Chapter XXV: My Spiritual Work

It would ill become me to speak of my own efforts. There is so much to be done that the individual work of one alone is necessarily small; but if we strive to do good, with a will and a desire to benefit others, we cannot fail to be of use; and that you may know how it is a spirit labors in conjunction with mortals, I will briefly speak of my method of work, and give you a few instances of what I have done or have striven to do.

I remember one circumstance well. At a gambling house in a large English city, I encountered a lad, about eighteen years of age, whom I could see had been enticed there by the alluring visions of a fortune to be made, pictured to him by those well versed in the secrets of sinful practices. He was a pale, delicate youth, with an intellectual cast of countenance, a well-bred air, and one evidently worthy of better things. I was attracted to him as he sat at the table, his whole mind concentrated upon the game he was playing.

Suddenly, he pushed back his chair, rubbed his brow in a bewildered manner, and muttering: “Lost, everything lost; I counted on this chance to retrieve my luck, but it is no use, everything is against me;” he seized his hat and fled from the place. I followed him, not knowing what he might do, and wishing to serve him if in my power. It was to his room that we went, the attic floor of a dingy lodging-house in an obscure quarter of the city. I found that he was a student, striving to pay his way by literary labor, while gaining an education. His parents were poor, hard-working people, living back in the country, who had done all they could to assist their son.

Flinging himself upon his humble bed, the youth gave himself up to dismal thoughts, the tenor of which was that he wished he was dead. His money was all gone, nothing left of all he had possessed but his books; remunerative employment he found impossible to procure, and he knew not how to gain the means of livelihood. He could not apply to his friends; indeed, he would not have them know his situation for the world, and nothing remained but to put himself out of the way as soon as possible.

In vain did I strive to turn his thoughts in another direction; in vain I pictured to his mind the horror and anguish of his friends, when they should learn what he had done. He was in no condition to be impressed by any influence that I could bring to bear upon him.

Again he started up and left the house, I still accompanying him. He entered a small drug-store upon the corner, and, nodding nonchalantly to a young lad about his own age behind the counter, said: “Ned, I wish you’d trust me for a few pennies’ worth of arsenic; the rats are becoming such a bore up in my attic that I must do something, especially as the landlady pays no attention to my complaints.”

“All right,” responded the clerk, taking a bottle of white powder from the shelf, and proceeding to do up a small package from its contents. “But you must be very careful of it. I suppose you know how to use it?”

“Yes, thanks; I’ll settle as soon as I can,” replied the youth, and, taking the parcel, he hurried from the shop.

I knew not what to do. I did not like to see that youth throw himself away in the manner he thought of doing; but how could I prevent it?

In a moment more, a doctor’s chaise drove up to the druggist’s door, and a portly, good-natured looking gentleman, of about five-and-forty years of age, alighted and entered the shop.

“Ned,” said he, “prepare a bottle of cough-mixture from this recipe,” handing him the prescription, “and send it with a box of soothing powders to Mrs. Simms. She’s very bad.”

“All right, sir,” replied the clerk; “but look here a minute. Harold H., who lives at No. 8, was here a minute ago for arsenic. He said it was to kill rats. I let him have it, but some how or other just now I feel nervous about it.”

Upon the doctor’s entrance, I saw in an instant he was the one to be influenced in the right direction, and it was I who had produced the uneasiness in the clerk’s mind, and impressed him to speak.

“Ah,” said the doctor, “I’ll stop and see about this; and do you, Master Ned, have a care how you sell poisonous articles to whoever comes for them.”

He hurried from the store over to No. 8, entered, and without ceremony passed up to the attic of the wouldbe suicide. I of course followed. We found the youth engaged in writing a letter, the package of poison close to his hand.

It is needless for me to recount all that passed in that interview. Suffice it to say, that, by a few welldirected inquiries, that good man managed to learn the condition of the lad, and what had been its cause. He then proceeded to talk to him earnestly and firmly, yet kindly, of the sin he contemplated, of the agony of his mother upon hearing of the deed, and the anguish he would cause to all he loved.

The young man broke down, wept bitterly, and promised he would live to be a better man. The physician furnished him with means sufficient for present necessities, promised him he would interest some of his influential friends in his behalf, and, when he left, carried the poison with him.

The man kept his word, and through his influence Harold H. was placed in better circumstances, assisted in his efforts to gain an education, and lives today an ornament and useful member of society, and the pride of his parents and friends.

More than once I have visited liquor saloons, hoping to draw some poor wretch away from the curse of rum and its allurements. I have not always succeeded, but at times have been more successful.

On one of these occasions, a man in the prime of life, who was drinking copiously, and rapidly making himself worse than a beast, arrested my attention, but I could make no impression upon him. While making the effort, a street musician began playing a dancing tune. The musician, a young and delicate boy, accompanied by a still younger female child, who was the dancer, was one whom I could impress, which I did by making him cease the dancing tune, and begin that sweet, pathetic air of Payne’s “Home, Sweet Home.” The little maid stopped her dancing, looked puzzled for a moment, when, catching the inspiration of the moment, she broke out in bird-like tones of sweetness, and sang the words of the song.

I watched the effect upon the drinker. At first he did not seem to hear, but gradually a listening expression stole over his features, and at last his head sank upon his hands. Now was my time. I whispered to him of his mother, of his dear old childhood home, of his wife and child waiting anxiously for him even now, and of the dear one who had died and was calling to him from her heavenly abode.

He, of course, never knew but what they were his own thoughts awakened by that tune. In part they were, but their power was intensified by spirit presence and aid. His spirit child was close by my side, anxious that her father should be drawn away from that place. From her I learned of her mother and invalid sister, who were living, and of whom I whispered in his ear.

The music ceased, and, rising, the drinker passed from the place, unheeding the call of the barkeeper to “stop and take another drink.”

I followed him home, saw his wife and lame daughter, and learned from the state of their minds that he had resisted all their pleadings to remain from the rum-shop, and had even raised his hand threateningly to his child. He said nothing that night, but went quietly to bed. In the morning I was there. Softened and humbled in mind, the man sat looking out of the window. I went to his daughter, influenced her to call her father and talk to him, as she had never done before. It was the voice of the spirit calling to him to look up higher, to pray for a strength to resist temptation, and to strive to live a better life. Amid tears of contrition he promised; by the bedside of his invalid child that man took the pledge, and so far it has been kept, and his family are content, while his spirit child is happy.

On another occasion I was at a home, drawn there by a spirit who solicited my assistance for her brother, who was addicted to drink. He, too, had a wife and family of little ones. At the time of my visit, he was possessed with an insane desire for liquor. I heard him promise his wife he would take none, but I had no faith in his word.

He went out. I influenced his little girl to follow him. She was a child of about eight years of age, and evidently stood in great fear of her father. We followed him, saw him enter a liquor saloon. I tried to induce her to enter, but she was afraid. “I’d like to follow pa,” she said, “but I don’t dare; he’d beat me.” Still I urged, and at last, gathering firmness from the spirit world, she boldly entered the saloon, and addressed the barkeeper, who was mixing a drink for her father, thus:

“Don’t you give my father anything to drink, mister; it makes him crazy and sick, and everything is awful bad at home, and mother cries all the time.” She was greeted with a loud laugh by the bystanders, but taking no heed, she seized her father’s hand, saying: “Come, father, don’t stay here; let’s take a walk.”

“Yes, yes, little girl, let’s take a walk; this is no place for you,” he answered, and, winking to the barkeeper, and whispering: “I’ll be back soon,” he suffered the child to lead him away.

I impressed the child to lead her father toward the water. The evening breeze was blowing cool and refreshing. “Father,” said the child, “doesn’t God see us now?”

The man was evidently startled, but answered: “Yes, I suppose he does, if there is any God.”

“Oh, of course there’s a God,” pursued the child. “Don’t the minister say so, and didn’t grandma use to pray to him? Grandma’s an angel now. Do you ’spose she saw us in that horrid place, papa?”

“Good heavens, I hope not,” answered the man. “Come, you’d better go home.”

“No, let’s stay here a little while; it’s cool here,” went on the child. Her timidity vanished. “I guess grandma did see us, ’cause angels can go everywhere, you know. I don’t believe she liked to see us there. I hope she’ll ask God to keep you from going there any more, ’cause it makes mamma cry all the time.”

“Cry all the time, does she?” muttered the man. “Well, you must go home now.”

The cool breeze had lessened the fire in the man’s veins; the child’s prattle had driven the present thought of liquor away. Subdued and humbled, he led her home, and went out no more that night. In the morning his employer called for him to go to work, and he had no opportunity to visit the saloon.

During the day I influenced one of those royal souls yet encased in flesh, who go about doing good, to visit that home, where he learned the state of affairs. He called again at tea-time, saw the father and husband, and, by interesting himself in his pleasures and pursuits, won his heart, and induced the man to go with him to a temperance lecture.

This was the beginning. Before the winter had set in, that man had signed the pledge, and was a member of a temperance organization. True, the victory was not easily won. There were many battles to fight with his appetite; and had it not been for noble souls in mortal who stood by him, we could have done but little; as it was, the rum fiend was conquered.

This is one method of my spirit work,—allying myself with spirits, in the body and out, whose souls are zealously engaged in laboring for humanity. More has been accomplished than I care to tell; but very little has been done compared to what there is to do, and I am still laboring in co-operation with others, for the good time that is to come to all mankind.

The above are only illustrations of one branch of my efforts to assist those in darkness. My labors have not all been expended in one direction, but I have endeavored to obey the commands laid upon me to go out and give the people light. In my travels I have come across mortals possessing, to a large degree, mediumistic power, which only needed to be awakened into life and activity to be of use to mankind.

Often these parties were surrounded by conditions very unfavorable to the development of mediumship. In such cases I have endeavored to supply, in part, the favorable conditions from the spirit life, and have succeeded in unfolding powers that have proved a source of comfort to others.

To illustrate: a number of years ago I was led to visit a spirit circle, the medium of which I found possessing rare powers and abilities, but which sadly needed culture. She was a young maiden, the child of poor parents, who were alike ignorant of the laws of mediumship, and the conditions necessary to their unfoldment. Of course, the manifestations of spirit presence were crude and variable; but finding I could assimilate my powers with those of that medium, I determined to take her in charge for awhile, and see if I could not stimulate her spirit forces sufficiently to assist them into healthy growth and action.

I did so, all unknown to herself and others, and, by directing her mind in a certain channel, succeeded in my task. I selected certain works for her perusal,—philosophical, moral, poetical,—and impressed her to read them; awakened in her mind a desire to write compositions and rhymes; influenced her to attend lectures and sermons, delivered by the loftiest intellects of the time, brought to her home parties who could assist her in the pursuit of knowledge; and thus, in spite of adverse conditions, she steadily advanced, until today she stands far ahead of her family in literary attainments, and is read and listened to with respect by many intelligent, thinking minds.

The case of that medium presents a striking instance of what spirits can do in educating mortals, and in teaching them immortal truths, which they in turn must give forth to the multitude.

Many times have I given my songs to the world through the lips of mortals. Sometimes they appeared crude and ill-expressed, limited, and warped by the undeveloped channels through which they flowed; but even then I rejoiced to know that they could bear comfort and hope to the sorrowing or the sinning souls they were destined to reach. At other times, my productions have caught a richness of expression, a beautiful and harmonious blending of sentiment and rhythm, from the depths of the mediumistic souls through whom they came that sent them ringing through the hearts of those who read or listened, until they seemed uplifted into the clear air of heaven.

But my greatest joy has been in assisting the inner powers of others to grow and expand, leading them in their cravings for knowledge, and aiding their faltering steps up the rugged heights of life, in search of truth and right. When I find a soul who delights to take a sentiment and to express it clearly in rhyme, I encourage that spirit, no matter how crude or uncertain its efforts may be, for I perceive that the spirit is putting forth its powers, that, like the feelers of a plant, it is groping around to find a support that will bear it in its growth; and that, if it receives the strength and prop it needs, it will develop into a thing of blossoming beauty. But I do not encourage these souls to put forth their first feeble expressions to the world any more than I would advise the florist to place a tiny, fragile slip of plant-life out in the full glare of a summer day. I watch them, and, by directing their thoughts into proper channels, and influencing them what to read in order to expand their minds, sometimes succeed in raising a rare stock, that favors the world with an abundance of rich and fragrant blossoms.

Thousands of spirits are engaged in such work, in divers directions, and in multiplied ways; for they recognize the fact that to have the spirit world peopled by a race of noble, thoughtful, moral, and intellectual souls, we must refine and educate those who are still on earth,—educate them in a knowledge of life and its laws, an understanding of the soul and its requirements, and an appreciation of truth and its unfoldments; and to do this we are teaching and directing those sensitive, intuitive souls who can catch the inspirations of the spheres, and sending them forth as teachers to the masses.

In my wanderings to and fro as a spirit, I have become a cosmopolite,—a citizen of the world,—claiming my home wherever I may be of use to humanity. But my efforts for the amelioration of suffering have not been confined to material life alone. I have met many distressed spirits who passed from the body, scarred and scathed by sin and passion, and who, in consequence, have been plunged in mental darkness; to them I have sought to bring hope and encouragement. The world beyond is thronged with those unhappy souls, and, though we cannot save them, as each one must work out his own salvation, yet we can aid and teach them to find the better way, and encourage them to persevere in their efforts to atone for the past by doing right.

In my anxiety and eagerness to atone for my own past folly by helping others, I had taken no heed of the lapse of time, my whole soul having been wrapped in my work.

I was at a seance in London one night, and had succeeded in gaining partial possession of a youth whom I wished to develop as a medium. While in this condition, unable to make my presence known, one of the party remarked: “We ought to have an exceptionably good seance tonight, as it is the last one of the year; tomorrow brings us 1872.” The words brought to me a vision of New Years’ Eves spent in the past, and with it a longing for the sight of dear and familiar faces. I began to grow home-sick and weary. Five years previous I passed from the body, and most of the intervening time I had spent among strangers. With this thought in my mind I found myself losing control of my subject, and in a moment I was away from material things, and out in the realm of spirit. Long before I had learned to travel by an effort of will as spirits do, and I could now upon desiring to be in any place instantly be there. Time and distance have no power over the ascended soul, and it can travel with the velocity of thought. In a moment I found myself in the magnificent garden I had before visited. All was blooming in richness and beauty. I entered the stately portals of a superb mansion, in the center of which a group of spirits were gathered in social converse. Judge of my delight in recognizing all who were dearest to me,—parents, kindred, and friends. As I entered I heard my mother say: “All day I have been calling Critchley. I am sure he must come, we all want him so much; he is doing a good work,—bless the lad,—but I would like to meet him here.”

My soul leaped forth in response to these words. I was immediately seen and recognized. It is impossible to describe the bliss and rapture of that meeting. None but those who have experienced can understand the like. The welcome more than recompensed me for past pain and sorrow. It brought an infinite peace and calm that the world can never take away. I remained with my friends for a time, but not idle; I had learned that true joy cannot reach the soul that is inert. Action is the law of life.

There was much for me to learn of spirit life and its laws, and I set myself to work to acquire knowledge, not forgetting to return frequently to earth to see if there was anything to do, nor neglecting to minister to the unfortunate spirits I met. At the present writing I have learned but little in comparison with what there is to attain, but with active powers, trained for work and study, assisted by wise, beneficent teachers, and surrounded by loving souls, it would be strange, indeed, if a spirit’s course should not be upward and onward toward the realms of infinite light and truth.

Engaged in the work I had chosen, I had no time for regrets. Retrospection became no longer a scourge, but a guide, which, by showing me wherein I had erred, pointed out the true way to amendment; and in striving to gain knowledge of the higher, better way of living,—the way of the spirit, bound to no avenue of sensual life, but seeking the intellectual haunts of wisdom and truth,—I found peace of mind, and, in seeking to bring happiness to others, I became truly happy myself.

Again I stood in the Temple of Art; again I found myself in the Poet’s Chamber, but no longer an outcast and an alien. Indeed, I was greeted as one whose coming was expected, and welcomed with a warm cordiality and royal fervor that was very refreshing to my soul.

The same kingly company was assembled, but augmented by a number of other souls, rich with their freight of poetic imagery. The assembly was not composed entirely of my own countrymen and women, as heretofore; for among that mighty throng could be seen the smiling, open, intelligent faces of Thomas Moore, the sweet singer of the Emerald Isle, and Robert Burns, he who found his best inspiration amid the rugged heights and heather-crowned hills of Scotia’s land. Many others were present, whom I failed to recognize, clad in the flowing robes and purple vestments of the Roman period, or in the classic garments of ancient Greece.

But England’s delegation was a large one, numbering those of every century and age: Pope and Spenser, Johnson, Cowley, and Butler, Dryden, Gay, Thomson, and Young,—not the sad, melancholy, pensive Edward Young of earth, but the radiant, calm, contented Edward Young of spirit life; gentle Henry Kirke White, liberty-loving Thomas Campbell, and stouthearted, staunch, and true Walter Scott, who, though not English born, yet seemed very near to me.

Addison, whom I had mentioned as occupying the seat of honor before, now sat low at the feet of him who occupied the position of the Master of Ceremonies, and whom I recognized as the true, loyal, long-suffering, yet monarch-crowned soul, Milton. At his right was to be seen the lofty brow, and bold, fearless, speaking countenance of William Shakespeare; while, at the left, Dryden seemed to be acting as assistant or secretary.

In my experience of spirit power and possibilities, I had learned to understand and interpret the waves of thought flowing from soul to soul; therefore I was at no loss to understand the purport and purposes of this convention. It was a gathering of kindred souls, met to communicate the loftiest thoughts and sweetest aspirations to each other, thus dispensing the bountiful gifts of the spirit to all who would partake.

I cannot describe to you the rich, ennobling thoughts, clothed in their draperies of sweetest imagery, which flowed from the soul of him who presided, into ours, the recipients’; nor the grandeur and sublimity of the ideas with which he threaded, like brands of shimmering pearls, the network of his discourse. But all was grand and glorious, beyond the power of mortals to conceive. At the close of his remarks, the company clustered into knots, discussing the discourse, comparing experiences, or revealing to each other the secret depths of their poetic souls, from which were to be drawn lines, glowing with the beauty and fragrance of harmonious lives.

It was then I discovered that every soul that is attuned into harmony with the inner life, that dwells in sympathy with the Divine Mind, as manifested in his outer creations of will, in his natural expressions of love and beauty, is in itself a poem of rare delicacy and power; a living, breathing, animated poem, thrilled with the magic power of thought, and stamped with the eternal glory of individualized liberty; that every poetic soul is itself the production of the Infinite Mind, that must make itself heard in lines of glowing, inspiring thought along the pathway of human toil and suffering, and cannot fail to arouse the hidden energies and sleeping possibilities of power of those it comes in _rapport_ with.

It was then I was made supremely blest by being taken by the hand by such souls as Cowper, Byron,—my boyhood’s ideal,—Burns, Scott, Campbell, Moore, Mrs. Browning, Felicia Hemans, and others, and welcomed to this haunt of the beautiful and the good. And I cannot convey to you my exquisite sense of pleasures when my hand was again grasped by that of my helper and friend, Robert B. Brough, and I was enabled to bless him for the avenues of tranquility and peace he had opened out to me. But I must not linger here, although sweet and pleasant to me are these reminiscences of actual life in the spheres.

Leaving the Poets’ Chamber, I visited in turn the Musicians’ Gallery, the Sculptors’ Hall, and the Artists’ Studio. It is impossible for mortal hands to pen a description of what is to be seen and heard in them. Words fail, and language grows cold and unmeaning before the splendid achievements of the upper world.

Imagine, if you can, all the sweetest sounds your soul has ever heard or dreamed of, blended into one harmonious whole, swelling louder, clearer, and sweeter, or melting away into the far-off distance, like the gentle fading of a glorious sunset, absorbed by a finer and more ethereal beauty of azure brightness, and you will have a faint conception of the music and the singing of the spheres.

Imagine, if you can, all the most graceful, beautifully-molded, perfectly-formed and rounded, exquisitely carved and delicately-sculptured forms of statuary, of which you have ever heard or read grouped together, forming a class of the rarest workmanship and art that human skill and genius can chisel from the marble block, and you have a slight idea of the superb expression of the sculptor’s soul which is perfected in the immortal world. Dream, if you can, of the most magnificent scenery the world affords, the most royal landscapes, the most superb water views, and you may be able to just approach in thought an idea of the productions of the artist’s soul that line the walls of the artists’ studio in spirit life.

Recollect all the sweet, the beautiful, and the various expressions of the human countenance,—the fire, the vigor, and sparkling triumph of the eye, the restless energy or quiet repose of the limbs, the smiling, speaking expression of the lips,—and you can faintly conceive the models and patterns that spirit artists and sculptors seek to emulate. And have they succeeded? To a certain extent, decidedly, yes.

Enter a hall of statuary, and in the marble beauties, grouped together there, you find the expression of peace, hope, or joy depicted with marvelous fidelity; you observe the contour of the limbs as perfect as in life, and all seemingly permeated with that indescribable something that gives them the appearance of having the power to move, act, and walk off at will.

Upon entering the artists’ studio, at the farther end of which is suspended a magnificent landscape painting, you would, at first sight, believe yourself to be gazing upon a scene of natural life and beauty. The lights and shadows seem to be continually shifting, the trees to be waving their branches, and the streamlet running along in murmuring gladness. The clouds appear to be settling slowly down upon the distant mountains, while it distinctly seems to you that the cattle, grazing in the meadows, are moving lazily along, half wearied out by the incessant buzzing of the hovering insects.

So it is with the music of the upper life. It approaches as near the harmonious, perfect blending of the various parts of the human voice as can be imagined; and the utterances of the poets partake of the life of the giver, and are animated with true fire and vigor, which is of itself a part of that Eternal Voice that is the author and sustainer of all life and being.

But these spirit artists are by no means satisfied with what they have produced; they see something grander, more beautiful, sublime, and perfect, which they are striving to attain. Their ideal is as yet unexpressed; but, with the perfect development of the soul and its possibilities, all that is ever dreamed of must find expression in the outworkings of the spirit.

But I have found that, with all its striving to emulate and express the workings of Nature, in its perfect form, that the soul of the true artist, poet, and songster finds its keenest delight in stamping its poems, paintings, and songs upon the receptive human mind that is ready to receive; that the true poet breathes his fiery inspirations upon the slumbering soul, awakening it to life and activity, bringing to it an enjoyment and appreciation of the beauties of the inner life, and of the splendors of natural creation; that the true artist paints in glowing colors on the sensitive souls of mortals a beautiful landscape of the higher life, which arouses those souls to a realizing sense of the beautiful, and develops within them an ideal, for which they will ever strive; that the true musician and singer sends his sweet strains echoing through the souls of mortals, developing their sweetest, noblest powers, to bless and enrich the musical world; and that the true sculptor finds his delight in molding and carving out the possibilities of those he can approach, of chiseling and chipping away all that is detrimental to the spirit’s growth, and bringing forth to light an angel of power and beauty from the rough, unpolished mass of individuality. In short, that the workers of the higher life do not find enjoyment in bringing their own productions to earth, but their highest blessing and privilege is in being able to impress, work upon, and guide the hidden, inner powers of souls in mortal forms until they develop the beauty and glory within them, and awaken their spirits to an understanding of beautiful life, an appreciation of the good and true, and a knowledge of the possibility of the power that is theirs.

Not alone were my visits confined to the Temple of Art; although attracted to that place by the laws of sympathy and association, yet my desire to gain knowledge and a comprehension of truth led me, in company with other inquiring minds, to visit the Spiritual Congress, and to pay marked attention to the learned and honorable body there assembled, and busily employed in devising various schemes for the enlightenment, amelioration, and welfare of humanity; to visit the Wisdom Circles, and receive enlightenment upon the laws governing life and its unfoldments; and to visit our medical colleges and learn of the true method, not of curing disease, but of preventing sickness and preserving health. And I tell you that humanity on earth have yet to learn more of medical and legal jurisprudence than has ever been dreamed of by mortals.

But I must draw this narrative to a close. I might go on multiplying my experiences almost _ad infinitum_ had I the time and space; but such has not been my object in coming. I have endeavored to show you how a spirit, weighed down by its consciousness of misspent days and misapplied powers and energies, bowed down by its load of past wrong-doing and follies, darkened by its work neglected, and duties unfulfilled, may be able, by the desire of his own soul, and the aid and sympathy of others, to rise out of his darkened condition into the light, to work his salvation from sin and his way to righteousness. But it was no easy task. I have not given you an account of all the fiery temptations that assailed me in my search for the better life, or the bitter struggles my soul passed through ere it became the master.

Through devious ways and tortuous paths the soul must pass that has done wrong to itself and others; but if it is in earnest in its desire to become better, if it craves strength and aid from the higher powers, if it reaches its aspirations out toward the better, purer, grander life of the spirit, be sure that it must and will succeed.

I can dimly perceive that away down in the distant future humanity is to broaden and develop into the perfect type of angelhood; that the divinest attributes of the soul are yet to govern and control the body; and ignorance, darkness, and crime flee before the dawning light of knowledge and wisdom; and that human life is to become illuminated with the glory of universal love and harmony.

I can believe that the “good time coming,” “the year of jubilee,” “the millennium,” so long foretold by prophet and seer, so often mentioned in song and story, the poet’s dream and the idealist’s fancy, is yet to dawn upon the awakened world; when man, become strong through the educators of love and sympathy, made wise by the acquirement of knowledge, and the recognition of truth, shall look upon all humans as his brothers and sisters, shall learn that war is a crime against the human family, and tyranny, injustice, and oppression sins against the Holy Ghost. Then shall mankind fraternize, and nations sit down in universal peace. I believe that the human form is yet to bear the stamp and impress of all that is lovely and divine.

I was with a friend at a convocation of spirits, where were gathered together a large throng of refined, intelligent beings, each one marked with a beauty all his or her own, and I amused myself by comparing the different individuals with the beautiful forms in nature which they reminded me of, and the resemblance—so to speak—was so apparent that I called my friend’s attention to it by remarking:

“Did you ever observe that there is a certain resemblance between humanity and the forms of Nature? For instance, yonder lady, with her pure, white face, daintily-carved features, and lithe, willowy form, reminds me of nothing but a stately garden-lily, shimmering with whiteness; and that laughing, rosy-cheeked sprite beside her, with her rounded form and well-developed features, is very like the royal blush-rose of summer.”

“Very true,” replied my friend; “and over there you note the speaker; does not his massive frame, well-proportioned limbs, lofty brow, and shining features remind you of some mighty bowlder, uprearing its head with a consciousness of might and grandeur?”

“He does, indeed; the shadow of a great rock in a weary land; and just beside him rests one whose tall, straight form, beneficent looks, and air of protectiveness calls to mind the forest tree with its ample provision of kindly shade and shelter.”

And so we went on, drawing our comparisons,—one, with her calm, benignant smile, and a wealth of love and sympathy welling up from her nature, and expressing itself in the depths of her shining eyes, we likened to the smiling, open sea, overflowing with its wealth, and watering and refreshing the earth. Another, who was bubbling over with a superabundance of merriment and joy, we likened to the laughing, gurgling streamlet that overleaps all bounds, and speeds merrily along its way. One, of majestic form, replete with vital force, with a look of concentrated determination in his face, and an expression of energetic power impressed upon him, reminded us of the ocean, mighty in its majesty and power. One shone like the sun, another sparkled like a sunbeam; one brought an air of refreshing coolness with her, another glowed and glimmered like the autumn days.

“The fact of it is,” said my friend, “all that there is good and beautiful in nature is personified and individualized, so to speak, in the higher types of humanity. All the richness and splendor of creation culminate their grandest expressions in the human form; and when spirituality has ripened and developed the soul, its outer tenement will become so harmonized with the natural life of creation, so blended with the external manifestations of God, that it will become permeated with His life, and will reflect all the beauty and fragrance, all the grace and symmetry, of His works. Do you understand?”

I did, but I know not that I make it plain to mortals; suffice it to say, that I believe the day is coming when each soul shall have grown so in harmony with the laws of life that it will reflect upon its outward form only the beautiful and the good.

I had not long returned to spirit life ere I again met my former friend and teacher, “Benja, the missionary.” The sage was engaged in his usual employment of aiding souls in need. The pleasure of our meeting was mutual, but cannot be expressed by mortal pen; it was of the soul, true and fervent, and shone in the speaking eye and upon the trembling lip. Since that time I have often sought the company of the sage, and always with profit to myself. He has been an invaluable guide to me in my search for knowledge, and has lifted my spirit into a pure atmosphere. Spirit life is full of such workers, and by their efforts, combined with the desires of sin-sick souls to become better, we look for the redemption of the human race from error.

And now, good friends, you, unto whom I have revealed a few of the most vitalizing experiences of my spiritual life, I feel that I must draw these papers to a close, and, taking each one of you spiritually by the hand, bid you go on with your efforts in self-culture and advancement; and God speed you forward in your work for your own souls and for humanity.

Again I say, it is impossible for me to convey to you anything more than a mere outline of the inner experience of the spirit; each one of you must undergo the process for yourselves ere you can realize how intense in thought and feeling, and how thoroughly quickened into life, are all the sensations of spiritual existence. In fact, spirit is all thought, all sense, and it is as impossible to escape from ourselves, and the consequences of our lives, as it is to exist without the ordinary mode of respiration.

Hence, let me entreat you to endeavor constantly and earnestly to so live that only the reflection of a pure life shall cast itself over your spirit; that only the recollection of good accomplished and evil resisted shall visit your soul when you have attained the immortal heights of the other world.

But, ere I close, I feel that I must say a word in regard to the cause that lies nearest my heart. Interested as I am, and must be, in all movements of reform, all methods of advancement calculated to ameliorate the condition of humanity, and eager as I am to see the race moving along upon a higher, purer, more spiritualized plane of life, yet my soul’s best endeavors must be employed in the temperance cause. As one who has sinned and suffered, as one who has experienced the agony and the vicissitudes of intemperance, I feel it my duty to hang out a warning flag to others that shall be a signal of danger to those who look that way.

Sad, aye, too, too sad it is that, while women weep and children wail because of the misery entailed upon them, spirit life is crowded with souls that have passed out from earth with the taint of intemperance defiling their persons and dragging them downward. No wonder, then, that the angels weep in pity; no wonder that noble souls come thronging back, pleading with you to seek for good, to resist evil, and to uplift your head above the haunts of wrong and wickedness.

How long, aye, how long shall this state of things continue to exist? When shall the morning dawn that shall usher in a new day, a day of universal temperance and purity on earth? When shall the darkness break, and a new era of light, of knowledge and wisdom, come flooding in upon us? Not until man shall study the laws of his own being, and, so studying, learn to live in harmony with those laws. Not until every man and every woman becomes a physiologist, understanding the structure and composition of his or her own organism, and learning of that wisdom which says: “Partake of nothing but what assimilates with the component parts of your body, or satisfies the natural demands of nature.” Not until men and women study the law of heredity, of transmission, which teaches that whatever trait of character, whatever peculiarity of disposition, whatever fatal appetite or habit the parents possess, is transmitted to their offspring, either in a modified or aggravated degree, and is sure to crop out somewhere and at some time in one form or another. Not until humanity, learning these truths, live up to them in obedience to all their requirements will the day of universal happiness, peace, and purity dawn upon earth.

I am rejoiced to find that a public sentiment is being created in regard to this subject,—a public sentiment that is felt throughout the length and breadth of nations,—a sentiment in favor of suppressing the manufacture and sale of alcoholic liquors, and of seeking to elevate and promote the cause of temperance, at all times and in all places. It has crept into the churches, and now the clergy dare utter sentiments in its favor; it makes itself heard in the street, and upon the rostrum; it enters our legislative halls, and demands a hearing; and it has formed organizations, the power and influence of which are felt everywhere. So much for the cause of temperance; and, encouraged by public sentiment, it must and shall prosper, and eventually triumph. A public sentiment in its favor must continue to grow until the manufacture and sale of alcohol as a beverage will be universally admitted to be a crime against humanity; no man who cares for the opinion of his fellows (and what man does not?) dare to engage in the business, and intemperance be so generally looked upon as an evil that no man will or woman will raise the wine-cup to his or her lips. That time must come, and may God and angels hasten the day.

Now, a few closing words to those unfortunates who are addicted to the habit of intemperance: my whole soul goes out to you in sympathy, and, were it possible, I would lift you all upon a platform of mental strength and moral integrity. I do not condemn, I pity; I dare not censure, I sympathize. From my own experience I know the road you have to travel, and, if I could, I would enfold you in that divine strength that would enable you to crush the serpent under your feet. Let me implore you, out of the deep compassion of my soul, to endeavor, with all your determined will-power and firmness, to throw off the fatal habit that binds you; to become free beings, slaves of no appetite nor passion; to crush them down and assert your manhood. Thus, with the love and aid of the angels, you will become pure, and worthy of their companionship. Go on, and heaven bless you in your efforts for selfredemption.

And now, good friends, adieu. May the angels of love and harmony, of purity and peace, abide with you always, fitting your lives for a habitation of light, and an experience of joy in the spirit world.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.