Chapter XXIII (1)

A few weeks of balmy spring air and soft sunshine completely restored me to health.

One day when strolling in company with Mr. Bristed through a path blooming with early hyacinths and crocuses, I ventured to ask him about my school.

“It is entirely broken up, Agnes. After the fearful tragedy that transpired within its walls, your pupils scattered like dust in the wind. I arrived the next morning after the death of Richard, unconscious of what had occurred in my absence, but intending to take you home with me. I found you, as I then thought, on your death-bed. I settled with your separate teachers, and closed the school. With the French woman who claimed to be Richard’s wife, and with whom he had probably gone through the form of marriage, as with you, I made an arrangement satisfactory to her to sell the property and give her an equivalent for its value.”

“But what motive,” I asked hesitatingly, “could Richard have had for his course?”

“Motive? The same that had actuated him through life. With you, Agnes, he would have lived probably as he did with others, until his versatile heart demanded a change. Then, with your little estate in his hands and Herbert’s property in his power, he would have deserted you for some new beauty.

“But let the grave cover his mistakes and evils. I believe that a good God will not punish him too severely for propensities which he inherited.”

Once more I yielded to the charms of companionship and love. Severe trials had proved Mr. Bristed’s worth, and when he again asked me to make the remnant of his life happy by my care and love--to become his wife, and share his home, and reign queen of his heart--I consented. When the June roses blossomed, we were married. The balmy air and opening buds spoke of a new life. They typified my new life, truly. The glitter and gloss which had deceived me in youth would never beguile me more. I had learned that it was not the external man, but the internal that was worthy of love.

The shadowy form of Alice never troubled me again, I believe reparation can be made beyond the tomb, and that in some far-off world the new-born spirit of Richard atones to Alice and Herbert for the wrong he did them in this.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

_TO HER HUSBAND_.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! You cannot see her in her glad surprise, Kissing the tear-drops from your weeping eyes; Moving about you through the ambient air, Smoothing the whitening ripples of your hair.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! You cannot see the flowers she daily twines In garlands for you, from immortal vines; The danger she averts you never know; For her sweet care you only tears bestow.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! Vainly you’ll wait until the last trump sound! Vainly your love entombed beneath the ground! Vainly in kirk-yard raise your mournful wail! Your loved is living in some sunnier vale.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! You think her gone to her eternal rest, Like some strange bird forever left her nest! Her sweet voice hush’d within the silent grave, While o’er her dust the weeping willows wave.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! And yet she lives, and loves! Oh, wondrous truth! In golden skies she breathes immortal youth! Look upward! where the roseate sunset beams, Her airy form amid the brightness gleams!

Dead! dead! You call her dead! Oh, speak not thus! her tender heart you grieve, And ’twixt her love and yours a barrier weave! Call her by sweetest name, your voice she’ll hear, And through the darkness like a star appear.

Dead! dead! You call her dead! Lift up your eyes! she is no longer dead! In your lone path the unseen angels tread! And when your weary night of earth shall close, She’ll lead you where eternal summer blows.

ARTEMUS WARD.

_AND OUT OF PURGATORY._

ARTEMUS WARD’S LECTURES TO POOR, PERISHING HUMANITY.

LECTER I.

You’ll remember, relatives and nabors, how I crost the Atlantic Ocean and never agin set foot on my native soil. I naterally thought my opportunities there, in the British Mooseum and with those Egyptian Carcusses dun up in rags, and remaining for the space of six days and six nights with a skeleton grinning at me and pointing its long skinless fingers in my face and looking in an awful licentious manner, showing its pivoted legs--I say I naterally thought such an unheard-of experience would have prepared me for “the awful change” that follered. But it didn’t.

One nite, cummin’ hum from the Mooseum, where I had been instructin’ and elevatin’ several thousand pussons, male and female, I innocently swallered a fog--swallered it hull. I’d bin swallerin on ’em ever since I’d bin in England, but that night I took in a bigger one than ever, and it made me _sick_.

I sent for the physicians that received the patronage of the noble lords and dooks and they made me _sicker_; and finally for the physicain “to her most gracious majisty the Queen of Great Britain,”--but their aristocratic attention to me was of no use. As I lie tossing on what is known as “the bed of pain,” I seed a big light coming through the dark towards me. Behind that light appeared a grim skeleton, just like the pictur of Death in the Alminack, walkin’ on tiptoe toward me; and quicker than a wink he put out his long bony hand and touched me--firstly, in the pit of the stomach, so I couldn’t holler; nextly, he pressed his finger tips on my eye-balls, and they sunk right back into their sockets.

I tried to shake him off, and to yell, but I couldn’t! Then I knew I was “dun fur.” Next came what a printer’s devil would call a ---- blank.

I was skeered out of my seven senses, and when I cum to and tried to recolect myself, I was like the old woman in the song who fell asleep, and

“By came a pedlar and his name was Stout
And he cut her petticoats all round about;
He cut her petticoats up to her knees,
Which made the old woman begin for to freeze.”

I was in the same predicament, for I was now only in my bare bones, and knew I was a rolecking old skeleton.

Wall, it gin me an awful shock to find myself like a skull and cross-bones on a tombstone, sittin’ on my own coffin!

Presently I was grappled by a big worm with a hundred legs. He then sent for his feller worms, and they licked me from skull to toe-jint. After I had stood the lickin’ as long as I could (they tickled so), I concluded to run away, so I started on a full gallop, and arter I had run awhile, where should I fetch up but in the vicinity of Vic’s Palace. I know’d by pussonal experience suthin’ of the feelin’ manner with which the British public look upon the Royal Family, and a sensation of relief cum over my mind as I thought if I once entered their ground no one dared foiler me. So I gin a spring and leaped right atop of the middle chimny. Owin’ to private considerations, I did’nt mind the soot, but I clambered down, and there I was, to my amazement, rite in the private apartments of the Queen. She was sittin’ at a table lookin’ at a dogerotipe of Prince Albert; and I walked straight up to her, not feel in’ a bit afeared, and making my manners, axed her if I didn’t resemble the Prince?--rememberin’ that the preacher had kindly said over my coffin that “there was no distinction in the grave.”

I thought that as I was a pooty gay image of Death, I might remind her of the “Prince Consort.”

She looked up kinder sideways as I spoke, but she must have bin a leetle hard o’ hearing, for she shook her head.

Then I thought I’d try her on another tack. So I placed my hands on my shakey knees, and bendin’ over in this guise, so she could see me plainly, while my teeth rattled in my skull as I shook my head at her and growled:

“Haint you afeared of me, Madam?” With the pirsistent obstinacy of the feminine gender, she refused to notice me. So I thought she was kinder “set up on her pins,” and I shouted louder:

“Victoria _Brown_! Aint you afeared of me? Aint you afeared I’ll tell Prince Albert of your _dooins_?”

At that she gin an awful yell, and flung herself down upon a yaller satin divan, trimed with gold, and slobbered it all over with tears.

I know’d then I had a “_mission to perform_,” and that my fleshless bones were not given me for useless pleasure, but as a “warnin’ to my race.”

Arter this adventer I left the palace as I had entered it, “leavin’ not a trace behind me.”

Since that affair, I have bin goin’ about “doin’ good,” frightnin’ the wicked into fits, and follerin’ in the steps of the parsen, and thus working my way out of Purgatory.

LECTER II.

ARTEMUS WARD.--OUT OF PURGATORY.

Relatives and nabors,--Thinkin’ you’ll, like to know whether I’d bin roastin’ in brimstone, along with Solomen and Lot’s wife, and that you might feel consarned to know sumthin’ about my further adventers, I’ll continoo.

One mornin’ soon after this, havin’ spent a restless nite, I was thinkin’ what I had best do, when I seed, cumin’ rite out of a big marble edifice, a nice little woman about as raw-boned as myself. As she carried an open paper in her hand which was certified to by two bishops and three clergeymen that she’d bin baptised and her sins washed away, I felt it would be safe for me to foller her, knowin’ I had no such dockerment to admit me into the good graces of Abraham or Peter, or whatever porter might keep the gates of Paradise.

She seemed kinder skeered and tremblin’ like for a minit, not knowin’ what to do; then with a sudden start she spread herself out just like the eagel of Ameriky, and soared rite up into the sky with nothin’ to histe her by. I felt in my heart to foller her, and spread out just as she did, keeping near her on the sly.

As she went on she began to shine like a star, shootin’ on through the azure heavens for all the world like a sky-rocket.

That put me on my pluck, and I bust out just like a sky-rocket too. My blazers! If it didn’t make my head spin.

When I collected my idees, I thought I’d look and see if I resembled a glow-worm behind, and there, by thunder, was a long stream of light, just like the tail of a comet! I tell you, I felt happy! She’s regenerated me, thought I; and I, too, am one of the “shining hosts”! And then directly, without any warnin’ or noise of any kind, all around began to look about the color of a yaller sun-flower, and I began to scent a powerful smell of roses and violets.

The female sank down in the golden air, and I kept cluss beside her, and as she kept droppin’ she suddenly changed, like the old woman in the fairy-book, into a bouncin’ girl, the very pictur of the goddess of liberty!

Arter this, she turned and smiled on me. She looked just like alabaster cream; the most dazzlingest creetur that ever startled the beholder!

I was took quite aback when she held out her little hand for mine; I felt kinder delicate like that she should see my big jints. But howsomever, “here goes,” said I, and I stuck out my bony fist, and, by Jupiter, it was kivered with flesh, jest as soft and delicate as Uncle Sam’s babies!!!

I stood starin’ from my hands to her about a minit, and then she bust out a-laughin’, and I bust out a-laughin’ too!

“How shaller you be!” said she.

“It’s duced amoosin’,” said I.

“Who be you?” said she.

“Artemus Ward, the great lecterer on ‘Women’s Rites and Mormons,’” said I.

At this she seemed mighty tickled.

“I heerd you speak on those momentous subjects in Liverpool,” said she.

“And arter that when I read the affectin’ account of your death in a strange land, I cried.”

“Cried?” said I, “I’m much obleeged to you, but there’s nothin’ to cry for as I know.”

“So there be’nt,” said she, puckerin’ up her pretty little mouth; “but tell me, now, is this reely you?”

“I don’t know,” said I, “whether its reely myself or not, for I haven’t seed myself--how do I look?”

She naterally blushed and answered:

“Ansom.”

That was too much for me. I took her round her waist and whispered--I wont tell you what. She shook her head so that the ringlets fell downall over her neck like the ashes from a tobaccy pipe, and in a mighty reprovin’ manner said:

“Artemus Ward, I am a poetess!”

(By Jupiter! that was a stunner.)

“Is it Mrs. _Browning_?” said I, ready to drop on my knees (thinkin’ of Robert).

She shook her head agin, and moved off, and I follered, kinder ashamed of bein’ so abrupt. Lookin’ loftily at me, she said:

“I must leave you.”

“Leave me!” said I, “You cruel monster of beauty! Leave when I am _sealed_ to you?”

(That kinder frightened her--I learned suthin’ from bein’ among the Mormons.)

“You may foller me,” said she, while descendin’ in the midst of a garden which opened rite before us. I did as she advised, and stepped rite down in a place where there was a mighty display of trees, flowers, and fountains, and a pretty big sprinklin’ of people.

Good Heavens! thought I. Is this the New Jerusalem? and lookin’ around timidly for the man with the key, fearin’ I might be turned out, but seein’ nothin’ but common lookin’ men and women, and no “flamin’ cherubim,” and creaters with wings stuck on their heads, and no bodies, such as I had naterally expected to find in such a place, I took courage and stept forward boldly.

The people all commenced cryin’ out as loud as they could:

“Artemus Ward! Artemus Ward!”

I felt kinder abashed at this, but advanced and called out, “Hear! hear! Friends, it’s an amazin’ mystery how you know’d my name.” (I felt diffident at not havin’ my lecter in my pocket, and not bein’ accustomed to speakin’ verbatim.) Howsumever, as they continooed to clap their hands and shout, I got together all the brass I used to carry “down East,” and jumped right atop of one of the roarin’ fountains--the very biggest on ’em all. I surmised it was kinder dangerous, havin’ always experienced a religious awe of the “water of life,” and not knowin’ but what this might be it. “Here goes,” said I; “faint heart never won fair lady,” for rite at the foot was that bootiful poetess to whom allusion has been made, lookin’ straight at me with all her eyes.

I wanted to make a grand impression and let ’em know that I cum from a nation that could fight for the Constitution, and wasn’t afeard of spirits. And as for the “gold and pearls,” the “jasper and the sardonix,” they needn’t expect to snub me off with this, for I had been all through the gold and silver regions of Ameriky, and could tell as big a story as any on ’em.

“The fact is, friends and nabors,” said I, “it is one thing to read of a place, and another to see it. Now I must say, that geography and book of travels called the ‘Bible’ is suthin’ like ‘Gulliver’s Travels,’ rather loose in description; and, for all I see around me, the grand nation of Ameriky can beat you all holler in wonders.”

Havin’ thus spoken a good word for my country, I dismissed them, and hurried back to commence these lecters, which is only a beginnin’ of what I intend to do for the Amerikan People.

LADY BLESSINGTON.

_DISTINGUISHED WOMEN_.

It is remarkable to what a degree woman develops her intellect in the spirit world.

Freed from the cares of maternity, she seems like some young goddess fresh from the hand of Jupiter. All nerve, electricity, and motion--her thoughts sparkling and full of flavor, and light, and life, this new-born Eve of the celestial kingdom inspires the down-trodden Eve of earth, and kindles to a blaze the whole male population of the spiritual globe.

Prominent among the women of the times who have emigrated to these shores from populous America, stands Margaret Fuller--a tall and impressive blonde--a woman of strong bias, and resolute as a lion when she has set foot upon a project. Earnest, passionate, and brilliant in conversation, she wields a powerful influence over many minds of a peculiar order; and through the few mediums whom she selects to represent her characteristics, she displays a calmness and coolness of reasoning and an excellence of judgment such as few are able to exhibit thus second handed.

She has, through the exercise of her genius, erected a beautiful villa upon a southern island, wherein she has displayed her poetic taste to advantage. There, in the midst of a luxuriant garden, she resides with her beautiful Angelo, a child of graceful form who was washed ashore from the sad wreck years ago, but now approaching the years of manhood, and in his looks the very personification of a young Mercury, blending the fire and passion of a Southern nature with the zeal and activity of the Northern.

Count Ossoli and his noble wife tear themselves away from the pleasures of this delightful state of existence and devote their sacred energies to the enfranchisement of Italy.

No Roman patriot, neither Garibaldi nor any of his compeers, equals them in their efforts for the freedom of that sunny land.

Madame Ossoli is sanguine of success.

Defeat she considers merely the plough and harrow for the ripe harvest of victory which will follow.

From her own eloquent lips I have heard her address to the Italian soldiers who, defeated and killed, marched to the spirit land.

She told them how she, in the midst of her new-born joy, in sight of her own native land, fought the fierce battle of the briny waves, and felt as she sat dying on the sinking wreck, that all she had striven for was in vain; how she had found that defeat, that engulping billow, had proved in the end a victory, and had placed her where she could watch over the destiny of Italia, her adopted country, and work for its regeneration, and fight for its liberty, as she could not have done had she been more successful in her plans on earth.

Another American woman, of less note, but also a reformer, is Eliza Farnham. She is not so emotional, has less sentiment and considerable originality, and is honest in her opinions and determined in her efforts to uplift her sex and ameliorate their condition.

She wields a powerful influence over a certain clique in the spirit world and on earth, and therefore deserves to be noticed among the women of the times. In person she is of dark complexion, with black hair and eyes, and strongly-marked brows, possessing much vivacity and caustic wit.

She is matron of a large Institution, or Circulorium, erected for the use of those spirits who make a practice of communicating with the inhabitants of earth. They there meet to converse upon the various means which they employ for transmitting intelligence, and to relate their successes and defeats with the various trance and clairvoyant mediums through whom they operate. There congregate those lecturers and orators who discourse through the organisms of numerous trance and inspirational mediums on earth. There also convene physicians and “medicine men” who control the large number of healing mediums who exercise their power throughout the United States and Europe. There, also, gather the prophets and seers, who, with vision clearer than that of ordinary spirits, warn mankind of danger and impress individuals to pursue certain courses of action, to go or come, to undertake and prosecute great designs for the seeming weal or woe of humanity.

From this lofty aviary she still sends forth her delicious, strains. The children of earth hear them in fainter notes through young poets who catch her inspiration. What she is doing for women in the world she inhabits will be felt ere long in both the continents of Europe and America.

Another remarkable person in this coterie of illustrious women must be mentioned--Charlotte Bronté--a lady who feels the true dignity and intellect of her sex with a force akin to manliness. Modest and retiring, she would yet pick up the gauntlet like any knight against the man who should say of a work of literary merit, “that it could never have been penned by a woman.”

Soft and delicate, yet strong and full of heroism, she represents woman, quicker to perceive the right than man, and capable of undergoing greater perils in executing her duty.

Charlotte Bronté is a slight, brown-haired girl, with an eye full of clairvoyant power. With her father, sisters, and poor reprobate of a brother, all united like a cluster-diamond, she lives in a home which they have selected, remarkable for its wild and picturesque beauty.

As a family they are like the ancient Scots, clannish--not in a vulgar acceptation of the term, but for the reason that they are kindred souls. The torch of genius flames in every member of that family, but Charlotte is the mover, the inspirer of them all. She possesses a greater degree of concentration and energy, and is more chivalrous and venturesome. She is exceedingly interested in woman, and devotes daily a portion of her time to visiting earth and suggesting ideas and thoughts to those whom she can influence.

In her new home she draws around her a circle of chosen spirits, among whom may be mentioned Thackeray (who esteems her as about the finest specimen of womanhood he has seen), Prince Albert, Scott, Hawthorne, the German Goethe, De Quincy, and others.

Few writers of romance have done more than she towards raising her sex above the frivolities of dress and fortune, and placing them where they shine conspicuous for their intellect and noble affections.

Bold and unsparing in analyzing woman’s heart in its uncontaminated simplicity as well as in its subtlety, she lighted a torch in behalf of her sex which flamed throughout the literary world, startling and dazzling the beholder--a light which will never be quenched.

Charlotte Bronté was on earth what is now known as a medium. Her belief in the supernatural she evinced in her works. If she had not indicated so much intellect, the critics would have termed her superstitious. They have inferred that it was the loneliness and sadness of her life which caused her to imagine she saw her beloved dead and heard unearthly voices calling her. But she has since told me that those mysterious influences were not morbid fancies, but realities. Being thus endowed clairvoyantly, and not only receptive but able to impart that which she receives, she exerts at the present moment an influence in the world of letters little dreamed of on earth.

I may here, without infringing on the requirements of good taste, allude to the tale she has dictated through this medium. That it is a story of powerful interest, all who read it will confess.

To many minds it will prove that her power is unabated, but every reader will perceive the characteristics of the Bronté family in the tale--characteristics which cannot be imitated--which are individualized in that family, and breathe of the lone moor on which they spent their earth ife, one of sad struggle of genius against circumstance and destiny.

PROFESSOR OLMSTEAD.

_THE LOCALITY OF THE SPIRIT WORLD, AND ITS MAGNETIC RELATIONS TO THIS_.

How near is the spirit world to earth? is a question often put by the inquiring mind. Some suppose it lies contiguous, just in the suburbs; others imagine the spirit world to be within the atmosphere of this earth; others again set it afar off in a given locality.

The last theory is correct, and the spirit world is really several billions of miles from earth; yet the suppositions are true (in a certain sense), for the inhabitants of the spirit world are migratory, and there are many millions of them living within the earth’s atmosphere, drawn thither on errands of pleasure and duty.

But there is a spiritual earth revolving around its spiritual sun, just as this earth revolves around its sun.

It has shape and form like this planet, and is indeed the spiritual body of the earth.

It existed before the creation of man on this globe, and was ready for the reception of the soul or spirit of the first human being who perished on earth.

As a spirit’s body is constructed from the spiritual emanations of man, so the spiritual globe is formed of the magnetic emanations of the earth. The refined gases which were thrown off during the process of the formation of the material globe which man now inhabits, form the basis of the spirit earth.

Each planet in the vast universe has its correspondent spirit world, and invisible magnetic rays are constantly exchanging between the spirit planet and its earth.

These magnetic currents or rays, like waves of silver light, constantly transmit thoughts from the spirit world to this.

All spirit is matter.

The spirit globe, being primarily composed of gases, in revolving around its central sun ultimates in a substance which is similar to the soil of your earth.

The same system which marks the development of the material world also is displayed in the development of the spiritual world.

Order is God. No spirit world can exist without form, neither can it exist without motion. Motion produces the spheroid, and the rotation of the spheroid produces atmosphere and diversity of surface; all these variations characterize the spirit globe.

When these facts are carefully reflected upon and understood, the majesty of the Creator assumes a magnitude most stupendous.

The astronomer searching through space for undiscovered planets and suns, has failed to fix his telescope upon these spiritual worlds, but the day will come when science will discover their existence.

The spirit world is not an arid desert. As I have said, it has soil. It is not a thin, vaporish flat, without depth or density; and its circumference exceeds that of the earth.

One of the component elements of its soil is magnetism. Its vegetation is of rapid growth and beautiful beyond anything that your planet can display.

As the atmosphere of the spirit world is not so dense as yours, and as the rays of the spiritual sun are not obliged to penetrate through so much cloud and vapor, the colors of all objects are sparkling and beautiful in variety and tone.

The specific gravity of the spirit upon his globe is not so great, comparatively, as that of man in the natural world. He can rise in his native air with little difficulty, and can dart with unerring accuracy upon the magnetic current flowing from the spirit world to the one he once inhabited.

The investigator in searching for the spirit world has but to direct his attention to the north star and his eye will embrace, unwittingly, the locality of that world. The north pole is the great gate which leads to it direct.

The aurora borealis or Northern lights is an electric current which flows from that world to earth, and is sent in through the great gate. The scintillations of these rays are caught up by the clouds and vapors and are repeated in many portions of the globe, and faint rays from them are seen even in this temperate climate.

ADAH ISAACS MENKEN.

_HOLD ME NOT_.

Up to the zenith mount! Far into space-- Ah! all thy tears I count, Sad, loving face.

Clasp not my garments so, Love of my soul; Clinging, you drag me low, Where tortures roll.

Soil not my angel wing; Keep not from rest; How can I upward spring, Clasped to thy breast?

Hold me not, lover--friend-- Earth I would fly; Passion and torture end In the blest sky!

Life brought but woe to me, Even thy kiss Gave me but agony-- Remorse with bliss!

Let go thy earthly hold--
Fain would I fly;
Voices with love untold
Call from on high.

Farewell--the dregs are drank
Of life’s sad cup;
It proved but poison rank;
Life’s lease is up!

N.P. WILLIS.

_OFF-HAND SKETCHES_.

Since my friend Morris joined me, we’ve been as busy as Wall street brokers in a gold panic--eyes and ears, and every sense filled with the novel sights and sounds that greet us on every side in this most delightful, charming, incomparably beautiful summer land.

Whom have we not seen, from Napoleon down to the last suicide?

I have a memorandum which would reach from here to Idlewild, filled with the names of notables and celebrities, whom I have met in the short space of a year.

We do matters quickly here, among the celestials. I used to think life sped fast in the great cities of London, Paris, and New York, but we live faster here. With every means of travelling which human ingenuity can invent--flying machines, balloons, the will and the magnet--we fairly outdo thought and light, which you consider emblems of rapidity on earth.

Morris and I made a point of visiting Byron, Moore, Hunt, Scott, and that clique. You must bear in mind that we do not all live on one point of space _here_; among so many thousand million, billion, trillion, quadrillion, sextillion, and countless illions, there must be some persons who are further apart than Morris and I, who are side by side!

It is a peculiarity which you Yankees seldom think of, that Englishmen can’t endure to live in America. Well, that peculiarity is just as active after they “shuffle off the mortal coil.” They must have their little England, even in the spirit world.

So I telegraphed to that quarter of the celestial planet that two strangers from the great emporium of intellect, and civilization, New York City, were about to visit that locality. We so arranged our journey as to arrive about a day after the dispatch had reached them.

It was proposed that we should meet at the beautiful villa belonging to the Countess of Blessington.

I can assure you that on arriving there it was with a slightly palpitating heart I ascended the noble steps of her residence. The Countess met us graciously, and by her vivacity and charming candor dispelled the feeling of modest diffidence as to our merits, naturally awakened by the thought of being presented to those illustrious persons who so long held sway over English literature.

Ere we were aware, we were ushered into the midst of a hilarious group of authors, who welcomed us in a most cordial manner.

I did not need to have them introduced to me by name, as I recognized each readily from likenesses I had seen on earth.

Lord Byron’s countenance is much handsomer and more spiritualized in expression than any portrait of him extant. I noticed that the deformity of his foot, which had been a severe affliction to him on earth, was no longer apparent.

Scott looked as good and as jovial as ever, and Tom Moore, the very pink of perfection and elegance.

As for the Countess, when I last saw her on earth I thought her incomparable. But whether it was through the cosmetic influences of the spirit air, or from other causes, she had now become bewitchingly beautiful.

After we had conversed awhile on general topics and I had answered their questions in regard to the changes which had occurred in certain terrestrial localities with which, they were familiar, the Countess invited us out to survey the landscape from her balcony.

The view from this point was extremely romantic. Just beyond the spacious park extended a lovely lake, whose waters were of a rich golden-green color. Upon its limpid bosom several gondolas floated, and gay parties waved their handkerchiefs to us from beneath the silken hangings as they passed.

“Countess,” said I, after my eye had surveyed the fine landscape and noble residence, “I am but a wandering Bohemian, and you must excuse my audacity if I ask how it, is possible that in this “world of shadows” you have surrounded yourself by so much that is beautiful and substantial? You could not bring your title and your lands with you from earth. Your jewels and costly raiment you must have left behind; then whence comes all this wealth and luxury?”

The Countess smiled. “Ah,” said she, roguishly, “you did not study your Bible lesson well if you did not learn that you could ’lay up treasures in heaven.’ Why, all the time I was living on earth I had friends working for me--admirers who had been drawing interest from my youthful talent and had laid it up to my account. We go upon the tithe system here, and ’render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.”

She told me that works of interest which are published on earth are reproduced in the spirit world and the author credited with a tithe of what accrues from them.

Byron, Scott, and Moore have also been doing double duty while on earth, and have been recompensed for their industry in the spirit world.

Byron, she privately informed me, had been united to the Mary of his early love, and under her sweet womanly influence had lost much of the misanthropy which had annoyed his friends in this life.

As my stay was short, I had only opportunity to converse with these men of mark on general topics.

On the whole, we spent a very interesting morning, and, after partaking of refreshments, we left, having inquired after Count D’Orsay, whom we learned was then on a trip to earth. Bidding adieu to the Countess and her friends, we started for the celebrated island called the “Golden Nest,” which lies in a south-westerly direction from the Countess’s villa.

After having travelled some hours in our own diligence (i.e., driven through the air by our own will), moving along quite leisurely that we might survey the country beneath us, we reached a group of beautiful lakes, reminding me strongly in size and appearance of lakes Erie, Huron, Michigan, and Superior, the famed lakes of my own native clime.

In the centre of the largest of these lakes lay the island we were seeking. We descended like skilful aeronauts into the centre of a group of happy children, who were playing like little fairies amid the flowers blooming profusely everywhere.

Singling out two of the prettiest, we addressed them.

Directly a merry band gathered about us, answering our questions intelligently and skipping before us to lead the way to the “Golden Nest,” as the superb structure was called in which these little soul-birds were sheltered.

Everywhere, as we advanced, our eyes lit upon pretty bands of children; some swinging in the tree-boughs like birds, some waltzing in the air, others sitting upon the green, chattering and singing, filling the surrounding air with their melody.

Certainly it was a most enlivening sight to witness their enjoyment. After having amused ourselves for a while with their gambols, we turned our steps toward the Home.

The building was oval in form, and composed of a golden fleecy incrustation from which it derived it, name. Within, the “Nest” was like Aladdin’s palace.

Innumerable compartments, hung with silks and tissues of tender and. harmonious colors, and decorated with birds’ plumage of varied hues, arrested the eye. These spacious alcoves were each furnished with a domed skylight, adorned with hanging tassels and glittering ornaments. Ladies were busy in nearly all of these compartments in instructing children under their care.

In some that I entered I was shown new-born babes not an hour old, torn from their mothers’ bosoms on earth, and lying upon fleecy pillows, attended by lovely women, who looked the angels which they were.

One of these gay baby-nests in which I lingered was decorated with peculiar tastefulness, and seemed like a perfect aviary. Singular birds of splendid plumage were perched on various projections about the spacious apartment, warbling away like silver bells.

The lady of this chamber was engaged in teaching a little girl of some two summers to mount to the skylight by her will.

This lady, I was informed, was the noble lady R----, so famed for her charity on earth.

She was very gracious and communicative, and told me that some children exercised their ability to rise in air more readily than others; that the difficulties their instructor had to guard against were the fickle, versatile nature of their wills, and their inability for continuous thought. Their wayward minds could not be directed long at one point. They would wander from the path like the poor little Babes in the Wood, and on their way to special destinations, would change their thoughts, unharness their will, and come suddenly down, sometimes in lonely and unfrequented spots.

Owing to this dereliction, it was found difficult to make frequent excursions to earth with them. Those attracted to their terrestrial homes were attended by ladies who had them in charge, and who would kindly accompany them, for one or two weeks, to visit their friends upon earth.

I told her that I had lost a child some years ago, and had thought till recently to find it still an infant.

Many cases of this kind, she said, had occurred under her observation. People did not view the matter rationally. Ladies had called at the “Golden Nest” to inquire for children that had left earth twenty or thirty years ago, and it was painful to witness the distress they exhibited when told that their children were grown men and women.

One lady had called there some three days since, and claimed as her own a little child, an infant about two months old, who had been brought from earth three weeks previous, while the child she had lost had been in the spirit world seventeen years!

But no amount of argument would convince her that her child had grown up, and that the infant she selected was not her own.

She was finally permitted to take the child away, as they knew it would be properly cared for. Many of the children while young were thus adopted.

“It appears marvellous,” remarked this noble lady, “that any parent should wish to cramp the body and soul of his child by keeping it in a state of infancy, when, if it had remained on earth, it would necessarily have arrived at years of maturity.

“Nature does not suspend her operations in transplanting from earth to heaven! The soul is formed for expansion, and surely the spirit world is not the place to suppress unfoldment!”

As I listened to her intelligent conversation, I blushed to be reminded of my own error in supposing my own darling, who had reached the spirit world so long before, would greet me with the prattling talk of babyhood!

Pleased with our visit and the information we had received, we bade adieu to Lady R. and the “Golden Nest,” and pursued our flight in another direction.

“Do let us next find out,” said I to Morris, “what they do here with criminals; there must be many a wicked reprobate who arrives here from earth fresh from murders and villanies of all sorts.”

As I spoke, two grave-looking gentlemen, whom I took to be either doctors or judges, crossed the path before us, and I proposed to make these inquiries of them.

Who should they prove to be but William Penn and the omnipresent Benjamin Franklin!

“Yes, yes,” said Penn, in reply to our questions shaking his head deprecatingly; “’tis too true; we are obliged to have what Swedenborg calls “our hells,” for you send your criminals from earth so hardened that we are compelled to keep them under guard. Come with us and we’ll show you how we treat them.”

We were very glad of this opportune meeting, and followed with alacrity.

Presently, leaving the beautiful country far behind us, we came upon a desert waste, and as I am extremely sensitive to conditions, I felt somewhat like a criminal in passing through it. Having got safely over, however, there burst upon our sight a scene of surpassing beauty; as far as the eye could reach extended a most highly-cultivated district of country.

Groves of fruit resembling the oranges and pineapples of our tropics, noble trees like the palm, the fig, and date, were to be seen in every quarter, rearing their boughs against the summer sky. The air was laden with fragrance from tree and vine.

Great bunches of purple grapes like the fabled fruit of Canaan in the Old Testament, a single bunch of which required two men to bear it, drooped heavily from twining vines, while from many a bough and twig swung golden, crimson, and cream-colored fruit, which fairly made one’s mouth water.

It was a picture rich enough in color for a Claude or Turner.

“This is delicious,” said I to Penn. “Do tell us to what fairy prince this magnificent land belongs!”

“We will show you the fairy prince himself, very soon,” said he. “Do you see the tip of his castle yonder?”

I looked, and as we moved swiftly in the direction indicated an unexpected spectacle loomed in sight. It was a building so delicate and perfect in its structure that it appeared like a vision.

Pillars and arches, dome and architrave, were wrought in a style exquisitely beautiful; the material of which it was composed seemed like polished sea-shells, so transparent that you could see through it the forms of the inmates.

“This,” said William Penn, “is one of our prisons. Let us enter.”

We followed in amazement, and were ushered into a hall hung with paintings rich in design and color, while distributed around in various alcoves were cases containing books and articles of curious workmanship, of which I had not yet learned the use.

This hall formed the court within the main building.

From where we stood we could see hundreds of men in white suits moving about. Some seemed engaged in conversation, others in sportive games, and others in various employments.

“You do not mean to tell us that these men are prisoners,” said I.

“Yes; they have passed for years on earth a life of evil, yet all the beauty you behold here is the work of their hands. Idleness is the mother of crime. We teach them to become industrious, and surround them with beauty to develop their love of harmony.

“Ignorance and poverty are supposed to be the principal causes of evil on earth. But many fearful offences have been committed in high places from thwarted love and ambition. We have many of that character in this prison, but they are young. This is intended as a place to educate and restrain men who would return to earth and incite impressible beings to evil.

“The material of which this building is composed, though seemingly so fragile, is a non-conductor of thought, and while detained within it the inmates gradually free themselves from their old influences and disorderly desires.

“Cultivating the fruits of the earth calls into action only their most harmonious organs. A great mistake made by the legislators of earth is in employing criminals in stone-cutting, or placing them in gangs, as they do on the Continent, to work the rugged road.

“Employment of this kind awakens the very propensities which should be subdued. The composing, softening influences induced by tilling the soil would go far toward converting your evil men into good citizens.”

I was struck with the truthfulness of his suggestions, and put them down in my note-book for the benefit of humanity, and now hand them over to my readers for consideration.

After leaving this place we paid a visit to Edgar A. Poe, whose unfortunate life on earth you are all familiar with. His brilliant imagination we found as active as of old. He welcomed us enthusiastically, and eagerly led us into a small theatre which he had constructed and filled with most marvellous creations from his own fancy. He inherited from his father and mother, who were actors, a love for dramatic effect, and in theatrical impersonations he found some vent for his exuberant imagination.

“Stand here,” said he, placing us near the entrance; “I have something curious to show you.” He then suspended upon the stage a curtain, whose peculiarity was its pure, soft blue color, like an Italian sky.

“Watch,” said he, pointing his uplifted finger to the hanging. Presently appeared upon it figures like shadows on a phantasmagoria.

One form was that of a female sitting upon a low chair, apparently reading a book.

“That,” said Poe, “is Miss D. I can control her and will her to reflect her figure upon the curtain; and that man is T.L. Harris. It is my own invention,” said he; “I studied it out and applied chemicals to my canvas till it produced this sensitive surface. All I have to do is to send my thoughts to them, and will them to appear, and there they are. Coleridge has a similar curtain, and some few others. But it requires a peculiar spirit brain to magnetize the subject sufficiently.” He offered to show me in the same manner any friend of mine with whom he could come in rapport.

This proposition delighted Morris and I, and we spent an agreeable evening in seeing certain of our friends on earth thus revealed.

Some were busy eating at the time, the _gourmands_! Others, more studious, were poring over books and papers, and one, whose name I shall not mention, was reproduced in the very act of making love!

The, dear old faces awakened such sad memories, and the occupations in which they were engaged were in the main so ludicrous, that we were held between tears and laughter till after midnight. But that is an Irish bull--for you must know that we have no night in the spirit world. Our diurnal revolutions are so rapid, and the atmosphere so magnetically luminous, that it is never dark here. But, however, according to earth’s parlance, it was midnight before we got through.

I will now bid adieu to my friends and readers until we meet again.

MARGARET FULLER

_CITY OF SPRING GARDEN_.

I am at present domiciled with my excellent friend Abraham Lincoln, in the beautiful city of Spring Garden. This place contains between sixty and seventy thousand inhabitants, a majority of whom are engaged in literary and artistic pursuits. It might vie with ancient Athens for the wealth of mind which is concentrated within its precincts. It is not compactly built, the city covering about thrice the surface of ground that would be occupied by one on earth of the same number of inhabitants. The streets are handsome, the pavements being covered with a gay enamel which is formed by dampening a certain yellow powder, which, when hardened, shines like amber. They are laid out in circles, surrounding a large park of several acres, which forms the centre of the city. This park is embellished with trees and flowering plants of every description, and does not differ materially from the extensive parks to be found on earth, except in its management.

Booths are erected at the various gates, which are supplied with fruits and confections free to all who present a ticket to the keeper. These tickets are furnished by the city authorities to those who desire them. This class is composed chiefly of children, and of grown persons who are incompetent to supply by their labor their own wants. Here they can walk through the pleasant grounds, rock themselves in swings, which are numerous, and, when weary with exercise, their appetites stimulated by the refreshing air, which circulates through its hills and dales as freely as in the open country, they can apply for refreshments at any one of the booths or tables within the park. A very delicious drink manufactured from the exudence of a flower not known on earth may here be procured. The grounds are provided with various other apparatus for amusement and pleasure, among which are elegantly-formed sleds on galvanic runners, which glide over the ground with swiftness most exhilarating to the senses. Air carriages are also furnished, and, in short, nothing is wanting for the pleasure and entertainment of the visitors who throng daily the extensive avenues.

Forming an outer circle to the park is the main thoroughfare of the city. The streets, as I have said, are laid out in graduated circles which increase in circumference as they recede from the centre. The outermost circle is bordered by trees, which form a natural wall. This city might be called the circle of palaces, from the numerous magnificent edifices which adorn it at every point.

The buildings are of a light, graceful style of architecture, adapted to the climate and the out-door life which the people generally lead.

The street facing the park is devoted to the display of commodities and creations of the spirit world and its inhabitants.

In this section are exposed to view beautiful fabrics, finer than the web of a spider, glistening like threads of sunbeam and ornamented with most exquisite floral designs taken from nature. Some of these fabrics emblemize the blue heaven glittering with silver stars; others the clouds, with sunlight shimmering through them.

Some have shadowy designs of birds and curious animals strown over a ground of amber or violet. These beautiful devices are photographed on the material; or, as the transcendentalist would say, they are projected there by the will.

Electricity with us is so potent an agent that it is used for this purpose, transferring the image and stamping it there.

These fabrics are more delicate and gossamer-like than any with which you are familiar on earth.

Exquisite materials are not only indulged in by ladies, but _male angels_ robe themselves in attire more fanciful and gorgeous than they have been accustomed to wear in their first life; except, indeed, the Orientals, who more nearly approach us Celestials in that particular.

I will state for the benefit of ladies that we have no millinery establishments, as the females wear simply their own beautiful hair, which they adorn with flowers and a peculiar lace, as thin as a breath. The hair, owing to electrical conditions, is usually abundant and of beautiful texture, forming the chief ornament of the head.

On the street I have described are also many studios for artists. These _attelliers_ are very ornamental in appearance, being placed in the centre of a large court. They are of various fanciful shapes, according to the design of the artist, generally open on the sides, with a dome supported by pillars, and resembling in form an ancient temple. Within, they are hung with rich draperies, which are adjusted at pleasure. The open dome admits the light and may be covered by a screen when necessary.

These studios are all on the ground floor, and usually with airy reception rooms attached, opening upon a court gay with flowers, birds, and fountains, making it a pleasant retreat for the artist and his friends. As my friend H---- gaily suggests, these accessible studios compensate the artist for the _attics_ which he occupied on earth.

The art of painting is here carried to greater perfection than it ever has been on earth.

As the development of the intellect in the material world depends upon the subservience of matter to mind, so in the spirit world, the same principle is the great motor power; for there we have matter (that is, spirit matter), and this we work into forms of beauty as we desire.

Speaking of art, I must digress to allude to the _fête_ which we held in our park in honor of three quite eminent artists, who have recently arrived in the spirit world and taken up their abode in this city.

As they were all new-comers, and but slightly acquainted with our manners and customs, we gave this celebration to surprise them, and also as a token of our appreciation of their efforts to spiritualize humanity; for art we regard as one of our most spiritualizing agencies.

In the centre of the park, I had forgotten to state, we have a temple erected, somewhat resembling those of ancient Greece, and which is for the use of orators and public singers. This temple was beautifully decorated with garlands and paintings by spirit artists. Within it were seated the visitors and a few friends, and without were stationed musicians, with curious instruments of melody, such as are unknown to earth.