Chapter IX: Part 9

When Magdalene realized what had taken place she began weeping, and crying, "Glory to God." Then, as though recalling sad scenes, she cried, "Oh, God, forgive that miserable old high priest, Caiaphas--Oh, God, forgive all their murderous acts, for it was a blessing in disguise."

She could not walk or stand upon her feet. Soon she swooned, and was carried back as one dead to the brow of Olive's mountain.

MAGDALENE HERSELF AGAIN

When restored to consciousness she looked wonderingly about her, and then smiling in her bright, girlish way, said to John, "When, where and how did I die?"

When told she had not died she inquired: "Was I alive when Jesus came to me?" and being told she was, she continued, "He says tell the disciples to meet him in Galilee, and that I must see Ruth before I come to him; and tell her all about this--is she here? Oh no; what a goose I am; she is at home, way up in Galilee--way up in Galilee," she repeated, and then, kissing the hand of the mother, she smilingly said, "Oh, Aunty, do you think little birds will sing next summer, when I am gone, as they did when Ruth and I were little girls, we never thinking that we must some day part?" Then for a moment a bewildered look seemed to control her, when, brightly smiling again through her tears, she said: "Oh, how silly I am; soon we will live together again; what is this brief span of life, compared to an endless eternity? Tell me, Aunt Mary, did you see Jesus?"

"No, Magdalene, I did not."

"Why, he looked and spake just exactly as when he chided me ten years ago."

"Oh, dear me, just look at old Peter and the other men back there, weeping enough to break their necks because they think I am dying. Say, Peter, come here and tell me what you are weeping for."

"Because you look so heavenly."

"Did you think I looked heavenly when you used to peddle fish?"

"Yes, Magdalene, you looked sweet then, but you was so confounded mean."

She hesitated, and then said, "Why, Peter?"

"Well, Magdalene, you led me right into it, just as you do everyone you talk with."

Magdalene looked on poor Peter, who seemed to wilt and fade under the smiling searchlight of the now happy Jewess.

"John," she said quite firmly, "please relieve Aunt Mary by holding me in your arms while I talk."

When he had taken her she looked in his face and laughingly said, "Queer, isn't it, John? Once you wanted to love me and I would not let you, now I want you to love me and you will not."

John choked and sobbed and finally said, "I do love you, Magdalene; we all love you; the angels love you, and that is why they are waiting to take you home."

A sweet smile lingered on the swooning beauty's face while John gently passed his hand over her auburn waves, which seemed to awake her again, and she said, "Peter, where do you think Jesus is now?"

"I do not know, Magdalene, I am all at sea."

"Peter, he may be right here now and knowing all that we are thinking."

Peter dropped his jaw. Joseph craned his long neck, while Nicodemus, the disciples and bystanders all leaned forward, to catch, if possible, from the angel face the last gleam which might swing the gates of death ajar.

"I know," she continued, "for I have been talking with him."

At this they all drew near, when she said, "His death upon the cross was natural, simply the separation of himself from his body."

"Has he gone up to heaven, from whence he came?" inquired Joseph.

"Why, Joseph, you are worse than Peter; do you think heaven is up above the moon?"

"Magdalene, you know what Jesus said when alive--"

"When alive, Joseph; he is alive now and possibly hears every word you say."

"Be that as it may, Magdalene; he has said from the beginning, 'I came down from heaven.'"

Magdalene scowled, and with a painful effort bit her lip as she tried to form a convincing sentence, and then began: "Down in a well and up on a hill are material positions, while down in hell and up in heaven are spiritual conditions."

"Think of Jesus as living in a purely spiritual condition and volunteering to take on humanity and live with us as animals. In that he came down from on high to that low, hellish animal, condition of last Friday. And, Joseph, when you thought you were laying Jesus in your tomb, he was not necessarily there. I know that I was face to face with Jesus, and there are no scars on his hands or thorns in his brow."

Nicodemus, kneeling beside her, said: "I know you're weary, but can you answer this--If Jesus was not in his body when he spoke your name, how did you hear his voice?"

Her ready reply was: "You are not an apt scholar. Do you remember when you came to Jesus by night, in Bethany, and he explained how one could be born again? And now you're asking me if a body can talk. I do not know how to answer you; I know not the secret of animal existence, and much less that of spiritual life; but this much I do know, that sound and sight both create impressions. One is silent, the other is not, yet they are equally distinct. Will power, thought, joy, sorrow, truth are all noiseless, yet real, so why not suppose all spiritual life be the same. At the tomb he impressed me that I must see the disciples and see Ruth before I came home to him. I cannot explain how it was, but I am sure that Jesus was not in the body, and I do not know as I was."

As she closed her eyes the grizzly counsellor bowed and kissed the tips of her cold fingers, then one by one the listeners drew nearer in silence, but she awoke again.

RUTH COMES TO MEET MAGDALENE

When Joseph learned that Magdalene wished to see Ruth he started a courier on a fleet beast, with orders to take four relays and make sure to reach Nazareth before sunset.

When they arrived at Nazareth they found all in commotion, for the report had come that Jesus had raised from the dead; that Mary Magdalene was dying and had called for Ruth to come to Jerusalem.

Jerome, the tanner, made ready his fleet mule for Ruth, while the men mounted brisk horses, and soon Ruth, Jude and the guide hastened down the narrow streets into the open plain and were off on their lone journey.

As the moon came up from the Sea of Galilee three lone riders silently sped over the Esdraelon plain, with the fleet little mule on which Ruth was riding in the lead. Near the renowned city of Nain the guide took the lead, speeding past Endor, through Shunan and over the Jezreel plain, while not one word was spoken to break the sad silence of poor Ruth, whose ashy, tearless face betokened consciousness of approaching gloom.

Changing horses at Dothan, they continued on through Samaria, past Jacob's well, and near sunset turned into the gorge called Eden's vale, where they saw in the distance a group kneeling in the shadows beneath a clump of olive trees.

JOSEPH'S LAST INTERVIEW

After Joseph had started the courier to Nazareth he provided a litter with four stalwart men and four relays to carry Magdalene, if possible, to meet Ruth. He also sent several camels for Mary the mother of Jesus, and the other women, with an animal each for Nicodemus and John, and four beasts of burden with attending servants, while the disciples, on foot, followed the train.

Magdalene, although unable to retain food or stimulants, could talk with apparent ease, and when informed that Joseph dispatched a courier for Ruth to come and meet her she said to Joseph, with a roguish twinkle in her eye, "If you were not so awfully old and I was not so very near the Golden Gate your proposal would certainly receive deep consideration," to which Joseph continued the joke by saying, "But I have one wife, you know."

"Oh, yes, Joseph, I know your faithful wife; and does she scold you as much as you deserve? I hope she does, for men are so stupid they need correcting very often. And Joe, are you kind to Hulda, the mother of your children, and the sweetest dame in Arimathaea, the one who walked by your side all these years and allowed no one to speak despairingly of you? You would not allow yourself to love another, were she ever so young and pretty, would you?"

"Oh, no--no, Magdalene; but tell me, before we part, how you can be so cheerful, even blithe, in the face of death?"

"Joseph, you, a counsellor, a man of experience, a ruler among the Jews, ask me to explain that which the children, the song birds of the morning and the wild gazelle of the plains act out at every turn. They live in the present, while we live in the past, present and apparent future. If you knew the future you would not be content to stay. God, in his wisdom, has drawn the veil of uncertainty between his loved people and their higher life, but now he has withdrawn that veil from me. Yesterday, when I supposed Jesus was dead, I feared, I wondered, I shrank; today I am glad, my soul is filled with glory and I am impatiently waiting the call; now, do you understand?"

"Because you know that Jesus lives?"

"Yes, Joseph. All through life I knew Jesus as he appeared; now I know him as he is; yesterday the dark unknown; today beautiful, beautiful life."

"One more question, Magdalene, before we part; Jesus has gone home and you are determined to follow; now will his disciples be able to take up the work where the master has laid it down?"

"Oh, I do not know; as yet, you see, they are such a set of cowards. Here is my John, whose affection controls his will power; then there is Peter, whose cranium is like a cocoanut shell, so thick that nothing can get in and what he knows cannot get out; still, Peter is brave, he will win at last, he will surely die at his post if necessary. Poor Judas Iscariot, already in hell before he died. Thomas has not so much faith as a grain of mustard seed; Philip, like many, is so weak in the upper story that he actually thinks he understands the whole plan of salvation. The others, with one exception, are not striking characters, and yet they would, every one, fight to the end for the cause of Jesus if they understood him as I do. Oh, that Jesus would manifest himself to them as he has to me.

"I do not know what will come next; I simply know that this tragedy is the beginning, and not the end. God cannot be baffled; Jesus has sown the seed of individual purity, which will spring up somewhere at some time. If the Jews discover their error and accept him as the Christ, they will become the spiritual leaders of the world, but if they reject him the world will reject them and the terrific blow will scatter them far and wide. But they will turn back; it may be thousands of years, but they will turn back. Abraham will not forget his children; Moses yet lives and he will lead them home. The Gentiles will cease to persecute and all will be lambs of one fold. Good-bye, Joseph, you've done all you could and we will meet again tomorrow, just tomorrow, Joseph; we will all arrive home."

MAGDALENE'S LAST NIGHT WITH JOHN

Gentle hands carried Magdalene's wasted form over the Judean hills, camping for the night near Bethel. She, being troubled for breath, chose to rest on a litter beneath a wide, spreading olive tree rather than accept the hospitality of the large tent Joseph had sent for them.

After the usual nursing, and she had been bolstered up with huge cushions, she was able to talk, and again became buoyant.

Nicodemus, Mary and John each volunteered to sit by her side, but she chose John, saying: "Aunt Mary, you must rest or we shall be compelled to procure an ambulance for you; and you, Nicodemus, look as pale as a ghost; you go and get a little rest also, for tomorrow will be an eventful day. As for you, John, I want you to prop yourself up and hold my hands all night, then I will think we are children again."

After an hour's rest she opened wide her large, hazel eyes and laughingly said, "Tell me, John, exactly what you were thinking about."

John hesitated.

"Spit it out, John; if it's funny all the better, for all the sadness about this scene is that you must stay to fight the world after I have gone home."

"Well, Lena, I was thinking about the first time we met."

"Yes, John, so was I, we were twelve years old; I know exactly what you want to tell; it's about my refusal before your proposal; now go ahead."

"You remember," began John seriously, "that we first met at the yearly fish-fry which was always on the south shore of Galilee. Oh, Magdalene, you tell it; I cannot."

"Go right on," she said, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Well, your aunt and my mother were great friends, you know, and that was what brought us young ones together while eating our fish. I can see you just as you was then; you had on a new wine-colored gown, silk stockings, tiny sandals and your hair was loose over your shoulders. You remember, mother fixed me up smart; being tall, I really looked more than I was, so we made it up to sly away from the common young hopefuls and go strolling down the river, where, after while, we sat down on the bank to watch the little fish who live in shore, and you began--"

"No, you began--"

"No, you began, Lena."

"Well, have it your way, John; go on."

"You, Lena, began to talk about--you see, I did not know you then as I do now."

"Go right on, John, or I shall have a kaniption."

"Yes, you began to talk about people getting married young, very young, and sometimes, when there were objections, people ran away together. Then we told our ages, and it turned out that you were one day older than I, when you sprang to your feet and said: 'There, John, the jig is up, for I positively will not marry a man younger than myself!'"

"And you began to cry."

"No, Lena, I did not."

"What did you do?"

"Oh, not much."

"Much; you dared me to--"

"No, you dared me."

"No, you dared me, John."

"Now, Lena, you dared me to kiss you and I did."

"Then I suppose you went right home and told your mother."

"Told mother; I should say not. You made me promise never to tell. Why, Lena, are you in pain?"

"Only my heart, John--Oh, if Ruth was here."

The frail creature half closed her eyes, her lips parted, and John thought she was going, but when he called Nicodemus she opened them again and smiled and told Nicodemus to go to his rest.

After a few moments she seemed to come back again and said, "Oh, John, is Heaven really so near?" Then she seemed to become a child again, and said, "Tell me something inspiring; it rests me. Do not weep, John; you promised to be brave; now go on and tell me about Pipe and his dog. Tell it just as though you were telling it to someone else and I was not listening."

John hesitated, wiped away the tears, kissed her cold cheek and when she insisted, began, "Mary Magdalene came over from Nazareth when she was twelve years old, and by the time she was fifteen she had become the most notorious maid that graced the west shore of Galilee. She had staunch friends, who would go through fire and water to protect her--"

"And you were one?"

"Certainly I was, for she was pretty, neat, witty and wonderful in a case of emergency. She made some enemies; for while nothing was too good for those she loved, so there was no letup on her dislikes."

"Why did so many hate her, John?"

"Oh, she was well dressed and attractive, which was more than her female companions could stand; and then, while she was upright and generous, she was reserved and often imprudent, to that extent that when irritated she bridled not her tongue."

"Not even for you?"

"Oh, I was an exception."

"So you were, John; go on."

"Old Pipe the potter had, besides a large family of children, a white pet dog, and for a joke this maid from Nazareth formed a compact with one John, the brother of James--"

"Where is that John now?"

"Keep quiet, Lena, or you will get me to weeping again and spoil the story. She and John caught the dog and hid him in the cellar of John's home, and a day or so after Magdalene started a rumor that she had seen something white floating in the lake, south of Tiberias, which looked like that dog. Old Pipe at once accused her of stealing and drowning his dog, but after an all day, fruitless search, she and John loosed the dog and sent him home. Somehow the joke got out, and old Pipe rent his garments and swore vengeance on the Sidehill Whirlwind. On the street, one day, he began to upbraid her, when she turned upon him with something she had heard her Aunt Susie tell about his family affairs which closed him up like a clam--had you not better rest again, Lena?"

"No, John, go on; I'm in no pain, only those spells of suffocation. I want you to tell this so you will remember I love you when I am gone."

Nicodemus now appeared with his cup, which revived her, and John continued, "When our Fall Gaily Day came on all the country around flocked to the Lake to see the fun; Jesus, James and Ruth came over from Nazareth."

"Yes, I remember; they stayed with Aunty and me, and Ruth stayed a week or more."

"Well, there were all kinds of sports and games, foot and horse racing, singing, dancing, etc., and then such a dinner as we had.

"Everybody wanted to see Magdalene run, and the best that could be done was to match the Sidehill Whirlwind with one of the Mur girls, a fleety family who lived on the hills in Safed. The Whirlwind gave the Mur girl twenty paces the start in a two hundred pace race, but she told her aunt and John's mother she feared Miss Mur had too great an advantage for her to ever overtake her.

"When the race was called and the word given, John remembers just how Lena looked, with her head thrown back, coming down the line just like a shooting star, when old Zerna, the fig peddler, attempted to cross the way and Magdalene's knee collided with the side of her head. The old woman spun around and around like a top as Magdalene fell on her hands and knees, but recovered in time to win."

"Did she win fair?"

"Oh, I guess it was about a draw, for the timekeeper told John's father the next day that he rather favored the Whirlwind because the old fig woman got in her way.

"When the boat race was coming off the men gathered south along the shore to get a better view of the maneuvers, while the women and children stood on the landings at Capernaum. John, Mary Magdalene and several other young folks had climbed to the roof of a house when they heard the cry that old Pipe's child had fallen into the water and was drowning. A cry went up for a fisherman to save the child, but all the men were down toward Tiberias.

"When our group from the housetop arrived we could see the little boy's white garments at the bottom, under two fathoms of water. Instantly, Mary Magdalene plunged down head foremost and brought the little one up in her arms, and as no one could reach it she somehow held it out of the water and swam to the little sand beach just south of Capernaum. Old Pipe arrived on the scene just as she was wading ashore with the child and, falling on his knees, began imploring her to forgive him for all he had injured her, but instead she handed him the struggling child as she indignantly said: 'Take your little brat, it is not to blame for having a contemptible father.'

"After a change to dry clothes the naughty maid hunted up old Pipe and forgave him all, so that was how they became fast friends, and she, of course, became the heroine of the day."

Thus, the last night of her life, Magdalene listened to reminiscences of naughty pranks and sweet affections of childhood's sunny hours.

LAST GOOD-BYE

At sunrise, after assuring Magdalene that Ruth was on the way from Nazareth, the little group took up their weary journey, moving north until they descended into a deep valley where a clear stream from the hills meanders through the woody dell which was called by the patriarchs, Eden's Vale.

Here Magdalene implored them to stay and bathe her parched lips and fevered brow in the cool waters from the hills of Shiloh. Soon she fell into a doze from whence she, at intervals, would awake and call for John, and inquire if Ruth was near. So the day wore on, her breathing growing more faint. Twice she ceased to breathe, then came back again and smiled.

Lastly she opened wide her eyes, pressed John's hand to her lips, then softly settled back in silence, just as two dusty riders came around the bend, at once recognized as Ruth and Jude.

Ruth swung from her horse and ran to where she could see her; then, thinking she was dead, moved softly forward, and kneeling by her side kissed her lips, at which she came back, opened her eyes and smiled.

"Lena, oh Lena, my dear, what can I do to save your life."

"Ruth, darling Ruth, I have lingered all the day to love you once more and tell you I am not dying. Just going home, where I will love you still, and when the evening shadows fall and you go wandering into the grove think of me as with you. Oh, Ruth, I will come so near that you will feel my presence in your soul. My darling girl, banish every thought of death and bare your bosom to the storms of life until the angel comes to call you home. Oh, sister dear, if you could only know my feelings now, in this strange scene that you call death. The sting of all life's troubles are more than repaid in these passing moments of tranquil bliss, and yet some scenes have been so sad. I pleaded with all my soul before Caiaphas, but his heart was hardened; they went their way. They nailed him to the cross and then the sun grew dim and the world became cold. But while I waited at the tomb a form appeared, and it was Jesus, who told me that your faith was weak and I must comfort you now, as you had me in days gone by."

"Did Jesus speak to you after he was dead?"

"Oh, Ruth, you thoughtless child, banish the idea of death. He is not dead. They killed his body, but the body is just the mask; that is why great souls are unknown on earth. Jesus still lives. I cannot tell if he spoke or not, or how he appeared or disappeared, but the word, 'Mary,' sounded just as he always spoke, and I saw him as distinctly as I see you now. His attitude and movement were such that I supposed he had come to life until he disappeared. The body is not the person, Ruth. It is the form that we wear; it is ever dying, dying while the unseen yet lives. Love me, sweet, dear Ruth, and let me go. John, come; kiss me and say you will never cease to love. Dear ones, you must not weep when I am gone. Think of me as living, as one who can still commune, influence, comfort and help you when mystery darkens all your ways."

Softly the fading flower swooned away, her lips parting and eyes closing; then, strangely, a shadowy movement brightened her face and a little flush came to her cheeks; while John and Ruth, in silence, awaited the death angel.

Three days' journey brought the mourners to the hillside city of Nazareth, where Magdalene had so often shocked the sanctimonious with her naughty pranks.

The tide had turned, harsh criticism had changed to love, as from Nazareth, Endor, Nain and Cana, together with the throng from the west shore, they sadly approached the hillside home of Aunt Susanna, where, near the close of day, in the old garden, they laid to sleep the form of Mary Magdalene.

Here, when the tourist visits the ruins of Capernaum, where Jesus met rebuff, they mention with pride Peter in prison, Paul before Agrippa and John on the Isle of Patmos, while they never mention the heroic maid to whom the Gate Beautiful first swung ajar.

THE PRICKETT HOME

Goshen, Ind., May 18, 1902.

My dear M. A.: I will now reply to yours, received a few days ago. Yes, I hope our wedding day will be bright and sunny, and that sunshine and affection may be with us as we journey together.

I have never seen a mountain, and if I appear green to your people when we reach Connecticut, you must excuse me.

I am feeling somewhat depressed this evening, for my sister Minerva and I have been over to Solomon's Creek today, visiting our old home on the farm.

The enclosed is a picture of our old home, gotten up of late, but it represents us children as we were years ago when we were all at home.

Now mother and James are gone to their long home; father is married again; the farm is sold, but still it seems like home.

In imagination we were children again; Mahala, Minerva and I. We were romping in the pastures, woods and fields; climbing pear trees, gathering grapes, currants and cherries; and I told Minerva that I could almost hear Jeff and the other boys laughing at us when the naughty buck sheep chased us onto the haystack, our only safe retreat.

The old maple trees, from which we made sugar, are there and many of the other trees, old fences and the like look natural. We talked of how our brothers used to fit us out with hooks and bait to go fishing in the creek, where our anticipation far exceeded our realization; that is, as far as fish were concerned, but really, we did sometimes get a bite.

FATHER AND MOTHER, JEFFERSON, JAMES, WILLIAM AND GEORGE, MINERVA, MARY AND MAHALA.]

We talked of how father always brought the minister home to dinner Sunday, and how mother had to fly around waiting on them.

All these old times seem to come back to us in a sort of day dream, as this evening Minerva, Cash and I are in their beautiful home here in Goshen. You and I will soon be in ours in Oak Park. I know we shall enjoy ourselves in the home which you are building for us, which we went out to see.

I wish I might talk with you instead of writing. Shall anxiously await your reply.

Good-night,

Your Mary.

OURSELVES

We are strange beings; our journey through life is a wonderful career. Through unfolding years of childhood, later literary pursuits and life experience, we hasten forward, aspiring to reach our day-dream fancies.

When about forty we seem to rest, reflect and soliloquize: "Who am I; what am I; where from; where bound; why do I enjoy, and why do I weep? How all these unseen emotions if my feelings are not controlled by an invisible person who knows, thinks and dictates?"

Reason and science teach that we are complex beings, living on the outside of a world which holds us from falling off by a force called gravity.

Our abode, our home world, is so far from other worlds that we have no communication with their inhabitants. In fact, we do not know that other worlds are inhabited by beings standing around on their hind legs like ourselves. We simply know that our world is voyaging among millions of other worlds, which, at certain periods of their life-day, must resemble the condition of our world today, for their elements and movements are similar to ours.

Apparently the entire material universe, of which our bodies form a part, is actuated by an invisible force of push. Everything is moving on, giving place and taking place, cohesion followed by dissolution.

The velocity of this continued material movement is governed by conditions. On one hand the mountains, or earth's age wrinkles, rise so slowly that the changes of thousands of years may be imperceptible, while, on the other, the velocity of the molecular forces astound us, for we are taught that the electrons in our own bodies, and all other material substance, are continually darting around the corners of the atoms at the rapidity of more than one hundred thousand miles per second. This statement seems incredible, except when we consider telegraphy. In that, even if vibration is assumed, something travels over the entire distance; or, something awakes something else, which, in turn, arouses the next over the entire course. This astounding proof encourages us in our faith in infinity and God.

Truly, death does not end the commotion, for, when we bury our dead the molecules begin escaping up through the gravel to gain their freedom, and it may require thousands of years or but a few seconds; in the end all have flown away into the sweet, pure atmosphere, and the form has disappeared.

This strange inquiry does not end with the study of the physical system, for, as stated, we find we are possessed by something invisible, and yet personal, to ourselves. That which loves, approves, decides, reasons, knows right from wrong and wills to do. This self-evident, mysterious thing we may be allowed to designate as self, or soul.

WILLIAM JAMES, OF HARVARD

For information concerning these mysteries we turn to public instructors of our country and Europe, and find that the higher branches of education are controlled by men who teach that man has no soul, or invisible guide. What we call soul action is nothing more than reflex action from brain compound, aroused by external stimuli.

A sample of these teachings can be found in the works of William James, Professor of Psychology in Harvard University of Cambridge, Mass., from where agnostic youths return home from college to sympathize with father and mother, who are so old-fashioned and ignorant as to actually believe they have a soul to save.

In James' works, of about 1400 pages, issued in 1902, which are considered standard in Europe and the United States, we find, Volume 1, Page 348:

"The soul, however, when carefully scrutinized, guarantees no immortality; therefore I feel perfectly free to discard the word soul from the rest of my books. The reader who finds any comfort in the idea of the soul is, however, perfectly free to continue to believe in it."

Volume 2, Page 572: "My own belief is that the question of free will is insoluble."

Page 576: "We can, therefore, leave the free will question out of our account."

Page 108: "The entire nervous system is nothing but a system of paths between a sensory terminous and a muscular glandular."

Page 179: "Every individual cell has its own consciousness, which no other cell knows anything about."

Page 291: "A man's self is the sum total of all that he can call his, not only his body, but his clothes."

Page 296: "Self, not personality, unity or pure ego."

Page 339: "Each pulse of cognitive consciousness, each thought dies away or is replaced."

Page 401: "Thought itself is a thinker."

Page 554: "Let us try as we will to express this cerebral activity in exclusive mechanical terms. I, for one, find it quite impossible--the soul presents nothing herself; and creates nothing."

Page 656: "The retention of the experience (memory) is nothing more or less than the brain paths which associate the experience with the occasion and the recall."

Volume 2, Page 487: "The only ends that follow immediately upon our willing seem to be the movement of our bodies."

Page 495: "Why any state of consciousness should precede a movement we do not know."

Volume 1, Page 64: "The highest centers do probably contain nothing but arrangements for representing impressions and movements, and other arrangements for coupling the activities of these arrangements, which in turn excite others, until at last a motor discharge occurs."

Page 29: "Can we tell precisely in what the feelings of the central active self consists? When I forsake general principles and grapple with particular it is difficult for me to detect any pure spiritual elements at all."

Page 107: "The currents, once in, must find their way out. In getting out they leave their track. The only thing they can do, in short, is to deepen old paths or make new ones, and the whole plasticity of the brain sums itself up in two words, when we call the brain an organ in which currents passing in from the sense organs make paths which do not easily disappear."

The reader will here observe that James refers to motor discharges and brain paths as though he actually believed, or that there was evidence, that such things existed.

All through his works he quotes freely from agnostic and atheistic authors who have been attacking religion for about three hundred years, from which I will copy samples:

_Spinoza_: "Extension is invisible thought, thought is invisible extension. Man is not free-willed--God neither thinks nor creates."

_John Locke_: "Whatever any man may know, or reasonably believe in, or even conceive, is dependent on human experience."

_David Hume_: "Ideas are but weakened copies of impressions."

_Herbert Spencer_: "No idea or feeling arises save as the result of some physical force expended in producing it."

The teachings of this school of instructors are peculiar, inasmuch as no such ambiguity concerning reason or will power has heretofore been taught at large or sanctioned by any class of instructors in the history of our world. The attempt to shelter under the wing of the ancient Greeks is plainly a misconstruction, for the wise Greek bowed in wonder before unknown cause.

_Pythagoras_, 582 B. C., used as the base of his arguments transmigration of the soul. One of his expressions was: "The soul is a harmony chained to the body."

_Socrates_: "Design proves that existence is God."

_Aristotle_: "Thinking or thought is God Theology--Soul always thinking is immortal."

Thus I might quote from deep thinkers from Zoroaster down to our times. If one feels disposed to study the works of those self-styled liberal exponders from Spinoza to James, they will find their arguments running essentially in the same groove, virtually this: Animals, including men, are not possessed by an invisible guide. That something which discerns between right and wrong and dictates to the body whether it should follow the path of desire or virtue, they absolutely ignore. Because they cannot comprehend the mysteries of the soul, they dwell upon and cling to tangible material effects, actually assuming effect without cause. They disallow that the good Samaritan and the Levite had exactly the same exterior stimuli. They are like the woman at Jacob's well, who could comprehend the well and mountain, but could not comprehend the invisible spring. She awoke when told how her secrets were known, but they awake not, as the result of intention.

James makes a feeble attempt to prove that matter thinks when he says: "Every individual cell has its own consciousness, which no other cell knows anything about--associated by brain paths."

What profound reasoning; think of it. Betts tells us that there are three thousand million cells, or neurons, in an adult nervous system; then think of the paths leading from one cell to the other. We learn that light, or electricity, would travel around our world eight times in one second; I wonder, if at the same rate of speed, how long it would take an exterior stimulus to cover the distance over one of his brain paths, from cell to cell.

"Oh," but one says, "Richardson, you do not understand James." Allowed, but if a man of my experience does not understand materialism, how is a youth of twenty years expected to understand it?

Man cannot explain memory, but he knows it is the principle in the ego, or soul. To illustrate: In a crowd I overhear a voice. I say to the talker, "I recognize your voice, but I cannot place you." "Think again," he says. Now, I start back over life's trail, listening to voices, one-two-twenty-forty years, then I say, "your name is Edwin Pease." "Yes," he says, "we were boys together fifty years ago."

Did this familiar voice, the true External Stimulus, awaken something which existed, or did it create something in my brain?

James calls this a motor discharge, which we will admit, but he wavers when he says, "Why any state of consciousness should precede a movement we do not know." Then he adds, "The soul presents nothing herself and creates nothing."

Exterior Stimuli, he assumes, awakens the sinews, which in turn cause the body to act. Do not External Stimuli cause the vegetable to act! Go set your little geranium in the south window and see how soon it turns its pretty face to the sun. These acts may receive their origin in the law of inclination, permitted but not emitted, while every act of a sane animal is an exhibition of intention. Exterior Stimuli are individual causes. Intentional response is of invisible individual origin. Reflex action would be nothing but continued Exterior Stimuli.

The invisible actor is the man; see him out on the wings of the soul in the far away Eternity, weighing the stars, predicting their course, calculating their velocity and testing their elements.

See our Edison bottling up the lightning's wild vim and causing it, in its attempt to regain liberty, to serve man silently and safely. Would the Stimuli which cause Edison to invent cause any other man of the same experience and education to evolve the same results? Answer yes, and you expose your weakness. Answer no, and you establish the mysterious, invisible thinking soul.

Materialism is an educational attempt to compel the religious world to prove that which they do not profess to comprehend. Knowledge is the accumulation of past earthly experience. Send a weakling through college and he has obtained knowledge, but he is the same simple Simon.

Wisdom is innate; it consists of individual ability to comprehend. It is peculiar to each self, and cannot be obtained through experience or education.

According to James, self is the body, clothes and surroundings. According to Genesis it is the image of God. Is God an animal? Jesus said to the Samaritan woman: "God is spirit." Is Jesus authority? Man's body, wealth and surroundings are not even his, they are simply under his control for a season. Self is that strange quality which designates one person from another. Memory and self are closely connected. It may be that the soul possesses memory of experience in other worlds, which, like all absent memory, awaits recall.

Sleep represents a mysterious condition of the soul. When the veil of consciousness begins to vanish one enters a sphere which is not controlled by reason, but rather by emotion; which, in dreaming, is often very intense and dictates wildly.

The lower animals are possessed of a soul, but if they have a sense of right and wrong it is undeveloped, in fact, the connecting link between man and beast may be consciousness of wrong.

Faith is an easy couch on which to repose; as a bridge it spans dark rivers of uncertainty, but it requires no faith to believe in the soul.

Even Spinoza must have observed that desire, reason and conscience are under the control of a distant power which can brush them all aside and go on its way, but it does not control memory.

Unconsciousness, whether in sleep or in death, ought not to frighten us. If in sleep it does not impair memory, it does not in death, as they are both simply the veil which shuts off our view.

In short, the soul appears through the body as its organ, giving us a view of its wonder through the flashlight of sensibility, one view at a time and no more.

In some mysterious, incomprehensible way the past travels with the present. Memory, anticipation and dreams are often far more real than when face to face with animal activity.

We cannot comprehend first cause; result is our only guide, but we dimly comprehend the apparent steps from the mineral to the spiritual.

Mineral life is inspiring in that it represents the star-lit Eternity into which we gaze in wonder and contemplate the incessant transformation.

Vegetable life creeps softly after, in obedience to the law of inclination, the roots search in darkness for moisture while the foliage turns to the morning sun in gladness.

Animal life cuts clear from vegetable moorings mysteriously equipped with an invisible guide.

GLADSTONE

Spiritual life is the soul unincumbered by material bondage.

To prove that extinction or enfeeblement of the body does not impair the soul, we will consider the life of Gladstone, for if we find an isolated case whose mind did not weaken along with the body, it is positive proof that all so-called dotage or drowsiness of the aged is simply the effect of the live soul impeded in its effort to recall familiar occurrences through impaired organs. This is obvious from the fact that when the object has been recalled the spiritual vision of the object appears in all its original minuteness.

Everyone who reads knows that Gladstone when he carried the Home Rule Bill in the House of Commons, at the age of eighty-four, was as elegant, scrutinizing, and powerful in his debates as when forty-four years old. Still at that age his sight, hearing, power of recall of names, and tottering form were incessantly passing away.

Is not this evidence that two distinct agencies were at the time involved, life and death.

According to James' no-soul theory, his speech was involuntary reflex action, governed by neither will nor memory, while according to reason the spirit which controlled this wonderful man's feeble, tottering form was as clear and bright as it had been in days gone by.

Falling asleep in death is not a new venture. We are unconscious through life of all we know except as momentary knowledge comes forth through the organs, which in sleep as in death are unconscious of surrounding existence.

Jesus said, "I go that I may wake him out of sleep." "She is not dead but sleepeth."

If man is simply a creation of animated matter, he dies like a vegetable, if he is a dual creature, soul and body, when one part ceases to be, the other is not self, but if man is a spiritual being temporarily inhabiting and partially controlling a creation of animation the dissolution of the animated form must set him free and leave the spiritual being intact.

In memory, of childhood days, we apparently go back and view the scenes again, but if we really did go back we would see them as they are and not as they were, so we must give up that theory.

The most prevalent materialistic doctrine is that memory is an impression of the occurrences stamped on the brain. This theory when turned upon itself plainly establishes the invisible soul as the being who discerns the impressions.

The most modern atheistic theory is that memory is not a retained impression, but rather a new creation caused by immediate external stimuli. See Volume 1, page 649, of James' Psychology.

As all sane expressions are based on foreknowledge, this theory assumes that the cold exterior stimuli at the motor discharge instantly re-create the experience of our entire passed life.

This fallacy, together with the brain path theory, proves that excess of possessions coupled with classical education creates degeneracy.

Under the guise of philosophy and science these instructors are not only attacking the church but the vital spark of life.

I have spent years in the principal parts of the world studying the people and their modes of worship and I have found that all religions are one and beautiful in that they teach that at death the soul will be free. The righteous and wicked will be separated and our future destination will depend upon our personal motives while living in the body.

Whether our soul theory be a myth, mystery or truism, one thing is obvious, those living under the conviction that their apparent secret motives are in some way actually known, and will stand for or against them at death, will lead more pure lives, and make better parents, citizens and neighbors than those who imbibe materialism through faithless instructors who apparently hope there will be no reckoning day.

The immortal soul has been the staff of hope on which frail humanity has leaned for ages. The American Indian stood in the evening gloom, shading his brows with his feeble hand as he tried to look over the cold waves of death just to get a glimpse of the unexplored happy hunting ground. John, while on the isle of Patmos invented pearly gates and golden streets. He had caught the symbolic mode of teaching from Jesus in that ideas transformed into object lessons are more easily comprehended.

Jesus taught the soul theory from start to finish. "The kingdom of God cometh not by observation--the kingdom of God is within you." "Fear not them which kill the body but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both body and soul in Hell." "It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing." "The words I speak unto you are spirit and are life." Still he illustrated his ideas through object lessons.

Many who do not profess actually believe in the immortality of the soul. When unprofessing parents weep at the death of their sweet babe; they somehow believe that after life's dark storms are all passed, they will find that their pet has been in the care of loved ones who have gone before.

Any thoughtful person when observing their hand must discern two distinct forces in existence, spiritual and material or visible and invisible. And that the invisible is the force which knows and drives the material. Thus, as the exterior stimuli through the ear or other senses awaken the reason, so the invisible through the different functions of the brain emit their conclusion, based on world experience and scrutinized by the spirit, or a God-given power we call reason, which is often swayed by sly will power.

The aged are continually calling up minor incidents of forty years ago, while yesterday's events evade recall. Why is this?

It is not that the obscurity of vision, confusion of results and uncertainty of doubt which befogs life today darkened the path in the same way fifty years ago, but time has removed the obscurity and the original appears. Could we live another fifty years, might not the cloud which now befogs our path have vanished and we again remember the glance of recognition of yesterday, which now seems hard to recall.

No one contends but that our journey of life is traveled in utter darkness. No recall of the past, no discernment of the future. If then one unimportant act or thought of the long ago did record itself, may not all have done the same, and may it not be that when the veil of obscurity is drawn aside, all the minute details of life will blend the awakened past with the present, and we discover that our birth was not a beginning but rather a forgetting, and death the welcome morning call.

I stood with the mother of the James boys, beside the grave of Jesse, in her door yard, when she told how that once when Jesse thought he was dying he took his watch charm and handed it to a comrade, saying, "Take this to sister Anna and tell her to pray that we meet in Heaven."

That mother's tears did not seem to me like crocodile tears. In fact there is something about the deadly bandit which we sometimes admire, but if there is anything fascinating about Harvard James and his sympathizers who sneak in under the cloak of morality to influence the young to turn against the great thinking spiritual world, I, for one, cannot see it.

I may be too blunt and plain in my remarks concerning soulless advocates but I feel that these teachers are not only swinging to the other extreme from religion, but through selfishness or ignorance they are creating unrest and war.

Most of our national leaders have been drilled in these theories and while many are too wise to accept them there are those who accept what they are taught just as a calf takes milk from the cow.

These thoughtless learned often become political leaders. Especially where finances are concerned, for with this no soul theory in view, their only object in life can be aggrandizement and luxury tinctured with animal passion.

EVENING OF MY LIFE DAY

Years have passed since my cycling days and yet I am strong and athletic.

My daughter Minnie and her husband, Dr. B. H. Chamberlain, with their only boy Hiland, have lately sold their home on Washington boulevard and are not yet settled again.

Arthur and Jessie, with three children, Marvin and the twins, Jean and Willard, have an elegant home on Keystone avenue, Rivert Forest. He owns the Inland Whitelead Co., which is a large concern.

Alberta and her husband, George Carlson, with their three bright girls, Mary, Mildred and Frances, live in their comfortable home near me in Oak Park. George is captain of our fire department.

Thus I have my children and grandchildren around me, all in good health and standing in the community.

I am still conducting my manufacture of copper and tinware on my property, corner Washington boulevard and Curtis street. My 75 years does not seem to trouble me, for I feel as well as I did fifty years ago.

Mary Hoyt, my first wife, long since entered the shadows where faults and failings grow dim, while virtues and charms blend the past, present and future into one eternal morning of gladness.

In 1902, I married Mrs. Williamson, whose maiden name was Mary Prickett, of Goshen, Ind. Our days together have been continued sunshine and joy. Evenings when I return home each tells of the day's joys, troubles and ludicrous incidents.

My Mary not only runs the home, buying, paying, attending to her church trotting and downtown shopping, but she is interested in my ups and downs at the factory. Inquires all about Dorfman, my factory superintendent; Bilthouse, my mechanical engineer, and carries in mind my business associates, knows their names and who they represent.

To me, a man who expects his wife to stay in her place, never deserving of praise, misses much he might enjoy if he knew enough to appreciate her worth. Many a man's success in life is owing to the genius of his wife, a fact which neither seems to understand.

Our home, northwest corner East and Chicago avenue, Oak Park, we built in 1909 and 1910. The house is spacious and elegant, but the gem of Fair Oaks subdivision is our large yard.

Of the six stately burr oaks, known to be hundreds of years old, one stands near our sleeping room window, on which is the house or home of a mother squirrel, who when she has babies allows no other squirrel to even climb the tree. Each day she comes down to the kitchen for dinner, often sitting on Mrs. Richardson's shoulder while eating and does not even care if her tail does brush the ladies' eyes.