconcerning real life in the spirit world, that portion of it which\nspirit May has contributed will consist principally of her recitals of\nthe work, doings, and surroundings of spirit children. The succeeding\nfour chapters of this work treat upon these themes exclusively. Below we\ngive a little brochure written by spirit May, entitled, \u201cThe Council of\nthe Flowers,\u201d followed by a few selections from her poetic contributions\nto the _Voice of Angels_, with which it is thought best to finish this\nchapter.\n\n\n THE COUNCIL OF THE FLOWERS.\n\nThe soft, glistening raindrops of April fell over the tired earth, that\nhad been held by wintry cold and storm for many long months. The bright\ngolden sunbeams and the sweet, fragrant breezes of May swept over the\nfields and woods and lanes, calling their flowers forth to enjoy the\nbeautiful springtime of gladness and mirth.\n\nMyriads of blossoms, white and yellow, red and purple and blue, sprang\nup from their nests of dainty green grasses and leaves, to swing in the\npassing breeze and shake the perfume from their petals with which to\nscent the balmy air. Roses and lilies, violets and daisies, pinks and\ncowslips, and a thousand other flowers made the hedges and gardens and\nmeadows and forests appear gay and beautiful and very sweet.\n\nJune came and went, followed by July and August, with their burning\nsplendor of sunlight and heat. Many of the flowers bloomed in sweetness\nfor a little while, and then dropped their leaves and died to earthly\nthings, and passed away to the heaven where flowers bloom forever.\nOthers, fragrant and fresh and fair, came to take their places, and so\nthe whole world was sweet until the autumn came.\n\nDown, down, dropped the leaves from the trees, whirling along through\nthe air, no longer wearing their summer hue of green, but bearing the\nmarks of age in the dull, brown appearance which had come to them.\n\nThe autumn time had come, and the oldest flowers began to shake their\nheads and whisper to each other that it was time for them to be gone,\nand that the winter must not find them here below. A great wind from the\neast, that had been listening to these remarks, caught up the words, and\nrushing over hill and dale, and wood and field, shrieked them into the\nears of all the flowers that lingered there, causing them to draw their\npetals together and shiver in alarm.\n\nThen the wise old flowers said: \u201cLet us call a council, and discuss the\npropriety of leaving earth before the snow-king comes.\u201d\n\nAnd so they gathered together all who could come, and concluded that\nthey had lived quite long enough in this world, and it was time for them\nto take their flight to the great Paradise of flowers, where in one\ngreat garden they should live and bloom, and enjoy the sunlight and the\ndew forever.\n\nAnd then a great red rose, the last of its kind, shook its fragrant\npetals and sweetly said: \u201cOh, kind west wind, we have decided to leave\nthis world for our beautiful home above. Please to carry this message to\nour friends and relations all over the land. Wherever you find a flower,\nno matter how humble it may be, or what its color, whisper into its ear\nthese words: Be ready when the west wind comes again to take your flight\nfrom earth; all your friends and kindred will join you in your journey\nto the Summer-land; their mission is ended here below; their new life\nwill be taken up in company with their sweet friends of spring and\nsummer, who have passed on before them. There is joyful reunion for all\nthe flowers. Here they shall bloom no more. When the winter flies, new\nflowers and other blooms will shed their perfume here, but you and your\nfriends will blossom in the eternal world, where no wintry cold nor\nfrost will ever come.\u201d\n\nAnd the genial west wind bore the message of the grand old rose far and\nwide, and whispered it to every flower, and the flowers bowed in silence\nwhile he spake; but when he had passed along, they shook off their\nuseless petals and prepared for their journey as they sweetly sang: \u201cWe\nare going home, we are going home; good-bye, old world, good-bye.\u201d\n\nAnd when the west wind came again, he found them ready, and he gathered\nthem all up in his arms and bore them away to the happy Summer-land.\n\nThe north wind came with a biting blast, but he found no trembling leaf\nor shrinking flower; they had all departed with their friend, the west\nwind, to remain forever in that land of sunlight, where the south wind\nsings to them of the peace and beauty of their heavenly home.\n\n\n FOR THE LITTLE ONES.\n\n All day long the leafy branches\n Of the stately maple tree\n Waved their banners in the breezes\n Bold and fearless, strong and free;\n All day long the golden sunshine\n Bathed the pretty flowers in light,\n As they peeped above the grasses\n And revealed their faces bright.\n\n All day long a merry songster\n Warbled in the leafy tree,\n Waking all the air with music,\n Thrilling all the hours with glee;\n For he held a happy secret\n \u2019Neath his crimson mottled coat,\n Cause of all the liquid gladness\n Bubbling from his downy throat.\n\n Let me tell to you the secret\u2014\n In a dainty, pretty nest,\n Hid among the leafy branches,\n There were cuddled down to rest\n Little tiny, cunning birdlings,\n Three in number\u2014do you see?\n This was why the merry songster\n Warbled in his happy glee.\n\n All day long the birdies wondered\n What this strange, bright world could be,\n While their gentle-hearted mother\n Hushed them with her tender \u201cWee;\u201d\n And the happy, singing father\n Brought them goodies fresh to eat,\n As he told them famous stories\n Of the flowers pure and sweet.\n\n What a happy, joyous summer\n Came to bless the maple tree\n As the birdies grew in beauty,\n Strength and vigor, full and free;\n And they filled the earth with music,\n Charmed the sunshine, woke the flowers,\n As they brought a peaceful blessing\n To the golden-hearted hours.\n\n\n WHO CAN TELL?\n\n Which is the prettiest flower\n Growing in field or dell?\n Think of it, little children,\n See if your tongues can tell.\n Is it the white-fringed daisy,\n Bright with its heart of gold?\n Is it the fragrant snowdrop,\n Peeping above the mold?\n\n Which is the prettiest flower\n Blooming in woody glade?\n Is it the lowly violet,\n Seeking the cooling shade?\n Is it the sweet field-lily,\n Lifting her shining head?\n Or is it the perfumed wild rose,\n On the clearest dewdrops fed?\n\n Which is the prettiest flower\n Growing in meadow green?\u2014\n The buttercup so yellow,\n With gay and dashing mien?\n Is it the dandelion,\n So like a star of gold?\n Or is it the tiger-lily,\n With manner bright and bold?\n\n Oh, who can tell, my children,\n The prettiest flower of all,\n From lily fair and stately\n To violet so small?\n For each is bright and glowing,\n And fills with native grace,\n From early seed to blowing,\n Its own appointed place.\n\n\n WORK.\n\n Work! work! work!\n \u2019Tis better to work than play\u2014\n \u2019Tis better to do some little good\n As we travel from day to day;\n \u2019Tis better to help some needy one\n Than to idle our time away.\n\n Work that is done with zeal\n Is never too hard to do,\n Work that is full of use\n Will bring only strength to you;\n Work that will bless some weary soul\n Is filled with a purpose true.\n\n Oh, children, large or small,\n Give happy smiles, not tears,\n Give pleasant looks and loving words\n Through all the coming years\n To those who come to you in pain,\n Bowed down by doubts and fears.\n\n Give of the best you have\n To brighten life below,\n To all who come within your reach\n As on your way you go;\n Be gentle, patient, true, and kind,\n A friend to all in woe.\n\n The angels give you joy,\n And guard you with their love,\n They watch you with their tender care\n Where\u2019er your footsteps rove;\n They guide you o\u2019er the shining way\n That leads to Heaven above.\n\n\n TO MY SISTER GENEVIEVE.\n\n I know a little maiden,\n So pure and sweet and fair,\n There\u2019s roses in her smiling face\n And sunbeams in her hair;\n Her voice is soft and pleasant,\n And rings with notes of love;\n Her eyes are bright as starry gems\n That shine in heaven above.\n\n This happy little maiden\n Possesses jewels bright,\n With mines of wealth and splendor,\n Aflame with brilliant light;\n The wealth of priceless tenderness\n Affection\u2019s soul imparts,\n The gems of love and kindness\n That shine from parent hearts.\n\n Her path is strewn with blossoms\n Of kindly smiles and words,\n That break in sweetest music,\n Like songs of summer birds,\n From those who dwell about her\u2014\n Dear brothers, sister, true\u2014\n And crown her life with gladness\n More sweet than morning dew.\n\n Oh, gentle little maiden,\n The angels love you well,\n And bless your life with holier joy\n Than human tongue can tell;\n They whisper to your spirit\n In accents pure and clear,\n \u201cBe gentle, pure, and loving,\n For God has placed you here\n\n To bless the souls of mortals,\n And fill their hearts with love,\n To lead them o\u2019er the starry heights\n To holier worlds above:\n\n He gives you words of kindness\n To scatter as you go\n Along the way that leads to heaven\n From earthly fields below.\u201d\n\n\n GRANDMA\u2019S PET.\n\n What a charming, nice old lady\n Sits in yonder easy-chair,\n Where the straying sunbeams wander\n O\u2019er her locks of snow-white hair!\n Do you know that she is grandma\n To these little children three,\n Who are playing by the doorway\n In such merry, laughing glee?\n\n There is roguish little Harry,\n With his eyes as black as sloes,\n Flashing, leaping, snapping, dancing,\n And a sweet face like a rose;\n There is laughing Sue, whose tresses\n Are as bright as shining gold\u2014\n Happy Sue, whose life is joyous,\n For she is but ten years old.\n\n Here is little, timid Bessie,\n Quietest of all the three,\n Fair as any snow-white lily\n And as sweet as she can be;\n With her ringlets brown and shining\n Falling o\u2019er her smiling face,\n Bessie is a pretty picture\n As she moves with gentle grace.\n\n Now, of all these little children,\n Which does grandma love the best?\n Listen to her quiet answer:\n \u201cIf you put me to the test,\n\n I am sure I cannot tell you,\n For each one is dear to me:\n Harry is my pride and pleasure,\n And I love his boyish glee:\n\n Sue is wild and sometimes reckless,\n And she does not always mind\n What her gentle mother tells her\u2014\n To such faults I am not blind;\n But I know that she is thoughtless,\n And these faults will be outgrown;\n Susie is my darling madcap,\n And no brighter child I\u2019ve known.\n\n Bessie is a precious baby,\n And for her I often fret\n If she\u2019s from my side an hour\u2014\n So perhaps _she_ is my pet:\n But I love them _all_\u2014the darlings\u2014\n And I pray the Holy One\n To preserve them pure and spotless,\n Till their life on earth is done.\u201d\n\n\n TWO BIRDIES.\n\n Down in a cool and mossy glen\n Two little birdies sing,\n One hath a flaming crimson breast,\n And one a speckled wing;\n They chirp and talk and sing away,\n As birdies often do,\n And fill the sunny air of day\n With music sweet and true.\n\n They have a cunning little nest,\n Safe hidden in a tree,\n Where four wee birdlings snugly rest\n In happiness and glee;\n\n And not a shadow flits across\n The sunshine of their way,\n And so they sit and sing in joy\n Through all the summer day.\n\n When Master Robin brings his food\n To Mrs. Jenny Wren,\n A cheerful flutter ripples through\n The pleasant, mossy glen;\n The wee, small birdlings open wide\n Their tiny mouths for more,\n As careful Jenny feeds them well\n From out her ample store.\n\n Oh, children, when you go and play\n Within the mossy glen,\n Look carefully for Robin Red,\n And Mrs. Jenny Wren;\n And as they sit and chirp to you\n Of all their tender joy,\n Resolve to never harm a bird\n Nor any nest destroy.\n\n\n EVENING.\n\n When the day has gone to sleep,\n And the shades of night appear,\n All along the evening sky\n Twinkling stars are shining clear;\n Then the restless, weary birds\n Cuddle in their downy nest,\n Undisturbed by doubt or fear,\n For our Father gives them rest.\n\n As the golden stars appear\n In the sky of crystal blue,\n And the flowerets seek repose,\n Bathed in heaven\u2019s pearly dew;\n\n When the breezes cease to blow,\n In their wandering, willful way,\n When the waters quiet grow,\n And the leaflets cease to play;\n\n All are folded down to rest,\n Nature gives each one repose\n Till the morning-star appears,\n And the gates of day unclose;\n And with flowers, birds, and bees\n Little children fall asleep,\n Safely in the arms of love,\n That eternal vigils keep.\n\n When the evening stars appear,\n Little forms in robes of white,\n Kneeling by their mother\u2019s knee,\n Pray to Him who rules the night;\n And their gentle prayers ascend\n On the wings of faith and love,\n To the angels who attend\n Little children up above.\n\n From the heavens where angels dwell,\n From the earth and air and sky,\n From the parent heart below,\n From the Father\u2019s love on high,\n Comes a blessing pure and sweet,\n All aglow with holy care,\n For the children who repeat,\n Lispingly, their evening prayer.\n\n\n THE AWAKENING OF THE FLOWERS.\n\n Out in the sunshine, far out in the lanes,\n Up on the hillsides, and over the plains,\n Springing to life in each meadow and glen,\n Filling the forests with sweetness again\u2014\n See how the flowers come trooping in glee,\n Decking the woodlands, adorning each tree,\n Climbing the mountain side, thronging the dell,\n Weaving o\u2019er all things a magical spell.\n\n All through the long frosty winter they slept,\n Nature above them her kind vigils kept;\n Snugly tucked into their beds soft and warm,\n Every sweet flower was safe from all storm.\n Spring, with her musical voice, is now heard\n Calling: \u201cGood morning,\u201d to flower and bird;\n Singing: \u201cAwaken, my darlings, \u2019t is time,\n Winter has gone to some far-distant clime.\n\n Come from the valley and hillside and glen,\u2014\n Birdlings now list for your footsteps again,\n Violet! May Flower! Snowdrop! my dears,\n Rouse and give welcome when robin appears.\n Summer is coming with sunshine and song,\n Life will be happiness all the day long.\n Haste! from your slumbers now brightly arouse,\n Shake out your garments and garland your brows!\u201d\n\n Swift at the sound of their loved leader\u2019s call,\n Leaped up the flowers by hillside and wall;\n Over the meadows and forests they wove\n Treasures of beauty; each woodland and grove\n Rang with the musical anthems of birds,\n Nature\u2019s rich music unwedded to words;\n While summer found earth so enchanting and sweet,\n She thought nothing lacking to make it complete.\n\n\n BABY NELLIE.\n\n Cunning little baby Nellie,\n With her laughing, sweet blue eyes,\n Gazing on the world around her\n In a wondering, deep surprise,\n As if asking in amazement,\n What do all these strange things mean?\n Ne\u2019er before such giant people,\n Or such places has she seen.\n\n For you see, my little children,\n Baby Nell has lately come\n From some far-off sunny Elf-land,\n To make this her future home:\n And so many things around her\n Seem so hard to understand,\n For such people and their doings\n Are not known in Baby-land.\n\n Now she catches at the sunbeam\n Gleaming on the snowy floor,\n Then she coos in smiling wonder\n At the vines around the door;\n And the little, spotted kitten\n Is a source of great delight\n To our charming baby Nellie,\u2014\n Winsome baby, sweet and bright.\n\n Through her tiny lips so rosy\n Peeps one tooth as white as milk,\n And her sunny, golden tresses\n Are as soft as finest silk;\n With her dimpled hands and fingers,\n And her little pink-white toes,\n She is just the fairest creature,\n Sweet and pure as any rose.\n\n Oh, she is our little darling,\n Sent to us by God above,\n As a token of his goodness,\n As a symbol of his love;\n And we prize our tiny treasure,\n For an angel sure must dwell,\n Undefiled and pure and spotless,\n In the form of baby Nell.\n\n\n A HAPPY NEW YEAR.\n\n New Year has come! New Year has come!\n Oh, children sweet and dear,\n And from our pleasant spirit home\n We\u2019ve seen its face appear;\n \u2019Tis fresh and clear, and full of smiles,\n And beaming o\u2019er with mirth,\n \u2019Tis bright with charming little wiles,\n To please old Mother-Earth.\n\n I know its happy hours dawn\n In sunbeams sweet and mild,\n That bring a story, or a song,\n To every laughing child;\n I know its hands are full of love\n For children sweet and dear,\n It comes in gladness from above,\n This gentle, bright New Year.\n\n Oh, it is full of work and play,\n To share with little boys\n And little girls, it comes your way,\n To bring you pleasant joys;\n And when you deeds of kindness show\n To others whom you meet,\n Its hours with happiness will glow\n All pure and rich and sweet.\n\n New Year has come! New Year has come!\n Oh, meet it children, dear,\n With shouts of welcome to your home\u2014\n This happy, glad New Year!\n Oh, smile upon it with your love,\n And make its life more sweet\u2014\n It is an angel from above\n To guide your little feet!\n\n\n SNOW DROPS.\n\n Beneath the coverlet of snow,\n Two little flowers learn to grow;\n Their cheeks are pale and white and fair,\n Their lips are sweet as summer air.\n At first they shiver in the cold,\n Then grow more fearless, calm and bold,\n To push aside the snowy sheet\n And lift their faces pure and sweet.\n\n One to the other gently speaks,\n As March winds blanch her tender cheeks:\n \u201cDear sister, it is cold today,\n But yet I think we here may stay;\n The earth is bleak, and dark and chill,\n All other flowers are sleeping still,\n But we\u2019ll remain awhile to sing\n In token of the coming spring.\u201d\n\n The sister softly makes reply:\n \u201cWe\u2019ll bloom together, you and I,\n And send our choicest perfume out\n To gladden mortals round about;\n I\u2019m sure they must be weary now\n Of winter\u2019s dismal, icy brow,\n And longing for the breath of flowers,\n So we will stay and offer ours.\u201d\n\n And so the dainty blossoms braved\n The snow and sleet, and only craved\n A tiny place to fill with bloom,\n And scatter forth their rich perfume;\n And many hearts that yearned for spring,\n And all the beauties she would bring,\n Gave blessing to the little flowers,\n As heralds of her fragrant hours.\n\n\n AN EVENING SONG.\n\n Rest, rest sweet hours of the day,\n Your moments, filled with toil and play,\n Have wandered far since morning\u2019s sun,\n But now their journeyings are done;\n Rest, precious hours, bright and fair,\n Let no rude touch of pain and care\n Disturb your well-earned calm repose,\n The world its friendship to you owes.\n\n Hail! peaceful hours of the night\n Attended by yon stars so bright,\n You come with quiet steps to earth,\n And silent tones of woe or mirth;\n We give you welcome, for you bring\n The balm of sleep upon your wing,\n With which to touch our weary eyes\n Until all sense of weakness flies.\n\n Oh, we are little children small,\n And yet we love the hours all,\u2014\n Those of the bright and shining day\n That fly in happiness away;\n And those that wander through the night\n To give us visions of delight,\n And show us in each pleasant dream\n The world where heavenly mansions gleam.\n\n\n CHILDREN.\n\n Everywhere we hear the voices\n Of the children, glad and free,\n Shouting, chatting, laughing, talking,\n Ringing out in merry glee;\n Everywhere we hear the patter\n Of their busy little feet,\n Romping over hills and meadows,\n Rushing through the city street.\n\n Everywhere we see the faces\n Of those little girls and boys,\n Who, in spite of care and trial,\n Are their parents\u2019 sweetest joys;\n Boys and girls that in the future\n Will be men and women too,\n Rulers of the sunny nation,\n Bright and active, grand and true.\n\n Little children, as you wander\n In your happy, careless moods,\n Through the snowy streets of winter,\n Or the pleasant summer woods;\n As you feel that in the future,\n When to manhood you have grown,\n You will seek for truth and wisdom,\n Seek to gain them for your own.\n\n Little children, pray remember\n That the love that holds you fast,\n Burning in your parents\u2019 bosoms,\n Will endure until the last;\n Seek to pay it back in kindness,\n Gentle smiles and loving words,\n Which will echo in their hearing\n Sweeter than the songs of birds.\n\n Little children, live in blessing\n Others with a word or smile,\n And the angel friends above you\n Will protect you all the while;\n Live by love and gentle kindness,\n Then the world will better grow,\n And rejoice that little people\n Such as you may dwell below.\n\n\n SNOW FLAKES.\n\n Softly falls the spotless snow,\u2014\n Flakes are flying everywhere,\n Like as many white-winged birds\n Speeding through the silent air;\n Down and down to earth they come,\n Full of mercy, full of love,\n Sent upon their mission forth,\n By our Father-God above.\n\n How they weave a garment bright,\n As they come in thick\u2019ning crowds;\n Weave a garment soft and light,\n White and fleecy as the clouds.\n Over all the fields it spreads,\n Tucking all the flowers in,\n Hushing them to sleep in beds,\n Far removed from earthly din.\n\n Thick and fast the snow-flakes fly,\n Giving every girl and boy,\n As they watch them flutter by,\n Glimpses of delight and joy.\n How they cover all the earth,\n Brown and gloomy, up from sight;\n How they deck each leafless tree\n With a garment fresh and white!\n\n Oh, we love the downy snow,\n \u2019Tis a messenger of love,\n Sent to grace the world below\n By our God who reigns above;\n Sent to keep the flowers warm\n Till the wintry storms are o\u2019er,\n And to gladden youthful hearts\n With their beauty evermore.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVI.\n A STORY FOR THE CHILDREN.\n\n\nIn the outskirts of a large city, a little way out in the cool and\npleasant country, there stands a little one-story house, which was once\npainted a light yellow, but which time and storm have turned to a dull,\nbrown color. A little plot of ground attached, shaded by one noble oak\ntree, seemed turned into a perfect fairy bower of red and gold and green\nand purple, when summer suns shone down upon its beds of blooming\nfour-o\u2019clocks, correopsis, and larkspurs, in their setting of dainty\nfoliage. All day long, the birds warbled or twittered to each other in\nthe tree-top, where a nest of young robins was safely hidden from the\nprying eyes of too curious school-boys. Such stores of wonderful seeds,\nbuds, and flowers did these birds know of at a no-distant place; such\ncherries and berries, which they could enjoy to their hearts\u2019 content,\nafter carefully providing for their half-famished young!\n\nBut of all the delightful spots these joyful birds had visited, not one\nseemed so suitable for their home as the plumy tops of this old oak\ntree, which cast its genial shade over the little old brown house, and\nhere a nest was built,\u2014five little, spotted eggs were carefully covered\nup by the mother-bird, which by-and-bye burst open and disclosed five\nlittle hungry bills, wide apart, gasping for food.\n\nWhat a happy summer was this! Father Robin bustling about, looking very\nimportant, bringing a dainty worm or toothsome berry to feed his\nchildren upon, or perching upon the topmost bough of the tree, and\nfilling the air with the music of his joyful songs; while the dainty,\ncareful mother, prudent Mrs. Jenny, anxiously watched her little ones,\nlest some harm should come to them, or talked to them in her quaint\nbird-fashion, with now and then a little chirp of encouragement, when\none would attempt to try its wings for a tiny flight amid the leaves.\n\nBut I have something to tell you about the inmates of the little old\nbrown house, which contained two tiny rooms, a kitchen and a bed-room.\nThe floors of these rooms were always white and shining; pretty pink\ncurtains hung at the windows, a few chairs, a table and a little stove\nwere in the outer room; while the inner apartment contained a neat,\nwhite bed, a stand, and one chair.\n\nBut two persons lived in this little home,\u2014a pale, delicate woman, who\nwas stitching her life away by constant sewing (for she made cheap\nclothing for a firm in the big city),\u2014and a little girl about six years\nold. This little girl had bright blue eyes, and brown, curling hair; her\nname was Fannie, and she lived here alone with her dear mamma. Fannie\u2019s\npapa had been in the spirit world for three years, and her mamma was\nobliged to do the sewing in order to earn bread and shelter for herself\nand little one.\n\nLittle Fannie used to help her dear mamma by threading needles, sewing\ntags on the work,\u2014tags are tickets with the number of the garment\nwritten on them,\u2014and picking up the litter on the floor.\n\nFannie Davis was a very happy little girl; she had but few toys, and\nthese were old, nearly worn-out playthings, which had seen better days;\nbut she loved to play in the little garden, and watch the flowers,\npulling out old weeds and picking the flower-seeds as they ripened. She\nwould listen to the birds for hours, and talk to them in her childish\nway. They were her companions, for she had no playmates, and it was a\nhappy summer for this little girl when the robins built their nest in\nthe old tree.\n\nBut, alas, a terrible storm of wind and rain came one night, and brought\ndisaster to the birdies\u2019 home. The nest became detached from its\nfastenings and fell, catching upon a lower branch of the tree. The old\nbirds were not harmed, but two of their young ones were killed, and\nanother was lying on the ground with a broken wing. In this condition\nlittle Fannie found them in the morning, when the storm had disappeared\nand the sun was shining bright. Poor little thing, how she cried as she\nburied the two tiny birds in the garden, and placed a handful of her\nchoicest flowers upon their grave. The little wounded bird she carried\ninto the house, her mother tied up its broken wing with a cotton string,\nand fed it with bread-crumbs. Fannie made a little, soft nest for the\nbird from some pieces of old linen, and kept it until it was strong and\nwell, when she let it go again out into the bright world to find its\nparents, its two brother birdies, and its nest repaired and straightened\nin the old tree.\n\nBut something really wonderful\u2014so it appeared to the little\ngirl\u2014happened. While the poor little bird had remained a wounded\nprisoner under Fannie\u2019s care, it had become very tame and would eat its\nfood from her hand, and now that it had grown strong and well, the\nlittle girl felt sad at losing her friend; for she felt that she could\nno longer keep him and pet and feed him as she once did.\n\nBut I think little birds are grateful creatures; they do not forget a\nkindness. In the warm summer weather Mrs. Davis always left the window\nopen at night, that fresh air might enter her dwelling; and you may\njudge of Fannie\u2019s delight to find her little bird entering the house\nevery morning. He would perch upon her shoulder, eat seeds or crumbs\nfrom her mouth and hand, and chirp and warble his little songs to her in\nan ecstasy of glee. Every morning regularly did this occur; the bird\nwould enter the open window, remain about half an hour to delight his\nbenefactress, and then soar away to his home on the tree-top, or to\nother pleasant places in the neighborhood.\n\nOne bright, pleasant day in August, as little Fannie sat playing with\nher flowers and pebbles in the garden, she espied the face of a little\nboy, framed in by a mass of sunny-brown hair, and half covered\u2014as if\nfrom shyness\u2014with a white straw hat, bound with a bright blue ribbon,\nupon the other side of the fence. The stranger was peeping at her with\nsparkling, roguish brown eyes, and seemed half inclined to speak.\n\nSpringing from the ground, Fannie opened the gate and called: \u201cWould you\nlike to come in here and see my flowers, little boy?\u201d\n\nThe stranger smiled and advanced, and in a few minutes was chatting with\nour little girl as though he had always known her. He told her his name\nwas Franklin Hedge, that he lived in a beautiful, large, white house\never so far away,\u2014the \u201cever so far\u201d was about two miles farther into the\ncountry,\u2014that he had a dear mamma, and a splendid papa, with big, black\nwhiskers; that he had no brothers and sisters, but he guessed God was\ngoing to bring him a little sister soon, cause he had asked for one so\nmany times; that he had horses and carriages and playthings, \u201cand the\n_biggest garden_, with all kinds of flowers growing in it.\u201d He was out\nriding with his teacher today, and his teacher had let him play outside\nwhile she went into a house to see a sick friend; it was only a little\nways off, and he had strayed this way while waiting for her.\n\nTo all this Fannie listened with breathless delight; she had never seen\nsuch wonderful things as this little boy said he owned; he looked so\ncool and pretty in his spotless white suit, and seemed so kind, so\ndifferent from the boys she had seen throwing stones, that he seemed\nlike an angel from another world.\n\nFor an hour these two children chatted and played in the garden; Fannie\nshowing Frankie how to make necklaces of flowers and stems, and Frankie\ninitiating Fannie into some of the mysteries of boyish games. Once, Mrs.\nDavis called to know who Fannie was playing with, but the little girl\nsatisfied her mother about that, and returned to her new friend,\nbringing a glass of fresh milk which he drank with much enjoyment.\n\nBut all pleasant things seem to have an end on earth, and pretty soon\nthese friends were called upon to part. A carriage, drawn by a sleek\nwhite horse, and driven by a lady, appeared coming up the road. Frankie\nrecognized his teacher, who was looking anxiously up and down the road,\nand kissing Fannie Davis good-bye, ran out to meet her; he was lifted\ninto the carriage, and in a few moments whirled from sight.\n\nFor many long weeks after this day, Fannie talked constantly of her\nlittle friend Frankie, and wondered when he would come to see her again;\nbut the weeks deepened into months, the flowers drooped their heads and\nwithered away, leaving only dry, brown seeds, which the little girl\ncarefully gathered and laid away; the leaves drifted from the old oak\ntree, leaving the branches brown and bare; the robin\u2019s nest was\ndeserted, for all the birds had flown away to a sunnier, warmer clime,\nto spend the winter; and still Frankie did not come. Fannie could not\nplay out in the garden now, except for a little while on the sunniest\ndays; she missed the morning greeting of her little pet robin sadly, but\nshe liked to think of him as happy in some warmer place, and to look\nforward to the coming spring, when he would return to the old tree.\n\nMrs. Davis had been growing paler and thinner all summer; a bad cough\nfrequently racked her frame, and distressing pains in the side gave her\ngreat uneasiness. It was now a difficult task to carry her work to and\nfro to the shop in the city; yet she felt it must be done, and there was\nno one to do it but herself. Upon the scanty proceeds of her toil\ndepended the existence of herself and little one. For herself she did\nnot mind so much; but for her little girl she was all anxiety.\n\nA kind-hearted doctor, who lived in the vicinity of the little old brown\nhouse, called in occasionally, leaving some dark mixture in a bottle,\nwhich the patient woman took with the hope of gaining strength; but the\ndays and weeks flew by, bringing but little relief.\n\nWinter was almost at hand; Mrs. Davis had been unable to provide for its\napproach, and she knew not what to do. At last she had been forced to\ngive up her work. She had but a little wood, flour, and meal in the\nhouse; the snow came drifting down, at first very slowly, but soon\nincreased in rapidity, until at last the ground was covered with a\ncarpet so pure and spotless and clear that even angel feet might tread\nupon it; yet bitterly cold and uncomfortable to the poor, bare,\nsuffering feet of those mortals who are without clothing and fire.\n\nDown, down came the feathery snow; darkness fell upon the silent house;\nlittle Fannie crept to her mother\u2019s side beneath the bed-covering, and\nwas clasped in her tender arms. Sweet sleep visited the child; but none\ncame to bless the weary eyes of the dying mother; for now the poor woman\nknew the truth,\u2014her hours on earth were numbered. Oh, how she prayed for\nthe good doctor to come and visit her; but he was far away by the side\nof another sick and suffering one, and knew not of her desire. Only one\nthought possessed the mind of the sleepless woman,\u2014the future welfare of\nher little girl. If she could be satisfied of this, she would be content\nto pass to the spirit world, where she knew her dear husband was waiting\nto welcome her.\n\nThe storm passed with the night; the morning sun shone upon the\nsnow-covered home of our friends, and streamed in upon a little group\ngathered around the bed of Mrs. Davis: little Fannie weeping pitifully,\nand clinging to the cold, lifeless hand of that form that had once\ncontained the spirit of her mother; the good, kind doctor, whom I have\nspoken of, and a beautiful lady robed in mourning garments, with a face\nas pale as the face of the dead.\n\nMrs. Davis had passed away peacefully, for the doctor had assured her\nthat her little one should be taken care of. He was now preparing to\nleave, to send some one to look after the house, and prepare for the\nfuneral service of the departed.\n\nYou will remember the little boy, Frankie Hedge, who spent a pleasant\nhour in the garden of the little brown house, one sunny summer day, in\ncompany with little Fannie. Well, Frankie had not forgotten his little\nplaymate of an hour; many times would he speak of her to his mamma and\npapa, and they had promised him that when he returned from the sea-side,\nwhere he was going with them for a few weeks, he should again see the\nlittle girl he had taken such a liking to.\n\nBut, alas, Frankie Hedge, who went to the sea-side a strong and happy\nboy of eight years, returned at the end of six weeks a pale and helpless\ninvalid. Frequent bathing in the ocean spray, and remaining in the water\ntoo long at a time, weakened his constitution to such a degree that when\na chill seized him one cloudy morning, while splashing about with his\ncompanions in the water, it was with the utmost difficulty he was\nbrought to land in a senseless condition. From that time he weakened and\npined away; all that human love or physician\u2019s skill could do was done,\nbut without avail; and now, when the December winds howled about the\nsplendid residence of his father, he lay panting and moaning, his face\nas white as the snowy pillows upon which it rested, and his eyes grown\nlarge and sorrowful, seeking rest and strength from the gentle face of\nhis mother, who bent above him.\n\nOften, in his hours of illness, had he spoken to his parents of little\nFannie Davis, telling of the many fine times he meant to have with her\nwhen he got well; but now he knew he should never get stronger in this\nworld, and so it was that on this cold December evening, when the snow\nwas flying thick and fast without, and the gentle, subdued light of the\nsick chamber fell upon the costly furniture, the rosy curtains, the\nsilver ornaments of the mantel, lighting them up with a mellow glow, and\nshining upon the pallid faces of the anxious parents, Frankie entreated\nhis mother to go for Fannie Davis, and bring her to him.\n\nKind Dr. May, who was in attendance, said he knew the little girl and\nher poor, sick mamma, and he would go for her himself. But this would\nnot do; nothing would pacify the sick child until his mother promised\nthat in the morning she would go in the sleigh with the good doctor,\nfind Fannie, and bring her to Frankie\u2019s side.\n\n\u201cOh, I am so glad, mamma,\u201d said the child; \u201cthere is a nice, tall man\nhere, and he is so glad too. I saw him that day in the garden where\nFannie lives; he told me he was Fannie\u2019s father. He says pretty soon\nFannie will have no mamma on earth. Do bring her here, mamma, and\nperhaps when she has no mamma, and you have no little boy, she will be\nyour little girl, and stay with you forever; \u2019cause I will be will be\nwith the angels; but I will come to see you sometimes.\u201d\n\nAfter this the child fell asleep, and in the morning, when the sun was\nshining on the freshly-fallen snow, Mrs. Hedge was taken in the doctor\u2019s\nsleigh to the home of Fannie Davis; and that is how they found the dying\nwoman and the weeping child.\n\nKind, gentle Mrs. Hedge found it impossible to persuade little Fannie to\nleave her mother\u2019s side; so after the spirit of the suffering woman had\npassed peacefully away, she was obliged to return to her home, leaving\nthe little girl in charge of a good woman whom the doctor had found to\nremain with and care for her, until after the funeral of the body of\nMrs. Davis; for it is only the body, dear children, that has to be laid\naway from sight; the real person lives, and is not cold and senseless;\nbut if he or she has been good, happiness is theirs, and they find a\nbeautiful, sweet home in company with their dear friends. Mrs. Davis had\nmet her dear husband and parents, and found a bright home awaiting her,\nbut she had not forsaken nor forgotten her little girl, who was left on\nthe earth seemingly alone.\n\nFrankie Hedge expressed no feeling of disappointment when his mother\nreturned without Fannie. \u201cI knew she wouldn\u2019t come,\u201d said he to her as\nshe entered the room, after removing her rich cloak and furs. \u201cI told\npapa she wouldn\u2019t come. I saw her papa again a few moments ago, and\nthere was a lady with him with such a sweet, pretty face. It made me\nthink of you, mamma, it looked so kind and good, and then I knew\nFannie\u2019s mamma was dead and that was her.\u201d Mrs. Hedge kissed her little\nboy, and said she thought Fannie would come by-and-bye, after the\nfuneral of her mother\u2019s body. \u201cOh, yes, she will come, mamma; her papa\ntold me so, and I can wait, because I\u2019m not going to leave you for some\ntime yet. I saw dear grandma last night, and she kissed me and said:\n\u2018Not till the March winds blow, my lamb, will we be ready to take you to\nour spirit home.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe eyes of the listening parents filled with tears; they knew their\ndarling was traveling fast to the Summer-land, yet they did not grieve\nas some people grieve when their loved ones pass away; for they knew he\ncould come back to them. They did not think he was dreaming, as the\ndoctor did, when he talked of seeing Fannie\u2019s papa and his own grandma,\nbecause they knew the angels are ever around striving to make their\npresence known to their friends.\n\nIn three days Fannie Davis was brought to the home of Frankie Hedge.\nPoor little thing! how her eyes lighted up at the sight of the little\nboy waiting anxiously to receive her. What an affectionate meeting was\nthis! You would have thought it a meeting between a long-lost brother\nand sister; but the angels knew and understood. Both children had\nchanged since that long past summer day when they met and parted. For\nwhile Frankie had grown pale and wan from pain and weakness, Fannie had\nlost her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes from long confinement and grief\nfrom the illness and death of her mother.\n\nNothing would satisfy Frankie Hedge now but a promise that Fannie should\nstay with him while he remained in the body, and this desire was\ngranted.\n\nSorrow of her own had filled the heart of Mrs. Hedge with pity and\nsympathy, which soon grew into love for the little orphan; and Mr.\nHedge, who declared Fannie looked very much like a little sister of his\nwho passed away many years ago, took her into his heart at once.\n\nA little room, opening off the hall where Frankie\u2019s chamber was\nsituated, was fitted up for little Fannie. A beautiful carpet of blue\nground, with white lilies strewn upon it, covered the floor; a tiny bed\nof spotless linen and lace, pretty furniture of blue and white, a few\npretty pictures upon the pink-tinted walls, and blue and white curtains\nat the window, completed the furnishing of the room. This apartment was\na continued charm to our little girl. Never in her life had she beheld\nanything so beautiful, and she would sometimes hold her breath and pinch\nher arm, to see if she was not dreaming.\n\nMrs. Hedge had undertaken also to clothe the child, not in somber\ngarments of black, but in dainty dresses of creamy white cashmere, which\nfilled her spirit with delight, and made her wish for her mamma to come\nback and see her.\n\nThe two children were constant companions now during the day, save when\nFannie was absent at her meals, or taken out for an airing by Frankie\u2019s\ngoverness. Dr. May declared Frankie very much improved since Fannie\ncame, and Mr. and Mrs. Hedge began to hope that health and strength\nwould soon return to him.\n\nWhat famous times the children had together! Frankie possessed numerous\ntoys and picture-books, which were a source of never-failing delight to\nthe little girl; besides, he would tell her of the places where he had\nbeen, and things he had seen, until her little eyes would grow round\nwith wonder and pleasure. But best of all would she love to listen to\nhim, as he told of the visits of her mamma and papa, and his own\ngrandmamma to his bedside, and what they said to him; and she would\nwish, oh, so much, that she could see and hear them too, and it made her\nvery happy to learn that her mamma and papa were happy in a sweet home,\nand they came back every day to Frankie, to send their love to their\nlittle girl.\n\nSo time sped rapidly away, and it was soon the first of February. The\nclear, white frost covered the ground, which shone in the beautiful\nsunlight of morning, or the glittering moonlight of evening, like\ncountless sparks of brilliant light. All was fair, calm, and serene.\nWithin doors it was the same; not a breath of discord, not a ripple of\ninharmony came to disturb the quiet peace of that little household.\n\nA beautiful cabinet-organ stood in the recess of Frankie\u2019s room, and\nsometimes, when the twilight fell, the little boy would ask his mamma\nnot to have the gas lighted, but to play on the organ; and as the quiet\nshadows of early evening fell, the good lady would play softly and\nsweetly to the listening ears of the delighted children. At this hour\nthe presence of the angels became visible to Frankie, and he would talk\nwith them, as though they were in the body.\n\nOne evening, about the middle of the month, Mrs. Hedge sat in a large\neasy-chair, holding her little boy in her lap; he had been very restless\nand uneasy all day, and to soothe him into quiet his mother had taken\nhim in her arms. Little Fannie sat a short distance from them, her soft,\nblue eyes fixed in a dreamy gaze. Mr. Hedge had just come in, and stood\nlooking sadly down upon his suffering child.\n\nSuddenly, Fannie arose, passed to the organ, seated herself upon the\nstool, and began running her fingers over the keys, producing a soft,\nsweet melody. Presently she began to sing a beautiful song, still\nplaying an accompaniment to the words.\n\nFrankie\u2019s parents were astonished beyond measure, even while delighted\nat this wonderful performance of the little girl, who had never played a\nnote upon any musical instrument in her life; but the little boy himself\nviewed the scene with calmness and pleasure. Afterward, he told them all\nthat he had seen a beautiful lady touch Fannie by the hand, lead her to\nthe organ, and guide her fingers over the keys.\n\nThe song which Fannie sang Mrs. Hedge recognized as a favorite air of a\nvery dear sister of hers, who had long since passed to the spirit world,\nand by the description her little boy gave of the lady he saw at\nFannie\u2019s side, she was convinced that it was really her sister, come\nback to sing to her once again.\n\nEvery evening after this would the sweet spirit come, take control of\nthe little girl, and sing and play to her delighted listeners; Frankie\nnever failing to see and speak to her, as well as other spirits present,\nand to convey to his parents the messages of love and consolation they\nwould bring. It seemed as though heaven had indeed come down to that\nsick chamber, and that angels dwelt within the home.\n\nThese were sad but happy days for Mr. and Mrs. Hedge. They now knew that\nnothing\u2014not even their great love\u2014could keep their little boy in the\nbody; his strength was failing fast, but his spirit powers were gaining\nso rapidly that he could see the angels at any time. Many a sacred hour\ndid the parents spend in communion with their spirit friends through the\npowers of these two children brought so strangely together; and even\nwhile they sorrowed to part with their darling, they rejoiced to know\nthat he would be happy in the spirit world, where they would some day\njoin him, and that while they remained on earth he would return to\ncomfort and bless them.\n\nFrankie himself was perfectly calm and happy in all but one thing; he\nwas troubled and perplexed about his little friend Fannie; it was\nstrange how these children had become attached to each other. Fannie,\nwho had always been an active little girl, would sit upon the side of\nthe bed for hours at a time, holding Frankie\u2019s hand, and talk or sing to\nhim until he fell asleep, or it was time for her to leave him for her\nfood or walk.\n\nAs yet, the little boy had not mentioned his trouble to anyone: but at\nlength, as the end drew near, he resolved to do so. It was evening, the\ncurtains were drawn, and the mellow light shone through the gas-globes.\nThe children had kissed each other \u201cgood night,\u201d and Fannie had retired\nto her rest. Mr. and Mrs. Hedge were sitting with their sick boy; the\nnurse and physician had retired, and all was quiet throughout the house.\n\n\u201cMamma and papa,\u201d said the child, \u201cthere is one thing I want so much, so\nmuch; I am going to leave you very soon now; grandma told me this\nmorning she would soon come for me; but I want you to promise me\nsomething before I go.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it, my darling?\u201d asked his mother, as she kissed his pale brow.\n\n\u201cI want you to keep Fannie always with you, and let her be your little\ngirl. She will be your comfort. The spirits want this, too; I think they\nsent me to her last summer, and they brought her to us. Please, mamma\nand papa, say she may always stay here with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, dear,\u201d answered the father, \u201cyour mamma and I decided this some\ntime ago. We can never part with the little one willingly. She is too\nprecious to us, and she has been too dear to our little boy for us to\nlet her go from us.\u201d\n\nA smile of joy flashed over the child\u2019s features; he was at rest now;\nnothing else could disturb him, for he was near the gates of the\nSummer-land. His little friend was to be cared for; that was all he\ncould desire. With a loving kiss and grateful glance to his dear\nparents, he sank into a sweet and dreamless sleep.\n\nThe March winds came and whistled around the old, stately house; the\nwhite snow still lay upon the ground. It had been an unusually cold\nwinter; many poor souls had felt the biting blast; but little Fannie\nDavis, cared for by loving friends and guardian spirits, had been\nmercifully protected from all want and suffering.\n\nIt was twilight,\u2014the angel\u2019s hour in that home of wealth and splendor.\nMr. and Mrs. Hedge, good doctor May, the gentle old nurse, and little\nFannie Davis were gathered around the couch of the child whose mortal\nlife was fast ebbing away. But there was a far larger company gathered\nin that silent room,\u2014angelic beings came to take the loved one home, and\nthese the eyes of the child watched with solemn delight. Calmly,\nsweetly, gently, his soul passed out from the body, to be met by loving\nwelcome, and borne to the blooming bowers of Summer-land, where all is\nbeauty, gladness, and joy.\n\nTender hands robed the little form of clay in garments of spotless\nwhite, adorned it with rare and fragrant flowers, and with many caresses\nand tears, consigned it to its last resting-place. But the little boy,\nFrankie, now glad and strong and free, still lived in a beautiful home,\nfrom which he could return to those he loved.\n\nThree days after the burial of the body, Mr. and Mrs. Hedge were seated\ntogether, conversing sadly of the late events. Little Fannie, who was\npresent, seemed to pay no attention to their conversation; the poor\nchild had grown strangely silent and sad of late, for she missed her\nlittle companion more than tongue can tell.\n\nSuddenly her form straightened, her eyes brightened, and a smile spread\nover her features. \u201cOh, Frankie, Frankie,\u201d she exclaimed; \u201che is\nhere\u2014see! see! How good and bright he looks!\u201d\n\nIn a moment her eyes closed, her features changed, and passing to the\nside of the sofa, where the elder parties were seated, she embraced them\nfondly, and in Frankie\u2019s well-known tones addressed them, telling of his\npleasure, his beautiful home, how well and strong he had grown; telling\nof the dear ones with him, and expressing his delight at the opportunity\nof returning to his dear, dear parents.\n\nWhat a happy hour was this!\u2014their dear one returning to speak to them.\nTears of joy fell from their eyes, and the sorrowing parents were lead\nto rejoice in the goodness and mercy of our Father in Heaven.\n\nOften after this was the scene repeated; almost daily, Frankie would\nreturn, and control little Fannie to speak to his father and mother;\nmany times he appeared to the little girl, and the children would play\ntogether, as though both were in the form; so that loneliness and sorrow\nvanished from the hearts of all, and it indeed seemed that their dear\none had never died.\n\nMr. and Mrs. Hedge never had cause to regret adopting Fannie Davis; she\nwas the light and life of their household, through whom the angels came\nand ministered to weary hearts. Many a life has been comforted, many a\nhome brightened by the messages of love, hope, and cheer, given through\nher organism by good spirits. She is now a young lady,\u2014sweet, gentle,\nand lovable,\u2014whose purest happiness comes to her life when she is\ncomforting the sad, and assisting the needy. Spirit Frankie, with her\nown dear father and mother, and many other angels, guard and guide her\non in her useful mission of helpfulness and love. Thus, you may see,\ndear children, how the angels ever care for those in need.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVII.\n THE CHILDREN OF THE SUMMER-LAND.\n\n\nI think the dear little boys and girls in earth life would like to know\nsomething about the children who live in the bright Summer-land; and so\nI am going to tell them about the little ones I have seen in that sweet\ncountry, and the pretty places where they live.\n\nFirst, my little friends, I will tell you of the beautiful place which\nwe call Lily-Vale. It is a pretty spot where flowers bloom all the time,\nand where birds sing and carol in their merry way to please the children\nwho live and go to school there. A large lake of clear water is in the\ncenter of Lily-Vale; all around its shores great trees grow, and their\nhuge branches, trimmed with glossy green leaves, throw a pleasant shade\nupon the water, so that it looks like a large, green, shining jewel.\nLittle white boats, some of them in the shape of swans, and others\nfashioned in the form of various shells, ride upon the lake, and it is\nthe delight of the scholars who dwell here to be allowed, as they often\nare, to sail in these tiny \u201cfloats,\u201d as we call them, under the care of\ntheir teacher or guardian friend.\n\nThey gather together in parties upon the lake shore, a guide and two\nchildren entering each boat, and shoot off across the water to enjoy the\ncalm breeze and delicious, gliding motion of the skiffs, and at the same\ntime to learn lessons concerning the nature, qualities, and uses of\nwater, and the laws of motion as connected with the flow of waves. The\nmanner of learning about these things is different in the Summer-land\nthan on earth, and I fear my little mortal friends would not understand\ndid I attempt to explain it.\n\nWell, sometimes there may be seen from twenty to thirty floats, each\ncontaining three persons,\u2014a teacher and two children,\u2014upon the bosom of\nthe lake. Today the parties may be content to just move quietly along\nupon the water, and tomorrow they may rapidly glide to some distant part\nof Lily-Vale, there to enjoy a picnic ramble, perhaps, in Maple Grove or\nWoody Glen,\u2014two favorite places of resort for the scholars,\u2014and to\ngather information concerning botany and the other branches of natural\nhistory. I am sure my little readers would like to sail upon the lake of\nwhich I write, and to make one of the happy, joyous party of children\nwho never quarrel, but are always gentle, affectionate, and deferential\nto their teachers and one another.\n\nBut I must tell you something more of the valley called Lily-Vale, named\nthus because its very fine, velvet-like grass, or sward, is dotted with\nfragrant, beautiful lilies. These sweet flowers are the delight of the\nchildren, and the pride of the teachers\u2019 hearts, and they make the place\none great bower of fragrance and beauty.\n\nTall and massive trees uprear their heads in this place, scattered\napart, and in groves, and beneath their luxuriant shade scholar and\nteacher alike spend many a happy hour with lesson and task. Other\nflowers beside the lily also grow here, and the little ones are never\nwearied in tending to them, or watching their growth from day to day.\nThe sun shines brightly upon all things; and when the plants or flowers\nor trees need moisture, the showers come,\u2014not in great, heavy raindrops,\nbut in fine sheets of silvery spray, which moisten all things without\ndrenching them, and through which may be seen a mild, yellow light which\ncomes from the sun above the fleecy clouds.\n\nIn the distance\u2014for Lily-Vale is not a small place\u2014may be seen great\ntowering mountains, encircling the valley; their shining heads, which\nglow in the sunlight with purple and rosy hues, looking like radiant\nguides watching over the little folks below them, are fair to gaze upon,\nand many a lesson of firmness, fidelity, and truth do the children learn\nfrom the sight of those faithful sentinels of Lily-Vale.\n\nAnd now, my little friends, you wish to know how the children live in\nthis pretty spot. Well, they live very much as you do in your earthly\nhomes, only many of them do not live with their mammas and papas\u2014because\nperhaps the parents are on earth, or have gone away and forgotten their\nlittle ones, or for some other reason\u2014but reside with their teachers or\nguides, who are always kind, loving, and attentive to the little people\nunder their charge.\n\nIn this sweet place there are a number of little white houses, some\nsmaller than others,\u2014because the number of inmates of some are less than\nof others,\u2014and in these houses the children live. These houses, or\n\u201cRhonas,\u201d are all round like pavilions, and have entrances on every\nside; the windows open like doors from floor to ceiling, and are\ngenerally open wide. The columns, or posts, of the \u201cRhonas\u201d are entwined\nwith growing vines, which throw out their purple, pink, golden, or\nscarlet blossoms to catch the gentle breeze. The insides of the houses\nare furnished prettily but simply, and all look neat, tasteful, and\nsweet, just as little children\u2019s homes always should; for the\nsurroundings of a child have a great deal to do with forming its\ncharacter and disposition, as well as with developing its tastes.\n\nBooks, pictures, music, and everything beautiful, are to be found in the\nlittle homes of Lily-Vale, and all who dwell there live in harmony with\none another; the children are obedient and affectionate toward the\nteachers, who in turn are respectful, loving, and tender toward their\npupils. The older scholars assist in training and caring for the\nyounger, and all are happy in this Summer-land home.\n\nTeachers in the spirit world do not have charge of so many children as\ntutors do on earth. No teacher has more than seven pupils under her\ncharge, and many have only one or two; for they believe that by having\nbut a few scholars they can better attend to the training of mind and\nbody than they could if they had many to look after, as in that case\nsome portion of the training would be sure to be neglected.\n\nSometimes the pupils of each teacher learn their lessons in their homes,\nbut often they may be seen in the open air, under the trees, in the\ngroves, by the lakeside, or elsewhere, busily employed over their\nstudies and gaining practical knowledge from the various objects around\nthem.\n\nBut there is a beautiful and grand building in Lily-Vale, called \u201cThe\nTemple of Art,\u201d which I must tell you of; for it is so spacious and\nlofty, and fashioned of such a shining white, almost transparent,\nsubstance that it can be seen from a far distance, and excites the\nwonder as well as admiration of all who gaze upon it.\n\nThis beautiful building has no side-walls, but is open all around, its\nroof being supported by heavy columns of white, shining stone. Its\nceiling is carved and tinted to resemble the blue sky; its floor is of\nmany-colored stones, laid in circles; in the center, a large fountain of\nsilvery white constantly sends forth fan-like shapes of perfumed spray;\nall around the interior of the temple are soft-cushioned seats, but at\nthe farther end is a raised platform, where the Masters of Art sit when\nthey come to instruct the children.\n\nAt regular intervals of time, the children of Lily-Vale gather in this\ntemple to receive instruction in music, painting, sculpture, or some\nother art, for all the children do not learn the same thing. Some love\nmusic and acquire a ready knowledge of it, but do not easily learn the\nart of painting; others care nothing for music, but are eager to learn\nhow to paint, or carve, or do something else; and as each one is not\nobliged to study those things for which he or she has no taste, but is\nallowed to gain a knowledge of that which they desire to know, Lily-Vale\nis full of bright and apt scholars, who are a credit to themselves and\nto their instructors. When the scholars or classes for any particular\nstudy convene in the Art Temple, they are addressed by some great and\ngood person who gave special attention to that study when on earth,\nunderstands it thoroughly, and now delights to teach the children\nsomething of his knowledge, and assist in drawing out the powers within\nthem, better than he does to compose a choral, paint a picture, carve a\nstatue, or sing a poem of his own; and the little ones listen\nattentively, retaining the information they receive in their minds,\nwhich later on they seek to work out in experiments for themselves. The\nexhibitions of paintings and statues sometimes made in this temple are\nvery grand; the concerts heard sometimes are very sweet and beautiful,\nand the music that rings out from this place is more delightful than\nanything you can ever hear on earth.\n\nAnd so here, in this charming spot, little children live, and grow, and\nthrive. They play and work, live happily together, grow in goodness and\nstature day by day, and learn to be truthful and earnest in their lives,\nin their studies and occupations, that they may be noble, honest,\nearnest men and women by-and-bye.\n\nThere is a beautiful spot in the Summer-land which I shall call\nCrystal-Lake. This resort is not like Lily-Vale, for it is smaller, more\nshallow, and in other respects quite different. Crystal-Lake is\nsurrounded by banks of moss, green and cool, which afford soft-cushioned\nseats to the little children who come to play and frolic. In every\ndirection trees uplift their branches toward the blue sky, flowers bloom\nand birds sing, making the place beautiful and gay and very sweet. But I\nmust tell you, dear children of earth, of one peculiarity of\nCrystal-Lake, and that is this: the waters of that clear and sparkling\nbasin are never still, but are continuously ruffled by the breezes that\npass over them; and as the tiny waves move softly to and fro, they\nproduce low, singing tones, like the tinkling of silver bells, which are\nvery sweet and musical, and the constant delight of all who listen to\nthem. This peculiarity of Crystal-Lake has earned for it the name of\n\u201cChiming Waves,\u201d the sound which the waters make being much like what\nthe chime of a cluster of small silver bells would be. The surface of\nthis lake is so clear, and its bed so near, that the latter glistens in\nthe bright sunshine with many colors, and presents the appearance of a\nfloor sparkling with precious gems of every hue, rendering it a\nbeautiful sight to gaze upon.\n\nUnder the trees which surround Crystal-Lake, and in the open spaces\nbetween them, are to be found all manner of appliances for the exercise\nof the children who daily gather here; swings and bells, swinging clubs\nand rebounding balls; \u201c\u00e6rial glides,\u201d which are a kind of balloon or\nair-car, and many other things which the children of earth know nothing\nof, all for the amusement and development of the children; for in spirit\nlife all amusement is combined with utility, and all recreation so\nplanned as to assist in the development of the body as well as the\nexpansion of the mind.\n\nThe waters of Crystal-Lake are used mostly for bathing purposes for the\nchildren, who love to glide through them and enjoy the delicious\ncoolness while listening to the songs of the waves; and a pretty sight\nmay be daily seen in this place when numbers of tiny children, none of\nthem more than ten years of age, are sporting in the water and filling\nthe rose-tinted air with the music of their shouts and laughter.\n\nCrystal-Lake and its vicinity is what we call a large sanitarium,\u2014that\nis, a place where health may be found, where no one can be sick and\nweak. All who live here in the little white houses, that are numerous,\nnever know what it is to be feeble, but are strong, active, and happy;\nfor perfect health brings enjoyment with it.\n\nThere are a great many of these beautiful sanitariums in the spirit\nworld, and they are not all for the children; many of them are for grown\npeople, who require care. But these we will not now visit, as our work\nis entirely with the little children of the Summer-land.\n\nI suppose, my dears, you have seen some little children on earth who are\nsick and feeble, and who are never strong and well; and perhaps you have\nheard that these poor suffering darlings have passed from earth, and\ntheir bodies been buried away from sight. Well, it is just such children\nas those suffering ones who are taken to the pleasant sanitariums, like\nthat of Crystal-Lake, in the Summer-land, and there, in those beautiful\nplaces, they grow well and strong and happy, and are never sick nor\nmiserable any more. Perhaps their papas and mammas on earth were very\npoor, and the little ones were not provided with anything bright and\npretty when in the body; then they are very happy and joyous when they\nfind themselves in this sweet home, and are able to appreciate and enjoy\nall its beauties. Indeed, no matter how poor, or in what lowly\ncircumstances the little sick children have lived on earth, they are all\njust as tenderly cared for and loved, and provided with just as\nbeautiful surroundings as though they had been the petted children of\nvery wealthy parents, and their little hearts soon learn to respond in\nlove; for there are no distinctions among the children of the sweet\nSummer-land,\u2014all are equally cared for.\n\nPerhaps, my dears, you have heard of little children on the earth who\nhave been neglected by everyone, and obliged to wander around the world\nby themselves, unloved and uncared for. Sometimes such children die and\nare taken to the spirit world. They are little pallid, tired things, who\nneed to be strengthened and made happy; and they are placed in the\nbright sanitariums, given plenty of fresh air and pure sunlight, their\nlimbs are bathed in the clear water, they are allowed to play and romp\nand sing; they use the various contrivances for amusement and exercise,\nand in a little while present an appearance of perfect health and\nhappiness.\n\nThe kindest of mother-nurses are in these places, who love and pet the\nlittle ones under their care to their heart\u2019s content. They never have\nto give the children medicine, for it is not known nor required here.\nThey never have to punish them, for there is so much love and kindness\nhere it is a pleasure, and it is very easy, for the children to be\nalways gentle and good.\n\nThose sanitariums, like Crystal-Lake, which is a great garden of flowers\nand trees and birds, with a charming musical basin of water in its\ncenter, where everything is sweet and beautiful, and where it is\ndelightful to live and enjoy the freedom of real existence, are the only\nkind of children\u2019s hospitals I have ever heard of in the Summer-land;\nand they are the brightest, healthiest, most enchanting spots I have\never visited. The children who live there are real children,\u2014natural,\nartless, innocent, happy, and free.\n\nHappy Valley is the name of another beautiful place in the Summer-land,\nwhere children live. As its name implies, it is a valley; for great\ngreen hills surround and hedge it in, and it lies like a bright and\nsparkling jewel within the sweet embrace of those wooded heights which\nmay be seen from its every point of view. The hills around the valley\nare covered with groves of shady trees, the green foliage of which gives\na restful, cool, and inviting sight to the eye that gazes upon them. The\ninhabitants, especially the little folks, take great delight in climbing\nthose hills and holding their school sessions, meetings, picnics, and\nsocial gatherings, upon their summits. The valley is fully as pretty in\nappearance as any place I have before written of, and indeed those who\ndwell there have never before known such a charming spot. Bright and\nfragrant flowers gem the soft, green grass; shrubs and thickets of red\nand yellow, white and pink, roses are abundant; creeping vines, with\ngreen leaves and long, finger-like spikes of purple or crimson flowers,\ntwine around the walls of every home, and all things are sweet and pure;\nstreams of water gush out here and there; natural fountains send out\njets of clear and sparkling water; birds sing joyously in the trees, and\nhop fearlessly in and out of the houses; so tame are they that they will\nperch upon the finger of any little boy or girl who calls to them, and\nsing a song of cheer to the great delight of their mountain keepers.\n\nHappy Valley is like a vast school-room filled with the bright and\ncheerful faces of little children, with here and there an adult or grown\nperson who is a kind, loving, and gentle teacher. The lessons are always\nlearned in the open air, never inside the houses; for much information\nis gained by the little ones from the natural scenery which they so\nfrequently gaze upon. The children of this place are very musical in\ntheir tastes, and are given every opportunity and facility to cultivate\ntheir powers in this direction.\n\nYou have heard of a little instrument called the \u00e6olian harp, which,\nwhen placed in an open window or anywhere where the wind will sweep\nacross its strings, gives forth a very sweet and plaintive melody. Well,\nin Happy Valley every child who desires one\u2014and who does not?\u2014has an\ninstrument very similar to that little harp, which they place where the\nsoft breezes can sweep across it, thus evoking the most sweet and\nenchanting music, not sad like the melody of the \u00e6olian harps of earth,\nbut cheerful, inspiring, and very tuneful. A stranger entering this\nvalley, and for the first time listening to the music drawn from a\nnumber of these little instruments\u2014as he will be sure to do\u2014will wonder\nif he has entered fairy-land, and if it is the chiming and chanting of\nthe fragrant flower-bells he hears, so exquisite is the sound. But no;\nit is only the children\u2019s harps, played upon by mystic fingers of the\nwind, and teaching a lesson of cheer and hopefulness to the little ones.\nThe teachers take this method of instructing their pupils in the laws of\nvibration, of harmony, of melody, and of rhythm, while explaining to\nthem by practical illustration the operating power in the breeze that\ncauses it to have such a glorious effect upon the tiny instrument.\n\nThe little girl of whom I am going to tell you is only about eight years\nold. She is a very quiet, gentle child, full of care and thoughtfulness\nfor others. Her great pleasure is found in trying to make others happy.\nI will not tell you how she looks; but if you know of any good, kind,\nloving little girl who tries to help others, to speak softly and\npleasantly to them, and to smile cheerfully when desired to do anything,\nwhy, you may think she looks like this little spirit girl whom I shall\ncall Flora\u2014after the flowers. Flora came to the Summer-land when about\nfour years of age. At first she felt very sad, and would sit all day\nsilent and sorrowful by the side of some stream, or upon some grassy\nknoll, and take no heed of the happy sports of the frolicsome children\naround her, for you see she had left a dear mamma and papa and a sweet\nlittle baby-brother upon the earth, and she felt that they missed her\nand wanted her back in their home.\n\nBut in a little while our Flora became sprightly and cheerful, for she\nfound that she could return to her earthly home; and at night, when her\ndear parents and little brother were asleep, she could talk to their\nspirits and even sing them songs (for she had a very sweet voice), and\nin the morning she would sometimes hear her mamma say: \u201cIt seemed last\nnight as though I could hear my little girl singing to me, and I do\nsometimes think she comes to baby, he is so good, and smiles and chirps\nso much, just as he used to when she played with him.\u201d And the papa\nwould smile and say: \u201cIt does really seem as though there was an angel\nin the house; I feel as though I am nearer heaven than I used to be.\u201d So\nyou see this little spirit girl was doing a great work in a quiet way,\nby coming to her mamma and papa in a loving, gentle manner, and by\nbrightening their lives with her cheerful, sunny presence.\n\nFlora had a little harp, such as I have told you of, given to her, and\nshe would sometimes bring and place it in the doorway of her papa\u2019s\nhome, and the breeze or air-current would cause its strings to vibrate\nwith sweet, faint melody. The little baby-brother would hear the\ncelestial music, and laugh, crow, and clap his hands, while his mamma\nwould lay down her sewing or pause in her work, and strain her ears to\nlisten to the strange, sweet, faint sounds that fell upon them.\n\nWell, this continued for some time, until Flora\u2019s mamma became fully\nconvinced that the sweet musical strains she so often heard were not the\neffects of an active imagination, but that they were real and tangible;\nand hearing of a spiritual medium not far away, she determined to visit\nher to learn something if she could of those who are called _dead_.\n\nI am not going to tell you about the spiritual experiences of Flora\u2019s\nmamma, only that she was so pleased with what she heard at the home of\nthe medium whom she visited that she went again and again, for at each\ncall she made upon the spirits through the medium she received more and\nmore information concerning her own dear ones in the spirit world, and\nnever failed to learn something of her little Flora, who always came\nwith messages of love.\n\nSo you see, dear children, this little girl of Happy Valley accomplished\nthe great work of bringing happiness, comfort, and peace to the sad\nheart of her mamma, and, later, of bringing the grand knowledge of\nimmortal life to that mamma, and convincing her that her loved one who\nhad died still lived and loved her, and would come to her. And all this\nwas performed because the little girl desired to bless and help her\nmamma, and so brought the little spirit-harp and caused the winds to\nplay upon it in her earthly home.\n\nOur little spirit girl, Flora, sometimes takes her harp into earthly\nhomes where want or misery or pain are felt, and in the quiet hours of\nnight, when the tired inmates are what you call asleep, she plays and\nsings to them, and their spirits, which are not asleep, though their\nbodies are wrapped in slumber, listen to the sweet sounds and grow\nstrong and happy; for they gain power from the spirit sounds to go on in\ntheir weary life on earth. These poor, sad people do not in their waking\nhours remember that they heard such heavenly music and singing, but they\nsometimes recollect that they had dreamed pleasant things, and they\noften wonder why they feel so happy when they awake and so strong to go\nthrough with the toils of the day. It is because they had been visited\nin their sleep by an angel child.\n\nThere is a large hospital in one of your cities where poor, sick,\nsuffering people lie on beds of anguish. Men and women, and sometimes\nlittle children, are taken there to find relief from pain and fever, or\nperhaps to die and go to the spirit world. Kind nurses and doctors do\nall they can for these sick people, but, ah, they do not know how they\nare assisted by the little spirits who, like Flora, take their tiny\nharps and play upon them, or set them where the breeze can sweep over\nthem, thus invoking sweet sounds that are heard by the spirit ears of\nthe sufferers, and which lull their fevered fancies or soothe their\nburning pain.\n\nI will tell you of one case where great good was accomplished by our\nlittle friend Flora. A strong man lay very ill in the hospital ward. His\nbrain seemed to be on fire, for all the fever which had attacked his\nsystem had mounted there. His suffering was intense, his ravings were\nterrible to listen to; he had been given up to die by the doctors,\u2014that\nis, they could do nothing to save his life. Dear little Flora visited\nthe side of this man constantly. She had placed her spirit-harp above\nhis cot, and the faint breeze that was allowed to circulate around it\nwas sufficient to cause a vibration of the strings of the instrument.\nTime passed; the man grew worse and worse; the physicians were compelled\nto minister opiates to him to ease his sufferings. At length, when he\nhad succumbed to the power of the drug, he sank away into a deep stupor;\nbut though his outer senses were numb, his spirit-hearing was alive.\nSounds from the spirit-harp fell upon his hearing, perceiving which\nFlora began to sing a soft, sweet melody. The man listened and grew calm\nand quiet. The doctors watching his sleeping form, dreaded its\nawakening; but when the patient did arouse from his slumber, it was with\ncooled brain and stilled pulse. \u201cDoctor,\u201d he cried, \u201cI have seen an\nangel; I have heard her sing to me; I shall get well!\u201d\n\nThe physician smiled at what he considered the fancy of a sick brain;\nbut the patient did recover his health and strength. From the day when\nhe first heard the spiritual music, and listened to Flora\u2019s singing, he\nbegan to grow better, until he was pronounced well by the doctors. But\nhe was a long time regaining his strength, and every time he fell into\nslumber Flora\u2019s harp would strike upon his hearing, and very often he\nwould hear the sound of her voice in song. These moments always gave him\npower, rested him, brought him new strength, and thus his spirit was\nenabled to overcome the weakness and pain of the body. He recovered his\nhealth, and became also a firm believer in the power of angels to\nrelieve the sickness and sufferings of mortals.\n\nIn the same hospital where the sick man was cured of his fever, through\nthe power of Flora and her harp, many other suffering persons also have\nbeen blessed and aided in various ways by the same ministering power. I\nwill now tell you about a young woman who lay there wasting away with\nconsumption. This patient could not be restored to bodily health, either\nby mortals or spirits; nor was it desirable that she should be, for life\nhad been hard for her. The world had been very cruel, and she had\nsuffered much. The only hope for her happiness would be in passing away\nto the bright Summer-land, where she would find friends, kindness, and\nhome. But she did not know about these things as we do, dear children,\nand she did not want to \u201cdie;\u201d she did not want to leave the body, for\nshe dreaded the Beyond.\n\nWell, this woman\u2014I will call her Lizzie\u2014suffered agony of mind in\nthinking of death, and little Flora felt great compassion for her. She\nsought in every way to influence the mind of Lizzie with bright and\nhappy thoughts. She would sing to her, place her harp where its music\nmight possibly be heard, and in many ways endeavor to bring comfort to\nthe weary girl. At length, when Lizzie had become so weak and pallid\nthat it seemed as though the soul must part with the body, her inner\nhearing was opened, and the music of the tiny harp fell upon it. She\nlistened,\u2014listened, oh, so intently. Soon a smile lighted up her wan\nfeatures; it was, indeed, heavenly music to her. In a little while she\nheard a voice in sweet, childish tones singing these words:\u2014\n\n \u201cWe are coming, we are coming,\n With our spirits filled with love,\n To guide thy weary footsteps\n To our Father\u2019s home above;\n We are coming, we are coming,\n And the night will quickly fly,\n There is rest and hope and comfort,\n Life and Peace are drawing nigh.\u201d\n\nThe sick woman aroused with a start and looked so strangely at the nurse\nthat the latter said: \u201cWhat is the matter, Lizzie?\u201d \u201cNothing is the\nmatter,\u201d replied Lizzie; \u201cbut I am so glad, I feel so happy. I am not\nafraid to die now, God is good; He will not destroy a poor girl like me\nwho has had so much to bear. I think he will take me to his home. I have\nheard such sweet music, such tender words! God is good; he will help me.\nI am ready to go to him.\u201d\n\nThe next day Lizzie died with a smile on her lips, and as her soul\npassed out from the body she heard the sweet, soft music of the harp,\nand caught a glimpse of Flora as she sang:\u2014\n\n \u201cThere is rest, and hope and comfort,\n Life and Peace are drawing nigh!\u201d\n\nOnly one more story of Flora and her harp have I time to tell you, dear\nchildren, and this is of a little boy who was very ill. He, too, must\npass away to the Summer-land; he was too weak and ill to recover bodily\nhealth. His parents were wealthy, and he was their only darling. They\nfelt as though they could not give him up. To his luxurious home Flora\nfound her way frequently, and the child had grown so spiritual that he\ncould hear her sing, and listen to the music evoked from her mystic\nharp. Many times he spoke to his dear parents of the sweet music and\nsinging he heard, and they sadly shook their heads; for they felt that\nhe was nearing the gateway of heaven.\n\nHowever, two days before the angel came to take him home, his mother,\nwho was sitting by his side, also heard the music and singing, and her\nheart grew comforted as so many others had become before. On the night\nthat the little boy\u2019s spirit passed out to the higher life both the\nparents heard the wonderful music; and it brought such peace to their\nsouls they could no longer wish to keep their darling here to suffer\npain, but with a murmured prayer, and without a rebellious thought, they\nkissed his brow and gave his spirit up to the keeping of the angels.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVIII.\n LITTLE BERTIE AND OTHERS.\n\n\nIn the beautiful Summer-land where I live, men and women who are always\nkind and good are the teachers of little children. They once lived on\nearth, and they loved children; so now, in the beautiful heavens, they\nare teachers. If you know any man or woman who loves children, and is\nkind to them, you may know these good people will some day be teachers\nand guides of little ones in another world.\n\nYou would like to know about the Summer-land where I live. It is like a\nlarge garden, extending as far as you can see or travel; beds of gay\nflowers bloom there and sweeten the air with their fragrance; lakes and\nbrooks and fountains splash and gurgle with crystal water; there are\ngroves of trees, in the leafy branches of which birds sing and chirp all\nthe day; butterflies flit about from flower to flower, and the golden\nsunlight falls in beauty over all.\n\nIn this vast garden we have our homes; some are snug little white\nhouses, covered with flowering vines, and shining out daintily from the\nglossy green; others are stately habitations, large and roomy, and built\nof white or rose-colored or golden-hued stone.\n\nHere we live with those we love, and we strive to be good and kind to\nall. The kinder and gentler we are the more beautiful our homes appear,\nand the sweeter grow the lovely blossoms about us, because when anyone\nis good, he sends out a bright, shining light, which influences and\nenvelopes all that it reaches, and beautifies it; but if anyone is\nunkind, he sends out a dark, cloud-like vapor, that blights and destroys\nthe flowers, and darkens his surroundings.\n\nThe little children meet in groups in this fair garden, and, tended by\ntheir kind teachers, they learn their lessons and sing their little\nsongs. Sometimes a new friend is brought to them, some little one who\nhas just left earth and is in need of kind friends and loving care, and\nthese children at once welcome the new-comer, give her a share of what\nis theirs, love her, include her in their pleasures, do not ask whether\nshe was rich or poor, and make her happy. To this sweet place all who\nwish can come, that is, if they are gentle and kind; but the light here\nis so brilliant that it would hurt the eyes that are often filled with\nanger. Some day, when your bodies die, you will come here, if you wish\nto be taught, if you are children, or to be teachers if you are grown\nup.\n\nA little girl came to us from earth a short time ago; she was so white\nand quiet and gentle that we dressed her in white and called her Lily.\nShe had never been to such a pretty place before; her parents were poor\nand could not live in the country, but were forced to dwell in a little\nnarrow back street in the big city. You can imagine her delight at\nfinding herself in our Summer-land, where she could cull the beautiful\nflowers and hear the birds sing, and play with them, too, all day, if\nshe wished. (The beautiful birds are very tame in our world; they perch\nupon our shoulders and hands, singing all the time; they are not afraid,\nand no one ever harms them.)\n\nFor a while this little girl was very happy and contented; she was such\na mild, gentle little thing that we all loved her at once. Soon I\nperceived that she grew more quiet, white, and sad, and I found that she\nwas grieving because she had all these sweet joys around her, flowers,\nbirds, fields, friends, a beautiful home and kind teachers, while her\nmother, and a little sister, who was lame, were obliged to live on earth\nin the little dark street, with nothing beautiful to brighten their\nlives. She wanted her mother, she wanted Nellie to share her new home,\nor she wanted to go back and live with them. Then I showed her that\nthough it was not yet time for her dear mother and sister to come to the\nSummer-land, yet she could go back to them, and make them feel better\nand happier. She was all delight at the thought. Plucking handfuls of\nthe sweet flowers that grew around her, with her pure face all ashine\nwith love, she asked me to take her back to her earthly home, which I\nwas glad to do.\n\nWe found her mother hard at work sewing, and the little lame girl trying\nto help her. We brought all our influence to bear upon the two, but\ncould not make them feel our presence. Leaving the flowers she had\ngathered, spirit Lily came away disappointed and sad. But again and\nagain she tried, until at last, little lame Nellie began to see the\nflowers and the light which shone around her angel sister, and finally\nshe could see that sister herself, converse with her, and tell her\nwondering mother the many strange things told to her of the Summer-land.\n\nNow our little Lily is contented and happy, anxious to learn in our\nspirit school, for every day she returns to earth, to teach her sister\nwhat she learns, to show her the flowers and birds of heaven, and to\nbless and comfort her mother with her presence and her love.\n\nLittle Bertie was a sweet little boy, the only child his mother had; his\nfather had gone to dwell with the angels long ago, and his dear mother\nwas obliged to labor very hard for the support of herself and her little\nboy. Bertie and his dear mamma lived in a little white house, that had a\nflower garden attached to it, where the roses and pansies and sweet\npinks grew and blossomed through all the long, golden days of summer.\nThe little house stood just out of town, not very far from the big stone\nhouse where the lady lived who supplied Bertie\u2019s mother with sewing\nwork.\n\nLittle Bertie was only seven years old, but it was his delight to dig\nand plant in the garden, to water the flowers, and to keep the weeds\nfrom choking up the blossoming plants and shrubs; and while engaged in\nthis work, he would chirp and whistle to the dear little birds who came\nto watch him, and to sing him sweet songs, as they swung merrily upon\nthe branches of the one cherry-tree that the garden contained.\n\nOne day, as little Bertie was working away and singing a childish song,\na tiny shadow fell across his path, and looking up he saw a little girl,\nabout five years old, standing beside him, and gazing wistfully at a\nbunch of red roses he held in his hand, which he had just gathered for\nhis mother. The little stranger had evidently strayed through the open\ngate; her pale face was very thin and wan, her large blue eyes appeared\nas though they were only used to looking on disagreeable scenes; but now\nthey were lighted up with pleasure at the sight of the beautiful\nflowers! Her clothing was poor and worn, and her whole appearance\nbetokened want and suffering.\n\nLittle Bertie\u2019s curiosity, as well as sympathy, was aroused; he plied\nthe child with questions, but, alas, she could not answer, for she was\ndumb. This she made him understand by signs, also that she had come a\nlong way and was tired; she stretched out her hands toward the blooming\nflowers, as though they could give her rest.\n\nCrowding her hands full of flowers, Bertie led the little wanderer in to\nhis mother, who soon made her more comfortable, by bathing her heated\nbody in cool water, and by feeding her with a bowl of fresh milk and\nbread.\n\nThat night the little dumb girl slept in a nice, soft bed with Bertie\u2019s\nmother. The next day Bertie\u2019s mother tried to find out the home of the\nlittle girl, and for many days after, but all in vain. The angels had\nled her to that pretty home, and the angels intended she should stay.\nHer former home had been one of misery and want; her own mother was an\nangel in heaven, and her father had neglected and beaten her. Bertie was\ngreatly delighted with his little sister, as he called the stranger; and\nsoon the two children learned to love each other very dearly.\n\nBertie and his mother were soon able to understand the signs the little\ngirl made, and there was no difficulty in knowing her wants. They called\nher Daisy; and the two children were to be seen daily among the flowers,\nwhich both fondly loved.\n\nBertie\u2019s mother had to work harder than ever now, as she had another\nlittle mouth to feed, and another little body to clothe; but she did not\nfret, for she loved the little girl, who gave so much pleasure to her\nBertie. Sometimes, when the children were tired with work and play, and\nhad become quiet, or at the twilight hour, when the flowers and birds\nwere going to rest, little Daisy would creep to the feet of Bertie\u2019s\nmamma, and, fixing her gaze upon the far-away blue sky, would put up her\nlittle hands with a look as though she heard sweet sounds, and saw\nbeautiful sights. And so she did; for the angels came very close to this\nlittle girl, and sometimes, when they brought her flowers from the\nSummer-land, she would see them and hear the sweet songs they sang.\n\nThe winter began to approach; summer faded away, and little Bertie was\nvery ill. The angels wanted him in their beautiful home, and one night,\njust before the snowy Christmas time, he drew his mamma\u2019s face down to\nhis and kissed it, put his arms around her neck, and whispered: \u201cI am\ngoing, mamma; papa says so. I see him; he says Daisy will be your child\nnow; the angels brought her here for you; and he says I can come to you\nagain.\u201d And so he passed away to the pure spirit world, where all is\nlight and joy.\n\nHis mamma wept over the cold, white body of her little boy, from which\nhis sweet spirit had forever fled; but little Daisy only smiled as she\ngazed upon the tiny form, robed in its snowy raiment; for she had seen\nthe spirit of her little playmate as it passed out from the earthly form\nand was clasped in the arms of its angel father, and she knew that\nBertie had gone to live in that beautiful, wonderful land of sunshine\nand flowers, which she sometimes visited in her dreams.\n\nAnd how was it with our little Bertie? Oh, he was glad to come to our\nbright Summer-land and play with the birds, which sang so sweetly to\nhim, as they perched upon his hand; for in the spirit world the little\nbirds have no fear; we do not confine them in cages, but they live in\nthe shrubs and among the flowers, and they are so tame they will come to\nus when we call them, and alighting on hand or shoulder will delight us\nwith their melodious songs.\n\nBertie\u2019s father lives not far away from the sweet spot which to me is\nhome in the spirit world; and so it happened that the little boy was\nbrought to me to learn of the many beautiful things in the Summer-land,\nand to join with other little people under my charge in gaining a\nknowledge of life and its duties. And what a dear, sweet little fellow\nhe is; always happy and contented, ever ready to part with the most\nbeautiful flower or bird he possesses, if it will enhance the pleasure\nof some one else; always anxious to return to earth and bear messages\nfrom spirits to those who long to hear from their friends. We all love\nhim for his goodness and truth.\n\nIt was about two weeks after Bertie\u2019s flight to the Summer-land; the\nsnow lay thick and white around the earthly home of his mother; it had\nbeen a hard day of toil and pain for that poor woman, for she was\nobliged to labor, even while a severe cold, which had seized upon her,\nseemed to tear her lungs with merciless fingers; and now in the twilight\nhour, with little Daisy sitting at her feet, the tears fell thick and\nfast from her weary eyes as she thought only of that little snow-covered\ngrave in the lonely church-yard.\n\nSuddenly, a mellow, tender light, like the last soft gleam of sunset,\nstreamed into the quiet room; but the sun had long since set behind the\nclouds, and there was no moon. The mother never stirred, but lay back in\nher chair, her gaze riveted upon the face of the little dumb girl,\nacross which the strange light fell, lighting it up with untold beauty.\nThe eyes of the child were fixed on vacancy, as though she saw something\nbeyond the sight of mortals, as she truly did; for little Bertie,\nhearing the gentle fall of his mother\u2019s tears, even in his spirit home,\ncame lovingly back with hands filled with spirit flowers, and it was his\nform that little Daisy saw in the gleam of that mellow light which the\nangels brought to the cottage home.\n\nGliding up to the side of the little girl, Bertie filled her hands with\nthe flowers, and then and there, in the brief space of a moment, the\nlonely, tired woman saw a sight she never forgot,\u2014the form and features\nof a little boy, her little boy, her Bertie, bending over the quiet form\nof little Daisy, crowding her hands with the most beautiful flowers she\nhad ever beheld. At the same instant, a breath of perfume swept across\nher senses, and she distinctly heard the words uttered, in the\nwell-known tones of her little boy: \u201cFor mamma.\u201d Daisy, the child who\nwas both deaf and dumb to earthly things, heard the angelic whisper\nalso, and as a flash of joy lighted up her features, she stretched out\nher handful of flowers to the startled woman.\n\nAt the instant, all sight and sound vanished, leaving only the darkened\nroom as before; but what had come to the child? Seizing a slate and\npencil from the floor, where she had left them when tired of tracing\nlines upon the slate an hour before, little Daisy wrote in a clear, bold\nhand: \u201cDear Mary, fear not; the angels guard and guide you; your dear\nones are not dead; they live in a bright home, where they wait for you;\nthey can return and bless; through this little child we can make our\npresence known; we bring to you our love.\u2014HENRY.\u201d\n\nHenry was the name of Bertie\u2019s father, and Mary that of his mother. What\ndid it mean? Surely it must be true. Little Daisy could not print her\nown name, and this was Henry\u2019s handwriting. Thus the good woman thought;\nbut though somewhat frightened and anxious, her heart grew comforted; a\nfeeling of deep peace fell upon her spirit, and she ceased to mourn.\n\nAs for little Bertie, he was wild with delight. He had manifested his\npresence to his mother; she could no longer fear that he was lost to\nher; for had she not seen him with her own eyes. A happier little boy\ndid not dwell in the Summer-land.\n\nBut Bertie\u2019s mother has never seen him in that way again, though he\nreturns daily with his offering of choice flowers. However, little Daisy\nalways beholds him, and she is enabled to tell his mother, by signs,\nwhen he is at her side. The slate and pencil are kept constantly at\nhand, and often, in the twilight hour, a strong influence comes over the\nlittle girl, and she is made to write loving messages in the bold hand\nof Bertie\u2019s father, or in the printed letters of Bertie himself.\n\nAnd the mother\u2019s heart is comforted. She knows her dear ones live and\nlove her, and that she will meet them again. Daisy has proved a gift of\nuntold value to that lonely woman, for which she is deeply grateful;\nwhile in his spirit home, Bertie works happily in helping others, and\nlearning all he can for himself.\n\nNor is this all: wealthy, kind people have taken an interest in Daisy,\nand in co-operation with the angels are educating her, that she may\nbecome an accomplished woman.\n\nSpirit children learn most rapidly by coming back to earth, bearing\nmessages to mortals; they also grow beautiful and strong in so doing.\nKnowledge increases with them, and they become wise and experienced in a\nlittle while. They earn their lovely homes; all the bright, beautiful\nthings they have are theirs, because they have worked for them, and they\nknow how to enjoy them thoroughly.\n\nNow, my dear children, if in these pages I have written or should write\nany word or sentence that you do not understand, please to ask your kind\nparents or some good friend to explain it to you; because in talking of\nthe work of spirits, I may not always employ the language which is\neasily comprehended by such little folks as you. But I promise you to\nwrite as simply as I can, that you may read and understand for\nyourselves.\n\nSometimes the spirit children come to earthly homes where little\nchildren in the body dwell, and try to bring them\u2014the mortal\nchildren\u2014good hearts and pleasant lives. Messenger spirits bear messages\nof love to the little folks on earth, and plant a desire to be kind,\nloving, and gentle in the breasts of those who linger here.\n\nI know of a home on earth where three little children live with their\nmamma, who is a poor woman. There is a little boy in the Summer-land who\nis a cousin to these children, and very often he comes from his home in\n\u201cGolden Nest\u201d to play with his cousins; and every time he is with them\nthey grow so gentle, kind, and loving toward each other that their mamma\nloves to watch them; and she feels very happy, even though she does have\nto work so very hard.\n\nThese little folks do not know that the spirit boy is with them,\nenjoying their games, and at the same time filling their hearts with\nbright thoughts and the desire to be good to each other. Little Charley,\nfrom Golden Nest, cannot bring his cousins costly toys or rich food, but\nhe can do what is much better, and that is he can make them happy by his\nsunny presence. With him comes the sunshine, the fragrance of flowers,\nand the music of birds,\u2014all from the Summer-land. The little earthly\nchildren cannot see the light, smell the perfume, or hear the birdies\nsing; but they _feel_ all these things, and their hearts become bright,\nfragrant, and sweet in consequence.\n\nSo Charley is a messenger bird who carries joy and gladness everywhere,\nand the poor woman takes comfort in the gladness of her darlings,\nwondering how they happen to be so cheerful, but feeling thankful that\ntheir hearts are so bright. Little does she know that an angel from the\nSummer-land is in her home, casting a ray of heavenly light over each\none. Now, little children, perhaps you may be favored by the company of\nsome little playmate from the Summer-land; and if you will only be kind\nand loving to each other, I am sure you will feel the gladness which the\nmessenger spirits bring to your lives.\n\nI know a little child who lives in the Summer-land whose name is Helen.\nShe passed away from the body when a little babe, but as that was years\nago she is now quite a good-sized girl. Helen is a great worker for\nothers; she is not at all selfish, but is never so happy as when she has\nsucceeded in making others feel glad. She is quite a traveler, too, and\njourneys from place to place bearing messages of cheer, and seeking out\nthe lonely, sad-hearted spirits, in order to give them comfort and\npeace.\n\nI have heard of this spirit working in various cities on earth, and have\nbeen told that she has consoled many mortals who were bowed down in\nsorrow, by telling them of their dear little children or kind friends\nwho sent their love to them from the spirit world. Helen is an\nangel,\u2014that is, she is truly a messenger spirit, and everybody loves her\nfor her gentle kindness and her loving ways.\n\nNot very long ago, Helen brought to our home in the Summer-land a dear\nlittle boy whom she had just found. He was a waif who had died to the\nearth a short time before, and had no kind mother or good father to take\ncare of him. He had been taken in charge by a loving spirit, but our\nHelen had begged so hard to have him in her keeping that the gentle lady\nlet the child go. It seems the boy\u2019s mother lives in the body, and that\nshe is very unhappy over the death of her little one. She has not been\nvery good in her life, and she thinks her child has been taken away from\nher by an angry God to punish her for doing wrong. Helen has found out\nthat this woman is a medium, and she thinks she will have power to take\nthe little boy to her, so that the mother may become aware of the\npresence of her child, and be made a better woman thereby.\n\nAnd this is the work that Helen is at present trying to accomplish. The\nlittle boy under her care is a bright, loving little fellow, and will, I\nam sure, grow to be a noble youth. He repays the kindness lavished upon\nhim with gratitude and affection. All the best part of his nature is now\ngrowing, and the good within him is coming up into outward life. He has\nbeen taken to see his poor earth-bound mother, and Helen has succeeded\nin making her think that her boy may be permitted to come to her. This\nthought started within her mind a new train of reflection; and the woman\nfeels that if his pure spirit can come to visit her, she must try and\nlive a better life. She would not have her child see her do a wrong\nact,\u2014anything that would make him unhappy, or cause him to turn away\nfrom her; and so she is trying very hard to do right and to be a better\nwoman.\n\nOne night the woman saw her child in company with another of larger\ngrowth. Both beings looked so beautiful, their faces shone so brightly,\nand such a sweet smile lingered on their lips, that a thrill of joy ran\nthrough her weary frame. When she awoke and found, as she thought, that\nit was all a dream, she wept bitterly; but since that time the poor\nwoman has not tasted a drop of liquor, nor said a bad word, nor done\nanything that was naughty, because she feels that perhaps the angels are\nwatching her actions. And so this good work is going on, and two\nchildren of the Summer-land may have the honor of redeeming a human life\nfrom wrong-doing and sin.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis is the season of the year when the little people who dwell in happy\nhomes on earth receive pretty presents from their kind parents, or from\neach other. The pleasant expressions: \u201cI wish you a merry Christmas,\u201d\nand \u201cI hope you will have a happy New Year,\u201d are heard on all sides; and\nthe little children of the Summer-land feel so pleased at this, because\nthey like to see the earthly children joyous and glad.\n\nAt holiday times, my little friends, you are in a good condition to\nreceive visits from the angels, because you do not feel naughty, nor are\nyou unkind to each other, but each one of you rejoices over the pretty\ngifts all have received, and are willing to share your sweetmeats with\nyour playmates and friends. So the little angel children who come around\nyou smile and feel glad that the bright Christmas and golden New Year\ncome to earth to bless each home, and to make the children happy. Just\nat this time of the year you will have beautiful dreams; for when you\nare snugly tucked in your little beds, and your tired eyelids have\ndropped in slumber, our little messengers\u2014spirits of the\nSummer-land\u2014have the power to take you away from earth up to their\nbright home, where they show you all the lovely things that are to be\nfound there; then you have a joyous time until the morning light breaks\ninto your room, when you are conducted back to your bodies, and awake\nrefreshed; and, oh, so glad because of all the pretty sights you thought\nyou dreamed of, but which you really did see in the Summer-land.\n\nSome of our spirit messengers have been watching a dear little girl who\nlives in a big city on the earth. They love to see her patient little\nface, all bright with smiles, watching her mamma to see if there is not\nsomething she can do to help her. The mamma of this little girl, whom we\nwill call Bessie, is very poor, and she has to work hard in order to buy\nfood and clothing for herself and child. Bessie does not grumble and cry\nwhen her mamma has nothing but bread and molasses to give her for\ndinner, but she eats her food with a brave smile as she says: \u201cNever\nmind, mamma; when I get to be a big woman I\u2019ll work hard, and then we\u2019ll\nhave \u2019tatoes every day.\u201d\n\nThe angels love to come to Bessie, because she is a very lovable child,\nand they would rather visit her and sing their songs to make her slumber\nsweet than to enter the luxurious homes of wealth and gaze upon all the\nbeautiful objects they contain.\n\nLast Thanksgiving, Bessie had a couple of cookies and a big red apple to\ngo with her bread; these her kind mamma bought her as a treat. Christmas\nhad almost come, but the little girl did not look for any gift to come\nwith it, because, she said: \u201cSanta Claus can\u2019t find out everyone, and so\nI guess he\u2019ll not come this way this year.\u201d\n\nA band of spirit children determined among themselves to give Bessie a\ngood Christmas; so they went out here and there into the homes of the\nrich in the big city, and tried to influence those who lived therein to\ndo good unto others. At last they found a little girl who wanted to make\nsome one happy; and so they kept putting thoughts into her head how to\nhelp others. When she went out to play, the spirit children would make\nher walk up and down before the old house where Bessie lived, and\nsometimes she saw the child gazing shyly at her from the window. At last\nthe idea popped into the head of Sadie\u2014the little girl whose parents\nwere wealthy\u2014that she \u201cwould like to give that little bit of a\nthing\u201d\u2014meaning Bessie\u2014a good Christmas; so she told her mother what she\nwished to do, and asked her assistance.\n\nI cannot tell you all that was done; but early Christmas morning\nBessie\u2019s mamma was called to her door by a loud rap, and there stood a\ncolored man, who bowed, lifted a large basket into the room, and\ndisappeared. A note attached to the basket read: \u201cFor the little girl\nand her mamma who live here, with a merry Christmas from Santa Claus.\u201d\nOh, the nice things to eat that were in that basket, enough to last a\nnumber of days. There were also a package of toys, a pair of mittens,\nand a bright plaid dress for Bessie, with a warm gray shawl for the\nmamma. You may imagine Bessie\u2019s joy when all these things were shown\nher. She clapped her hands again and again, while her good mother\u2019s\nheart was full of thankful praise to the unknown friend who had made her\nlittle one so happy. Sadie also enjoyed her Christmas better than ever\nbefore; for she not only felt the results of a good deed in her heart,\nbut also felt the sweet influence of approving angels surrounding her,\nwhile the messenger spirits from the Summer-land rejoiced with exceeding\njoy in the happiness of each one.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIX.\n GOLDEN NEST AND OTHER PLACES.\n\n\nGolden Nest is another beautiful place in the Summer-land where the dear\nlittle children have happy homes. In this sweet, delightful spot the\nbirds flit about in the green branches of the stately trees, and warble\ntheir songs of melody. You would be surprised in watching the antics of\nthese bright-plumaged little songsters to observe how they will dance\nand swing upon the shoulder or finger of a child,\u2014always bold and\nfearless, never timid or afraid. Their songs, too, rival the human tones\nof the children\u2019s voices and seem to be keeping up an harmonious\naccompaniment to the words the little people sing.\n\nGolden Nest is like a great green nest flooded with sunshine; it is\ncircular in form, and carpeted with the softest and brightest of grass\nand moss; flowers grow in great profusion, and their beauty and perfume\nyield an eternal pleasure to the senses of those who approach them.\nLittle streams of clear water bubble and gurgle over smooth, round,\nwhite stones and glisten in the soft sunshine like ribbons of molten\nsilver. The atmosphere is balmy, and it is a luxury to live out of doors\nin this enchanting place, that is a golden nest for the troops of merry\nlittle human songsters that dwell together there in love and harmony.\n\nBut these little people have a great deal of work to do; they find\nenjoyment, pleasure, and play in this labor, because it gives them\nunbounded zest and vigor in life. The children of Golden Nest are\nmessenger spirits, and they act as messengers between the people who\nlive in the body and their friends in the great spirit world. All the\nspirit messengers do not live in this pretty place, for such beneficent,\nthat is good, spirits are to be found in all parts of the Summer-land;\nbut all the children who live in Golden Nest are such workers,\u2014that is,\nthey bear messages from spirits to mortals, bring down to earth bright\nthoughts and impress them on the minds of people here; stamp the desire\nto be pure and good in the hearts of persons on earth, and come from\ntheir beautiful homes to watch over, care for, and love little children\nin the body, and, by singing sweet songs in their ears at night, give\nthem happy dreams, so that they will wish to be kind and loving to each\nother, and obedient, affectionate, and respectful toward their parents.\nSo you see the children who live in Golden Nest have a great deal to do;\nthey are never idle, never naughty, never sad, for though it pains them\nto see earthly children naughty or unhappy, and to find mortal men and\nwomen ill and sorrowful, yet they are too busy in trying to help the\nunfortunate ones of earth to attend to any sadness in their own hearts;\nand so it will not remain, but flies away before the great light of\ncheerfulness in which these little people dwell.\n\nIf I call the children of Golden Nest angels, my dears, you will know it\nis because they are messengers, for the word angel means\nmessage-bearer,\u2014\u201conly this and nothing more.\u201d But in these days we are\ntaught to consider angels as pure, beautiful, and holy beings. Well, the\nlittle boys and girls in Golden Nest _are_ pure and holy, because they\ndo not think bad thoughts. They love each other, are anxious to be good,\ntry to help others to do right, and are busy in working to benefit some\none in some manner; and they are beautiful, for their faces are smiling\nand sweet, their eyes shine with happiness, and they seem to leave a\ntrail of brightness wherever they go. Moreover, they are really\nmessage-bearers; so I think you will agree with me that they are really\nand truly angels.\n\nA group of these little people were very earnestly engaged in\nconversation not long since, and as I watched their faces glow with\nanimation, I became convinced that they were discussing some new plan\nfor the benefit of mortals. And so the events proved. I will briefly\ntell you of this work which these angels are now doing: a circle\u2014that\nis, a place where spirits come back to earth to manifest to mortals\u2014has\nbeen opened by a family who are anxious not only to receive knowledge of\nimmortal life for themselves, but also are desirous to bring this truth\nunto the comprehension of others. This family had parted with three\nbeautiful little children who had some time since been taken to the\nSummer-land. So the father and mother opened their home and invited\ntheir friends\u2014who had also laid the earthly forms of dear children\naway\u2014to join with them in invoking the presence of their spirit friends.\n\nWell, this group of little ones in Golden Nest I had seen talking so\nearnestly together were the children of these good people; for having\nlearned what their parents were about, they were all excitement to have\na share in the work from their side of life. So it was determined that\nthey\u2014the little ones\u2014should return to earth, and for a time, with the\npermission of their teachers or guardians, take up their abode in the\nhome where the circle was to meet; for by doing this these angels were\nable to bring a strong spiritual power to the earthly home which would\nassist them in making themselves manifest to their parents and friends.\nSo they have left their beautiful Golden Nest, and are now staying on\nthe earth. They have controlled a medium in the circle, spoken their\nnames, and announced their presence to their delighted parents.\n\nJust as soon as they have given their earthly friends all the spiritual\npower that they can, they will leave the mortal home, to convey messages\nback and forth from mortals to spirits, and from spirits to mortals.\n\nThe circle controlled and guarded by this band of children from Golden\nNest is destined to be of great service. Already, outsiders have been\nadmitted, unbelievers have received messages from their dear \u201clost\u201d\nones, many hearts have been made happy, and our sweet little\nmessage-bearers are working earnestly to develop their medium so that\nshe can _see_ the spirits who come to her, and describe them to their\nanxious friends. They bring her strength so that she can bear the trials\nof life, and be happy in working for the angels. It is necessary for\nthem to live with the medium now, so that she may constantly feel the\npure, uplifting influence of their child-like, unselfish spirits, and\nthus not grow weary of the work planned out for her by spirit teachers;\nso they have gladly given up the beautiful sights and sounds of their\nbeloved Golden Nest, to take up their abode in a humble home on earth.\nBut in a little time, when their work is done, and spirits of all grades\nand powers will be able to manifest at the circle and bring messages of\njoy to weary hearts, as well as to find strength and happiness for\nthemselves, these little angels will return to their Summer-land home,\nwell pleased with the success of their noble work.\n\nA little girl who lives in Golden Nest has been a message-bearer for\nseven years; she passed from the body when less than a year old, and was\nbrought to her friends on earth by another little angel who wished to do\nthem good.\n\nWhen little Jennie first controlled a medium, she could only lisp baby\nnames to her parents; but by coming constantly she gained power to\nexpress herself more clearly. When three years of age she became the\nmessenger of a medium, and from that time she has made herself known to\nmortals almost every day, always bringing messages from some spirit to\nfriends on earth, bearing messages from people here to dear ones in\nspirit life, or helping spirits to come themselves, or else giving\nspiritual advice to mortals who are in need of it. This little messenger\nhas given over twenty-five hundred spirit messages to people on earth\nduring the last seven years, has assisted over nine hundred spirits to\ncontrol her medium, and speak or write for themselves, and has brought\ngladness to many, many hearts.\n\nThis is the work of one little girl who lives in Golden Nest. Do you\nthink, dear children, that she has any time to be naughty or unhappy?\nNo, indeed; she is cheerful and kind, ever ready to assist and bless\nanyone, and always ready to do the work given to her to perform.\n\nI will give you the words of a sweet little song that I have recently\nheard sung by some little people who live in Golden Nest. I cannot bring\nto you the melody which accompanied the lines, though I wish I could do\nso, it was so very sweet and produced such a happy, joyous feeling in my\nheart. Could you only listen to the songs the little angels sing in\ntheir homes of light, I am sure you would never be naughty again; for\nyou would try to be gentle and kind, so as to ever attract them to your\nside. But, dear children, we all love you, and will try to make you\nhappy every day. And now for the song, which is entitled\n\n\n HEAVENLY LOVE.\n\n Joy! joy! The light of morning\n Rolls in gladness on its way,\n Flooding all the world with glory\n On this happy, peaceful day.\n So the love of God our Father\n Bathes the universe in light;\n Reaching down through all the darkness,\n It dispels the gloom of night.\n\n \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7 \u00b7\n\n Joy! joy! The heavenly splendor\n Of our Father\u2019s tender power\n Gladdens every weary spirit,\n In its saddest, loneliest hour.\n By-and-bye the holy radiance\n Shall illumine every life,\n And each soul shall rise in triumph\n Far above all pain and strife.\n\n Joy! joy! The love of angels\n Softly flows from heaven to earth,\n Blessing with its matchless power\n All the ills of mortal birth,\u2014\n Heavenly love that brings its bearer\n Down with messages of peace\n To assuage the pains of mortals,\n And to make their joys increase.\n\n Joy! joy! The light is spreading,\n We may bask within its rays,\n Let us gather up its sunbeams\n While we chant our songs of praise.\n Let us bear the heavenly splendor\n Of this deathless, boundless love\n Unto those who mourn in sorrow\n For their friends who dwell above;\n Let us bless the weary-hearted,\n And enfold their lives with love!\n\nWe will now leave Golden Nest and its happy, busy inmates, and travel on\na little further in our search for the children who dwell in the\nSummer-land. Soon we reach Rocky Nook, where a number of little folks\nlive who are growing strong and beautiful under the healthful breezes\nthat ever blow around that favored spot.\n\nRocky Nook is not a cold, bleak, barren place, though, as its name\nindicates, there are plenty of rocks or stones to be found there. These\nstones are round, smooth, and shining, of varied colors and different\nsizes; they are so clear and beautiful you can see the white sand\nshining through them, and when the sunlight falls upon them they glow\nwith all the colors of the rainbow, and sparkle like precious gems.\nRocky Nook is really a beach, composed of gleaming white sand and\ncovered with these shining stones. Here also may be found delicate\nrose-tinted and snowy shells of different forms, which are more\nbeautiful than any shell you ever saw on earth. The water is clear as\ncrystal, and when it is quiet reflects the blue sky and spotless clouds;\nmoss and anemones grow in the limpid depths that have the appearance of\na great flower garden, so beautiful is the vegetable growth therein.\nSometimes the sea comes roaring to the shore in great foamy billows,\nmaking a musical sound like the chiming of many bells, that is very\npleasant to hear. Little boats or shallops may be seen upon this shining\nwater, filled with groups of many children who love to float upon the\nbosom of the great deep. These little ones are never afraid, for there\nis nothing to fear. Should the boats be tipped over, which, however, I\nthink never occurs, nothing more than a dip in the water would happen to\ntheir inmates, as spirits cannot drown; and the children often take\ntheir bath in this great basin, sporting with the waves and laughing\nwith great glee.\n\nRocky Nook extends its shiny length for some distance along the shore.\nHere and there we perceive little pavilions built of the shining stones,\neach one laid with precision and skill. Some of these little temples are\ncircular in form, and others are of the octagon shape; but all are\nbeautiful in appearance. These little buildings have been erected by the\nchildren who live here, and serve as play-houses for them. This work\ngives them a knowledge of architecture and design, and will serve as\nmodels for something grander to be attempted by-and-bye. In walking over\nthe smooth stones, which are not rugged to our feet, we reach a great\nstructure built of snow-white coral, and are surprised to learn that\nhere in the spirit world must exist those tiny creatures who form this\nstrange, perforated substance, since the coral could not be there had\nthere been no coral-builders to create it.\n\nToday I found a group of happy children who were laughing, dancing, and\nsinging in great glee. Their hearts were merry and glad; not a frown\nmarred the beauty of their faces, nor an ungentle word ruffled the\nsilvery flow of speech and song that issued from their lips. Yet these\nlittle ones had known suffering, pain, and misery; their earthly homes\nhad been filled with poverty and cruelty; many times they had felt the\nbiting cold of winter, and suffered for the want of something to eat.\nTheir parents were poor and ignorant, who neglected their children and\ncould not properly care for them. So the little ones pined away and\n\u201cdied,\u201d\u2014that is, their little bodies perished, but their spirits were\ntaken to the Summer-land and placed under the care of loving and tender\nwomen, who ministered to their wants, attended to them assiduously,\ntaught them lessons of love and truth, until they have outgrown the\nunhappy condition which their earth life surrounded them with, and are\nthe joyous, gentle children whom I today saw smiling and singing with\nglee.\n\nThese are the little folks who dwell in Rocky Nook. Here, by the side of\nthe clear and sparkling water, they live in little houses built far back\nfrom the sands, surrounded by groves of trees and beds of flowers. They\nhave the benefit of the clear and bracing air that blows across the\nbright waters, and can also enjoy the shady retreats of the old trees\nthat wave their branches a little way inland. Every day the children\ngather on the sands and study the composition of the rocks and shells\nand corals, or sail in their \u201cfloats,\u201d or bathe in the cool, refreshing\nsea. They have erected the structure of coral of which I have spoken,\nwith great nicety and skill, fitting piece by piece into each other with\nthe utmost precision, and have left it upon the sand as a shining beacon\nto their playmates and friends who dwell on Sunny Isle, a beautiful spot\nacross the water.\n\nI suppose my little friends on earth know that when people are cramped\nby ignorance and poverty, they have to bend all their energies in\nstruggling to live, and that the spiritual part of their natures, not\nhaving opportunity to grow, becomes dwarfed and stunted. When the little\nfolks who live in Rocky Nook first came to the Summer-land, they were\npale and puny in appearance, weak and languid; but the bracing air of\nthis beautiful sea-side home, the enjoyments of its outdoor sports, the\nloving care and instructions of its keepers, the bewitching study of the\nlessons it has to teach, soon tone up the entire system of the children\nbrought here, and they grow strong and active, anxious to learn the\nlessons, to help each other, and to become smart and good men and women.\nAnd thus it is the children who might have grown up on earth in an\natmosphere of sin and evil, becoming depraved men and women, when taken\nto the Summer-land are cared for and educated to be useful and honorable\nmembers of society.\n\nThe children of Rocky Nook have all the advantages of the highest\ninstruction that life affords. All branches of education are open to\nthem, and they advance rapidly in knowledge; for, like all spirits who\nare not confined to the earth, they are quick to grasp and retain\ninformation, their powers of perception and observation being very keen.\nAs these children grow in stature and wisdom, and arrive at the stage of\nearly manhood or womanhood, they leave the homes and schools of Rocky\nNook, and enter into association with advanced spirits who have long\nlabored in connection with good people on earth to lessen human\nignorance, and teach mortals how to live better lives. Their places at\nthe beautiful sea-side resort are quickly filled by other waifs from\nearthly life, who are carried there to receive instruction and growth,\nand prepare themselves to become teachers and guides to ignorant and\nsuffering ones of earth.\n\nThe little children who live in Rocky Nook seldom come back to earth.\nThe memory of their mortal life is unpleasant, and they do not like to\nthink of it; but as they grow and become wise and good, and learn of the\nsad condition of many poor people who live here, they have a desire to\nhelp them. Then these bright spirits find their mission, which is to\nlift up some lowly one, to make strong some person who does wrong, so\nthat he or she can resist evil temptation. They then prepare themselves\nfor the work before them, and when the time comes they leave their\npleasant home by the water and seek the company of those spirits who are\nexperienced in working for humanity, by whom they are guided in their\nlabor of benefiting mortals.\n\nLet me tell you something, dear children, that perhaps you have never\nheard. You know, I suppose, that there are many little ones on earth who\nare growing up in ignorance and amid the dreadful conditions of extreme\npoverty and crime. Well, the dark and immoral surroundings of their\nlives attract undeveloped spirits who have not outgrown their evil\ninclinations; and such spirits live over again their lives of sin in\nconnection with those who grow up amid such adverse conditions. But,\nwhile the unfortunate children are thus unpleasantly situated, each is\nattended by a guardian angel or messenger of light, who watches every\nopportunity to benefit and bless them, and who will be with them until\nthey emerge from sin and unhappiness to a condition of purity and peace,\neven though it be not until they have passed from earth and lived many\nyears in the spirit world.\n\nSuch spirits as those who live in Rocky Nook are the guardian angels of\nthe poor, ignorant, unclean, and miserable children of earth; their\nmission is to attend these unhappy creatures, and to work in their\nbehalf, prompting a good thought or generous impulse in their hearts\nwhenever conditions are favorable; watching over and looking after them,\nvisiting the more fortunate ones of earth and influencing them to pity,\nassist, and teach their miserable fellow-beings. Thus they toil on,\nattending their charge even though it live a life of error, going with\nit to the spirit world and working upon its sensibilities, until at\nlast, in some way, it recognizes the presence of the good angels, turns\nfrom the evil ones around it, repents of the past, seeks for light,\nfinds it, and begins to labor for the good of others. And so Rocky Nook\nis a school of preparation where teachers become qualified to minister\nto the needs of the lowliest of earth; it is a beautiful spot, and well\nworthy a place in the Summer-land. The labor that its inmates perform is\ndestined to out-work grand results to humanity; and when earth\u2019s favored\nchildren co-operate with them, the victory over ignorance and evil will\nsoon be won.\n\nSunny Isle is a beautiful island that is covered with the greenest of\ngrass, and spangled with the sweetest and prettiest of flowers. The sun\nsheds its golden rays upon a number of cosy homes on this radiant\nisland, in which little children dwell together in harmony and love. The\nhouses on Sunny Isle are circular in form, and composed of a white\nmaterial which resembles the marble of earth, only more transparent; the\nroofs are supported by pillars, around which flowering vines twine,\nshedding their fragrance upon the balmy air. The interiors of these\nhomes are decorated with beautiful pictures and statuary, and furnished\nwith pretty yet simple furniture for comfort and convenience of the\ninmates.\n\nOn this island a number of little children live with their parents and\nteachers, and pursue their studies from day to day. These little ones\nonce lived in earthly forms; but the conditions of the material sphere\nwere too severe for them to endure, and so they drifted to the\nSummer-land. Some of them are with their own parents, who passed from\nearth before they did; while the fathers and mothers of others are still\ninhabitants of the mortal sphere, and do not know that their little ones\nare cared for, taught, and protected by loving guardians, who are\nlaboring for the good of others.\n\nThe children of Sunny Isle learn the first principles of knowledge; they\nare laying the foundations of a liberal education, and, under the wise\ninstruction of their tutors, are receiving practical information\nconcerning the origin, uses, and destiny of life. Here they develop\ntheir natural tastes and inclinations, and early show what particular\nline of labor they are best adapted for. The abilities of the child are\nencouraged to unfold, and they are given opportunities for expression in\noutward form. By-and-bye, these little ones will have passed through\ntheir preparatory discipline on this island, and be qualified to enter a\nhigher department of training and of knowledge. They will then leave\nthis place for a home elsewhere, perhaps in one of our large cities of\nspirit life, or in some of the academic groves where learned teachers\nand masters of art and science give practical instruction in the various\nbranches of education to their pupils. Then other little ones will be\nbrought to Sunny Isle, to take up the studies and advance in the\ndirection of those who have preceded them.\n\nBut because the little people who live in this bright spot are studious\nand industrious, you must not think they are unhappy, for indeed they\nare the merriest, healthiest set of little chatterers that you ever saw.\nNo late hours, no severe lessons beyond their years and comprehension,\nno ill-ventilated apartments, and no food that will not assimilate with\ntheir systems, tax their mental and bodily powers beyond endurance, as\nis the trouble with so many young people of earth. Plenty of fresh\nsunlight, air, water, fruits, etc., are supplied these spirit children;\nlessons adapted to their understanding are explained to them, and\ngenerally illustrated by objective experiments; they are allowed to\npractice any kind of labor that they are interested in, and thus get a\npractical information in relation to it. Their clothing is loose and\ncomfortable, and does not restrict their movements, and all things are\nconducive to their health and happiness, so that they cannot help being\njoyous and free.\n\nSunny Isle is often visited by the children of Rocky Nook, which is not\nfar across the sparkling water that laves the shining banks of this\npretty spot, and frequently a number of floats or shallops are seen\ncresting the dimpling waves, filled with merry, lighthearted little\nfolks from one or the other of these places, who are visiting each\nother. Air cars are also seen floating in the atmosphere, bearing their\nprecious burdens of happy, fearless children from point to point of\ninterest, wherever may be their destination. These young people can also\nglide through the atmosphere by their own will-power, without being\nobliged to resort to conveyance of any kind. This power of navigating\nthe air by the force of will is natural to the spirit, but cannot be\nacquired while encased in the mortal form, because the physical body is\ntoo ponderous to be conveyed through the air without mechanical support.\nSpirits who live on earth but a few hours, or months, or even but two or\nthree years, are enabled to float in the manner of which I speak almost\nat once when they reach the Summer-land; but those who have remained on\nearth for some years have to become accustomed to this method of\nexerting their will sufficiently to glide through the atmosphere, as the\neffort does not come readily to them; they are timid and afraid, and\nhave to practice many times before they gain confidence to float any\ndistance.\n\nLittle mortal children, when first born, could swim easily if placed in\nwater and allowed to use their limbs, and if the practice was continued\nthey would have no difficulty in navigating the water, because swimming\nis natural to them; but if they are kept out of the water for years,\nthey lose their natural ability for passing through it. They grow timid\nand fearful, and have to practice many times before they gain power to\nswim to any distance. And that is just the way with the natural powers\nof the spirit,\u2014they must be exercised to be of use.\n\nSunny Isle is one of a group of three islands; the other two are in\nappearance similar to the first. They are also inhabited by little\nchildren and their teachers. The studies and pursuits are similar to\nthose of which I have spoken. These islands are called Concordia and\nMelodie. They are homes of happy, innocent, and active little beings,\nwho are destined to perform great good for humanity. The dwellers upon\nthese three islands of the sea mingle freely together, for they love\neach other.\n\nWhen the children of these islands have studied a certain lesson, or\npracticed a particular work for a little time, they are permitted to\nchange their attention to some other interesting labor, or to find\nrecreation in some pastime that is pleasant to them. This is so that\ntheir minds and bodily powers will not become wearied, and that their\nduties may not become distasteful to them. These little folks are\nprovided with all the appliances necessary for their health and\nenjoyment. They have boats, swings, \u00e6rial cars, and other conveniences\nfor their amusement. Musical instruments abound, and many of the pupils\nare fine vocalists. The children laugh, shout, romp, plash in the water,\nand act generally as do the children of earth when bent upon having a\ngood time. They never push nor injure each other in any way, because the\nfirst lesson they learn in this school, and one they never forget, is\ngentleness to one another and love to all people.\n\nWherever there are children in the Summer-land, no matter what the name\nof their home,\u2014whether it be Fairy Nest or Happy Valley, Golden Nest,\nRocky Nook, or Sunny Isle,\u2014will be found beautiful sights and sweet\nsounds; for the expression of childhood is beauty, and in heavenly life\nthe little spirits are provided with the surroundings and conditions\nthat harmonize with their own interior life. The methods of instruction\nat the different homes may vary, but all are calculated to perform their\nwork well and faithfully.\n\nEvery child in the Summer-land is taught that labor is ennobling, and\nall are anxious to learn some branch of employment. They love to work,\nfor they know that true happiness is found in activity; and as each is\nallowed to follow the especial pursuit which pleases him or her best,\nand to choose what it shall be, all are contented in their occupation.\nThe child on earth who is busy leaping, running, shouting, using its\nlimbs, is happy, while the little one who is obliged to remain quiet or\nbe idle is sad, discontented, and miserable. This shows that idleness is\nunnatural, and that activity is the true condition of life. In the\nSummer-land, the natural is always allowed to have free and full\nexpression.\n\nNow, my little friends, if you do not understand what I tell you about\nthese things, please ask your kind mother or father to explain it to\nyou; for I wish you to gain a clear comprehension of the real, natural,\nand beautiful manner in which the children of the spirit world live,\nstudy and amuse themselves, so that you may think of them as busy little\nworkers who are as alive and active as yourselves.\n\nThe occupations of these young residents of the higher life, and also\ntheir studies, are various; but whatever each undertakes to learn to do\nis accomplished with earnestness and by diligence. We have no dull\nscholars, because all delight to study; and we have no loitering idlers,\nbecause each takes pleasure in practicing or experimenting in some line\nof labor for themselves.\n\nOur young folks are students of astronomy, following the movements of\nplanets and seeking for knowledge of the solar system, or the grand\nuniverse of stars, with eager interest; of chemistry, gaining\ninformation of the various elements and their combinations, from day to\nday; of the electrical forces in nature, and the laws that control them;\nand, indeed, we have with us pupils in every branch of science, as well\nas philosophy, who are charmed with their studies and take them up with\ncommendable zeal. We have also scholars pursuing the branches of\neducation embraced by algebraic numbers, geometry, architecture, form\nand design, and other practical studies; while many of our children,\nwhen their minds are sufficiently matured, adopt the study of medicine,\nand enter the field of magnetism to follow their chosen pursuits; for\nthere are many sick and feeble mortals, and many ill-formed spirits, who\nrequire the care and assistance of magnetic doctors; and here is a grand\nwork for those who are adapted for it.\n\nSo you see, my friends, the lives of the children in the Summer-land are\nbusy, useful, and earnest. These little ones have all the amusement and\nrecreation they desire, while they find an incentive to study or work in\nthe joy they feel when they have mastered their lesson or accomplished\ntheir labor. They have no time to quarrel or to be discontented, and are\nalways happy.\n\n\n\n\n PART THIRD.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XX.\n JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE.\u2014HIS EXPERIENCES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.\n\n\nThe chapters that follow contain a recital of the spiritual experiences\nof John Critchley Prince, the poetical control of the medium, which\nfirst appeared in the columns of the _Voice of Angels_, and elicited\nwarm expressions of commendation and approval from the pens of a number\nof writers. The name of Prince is well-known in England, for his poems\nhave long held a place in the affections of his countrymen; but as he\nspeaks of his earthly life and labors in the first portion of his\nnarrative of experiences, we will not anticipate what is there stated.\n\nIt may be well to mention how spirit Prince happened to become attracted\nto Miss Shelhamer, and to find in her organism elements that so\nassimilated with certain ones of his own as to render her a fitting\ninstrument for the transmission of his thought to mortals, and we will\ngive the explanation in his own words, as published in the _Voice_ of\nNov. 1, 1878:\u2014\n\n\u201cI feel that I owe it to the public to explain my presence here, and how\nI first happened to control this medium. In early life, comparatively\nspeaking, I met with the present chairman of the _Voice of Angels_\ncircle,\u2014an old friend, Mr. Robert Anderson, of Morpeth, England,\u2014himself\nsomewhat of a poet, and one possessed of a mind competent to criticise,\nadmire, or condemn the productions of poetical souls.\n\n\u201cHe became somewhat interested in me in those early days, at Ashton\nunder-Lyne, England, and we formed a spiritual affinity that has\nsurvived physical separation, and even death itself. We lost sight of\neach other; but after my first experiences in spirit life I determined\nto visit America. By the law of spiritual affinity I was attracted to a\n\u201ccircle\u201d held by this medium, then a girl in her teens. My old-time\nfriend, Robert Anderson, who had long been a resident of Boston, and had\nbecome interested in the revealments of Spiritualism, discovering\nmediumistic qualities in his own being, that enabled him to perceive and\nto converse with spirits, was present at that circle. The links of\nsympathy formerly binding us together immediately revealed themselves,\nand I gave him spirit-greeting. Since that time, some six years ago, I\nhave been a frequent visitor to this home, meeting my old friend and\nholding social converse with him. I do not always need to control the\nmedium for that purpose, for he is both clairvoyant and clairaudient,\nand it sometimes pleases me to enter the sphere of his spiritual aura\nand converse with him in the Lancashire dialect, which seems to recall\nold associations to our minds.\u201d\n\nMr. Prince refers above to the spirit-greeting he gave his friend Mr.\nAnderson, who had for many years held a devoted friendship for the\nparents of Miss Shelhamer, the medium, and who was ever a welcome\nvisitor in their home, upon his first appearance from the higher life.\nThis greeting was expressed in verse, and appears below. The recipient\nof this poetical tribute was highly gratified as well as astonished at\nthe production, for he recognized in its composition the well-remembered\nstyle of his old friend Prince, as well as quotations from a poem\nwritten by the spirit author in England many years before he passed from\nthe body, and which had never appeared in print in this country. The\npoem thus delivered is entitled\n\n\n I COME TO THEE.\n\n When evening shadows lightly fall,\n And earth is wrapped in holy peace,\n When over cottage roof and wall\n The sounds of toil and revel cease,\n I come to thee.\n\n When in the fair and cloudless skies\n The golden stars their vigils keep,\n Like countless hosts of angel eyes\n That guard the world while hushed in sleep,\n I come to thee.\n\n Not when the roses climb the wall,\n And sweetly scent the balmy breeze,\n Not when the joyous songs of birds\n Make music through the leafy trees,\n I come to thee;\n\n When the earth is nobly ruled[5]\n By winter\u2019s weird, majestic reign,\n \u201cWhen moonlit snow is on the roof,\n And pictured frost is on the pane,\u201d[6]\n I come to thee.\n\n Not when earth\u2019s fair and sunny morn\n Hath bathed thee in its mellow glow,\n But when upon thy honored head\n Descends life\u2019s winter\u2019s driven snow,\n I come to thee.\n\n From fairy lands, whose silvery gleams\n Stream oft across thy earthly way,\n Where life more fair than pictured dreams\n Glows with the light of perfect day,\n I come to thee.\n\n To speak of that eternal shore\n Where gently beat the waves of time,\n Where zephyrs chant their sweet refrain,\n And life is evermore sublime,\n I come to thee.\n\n To strew before thy weary feet\n The roses of eternal love;\n To plant the lily bud of peace,\n Transplanted from the world above,\n I come to thee.\n\n From fairy lands beyond the tomb,\n Where flowers of truth forever bloom,\n To guide thy soul through realms of love\n To fairer, sunnier climes above,\n I come to thee.\n\n And when thy pilgrim feet have trod\n The starry road that leads to God,\n When thou hast reached the shining strand\n And angels clasp thee by the hand,\n I\u2019ll come to thee.\n\n To greet thee once again with joy,\n Unmixed with sorrow\u2019s dark alloy,\n To sing the songs of sweet accord,\n To teach thee of the Living Word,\n I\u2019ll come to thee.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n The poem was given in mid-winter.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n Quotation from one of his early poems.\n\nA few weeks after the production of the above the spirit author\npresented his friend with the following poetic effusion:\u2014\n\n\n HEART TREASURES.\n\n Earth may yield her sordid treasures,\u2014\n Purest silver, gold, and gems,\u2014\n Fit to crown a kingly forehead\n With their royal diadems.\n Man may point to forms of beauty,\n Rarest works of skillful art,\n But he cannot find the equal\n Of the treasures of the heart.\n\n Oh, the human heart is glowing\n With the gems of truth and love,\n Flashing in the radiant splendor\n Of their coronal above;\n Flashing in their wondrous glory\n Through the clouds of doubts and fears,\n Gems whose lights shall never tarnish\n In the mists of future years.\n\n See the gold of pure affection,\n Twice refined and purified!\n Gaze on sympathy\u2019s white silver,\n Linked together, side by side!\n Mark the shrine of honest Friendship,\n Rarest work of heavenly art,\n And compare thy earthly treasures\n With the treasures of the heart!\n\n Oh, the human heart holds truly\n Mines of beauty,\u2014wealth untold,\u2014\n Richer than earth\u2019s fairest jewels,\n Brighter than earth\u2019s shining gold;\n Glorious forms of smiling beauty\n Fill each recess of the heart,\n Fairer than the sculptor\u2019s model\n That begems the world of art.\n\n Oh, the heart itself\u2019s a jewel\n Hid within these forms of clay,\n Flashing in its radiant splendor\n With the light of perfect day;\n Through the crust of human weakness,\n Through the slough of human shame,\n Burning with the light eternal\n Of affection\u2019s sacred flame.\n\n Here this wondrous, precious jewel\n I this evening bring to you,\n Shining with unfading luster\n Burning steadfast, calm, and true;\n Set within the crown of glory\n Of infinitude above,\n Whose eternal anthems ringing\n Tell of Friendship, Truth, and Love.\n\nThe spirit, John Critchley Prince, has inspired his medium with a great\nnumber of poems, many of which have been published in the _Banner of\nLight, Voice of Angels_, and other spiritual and secular journals, and\nhe proposes to have them gathered into book-form, to be published as a\nvolume of poetic gems some time in the future. The following, selected\nfrom this mass of poems, are given as specimens of the poetical work\nthis spirit has accomplished in connection with his medium:\u2014\n\n\n \u201cAND HE WILL MAKE IT PLAIN.\u201d\n\n The path of life seems dark and drear\n To mortals toiling on\n Through heavy clouds of doubt and fear,\n And mists of sin and wrong;\n For through the shadows of despair\n We often seek in vain\n For light to pierce the tangled maze,\n And make its meaning plain.\n\n Dear souls are groping in the dark,\n And longing for the day,\n Who cannot see the lines of truth\n Along life\u2019s beaten way;\n And spirits, hopeless and forlorn,\n Whose tear-drops fall like rain,\n Wait anxiously the coming time\n When He will make it plain.\n\n We cannot find the tangled end,\n So blindly do we seek;\n We stumble o\u2019er the rugged path,\n With steps grown faint and weak;\n We cannot make the crooked straight,\n Nor light the darkened road,\n Nor can we ease our aching hearts\n Of all their weary load;\n\n And so we totter on our way,\n And cannot comprehend\n The meaning of Life\u2019s mysteries,\n And how each one shall end:\n Why hearts should ache and spirits bleed,\n And faint beneath the rod,\n Till, in their agony of need,\n They cry to Thee, O God!\n\n Above the clouds that darkly lower\n The sun is shining bright.\n And through the spirit\u2019s saddest hour\n The soul gains strength and might.\n We may not find the comforter\n For all our woe or pain,\n Yet God is the interpreter,\n \u201cAnd he will make it plain.\u201d\n\n Oh, saddened hearts! oh, stricken souls!\n Who long for peace and rest,\n The Father\u2019s love about you rolls,\n And that will make you blest!\n Infinitude can never err;\n Its mysteries he\u2019ll explain\u2014\n \u201cGod is His own interpreter,\n And He will make it plain.\u201d\n\n Dear teachers of the \u201cLiving Word,\u201d\n Whose souls are bathed in light,\n With every impulse nobly stirred\n To battle for the right,\n To you belief can never err,\n Nor \u201cscan his works in vain,\u201d\n For God is your interpreter,\n And He hath made it plain.\n\n O Father, God! to thee we pray\n For strength to do Thy will,\n And as we journey on our way,\n Fulfill Thy purpose still;\n And through all weakness may we join\n The angels\u2019 sweet refrain\u2014\n \u201cGod is His own interpreter,\n And He will make it plain.\u201d\n\n\n DOWN BY THE SEA.\n\n Down by the sea, the gleaming sands\n Forever beckon to the waves,\n The seagull flits along the shore\n Or nestles in its rocky caves;\n The billows chant their sweet refrain\n Of life forever grand and free,\n And deep-toned harmonies repeat\n Their mystic rhythms to the sea.\n\n Down by the sea the morning breaks,\n And all the eastern sky is bright\n With shining radiance that wakes\n The world in rapture to the sight;\n And riding on to burning noon\n The golden sun in splendor beams\n Upon the dimpling, glistening waves,\n Half wrapt in soft, delicious dreams.\n\n Down by the sea the western sky\n Is all aglow with rosy light,\n The fiery monarch sinks to rest\n Enwrapped in fleecy garments bright;\n And out upon the crystal waves\n The sunset\u2019s rainbowed, tinted dyes\n Reflect their glories to the soul,\n And charm it with a glad surprise.\n\n Down by the sea\u2014the glorious sea\u2014\n We watch the white-sailed vessels glide,\n Bearing their messages of cheer\n Far out upon the silvery tide;\n The shining waves caress the sand,\n And softly lie upon its breast,\n While all the happy peaceful sea\n Bespeaks the calm of holy rest.\n\n Down by the sea there sometimes comes\n A mighty current strong and deep\n That sweeps along the rolling tide,\n And wakes the waters from their sleep;\n The great green waves with snowy crests\n Come grandly rushing wild and free,\n Revealing depths of untold power,\n Down by the rolling, matchless sea.\n\n Down by the sea the love of God\n We feel in every breath we draw,\n We listen to His mighty tones\n In silent, reverential awe;\n The air is all alive with thoughts\n Of Him who rules both sea and land,\n And holds the deeply-flowing tides\n Within the hollow of His hand.\n\n\n COMING HOME.\n\n Drawing nearer to the portals\n Of the angels\u2019 happy home,\n Lonely-hearted sighing mortals\n In their strength or weakness come\n Now their white sails in the distance,\n Gleaming on Life\u2019s open sea,\n Catch a breath from heavenly breezes\n Richly scented, warm and free.\n\n Heavy clouds have gathered o\u2019er them,\n Storms and tempests sometimes fell,\n Driving every sail before them,\n Through the water\u2019s angry swell,\n Till again the morning\u2019s splendor\n Bursts in triumph o\u2019er each deck,\n Lighting up with touches tender\n Every trace of storm and wreck.\n\n Seamed and patched, and wearing traces\n Of temptation\u2019s cruel power,\n Are the weary, pallid faces\n Of the voyagers this hour;\n But a gleam of tender sweetness\n Falls upon them as they glide\n Nearer to the full completeness\n Of their home beyond the tide;\n\n On and on in stormy weather,\n Or when summer sunbeams fall,\n Till they enter port together\n At the quiet boatman\u2019s call.\n Raise the strain, oh, souls immortal,\n In one chorus sweet and grand,\n As ye gain the heavenly portal\n Of fair Eden\u2019s Morning Land!\n\nSpirit Prince found that on certain occasions he could inspire his old\nfriend Anderson with the poetic fire that thrilled and characterized his\nown being. The following poem is one that this intelligence delivered\nthrough the mediumship of that gentleman, and is introduced here to show\nthe evident kinship of the production with some of those delivered\nthrough the mediumship of Miss Shelhamer:\u2014\n\n\n A FRIEND\u2019S ADVICE.\n\n Allow me, my friend, a friend\u2019s privilege\n To drop a few words in your ear:\n You have lived a long time in the mortal,\n And wrought foolish things, I much fear;\n But the summer of life is not ended,\n And its fruits may be gathered, you know,\n By all who will act on this maxim:\n Water and weed as you go.\n\n The field of this life is a broad one,\n And much precious seed has been sown;\n Some of it\u2019s crushed by the wild weeds,\n And some of it\u2019s covered with stone;\n It needs all the care and attention\n That mortals can give it, I know,\n So take my advice, and be careful\n To water and weed as you go.\n\n The frost and the snow of the winter\n The sun\u2019s rays are melting away,\n Bringing a sight of the wildwood,\n And the beautiful flowers of May;\n Teaching us all the importance\n To look to the seed that we sow,\n And mind well the lesson I\u2019ve told you:\n Water and weed as you go.\n\n The spring will be here with its promise,\n And speak from the green-covered sod,\n In flowers that show by their splendor\n The manifold wisdom of God.\n Oh, man, heed the lesson they teach thee,\u2014\n That life from the Father doth flow;\n So make it as pure as the flowers,\n And water and weed as you go.\n\n The fruitage will come in its season,\n A reward for your toil and your care;\n Then see that those in the shadow\n A part of your harvest shall share.\n This is the voice of the spirit\n To brothers and sisters below:\n \u201cBe sure, while you dwell in the mortal,\n To water and weed as you go.\u201d\n\nShortly after the physical decease of that grand man, Wm. Lloyd\nGarrison, John Critchley Prince wrote the following sketch,\u2014through the\ninstrumentality of his regular medium,\u2014which was published in the _Voice\nof Angels_, June 15, 1879, and afterward copied into _Mind and Matter_:\u2014\n\n\n THE WELCOME ANGELS GIVE.\n\nI have recently had the good fortune to witness a scene, the\nimpressiveness and grandeur of which only those who are unencumbered by\nthe corporeal body, and who are _all_ spirit, _all_ sense, _all_\nperception, can fully realize. This scene was the spirit reception, the\nangelic welcome given to one of life\u2019s noblest heroes, one of the\nwhitest, grandest souls that has ever trod the pathway of mortal\nexistence; and though I cannot hope to convey to earth other than a\nfaint portrayal of the scene, yet I will attempt in this instance to\ngive my readers some idea of the welcome angels give.\n\nAfter more than the three-score years and ten of earthly existence and\nexperience, William Lloyd Garrison, the friend of the oppressed, the\ndefender of right, the champion of freedom, calmly, quietly, and\npeacefully laid down the burden of mortality, and rising, grand,\nmajestic, free, a spirit filled with power, passed into the realms of\neternal light.\n\nIn company with a band of kindred spirits, among whom I may mention my\nfriend Robert Burns, Felicia Hemans, and Elizabeth B. Browning,\u2014noble\nsouls all, who had wept tears of sadness over the oppressed, even while\ntuning their harps to sweeter melody for freedom\u2019s sake,\u2014I was\nprivileged to witness a spirit reception given to this ascended hero;\nnot the greeting given by the nearest and dearest of the heart, that was\ntoo sacred for even the eyes of sympathizing spirit friends, who had no\nclaim upon his love, but the meeting of kindred souls, who had trod the\nsame paths of truth, waded the same seas of opposition and danger, and\nborne the same battle-flag of freedom on to victory.\n\nNot alone was the spirit of William Lloyd Garrison surrounded by\ndeparted friends of his own country; not alone were his hands pressed by\nsuch moral heroes as Washington, Adams, Lincoln, Andrew, Sumner, and\nmany more noble souls, men and women of his own country; but there were\nLafayette, Lamartine, Wilberforce, Wilcoxson, George Thompson, Harriet\nMartineau, and countless others, assembled to give their brother\ngreeting. Indeed, all the great reformers of every age and clime, whose\nsouls now watch from the battlements of heaven the advancement of\nliberty and truth on earth, and who still have a hand in shaping the\nevents of interest to humanity, were gathered to give our friend and the\nfriend of every man\u2014though the foe to all tyranny, persecution, and\nslavery\u2014a perfect ovation, expressed through love, sympathy, and\nblessings. But the most beautiful was the sight of John Brown, brave old\nOssawottamie, whose soul continues to march on, and Charles Sumner,\nwhose spirit still toils for a recognition of the equality of all before\nthe law, seated at the feet of Mr. Garrison, and looking up to him as to\nsome beloved teacher and guide.\n\nConfined by no limits, unrestrained by the confines of walls and\nbarriers; out in the clear and pleasant sunshine, fanned by the balmy\nbreeze, refreshed through every avenue of sense by the perfume of\nflowers, the gleam of waters, and the songs of birds, the very poetry of\nexpression, the nectar of loving sympathy gushed from the fountain of\neach soul, and formed a sea of light which glorified the soul of him who\nfelt its genial, life-imparting flow. You who are in sympathy with great\nminds, in harmony with all souls earnest for the emancipation of\nhumanity from whatever enthralls and keeps it down, can conceive faintly\nat best of the grandeur, the beauty, and the joy of such a meeting;\ncountless numbers of gifted, noble souls assembled to give welcome, and\nto pay tribute to one beloved apostle of truth. No pen, no tongue can do\nthe subject justice.\n\nOutside of the circle of light formed by this celestial company, awed by\nits brilliancy, surprised by its glory, debarred from enjoying its feast\nof soul communion because of the remorseless memories within them, I\nobserved a number of faces, faces stamped with the signet of genius as\nwell as intellect, but bearing the impress of infidelity to truth; faces\nbelonging to gifted but ignoble spirits who, when upon earth, stood in\nhigh places and publicly denounced the spirits of liberty, of toleration\nand justice. Today they are repenting for the life spent in ambitious\ndesires.\n\nBut this is not all. Coming up from every direction, together and in\ngreat numbers, I observed spirits approaching, from the tiny, tottling\nchild to the aged grandsire, singing songs of welcome as they came, the\ncelestial melody of which echoed and re-echoed throughout the spheres,\nproducing a perfect flood of heavenly sweetness that thrilled the soul\nwith ecstasy.\n\nIt was a song of gratitude, a mighty p\u00e6an of praise, a universal strain\nof blessing for deliverance; and as it gathered power and rolled on in\nmusical splendor, the sweetness of its tones, the beauty of its\nexpressions, the grandeur of its inspiration clustered and fell in a\ncascade of divine harmony over and around the soul of him enthroned in\nour midst, the object of our gathering, the central glory of our galaxy,\nWm. Lloyd Garrison.\n\nOn, on they came, bearing branches of green and waving palms; garlands\nof beautiful and odorous blossoms, a profusion of snowy-white lilies,\nand clusters of royal roses, to strew before his spirit feet.\n\nBut sweeter than all other gifts, and dearer far to him who beheld and\nreceived them, were the smiles of affection, the tears of gratitude, the\nwhispered blessings showered upon him by these new-comers, the vanguard\nof this hero; they who were once poor and depressed, scorned,\nuneducated, and despised, the slaves of tyranny, and used as beasts of\nburden, but who are now cultured, honored, free!\u2014toilers for the\nredemption of souls from bondage.\n\nFirst kneeling before their benefactor came the poor, despised negroes,\nwith hands uplifted in blessing, lips mute from the excess of emotion,\neyes eloquent with joy and gratitude. Not only those who had become free\nbefore the law while yet on earth, but also those who had died in chains\nand beneath the lash, came with benedictions for this man who had done\nso much for their race, and to receive a blessing from his soul, knowing\nit would impart to them strength, inspiration, and courage.\n\nFollowing these came hosts of others, men, women, and children, of every\nrace and color, those who had felt the hand of tyranny, injustice, and\noppression in some one or more of its many shapes. Red and white, the\nNorth American Indian and the Russian serf, delicate women, who had\nsuffered in homes made unhappy by intemperance or by the cruelty of\ntyrannical brutality,\u2014all came to bless this good man as their\nbenefactor and friend; and their presence brought a joy to his spirit no\nmortal can understand.\n\nTurning earthward, we perceived great billows of golden light, waves of\nroseate beauty, clouds of azure and snowy brightness ascending, until\nthey enveloped our guest with their fragrant splendor, irradiating his\nwhole being with a new brilliancy, a new loveliness of expression. Each\nwave of light that thus arose expressed to us from its peculiar hue and\nits own delicate aroma the emotion which it represented; the golden hue\nsymbolized truth and earnestness, the roseate love and sympathy, the\nazure fidelity and gratitude, and the white purity and peace. We\nperceived these auras mingling and blending together into beautiful\nharmony, and flowing out from hearts encased in mortal, who, though\nsaddened at the decease of Mr. Garrison, yet sent out after his ascended\nspirit love, sympathy and blessings.\n\nFrom the colored people assembled to pay their tribute of love and\nrespect to his memory; from the hearts of earnest women, who speak in\nsolemn sweetness of his helpfulness and cheer; from the souls of good\nmen and women everywhere, who loved and honored him; from the soul of\nthat silver-tongued friend[7] and orator who dares to stand forth and\npay honest, just, and loving tribute as a fitting eulogy to his departed\nfriend; from the pure and loving heart of that peaceful poet soul[8] who\nsings in rhymed sweetness the honor of his friend;\u2014from all these\nascended those emanations of light and beauty and fragrance. Musical\nwith the silvery sweetness borne from the souls of friends on earth,\nthey bathed his spirit in a fount of eternal joy and blessing.\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n Wendel Phillips.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n John G. Whittier.\n\nWhat need of golden harps and streets of pearl? He treads the flowery\npaths of spirit life, not idle, not basking in dreamless rest. The\nenergy of power, the moving force of aspiration, the impulse of desire\nare all his, and already his soul is marching on in the ranks of those\nlofty ones whose mission is to toil on until man becomes uplifted into\nthe sphere of universal Love; until all wrong shall flee, tyranny die,\nand liberty and knowledge dwell in the homes of all people.\n\nPress on, noble soul! The victor\u2019s palm is thine, for thou hast\nwitnessed the triumph of justice and right; the crown of glory is thine,\nfor thy soul is crowned with the diadem of perfect Love.\n\nPress on, white-robed soul! for the bright fruition that awaits thee!\n\nThe following chapters are devoted to a recital of the experiences of J.\nC. Prince, as narrated by himself, and published in the _Voice of\nAngels_. We have alluded to letters of approval and of interest\nconcerning these experiences received by the editor of that paper from\nvarious quarters. The following extract from a published letter of one\nof these correspondents is here given, for the reason that it was penned\nby one intimately acquainted with Mr. Prince in earthly life, and\nfamiliar with the general style of his compositions:\u2014\n\n \u201cNEPHI, UTAH, Sept. 6, 1878.\n\n To the Editor of the _Voice of Angels_:\n\n Dear Brother,\u2014I have felt like writing to you since you began to\n publish the spirit experiences of John Critchley Prince, for I have\n been deeply interested in reading his statements as they appear in\n your paper. I am from the same part of England where Mr. Prince dwelt\n when in the body, and was in 1850 a power-loom weaver in the West\n Mills at Ashton-under-Lyne, where he then resided. I always admired\n his poems, and, next to Byron, esteemed his poetry the grandest and\n best I had then read. * * * * * I recognize the mind of John Critchley\n Prince, the Lancashire poet, in every line of his account of his earth\n life in your paper; my wife also recognizes it, she having attended\n select parties where he recited some of his best poems, in Duckenfield\n and Ashton-under-Lyne, and we read in surprise and astonishment his\n first contribution to the _Voice_, not expecting anything of the kind;\n it was to us most interesting and agreeable. We congratulate you upon\n the acquisition of so noble a soul to your staff of contributors, and\n hope he will often give us his rich effusions through your paper.\n\n Your brother and well-wisher,\n THOMAS J. SCHOFIELD.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XXI.\n MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES ON EARTH.\n\n\nMy Friends,\u2014Bearing the fraternal greetings of not only myself but hosts\nof higher spirits, whose pleasure and duty it is to mingle with you\nhere, and who strive to teach you wisdom and knowledge concerning the\nhighest, grandest phase of human existence, that of the immortal soul, I\ncome laden with the experiences of a modicum of time passed in the\nsuper-mundane spheres, and crave an opportunity of unfolding them before\nyou,\u2014not with a desire for earthly recognition or adulation,\u2014but with\nthe hope that I may be enabled to show humanity the reality of those\nconditions that we aggregate to ourselves while in mortal, and their\npractical effects on the soul, trusting that I may enlighten you\nsomewhat as to _real life_, and its mode of manifestation in the upper\nspheres; for it is time that mortals should understand more of the life\nto which they are going.\n\nIt is now[9] a period of seventy years since I, John Critchley Prince,\nwas born upon the earthly plane, at Wigan, Lancashire, England, of poor,\nhard-working, honest parents. My only schooling was given me at a\nBaptist Sunday school, where I received a slight knowledge of reading\nand writing. But as I read with avidity all sorts of books that happened\nto fall in my way, I acquired a certain command of language, and\nknowledge of composition, that served in after years as a noble\nsubstitute for the education I was unable to procure, and which I always\ncraved. At the early age of nine years I was obliged to labor for my\nliving as a reed-maker for weavers, at which I was kept busy for sixteen\nhours per day, and my only opportunity for indulging in the luxury of\nreading was stolen from sleep.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n The above was written in the spring of 1878.\n\nIn 1821 I accompanied my father to Manchester, where we both obtained\nemployment as machinists. There, for the first time, I came across a\ncopy of Byron\u2019s works, which I devoured with astonishing rapidity,\ndrinking in and retaining all the glory, fire, and beauty of those\nexquisite lines, and their delicate imagery, that made Byron, despite\nhis faults, one of nature\u2019s poets. What a world of delight, what a scene\nof enchantment was for the first time opened before me. I seemed to\nbreathe a new atmosphere, one that thrilled my being to its very center;\nand while reveling in the new fields of splendor I had found, I forgot\nmy poverty and toil; my soul stood forth erect in its conscious dignity\nand pride, feeling itself to be no longer a poor, toiling slave, but a\ncreature of the universe, with powers and capabilities of expansion and\ngrowth. It was then I determined that some day I would sing my songs,\nand give them forth to the world.\n\nBut my life went on in the old routine, still toiling in the shop, and\ndreaming my dreams all unknown to others, until my father again changed\nhis abode to Hyde, taking me with him. There, in the early flush of\nawakening manhood, ere nineteen summers had passed over my head, came to\nmy waiting soul that most exquisite of all life\u2019s experiences, \u201cLove\u2019s\nyoung dream.\u201d It came upon me like the first sweet dewy blush of early\nmorn, bathing my spirit in a flood-tide of ineffable glory, and\nthrilling my heart with that ecstatic bliss that I think none but a\npoetic soul, attuned in harmony with nature and her works, and thus\nenabled to find happiness in spite of toil or sorrow, can fully realize.\nAnd here let me say that to this day, returning as I do from the\nimmortal shore, I thank God for that experience of true, heartfelt\nemotion. It accompanied me through all my life like the melody of a\nhappy song, and thrilled my despairing soul with its sweetness. It ran\nthrough my evil days of wrong-doing like a golden thread, and with its\nsparkling light revealed to me the glory and honor, the sweetness and\npurity, of life that might have been mine.\n\nIt is useless for me to attempt to depict the image of my charmer to\nyou. To others, she was only a neighbor\u2019s lassie, good enough and pretty\nin her way, but nothing uncommon. To me she was all that was fair and\ncanny, and as beautiful and good as Eve appeared to her Adam, in all her\ninnocent purity of expression on that first awakening which we are told\nof in the beautiful allegory of old.\n\nIn 1827 I was united to my dear one, and we commenced life anew, as\nhappy as two birds; and, though from my poetic fancy and ardent\ntemperament, I was led to look for more happiness in a life of conjugal\nfelicity than it is possible for mortals to attain, yet, upon the whole,\nmy domestic life was a blessing to my inner self, and in its bowers I\nwove some of the sweetest garlands that graced my name.\n\nPoverty and toil, with their train of evils, still attended me, and in\n1830, work being slack at home, I went to Picardy, leaving my family of\nwife and three children. The revolution had paralyzed trade in France,\nand it was impossible to procure employment there; consequently, after\nexperiencing much suffering, I returned home only to find my family in a\nworkhouse, from whence I removed them to a Manchester garret, where we\nwould have starved had it not been for the labors of my wife at\npower-loom weaving. That was a time of misery. At length I obtained\ntemporary employment, and our prospects began to brighten a little, but\nthrough all my life a scarcity of remunerative work seemed to attend me\nlike a fatality.\n\nDuring my residence at Manchester I began to contribute short poetic\npieces to the local papers and periodicals, which, by the kindness of\nfriends, and those powerful in government affairs, whose attention was\nfirst called to me by the perusal of my literary productions, were\nissued in volumes from time to time. The first of these, \u201cHours with the\nMuses,\u201d was brought out in 1840, and reached its third edition in two\nyears. The subsequent volumes were: \u201cDreams and Realities in Verse,\u201d\n1847; the \u201cPoetic Rosary,\u201d 1856; \u201cMiscellaneous Poems,\u201d 1861, and one\nmore containing all my principal poems, published the year of my death,\n1866. I have been accused of imitating the style of others, but while I\nmay have done so to some extent, I think none of my critics will deny\nthat the ideas expressed, and the thoughts embodied, together with the\narrangement of language in my productions, were entirely my own. At the\nsame time I was never satisfied with my efforts; none of them reached my\nstandard of excellence, and they sometimes bore marks of my\ndisappointment and dissatisfaction.\n\nFrom the disappointments I had encountered in early manhood, I was all\ntoo easily induced to hie away from my squalid attic home to the\npublic-house, where, in the company of men who pretended to admire my\n\u201cgenius,\u201d and to court my society, I would spend hours, aye, days, away\nfrom home, indulging in sin, thereby seeking to drown the memory of\ndisappointed ambition and blighted hopes. And to this habit, together\nwith a certain unsteadiness of purpose that kept me from holding on to\nany employment for any length of time, I am indebted for many of my\nearly experiences in spirit life, some account of which I hope to unfold\nbefore you, that you may learn how a soul is plunged in darkness from\nthe effects of deeds done in the body, and also how it may progress\nthrough degradation and woe to scenes of happiness and peace, if it only\ndesires to do so.\n\nI have been thus prolix concerning my mortal life that you may better\nunderstand my experiences in the spirit, and though I may have seemed\ntoo personal, it was unavoidable, and I crave your kind indulgence. It\nis impossible for me to convey to you any adequate conception of the\necstatic bliss I experienced in spirit when lifted above material bonds,\nand basking in the realm of poetic fancy; of the toil and sorrow of my\nphysical existence, or of my feeling of utter degradation and\nself-contempt when recovering from a debauch, all of which I was\ncompelled to outlive in spirit.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XXII.\n MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE SPIRIT WORLD.\n\n\nMay 5, 1866, I parted with my tenement of clay, and was born into the\nworld, not only of primal _causes_, but also that in which all _effects_\nof past living are made manifest. Mind and body were alike a wreck. I\nhad no great satisfaction for the past, and but little hope for the\nfuture.\n\nWhile passing out from the material I was dimly conscious of a crowd of\nbeings pressing around me,\u2014faces I had known long before, but which I\nhad not seen for years, forms once familiar, but which the passing\nscenes of life had blotted from memory; men whom I had met in times past\naround the social board, and amid scenes of convivial allurement, where\nwe had wasted the precious, God-given moments in song or story,\nunfruitful of any profitable result; those of whose destiny I was\nignorant, and whom I supposed had forgotten me as I had ceased to\nremember them; all were here, recalling by their presence scenes and\nmemories that I could wish to be dead and buried beyond possibility of\nresurrection.\n\nAll the events of my life passed before my inner vision like a panorama,\nand I saw myself as others saw me,\u2014the victim of wasted energies and an\nill-spent life. How keenly did I regret much that I had done, and much\nmore that I might have done, but did not! It was then and there, while\nseemingly unconscious to mortal things, I began to fully realize that\nomission is oftentimes as great a sin as commission,\u2014that inactivity is\nas disastrous to the spirit as misplaced volition.\n\nAt this time, I did not see the forms and faces of any of those I had\nloved, and whom it might be supposed would be first at the death-bed of\none so near to them. These forms and phantoms that surrounded me were\nencompassed by a cloud of heavy vapor, that entirely veiled the horizon\nfrom my sight. I strove to turn from them, but could not; they hedged me\nin on every side, and, while they spake no word, they seemed to mock me\nwith their taunting looks and gestures.\n\nThis was my first spirit experience. I have since learned that it\nconsisted entirely of the reflection of past recollections upon my mind,\nbut it was extremely annoying and unpleasant.\n\nMy next experience was standing by myself, outside of my physical body,\nalone, so far as I could see, gazing down upon the old, worn-out\ntenement, that I had recently vacated. I found myself clothed in a body\nprecisely similar to the one I had left, and not in much better\ncondition, apparently. I was perplexed and bewildered; for, though\nspurning many of the old theologic notions of the Hereafter, this was\ncertainly not the fulfillment of my conceptions of a future life.\n\nI gazed around, hoping to attract the attention of some one who could\ngive me an explanation, or in the expectation of meeting my boon\ncompanions; but all in vain,\u2014I could see no one. All was misty, or\nrather in a smoky fog, like the streets of London at midday, though I\nhave since been informed that I was not alone; that there were loving,\nhelping spirits watching over me, to assist me when possible, but my\nmental condition prevented me from perceiving them; and that the smoky\nvapor was an emanation from my own spirit, and did not proceed from the\nstate of the atmosphere.\n\nWhile ruminating to myself, as collectedly as my condition would allow,\nI observed a party of individuals approach and take a view of my\nremains; and what appeared very curious to me, while they seemed very\nfar away from me, I could distinctly hear their remarks. These parties\nwere mortals, still dwelling on earth, drawn by a morbid kind of\ninterest to take a final view of my body. However, I would they had\nstayed away, for they did my spirit more harm than good.\n\n\u201cPoor devil,\u201d said one, \u201che\u2019s gone at last. Well, he made a wreck of\nhimself, sure enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d replied another; \u201che might have done better, but he would not;\nand so he\u2019s gone. I always knew how it would turn out.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith all his singing and dreaming,\u201d remarked a third, \u201che was no better\nthan the rest of us. The old one would show himself pretty often.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s so,\u201d chimed in the fourth; \u201cwilt thee look at him now, lying\nthere, when he might have been alive and well, like the rest of us!\nWell, he\u2019s gone to his account now, poor lad!\u201d\n\nI waited to hear no more. Mind and brain were alike maddened by what I\n_had_ heard. It was all true enough; but every word seemed like a\nscorpion\u2019s sting, to pierce my soul. Who were these, that they should\ncondemn one who had not the power to defend himself? Were they free from\nthe common taint of sin?\n\nThus I questioned; but unable to solve the mighty problems that seemed\npressing down upon me, I made one herculean effort, and, bursting the\nbonds that confined me to my useless body, I rushed from the place, away\nI knew not where, I cared not; only to get relief for my burning,\ntortured soul.\n\nAnd here allow, if you please, one digression. Let me warn you, oh,\nmortals, to mind how you speak and think of those who have departed the\nmortal life. Let your thoughts and words be as charitable and kind as\npossible; for by so doing you may furnish a beacon-light that will\nbrighten their paths upward. But if you speak ill of them, if you hurl\nthe stone of censure at departing spirits, you may furnish the heavy\nweight that will drag them downward.\n\nAlas, I did not understand the cure of sin-sick, tortured souls; and I\nsought that refuge that had been, and was now again, my curse, but which\nI vainly thought would drown all recollection and bring relief.\n\nI soon found myself in a well-known spot, one of my former haunts\u2014the\nback parlor, just beyond the taproom\u2014of a public-house. I seated myself\nas naturally as ever, and waited for some one to comply with my demand\nfor liquor; but while the bar-maid flitted about, here and there, and\nseveral times brushed against my person in passing, she paid no\nattention to me whatever, and I felt myself neglected indeed.\n\nPresently, I observed, entering the apartment, one whom I had\noccasionally seen at that resort, and who I understood to be a hard\ndrinker. He called for liquor, and when it was brought, raised the glass\nto his lips. Suddenly, by a sort of fascination, I was drawn to his\nside, and while he poured the fiery liquid down his throat, my whole\nbeing seemed to vibrate in sympathy, and became saturated with the fumes\nof the liquor. At every drop he tasted, I seemed to quaff a\ncorresponding one; and I found I could indulge myself in that way to any\nextent. I remained by his side, drinking long and deep. Our potations\nlasted for hours. Oh, the craving desire I had for that deadly fluid! My\ndeep delight and utter abandonment of self you cannot realize.\n\nAt last our potations ceased. Abused and outraged nature could bear no\nmore, and my companion sunk down in a complete state of insensibility.\nThen I strove to tear myself from him, but all in vain; I was held to\nhis prostrate form by a cord as unyielding as bands of steel; I could\nnot free myself from the conditions I had brought upon me.\n\nAnd here my retribution began; for, while the liquid we had drank\ntogether had drugged his senses, and benumbed his faculties, it had\naffected me in an entirely different way, serving to arouse all my\nsensibilities, fire my nervous system with flames of unquenchable\ndesire, and, in fact, to make me keenly alive to all my surroundings.\nThe least noise fell upon my hearing like the dismal knell of a lost\nsoul; the sound of a passing foot startled me like a peal of thunder;\nand when the time-piece of the old clockhouse tolled the hour, my whole\nbeing vibrated in unison. I wanted to get away from everybody and\neverything I had known,\u2014to be alone by myself where no one could find\nme, where life and activity were unknown, and where I could rest my\nburning brain.\n\nAlas, I could not! Like one tied to a stake, I was condemned to pass\nwhat seemed to me a century of time by the side of one with whom I had\nnothing in common, save the craving of a perverted appetite. I cannot\nconvey to you an idea of the horror, darkness, and despair that rent my\nsoul while thus bound to that form of besotted humanity. The hours\ndragged, until at last there came a gleam of relief. Boniface entered\nthe apartment, aroused my sleeping companion, and sent him to the\npump-room to bathe his head. At the first plash of the water a thrill of\nexquisite delight passed over me; a second and a third, and the band\nthat had held me snapped in twain, and I was free. Never did weary\ncaptive rejoice at his deliverance more than did I at that moment. I\nmade no stay, but hastened from the place, and have never seen it nor\nits inmates since.\n\nStill drifting along, my only aim and purpose being to gain some lonely,\nretired spot, where I might find rest and refreshment, I soon found\nmyself rising gradually from the ground, and floating or sailing along,\nabove the heads of the people.\n\nBefore long, the city streets vanished from my sight, and I seemed to be\napproaching a strange part of the country; houses and warehouses\ndisappeared, sunny glades and shady nooks came into view; forest trees,\nclothed with garments of living green, beneath which tiny flowerets\nnodded their spicy heads, and scented the balmy air with their rich\nperfume.\n\nAway to the left I perceived the azure gleam of dimpling, sparkling\nwaters; in the distance, towered the lofty peaks of purple-crested\nmountains; the sun shone brightly in the heavens, while the atmosphere\nbecame melodious with the hum of insects and the chirping of birds. No\nsound nor sight of human life could I perceive; all was silent, save the\nmurmurings of nature, which fell upon my tortured being like an anthem\nof peace.\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d said I to myself, \u201cthis must be another country; it is\nentirely different from any I have ever seen before; the atmosphere\nwears that peculiar, transparent haze seen only in the lands of a\nSouthern clime.\u201d\n\nBut I was too weary for further cognitions. I seemed to drink in the\ncharm and beauty of the scene without any volition of will or thought,\nand to find comfort and rest in so doing.\n\nAt last, I descried a perfect gem of a spot, one that appeared formed\nfor a fairy bower; just beyond a leaping, laughing streamlet of limpid\nwater, nestling quietly at the foot of a moss-covered, arch-shaped rocky\nwall, I beheld a tiny cove, so beautiful that it seemed almost sacrilege\nto intrude therein.\n\nEmerald banks, as beautiful as silk pile velvet, starred with a\nprofusion of creamy golden-eyed blossoms; trailing vines like\nmaiden-hair ferns creeping over the rocks; shrubs of vivid green, with\nscarlet bells, swinging their perfumed censers upon the breeze;\nsparkling sunbeams and cooling shadows, constituted a place of repose\nthat a monarch might enjoy.\n\nAnd there, amid the beauties of Nature\u2019s works, surrounded by the\nsplendors of creation, pointing to the wondrous power and beneficence of\nGod, I sank down upon the emerald sod; and, lulled by the peace and\nquiet of the place, my fevered senses grew calm, my pulses even, the\nblood cooled in my veins, and I fell into as complete a slumber as it is\npossible for a disembodied spirit to experience.\n\nI was unconscious of the lapse of time, yet I now know it was several\ndays before I again awoke to a knowledge of my external surroundings.\n\nI was still alone; no human presence could I discern; the flowers still\nbloomed, the waters danced and gleamed, the sun shone, and all was as\nbeautiful and as real as before. It appeared to me I had reposed there\nbut a few short hours.\n\nI aroused myself, and, stepping down to the banks of the stream,\nproceeded to lave my face and hands, precisely as I would have done were\nI in the body. The water refreshed me. I seemed renewed with life and\nvigor; but with the new strength there also came a remembrance of what I\nhad been, and what I had done, and I sank down upon the mossy bed\noverwhelmed with the recollection of my folly and madness.\n\nRemorse had again entered my presence, and my soul cowered down before\nit in bitter agony; tears and sobs mingled together and shook my frame\nto its very center, and I wrestled in spirit with the \u201cmight have been,\u201d\nwhich was as tangible to me as any objective form would be to mortals.\n\nAs the tempest within my spirit grew less, I began to _feel_ a\nholy presence approaching. Presently a low, soft strain of\nexquisitely-modulated music fell upon my hearing; so faint, yet so\nsweet, did it at first appear that it seemed to blend with and\nform a part of the music of the murmuring waters and rustling\nleaves. Gradually it swelled louder, clearer, and sweeter, until\nit culminated in a burst of triumphant ecstasy, that made the very\ngrasses leap in unison.\n\nMy whole being was stilled; a deep peace pervaded my system. I was a\n_man_ again,\u2014a creature of God, and one worthy to become a\nrepresentative of his kingdom.\n\nAs these thoughts permeated my being, causing it to grow calm and\nrestful, I felt what seemed to be a breath of cool, invigorating air\nupon my temples, thrilling my whole frame with an indescribable\nsensation of delight, and, on looking up, I was amazed, but not\nstartled, to observe the form of a venerable patriarch bending over me,\nand manipulating my brow with the tips of his fingers.\n\nHis face was smooth and fair, as though no carking care had ever left\nits impress thereon, surmounted by a lofty brow, gleaming with a might\nof intellect, and crowned with a wealth of snowy, silken hair. A long,\nmassy beard, lustrous with whiteness, fell upon his breast. He was clad\nin a long, purple robe of silken stuff; sandals of glistening brightness\nwere upon his feet, while in his hand he carried a staff that was\nremarkable for its brilliancy. His features were luminous with the light\nof reflected love and benevolence; a halo of radiance encircled his\nwhole being, which scintillated with sparks of light as he moved.\n\nSubsequently I learned that this halo was the aura flowing forth from\nhis spiritual structure, the brilliancy of which revealed the purity and\nbeauty of his interior condition.\n\nAbashed and humbled before the majestic glory of this presence, I hid my\nface from sight, and cowered down as if for concealment.\n\n\u201cFear not, my son, I have come to help and encourage thee; thy mortal\nways were rough and devious; thy spiritual paths shall yet be ways of\npeace. Lift up thine head, that thy soul may be annointed with the balm\nof healing.\u201d\n\nI had heard no sound of voice, and yet these were the thoughts that\nflowed into the interior sensorium of my mind, as the mystic being\ncontinued to soothe my brow with his finger-tips. I raised my head in\nquestioning amaze, and gazed upon him in wonder.\n\n\u201cThee questions who and what I am,\u201d again came the thoughts, not spoken,\nbut impressed upon my mind; \u201cI am one appointed to seek out and instruct\nsouls like thine, who are in need of assistance; thee mayst call me\n\u2018Benja, the Missionary;\u2019 I am drawn to thee, to point out the way of\nsalvation, and to give thee strength and encouragement; thou hast fought\nthe first battle and won the victory; press on, and thou shalt win the\ngoal.\u201d\n\nThe thoughts, and indeed the presence of the missionary, sent a thrill\nof pleasure through my whole being. Hope spread her rosy pinions above\nme, and I became strong, as I thought, for any conflict.\n\n\u201cThou hast won thy first victory,\u201d repeated the sage, \u201cbut still other\ntrials await thee; self-abnegation and the renunciation of those\nappetites and passions that have in a measure swayed the spirit come not\nall at once. Reformation is a work of time. Therefore, my son, trust not\ntoo much to thine own strength, but rather let thy soul\u2019s aspirations\nreach outward and upward toward heavenly things, bearing with them a\ndesire for assistance and guidance. Neither be cast down, for\neventually, a noble existence will be thine. Look around thee upon these\nlaughing meadows and leaping waters. Thou wouldst know in what locality\nthou art.\n\n\u201cThis is the valley of self-examination. Every soul in passing out from\nmaterial life is borne to some spot connected with this place. Certain\ntemperaments are taken to yonder mountains, upon the lofty heights of\nwhich their souls are left to take a retrospective glance back upon\ntheir past lives, their actions, and motives, and to commune silently\nwith themselves concerning life and its duties; others to that sheet of\nclear water you observe in the distance, into which they are forced to\nplunge, that they may be cleansed of the impurities that cling to their\nspirits.\n\n\u201cPoetic souls like thine are conveyed to this charming valley, where, in\nthe contemplation of Nature\u2019s works, they find peace and strength to go\non with the task of self-examination, and the attaining of a desire to\nbecome worthy of better things.\u201d\n\nThe ideas flowing into my mind from the sage ceased, and in a moment\nmore I was again alone. Suddenly the desire seized me to plunge into the\nstream babbling at my feet. I did so; the sensation was to me that of\nbathing in a stream of warm, perfumed water; it seemed to penetrate\nthrough the pores of my skin, invigorating my system to a wonderful\ndegree. I remained in the stream for a short time, and upon emerging\nfrom the bath and surveying myself, I found I had undergone a decided\nchange. My skin had become soft and fair; the florid appearance had\ngone, my hair had lost many of its silver threads, and my limbs felt\nlithe and elastic.\n\nMy garments, too, were renovated, having lost their thread-bare\nappearance, and altogether I felt and acted like a new creature. At the\nfoot of a flowering shrub I perceived a polished staff, which I\nappropriated, and with it, as a support, I set off to explore the\nsurrounding country.\n\nI traveled leisurely; every step of the way revealed new beauties to me,\nthe splendors of which it is impossible to describe,\u2014shady groves,\nwherein the dryads of old might have loved to wander; sunny glades, rich\nwith their tapestried carpets of flower-gemmed verdure; gushing streams\nand natural fountains bursting from the moss-covered rocks. All that\ncould delight the eye and enchant the senses was spread before me, and I\ntrudged on, breathing in the beauty around with no thought of, or desire\nfor, companionship.\n\nBy-and-bye I came to an evergreen hedge; it was very long, but after a\ntime I came to a large opening through which I passed, and found myself\nin an extensive garden, the beauty of which I had never seen surpassed.\nParterres of beautiful flowers lay spread out before me, showing the\ncultivation of art, and scenting the balmy air with their rich perfume.\nMarble basins received the sparkling water falling from numerous silvery\nfountains; lofty trees waved their branches high in the air, and cast a\ngrateful shade; here and there mossy banks invited to repose; birds sang\nin the trees and amid blossoming shrubs. Away in the distance I saw the\nblue gleam of what appeared to me to be a vast lake, upon the margin of\nwhich I could perceive a number of white-robed forms flitting to and\nfro; the atmosphere was redolent with beauty and sweetness, while above\nall the golden sun shone in the azure vault of heaven.\n\nHitherto I had been in the natural country where no effort had been made\nto alter or improve Nature\u2019s works; but here were to be seen evidences\nof human art and skill, brought in to cultivate and develop the natural\ninto higher types of beauty. I passed into one of the groves at my left,\nand seated myself upon a rustic bench before a long table of stone, upon\nwhich were spread fruits of every description, some of which were\nunfamiliar to me. Above the table was suspended an inscription, which\nread: \u201cAll are welcome; partake and refresh thyself.\u201d\n\nI needed no other bidding; I was hungry and faint; and never did viands\nor nectar taste better to the gods than did the fruit, and the sparkling\nwater which I drew from a fountain close by, to my parched palate.\n\nI rested awhile, and then proceeded on. As I approached the lake, I\nsuddenly found myself surrounded by a bevy of white-robed creatures, all\nyoung and fair and beautiful to behold. I contrasted my appearance with\ntheirs, and though I had congratulated myself on my own improvement not\nlong before, I now appeared dark and dust-worn by the side of these\nfresh young souls.\n\nI sought to withdraw, but this they would not permit; for, closing\naround me in a circle, they intercepted all means of egress. I stood\nwith downcast eyes, humbled and ashamed, when one young maiden\napproached, and laying her hand upon my shoulder, said in tones, the\nflute-like sweetness of which I shall never forget: \u201cDo you not know me?\nI am one who was very dear to you; I have lived in this beautiful spot\nso long, waiting for you to come; surely you must know me, and will\nreceive the love I have been keeping for you.\u201d\n\nI raised my eyes and scanned those lovely features. Surely, aye, surely\nI recognized them; more beautiful, further developed, and stamped with a\nlovelier grace and more charming expression than I had known; yet the\nsame winning smile, the shining hair, and sparkling eyes of my darling\nwere before me, in more than radiant splendor.\n\nI could not speak; it was too much! Oh, had I known I should meet my\nloved one thus, how I would have prepared myself to become fit to enter\nher celestial presence!\n\nDivining my thoughts, the dear one twined her snowy arms around my neck,\nand whispering, \u201cI am so happy, oh, so happy to meet you!\u201d laid her\nsilken head upon my breast, and all unworthy as I knew myself to be, I\nclasped her in a tender, loving, soul-full embrace.\n\nRaising her head, my dear one said: \u201cThese are my companions, come to\nwelcome you to the Summer-land. They all know of you, and love you for\nwhat you are worth; they have been with you when you have given forth\nthe sweet expressions of the soul, and they know what you are capable of\nbecoming.\u201d\n\nShe led me to a mossy seat, and the fair group, ranging themselves\naround us, began to sing a song of welcome, the sweetness of which can\nnever be surpassed.\n\nI do not propose to draw these experiences out to great length,\ntherefore cannot tell you all that transpired in this lovely spot.\n\nI was welcomed, given a happy home for my abiding place, but left free\nto wander wherever I would. Surrounded by loving faces, and ministered\nto with tender care, I sank into a state of dreamy bliss, well suited to\nmy peculiar temperament.\n\nYou may think I had passed through the temptations of life, I had\nrenounced its follies, and repented of its mistakes. But repentance is\nnot a thing of a day or a month; memory has written her score upon the\ntablets of the soul, and if blotted and scarred, it takes time and labor\nto efface their unsightliness. I did not know this at the time, but\ninactivity is the bane of life, and the soul that is idle cannot go\nforward.\n\nIt was some time after I had entered this paradise, and been welcomed by\nangels, I was seated within the enclosure of a marble pavilion, and\ndreamily gazing out upon the sunny slope, when I became conscious of the\npresence of the missionary I had met in the valley, who spoke these\nwords and vanished: \u201cMy son, life is earnest; thou hast queried why thou\ncanst not write the soul-stirring poems of the past. It is because thou\nart inactive. Look about thee, and see if there is nothing to do, if not\nfor thyself, for some other in need. Wouldst thou become noble and\ngrand? Then work for it. In _this_ world the harvest comes only to him\nwho plants and tends the seed.\u201d\n\nI was confounded and confused. Stung into activity, I waited for no one,\nbut hastened from the place and from the wonderful garden. I determined\nto do something, to go somewhere; but I knew not what course to pursue.\nSoon I felt a desire to return to earth and see what was going on there.\nPerhaps I could find something to do, or some inspiration for poesy. Ah,\nI knew not that I was still weak, and unable to cope with temptation;\nthat I was again destined to fall into the mire. But thus it was; yet,\nthank God, for the last time! Of that I will inform you in my next\nchapter.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XXIII.\n THE POET\u2019S COUNCIL.\n\n\nAgain I appeared to be drawn toward the earth. Recollections of old\nassociations began to revive in my mind, and I felt a desire to return,\nand once more mingle with mortal life, urged on by the thought that\nperchance I should there find something to do.\n\nImpelled onward by an inner impulse, I soon found myself in the crowded\nstreets of a vast city: every thing looked familiar, and when I espied\nthe glittering cross of St. Paul\u2019s gleaming through the smoke and dust,\nI knew that I was again in the heart of London.\n\nNobody appeared to take any notice of me; all were hurrying on, intent\nupon their own affairs, and I was as one virtually alone, even in the\ncrowded, teeming mart of a vast metropolis.\n\nI threaded my way leisurely along (for since I had entered the material\nplane again the reckless impetuosity that sped me on had vanished),\npausing now and again to watch the tide of restless, surging humanity,\nas it flowed along, with no definite aim or end in view, when I was\nbrought to a sudden stand-still, by hearing my own name pronounced by\none of two gentlemen just in front of me.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he, \u201cwe are going to hold a little social levee at the club\ntonight, and to pay our tribute of respect to the memory of Critchley\nPrince. Poor fellow, he was his own worst foe, and he blotted his own\ncareer; but the works he left, and the songs he sung, show his to have\nbeen a gifted, sympathetic soul. For that reason we have drawn up a set\nof resolutions, and have determined to call our meeting together this\nevening, in honor of the departed poet. You had better make one of us.\u201d\n\nThe other gentleman replied that he would be with them, if possible; and\nI determined that I would also be there.\n\nI recognized the first speaker as one of the most brilliant and noted\n_literati_ of the day, one who is even now a dweller on earth, courted\nfor his genius, and loved and respected for his benevolent heart and\nsympathetic soul; at that time he was about fifty years of age, and full\nof life and energy. I knew him to be a member of a certain literary\nclub, all the members of which were men of brilliant intellect, not a\nfew of whom were well-known in the literary world; and it was this\nclub-meeting that I had determined to visit, partly out of curiosity to\nhear what might be said of myself, and partly to witness the\nproceedings, knowing full well that a feast of intellectual dainties\nawaited whoever should be fortunate enough to enter.\n\nThe two friends parted at a certain corner, but I remained with the man\nof genius, resolving that I would not leave him until he arrived at the\nevening gathering; and I did not.\n\nPromptly at the hour appointed, the company gathered in the parlors of\nthe organization, myself among the number.\n\nI do not propose to reveal all that was said and done on the occasion.\nThe meeting was a most enjoyable one; gems of thought, original ideas,\nbrilliant repartee, and flowery _bon mots_ circulated freely from mind\nto mind; in short, the occasion was a feast of intellectual glory, that\ncould not fail to arouse the enthusiasm of any but the most stupefied\nspirits. The eulogy and the encomiums paid to the memory of Critchley\nPrince were kind, and well calculated, coming as they did from the\nhearts of England\u2019s most gifted sons, to awaken a feeling of pride and\ngratification in the heart of him of whom they were spoken.\n\nBut, alas, this banquet of ennobling thought and chaste, exquisite\nexpression, which alone would have refreshed and invigorated the soul,\nand at which even the angels of heaven might have been pleased to\npreside\u2014this festal board\u2014needs must have been polluted by the presence\nof costly wines, and rich, rare, body-clogging viands. Aye, it is true\nthat there, where no feast of a material nature was needed, where,\nindeed, it would only serve to lower the time and place into a scene of\nsensual festivity, the wine-cup passed from hand to hand, brilliant\ntoasts were given and repeated, and I, in company with others, again\ntasted the perfumed draught that ever tends to degrade humanity.\n\nIt is true that I did not drug myself into insensibility, neither did\nany one of that assembled company; nor did I become so intensely alive\nin every sense and avenue of feeling as heretofore, yet I partook of the\nfluid, and again found that I was not strong enough to resist temptation\nand to overcome the evil habit.\n\nI lingered at this enchanted spot for hours, indeed, until the assembly\ndispersed, each member seeking his abode, with brain fired by alcoholic\nstimulants, and yet apparently none the worse for what he had taken.\n\nHighly pleased with my reception and entertainment, I separated from my\ngood friends, and thinking I should like to take a walk, wandered forth,\nunder the glorious orbs of early morn. My brain was heated and all astir\nwith phantom-like thoughts flitting through it. I soon paused upon a\nbridge of the Thames, and at once a desire entered my mind to fling\nmyself into the river\u2019s depths. I wondered what effect such an act would\nhave upon me; I knew that I was a disembodied spirit, and therefore\ncould not destroy my existence; still I did not know but I might\nexperience some shock to my system, like that felt by drowning\nmortality.\n\nHowever, I determined to take the leap, which I did. No sooner had I\ndone so than, instead of sinking under the water, I found myself slowly\nrising. I could not feel the water at all; it seemed as though I were\nfloating upward upon a cloud.\n\nRising still higher and higher, I at length found myself resting upon a\nstrip of rocky, barren land; I knew that I was again beyond the bounds\nof earth, but in what part of spirit life I was entirely ignorant; all\nwas dreary and desolate. By this time I had recovered in a measure from\nthe effects of the wine-bibbing, and thought and memory again went\nbounding through my mind with startling intensity.\n\nResting against a giant rock, that reared its head far upward toward the\nmurky sky, I gave myself up to gloomy retrospection. What good had I\ndone,\u2014what work accomplished? Nothing; I had again fallen before the\ntempter; I was weak and helpless, powerless of will, of no use to myself\nnor to my kind! Why, oh, why must I continue to drag out such a shameful\nexistence?\n\nThus I mused and mourned, groaning deep in agony of spirit; my remorse\nwas genuine, but I had not the power (or rather I thought I had not) to\nagain rise after this my latest fall from self-respect.\n\nThe hot sun came out and glowed with a lurid light; not a shrub or trace\nof vegetation were to be seen; all was stony and barren,\u2014no sign of\nlife, except far up, perched on the crags, there sat a bird of sable\nplumage, that now and then flapped its wings, and seemed to mutter and\ncroak in mockery of my torment. I remembered the \u201cRaven\u201d of the American\npoet, and wondered if this too was a creation of my fevered brain, and I\nwas to be haunted henceforth with the presence of this ominous creature.\nAt last it flapped its wings and flew away, and I sank into a kind of\nhalf-dreamless lethargy, which lasted I know not how long; but at length\nI was aroused by the touch of a cool hand upon my head, to find the\npresence of my missionary guide, \u201cBenja.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, my son,\u201d said he; \u201cthou hast done well; thou needst have no fear.\nThou art upon the heights of self-condemnation. It is true thou hast a\nfew more trials to bear ere thou canst enjoy the full glories of\nspiritual existence; but all the steps thou hast taken were necessary to\nthy well-being; they were what thou needed to bring thee to a full\nrealization of the past. Arise and come with me, that thou mayst obtain\na glimpse of the realities of life, a gleam of the glorious\nmanifestation of power that awaits thee.\u201d\n\nTaking me by the hand, the sainted spirit began to slowly rise, drawing\nme upward with him. Away, away, over rugged heights and dreary wastes of\nland we sped until we neared the entrance of a valley more exquisite in\nbeauty than any I had ever beheld. Strains of enchanting music issued\nfrom thence, mingled with bursts of merry laughter, and sounds of\nsweetest singing.\n\nUpon entering the valley, we were saluted by the fragrant breath of\nbeautiful flowers, borne toward us upon the balmy breeze of morning;\nbirds carolled among the leafy branches of the trees, or flitted about\nthe sparkling sprays of gleaming water, issuing from founts of alabaster\npurity;\u2014all was calm and serene, a picture of contentment and repose.\nBeautiful homes, gleaming with singular whiteness, and embowered with\nflowering vines of gorgeous beauty, nestled low down in the heart of the\nvalley.\n\nThere were no doors or windows to these houses, but the sides were\nentirely open, revealing the simple, innocent home life of their\ninmates; the roofs were supported by marble pillars, around which the\nvines and tendrils clung with loving tenderness. From these homes issued\nthose sounds of joy and happiness we had heard ere entering the valley.\n\nAway in the distance, on either side, arose the majestic heights of\npurple-crested mountains; while a beautiful river flashed and sparkled\nin the sunlight, but a little way before us. Near the center of the vale\nI observed a massive dome, of marvelous beauty, rising from the midst of\na grove of trees, and toward this my guide continued to lead my\nbewildered spirit.\n\nAs we approached, I found the building to be a vast and stupendous\ntemple, wrought with exceeding artistic skill and beauty, the delicate\ncarvings and fretwork of which I had never seen equalled.\n\nThe grounds surrounding this magnificent temple presented a scene of\nunsurpassing loveliness. The green sward, rich with velvet-like\nsoftness, glowed and sparkled in the sunlight like a huge emerald of\npriceless value. Thickets of wild roses here and there shed their royal\nperfume upon the passing breeze; vines and tendrils twined around the\ntrunks of lofty trees, through the branches of which flitted and\ncarolled birds of brilliant plumage.\n\nI followed my guide up a flight of marble steps, and found myself in a\nspacious vestibule, at the further end of which hung a heavy curtain of\nroyal purple velvet. The floor of this vestibule was tessellated with\nblocks of many-hued marble, presenting a most beautiful appearance, in\nthe center of which arose a magnificent fountain of crystal whiteness,\nmost exquisitely sculptured and carved, from which ascended sprays of\ncool and sparkling water. \u201cWater, water everywhere!\u201d Through all my\nwanderings in the eternal world I have never been long absent from the\nsight of clear, leaping, sparkling water. It is the life element of the\nspirit, next to sunlight and air, and it needs no additional fluid to\nmake it agreeable and palatable.\n\nThrough the open interstices of this entrance the perfumed air from\nwithout wandered, diffusing a most refreshing breeze throughout the\napartment. To the left I observed what appeared to be an inclined plane,\nthe surface of which was as smooth as glass, and as white as porcelain.\nThis glassy road led upward beyond the frescoed ceiling, until it\ndisappeared from sight. I turned an inquiring look upon my companion,\nwho thus replied to my silent questioning: \u201cThou art now, my son,\nstanding within the walls of one of our temples dedicated to Art. This\nis the Palace of Delight,\u2014the Artists\u2019 Home! Beyond yonder curtain is\nthe Hall of Poesy, where congregate souls so rounded out and perfected\nthat they may express themselves in measure full and sweet; their lives\nare breathing, active poems of beauty and love. Yonder spiral stairway,\u201d\ndirecting my attention to a stair-case glittering like burnished gold,\nat my right, \u201cleads to the halls dedicated respectively to the gods of\nmusic, painting, and statuary, where souls attuned in harmony with those\ndivine expressions of creative energy gather to pour forth all the\nhidden richness and glory of their spiritual conceptions of life.\n\n\u201cYonder crystal pathway leads to the grand temple of all, where gather\nthose poets, artists, sculptors, musicians, prophets, and sages, who are\nunited in the bonds of sympathy and love, to compare notes, and to charm\nand enlighten each other with the productions of their individual minds.\nThee will observe that it is up hill all the way, extending beyond thy\nvision, and that the road is slippery and seemingly impossible to climb,\ntypifying the pathway over which struggling genius is forced to go,\nslipping here and there, oftentimes stumbling, until it plumes its wings\nfor bolder flight, and by determined effort and perseverance wins the\ngoal.\n\n\u201cThe novitiate who first enters this temple dedicated to the Muses would\nfain ascend yonder roadway, but, finds himself unable to do so; for he\nmust first visit each one of the halls of learning ere he attempts to\nenter the grand temple of Art. When he has done so, he finds no need to\ncrawl slowly up yonder plane, but concentrating his will upon the\ndesired spot, by the power thus acquired, mounts upward without fear,\nand gains the goal.\n\n\u201cBut thou, my son, must now pass beyond yonder drapery; there thou wilt\nfind that for which thy soul is to be fitted. Thou wilt find kindred\nminds, and sometime thy birth-right. I must leave thee; my work calls me\naway; others will teach thee the lesson of life. Farewell, and God bless\nthee.\u201d\n\nThe sage vanished, and I was again alone. Curiosity and interest led me\nto approach and push aside the hanging velvet that obscured my sight. I\ndid so, and beheld a vast apartment, the roof of which, fretted with\nlace-like tracings of golden hue, was supported by richly-carved columns\nof finely-veined marble. The floor was a mosaic of pearl and ivory,\nformed into clusters of flowers. At the farther end was a raised dais,\ncovered with a crimson, satin-like fabric, above which, suspended from\ngolden rods, clouds of creamy, fairy-like lace drooped and fluttered.\n\nUpon the dais was seated the stately form of a male spirit, whose\nmajestic-bearing, noble brow, and intelligent, genial, love-lit\ncountenance attracted and held the admiration, esteem, and respect of\nthe beholder. Upon either side was seated a personage, mild and gentle\nof demeanor, with the unmistakable mark of genius stamped upon his brow.\nRanged around the dais in a semi-circle were a number of seats, filled\nwith occupants of both sexes, all seemingly earnestly attentive to the\nmaster spirit of the hour.\n\nThe inmates of the hall were clothed in various costumes, such as their\nfancy suggested; but with such correctness of taste that all the colors\nand styles blended together in perfect harmony, and in company with\ntheir surroundings made up a superb and radiant picture, perfect in all\nits details. I noticed a peculiar halo of mellow light emanating from\nand surrounding each member of this assembly, graduating from a\nbeautiful tint of yellow down to pearly whiteness, lighting up the\nfeatures with indescribable beauty. These souls were enveloped in their\nown wealth of love, sympathy, and perceptive harmony.\n\nI had but to gaze on the massive brow, thoughtful, speaking countenance,\nand smiling eyes of that central figure when it flashed upon me, that\nthis was Addison,\u2014Addison the gifted, noble and true, whose works I had\never admired, and which I considered beyond emulation. The pale,\nsaint-like face upon the right I recognized as Cowper, the good. At the\nleft, with flashing eye, and impassioned features, was Byron, but Byron\npurged of the impurities and grossness of sensual life.\n\nI gazed around, and it dawned upon me who these people were. I saw the\ncalm, pure features and love-lit eyes of Felicia Hemans, of Elizabeth B.\nBrowning, of Letitia Landon, and others well-known to me from the\nmelodious outpourings of their spirits. There were Dryden, Thompson, and\nPope,\u2014once little, misshapen Alexander Pope, now grown straight, lithe,\nand willowy with no discontent upon his features, even sitting at the\nfeet of Addison, absorbing the reflected light of that stately presence.\n\nI could not understand what was going on. I heard nothing but a low,\nsweet, rhythmic sound proceeding from the dais, which was unintelligible\nto me, though, from the interested looks of those present it was\nevidently not so to them. I had advanced no farther than to the inner\nside of the curtain, for I dared not intrude upon that celestial\ncompany. I again glanced at myself, and as the contrast between my\nfaded, dust-worn, shabby appearance and the fresh purity and sweetness\nof these harmonious souls flashed upon me, together with the thought\nthat, had I done more and been more in the past, I too might have been\nseated here with this angelic host, in place of creeping in like an\noutcast and an alien, I covered my face and fled from the apartment and\nthe place.\n\nI next found myself standing upon a sandy shore, watching and listening\nto the roar of the surging waves as they came rolling in to my feet. All\nwas wild and tempestuous. How I had come here I could not tell; through\nwhat tortuous, devious paths I had wandered I could not explain. I felt\nthat I had passed through a fiery furnace. I was still scathed and\nsmarting from the sting of accusing memory. I felt a touch upon my\nshoulder, and turning gazed into a pair of kindly, sympathetic eyes, the\neyes of one whom I felt was to be my friend and brother; of one whose\nname shall yet be sung throughout the length of Old England; one who\npassed from earth a few years before myself, at the early age of\nthirty-two. I gazed into the eyes of Robert Brough, poet and friend.\nInstantly I knew I had met one who would assist and teach me what my\nspirit required.\n\n\u201cI have come to help you,\u201d he said, grasping my hand in a hearty clasp;\n\u201cI have long followed you, I was at the Poet\u2019s Council, and saw you\nenter. Noting your movements, watching the expression of your\ncountenance, I understood your condition, and when you rushed forth I\nfollowed, feeling that I might be able to assist you. I have since kept\nyou in sight, but owing to the clouds that enwrapped you, I have been\nheretofore unable to make my presence known. Now that the force of your\nemotions is spent, and you are beginning to grow calm and collected, I\ncome to offer you my assistance, and to show you how to nobly retrieve\nthe past, and find perfect peace for your soul. Will you accept my aid?\u201d\n\nI grasped the hand still holding my own, and cried in a voice choked\nwith emotion: \u201cI will! I will! only show me the way, and I will follow\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo you,\u201d continued my friend, pointing to the surging billows before\nus, \u201cthis scene is presented as a type of the desolate, lonely shore,\nand the warring billows of passion-haunted thoughts, upon which man may\nrecklessly wreck his whole existence; but, beyond the sandy waste, and\nthe ocean\u2019s depths, there are calm waters, and sweet, smiling fields\nwhere we may find redemption, and make that restitution necessary to\npeace of mind. Come with me and I will guide you to health and\nhappiness. Concentrate your thought upon me, and remain passive.\u201d\n\nI did so, and instantly I found my companion and self transported from\nthe dreary shore to the same valley I had entered on my first visit to\nthe immortal world. \u201cYou wonder at my mode of transportation,\u201d said\nRobert, noting my surprise, \u201cbut you will soon become used to it, for it\nis the spirit\u2019s true mode of rapid traveling. We have only to fix our\nwill upon the place to which we wish to go, and instantly space is\nannihilated, and we are there. When you have thrown off a few more of\nthe conditions of your earth life, you will be able to understand this\nlaw, and many others; and in order that you may do so, I wish you to\nplunge into yonder mist arising before us.\u201d\n\nBut a few feet from us there ascended from the depths of a small lake a\nheavy bank of mist or vapor, and, in compliance with the request of my\nfriend, I plunged into this fog, which, upon my doing so, seemed to\npenetrate every atom of my being.\n\nWhen I emerged I seemed indeed to have been born again, to have received\na baptism that had washed away much that was heavy and gross in my\nsystem, and I felt light as air, and almost imponderable.\n\n\u201cNow you begin to feel something like a spirit,\u201d said my friend, seating\nhimself upon a mossy bank, and motioning me to a seat beside him; \u201cyou\nare becoming regenerated; look at yourself, and you will perceive a\nchange; you can also see, hear, and feel clearer and better; all your\nsenses are awakened and quickened, because the spirit is beginning to\nwork free from the crudities of materiality.\u201d\n\nIt was indeed true; my senses did seem to be intensified ten-fold;\ndistance lent no obstruction to my view; my vision appeared to be\nunlimited. I could perceive forms, radiant in angelic beauty, moving to\nand fro; towns and cities gleaming white in the sunlight where before my\nsight was bounded by the horizon, and I could see nothing but the limits\nof the beautiful valley, and no human being but our two selves.\n\nMy hearing, too, was quickened; for sweet, harmonious sounds stole upon\nmy ear, where before I had heard nothing; all my senses seemed to be\ntrebly alive, and awakened to activity; my outer structure, too, had\ngrown so clear and fair as to become almost transparent, while my\ngarments had assumed a purity of appearance I had never noticed before.\n\n\u201cYou will soon be able to enter into and enjoy all the true pleasures of\nexistence,\u201d resumed the poet. \u201cI, too, have passed under experiences and\ntrials similar to your own; and though they were not induced by\nprecisely the same cause, yet they were sufficiently severe to lead me\nto sympathize with and give you strength.\u201d\n\nHe ceased, and my soul became too full of gratitude for utterance,\nperceiving which, he said: \u201cBy-and-bye, all these things will be\nexplained to you, and you will thank the good Father for giving you\nthese experiences, by which to develop and strengthen your spirit. But\ncome, I must show you your work. Remain passive, and trust in me.\u201d\n\nAgain I followed his bidding, and in a moment more we were gliding along\nthe streets of an earthly town. Again I was in the precincts of old\nEngland, but material sights and sounds seemed farther away from me than\never before.\n\n\u201cI am going to take you,\u201d said my guide, \u201cto one who is noble and true\nto the stern duties of life; one who, in spite of trials and\nperplexities, of trouble and care, has remained faithful to the higher\ndictates of his inner spirit; who, reared in poverty, has yet carved out\na name for himself, and by turning aside from the glittering allurements\nof life, has endeared himself to many hearts,\u2014a royal soul, a kingly\nmind, as yet in the physical body. I bring you to him, that from the\nexample of his life, and the strength of his soul, you may learn your\nlesson, and draw encouragement to go on and do likewise.\u201d\n\nHe ceased to speak, and instantly we were in an apartment which I\nrecognized as the room of a thinker, a student, and a poet. There was\nbut one occupant; a slight figure, bearing a lofty head and noble brow,\nwith an earnest, intellectual cast of features. He was busy perusing a\nbook, which, from the intentness of his gaze, I divined must have been a\nwork requiring deep study.\n\nHow calm and peaceful was the atmosphere of that place! The air was\nreplete with quiet and rest. \u201cI shall leave you here,\u201d said my guide.\n\u201cWhen we meet again, you will be the worker, and one who has found\ncontent and joy. Adieu.\u201d\n\nHe was gone; and there, in the quiet sanctuary of the poet\u2019s study, in\ncompany with that loyal soul, whose earnest thought was to elevate\nhumanity; in contemplation of his work, and drawing strength and\nencouragement from his fidelity to truth, and his desire to benefit\nmankind, I became strong and enduring, enabled to put away the enticing\ntemptations of life, to expand my powers under the light of spirit\ndevelopment; and a desire was kindled in my soul that has never been\nquenched,\u2014a desire to be of use, to do good to others, to assist the\nneedy, elevate the downtrodden, and enlighten and instruct those sitting\nin darkness.\n\nSitting in the companionship of that noble mind, reading with him his\nworks, listening to his songs of beauty, witnessing his dreams for the\nremission of human ills, painted as they were on the sensorium of his\nsoul, in colors of gorgeous splendor; breathing in the perfume of his\nholiest aspirations, watching his struggles and triumphs,\u2014I became\npurified and purged of old crudities, and went out from that presence\nwith a determination to do something for humanity, to be something in\nthe great arena of life; and from that determination I have never\nstrayed.\n\nBorn of this desire,\u2014to do something for the good of humanity,\u2014there\ncame to my soul a new strength unlike anything I had known before; and\nwhich enabled me to enter dens of vice in search of souls to aid without\ndanger of contamination, or of falling a victim to temptation. Of my\nwork in this direction I shall speak in a future chapter; but first I\nwish to tell you of a visit I have made to one of our brightest spirits;\none whose songs are known and sung the wide world over.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XXIV.\n A VISIT TO ROBERT BURNS.\n\n\nI had long been pressed and impressed to pay a visit to the spirit home\nof Robert Burns, Scotland\u2019s favored child of song, where he extends the\nthorough hospitality of a genial heart, and where all kindred souls are\nwelcomed with royal cordiality.\n\nI had met Burns upon many occasions since my entrance to the joys of\nspirit life. I had seen him in the public convocations of poets, had\nbeen with him at friendly gatherings where souls like his meet to enjoy\nthe rich and varied productions of each other\u2019s minds; I had seen him in\nhall and bower, amid lofty and amid lowly scenes; and finally I had\nreceived a visit from him in my own private domain. But as yet I had\nnever responded to his kindly, urgent invitations, nor to my own\npromptings, to return the visit. An opportunity at length presented\nitself for me to do so, and accordingly, with a friend, who wished me to\ntravel leisurely as mortals do, and who accompanied me to point out the\nnatural beauties and points of interest along our route, I set out with\na joyful spirit, and anticipations of a rich treat, to visit the spirit\nhome of Scotia\u2019s immortal bard.\n\nI will not weary you by descriptions of our journey. The time is coming\nwhen the localities and scenery of spirit life will be described to\nmortals by those who are fully competent to do so. At present, I will\nconfine myself to the object of my journey, namely, the arrival at the\nspirit home of the poet.\n\nMy companion and myself journeyed along\u2014he interesting me on the way, by\nrelating bits of history or incidents concerning places we passed,\ntogether with anecdotes of the people and their customs\u2014until we arrived\nat the entrance of a natural basin or valley, that lay like a great\nemerald between two ranges of towering mountains. Upon the right, the\nmighty pile reared its lofty head in solemn grandeur; the morning\nshadows resting upon it, only serving to deepen the impressiveness of\nits height and power. Its base of a dark brown hue supported the rugged\npile, which deepened in color as it arose, until its apex presented the\nappearance of a gigantic amethyst, glittering beneath the light of\nmorning in an indescribable purple splendor.\n\nUpon the left arose a range of polished stone, as white as sculptured\nmarble, which gleamed and glistened in the sunlight like a mountain of\nfrost work. Its numerous crags and peaks shone like so many spears of\nfrozen snow, the rosy light resting upon its sparkling surface causing\nit to present an appearance at once marvelous and bewitching to the\nbeholder.\n\nIn the hollow formed by these mountain ranges nestled the valley I have\nmentioned, covered with a luxuriant growth of vegetation and verdure.\nFields of ripening grain, blooming gardens, delighting the senses with\ntheir fragrance and beauty, waving trees, in all the glory of exuberant\nfoliage, were to be seen in every direction, while the white cottages of\nthe dwellers gleamed here and there, and in their delightful locality\nbore every indication of home comfort. The people whom we saw busy about\ntheir gardens, or caught glimpses of between the open doorways of their\nhouses, appeared happy and contented; their dress was simple, and\nseemingly worn for comfort; their countenances betokened peace and\nliberty. Songs of innocence and mirth arose upon the balmy air, mingling\nwith the tones of children\u2019s merry laughter. In short, here was an\nArcadia in real life, such as any poet might be proud to dream of, and\nto picture out to the delight of his fellow-men.\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said my friend, \u201care the people who have gathered about Robbie\nBurns, as a flock of sheep gather around a beloved shepherd; or better,\nas a group of children gather about a beloved and venerated father, to\nlisten to his advice, and follow his counsel, knowing it is for their\ngood.\n\n\u201cRobert Burns has made these people what they are. They have come to\nspirit life one by one, worn and weary from the cares of earth; some of\nthem even sin-sick and degraded from unnatural lives, led while in the\nbody. He has gathered them together, taught them self-reliance, preached\nto them through the opening flower, the running stream, and the songs of\nbirds. He has taught them to forget their cares, and to desire a nobler\nexistence. He has set them at work to cultivate their gardens and build\nthemselves homes. In doing this they have grown happy and found rest.\n\n\u201cFrom him they have learned patience, self-restraint, and\nself-abnegation, a belief in the divinity of every spirit, and love for\nhumanity.\n\n\u201cSome of these people, worn and broken down, came to him of themselves.\nThey had heard of Burns while on earth, had read his words of sympathy,\nof love and tenderness, knew that he had sinned and suffered, and that\nwith all he had faith in man. Through the great desire of their souls to\nsee him, they were drawn to his presence, and his great, kindly heart,\nunderstanding their needs, spoke to them words of cheer, which gave\nrelief and strength.\n\n\u201cOthers he himself found by the wayside, sunk in misery and degradation;\nhe held to them the helping hand, kindled in their breasts contrition\nfor wrong committed, which brought a desire to do better and be better.\nHe found their loved and loving ones for them; and all reverence him\nwith love and blessing. The children abiding here are little waifs cast\noff from earth, who have known no tender care before their spirit birth;\nhere they are cared for and educated by those capable of giving\ninstruction to opening minds.\u201d\n\nA group of merry children, laughing and shouting in glee, dashed by us\nas my companion ceased speaking, their faces radiant with joy and\nhappiness.\n\nWe paused at the entrance of a magnificent garden, whose limits extended\nfar and wide. The well-kept walks, the superb parterres of blooming\nflowers, the shrubs raising their graceful branches as if conscious of\ntheir beauty, the grand old trees rearing their mighty heads, and\ncasting grateful shadows, the pond at the further end, gleaming and\nglittering in the sunlight, rustic seats scattered here and there, banks\nof velvet-like richness, bright with their vivid hue of emerald green,\nall betokened this place to be the property of one who loved Nature, and\nwas a willing worker in beautifying and adorning her productions.\n\nThis immense garden was not enclosed from the public way, except by a\nlow hedge of evergreens, whose tops were tufted with delicate,\ncreamy-hued, fragrant blossoms, reminding me forcibly of our own native\nhawthorn. No gate barred the entrance way; it was open to the free\nadmittance of all.\n\nAt the farther end of the principal walk arose a plain, unpretentious\ndwelling, its white walls gleaming with an appearance of purity and\npeace. So far had we come up the valley that this cottage appeared to us\nto rest at the base of the purple-crested mountain, like a bird\u2019s nest\nsecurely fastened upon a rugged rock.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said my guide, \u201cyou have the home of Robert Burns. I will now\nleave you to his care.\u201d Ere he could proceed, a form issued from the\nopen doorway of the house, and hastened down the path to meet us. That\nbeaming countenance, those kindly eyes, and warm, cordial hands extended\nto greet us; that commanding, yet unassuming figure, clothed in simple,\nrustic garb, could belong to no man in God\u2019s universe but Robert Burns.\nIt needed no honeyed speech, no formal words of greeting, no\nconventionalities, to tell us we were welcome; the spirit of our host\nover flowed with hospitality, and his soul beamed with all the fervor of\nhis joy at meeting us.\n\nOh, the pleasure that enwrapped my being when I first entered the\nsanctuary of that good man\u2019s great heart, and felt that we were\ncongenial companions! No constraint, no conventional formalities with\nhim; all was freedom and perfect ease.\n\nMy guide pleaded necessities of business as an excuse for leaving me\nalone with my host, and as we both preferred to roam in his great\ntreasure-garden to entering the house, and feeling refreshed and strong\nin spirit, as though I had just partaken of food (which was true, as I\nhad been feeding my soul all the way on the many delights I had\nencountered), we turned down a by-path, and I began to examine the rare\nplants and elegant shrubbery of the place, my host displaying and\nexplaining his treasures as we went.\n\n\u201cI am surprised,\u201d said I, \u201cat your wealth of luxuriant bloom, and the\nbeauty as well as the delicacy of the perfume of these plants; they\nsurpass everything I have yet seen; you must give them a great deal of\nattention.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, lad,\u201d replied my companion, \u201cit\u2019s not that so much. I look after\nthem every day, of course, give them water and just the right degree of\nlight, and trim and train them when there\u2019s muckle need; but I think its\nadaptability to surroundings that makes \u2019em fine. I love them,\u2014every\none,\u2014and it\u2019s real pleasure to care for them;\u201d and it was with unfeigned\nfondness that he bent over a rare stock of geraniums, and lifted a\nmagnificent bloom to my view. We wandered along, chatting about this\nshrub and that plant; the proper treatment of this stock, and the right\ndegree of culture for that variety. Nature and time had made him a\nthorough floriculturist; it was the spiritual refining of that love of\nNature, manifested in the farmer-boy, using the plough and spade, and\nweaving songs of richest beauty over his work.\n\nAgain we paused, this time by the side of a parterre of the most\nbeautiful garden-lilies I ever beheld. The creamy, cup-shaped blossoms,\nwhich crowned the slender stems, rose tall and straight from a low mass\nof deep, dark, and glossy leafage; while the regal flowers, with their\ntints of snowy richness, flecked with tiny bars of golden hue, emitted a\nfragrance of the most exquisite yet subtle of delicate odors. There were\ndozens upon dozens of these royal blossoms, filling the air with their\nrich perfume, and inviting the honey-bee to visit them in his search for\nsweets.\n\nAs I paused to admire this magnificent group of beauties\u2014mentally\nlikening them to a bevy of pure-souled, white-robed angels\u2014and to drink\nin the full richness and glory of the scene spread out before me, there\ncame, wafted upon the scent-laden air, a strain of sweetest music,\u2014such\nas I have often heard in spirit, but which is never produced by any but\nhighly-cultivated or advanced souls,\u2014accompanied in this instance by a\nfemale voice in singing; and such singing\u2014so full of melody, of\nexpressive tenderness, with a rich under-current of harmony\u2014mortal\ntongue or pen is inadequate to describe. I looked at my companion\ninquiringly. Said he: \u201cIt is my Highland Mary, the sainted soul who\npassed on before me, and who has made me what I am. This patch of lilies\nis her especial pride. I have named them for _her_, and call them \u2018The\nSnaw Mary.\u2019 We shall soon be with her, and you will see her for\nyourself.\u201d I was delighted at the prospect of meeting \u201cHighland Mary,\u201d\nwhich delight of course he perceived.\n\nWe moved on past beds of beautiful verdure and bloom of every hue, and\narrived at the lake, a superb sheet of water, clear as crystal, and\nextending over a large area, its margin laid with tiny, white\ncobblestones, presenting a neat, pretty appearance. A fairy-like boat\nwas moored at a landing-place, upon the side of which I observed painted\na large, thrifty-looking thistle.\n\nA rustic bridge extended across the lake, over which we passed. At the\nfarther side were a number of tiny arbors, around and above which twined\nand clung flowering vines, some of which were very familiar to me.\nToward the nearest of these flower-wreathed pavilions my companion\nturned. The sound of singing had ceased, but through the swinging\nleaflets of the vines I could perceive the white drapery of female\ngarments.\n\nIn a moment more we were in the presence of that sweet, long-loved,\nimmortalized \u201cHighland Mary;\u201d and well might Robert Burns have mourned\nher loss, and well might the poet soul have sung his sweetest song \u201cTo\nMary in Heaven.\u201d The features of this sainted maiden were almost\ntransparent; a halo of celestial beauty shone about her form as she\nmoved; her beautiful eyes emitted a radiance that must have been\ndazzling to those not fitted to enter her sphere of purity; her bonny\nhair rippled down her back in waves of golden light. The beauty of mind,\nthe purity of an innocent heart, the tenderness of soul, expressing\nitself in sympathy toward the weak and erring, combined with traces of\nexperience in human suffering, manifested themselves in the chastened\nrefinement of that lovely countenance, and the sphere of purity\nsurrounding that angelic being.\n\nI stood before her abashed and humbled; but a moment more, the sweet\nvoice of Burns\u2019 Mary bade me welcome, and I was made to feel at home.\n\nYears of experience in the higher life had been of inestimable value to\nthat maiden; she had had the teaching of highly-developed spirits, and\nthe beauty, brilliancy and grace of a cultured mind, that was accustomed\nto deep thinking, were plainly discernible in her remarks. I was content\nto be a listener, and to drink deeply of the living waters of truth that\nflowed from the gifted mind of my host, and from the tender, loving soul\nof his companion.\n\nBut our stay in the pavilion was short; I would fain have lingered far\nlonger, but the lady, \u201con hospitable thoughts intent,\u201d after the fashion\nof woman everywhere, seemed anxious that I should be conducted to the\nhouse and have refreshments. My protestations were overruled, and we\naccordingly started for the abode,\u2014not by the way my host and I had\ncome, but on the outer side of the garden. On our journey I made a new\ndiscovery: Mary had turned to me previously, and said: \u201cI would like you\nto see my aviary, the place where I keep my pets; in fact, their\nshelterhouse;\u201d and soon I understood to what she referred. We were\napproaching a thicket of bushes; I recognized furze, gorse, and hawthorn\namong them. Passing through this thicket, we entered an extension of the\ngarden, still laid out in beds of beautiful flowers. A grove of trees,\nin the center of which a pretty fountain sent up its jets of crystal\nwater, arrested my attention, and beyond that, the sparkling roof of a\nlarge glass building. The bushes and trees resounded with the melody\nissuing from the gaily-feathered throats of numerous songsters, of every\nsize and variety. It was a bird kingdom upon a small scale. As we\nentered, the birds surrounded us, alighting upon the heads and shoulders\nof my companions; but while they flew close to and around me, only one,\na tiny white warbler, would alight upon my person. This perched upon my\nshoulder, and chirped and nodded as pert as possible.\n\nWe entered the glass building. Within were planted shrubs and trees,\nsome of them bearing fruit, others seeds. There were no cages, but I\nobserved numerous nests attached to the bushes and trees. The floor was\nthe natural earth; the sun shone warmly, and all was beautiful. There\nwere no doors, but here and there entrance-ways, always open for the\nconvenience of the feathered denizens of the place, who came and went of\ntheir pleasure. A stream of water gushed from a rock, and gurgled and\nplashed over a heap of stones. This was the bird-house belonging to the\nestate, and the especial pride of \u201cHighland Mary.\u201d\n\nWe tarried a few moments, and then continued our way to the house, which\nwe soon reached. How different the scene! A plain, unpretentious, white\ndwelling, with no attempt at ornamentation, the sun shining down upon\nit, fully displaying all its simplicity. Within was the same; neat and\ncheerful, suggestive of comfort and repose, but nothing finical, nothing\ntawdry; no glitter, no display. There was no covering to the cool, white\nfloors, excepting here and there a rug or mat of green rushes. The walls\nof the apartment into which I was ushered were draped with a snowy\ngossamer-like fabric; the chairs round, wide, and comfortable, the\ntables oval and plain. Here we were served with refreshments,\u2014fruit of\nvarious kinds, sweet cake formed of honey and the meat of nuts, and\nsparkling water.\n\nAfterward I entered the sitting-room of spirit Mary. Here the walls were\ndraped with blue silken stuffs; the furnishings were more elaborate and\nelegant than the other parts of the house, and all arranged in exquisite\ntaste. My hostess entertained us with her tender, soulful singing,\nstriking a harp-shaped instrument, which sent forth a delicious\naccompaniment to the song.\n\nIn Mary\u2019s apartment, or boudoir, I observed a pot of primroses in full\nbloom, the yellow petals of the flowers recalling old familiar scenes of\nearth; and the sight of these flowers recalled to me also that they were\nthe only ones I had noticed within the dwelling. This seemed singular to\nme; with all that wealth of bloom and fragrance without, it would only\nbe natural to find every room adorned with slips and cuttings. Of course\nthe drift of my thought was perceived. Burns smiled, but Mary\nenlightened me. \u201cRobbie will never pluck a flower,\u201d said she, \u201cfor his\nown use; he does not think it right to bring them out of their native\nelements, and deprive them of life on the stalk. He thinks they are hurt\nwhen they are culled; he also leaves them all out to be enjoyed by\nanyone who comes along; but I have seen him often break the flowers for\nsome wee lassie, or poor laddie, who luks at them wistfully. He knows by\nthat they had none too many flowers and pleasures on earth.\u201d\n\nI looked at Burns; his kindly face lighted up with intelligence and\nspirit beauty; every feature aglow with goodness, and every member of\nhis body filled with energy, with suppressed power, with concentrated\nactivity, now in abeyance, but ready to spring forth for the well-being\nof another,\u2014he who had risen above all earthly passions through his\ngreat love for and faith in humanity; and I thought how characteristic\nof the man is this abode of peace and rest,\u2014the home, the shrine of his\nfaith and love,\u2014plain, simple, yet full of cheer and interest,\u2014no\nglitter nor show,\u2014like his own kindly heart, unpretentious, full of\nkindness, overflowing with interest in God, Nature, and man! Without,\nall is beauty and fragrance; yet the natural productions of life,\nrefined by care and cultivation, typical of the rich, the beautiful\nexpressions of his poet soul,\u2014refined through love, cultured through\nsympathy, manifested in sweetest heart songs, exemplified in those\npeaceful homes I had seen, whose inmates rise up and call him blessed!\nCharacteristic of the soul is this, who would cull a flower to give a\npoor heart cheer, yet who will pluck none for his own use, to deprive\nthem of natural life,\u2014who, when he had inadvertently uprooted the tiny,\nwayside flower with his plowshare, immortalized the humble daisy with\u2014\n\n \u201cThou bonny crimson-tipped flower,\n Thou\u2019st met me in an evil hour,\n For I mun crush amang the stower\n Thy slender stem;\n To spare thee now \u2019twere past my power,\n Thou bonny gem.\u201d\n\nStill the same good man, gentle alike to \u201cmon and beastie,\u201d tender to\nwayside flower and weed.\n\nAnother apartment in the home of the people\u2019s bard is fitted up as a\nstudy or library. Here are collected volumes by the true poets and\nphilosophers of all ages. Some are prototypes of what are or what have\nbeen on earth; others are the outward productions of minds, grand and\nglorious in their brilliancy of thought, radiant with exquisite imagery,\nglowing with descriptive genius, or sweet and pathetic appeals to the\ntenderest emotions of the soul, through their simple, home-like,\nheartfelt tales of life and love, and which have never been heard by\nmortals.\n\nBut you must not for a moment suppose Robert Burns to be dependent upon\nbooks for intellectual enjoyment, or for the attainment of knowledge.\nThe soul is limitless in its resources, boundless in its capacity for\nexpansion, and that spirit who earnestly desires to gain knowledge,\nfinds a power developing within the mind which enables him or her to\ncomprehend the fields of learning continually opening before the vision;\nwhile facilities and opportunities are afforded by which an honest\nseeker may grasp the truth as it appears before him.\n\nCould you but faintly realize the scope of the spirit, its perfect\nfreedom, its power and right to travel where it listeth, you would\nunderstand that in the higher life we have but to earnestly desire to be\nin the presence of any great soul, in order to gain pleasure and profit\nfrom the gems of love, beauty, and wisdom which fall upon receptive\nminds from those great repositories of thought, and, lo, we are there,\ndrinking in great and mighty truths from those who are above us in\ngrandeur of thought, beauty of expression, and sweetness of spirit.\n\nRobert Burns is by no means confined to his books; but, as he informed\nme, though his brightest thoughts are drawn from the life of Nature, or\nthe hearts of humanity, he loves to gather about him all the expressions\nof the sweet, soulful, noblest ideals which others have produced. Much,\nthat by force of circumstances, he was deprived of on earth is his now;\nall that will tend to ennoble and elevate his soul, which was denied him\nhere, he finds on the other shore. Why he does not ornament his home\nwith those adornments that denote rank and wealth to the external eye is\nbecause his soul loathed the arrogance, and learned to despise the\nsuperciliousness which he found in the hearts, often stamped on the\nfaces and shown in the mien, of many wealthy aristocratic personages he\nmet with while on earth.\n\nHe is Nature\u2019s child to the core of his being, and no glittering\npageantry will adorn his heart and home; as well attempt to gild the\nrose, and paint the lily, to add to their beauty.\n\nTogether, he and I went forth into the smiling valley. A low burn wended\nits way beneath the shade of waving trees, close down to the mountain\nbase; thither we directed our steps, for he wished to show me, with a\nsort of fatherly pride, the great plumy bunches of purple heather\ntufting the sides of the gigantic hills.\n\nA tiny child, paddling in the dark waters of the burn, her snowy feet\ngleaming pearly white amid the shadows thrown by the green branches of\nthe trees, her brown locks hanging in a profusion of luxuriant curls\nover her dimpled shoulders, and half veiling the azure blue eye and\ndamask cheek, arrested our attention and formed as pretty a picture as\none can well imagine; and the poet soul of my companion, drinking in the\nbeauty of the scene, felt all the sweetness of life rushing over him, as\nhe broke out in his quaint Scotch fashion:\u2014\n\n Thou winsome, weesome, smiling creature,\n Half formed of human, half of nature,\n Thy soul gleams through thy every feature,\n This gladsome day;\n While life itself becomes thy teacher\u2014\n Thou prattling fay!\n\n Thy e\u2019en, as blue as simmer skies,\n Reflect the joys of paradise,\n An\u2019 glisten wi\u2019 their sweet surprise,\n That knows no guile;\n While angel praises o\u2019er thee rise,\n An\u2019 bless the while.\n\n Thy bonnie tresses veil thy face\n Wi\u2019 such a winsome, modest grace,\n My spirit fain wad leave its place\n An\u2019 clasp thee close\n In ane sweet, fervent pure embrace,\n Like some rare rose.\n\n Thy snawy feet, like twa fair pearls,\n Gleam brightly \u2019neath the wave that whirls;\n The water o\u2019er them softly purls;\n God lo\u2019es thee best,\n An\u2019 keeps thee \u2019mang the sweetest girls\n That Heaven has blest.\n\nIn conveying a pure stream of crystal fluid through a muddy pipe, the\nliquid loses much of its clearness, and gathers sediment from the\nchannel through which it passes. So, in striving to convey to your\nunderstanding a type of the outgushings of a noble spirit, it loses much\nof its transparency and becomes unsettled through the medium of earthly\nexpression, and perchance distorted by the crude materiality it is\nsometimes obliged to pass through. Therefore, you are to take this as a\nsymbol only of what I had the good fortune to enjoy.\n\nI learned in our rambles that the inhabitants of this smiling valley\nwere not all the countrymen and women of Robert Burns; neither were\nthey, when on earth, all of one belief or religion. They were of every\nrace and clime. Some had been fierce denouncers of the truth; some\nearnest defenders of old theologic ideas and doctrines; others had had\nno religion, no faith either in God or man. But it was plain that all\nhad suffered, had been weary, repentant, lonely, heart-sick, and\nhome-sick; and all had found a home, rest, action for their pent-up\nenergies, development for their repressed powers, love, enjoyment, and\npeace beneath the ministrations of this good man and his gentle\ncompanion.\n\nI met with some of these happy people; conversed with them, after the\nmanner of spirits, read the interior conditions of their souls, and\nfound them all pure, loving, simple, intelligent, respecting man,\nadorning the divine in humanity, and recognizing God as the author of\nlife, whose spirit was found in everything. How their spirits sent forth\na halo of light, which, springing from their unbounded love and\nveneration for Robert Burns, settled about him like an atmosphere of\nglory!\n\nWell did I think highly of the good this man had accomplished; of the\nbeauty of his life-work, of the grandeur of his spirit, which, rising\nabove adversity, rejecting the tempter, had outwrought by his example,\nby his endeavors, such a noble result as this,\u2014the emancipation of souls\nfrom bondage. How many, few could tell; for his efforts have been\nunlimited, and the results of his labors are not confined to this\nvalley, but are scattered far and wide in spirit life and on earth.\n\nWhat need has Robert Burns to return to earth and sing his songs through\nthe lips of media? He does so rarely; and why? His spirit of love, of\nfaith in God, of hope for human progress is so broad, so free and\nuntrammeled, that it breathes itself out in a benediction of good over\nall humanity. It is manifested wherever a soul prays to be of use to\nitself and others; it inspires the weak with strength, and blesses the\nerring with a determination to redeem past errors; it is felt on earth\nand in spirit life, purifying, elevating, and regenerating. Is not this\nthe loftiest poem, the sweetest song, the grandest tale that bard or\nprophet ever could have dreamed? Is it not the outworking, in lines of\nliving glory, of the most sublime yet soulful p\u00e6an of praise to God that\nspirit can conceive? Is it not the breathing, soul-quickening,\nrevivifying poem of life that is outwrought from the inspirations and\naspirations of a gifted, struggling soul once in mortal, and which is\nthe perfect culmination of all that has been dreamed of by that soul,\nmanifesting itself in the fruition of a work of beauty, glory, and\ngrandeur,\u2014not of mechanical art, but of natural, quickened, sentient\nlife?\n\nCould the mortal denouncers of Robert Burns witness his noble triumph of\nspirit over matter, his defeat of all sensual life, his wonderful\nefforts for the good of others, and his glorious soul, radiant with the\nlight of truth, they would bow before him in abject poverty of spirit.\nOne of a band of noble workers, his spirit flows out in love and\nforgiveness to all his foes, and in blessing to all humanity.\n\nEven in spirit life this soul remembers and loves his native home and\nhaunts on earth. The rugged rocks and darkling streams, the gowan-gemmed\nsod, and heather-crowned hills of Scotland, are dear to him still. We\nwere seated upon a mossy bank, enjoying the loveliness of the scene,\u2014the\ngleaming valley, dotted with its blooming gardens and snowy-white\nhabitations; the crystal stream murmuring at our feet; the birds\nchirping in the branches; the lofty mountains uprearing their crests but\na little way before us; with the glorious sun, throwing a flood of\ngolden splendor over all. Environed with these conditions, I could\nperceive the thoughts of my companion reverting to earthly scenes, and\npresently, with bosom heaving, and his great dark eyes glowing with the\nintensity of his emotions, he broke forth:\u2014\n\n Fair are thy smiling fields of green, oh, vale,\n And sweet the flowers that gem thy emerald sod;\n Thy zephyrs bring a spice in every gale,\n And man and nature here commune with God.\n\n Thy crystal waters flow in melody,\n Thy birds make music through the waving trees;\n Thy mountains, rising in their majesty,\n Survey in grandeur all thy harmonies.\n\n But fair and sweet as thou, my spirit home,\n To this fond, loving, clinging heart of mine,\n Are Scotia\u2019s fields, where once I loved to roam,\n And pluck the gowan and the eglantine.\n\n Thy brooks are clear, but Scotia\u2019s burns are bonnie,\n Where once I paddled through the simmer day;\n Thy birds recall the times, not few but monny,\n I\u2019ve heard the mavis chant her tuneful lay.\n\n And though thy mountains rise in mystic glory,\n They are not fairer to my spirit sight\n Than Scotia\u2019s grim old crags and peaks so hoary,\n That brought my boyhood soul such dear delight.\n\n Aye, Scotia\u2019s lands to me are sweet and canny,\n As in the days I roamed her meadows fine,\n Wi\u2019 loving frien\u2019, or gleesome, prattling bairnie\u2014\n Those sweet, rare blessings of the auld lang syne.\n\nAs a ray of light, in passing through a pane of glass, may become broken\nor refracted, or as a straight staff placed in a vessel of water may\npresent a misshapen appearance to the beholder, so in attempting to\npresent to you the straight, symmetrical lines of thought, the golden\nrays of light, emanating from a poet\u2019s soul, they become broken and\ndistorted in their passage through matter; but by these refracted rays\nyou may be able to gain a faint comprehension of the glory of the soul\nin which they originated.\n\nAnd thus we passed our time, with great profit to myself; for, from the\ncompanionship of my friend, I gained a knowledge of the true beauty of\nthe natural life of the spirit, and a larger conception of the grandeur\nof individualized life, when fulfilling its proper mission and expanding\nto its full capacity, even while drinking in the beauty of my\nsurroundings, the harmony of the scene, quaffing the crystal drops or\ninspiring thought which filled the soul of my companion, and imbibing of\nthat deep peace and gladness that imbued his entire being.\n\nIn attempting to portray to you a tithe of the pleasure and profit that\nmy spirit gained from this visit to Robert Burns I have sought to give\nyou an idea of the home and occupation of Scotland\u2019s immortalized son,\nwhose songs and poems have enriched the literature of earth, and\ngladdened the hearts of countless beings here and in the immortal world;\nbut in doing so I have deeply realized that it is impossible for spirits\nto convey to mortals an adequate conception of life in the soul world as\nit really is.\n\nI am aware that I have said nothing in regard to the nearest relatives\nand friends of the poet,\u2014his brave, honest parents, those to whom he\never pays filial respect, and those also who receive fraternal sympathy\nand regard,\u2014his noble sons, that sweet, gentle daughter, the pet and\nblessing of his heart, whose early loss he mourned until his death; and\nlast, but by no means least, his faithful, forgiving Jean, his counselor\nand guide to the end. Though I have not mentioned these, it is not that\nthey are remote or separated from our poet. They are with him, as a\ncluster of stars gather around one brilliant, far-reaching center; and\nupon him they bestow that true spirit love and sympathy which he\nreciprocates in kind.\n\nBut I have dwelt longest upon his connection with the beautiful ideal of\nhis early life; for in her is centered the power to draw forth the\nnoblest and purest aspirations of his soul. As a beacon-light, a radiant\nstar, her undefiled spirit, overflowing with the love that has blest and\nenriched his being, has ever led him onward and upward over the ruts and\npitfalls of sensual life until he has reached the heights of\nself-conquest and self-respect. In every sense, Mary Campbell has been\nthe savior and sustainer of Robert Burns.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XXV.\n MY SPIRITUAL WORK\n\n\nIt would ill become me to speak of my own efforts. There is so much to\nbe done that the individual work of one alone is necessarily small; but\nif we strive to do good, with a will and a desire to benefit others, we\ncannot fail to be of use; and that you may know how it is a spirit\nlabors in conjunction with mortals, I will briefly speak of my method of\nwork, and give you a few instances of what I have done or have striven\nto do.\n\nI remember one circumstance well. At a gambling house in a large English\ncity, I encountered a lad, about eighteen years of age, whom I could see\nhad been enticed there by the alluring visions of a fortune to be made,\npictured to him by those well versed in the secrets of sinful practices.\nHe was a pale, delicate youth, with an intellectual cast of countenance,\na well-bred air, and one evidently worthy of better things. I was\nattracted to him as he sat at the table, his whole mind concentrated\nupon the game he was playing.\n\nSuddenly, he pushed back his chair, rubbed his brow in a bewildered\nmanner, and muttering: \u201cLost, everything lost; I counted on this chance\nto retrieve my luck, but it is no use, everything is against me;\u201d he\nseized his hat and fled from the place. I followed him, not knowing what\nhe might do, and wishing to serve him if in my power. It was to his room\nthat we went, the attic floor of a dingy lodging-house in an obscure\nquarter of the city. I found that he was a student, striving to pay his\nway by literary labor, while gaining an education. His parents were\npoor, hard-working people, living back in the country, who had done all\nthey could to assist their son.\n\nFlinging himself upon his humble bed, the youth gave himself up to\ndismal thoughts, the tenor of which was that he wished he was dead. His\nmoney was all gone, nothing left of all he had possessed but his books;\nremunerative employment he found impossible to procure, and he knew not\nhow to gain the means of livelihood. He could not apply to his friends;\nindeed, he would not have them know his situation for the world, and\nnothing remained but to put himself out of the way as soon as possible.\n\nIn vain did I strive to turn his thoughts in another direction; in vain\nI pictured to his mind the horror and anguish of his friends, when they\nshould learn what he had done. He was in no condition to be impressed by\nany influence that I could bring to bear upon him.\n\nAgain he started up and left the house, I still accompanying him. He\nentered a small drug-store upon the corner, and, nodding nonchalantly to\na young lad about his own age behind the counter, said: \u201cNed, I wish\nyou\u2019d trust me for a few pennies\u2019 worth of arsenic; the rats are\nbecoming such a bore up in my attic that I must do something, especially\nas the landlady pays no attention to my complaints.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d responded the clerk, taking a bottle of white powder from\nthe shelf, and proceeding to do up a small package from its contents.\n\u201cBut you must be very careful of it. I suppose you know how to use it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, thanks; I\u2019ll settle as soon as I can,\u201d replied the youth, and,\ntaking the parcel, he hurried from the shop.\n\nI knew not what to do. I did not like to see that youth throw himself\naway in the manner he thought of doing; but how could I prevent it?\n\nIn a moment more, a doctor\u2019s chaise drove up to the druggist\u2019s door, and\na portly, good-natured looking gentleman, of about five-and-forty years\nof age, alighted and entered the shop.\n\n\u201cNed,\u201d said he, \u201cprepare a bottle of cough-mixture from this recipe,\u201d\nhanding him the prescription, \u201cand send it with a box of soothing\npowders to Mrs. Simms. She\u2019s very bad.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right, sir,\u201d replied the clerk; \u201cbut look here a minute. Harold H.,\nwho lives at No. 8, was here a minute ago for arsenic. He said it was to\nkill rats. I let him have it, but some how or other just now I feel\nnervous about it.\u201d\n\nUpon the doctor\u2019s entrance, I saw in an instant he was the one to be\ninfluenced in the right direction, and it was I who had produced the\nuneasiness in the clerk\u2019s mind, and impressed him to speak.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said the doctor, \u201cI\u2019ll stop and see about this; and do you, Master\nNed, have a care how you sell poisonous articles to whoever comes for\nthem.\u201d\n\nHe hurried from the store over to No. 8, entered, and without ceremony\npassed up to the attic of the wouldbe suicide. I of course followed. We\nfound the youth engaged in writing a letter, the package of poison close\nto his hand.\n\nIt is needless for me to recount all that passed in that interview.\nSuffice it to say, that, by a few welldirected inquiries, that good man\nmanaged to learn the condition of the lad, and what had been its cause.\nHe then proceeded to talk to him earnestly and firmly, yet kindly, of\nthe sin he contemplated, of the agony of his mother upon hearing of the\ndeed, and the anguish he would cause to all he loved.\n\nThe young man broke down, wept bitterly, and promised he would live to\nbe a better man. The physician furnished him with means sufficient for\npresent necessities, promised him he would interest some of his\ninfluential friends in his behalf, and, when he left, carried the poison\nwith him.\n\nThe man kept his word, and through his influence Harold H. was placed in\nbetter circumstances, assisted in his efforts to gain an education, and\nlives today an ornament and useful member of society, and the pride of\nhis parents and friends.\n\nMore than once I have visited liquor saloons, hoping to draw some poor\nwretch away from the curse of rum and its allurements. I have not always\nsucceeded, but at times have been more successful.\n\nOn one of these occasions, a man in the prime of life, who was drinking\ncopiously, and rapidly making himself worse than a beast, arrested my\nattention, but I could make no impression upon him. While making the\neffort, a street musician began playing a dancing tune. The musician, a\nyoung and delicate boy, accompanied by a still younger female child, who\nwas the dancer, was one whom I could impress, which I did by making him\ncease the dancing tune, and begin that sweet, pathetic air of Payne\u2019s\n\u201cHome, Sweet Home.\u201d The little maid stopped her dancing, looked puzzled\nfor a moment, when, catching the inspiration of the moment, she broke\nout in bird-like tones of sweetness, and sang the words of the song.\n\nI watched the effect upon the drinker. At first he did not seem to hear,\nbut gradually a listening expression stole over his features, and at\nlast his head sank upon his hands. Now was my time. I whispered to him\nof his mother, of his dear old childhood home, of his wife and child\nwaiting anxiously for him even now, and of the dear one who had died and\nwas calling to him from her heavenly abode.\n\nHe, of course, never knew but what they were his own thoughts awakened\nby that tune. In part they were, but their power was intensified by\nspirit presence and aid. His spirit child was close by my side, anxious\nthat her father should be drawn away from that place. From her I learned\nof her mother and invalid sister, who were living, and of whom I\nwhispered in his ear.\n\nThe music ceased, and, rising, the drinker passed from the place,\nunheeding the call of the barkeeper to \u201cstop and take another drink.\u201d\n\nI followed him home, saw his wife and lame daughter, and learned from\nthe state of their minds that he had resisted all their pleadings to\nremain from the rum-shop, and had even raised his hand threateningly to\nhis child. He said nothing that night, but went quietly to bed. In the\nmorning I was there. Softened and humbled in mind, the man sat looking\nout of the window. I went to his daughter, influenced her to call her\nfather and talk to him, as she had never done before. It was the voice\nof the spirit calling to him to look up higher, to pray for a strength\nto resist temptation, and to strive to live a better life. Amid tears of\ncontrition he promised; by the bedside of his invalid child that man\ntook the pledge, and so far it has been kept, and his family are\ncontent, while his spirit child is happy.\n\nOn another occasion I was at a home, drawn there by a spirit who\nsolicited my assistance for her brother, who was addicted to drink. He,\ntoo, had a wife and family of little ones. At the time of my visit, he\nwas possessed with an insane desire for liquor. I heard him promise his\nwife he would take none, but I had no faith in his word.\n\nHe went out. I influenced his little girl to follow him. She was a child\nof about eight years of age, and evidently stood in great fear of her\nfather. We followed him, saw him enter a liquor saloon. I tried to\ninduce her to enter, but she was afraid. \u201cI\u2019d like to follow pa,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201cbut I don\u2019t dare; he\u2019d beat me.\u201d Still I urged, and at last,\ngathering firmness from the spirit world, she boldly entered the saloon,\nand addressed the barkeeper, who was mixing a drink for her father,\nthus:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you give my father anything to drink, mister; it makes him crazy\nand sick, and everything is awful bad at home, and mother cries all the\ntime.\u201d She was greeted with a loud laugh by the bystanders, but taking\nno heed, she seized her father\u2019s hand, saying: \u201cCome, father, don\u2019t stay\nhere; let\u2019s take a walk.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, little girl, let\u2019s take a walk; this is no place for you,\u201d he\nanswered, and, winking to the barkeeper, and whispering: \u201cI\u2019ll be back\nsoon,\u201d he suffered the child to lead him away.\n\nI impressed the child to lead her father toward the water. The evening\nbreeze was blowing cool and refreshing. \u201cFather,\u201d said the child,\n\u201cdoesn\u2019t God see us now?\u201d\n\nThe man was evidently startled, but answered: \u201cYes, I suppose he does,\nif there is any God.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, of course there\u2019s a God,\u201d pursued the child. \u201cDon\u2019t the minister\nsay so, and didn\u2019t grandma use to pray to him? Grandma\u2019s an angel now.\nDo you \u2019spose she saw us in that horrid place, papa?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood heavens, I hope not,\u201d answered the man. \u201cCome, you\u2019d better go\nhome.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, let\u2019s stay here a little while; it\u2019s cool here,\u201d went on the child.\nHer timidity vanished. \u201cI guess grandma did see us, \u2019cause angels can go\neverywhere, you know. I don\u2019t believe she liked to see us there. I hope\nshe\u2019ll ask God to keep you from going there any more, \u2019cause it makes\nmamma cry all the time.\u201d\n\n\u201cCry all the time, does she?\u201d muttered the man. \u201cWell, you must go home\nnow.\u201d\n\nThe cool breeze had lessened the fire in the man\u2019s veins; the child\u2019s\nprattle had driven the present thought of liquor away. Subdued and\nhumbled, he led her home, and went out no more that night. In the\nmorning his employer called for him to go to work, and he had no\nopportunity to visit the saloon.\n\nDuring the day I influenced one of those royal souls yet encased in\nflesh, who go about doing good, to visit that home, where he learned the\nstate of affairs. He called again at tea-time, saw the father and\nhusband, and, by interesting himself in his pleasures and pursuits, won\nhis heart, and induced the man to go with him to a temperance lecture.\n\nThis was the beginning. Before the winter had set in, that man had\nsigned the pledge, and was a member of a temperance organization. True,\nthe victory was not easily won. There were many battles to fight with\nhis appetite; and had it not been for noble souls in mortal who stood by\nhim, we could have done but little; as it was, the rum fiend was\nconquered.\n\nThis is one method of my spirit work,\u2014allying myself with spirits, in\nthe body and out, whose souls are zealously engaged in laboring for\nhumanity. More has been accomplished than I care to tell; but very\nlittle has been done compared to what there is to do, and I am still\nlaboring in co-operation with others, for the good time that is to come\nto all mankind.\n\nThe above are only illustrations of one branch of my efforts to assist\nthose in darkness. My labors have not all been expended in one\ndirection, but I have endeavored to obey the commands laid upon me to go\nout and give the people light. In my travels I have come across mortals\npossessing, to a large degree, mediumistic power, which only needed to\nbe awakened into life and activity to be of use to mankind.\n\nOften these parties were surrounded by conditions very unfavorable to\nthe development of mediumship. In such cases I have endeavored to\nsupply, in part, the favorable conditions from the spirit life, and have\nsucceeded in unfolding powers that have proved a source of comfort to\nothers.\n\nTo illustrate: a number of years ago I was led to visit a spirit circle,\nthe medium of which I found possessing rare powers and abilities, but\nwhich sadly needed culture. She was a young maiden, the child of poor\nparents, who were alike ignorant of the laws of mediumship, and the\nconditions necessary to their unfoldment. Of course, the manifestations\nof spirit presence were crude and variable; but finding I could\nassimilate my powers with those of that medium, I determined to take her\nin charge for awhile, and see if I could not stimulate her spirit forces\nsufficiently to assist them into healthy growth and action.\n\nI did so, all unknown to herself and others, and, by directing her mind\nin a certain channel, succeeded in my task. I selected certain works for\nher perusal,\u2014philosophical, moral, poetical,\u2014and impressed her to read\nthem; awakened in her mind a desire to write compositions and rhymes;\ninfluenced her to attend lectures and sermons, delivered by the loftiest\nintellects of the time, brought to her home parties who could assist her\nin the pursuit of knowledge; and thus, in spite of adverse conditions,\nshe steadily advanced, until today she stands far ahead of her family in\nliterary attainments, and is read and listened to with respect by many\nintelligent, thinking minds.\n\nThe case of that medium presents a striking instance of what spirits can\ndo in educating mortals, and in teaching them immortal truths, which\nthey in turn must give forth to the multitude.\n\nMany times have I given my songs to the world through the lips of\nmortals. Sometimes they appeared crude and ill-expressed, limited, and\nwarped by the undeveloped channels through which they flowed; but even\nthen I rejoiced to know that they could bear comfort and hope to the\nsorrowing or the sinning souls they were destined to reach. At other\ntimes, my productions have caught a richness of expression, a beautiful\nand harmonious blending of sentiment and rhythm, from the depths of the\nmediumistic souls through whom they came that sent them ringing through\nthe hearts of those who read or listened, until they seemed uplifted\ninto the clear air of heaven.\n\nBut my greatest joy has been in assisting the inner powers of others to\ngrow and expand, leading them in their cravings for knowledge, and\naiding their faltering steps up the rugged heights of life, in search of\ntruth and right. When I find a soul who delights to take a sentiment and\nto express it clearly in rhyme, I encourage that spirit, no matter how\ncrude or uncertain its efforts may be, for I perceive that the spirit is\nputting forth its powers, that, like the feelers of a plant, it is\ngroping around to find a support that will bear it in its growth; and\nthat, if it receives the strength and prop it needs, it will develop\ninto a thing of blossoming beauty. But I do not encourage these souls to\nput forth their first feeble expressions to the world any more than I\nwould advise the florist to place a tiny, fragile slip of plant-life out\nin the full glare of a summer day. I watch them, and, by directing their\nthoughts into proper channels, and influencing them what to read in\norder to expand their minds, sometimes succeed in raising a rare stock,\nthat favors the world with an abundance of rich and fragrant blossoms.\n\nThousands of spirits are engaged in such work, in divers directions, and\nin multiplied ways; for they recognize the fact that to have the spirit\nworld peopled by a race of noble, thoughtful, moral, and intellectual\nsouls, we must refine and educate those who are still on earth,\u2014educate\nthem in a knowledge of life and its laws, an understanding of the soul\nand its requirements, and an appreciation of truth and its unfoldments;\nand to do this we are teaching and directing those sensitive, intuitive\nsouls who can catch the inspirations of the spheres, and sending them\nforth as teachers to the masses.\n\nIn my wanderings to and fro as a spirit, I have become a cosmopolite,\u2014a\ncitizen of the world,\u2014claiming my home wherever I may be of use to\nhumanity. But my efforts for the amelioration of suffering have not been\nconfined to material life alone. I have met many distressed spirits who\npassed from the body, scarred and scathed by sin and passion, and who,\nin consequence, have been plunged in mental darkness; to them I have\nsought to bring hope and encouragement. The world beyond is thronged\nwith those unhappy souls, and, though we cannot save them, as each one\nmust work out his own salvation, yet we can aid and teach them to find\nthe better way, and encourage them to persevere in their efforts to\natone for the past by doing right.\n\nIn my anxiety and eagerness to atone for my own past folly by helping\nothers, I had taken no heed of the lapse of time, my whole soul having\nbeen wrapped in my work.\n\nI was at a seance in London one night, and had succeeded in gaining\npartial possession of a youth whom I wished to develop as a medium.\nWhile in this condition, unable to make my presence known, one of the\nparty remarked: \u201cWe ought to have an exceptionably good seance tonight,\nas it is the last one of the year; tomorrow brings us 1872.\u201d The words\nbrought to me a vision of New Years\u2019 Eves spent in the past, and with it\na longing for the sight of dear and familiar faces. I began to grow\nhome-sick and weary. Five years previous I passed from the body, and\nmost of the intervening time I had spent among strangers. With this\nthought in my mind I found myself losing control of my subject, and in a\nmoment I was away from material things, and out in the realm of spirit.\nLong before I had learned to travel by an effort of will as spirits do,\nand I could now upon desiring to be in any place instantly be there.\nTime and distance have no power over the ascended soul, and it can\ntravel with the velocity of thought. In a moment I found myself in the\nmagnificent garden I had before visited. All was blooming in richness\nand beauty. I entered the stately portals of a superb mansion, in the\ncenter of which a group of spirits were gathered in social converse.\nJudge of my delight in recognizing all who were dearest to me,\u2014parents,\nkindred, and friends. As I entered I heard my mother say: \u201cAll day I\nhave been calling Critchley. I am sure he must come, we all want him so\nmuch; he is doing a good work,\u2014bless the lad,\u2014but I would like to meet\nhim here.\u201d\n\nMy soul leaped forth in response to these words. I was immediately seen\nand recognized. It is impossible to describe the bliss and rapture of\nthat meeting. None but those who have experienced can understand the\nlike. The welcome more than recompensed me for past pain and sorrow. It\nbrought an infinite peace and calm that the world can never take away. I\nremained with my friends for a time, but not idle; I had learned that\ntrue joy cannot reach the soul that is inert. Action is the law of life.\n\nThere was much for me to learn of spirit life and its laws, and I set\nmyself to work to acquire knowledge, not forgetting to return frequently\nto earth to see if there was anything to do, nor neglecting to minister\nto the unfortunate spirits I met. At the present writing I have learned\nbut little in comparison with what there is to attain, but with active\npowers, trained for work and study, assisted by wise, beneficent\nteachers, and surrounded by loving souls, it would be strange, indeed,\nif a spirit\u2019s course should not be upward and onward toward the realms\nof infinite light and truth.\n\nEngaged in the work I had chosen, I had no time for regrets.\nRetrospection became no longer a scourge, but a guide, which, by showing\nme wherein I had erred, pointed out the true way to amendment; and in\nstriving to gain knowledge of the higher, better way of living,\u2014the way\nof the spirit, bound to no avenue of sensual life, but seeking the\nintellectual haunts of wisdom and truth,\u2014I found peace of mind, and, in\nseeking to bring happiness to others, I became truly happy myself.\n\nAgain I stood in the Temple of Art; again I found myself in the Poet\u2019s\nChamber, but no longer an outcast and an alien. Indeed, I was greeted as\none whose coming was expected, and welcomed with a warm cordiality and\nroyal fervor that was very refreshing to my soul.\n\nThe same kingly company was assembled, but augmented by a number of\nother souls, rich with their freight of poetic imagery. The assembly was\nnot composed entirely of my own countrymen and women, as heretofore; for\namong that mighty throng could be seen the smiling, open, intelligent\nfaces of Thomas Moore, the sweet singer of the Emerald Isle, and Robert\nBurns, he who found his best inspiration amid the rugged heights and\nheather-crowned hills of Scotia\u2019s land. Many others were present, whom I\nfailed to recognize, clad in the flowing robes and purple vestments of\nthe Roman period, or in the classic garments of ancient Greece.\n\nBut England\u2019s delegation was a large one, numbering those of every\ncentury and age: Pope and Spenser, Johnson, Cowley, and Butler, Dryden,\nGay, Thomson, and Young,\u2014not the sad, melancholy, pensive Edward Young\nof earth, but the radiant, calm, contented Edward Young of spirit life;\ngentle Henry Kirke White, liberty-loving Thomas Campbell, and\nstouthearted, staunch, and true Walter Scott, who, though not English\nborn, yet seemed very near to me.\n\nAddison, whom I had mentioned as occupying the seat of honor before, now\nsat low at the feet of him who occupied the position of the Master of\nCeremonies, and whom I recognized as the true, loyal, long-suffering,\nyet monarch-crowned soul, Milton. At his right was to be seen the lofty\nbrow, and bold, fearless, speaking countenance of William Shakespeare;\nwhile, at the left, Dryden seemed to be acting as assistant or\nsecretary.\n\nIn my experience of spirit power and possibilities, I had learned to\nunderstand and interpret the waves of thought flowing from soul to soul;\ntherefore I was at no loss to understand the purport and purposes of\nthis convention. It was a gathering of kindred souls, met to communicate\nthe loftiest thoughts and sweetest aspirations to each other, thus\ndispensing the bountiful gifts of the spirit to all who would partake.\n\nI cannot describe to you the rich, ennobling thoughts, clothed in their\ndraperies of sweetest imagery, which flowed from the soul of him who\npresided, into ours, the recipients\u2019; nor the grandeur and sublimity of\nthe ideas with which he threaded, like brands of shimmering pearls, the\nnetwork of his discourse. But all was grand and glorious, beyond the\npower of mortals to conceive. At the close of his remarks, the company\nclustered into knots, discussing the discourse, comparing experiences,\nor revealing to each other the secret depths of their poetic souls, from\nwhich were to be drawn lines, glowing with the beauty and fragrance of\nharmonious lives.\n\nIt was then I discovered that every soul that is attuned into harmony\nwith the inner life, that dwells in sympathy with the Divine Mind, as\nmanifested in his outer creations of will, in his natural expressions of\nlove and beauty, is in itself a poem of rare delicacy and power; a\nliving, breathing, animated poem, thrilled with the magic power of\nthought, and stamped with the eternal glory of individualized liberty;\nthat every poetic soul is itself the production of the Infinite Mind,\nthat must make itself heard in lines of glowing, inspiring thought along\nthe pathway of human toil and suffering, and cannot fail to arouse the\nhidden energies and sleeping possibilities of power of those it comes in\n_rapport_ with.\n\nIt was then I was made supremely blest by being taken by the hand by\nsuch souls as Cowper, Byron,\u2014my boyhood\u2019s ideal,\u2014Burns, Scott, Campbell,\nMoore, Mrs. Browning, Felicia Hemans, and others, and welcomed to this\nhaunt of the beautiful and the good. And I cannot convey to you my\nexquisite sense of pleasures when my hand was again grasped by that of\nmy helper and friend, Robert B. Brough, and I was enabled to bless him\nfor the avenues of tranquility and peace he had opened out to me. But I\nmust not linger here, although sweet and pleasant to me are these\nreminiscences of actual life in the spheres.\n\nLeaving the Poets\u2019 Chamber, I visited in turn the Musicians\u2019 Gallery,\nthe Sculptors\u2019 Hall, and the Artists\u2019 Studio. It is impossible for\nmortal hands to pen a description of what is to be seen and heard in\nthem. Words fail, and language grows cold and unmeaning before the\nsplendid achievements of the upper world.\n\nImagine, if you can, all the sweetest sounds your soul has ever heard or\ndreamed of, blended into one harmonious whole, swelling louder, clearer,\nand sweeter, or melting away into the far-off distance, like the gentle\nfading of a glorious sunset, absorbed by a finer and more ethereal\nbeauty of azure brightness, and you will have a faint conception of the\nmusic and the singing of the spheres.\n\nImagine, if you can, all the most graceful, beautifully-molded,\nperfectly-formed and rounded, exquisitely carved and\ndelicately-sculptured forms of statuary, of which you have ever heard or\nread grouped together, forming a class of the rarest workmanship and art\nthat human skill and genius can chisel from the marble block, and you\nhave a slight idea of the superb expression of the sculptor\u2019s soul which\nis perfected in the immortal world. Dream, if you can, of the most\nmagnificent scenery the world affords, the most royal landscapes, the\nmost superb water views, and you may be able to just approach in thought\nan idea of the productions of the artist\u2019s soul that line the walls of\nthe artists\u2019 studio in spirit life.\n\nRecollect all the sweet, the beautiful, and the various expressions of\nthe human countenance,\u2014the fire, the vigor, and sparkling triumph of the\neye, the restless energy or quiet repose of the limbs, the smiling,\nspeaking expression of the lips,\u2014and you can faintly conceive the models\nand patterns that spirit artists and sculptors seek to emulate. And have\nthey succeeded? To a certain extent, decidedly, yes.\n\nEnter a hall of statuary, and in the marble beauties, grouped together\nthere, you find the expression of peace, hope, or joy depicted with\nmarvelous fidelity; you observe the contour of the limbs as perfect as\nin life, and all seemingly permeated with that indescribable something\nthat gives them the appearance of having the power to move, act, and\nwalk off at will.\n\nUpon entering the artists\u2019 studio, at the farther end of which is\nsuspended a magnificent landscape painting, you would, at first sight,\nbelieve yourself to be gazing upon a scene of natural life and beauty.\nThe lights and shadows seem to be continually shifting, the trees to be\nwaving their branches, and the streamlet running along in murmuring\ngladness. The clouds appear to be settling slowly down upon the distant\nmountains, while it distinctly seems to you that the cattle, grazing in\nthe meadows, are moving lazily along, half wearied out by the incessant\nbuzzing of the hovering insects.\n\nSo it is with the music of the upper life. It approaches as near the\nharmonious, perfect blending of the various parts of the human voice as\ncan be imagined; and the utterances of the poets partake of the life of\nthe giver, and are animated with true fire and vigor, which is of itself\na part of that Eternal Voice that is the author and sustainer of all\nlife and being.\n\nBut these spirit artists are by no means satisfied with what they have\nproduced; they see something grander, more beautiful, sublime, and\nperfect, which they are striving to attain. Their ideal is as yet\nunexpressed; but, with the perfect development of the soul and its\npossibilities, all that is ever dreamed of must find expression in the\noutworkings of the spirit.\n\nBut I have found that, with all its striving to emulate and express the\nworkings of Nature, in its perfect form, that the soul of the true\nartist, poet, and songster finds its keenest delight in stamping its\npoems, paintings, and songs upon the receptive human mind that is ready\nto receive; that the true poet breathes his fiery inspirations upon the\nslumbering soul, awakening it to life and activity, bringing to it an\nenjoyment and appreciation of the beauties of the inner life, and of the\nsplendors of natural creation; that the true artist paints in glowing\ncolors on the sensitive souls of mortals a beautiful landscape of the\nhigher life, which arouses those souls to a realizing sense of the\nbeautiful, and develops within them an ideal, for which they will ever\nstrive; that the true musician and singer sends his sweet strains\nechoing through the souls of mortals, developing their sweetest, noblest\npowers, to bless and enrich the musical world; and that the true\nsculptor finds his delight in molding and carving out the possibilities\nof those he can approach, of chiseling and chipping away all that is\ndetrimental to the spirit\u2019s growth, and bringing forth to light an angel\nof power and beauty from the rough, unpolished mass of individuality. In\nshort, that the workers of the higher life do not find enjoyment in\nbringing their own productions to earth, but their highest blessing and\nprivilege is in being able to impress, work upon, and guide the hidden,\ninner powers of souls in mortal forms until they develop the beauty and\nglory within them, and awaken their spirits to an understanding of\nbeautiful life, an appreciation of the good and true, and a knowledge of\nthe possibility of the power that is theirs.\n\nNot alone were my visits confined to the Temple of Art; although\nattracted to that place by the laws of sympathy and association, yet my\ndesire to gain knowledge and a comprehension of truth led me, in company\nwith other inquiring minds, to visit the Spiritual Congress, and to pay\nmarked attention to the learned and honorable body there assembled, and\nbusily employed in devising various schemes for the enlightenment,\namelioration, and welfare of humanity; to visit the Wisdom Circles, and\nreceive enlightenment upon the laws governing life and its unfoldments;\nand to visit our medical colleges and learn of the true method, not of\ncuring disease, but of preventing sickness and preserving health. And I\ntell you that humanity on earth have yet to learn more of medical and\nlegal jurisprudence than has ever been dreamed of by mortals.\n\nBut I must draw this narrative to a close. I might go on multiplying my\nexperiences almost _ad infinitum_ had I the time and space; but such has\nnot been my object in coming. I have endeavored to show you how a\nspirit, weighed down by its consciousness of misspent days and\nmisapplied powers and energies, bowed down by its load of past\nwrong-doing and follies, darkened by its work neglected, and duties\nunfulfilled, may be able, by the desire of his own soul, and the aid and\nsympathy of others, to rise out of his darkened condition into the\nlight, to work his salvation from sin and his way to righteousness. But\nit was no easy task. I have not given you an account of all the fiery\ntemptations that assailed me in my search for the better life, or the\nbitter struggles my soul passed through ere it became the master.\n\nThrough devious ways and tortuous paths the soul must pass that has done\nwrong to itself and others; but if it is in earnest in its desire to\nbecome better, if it craves strength and aid from the higher powers, if\nit reaches its aspirations out toward the better, purer, grander life of\nthe spirit, be sure that it must and will succeed.\n\nI can dimly perceive that away down in the distant future humanity is to\nbroaden and develop into the perfect type of angelhood; that the\ndivinest attributes of the soul are yet to govern and control the body;\nand ignorance, darkness, and crime flee before the dawning light of\nknowledge and wisdom; and that human life is to become illuminated with\nthe glory of universal love and harmony.\n\nI can believe that the \u201cgood time coming,\u201d \u201cthe year of jubilee,\u201d \u201cthe\nmillennium,\u201d so long foretold by prophet and seer, so often mentioned in\nsong and story, the poet\u2019s dream and the idealist\u2019s fancy, is yet to\ndawn upon the awakened world; when man, become strong through the\neducators of love and sympathy, made wise by the acquirement of\nknowledge, and the recognition of truth, shall look upon all humans as\nhis brothers and sisters, shall learn that war is a crime against the\nhuman family, and tyranny, injustice, and oppression sins against the\nHoly Ghost. Then shall mankind fraternize, and nations sit down in\nuniversal peace. I believe that the human form is yet to bear the stamp\nand impress of all that is lovely and divine.\n\nI was with a friend at a convocation of spirits, where were gathered\ntogether a large throng of refined, intelligent beings, each one marked\nwith a beauty all his or her own, and I amused myself by comparing the\ndifferent individuals with the beautiful forms in nature which they\nreminded me of, and the resemblance\u2014so to speak\u2014was so apparent that I\ncalled my friend\u2019s attention to it by remarking:\n\n\u201cDid you ever observe that there is a certain resemblance between\nhumanity and the forms of Nature? For instance, yonder lady, with her\npure, white face, daintily-carved features, and lithe, willowy form,\nreminds me of nothing but a stately garden-lily, shimmering with\nwhiteness; and that laughing, rosy-cheeked sprite beside her, with her\nrounded form and well-developed features, is very like the royal\nblush-rose of summer.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery true,\u201d replied my friend; \u201cand over there you note the speaker;\ndoes not his massive frame, well-proportioned limbs, lofty brow, and\nshining features remind you of some mighty bowlder, uprearing its head\nwith a consciousness of might and grandeur?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe does, indeed; the shadow of a great rock in a weary land; and just\nbeside him rests one whose tall, straight form, beneficent looks, and\nair of protectiveness calls to mind the forest tree with its ample\nprovision of kindly shade and shelter.\u201d\n\nAnd so we went on, drawing our comparisons,\u2014one, with her calm,\nbenignant smile, and a wealth of love and sympathy welling up from her\nnature, and expressing itself in the depths of her shining eyes, we\nlikened to the smiling, open sea, overflowing with its wealth, and\nwatering and refreshing the earth. Another, who was bubbling over with a\nsuperabundance of merriment and joy, we likened to the laughing,\ngurgling streamlet that overleaps all bounds, and speeds merrily along\nits way. One, of majestic form, replete with vital force, with a look of\nconcentrated determination in his face, and an expression of energetic\npower impressed upon him, reminded us of the ocean, mighty in its\nmajesty and power. One shone like the sun, another sparkled like a\nsunbeam; one brought an air of refreshing coolness with her, another\nglowed and glimmered like the autumn days.\n\n\u201cThe fact of it is,\u201d said my friend, \u201call that there is good and\nbeautiful in nature is personified and individualized, so to speak, in\nthe higher types of humanity. All the richness and splendor of creation\nculminate their grandest expressions in the human form; and when\nspirituality has ripened and developed the soul, its outer tenement will\nbecome so harmonized with the natural life of creation, so blended with\nthe external manifestations of God, that it will become permeated with\nHis life, and will reflect all the beauty and fragrance, all the grace\nand symmetry, of His works. Do you understand?\u201d\n\nI did, but I know not that I make it plain to mortals; suffice it to\nsay, that I believe the day is coming when each soul shall have grown so\nin harmony with the laws of life that it will reflect upon its outward\nform only the beautiful and the good.\n\nI had not long returned to spirit life ere I again met my former friend\nand teacher, \u201cBenja, the missionary.\u201d The sage was engaged in his usual\nemployment of aiding souls in need. The pleasure of our meeting was\nmutual, but cannot be expressed by mortal pen; it was of the soul, true\nand fervent, and shone in the speaking eye and upon the trembling lip.\nSince that time I have often sought the company of the sage, and always\nwith profit to myself. He has been an invaluable guide to me in my\nsearch for knowledge, and has lifted my spirit into a pure atmosphere.\nSpirit life is full of such workers, and by their efforts, combined with\nthe desires of sin-sick souls to become better, we look for the\nredemption of the human race from error.\n\nAnd now, good friends, you, unto whom I have revealed a few of the most\nvitalizing experiences of my spiritual life, I feel that I must draw\nthese papers to a close, and, taking each one of you spiritually by the\nhand, bid you go on with your efforts in self-culture and advancement;\nand God speed you forward in your work for your own souls and for\nhumanity.\n\nAgain I say, it is impossible for me to convey to you anything more than\na mere outline of the inner experience of the spirit; each one of you\nmust undergo the process for yourselves ere you can realize how intense\nin thought and feeling, and how thoroughly quickened into life, are all\nthe sensations of spiritual existence. In fact, spirit is all thought,\nall sense, and it is as impossible to escape from ourselves, and the\nconsequences of our lives, as it is to exist without the ordinary mode\nof respiration.\n\nHence, let me entreat you to endeavor constantly and earnestly to so\nlive that only the reflection of a pure life shall cast itself over your\nspirit; that only the recollection of good accomplished and evil\nresisted shall visit your soul when you have attained the immortal\nheights of the other world.\n\nBut, ere I close, I feel that I must say a word in regard to the cause\nthat lies nearest my heart. Interested as I am, and must be, in all\nmovements of reform, all methods of advancement calculated to ameliorate\nthe condition of humanity, and eager as I am to see the race moving\nalong upon a higher, purer, more spiritualized plane of life, yet my\nsoul\u2019s best endeavors must be employed in the temperance cause. As one\nwho has sinned and suffered, as one who has experienced the agony and\nthe vicissitudes of intemperance, I feel it my duty to hang out a\nwarning flag to others that shall be a signal of danger to those who\nlook that way.\n\nSad, aye, too, too sad it is that, while women weep and children wail\nbecause of the misery entailed upon them, spirit life is crowded with\nsouls that have passed out from earth with the taint of intemperance\ndefiling their persons and dragging them downward. No wonder, then, that\nthe angels weep in pity; no wonder that noble souls come thronging back,\npleading with you to seek for good, to resist evil, and to uplift your\nhead above the haunts of wrong and wickedness.\n\nHow long, aye, how long shall this state of things continue to exist?\nWhen shall the morning dawn that shall usher in a new day, a day of\nuniversal temperance and purity on earth? When shall the darkness break,\nand a new era of light, of knowledge and wisdom, come flooding in upon\nus? Not until man shall study the laws of his own being, and, so\nstudying, learn to live in harmony with those laws. Not until every man\nand every woman becomes a physiologist, understanding the structure and\ncomposition of his or her own organism, and learning of that wisdom\nwhich says: \u201cPartake of nothing but what assimilates with the component\nparts of your body, or satisfies the natural demands of nature.\u201d Not\nuntil men and women study the law of heredity, of transmission, which\nteaches that whatever trait of character, whatever peculiarity of\ndisposition, whatever fatal appetite or habit the parents possess, is\ntransmitted to their offspring, either in a modified or aggravated\ndegree, and is sure to crop out somewhere and at some time in one form\nor another. Not until humanity, learning these truths, live up to them\nin obedience to all their requirements will the day of universal\nhappiness, peace, and purity dawn upon earth.\n\nI am rejoiced to find that a public sentiment is being created in regard\nto this subject,\u2014a public sentiment that is felt throughout the length\nand breadth of nations,\u2014a sentiment in favor of suppressing the\nmanufacture and sale of alcoholic liquors, and of seeking to elevate and\npromote the cause of temperance, at all times and in all places. It has\ncrept into the churches, and now the clergy dare utter sentiments in its\nfavor; it makes itself heard in the street, and upon the rostrum; it\nenters our legislative halls, and demands a hearing; and it has formed\norganizations, the power and influence of which are felt everywhere. So\nmuch for the cause of temperance; and, encouraged by public sentiment,\nit must and shall prosper, and eventually triumph. A public sentiment in\nits favor must continue to grow until the manufacture and sale of\nalcohol as a beverage will be universally admitted to be a crime against\nhumanity; no man who cares for the opinion of his fellows (and what man\ndoes not?) dare to engage in the business, and intemperance be so\ngenerally looked upon as an evil that no man will or woman will raise\nthe wine-cup to his or her lips. That time must come, and may God and\nangels hasten the day.\n\nNow, a few closing words to those unfortunates who are addicted to the\nhabit of intemperance: my whole soul goes out to you in sympathy, and,\nwere it possible, I would lift you all upon a platform of mental\nstrength and moral integrity. I do not condemn, I pity; I dare not\ncensure, I sympathize. From my own experience I know the road you have\nto travel, and, if I could, I would enfold you in that divine strength\nthat would enable you to crush the serpent under your feet. Let me\nimplore you, out of the deep compassion of my soul, to endeavor, with\nall your determined will-power and firmness, to throw off the fatal\nhabit that binds you; to become free beings, slaves of no appetite nor\npassion; to crush them down and assert your manhood. Thus, with the love\nand aid of the angels, you will become pure, and worthy of their\ncompanionship. Go on, and heaven bless you in your efforts for\nselfredemption.\n\nAnd now, good friends, adieu. May the angels of love and harmony, of\npurity and peace, abide with you always, fitting your lives for a\nhabitation of light, and an experience of joy in the spirit world.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in\n spelling.\n 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.\n 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"Life and labor in the spirit world: Being a description of localities, employments, surroundings, and conditions in the spheres.","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":112917}