The Mary Goffe Case

Mary, the wife of John Goffe, of Rochester, being flicked with a long illness, removed to her father's house at West Mulling, which is about nine miles distance from her own.  There she died June the 4th, this year, 1691.

The day before her departure she grew very impatiently desirous to see her children, whom she had left at home to the care of a nurse. She prayed her husband to hire a horse, for she must go home and die with the children. When they persuaded her to the contrary, telling her she was not fit to be taken out of her bed, nor able to sit on horseback, she entreated them, however, to try. "If I cannot sit," said she, "I will lie all along upon the horse; for I must go to see my poor babes."

A minister who lives in town was with her at ten o'clock that night, to whom she expressed good hopes in the mercies of God, and a willingness to die: "But,” said she, "it is my misery that I cannot see my children." Between one and two o'clock in the morning she fell into a trance.  One widow Turner, who watched with her  that night, says that her eyes were open and fixed and jaw fallen. She put her hand upon her mouth and nostrils, but could perceive no breath.  She thought her to be in a fit; and doubted whether she was dead or alive.

The next morning this dying woman told her mother she had been at home with her children.  "That is impossible," said the mother, "for you have been in bed all the while," "Yes," Replied the other, "but I was with them last night when I was asleep."

The nurse at Rochester, widow Alexander by name, affirms, and says she will take her oath on it before a magistrate, and receive the sacrament upon it. That a little before two o’clock that morning she saw the likeness of the said Mary Goffe came out of the next chamber.  (where the elder child lay in a bed by itself,) the door being left open, and stood by her bedside for about a quarter of an hour; the younger child was there lying by her. Her eyes moved and her mouth went but she said nothing. The nurse moreover, says that she was perfectly awake; it was then daylight, being the longest day of the year. She sat up in her bed and looked steadfastly upon the apparition.  In that time she heard the bridge-clock strike two, and in a while after said, "In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, what art thou?"

Thereupon the appearance removed, and went away; she slipped on her clothes and followed, but what became of it she cannot tell. Then, and not before, she began to be grievously affrighted, and went out of doors and walked upon the wharf (the house is just on the river-side) for some hours, only going in now and then to look at the children. At five-a-clock she went to a neighbor's house, and knocked at the door; but they would not rise.  At six she went again; then they rose, and let her in.  She related to them all that had passed: They would persuade her she was mistaken or dreamt. But she confidently affirmed, "If ever I saw her in all my life, I saw her this night.

One of those to whom she made the relation (Mary the wife of John Sweet) had a messenger come from Mulling that forenoon, to let her know her neighbor Goffe was dying, and desired to speak with her.  She went over the same day, and found her just departing.  The mother, among other discourse, related to her how much her daughter had longed to see the children, and said that she had seen them.  This brought to Mrs. Sweet's mind what the nurse had told her that morning; for till then she had not thought to mention it, but disguised it, rather, as the woman's disturbed imagination.
 
The substance of this I had related to me by John Carpenter, the father of the deceased, the next day after her burial.  July the second, I fully discoursed the matter with the nurse and two neighbors to whose house she went that morning.  Two days after, I had it from the mother, the minister that was with her in the evening, and the woman who sat up with her that last night.  They all agree in the same story and every one helps to strengthen the other's testimony. They appear to be sober, intelligent persons, far enough off from designing to impose a cheat upon the world, or to manage a lie; and what temptation they could lie under for so doing, I cannot conceive.

                                      The mother and son

"One night, soon after I was in bed, I fell asleep, and dreamed I was going to London.  I thought it would not be much out of the way to go through Glouchester and call on my friends there.  Accordingly, I set out, but remembered nothing that happened by the way till I came to my father's house; when I went to the front door and tried to open it, but found it fast.  Then I went to the back door, which I opened, and went in; but, finding all the family were in bed, I crossed the rooms only, went up-stairs, and entered the chamber where my father and mother were in bed. 

As I went by the side of the bed on which my father lay, I found him asleep, or thought he was so; then I went to the other side, and, having just turned the foot of the bed, I found my mother awake, to whom I (said these words:-'Mother, I am going on a long journey, and am come to bid you good-bye.' Upon which she answered, in a fright, 'Oh, dear son, thou art dead!' With this I awoke, and took no notice of it more than a common dream, except that it appeared to me very perfect. In a few days after, as soon as a letter could reach me, I received one by post from my father. Upon the receipt of which I was a little surprised, and concluded something extraordinary must have happened, as it was but a short time before I had a letter from my friends and all were well.

Upon opening it I was more surprised still; for my father addressed me as though I was dead. Desiring me, if alive, or who ever's hands the letter might fall into, to write immediately; but if the letter should find me living they concluded I should not live long, and gave this as the reason of their fears. That on a certain night, naming it, after they were in bed, my father asleep and my mother awake, she heard somebody try to open the front door. Finding it fast, he went to the back door, which he opened, came in, and came directly though the rooms up-stairs, and she perfectly knew it to be my step.

I came to her bedside, and spoke to her these words' Mother, I am going on a long journey, and have come to bid you good-bye.' Upon which she answered me, in a fright, 'Oh, dear son, thou art dead!' which were the circumstances and words of my dream.  But she heard nothing more, and saw nothing more; neither did I in my dream. Upon this she awoke, and told my father what had passed; but he endeavored to appease her, persuading her it was only a dream. She insisted it was no dream, for that she was as perfectly awake as ever she was, and had not the least inclination to sleep since she was in bed.

From these circumstances I am apt to think it was at the very same instant when my dream happened, though the distance between us was about one hundred miles; but of this I cannot speak positively. This occurred while I was at the academy at Ottery, Devon, in the year 1754; and at this moment every circumstance is fresh upon my mind. I have, since, had frequent opportunities of talking over the affair with my mother, and the whole was as fresh upon her mind as it was upon mine. I have often thought that her sensations, as to this matter, were stronger than mine. What may appear strange is, that I cannot remember anything remarkable happening hereupon. This is only a plain, simple narrative of a matter of fact."

                   Teachings of Silver Birch
                                     DEBATE WITH A MINISTER

"I am certain I was not talking to any of the sitters. There was beyond doubt some other entity present and he knew his Bible, too." These remarks were made by a Methodist minister who, while attending a conference in London, was invited to meet Silver Birch and to submit to him any questions he desired. After the first sitting, the minister was so intrigued that he wanted another talk and the next time he prepared his questions beforehand.  This chapter presents a new facet of the Silver Birch personality, for the guide is disclosed as a debater of no mean order.

HUNDREDS of Methodist ministers, old and young, were gathered at their annual conference at the Central Hall, Westminster.  They had been discussing every aspect of their teaching, and work, for nearly two weeks.
Now and then, though only in conversation, "Spiritualism had cropped up.  One Methodist minister,, who called on Hamen Swaffer, asked how he could go to a seance.  He had read Doyle's book, The New Revelation, but, otherwise, he knew little.

"You can come to my home circle tomorrow night," said Swaffer. "During the sitting, Silver Birch,, one of the guides, will control a trance medium. You can ask him any question you like, argue, contradict, and differ, say anything you please. But do not go away afterwards and complain that something was not explained to you. You can ask anything.  We will print the story, but omit your name. Then you will not get into a row, unless you want to.

The parson, charming, most intelligent young man obviously imbued with the love of service went to the seance.  In due course, Silver Birch came through.
"May the inspiration of the Great White Spirit dwell among you all," he began, "and may you all respond to all that He would have you do, so that each one of you may feel you are a part of the Great White Spirit. Take that part with you wherever you go, and show it to all the children of the Great White Spirit".

Then, addressing the parson, he explained: "My medium is filled with the power of what you call 'the Holy Spirit.' That makes him 'speak in tongues'. I am one of those who have already been resurrected."
"What do you think of the other world?" asked the clergyman, beginning his search for knowledge of spirit teaching.

"It is very much like your world," was the reply, "except that our world is a world of effects, and yours is a world of causes.
"Did you have any fear when you left this world?"
"No.  All we Red Indians were psychic, and we understood it was nothing to be afraid of. We were psychic like the man who founded your religion Wesley.  He was moved by the power of the spirit.  You know that?"
"Yes," said the minister.

"But they do not move by the 'power of the spirit' now," went on the guide.  "There are many links in the chain which leads to the Great White Spirit, and the lowest ones in your world are linked to the highest angels, as you call them, in the world of spirit.  No one in  your world is so bad that he is not in touch with the Great White Spirit,

 Whom you call God.  "
"Do you know one another on the Other Side?" asked the Methodist.
"How do you know them in your world?" was the reply.
"With my eyes," said the parson; "I see with them."
"But you do not see with your physical eyes," persisted the guide.  "You see with the spirit."

"Yes," admitted the minister.  "I see with my mentality, which, I suppose, is part of the spirit."
"I see with my spirit, too," explained the guide.  "I see your spirit, and I also see your physical body.  But that is only a shadow.  The light is the spirit."
"What is the greatest sin people commit on earth?" asked the Methodist.
"There are many, many sins," was the answer; "but the greatest sin of all is the sin against the Great Spirit."
"Tell him what that means," interposed a sitter.

"It is those who know, and deny the Great Spirit," explained the spirit.  "That is the biggest sin of all."
"That is what they call 'the sin against the Holy Ghost,' said one of the circle.
"They call it 'the sin against the Holy Ghost' in the big book," replied the guide; "but it is really the sin against the spirit."

"What do you think of the Revised Version?" asked the parson "Which is better, the Revised or the Authorized?"
"The words do not matter, said the guide.  "It is what you do, MY son, that counts.  The truth of the Great White Spirit is found in many books and also in the hearts of those who try to serve Him, wherever they are, and whoever they might be.  That is the greatest Bible of all."

"Suppose they do not get converted before they die?" asked the clergyman.  "What happens then"
"I do not understand what you mean by converted, said Silver Birch.  "Put it more plainly.  "
"Suppose a man lives a wicked life, and passes on," said the minister.  "Another man makes a mental resolve to do right.  What will the difference between the two men be in the other realm?"

I will tell you from your own book," said the spirit. "That which a man sows, that shall he reap!  You cannot change that. You bring into our world what you are not what you think you are, and not what you try to show other people you are.  It is what you are inside. You will be able to see it for yourself when you come here."
"He dreams dreams," said the guide, meaning the parson, to Swaffer.

"Do you mean he is psychic?" asked Swaffer.
"Yes,” was the answer.  "Why did you bring him here?"
"Oh! He called on me,, " said Swaffer.
"He is being led step by step," said the guide, "and the light must be shown gradually."

When, in the pages which follow, you read Silver Birch’s teaching, you must understand that it is all written down in the dark by a reporter who uses braille notepaper, and who, expert stenographer though he is, is often tested severely to. keep pace with the rapidity of Silver Birch's speech. On no occasion has a single word to be altered. Silver Birch's words flow in perfect English. Only the punctuation marks have to be put in, and even for these there is always a natural place, which could not be mistaken
.
Silver Birch's philosophy, as you will easily understands is that of a Pantheist, a man who realizes that God is found in Nature itself, that there is an unalterable Law which governs everything, and that God is the Law.
"You are within the Great Spirit," says Silver Birch, and the Great Spirit is within you." So we learn we are all potential gods, part of the great creative principle which is everything.

Yet Silver Birch does not stop at unapplied philosophy.  He forces home, always, the lesson that we are here to do a job. He sums up religion in the one word "Service," and strives to teach us, clumsy instruments though we may be, that we are in this world so that we may make an end of war, abolish poverty and hasten the time when God's bounty will be spread in all its lavishness among all the peoples of the world.

"Our allegiance," says Silver Birth, "is not to a Creed, not to a Book, not to a Church, but to the Great Spirit of Life and to his eternal natural laws."
So it is that the members of his circle, six in number, include three Jews and three Gentiles, who find in Spiritualism no racial or creedal difference.  Three were Agnostics and a fourth was a Wesleyan minister who, just before he joined our circle, had left Methodism because no longer could he accept its teachings.

Sometimes, to vary the sittings, Silver Birch allows some other spirit to control his medium.  So Northcliffe, Galsworthy, Hall Caine, Gilbert Parker, Horace Greeley, Dick Sheppard, Abraham Lincoln and personal friends of the sitters have visited us.  Still, all that is for another book
 ....
During my years of sitting with Silver Birch, I have never known him to forget anything, although we may do so.
And never, by any syllable does he depart from his self-chosen mission to instruct the children of men in a simpler and more beneficent way of life.

Maurice Barbanell passed to spirit July 1981.  He was the medium for Silver Birch, which started in 1920 at the age of 18.

   

 This is the second meeting of Silver Birch and the Minister

"Is it possible for people' on earth to live perfect lives, to be sanctified and made holy?" was the minister's first question at the second seance.  "Is it possible for us to love everybody?"

"No, it is not possible, but you can try," said Silver Birch. "All the efforts you make are very important in the building of your character. If you never were angry, never bitter, and never lost your temper, you would cease to be human. The Law is that you are put here to develop your spirit, so that it can grow and grow. It never stops growing in your world or in mine.

"What did Jesus mean when he said: 'Be ye perfect even as your Father, which is in Heaven, is perfect'?"
"He meant you must try to be perfect," replied the guide.  "That is the ideal you should try to express in your life to express the Great White Spirit that is in you."

"The passage I quoted occurs in the last verse of the 5th chapter of St. Matthew," explained the visitor.  "It comes after Christ was speaking about universal love, and he said that 'certain people love their neighbors and some people love their friends, but be ye therefore perfect, ye are the children of God.' The idea is that God loves everybody, and we should love everybody. Do you think that Christ would have given us a command which we could not carry out?"
"You want to make all the world like the Nazarene!" exclaimed Silver Birch.  "Do you think that he lived a perfect life in your world?"

Yes, I think he lived a perfect life."
"Do you think he was never angry,"
"I think he was disgusted. with certain things that went on." "Do you think he was never angry?  Persisted the guide.  "I think he was never angry in the sense that it is wrong to be angry."
"That is not the question I asked you.  I asked you whether he was ever angry; not could you justify it, because you can always justify anything."

One of the sitters recalled the incident when Jesus turned the moneychangers out of the temple.
"That is what I meant," said the spirit.  "You must not try to read into the life of the Nazarene something that did not happen.  He was very angry when he saw people in your world desecrate the temple of the Great White Spirit, and he took whips to whip them out.  That was anger.  I do not say it was not justified, but it was anger, and anger is a human passion.
"I only tell you that to show you that he had some human qualities.  When you try to follow the example of the Nazarene, you must understand that he was a human being in whom there was a great manifestation of the Great White Spirit a greater manifestation in his case than there has been in other cases.  Is that clear?" "Yes."

"I am only trying to help you. You must not think that the way to please the Nazarene is to put him on a very high pedestal where nobody else can reach him.  You please him only when you make him like you and like every other man in the physical world. He does not want to be above. He wants to be with them. He wants to be an example, so that everyone else can do the things he did.  If you put him so high that no one in your world can follow him then all his life is in vain."

"Do you think we have free will?" asked the minister, changing the subject.
"Yes.  Free will is the law."
"Don't you think that sometimes a man is made to do things under impulses over which he has no control?  Is he impelled to do things, or has he free will?"
"What do you think?" queried the guide.
"I think we are free agents," said the minister.
"You are all given free will," Silver Birch explained, "except that you must live all your lives within the Law of the Great White Spirit.  The laws, which are laid down by His love, for the use of all His children, are there, and you cannot change them.  Within all these limits you are free."

"If we are free, then sin is a terrible thing," declared the visitor.  "If a man sins willfully, it seems more terrible than if he were impelled to do it."
"I can only tell you this: Whatever wrong is done in your world, the one who does that wrong must put it right.  If he does not put it right in your world, then he must put it right from our world."
"Do you think that some people have very strong hereditary tendencies in things that are not ideal?" asked the Methodist.  "It is easier for some people to be good than others."

"That is a very hard question," confessed the spirit, " because each one of you has free will.  When you do that which is not right, inside your heart you know it is not right.
Whether you resist it or not depends on the character which you have grown for yourself.  The sin is bad or worse only according to the harm that it does."

This immediately brought the question: "Doesn't that cut across the idea that sin is, an intellectual thing?  If sin is only bad in relation to its consequences, then sins of thought do not count at all."

"All sin is sin," was the reply.  "Whether you sin with the body or the mind or the spirit, it is all sin.  You asked just now whether man acts on impulse.  Where does the impulse come from?" "From thought." "Where do the thoughts come from," asked Silver Birch. The minister hesitated and said: "The good thoughts come from God." "Where do the bad ones come from" persisted the spirit. "I don't know."

"The Great White Spirit is in everything," declared Silver Birch, "in that which is wrong and in that which is right.  He is in the sun and in the storm; in everything that is beautiful and everything that is ugly.  He is in the sky and the ocean, the thunder and the lightning not only in beauty and goodness, but in sin and ugliness.  Do not you understand; you cannot limit the Great White Spirit?  The whole world is His creation, and His spirit is everywhere.

"You cannot cut off anything and say that does not belong to the Great White Spirit.  You must not say that the sunshine comes from the Great White Spirit and the rain, which destroys the crops, comes from the devil.  The Great White Spirit is in everything.  You are like an instrument, which can receive thoughts and send out thoughts, but the thoughts that you receive depend upon your character and your spirit.  If you live what you call a perfect life, then you can only receive the perfect thoughts. 

But because you are human, you receive all kinds of thoughts--just those thoughts, which your soul and your mind are capable of receiving.  Is that clear to you?"
"Yes, I think so," was the minister's comment.  "Suppose anyone gets on in life and finds that he has received and followed the bad and neglected the good.  He is about to pass over and his life is worrying him.  What is your opinion of the peace which people profess to experience when they accept the words, 'By faith are ye saved'? What do you think about the doctrine of conversion?"

Without hesitation the spirit replied: "I quote words from your book, 'What shall it profit a man if be shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?' Then there are some more words, which say: 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you.' You know those words Well, but do you understand them?  Do you realize that they are real, they happen, they are the Law?  You know those words which say: 'Whatsoever a man soweth, he shall reap.'

"How can you cheat the Law of the Great White Spirit?  Do you think a man who all his physical life has neglected his opportunities to help his fellow beings, can, on his deathbed, be converted and his spirit alter in one second?  Do you think he can blot out all the things, which he should have done, which register themselves on his spirit body?

"Do you think that in the sight of the Great White Spirit a man who has neglected his own spirit is on an equal basis with the man who strives all his physical life to work for the Great White Spirit and for His children?  Do you think the Law of the Great White Spirit can be just if, because a man says he is sorry, be could wipe out all his sins?  Do you think so,"
To this the minister said: "I think that God, in Christ, has provided an escape.  Jesus said--
"But Silver Birch interrupted: "My son, I asked you a very straight question. 
I want a very straight answer.

I do not want you to tell me what it says in a book, because I know what it says there.  What do you think?" "It does not seem fair, but it is just there that the greatness of God's love comes in," said the cleric. "If you walk down this road, you come to a big building where they administer the laws of man," declared the guide.  "If the law were administered as I have just explained it, that a man who sins all his life and the man who tries to do good all his life are equal in the eyes of the law of Man, would you say that the laws of man were just?"

I do not say that the man who has walked in the straight road all his life," the minister replied, "and has loved everybody, and has acted in an upright way, and trusted in Christ all his life, I do not say--"
Again the spirit interrupted: "He sows, and what he sows, he reaps.  You cannot escape the Law.  You cannot cheat the Law."

"But what message have I got for a dying man if I have to tell him be has made a mess of things and must make up for it?" the parson asked.
"Tell him this from me," Silver Birch answered.  "If he is a real man, in whom there is something of the Great White Spirit, then he, as a man, will want to put right all the things which he put wrong.  If he wants to escape from the consequences of all his own actions, then I say he is not a man; he is only a coward."
"When a man confesses his sins, don't you think he is doing a thing that not everyone has the courage to do?" was the next question.

"It is only a step in the right direction, said Silver Birch.  "But the confession does not wipe out the sin.  He had free will, and he chose to do wrong instead of doing right.  He cannot escape the consequences.  He must put it right.  He only cheats himself by thinking he can say a magic formula to gain escape.  He must reap what he has sown; that is the Law."

The    minister persisted: "But Jesus said: 'Come unto me and I will give you rest'." The    spirit asked the minister if he knew these words: 'The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.' " Then he added: "You cannot take all the words and say that you must accept their literal meaning, because if you do, there are many things in that book which you do not do today. You knew that."

Once again the parson quoted: "Jesus said: 'The good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.' I always preach the doctrine of forgiveness, implying that if a person accepts the forgiveness that Christ offers, and at the same time he tacitly admits that the whole law of Christ governs his life, his life is then one great offering of love."
Then Silver Birch forced home this lesson: "The Great Spirit has implanted in you some of His own reason.  I plead with you to use that reason. 

If you do anyone a big wrong and you confess it, that confession helps your spirit, but it does not alter the fact that you have done some wrong, Until you have put it right in the eyes of the Great White Spirit, the sin will remain.  That is the Law, my son.  You cannot alter laws, not even by quoting words from books, which you say the Nazarene said.

"I tried to explain to you before.  Not all those words were said by him, but many of them were added afterwards. When you say ’The Nazarene said', you mean you think the Nazarene said those things. What I want you to try and understand is that the same spirit, the same inspiration, the same force of the Great White Spirit which made the Nazarene the great master that he is, is waiting for you, if you open your heart to receive it from the Great White Spirit.
"You are apart of the Great White Spirit.  All His love, all His power, all His wisdom, knowledge and truth are there waiting for you.  You must not go back into the past for the Great White Spirit.  He is here now; just as much the Great White Spirit today as He was in the time of the Nazarene, and the same powers He had then, He has now.

"There are very few instruments through whom He can give His teaching and His power.  Why should your Christianity be dependent upon one human being of two thousand years ago?  Why cannot all you men of God receive the same inspiration that he did?  Why must you go back to what he said?"

"I talk of the work of Christ in me," was the parson's reply.  "I believe it is possible to have inspiration."
"Why do you limit the Great White Spirit to the Nazarene and to one book?" inquired the spirit.  "Do you think that the whole of the Great White Spirit was expressed in one person or one book?  I am not a Christian.  I lived many years before the Nazarene came into your world. Did not the Great White Spirit make any allowance for my spirit to enter into His peace?

"Do you think all the Great White Spirit can be put into a few pages in one book?  Do you think that when that book was finished, He had no more inspiration for His children?  Do you think you have come to the end of His power when you have turned the last page of your Bible?"

"I hope not," said the minister.  "I sometimes feel that I am inspired."
"One day you shall go unto the Father also," declared the spirit, "into one of those many, many mansions that you are preparing for yourself in your world today.  I want you, who are a man of God, to understand that you cannot limit God, He is everywhere.  The lowest criminal in the lowest haunt of vice is linked with the Great White Spirit as much as the highest saint who ever lived in your world. 

The Great White Spirit is in each one of you.  If you try to express that spirit, and if you will make your heart open, the Great White spirit will pour through you the power and the revelation that will bring light and comfort to all those who are in your corner of the vineyard."

"How do you explain the fact that the only calendar that has survived to any extent is the Christian calendars was the next question.
Silver Birch replied: "Who told you that?  Have you not heard of the calendar of the Jewish peoples in many other places there are still calendars in existence that date back from the beginning of their own religion.  I do not try to belittle the work of the Nazarene. I know the work he dose, and I know the Nazarene dose not want to be worshipped as the Great White Spirit. The whole value of his life is as an example to be followed. Until the worshipping of the Nazarene stops there will be little inspiration in your Christianity.”

The minister then said: "We cannot find out when it was decided to make the date of Jesus' birth the beginning of the calendar.  Can you tell me?"
"I must answer in my own way," said the spirit. "A few days ago, a member of this circle went to the North. There he stayed with many of the children of the Great White Spirit. They are not people in high places. They are men who, if they have physical work, work very, very hard.  When they have finished, often after digging deep into the bowels of the earth, they receive as recompense a few physical pennies.  They live in what you call houses, which are a disgrace to your Christian civilization.

"In the same town there is what you call a house of God. This house of God is so tall that the houses near by, when God's sun shines are in the shadow. They have more darkness in their lives than if the cathedral was not there. Do you think that is right?"
"I used to live in Durham," said the parson.

"I know," was the answer. "That is why I told you."
"I am very sorry that they have to live in those houses," the cleric declared.
"Do you think the Nazarene would be pleased that they should?" said Silver Birch.  "Do you think he would ask questions about the calendar as long as there were houses like that, and men who have to work like that, men who only have a few physical pennies, while all the time there are others to whom thousands of physical pennies do not matter?

"Do you think that he would ask for money for cathedrals and ask about calendars and talk about good books when people lived like that? What do you think of a Christianity that goes on using his name and still allows these things to operate in this country that is called Christian?

"You ask questions about texts.  Religion has much more important and greater work to do.  Do you not see that the Great White Spirit wants all His children to receive His bounty?  In some parts of your world they are throwing away the necessities that other people starve for.  Can you talk of Christianity while Christians do these things?
"I have a much closer touch with the Nazarene than you imagine. 

I have seen his tears as he watches, because so many of his people and his ministers close their eyes to all the disgrace which goes on in the shadow of their own churches.  How can you be content to build churches which are supposed to be the houses of God, fill them with jewels and stained-glass windows, and boast of the building when all the time, in their shadows, there dwell children of the Great White Spirit who have not even necessities of life?

"Many of them have not even a proper place on which to put their poor tired bodies when they have worked all day and sometimes into the night for a few physical pennies that are not enough for their bread.  I do not speak with any bitterness to you.  I am only filled with a big love for you, and would do anything to serve you.  But I am in the spirit world and have few opportunities of talking to men like you, who can go out into your world and stir up things so that you can put right so much that is wrong.

"I want you to understand there are more important things than texts in the Bible.  Not every one that saith, 'Lord, Lord but he that doeth the will of my father.' He taught you that many years ago.  Why cannot you make all people see that is the only thing that matters?  It is what you do that counts
.
"As long as you countenance all the wars, the iniquity, the starvation, poverty, and unemployment, you are all failing in your Christianity, and you are not following the example of the Nazarene.  You have come away from a big conference, where you have joined, in the last twelve months, three sections of your church.  Unless when they are united they strive in unity to alter those blots on the Law of the Great White Spirit, your unity is nothing.  I speak very frankly to you.  I do not want any misunderstanding.

"Some years ago, we threw open our schools and collected money in the churches to provide things for the unemployed," said the minister.  "We cannot do everything, but, according to the number of people who go to church, don't you think we try very bard?"

"I know your heart is good," the spirit commented, "otherwise I would not come back to talk to you again.  I see in you an instrument, which can be of service.  The people who go to your churches are very few, but did not the Nazarene teach you to go out into the highways and byways?  You must not wait for people to come to you.  You must go to them."
 

                                                      The Rescue
                          This story was taken from Robert Dale Owens Book
                               “Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World”
                                                    Published in 1860

Mr. Robert Bruce, originally descended from some branch of the Scottish family of that name, was born, in humble circumstances, in the late 1700's, at Torbay, in the south of England, and there bred up to a seafaring life.
When about thirty years of age, to wit, in the year 1828, he was first mate on a bark trading between Liverpool and St. John's, New Brunswick.

On one of her voyages bound westward, being then some five or six weeks out and having neared the eastern portion of the Banks of Newfoundland. The captain and mate had been on deck at noon, taking an observation of the sun; after which they both descended to calculate their day's work.

The cabin, a small one, was immediately at the stern of the vessel, and the short stairway descending to it ran athwart-ships. Immediately opposite to this stairway, just beyond a small square landing, was the mate's state-room; and from that landing there were two doors, close to each other, the one opening aft into the cabin, the other, fronting the stairway, into the state-room. The desk in the stateroom was in the forward part of it, close to the door; so that anyone sitting at it and looking over his shoulder could see into the cabin.

The mate, absorbed in his calculation, which did not result as he expected, varying considerable from the dead reckoning, had not noticed the captain's motions. When he had completed his calculations, he called out, without looking around, "I make our latitude and longitude so and so. Can that be right?  How is yours?"
Receiving no reply, he repeated his question, glancing over his shoulder and perceiving, as he thought, the captain busy writing at his slate.  Still no answer. There upon he rose; and, as he fronted the cabin door the figure he had mistaken for the captain raised his head and disclosed to the astonished mate the features of an entire stranger.

Bruce was no coward, but,as he met that fixed gaze looking directly at him in grave silence, and became assured that it was no one whom he had ever seen before, it was too much for him; and, instead of stopping to question the seeming intruder, he rushed upon deck in such evident alarm that it instantly attracted the captain's attention.  "Why, Mr. Bruce," said the later, "What in the world is the matter with you?" "The matter, sir?  Who is that at your desk?" "No one that I know of." "But there is, sir: there's a stranger there." "A stranger!  Why, man, you must be dreaming. You must have seen the steward there, or the second mate.  Who else would venture down without orders?" "But sir, he was sitting in your arm-chair, fronting the door, writing on your slate. 

Then he looked up full in my face; and, if ever I saw a man plainly and distinctly in this world, I saw him" "Him!  Whom?" "God knows, sir: I don't.  I saw a man, and a man I had never seen in my life before." "You must be going crazy, Mr. Bruce. A stranger, and we nearly six weeks out!" "I know, sir; but then I saw him." "Go down and see who it is." Bruce hesitated.  "I never was a believer in ghosts," he said; "but, if the truth must be told, sir, I'd rather not face it alone-" "Come, come, man. Go down at once and don't make a fool of yourself before the crew." "I hope you've always found me willing to do what's reasonable," Bruce replied, changing color; "but if it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather we should both go together-"

The captain descended the stairs, and the mate followed him.  Nobody in the cabin! They examined the staterooms.  Not a soul to be found! "Well, Mr. Bruce," said the captain, "did I not tell you you had been dreaming?"

"It's all very well to say so, sir; but if I didn’t see that man writing on your slate, may I never see my home and family again!" "Ah! Writing on the slate!  Then it should be there still. And the captain took it up.  "By God," he exclaimed, "here's something, sure enough!  Is that your writing, Mr. Bruce?" The mate took the slate; and there, in plain, legible characters, stood the words, "STEER TO THE NOR'WEST."

"Have you been trifling with me, sir?" added the captain, in a stern manner. "On my word as a man and a sailor, sir," replied Bruce, "I know no more of this matter than you do.  I have told you the exact truth.
The captain sat down at his desk, the slate before him, in deep thought. At last, turning the.slate over and pushing it towards Bruce, he said, "Write down, Steer to the nor’west.”

The mate complied; and the captain, after narrowly comparing the two handwriting, said, "Mr. Bruce, go and tell the second mate to come down here." He came; and, at the captain's request, he also wrote the same words. So did the steward.  So, in succession, did every man of the crew who could write at all.  But not one of the various hands resembled in any degree the mysterious writing.

When the crew retired, the captain sat deep in thought. "Could anyone have been stowed away?" at last he said.  "The ship must be searched; and if I don't find the fellow he must be a good hand at hide-and-seek. Order up all hands." Every nook and corner of the vessel, from stern to stern, was thoroughly searched, and with all the eagerness of excited curiosity, for the report had gone out that a stranger had shown himself on board; but not a living soul beyond the crew and the officers was found.

Returning to the cabin after their fruitless search, "Mr.Bruce," said the captain, "what the devil do you make of all this?" "Can't tell, sir.  I saw the man write; you see the writing.  There must be something in it."
"Well, it would seem so.  We have the wind free, and I have a good mind to keep her away and see what will come of it. I surely would, sir, if I were in your place.  It's only a few hours lost, at the worst." "Well, we'll see.  Go on and give the course nor’west. And, Mr. Bruce," he added, as the mate rose to go, "have a lookout aloft, and let it be a hand you can depend on."

His orders were obeyed.  About three o'clock the lookout reported an iceberg nearly ahead, and, shortly after, what he thought was a vessel of some kind close to it. As they approached, the captain's glass disclosed the fact that it was a dismantled ship, apparently frozen to the ice, and with a good many human beings on it.  Shortly after, they hove to, and sent out the boats to the relief of the sufferers.

It proved to be a vessel from Quebec, bound to Liverpool, with passengers on board.  She had got entangled in the ice, and finally frozen fast, and had passed several weeks in a most critical situation.  She was stove, her decks swept,-in fact, a mere wreck; all her provisions and almost all her water gone.  Her crew and passengers had lost all hopes of being saved, and their gratitude for the unexpected rescue was proportionately great.

As one of the men who had been brought away in the third boat that had reached the wreck was ascending the ship's side, the mate, catching a glimpse of his face, started back in consternation.  It was the very face he had seen, three or four hours before, looking up at him from the captain's desk. At first he tried to persuade him self it might be fancy; but the more he examined the man the more sure he became that he was right.  Not only the face, but the person and clothes and dress, exactly corresponded.

As soon as the exhausted crew and famished passengers were cared for, and the bark on her course again, the mate called the captain aside. "It seems that was not a ghost I saw today, sir: the man is alive." "What do you mean? Who’s alive?"

"Why, sir, one of the passengers we have just saved is the same man I saw writing on your slate at noon. I would swear to it in a court of justice." "Upon my word, Mr. Bruce” replied the captain, "this gets more and more singular. Let us go and see this man." They found him in conversation with the captain of the rescued ship. They both came forward, and expressed, in the warmest terms, their gratitude for deliverance from a horrible fate, -slow-coming death by exposure and starvation.

The captain replied that he had but done what he was certain they would have done for him under the same circumstances, and asked them both to step down into the cabin. Then turning to the passenger, he said, "I hope, sir, you will not think I am trifling with you ; but I would be much obliged to you if you would write a few words on this slate." And he handed him the slate with the side up on which the mysterious writing was not.  "I will do anything you ask," replied the passenger; "but what shall I write?"

"A few words are all I want.  Suppose you write, “Steer to the nor’west.” The passenger, evidently puzzled to make out the motive for such a request, complied, however, with a smile. The captain took up the slate and examined it closely; then, stepping aside so as to conceal the slate from the passenger, he turned it over, and gave it to him again with the other side up.

"You say that is your handwriting?" said he. "I need not say so," rejoined
the other, looking at it, "for you saw me write it." "And this?" said the captain, turning the slate over. The man looked first at one writing, then the other, quite confounded.  At last, "What is the meaning of this?" he said.  "I only wrote one of these.  Who wrote the other?"

"That's more than I can tell you, sir.  My mate here says you wrote it, sitting at this desk, at noon today."
The captain of the wreck and the passenger looked at each other, exchanging glances of intelligence and surprise; and the former asked the latter," Did you dream that you wrote on this slate?” "No, sir, not that I remember." "You speak of dreaming," said the captain of the bark." What was this gentleman about at noon today?"
"Captain," rejoined the other, "the whole thing is most mysterious and extraordinary; and I had intended to speak to you about it as soon as we got a little quiet. 

This gentleman," (pointing to the passenger,) "being much exhausted, fell into a heavy sleep, or what seemed such, some time before noon.  After an hour or more, he awoke, and said to me, 'Captain, we shall be relieved this very day., When I asked him what reason he had for saying so, he replied that he had dreamed that he was on a bark, and that she was coming to our rescue. He described her appearance and rig; and to our utter astonishment, when your vessel hove in sight she corresponded exactly to his description of her.

We had not put much faith in what he said; yet still we hoped there might be something in it, for drowning men, you know, will ketch at straws. As it has turned out, I cannot doubt that it was all arranged, in some incomprehensible way, by an overruling Providence, so that we might be saved. To Him be all thanks for his goodness to us.

There is not a doubt," rejoined the other captain, "that the writing on the slate, let it have come there as it may, saved all your lives. I was steering at the time considerable south of west, and I altered my course to nor’west, and had a lookout aloft, to see what would come of it. But you say," he added, turning to the passenger, "that you did not dream of writing on the slate?" "No, sir. I have no recollection whatever of doing so. I got the impression that the bark I saw in my dream was coming to rescue us; but how that impression came I can not tell.

There is another very strange thing about it," he added.  "Everything here on board seems to me quite familiar; yet I am very sure I never was in your vessel before. It is all a puzzle to me.  What did your mate see?"Thereupon MR. Bruce related to them all the circumstances above detailed.  The conclusion they finally arrived at was that it was a special interposition of Providence to save them from what seemed a hopeless fate. The above narrative was communicated to me by Capt.  J.S.Clarke, of the schooner Julia Hallock,(In July, 1859. The Julia Hallock was then at the foot of Rutgers Slip, New York. 

She trades between New York and St.Jago in the island of Cuba.) Who had it directly from Mr. Bruce himself.  They sailed together for seventeen months, in the years 1836 and 1837 so that Captain Clarke had the story from the mate about eight years after the occurrence.  He has since lost sight of him, and does not know whether he is yet alive.  All that he has heard of him since they were shipmates is, that he continued to trade to New Brunswick, that he became the master of the brig Comet, and that she was lost at sea.

I asked Captain Clarke if he knew Bruce well, and what sort of a man he was. "As truthful and straightforward a man," he replied, "as ever I met in all my life.  We were as intimate as brothers; and two men can't be together, shut up for seventeen months in the same ship, without getting to know whether they can trust one another's word or not.  He always spoke of the circumstances in terms of reverence, as of an incident that seemed to bring him nearer to God and to another world.  I'd stake my life upon it that he told me no lie."

Edward William Bok (1863–1930). The Americanization of Edward Bok. 1921.

The First Job: Fifty Cents a Week

   THE ELDER Bok did not find his “lines cast in pleasant places” in the United States. He found himself, professionally, unable to adjust the methods of his own land and of a lifetime to those of a new country. As a result the fortunes of the transplanted family did not flourish, and Edward soon saw his mother physically failing under burdens to which her nature was not accustomed nor her hands trained.
 
   He and his brother decided to relieve their mother in the housework by rising early in the morning, building the fire, preparing breakfast, and washing the dishes before they went to school. After school they gave up their play hours, and swept and scrubbed, and helped their mother to prepare the evening meal and wash the dishes afterward. It was a curious coincidence that it should fall upon Edward thus to get a first-hand knowledge of woman’s housework which was to stand him in such practical stead in later years.
     
   It was not easy for the parents to see their boys thus forced to do work which only a short while before had been done by a retinue of servants. And the capstone of humiliation seemed to be when Edward and his brother, after having for several mornings found no kindling wood or coal to build the fire, decided to go out of evenings with a basket and pick up what wood they could find in neighboring lots, and the bits of coal spilled from the coal-bin of the grocery-store, or left on the curbs before houses where coal had been delivered. The mother remonstrated with the boys, although in her heart she knew that the necessity was upon them. But Edward had been started upon his Americanization career, and answered: “This is America, where one can do anything if it is honest. So long as we don’t steal the wood or coal, why shouldn’t we get it?” And, turning away, the saddened mother said nothing.      
   But while the doing of these homely chores was very effective in relieving the untrained and tired mother, it added little to the family income. Edward looked about and decided that the time had come for him, young as he was, to begin some sort of wage-earning. But how and where? The answer he found one afternoon when standing before the shop-window of a baker in the neighborhood. The owner of the bakery, who had just placed in the window a series of trays filled with buns, tarts, and pies, came outside to look at the display. He found the hungry boy wistfully regarding the tempting-looking wares.      
   “Look pretty good, don’t they?” asked the baker.   
   “They would,” answered the Dutch boy with his national passion for cleanliness, “if your window were clean.”      
   “That’s so, too,“ mused the baker. “Perhaps you’ll clean it.”         “I will,” was the laconic reply. And Edward Bok, there and then, got his first job. He went in, found a step-ladder, and put so much Dutch energy into the cleaning of the large show-window that the baker immediately arranged with him to clean it every Tuesday and Friday afternoon after school. The salary was to be fifty cents per week!      
   But one day, after he had finished cleaning the window, and the baker was busy in the rear of the store, a customer came in, and Edward ventured to wait on her. Dexterously he wrapped up for another the fragrant currant-buns for which his young soul—and stomach—so hungered! The baker watched him, saw how quickly and smilingly he served the customer, and offered Edward an extra dollar per week if he would come in afternoons and sell behind the counter.

   He immediately entered into the bargain with the understanding that, in addition to his salary of a dollar and a half per week, he should each afternoon carry home from the good things unsold a moderate something as a present to his mother. The baker agreed, and Edward promised to come each afternoon except Saturday.          “Want to play ball, hey?” said the baker.      
   “Yes, I want to play ball,” replied the boy, but he was not reserving his Saturday afternoons for games, although, boy-like, that might be his preference. 
    
   Edward now took on for each Saturday morning—when, of course, there was no school—the delivery route of a weekly paper called the South Brooklyn Advocate. He had offered to deliver the entire neighborhood edition of the paper for one dollar, thus increasing his earning capacity to two dollars and a half per week.
  
   Transportation, in those days in Brooklyn, was by horse-cars, and the car-line on Smith Street nearest Edward’s home ran to Coney Island. Just around the corner where Edward lived the cars stopped to water the horses on their long haul. The boy noticed that the men jumped from the open cars in summer, ran into the cigar-store before which the watering-trough was placed, and got a drink of water from the ice-cooler placed near the door. But that was not so easily possible for the women, and they, especially the children, were forced to take the long ride without a drink. It was this that he had in mind when he reserved his Saturday afternoon to “play ball.”        

Here was an opening, and Edward decided to fill it. He bought a shining new pail screwed three hooks on the edge from which he hung three clean shimmering glasses. One Saturday afternoon when a car stopped the boy leaped on, tactfully asked the conductor if he did not want a drink, and then proceeded to sell his water, cooled with ice, at a cent a glass to the passengers. A little experience showed that he exhausted a pail with every two cars, and each pail netted him thirty cents. Of course Sunday was a most profitable day; and after going to Sunday-school in the morning, he did a further Sabbath service for the rest of the day by refreshing tired mothers and thirsty children on the Coney Island cars—at a penny a glass!         

But the profit of six dollars which Edward was now reaping in his newly found “bonanza” on Saturday and Sunday afternoons became apparent to other boys, and one Saturday the young ice-water boy found that he had a competitor; then two and soon three. Edward immediately met the challenge; he squeezed half a dozen lemons into each pail of water, added some sugar, tripled his charge, and continued his monopoly by selling “Lemonade, three cents a glass.” Soon more passengers were asking for lemonade than for plain drinking water! 
       
   One evening Edward went to a party of young people, and his latent journalistic sense whispered to him that his young hostess might like to see her social affair in print. He went home, wrote up the party, being careful to include the name of every boy and girl present, and next morning took the account to the city editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, with the sage observation that every name mentioned in that paragraph represented a buyer of the paper, who would like to see his or her name in print, and that if the editor had enough of these reports he might very advantageously strengthen the circulation of The Eagle.

   The editor was not slow to see the point, and offered Edward three dollars a column for such reports. On his way home, Edward calculated how many parties he would have to attend a week to furnish a column, and decided that he would organize a corps of private reporters himself. Forthwith, he saw every girl and boy he knew, got each to promise to write for him an account of each party he or she attended or gave, and laid great stress on a full recital of names. Within a few weeks, Edward was turning in to The Eagle from two to three columns a week; his pay was raised to four dollars a column; the editor was pleased in having started a department that no other paper carried, and the “among those present” at the parties all bought the paper and were immensely gratified to see their names.
     
   So everybody was happy, and Edward Bok, as a full-fledged reporter, had begun his journalistic career. It is curious how deeply embedded in his nature, even in his earliest years, was the inclination toward the publishing business. The word “curious” is used here because Edward is the first journalist in the Bok family in all the centuries through which it extends in Dutch history. On his father’s side, there was a succession of jurists. On the mother’s side, not a journalist is visible.
  
   Edward attended the Sunday school of the Carroll Park Methodist Episcopal Church, in Brooklyn, of which a Mr. Elkins was superintendent. One day he learned that Mr. Elkins was associated with the publishing house of Harper and Brothers. Edward had heard his father speak of Harper’s Weekly and of the great part it had played in the Civil War; his father also brought home an occasional copy of Harper’s Weekly and of Harper’s Magazine.
 
   He had seen Harper’s Young People; the name of Harper and Brothers was on some of his school-books; and he pictured in his mind how wonderful it must be for a man to be associated with publishers of periodicals that other people read, and books that other folks studied. The Sunday school superintendent henceforth became a figure of importance in Edward’s eyes. Many a morning the boy hastened from home long before the hour for school, and seated himself on the steps of the Elkins house under the pretext of waiting for Mr. Elkins’s son to go to school. But really for the secret purpose of seeing Mr. Elkins set forth to engage in the momentous business of making books and periodicals. Edward would look after the superintendent’s form until it was lost to view; then, with a sigh, he would go to school, forgetting all about the Elkins boy whom he had told the father he had come to call for.         
   One day Edward was introduced to a girl whose father, he learned, was editor of the New York Weekly. Edward could not quite place this periodical; he had never seen it, he had never heard of it. So he bought a copy, and while its contents seemed strange, and its air unfamiliar in comparison with the magazines he found in his home, still an editor was an editor. He was certainly well worth knowing. So he sought his newly made young lady friend, asked permission to call upon her, and to Edward’s joy was introduced to her father.
 
   It was enough for Edward to look furtively at the editor upon his first call, and being encouraged to come again, he promptly did so the next evening. The daughter has long since passed away, and so it cannot hurt her feelings now to acknowledge that for years Edward paid court to her only that he might know her father. and have those talks with him about editorial methods that filled him with ever-increasing ambition to tread the path that leads to editorial tribulations. With school days ended, the question of self-education became an absorbing thought with Edward Bok. He had mastered a schoolboy’s English, but seven years of public-school education was hardly a basis on which to build the work of a lifetime. He saw each day in his duties as office boy some of the foremost men of the time. It was the period of William H. Vanderbilt’s ascendancy in Western Union control; and the railroad millionaire and his companions, Hamilton McK. Twombly, James H. Banker, Samuel F. Barger, Alonzo B. Cornell, Augustus Schell, William Orton. They were objects of great interest to the young office boy.

 Alexander Graham Bell and Thomas A. Edison were also constant visitors to the department. He knew that some of these men, too, had been deprived of the advantage of collegiate training, and yet they had risen to the top. But how? The boy decided to read about these men and others, and find out. He could not, however, afford the separate biographies, so he went to the libraries to find a compendium that would authoritatively tell him of all successful men. He found it in Appleton’s Encyclopedia, and, determining to have only the best, he saved his luncheon money, walked instead of riding the five miles to his Brooklyn home.

After a period of saving, he had his reward in the first purchase from his own earnings: a set of the Encyclopedia. He now read about all the successful men, and was encouraged to find that in many cases their beginnings had been as modest as his own, and their opportunities of education as limited.
      
   One day it occurred to him to test the accuracy of the biographies he was reading. James A. Garfield was then spoken of for the presidency. Edward wondered whether it was true that the man who was likely to be President of the United States had once been a boy on the towpath. So with a simple directness characteristic of his Dutch training, wrote to General Garfield, asking whether the boyhood episode was true, and explaining why he asked. Of course any public man, no matter how large his correspondence, is pleased to receive an earnest letter from an information-seeking boy. General Garfield answered warmly and fully. Edward showed the letter to his father, who told the boy that it was valuable and he should keep it. This was a new idea. He followed it further: if one such letter were valuable, how much more valuable would be a hundred! If General Garfield answered him, would not other famous men? Why not begin a collection of autograph letters? Everybody collected something.
      
   Edward had collected postage stamps, and the hobby had, incidentally, helped him wonderfully in his study of geography. Why should not autograph letters from famous persons be of equal service in his struggle for self-education? Not simple autographs—they were meaningless; but actual letters which might tell him something useful. It never occurred to the boy that these men might not answer him.      
   So he took his Encyclopedia—its trustworthiness now established in his mind by General Garfield’s letter—and began to study the lives of successful men and women. Then, with boyish frankness, he wrote on some mooted question in one famous person’s life; he asked about the date of some important event in another’s, not given in the Encyclopedia; or he asked one man why he did this or why some other man did that.
      
   Most interesting were, of course, the replies. Thus General Grant sketched on an improvised map the exact spot where General Lee surrendered to him. Longfellow told him how he came to write “Excelsior”; Whittier told the story of “The Barefoot Boy”. Tennyson wrote out a stanza or two of “The Brook,” upon condition that Edward would not again use the word “awful,” which the poet said “is slang for ‘very,’” and “I hate slang.” 
    
   One day the boy received a letter from the Confederate general Jubal A. Early, giving the real reason why he burned Chambersburg. A friend visiting Edward’s father, happening to see the letter, recognized in it a hitherto-missing bit of history, and suggested that it be published in the New York Tribune. The letter attracted wide attention and provoked national discussion.
    
   This suggested to the editor of The Tribune that Edward might have other equally interesting letters; so he dispatched a reporter to the boy’s home. This reporter was Ripley Hitchcock, who afterward became literary adviser for the Appletons and Harpers. Of course Hitchcock at once saw a “story” in the boy’s letters, and within a few days The Tribune appeared with a long article on its principal news page giving an account of the Brooklyn boy’s remarkable letters and how he had secured them. The Brooklyn Eagle quickly followed with a request for an interview; the Boston Globe followed suit; the Philadelphia Public Ledger sent its New York correspondent; and before Edward was aware of it, newspapers in different parts of the country were writing about “the well-known Brooklyn autograph collector.” 
   
   Edward Bok was quick to see the value of the publicity, which had so suddenly, come to him. He received letters from other autograph collectors all over the country who sought to “exchange” with him. References began to creep into letters from famous persons to whom he had written, saying they had read about his wonderful collection and were proud to be included in it. George W. Childs, of Philadelphia, himself the possessor of probably one of the finest collections of autograph letters in the country, asked Edward to come to Philadelphia and bring his collection with him—which he did, on the following Sunday, and brought it back greatly enriched.      
   Several of the writers felt an interest in a boy who frankly told them that he wanted to educate himself, and asked Edward to come and see them. Accordingly, when they lived in New York or Brooklyn, or came to these cities on a visit, he was quick to avail himself of their invitations. He began to note each day in the newspapers the “distinguished arrivals” at the New York hotels; and when any one with whom he had corresponded arrived, Edward would, after business hours, go up-town, pay his respects, and thank him in person for his letters.

 No person was too high for Edward’s boyish approach; President Garfield, General Grant, General Sherman, President Hayes—all were called upon, and all received the boy graciously and were interested in the problem of his self-education. It was a veritable case of making friends on every hand; friends who were to be of the greatest help and value to the boy in his after-years, although he had no conception of it at the time.
     
   The Fifth Avenue Hotel, in those days the stopping-place of the majority of the famous men and women visiting New York, represented to the young boy who came to see these celebrities the very pinnacle of opulence. Often while waiting to be received by some dignitary, he wondered how one could acquire enough means to live at a place of such luxury. The main dining room, to the boy’s mind, was an object of special interest. He would purposely sneak up-stairs and sit on one of the soft sofas in the foyer simply to see the well-dressed diners go in and come out. Edward would speculate on whether the time would ever come when he could dine in that wonderful room just once!
     
   One evening he called, after the close of business, upon General and Mrs. Grant, whom he had met before, and who had expressed a desire to see his collection. It can readily be imagined what a red-letter day it made in the boy’s life to have General Grant say: “It might be better for us all to go down to dinner first and see the collection afterward.” Edward had purposely killed time between five and seven o’clock, thinking that the general’s dinner-hour, like his own, was at six. He had allowed an hour for the general to eat his dinner, only to find that he was still to begin it. The boy could hardly believe his ears, and unable to find his voice, he failed to apologize for his modest suit or his general after-business appearance.
     
   As in a dream he went down in the elevator with his host and hostess, and when the party of three faced toward the dining-room entrance, so familiar to the boy, he felt as if his legs must give way under him. There have since been other red-letter days in Edward Bok’s life, but the moment that still stands out preeminent is that when two colored head waiters at the dining-room entrance, whom he had so often watched, bowed low and escorted the party to their table. At last, he was in that sumptuous dining-hall. The entire room took on the picture of one great eye, and that eye centered on the party of three—as, in fact, it naturally would. But Edward felt that the eye was on him, wondering why he should be there.      
   What he ate and what he said he does not recall. General Grant, not a voluble talker himself, gently drew the boy out, and Mrs. Grant seconded him, until toward the close of the dinner he heard himself talking. He remembers that he heard his voice, but what that voice said is all-dim to him. One act stamped itself on his mind. The dinner ended with a wonderful dish of nuts and raisins, and just before the party rose from the table Mrs. Grant asked the waiter to bring her a paper bag. Into this she emptied the entire dish, and at the close of the evening she gave it to Edward “to eat on the way home.”

It was a wonderful evening, afterward up-stairs, General Grant smoking the inevitable cigar, and telling stories as he read the letters of different celebrities. Over those of Confederate generals he grew reminiscent; and when he came to a letter from General Sherman, Edward remembers that he chuckled audibly, reread it, and then turning to Mrs. Grant, said: “Julia, listen to this from Sherman. Not bad.” The letter he read was this:
          
  Now, this world does not often present the condition of facts herein described. Men entirely great are very rare indeed, and even Washington, who approached greatness as near as any mortal, found good use for the sword and the pen, each in its proper sphere.

  You and I have seen the day when a great and good man ruled this country (Lincoln) who wielded a powerful and prolific pen, and yet had to call to his assistance a million of flaming swords.
 No, I cannot subscribe to your sentiment, “The pen is mightier than the sword,” which you ask me to write, because it is not true.

  Rather, in the providence of God, there is a time for all things; a time when the sword may cut the Gordian knot, and set free the principles of right and justice, bound up in the meshes of hatred, revenge, and tyranny, that the pens of mighty men like Clay, Webster, Crittenden, and Lincoln were unable to disentangle. Wishing you all success, I am, with respect, your friend,

W. T. SHERMAN.
DEAR MR. BOK:—
  I prefer not to make scraps of sentimental writing. When I write anything I want it to be real and connected in form, as, for instance, in your quotation from Lord Lytton’s play of “Richelieu,” “The pen is mightier than the sword.” Lord Lytton would never have put his signature to so naked a sentiment. Surely I will not.
  In the text there was a prefix or qualification:
Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword.
      
   Mrs. Grant had asked Edward to send her a photograph of himself, and after one had been taken, the boy took it to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, intending to ask the clerk to send it to her room. Instead, he met General and Mrs. Grant just coming from the elevator, going out to dinner. The boy told them his errand, and said he would have the photograph sent up-stairs.
      
   “I am so sorry we are just going out to dinner,” said Mrs. Grant, “for the general had some excellent photographs just taken of himself, and he signed one for you, and put it aside, intending to send it to you when yours came.” Then, turning to the general, she said: “Ulysses, send up for it. We have a few moments.”      
   “I’ll go and get it. I know just where it is,” returned the general. “Let me have yours,” he said, turning to Edward. “I am glad to exchange photographs with you, boy.”
    
   To Edward’s surprise, when the general returned he brought with him, not a duplicate of the small carte-de-visite size which he had given the general all that he could afford—but a large, full cabinet size.      
“They make ’em too big,” said the general, as he handed it to Edward. But the boy didn’t think so!
     
   That evening was one that the boy was long to remember. It suddenly came to him that he had read a few days before of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln’s arrival in New York at Doctor Holbrook’s sanitarium. Thither Edward went; and within half an hour from the time he had been talking with General Grant he was sitting at the bedside of Mrs. Lincoln, showing her the wonderful photograph just presented to him. Edward saw that the widow of the great Lincoln did not mentally respond to his pleasure in his possession. It was apparent even to the boy that mental and physical illness had done their work with the frail frame. But he had the memory, at least, of having got that close to the great President.

   The eventful evening, however, was not yet over. Edward had boarded a Broadway stage to take him to his Brooklyn home when, glancing at the newspaper of a man sitting next to him, he saw the headline: “Jefferson Davis arrives in New York.” He read enough to see that the Confederate President was stopping at the Metropolitan Hotel, in lower Broadway, and as he looked out of the stage-window the sign “Metropolitan Hotel” stared him in the face. In a moment he was out of the stage; he wrote a little note, asked the clerk to send it to Mr. Davis, and within five minutes was talking to the Confederate President and telling of his remarkable evening. Mr. Davis was keenly interested in the coincidence and in the boy before him.

He asked about the famous collection, and promised to secure for Edward a letter written by each member of the Confederate Cabinet. This he subsequently did. Edward remained with Mr. Davis until ten o’clock, and that evening brought about an interchange of letters between the Brooklyn boy and Mr. Davis at Beauvoir, Mississippi that lasted until the latter passed away.
   
     Edward was fast absorbing a tremendous quantity of biographical information about the most famous men and women of his time, and he was compiling a collection of autograph letters that the newspapers had made famous throughout the country. He was ruminating over his possessions one day, and wondering to what practical use he could put his collection; for while it was proving educative to a wonderful degree, it was, after all, a hobby, and a hobby means expense. His autograph quest cost him stationary, postage, carfare all outgo. But it had brought him no income, save rich mental revenue. And the boy and his family needed money. He did not know, then, the value of a background.
      He was thinking along this line in a restaurant when a man sitting next to him opened a box of cigarettes, and taking a picture out of it threw it on the floor. Edward picked it up, thinking it might be a “prospect” for his collection of autograph letters. It was the picture of a well known actress. He then recalled an advertisement announcing that this particular brand of cigarettes contained, in each package, a lithographed portrait of some famous actor or actress. If the purchaser would collect these he would, in the end, have a valuable album of the greatest actors and actresses of the day.

Edward turned the picture over, only to find a blank reverse side. “All very well,” he thought, “but what does a purchaser have, after all, in the end, but a lot of pictures? Why don’t they use the back of each picture, and tell what each did a little biography? Then it would be worth keeping.” With his passion for self-education, the idea appealed very strongly to him; and believing firmly that there were others possessed of the same thirst, he set out the next day, in his luncheon hour, to find out who made the picture.
    
   At the office of the Cigarette Company he learned that the making of the pictures was in the hands of the Knapp Lithographic Company. The following luncheon hour, Edward sought the offices of the company, and explained his idea to Mr. Joseph P. Knapp, now the president of the American Lithograph Company. I’ll give you ten dollars apiece if you will write me a one-hundred-word biography of one hundred famous Americans,” was Mr. Knapp’s instant reply. “Send me a list, and group them, as, for instance: presidents and vice-presidents, famous soldiers, actors, authors, etc.”  “And thus,” says Mr. Knapp, as he tells the tale today, “I gave Edward Bok his first literary commission, and started him off on his literary career.” And it is true. But Edward soon found the Lithograph Company calling for “copy,” and, write as he might, he could not supply the biographies fast enough.

 He, at last, completed the first hundred, and so instantaneous was their success that Mr. Knapp called for a second hundred, and then for a third. Finding that one hand was not equal to the task, Edward offered his brother five dollars for each biography. He made the same offer to one or two journalists whom he knew and whose accuracy he could trust; and he was speedily convinced that merely to edit biographies written by others, at one-half the price paid to him, was more profitable than to write himself. So with five journalists working at top speed to supply the hungry lithograph presses, Mr. Knapp was likewise responsible for Edward Bok’s first adventure as an editor. It was commercial, if you will, but it was a commercial editing that had a distinct educational value to a large public.  The important point is that Edward Bok was being led more and more to writing and to editorship.
            
   But what with helping his mother, tending the baker’s shop in after-school hours, serving his paper route, plying his street-car trade, and acting as social reporter, it soon became evident to Edward that he had not much time to prepare his school lessons. By a supreme effort, he managed to hold his own in his class, but no more. Instinctively, he felt that he was not getting all that he might from his educational opportunities, yet the need for him to add to the family income was, if anything, becoming greater. The idea of leaving school was broached to his mother, but she rebelled. She told the boy that he was earning something now and helping much.

   Perhaps the tide with the father would turn and he would find the place to which his unquestioned talents entitled him. Finally the father did. He associated himself with the Western Union Telegraph Company as translator, a position for which his easy command of languages admirably fitted him. Thus, for a time, the strain upon the family exchequer was lessened.         
   But the American spirit of initiative had entered deep into the soul of Edward Bok. The brother had left school a year before, and found a place as messenger in a lawyer’s office; and when one evening Edward heard his father say that the office boy in his department had left, he asked that he be allowed to leave school, apply for the open position, and get the rest of his education in the great world itself. It was not easy for the parents to see the younger son leave school at so early an age, but the earnestness of the boy prevailed.
        
   And so, at the age of thirteen, Edward Bok left school, and on Monday, August 7, 1876, he became office boy in the electricians’ department of the Western Union Telegraph Company at six dollars and twenty-five cents per week. And, as such things will fall out in this curiously strange world, it happened that as Edward drew up his chair for the first time to his desk to begin his work on that Monday morning, there had been born in Boston, exactly twelve hours before, a girl-baby who was destined to become his wife. Thus at the earliest possible moment after her birth, Edward Bok started to work for her!      

              The state of mind

If you think you are beaten, you are,
If you think I dare not, you don’t.
If you would like to win, but you think you can’t,
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose your lost,
For out in the world you find,
Success begins with a fellow’s will;
It’s all in the state of mind.

Full many a race is lost, Ere ever a step is run;
And many a coward fails,
Ere ever his work’s begun.
Think big and your deeds will grow;
Think small and you will fall behind.
Think that you can and you will.
It’s all in the state of mind.

If you think you are out classed, you are;
You’ve got to think high to rise,
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the fellow who thinks he can.

              John Plumridge
                 Stoke Poges

Certificate of Mrs. Margaret Fox, The Occupant of The House.

                                  Hydesville, New York

We moved into this house on December 11,1847,and resided here since that date.  We formerly lived in the city of Rochester, NY We were first disturbed by these noises about a fortnight ago.  It sounded like some one knocking in the east room, on the floor; we could hardly tell where to locate the sounds, as sometimes it sounded as if the furniture was moved, but on examination we found everything in order.  The children had become so alarmed that I thought best to have them sleep in the room with us.

On the night of the first disturbance we all got up, lighted a candle and searched the entire house, the noises continuing during the time, and being heard near the same place.  Although not very loud, it produced a jar of tile bedsteads and chairs that could be felt when we were in bed. It was a tremulous motion, more than a sudden jar. We could feel the jar when standing on the floor.  It continued on this night until we slept.  I did not sleep until about twelve o'clock.  On March 30th we were disturbed all night.  The noises were heard in all parts of the house.  My husband stationed himself outside of the door while I stood inside, and the knocks came on the door between us. he heard footsteps in the pantry, and walking down-stairs; we could not rest, and I then concluded that the house must be haunted by some unhappy, restless spirit.  I had often heard of such things, but had never witnessed anything of the kind that I could not account for before.

On Friday night, March 31,1848 we concluded to go to bed early and not permit ourselves to be disturbed by the noises, but try and get nights rest. My husband was here on all these occasions, heard the noises, and helped search.  It was early when we went to bed on this night; hardly dark.  I had been so broken of my rest I was almost sick. My husband had not gone to bed when we first heard the noise on this evening.  I had just lain down. It commenced as usual.  I knew it from all other noises I had ever before heard.  The children, who slept in the other bed in the room, heard the rapping’s and tried to make similar sounds by snapping their fingers.

My youngest child (Cathy) said: "Mr. Splitfoot, do as I do" clapping her hands.  The sounds instantly followed her with the same number of raps; when she stopped the sound ceased for a short time.  Then Margaretta said, in sport: "Now do as I do; count one, two, three, four," striking one hand against the other at the same time, and the raps came as before.  She was afraid to repeat them.  Then Cathy said, in her childish simplicity: "O mother, I know what it is; to-morrow is April fool day, and it's somebody trying to fool us" I then thought I could put a. test that no one in the place could answer.

I asked the noise to rap my different children's ages, successively. Instantly each one of my children's ages, was correctly given. Then pausing between them sufficiently long to individualize them until the seventh, at which a longer pause was made, and then three more emphatic raps were given, corresponding to the age of the little one that died, which was my youngest child.  I then asked: "Is this a human being that answers my questions so correctly?" There was no rap. I asked: "Is it a spirit?  If it is, make two raps., Two sounds were given as soon as the request was made. I then said, If it was and injured spirit, make two raps,” which were instantly made, causing the house to tremble.

I asked, "Were you injured in this house?" The answer was given as before. "Is the person living that injured you?" Answered by raps in the same manner. I ascertained by the same method that it was a man, age thirty one-years; that he had been murdered in this house. His remains were buried in the cellar. That his family consisted of a wife and five children, two sons and three daughters, all living at the time of his death, but that his wife had since died, I asked: "Will you continue to rap if I call in my neighbors that they may hear it too?" The raps were loud in the affirmative. 

My Husband went and called in Mrs. Redfield (our nearest neighbor) . She is a very candid woman. The girls were sitting up in bed clinging to each other and trembling with terror. I think I was as calm as I am now.  Mrs. Redfield came immediately (this was about half past seven), thinking she would have a laugh at the children; but when she saw them pale with fright and nearly speechless, she was amazed, and believed there was something. More serious than she had supposed. I asked a few questions for her, and was answered as before. He told her age exactly. She then called her husband, and the same questions were asked and answered.  Then Mr. Redfield called in Mr. Duesler and wife, and several others. 

Mr. Duesler and wife, then called in Mr. and Mrs. Hyde, also Mr. and Mrs. Jewell. Mr. Duesler asked many questions, and received answers.  I then named all the neighbors I could think of, and asked if any of them had injured him, and received no answer.  Mr. Duesler then asked questions and received answers. he asked, "Were you murdered ?" Raps affirmative. "Can your murderer be brought to justice-?" no sound.  "Can he be punished by the law?" no answer. He then said: "If your murderer cannot be punished by the law, manifest it by raps." And raps were made clearly and distinctly.

In the same way Mr. Duesler ascertained, that a Mr.___ murdered him in the east bedroom on a Tuesday night, at twelve o'clock. That he was murdered by having his throat cut with a butcher knife. That the body was taken down cellar; that it was not buried until the next night; that it was taken through the buttery, down the stairway, and that it was buried ten feet below the surface of the ground. it was also ascertained that he was murdered for his money by raps affirmative. “How much was it, one hundred?" no rap. Was it two hundred?" etc.; and when he mentioned five hundred the raps replied in the affirmative. 

Many called in who were fishing in the creek, and all heard the same questions and answers.  Many remained in the house all night. My children and I left the house.  My husband remained in the house all night with Mr. Redfield.  On the next Saturday the house was filled to overflowing.  There were no sounds heard during the day, but they commenced again in the evening. 

It was said there were over three hundred persons present at the time.  On Sunday morning the noises were heard throughout the house by all who came to the house.  On Saturday night, April lst, they commenced digging in the cellar; they dug until they came to water, and then gave up. The noise was not heard on Sunday evening nor during the night.  Stephen B. Smith and wife (my daughter Maria), and my son, David S. Fox and wife, slept in the room this night.  I have heard nothing since that time until yesterday.  In the forenoon of yesterday there were several questions answered in the usual way, by rapping.  I have heard the noise several times today.

I am not a believer in haunted houses or supernatural appearances.  I am very sorry that there has been so much excitement about it.  It has been a great deal of trouble to us.  It was our misfortune to live here at this time; but I am willing and anxious that the truth should be known, and that a true statement should be made.  I cannot account for these noises; all that I know is, that they have been heard repeatedly, as I have stated.  I have heard this rapping again this (Tuesday) morning, April 4th.  My children also heard it.  I certify that the foregoing statement has been read to me, and that the same is true; and that I should be willing to take my oath that it is so, if necessary.
(Signed)   Margaret Fox
April 11, 1848

               DIAMOND Of THE SOUL
(Knowing her courage in facing the problems caused by her husband’s illness, Silver Birch invited a former visitor to return to the circle. One of her difficulties concerned the enigma  of reincantion.)                                                                 ----------------------                                                                                  
I don't have to tell you this is your testing time in which you are being tried to the utmost. But you will come through no matter what difficulties surround you. The power that is behind you is a mighty one.It will not fail you. In all earthly life there are times when you meet with the great challenges in which you come face to face with the stark realities of life in your world.                       

  It is then that you have to make sure that your beliefs are on unshakable knowledge.This can provide the means of ensuring that you will play your part and in no way allow any happening, however near and close, to deflect you from what you know is the undeniable reality of life, the fact that it is founded on spiritual principles which can not fail.

And you are fortunate in that the preparation has been made because you were led to obtain the knowledge which is the bulwark for you in this time of crisis. So you must continue to hold your head high. Show by your demeanor and bearing that you will not in any way be diverted from the truth that has brought you spiritual freedom Question: "I have problems with my children though they are both coping. The youngest is very interested in Spiritualism and psychic matters.                             

 My husband does not believe and is very upset that I do not discourage my son's interest. He is distressed because it is so against anything he believes." I think the need of the youth is greater than the beliefs of age. One is at the stage where the earthly life has almost reached its course. The other is at the beginning, when the whole course has to run. Use your tact and diplomacy, as you have done, but do not in any way swerve from the principles that you know to be true.                                     

You realize that stifling natural psychic faculties is not advisable. If they are allowed to stultify, then there is disharmony in the make up of the child. It is always preferable to achieve wholeness rather than to allow what should be natural not to find its expression. But you can do it in your own way and help your man as you have helped him considerable.                                                 

Question: "This child seems to believe in the principles of reincarnation. But he is worried now because he knows his father is dying. He cannot understand how when he dies he can be reunited with the family if it is split."                  
 
It is not such a problem because there may be a very long interval before reincarnation occurs. They say in your world, and it is an axiom I accept, that you should never cross your bridge until you come to it.                         Reincarnation is a truth which has many facets.      

Because of that it is not easy to explain the complexity of reincarnation to minds which are unable to accept all that is involved. I have never hesitated in proclaiming that I maintain reincarnation is a fact. I have said that it is so for everybody. What I have said is that the human individuality is not always a single entity but a facet of a larger diamond.                                                           

These facets incarnate into your world for experience that will enable them to return to the diamond and add to its luster and radiance. It is part of the law of cause and effect in operation because there are karmic debts to be paid. There are also opportunities for evolved souls to return at a time when they can perform a service to groups, and even to countries, where there is a need for their qualities and gifts to be expressed.
                     
It is a complex subject. It involves an understanding of the extent to which individuality can be appreciated because it is far more than the personality in one earthly incarnation. There is a confusion between personality and individuality. An individual can reincarnate and have many personalities. These are the physical expressions, manifestations of the individuality, but the individuality is unchanged personality, from persona, the mask, belongs to the physical body. It is the way that the individuality is able to express itself through the five material senses, and that is the tip of the iceberg.

Personality is the mask that you wear on earth; individuality, the real self, seldom expresses itself, through the inability to do so. At best it is only a very poor manifestation of what can be shown when it is finally divorced from the physical body. The individuality is far greater than the personality.It is not personality that exists after physical death. Personality is only a shadow cast by the sun which is the individuality.                                   

Individuality survives, and gradually manifests its latent potential that cannot be expressed on earth. In the case of service that is to be rendered to your world, there is a larger individuality, a diamond which has many facets. These facets incarnate so as to have expression that will add to the diamond's luster.                              

Some of you will discover that you are affinities. Although you are two people you are two halves of one individuality. When that happens in your world it brings with it a richness that cannot be measured in terms of material wealth. Affinities are the facets of the diamond. These are difficult matters to explain.               

You can have a soul which is the diamond of many facets. These facets, at differing eras, can incarnate into your world as personalities. But when they pass from your world and return to ours they are still facets of the one individuality.
                                           
It is not automatic that families are reunited in our world. It happens only when there is a natural spiritual affinity between their members. If this dose not exist, there is no reunion possible because they are at differing levels of consciousness. In similar fashion a husband and wife will not be reunited in our world unless it was a marriage of souls and minds as well as bodies and brains. It is the spiritual affinity that decides in reunion. What happens is that for a time the vibrations of the blood tie persist, but not eternally.                                                     

Spirit is superior to matter. What is of the spirit will endure; what is of matter will not. You must try to explain that to your boy. It is not easy. But unfailing law regulates everything. Love is the key because love is the expression of the Great Spirit, God, the Lord, the Creator, whatever name you choose to use.Hold your head high. You have been guided and helped, and you will come through.

Do not allow even for one moment the thought of failure- you will be strengthened in spirit as a result and learn the very valuable lessons which will bring a great richness to you in the days that lie in front of you. We can never promise to those we love in your world that their paths will be easy, that they will meet with no obstacle.

What we do say is that every obstacle and difficulty is a challenge. If you overcome it spiritually you are better for it. Everybody in your world has to die. It is not part of the natural law that you should live forever physically in your world.

Once the fear of death is abolished, then the people of your world will welcome death as the angel who takes them from darkness into light and provides the opportunity for expressing gifts and faculties that had no opportunity of being utilized in your world.                                  ------------------------                                          Silver Birch

Nov. 25 1975
                                         Alyce Andrews in trance
It matters not who I am but what I say.  You have only a little knowledge, but knowledge has always been. Thousands, and thousands, and thousands of years ago, all of that which you have now and more was known. You have expanded only a little since the time when all was lost and you are meeting here to learn, but we cannot work with you from your churches No, because, we cannot say what we should to you.

Throughout the time of seers and revelations--if you have studied them..--you will find that those who gave the most were those who embraced and gave forth knowledge of all things. Not a narrow bridge of knowledge which you are giving now. Some of your later mediums and seers--some of the greatest embraced this.  You get their books and yet, you think of only one thing. 

We speak now of that great man now in spirit, Casey.  He did not confine his revelations to just contact with the spirit people here where I am but he gave the knowledge, which they gave. The knowledge of reincarnation, healing, astrology and yet you throw It aside.  Your Washington Seer combines her ability to pierce our world with that knowledge, which she knows, is correct of the stars and astrology, vibrations, and color and yet, you as an organization are staying in a rut of narrow perception.  We know you have been told, "Don't talk it", but you are teaching that life goes on.  Where does it go?  Are your ancestors going to stay with us here forever and ever?  No, whom would they come back to in a hundred years. I lived a long time ago, yes, but since then I have been into three lives again here on earth, and two on other planets and worlds.

Now, you cannot stay in that rut too much longer -'or if you do, you will find a disintegration and you will find those who embrace a further knowledge making strides so far ahead, you will be lost in the struggle.
Wake up--the world is at a crossroads now. Great destruction is imminent before the end of your century.  Oh no, the world will not pass away but it will be changed, and those with the knowledge of life, those who know how to connect all signs in order to live will be those who go on for they will have the knowledge to survive.

Who was I from the time I now speak. I am speaking English from a later life but when I was the person whom I am, using tonight, I lived In Ancient China and the knowledge throughout the world was great. Yes, the world. Very knowledgeable people long before Columbus inhabited your country here, but there was a catastrophe.  Many were gone.  The world has many signs left of those ancient people who knew. Your Bible is a history, but it has been incorrectly interpreted. 

The old history in your Old Testament is true, but vastly and greatly misinterpreted as to what is said.  Go back, examine, and read.  Some of the words have been changed in order for those who would keep people ignorant to make their points, but If you would grow and live and survive listen well to those who come and give you further knowledge here. You cannot take a half truth and live and make it go. No, you cannot take cloth and only sew it up one side and expect it to become a protective garment.  Neither, can you take part of the knowledge of life and separate it from the whole, and expect to have protection of life, learning, and living. 

No, the whole must be complete.  A house with only three walls is only half livable.  A meal with only one food is not complete in nourishment. Think well and be aware, at least, you get the complete knowledge. Remember those who taught and whose teachings have lived on were those who embraced many facets of life and gave forth of their knowledge in a manner that brought the whole together.  Yes, wake up my children-wake up!

March 4, 1975
         Alyce medium in trance
    Good evening.  When I was with you I was Lila McGee.  I was a dietician in the old country and my interest tonight is with food.  You know that food is becoming very short, upon your plane but part of it is due to a great deal of ignorance both in your country and abroad.
 
   You have worked the land until it has become worn out, as it were, and also, when you could produce, you did not but we wish to say that if those who have something to do with producing would think for a few moments and not waste. We heard some talking tonight before class here upon the subject of helping.
 
   Now, helping is one thing but wasting and throwing it to the winds is another. You were told by the great master who knew the secrets upon the earth and in the heavens that you were not to cast pearls before swine. Now, this could also mean not casting, that which will be useless and which will not produce desired results before anyone.
 
   Sending food to those who not only will be deprived of the most of it; but also when given will amount to little among the hoards who in the end will die anyhow, is a waste.  To help those who by giving can help themselves is good and you have this lesson to be learned in many ways not only with food but also with those people who are so used to getting and being given to, they think it is their right. 

   To give is good when needed but to give to make one lax and not productive is another thing. Those who think it is their right to have regardless is not what we term in the etheric world good. We are trying to impress upon those who would keep as  you call it, the hand out to stop them.

   To say that everyone is, entitled to so much for living, that each one should be taken care of regardless, is not good because you are hurting that person more than you would be helping if you did not give them anything. You will find if you look back through history in your country and in your world that people fought to live, worked to live, and if it was not in front of them, they found a way to produce or make it. They found a way to live--not in luxury, not with everything they desired, but enough to keep them alive and to meet each day with a smile regardless.

     We go to your pilgrims who came across the Atlantic and. tried to live.  It was very hard; but not one of them thought someone else was going to provide for them.  Somehow, they found a way, as did those who settled in Jamestown, as did those who came into the Northland in Canada and who fought to keep themselves alive.  Your Indians who were here first, they did not go to someone and say, "We are hungry, feed us" or we want this because we want to have pleasure.  No, they used their minds and they used those things that were around them.
 
   Even their medicine was found in the woods and they learned by themselves how to take care of themselves, what would cure, and heal, and what could be used for food.  What has happened to the mass of people today who think they should have things regardless?  You have that within your own country, those who think they should be taken care of regardless.  We are not saying to one who is ill or one who cannot for some reason take care of himself.
 
   Yes, give them food for health, keep them warm, but do not--please do not keep on giving them luxuries, letting them have those things which those before have worked for years and centuries to bring into being for themselves. This is not good. Look within your own country and all of those who are lazy and lax today because the giving was not figured and thought of in the proper manner. Then go to the foreign countries where your wars are raging, where your hunger is spreading and remember that to give and, give and give is not the answer.
 
   Those who know somehow it will be given do not strive for themselves but keep taking. When you see food piled up which has been sent while big ones--men and women who should be let's say with power  and instinct enough to use it properly, let it rot while they argue about which ones shall have it, is that being wise?

     We in spirit are aware of the many, many tons of food and grain which has been shipped    to these places and we see it not going to the hungry but distributed to those in power to be sold for money.  Is this helping? We do not say not to help your brother but we say that if you send enough food for a thousand people to feed a million, it is as nothing and that is what you have upon the African and Asian Continents today.  You have millions starving, yes, but you give them a mouthful today.  Tomorrow, they will starve again.

   We do not ask you to think in terms of hardness and not pity; but we do say that all life which we have learned about is in the proper focus; but it has to be run that way and has to be used in the proper manner.  One thing feeds upon another, one thing grows while another withers. It is up to each one to strive to make the most of what his life can and will be, to learn his lesson and do not forget those who are in the position at the present time of starving have some lesson to learn.        Somewhere in their past, they were lax and greedy. Whether it was in the forest where they would not share, let's say the catch, with another who was beside them or whether it was in another life they laughed at a lowly serf maybe who was thrown the bones when they got through eating the feast.  We see them and we know.
 
   Each person upon the earth today is right where he is supposed to be.  You can feel sorry for yourself or you can feel sorry for your neighbor or your friend and that is good to have sympathy but do not forget in the last analysis, it is the person who finds his way, and works towards his goal in spite of obstacles. And when you cover up the obstacles, they do not learn to climb over and you are stopping the progress and many lives he will have to be lived to accomplish what was intended.
 
   Therefore, I say that your government when it thinks it is helping the many people in your country and in the world it is doing them harm, and not accomplishing what it thinks it is.  There is little that you here can do except to send your prayers and thoughts.  We know you cannot do much but you can take your own lives and do what you can with them.  Send prayers and live and ask that each person no matter which path he is treading, or in what placed he is in may he be given the strength and the light to see how he can solve his own problems.
 
   Do not forget that if some of those people who are groveling even in the desert would take the little bit of land, desert or no, and try to plant some of that which is given them, you say, where will the water come from?  You would be surprised if just a quarter of them would plant part of their little portion, they would bring into being the thought, "We want this to grow" and rain would fall.  They are thinking dry, they are thinking arid, they are thinking hunger, they are thinking death and that is exactly what they are bringing into being and unto themselves.
 
      And if this can happen, think of yourselves and what you think.  Are you thinking tonight I will, I can, I know, or I can't, it isn't there, I will not have it.  No. Put your thought to the Pilgrims and the Indians and follow in their footsteps.  Sometimes, the most primitive people are the greatest.
Good Night.

Sunday March 7, t976

Alyce Andrews, Springfield Church in trance
Today I would like to speak to you about three things, fear, hatred, and procrastination.  Now you wonder why I put this last word in here, because most people say fear and hatred but after I arrived in the spirit world I found that procrastination is just as bad because you are thinking and not really deciding upon anything.  At least fear and hatred are positive in their own way.  Procrastination is very bad because it neither goes one way or the other.  Fear does no good to anyone as I found out.

All the fears that I had upon the earth plane were as nothing when I reached this beautiful land here.  They were naught because in the spirit world there is no fear because all is plain, all is thought and one knows he must go forward not backward.  Hatred does no good to anyone.  It only hurts the one who hates because as hatred goes out it also brings hatred back in another way. 

You were told many times by that great medium who was sent upon the earth that where several are gathered together in thought it becomes manifest.  Now thoughts are things, as you well know.  We also know that you can not feel the same toward everyone because everyone has a vibration within him or her.  It either blends or does not blend with someone else, but it does not mean that you have to hate someone.  That is very bad.  Just give them a thought of love and peace and let it go, but do not hold hatred.

Procrastination is not knowing whether you are going backward or forward or staying in the same place.  In other words it is a nothing thing.  When you arise in the morning make up your mind that today will be fruitful and you will accomplish that which you set out to do.  Try to think of the positive things and leave out the entire negative.  You know we see people come over here who have so many fears in them.  They worry each day so much about what might have been or what has been and so much about what might be or come to be.

They have no time to enjoy today and after the day is over they wonder what good that day was.  Are you going to continue to be that way?  You know we count the many things that people accomplish over here.  We do not stop to think well they did this or that which wasn't good, but we do count those things they have accomplished and sometimes there are a very few.

When I was upon the earth plane, I had many brilliant thoughts about things that people needed and that I might have done, but there again fear came in and I thought," Oh that is a lively thought but I can not accomplish it," and I let it go only to find that perhaps five years later the very thing I thought of someone else had been very happy with and had made much money and much accomplishment in the world for it. 

Now when you receive from our side an inspiration, act upon it, be positive with it, do not throw it aside and say," I can't." Those two words should not be in the language you have, but say, "I can." Oh yes many of you spiritualists have these fears and negative thoughts within you, especially procrastination.  I have been working through this instrument silently. 

This is the first time I have come here, but I have been around her and believe it or not this is one of her bad faults, procrastination.  Now if you are not like this, will you tell her I have been trying to get her on the road to positiveness and each and everyone of you here?  I want you to cast out fear, cast out hatred and stop procrastinating and think of what a beautiful day today is and what you can do with it.  In that way you will build up your road and your life and the eternal future.  Good Day.

August 10, 1975
Given at the Wigwam, Onset, Mass.
through the mediumship
of Alyce Andrews
While on the earth plane, I was Andre Bonabartie and maybe not of great consequence.  I now know that I must put all of my forces, my love, and my energy into one purpose.  So today, I am going to lecture on how important it should be to you to have one purpose and not to scatter your forces, and energy into several directions.  Now you know, if you study, that many of those in the past who were famous and left fortunes or who have left a mark for others upon the earth, had this singleness of purpose.  If they fell, they picked themselves up and went on in the same direction. 

Now  it is all right to have hobbies, and other things, but you must not have too many.  If you are painting as a hobby, then you must put all of your energy into that, because if you try to be proficient in too many things, you soon will find that you do not have proficiency in anything.  It is so, when you work on the spirit.  All who are trying to reach into the spirit world, will find, that they must put all of your energy in to it.  When you do it, you can not have a thought here and a thought there, but it must be concentrated.  You must not scatter thoughts. There are many things that can be done here in the spirit world that you cannot do well upon the earth.

Now, it is necessary for you to concentrate upon each and every thing that you do.  If you want to do two or three things, then you must decide upon one that you want more than the others. You must put most of your time and effort into this one.  One point we must make clear; it is necessary for you to not only have work, study, and a singleness of purpose, but you must also have pleasure, and rest.  Your time must be divided evenly. For a little while you want to be away from what you are studying. So the mind can become freshened, not only with rest, but also, with pleasure.

 Now, I wish to tell you that I see upon the earth plane many people who try to have and know everything.  This you cannot do, because if you put your energy into one thing you will find that it will come along much faster and with much greater purpose and result. This must be, no matter what, and if you want to, do something else, such as music, then you must put all of your energy into that.  I would say to you; have one hobby, or outside activity, one purpose of work, and one form of pleasure. 

If your pleasure is swimming, tennis, reading, or whatever, you cannot do all these things.  You could not possibly be excellent in all.  So, choose, and choose well.  We hope from our side here, that you will choose working for the spirit.  All of your inspiration, and all of that which is given to you, comes from spirit.  So I say to you now, we here know your desires.  We know what you are thinking at all times.  Do not think we do not know.  It is up to you, as you have free will.  We have said this over and over.  Free will is with everyone at all times.  Someone can give you advice, but in the end it is you who decides whether or not you will be proficient or whether you will slide. We give our love from spirit to all of you.  Know that we are with you at all times.  Merci.

Smyth I

Introduction to Alexander Smyth's book
Written in 1864

     In bringing this book before the public, I feel it to be my duty to give some explanation of certain things, which, forming a concatenation of cause and effect, gave origin to it.  The matters I allude to are in relation to my own humble self, which, however, disagreeable to me, I am constrained to do in some respects.

     I am a man of humble circumstances, and have always been so, one who has always labored for his daily bread.  My education has not been received from academy or college; nor have I had the assistance of a tutor excepting in my childhood. I was taught to read the New Testament with a Sunday-school proficiency, so that as far as I have any leaning, I am indebted for it to my own perseverance. Lately, I find that the impulses of my nature have been modified and guarded by some spiritual friends, of whose influence over me I knew nothing at the time.

     I was of a nervous, sanguine temperament, ardent, hopeful and of blissful imagination.  I left my native home when a youth with a resolution to see and enjoy the world; thanks to the care of my kind mother, my morals were good; I had little to gain in that respect, but a great deal to lose. I wandered from place to place, seeking pleasures and information, during many years.  I partook of all things that the world presented, even to some of its vices, and in the course of my wanderings and adventures, I received a blight to my affections; I then became unhappy for a time. 

Then, as a counteractor to sorrow, I contracted an evil habit. This state of things continued for a time as I continued to wander from place to place. Feeling myself an unhappy creature whose affections and blissful hopes were nipped in the bud; whose noble aspirations were checked, whose desire of doing what seemed to me right, was blasted, and whose self-respect was almost gone.

     About this time, when I was in my most distressed condition, I was aroused from my despair, torpor and lack of energy, by a feeling within me of some extraordinary experiences, so astonishing and astounding to me, that it absorbed the whole powers of my mind by day and night. My sorrows were forgotten. My evil habit was neglected; then like Samson of old, I began to shake myself to see where my strength lay and I said to myself, what is it?  What is going to happen?  I reasoned with myself, calling up my scanty amount of philosophy, but could not account for the phenomena.  I went to several doctors, and revealed to them what I had experienced, from whom I received no satisfactory information; but they hinted that my experiences were nothing more than imaginings or hallucinations, and afterward, I heard it whispered about that I was crazy.
 
     After this I left the neighborhood, resolving to keep the subject hereafter locked within myself, and endeavor, by studying the philosophy of nature, to find if possible, the true cause of the phenomena within me. With this resolution I conformed; passing my days in hard work, and leisure times in study; in the mean time, the phenomena occurring to me frequently, how often I can not say, I overcame my evil habit.My life was now much more agreeable.  I was industrious and temperate; yet my old sorrow would now and then oppress me. 

After a time, the phenomena I have alluded to, entirely left me; but others not less wonderful and more agreeable, succeeded them, and continued with me for a great length of time.  The latter were a source of great gratification to me; yet I was ever anxious to discover the cause, however, all my researches were in vain.  I wished to impart to my neighbors these mysterious occurrences; but I was afraid to do so from fear of the results, so I kept them to myself until the year 1843, when I married.

Then the phenomena ceased altogether and did not occur until the year 1858, when I was again visited by them in the usual manner.  Subsequently the subject of Spiritualism attracted my notice, then I proceeded to investigate its merits.  After a few months investigation of the subject, an idea occurred to me that I would inquire of Andrew J. Davis, the Clairvoyant, concerning the mysterious occurrences pertaining to me. Accordingly I wrote him a letter, giving a description of my experiences, which was as follows:

PHILADELPHIA., APRIL 10TH, 1860.  Mr. Davis, Dear Sir:
     Knowing you to be a man of leaning, especially in spiritual and psychological subjects, I take the liberty to address you on a matter of great importance, to me at least, and I hope when you shall have read this letter, that you will give me your serious opinion upon it.

     For Several years I have been the subject of a series of most extraordinary and mysterious internal experiences or developments; I can not say sensations, for I am well aware that what I have undergone did not come through the medium of my five senses.  I am not an illiterate man; yet with all my philosophy I am unable to account for them.  I have read many medical works, but do not find a case recorded similar to mine.  I have conversed with many medical men; but could gain no opinion from them, other than that it was " Hallucination." I have also converse with non-professional persons: the result was, they considered me to be crazy.

     Since then, I have kept the subject locked up within myself, as I am not desirous of being considered either foolish or crazy.  I will now relate the particulars to, you that you may judge:
 
     About, twenty years ago, when I was thirty years of age, I began to notice certain extraordinary occurrences within my person. Sometimes I saw, or inwardly perceived, the main branches of my nervous system burst forth suddenly into beautiful lights of blue and yellow; sometimes down my side, sometimes along my arms, very often on one side of my face or across my brows. These appearances were as quick as a flash of lightning; during which, I perceived the interior of the tubes through which the light passed.

     Frequently when in my bed and about falling to sleep, a noise, sudden and powerful would be heard in my head like the report of a pistol, or the twanging of a large wire. Then a flash of light would pass over the exterior part of the brain, when I could distinctly see the two hemispheres thereof.  At times, an explosion would take place at the back part of my head; then I could perceive the medulla oblongata, and the ramifications of the cerebellum faintly illuminated. 

But the most beautiful and extraordinary of all the instances I experienced but once, it was as follows: One day I was lying on my back dozing, when my slumbers were interrupted by, as I thought, a large fly, which seemed to descend and buzz just between my eyes.  Several times I was thus disturbed, when at last I arose, determined to destroy the intruder if I could catch it.  I searched about, but could find nothing of the kind. 

     Then, thinking that something else might be the cause, I returned to my previous position, resolving to keep on the watch.  As thus I lay for some minutes, without moving a muscle, my eyelids slightly opening, I perceived two yellow luminous specks; one at the inner, and the other at the outer angle of the eye, just beneath the edge of the eyelid. These specks were moving toward each other; the one at the outer angle moving the faster. At length they came in contact, when an explosion like the firing of a pistol took place, passing through my brain; causing every particle of substance to tremble. Then a beautiful yellow and blue light passed through my eyeballs, along the optical tubes up to the brain where I lost it.  During its passage, I saw distinctly the crystalline lens, the retina and the interior of the optical tube.

     These extraordinary occurrences, with the exception of the last, happened frequently to me for several years.  At length they ceased.  For three or four years, I felt like an ordinary man; but soon after this a new development took place within me, of a more pleasing nature, though not less extraordinary. I have never studied music, therefore I know not the names of the different parts, and shall find it difficult to explain to you what I wish; for my internal experience this time, consisted of vocal and instrumental music

     At this period of my life, I lived in the country, being the greater part of my time entirely alone.  It seemed to me, though I was sensible that it could not be so, that there was an instrument of music, situated in the interior part of my brain.  It performed entire pieces without fault; and when it had finished an air, there was a pause for, a few seconds, then it would recommence with the same or another.  It mattered not how I was engaged, nothing I could do would stop it; until it had finished its piece of music, It would continue without pausing. I resorted to various means to stop it. I worked hard, trying to think of nothing but my work. I visited my neighbors to pass the time in social chat. I took long walks and runs; but all in vain. 

The music continued its sweet notes, performing whole pieces over and over in the most harmonious style; the tunes resembling those of a small metallic organ or music box.  This continued about a year, when it was succeeded by the music of voices; the latter, unlike the former, seemed to take place externally to me, and to be some distance above me in the air. I could distinguish three voices performing various pieces, sacred and otherwise, in succession, with great precision and harmony. 

Some of the airs were familiar and some were not; but all the tunes were the richest kind.  I will observe in this place that some of the pieces performed, both vocal and instrumental, I had learned many years before, but had forgotten them; while others, which I but partially remembered, my mysterious powers performed without fault. At length the instrumental music died away, leaving me to be entertained by the vocal music alone. The latter remaining with me three years, commencing as soon as I awoke in the morning, and continuing with but little intermission through the day, and the last moment of my wakefulness at night.

      Perhaps you may think there was some disturbance or disease either in my body or mind, but I assure you there was not; I had perfect health of body, was entirely sober and rational, and in a happy mood of mind, generally, though a poor man.

    Frequently have I thought, when walking along the country road, listening to my musical powers, how pleasing it would be if I could believe in the existence of Good Spirits!  I could then have reason to think that I had found favor with some of them, which might be hovering above and around me, endeavoring to cheer me with their songs.  At that time I did not believe in the Spirit World, though since, I have felt inclined to admit the rationality of the doctrine.

These mysterious visiting have left me for some time past.  They were generally agreeable to me, and would have been more so could I have spoken of them to my neighbors, without fear of being considered crazy
I have now to relate to you a new phase of their strange workings within me. which has completely astounded me, and for the first time produced an uneasy perplexity.  I have been in the habit, since I have been married, of reading an hour or two after my family had retired for the night; so, it is generally near midnight when I seek my bed.

One night last week, between ten and eleven o'clock while reading as usual, my attention was withdrawn from my book by the shrill, lively notes of an instrument which sounded to me like the shepherd's pipe of ancient days. It seemed to play a series of a. lively variations and quavers. Like the fluttering butterfly, it was here, there, and everywhere; above and around me, When after about two minutes it ceased, then all was still. I hurried into the yard of the house, looked around, but could discover nobody about at that time of night.

 Returning to my room, the next few moments were passed in awful suspense. This did not last long for hearing two persons discoursing seized my attention. They seemed from their voices, to be of the male sex.  I could not distinguish what they said, as their voices seemed to be too far above me; but I caught the names of several persons who, I knew according to history, had lived many centuries ago.

 Their discourse lasted a few minutes, then it ceased.  There was a dead silence for a few seconds, during which I was rooted to the floor motionless, all the powers of my mind and soul being absorbed in wondering suspense. Again I heard a few notes from the mysterious pipe, and then a voice, powerful and distinct, called me by name. As you may imagine, I was struck mute and motionless with astonishment. With suspended breath I anxiously listened in expectation of hearing more, but nothing followed that night, for I was too much afraid to respond to the call. Since then, I have abandoned my nocturnal readings."

   Such is the substance of the letter I wrote to A. J. Davis, desiring him to give me his opinion and advice upon the strange matter. He published the same in his journal, the "Herald of Progress," for May 12th 1860, and May 19th, he published an article in answer to it.  The important points relating to my communication are as follows:

“The case of Alexander S--- is not new in the annals of mystery; the introverted action of the mind is possible, but rarely experienced.  Swedenborg's condition was oftentimes not unlike that of Mr. S---, showing the naturalness of such visitations whenever the mind's internal arrangements are propitious. In such experiences, it is absurd to reject the hypothesis of Spiritual instigation.  But it would be equally absurd to suppose that the Spirits were personally present, superintending each metamorphosis of internal action, as many persons are disposed to conclude from the mysterious novelty of the experience.

In examining the mind's internal mechanism, we get at not only the actions of the organs, but also discern the nature of the action.  Each part of the mind diffuses a particular influence all over the constitution. The influences that have emanated from all the parts constitute sensation, or the lightning of the nervous system. Inasmuch as human beings are organized upon the same principle, as it happens that an influence imparted to another, awakens in that other effects analogous to those felt by the one who imparted it.  Thus a combative person, on his imparting his original influence, will cause another to feel identical sensations.  The same is true of every other organ.

   These facts are familiar to modern psychologists.  They stand in the gateway between heaven and earth, preventing at once too much doubt; for such facts demonstrate the double nature of man, and at the same time, that he is not the cause of all spiritual phenomena.  The automatic hemisphere of mind is quite as marvelous as the counter-hemisphere of voluntary powers, and when truly studied, man becomes as much a wonder before death, as when he returns in the estate of spirit.

   It would seem judging from our correspondent's testimony, that his own spirit carried on the process originally instigated by the invisible intelligence. They had diffused an influence upon his nervous system, which entering into chemical combination with the sensitive elements, they (the spirits) could neither control nor extract from their subject.  It is evident that many spirits have little knowledge of their own abilities to control the influence they cast upon the mediums. 

The consequence was, what should have been voluntary and under the control of the wishes or will, became instead, automatic and beyond management. The vibrations and concessive sounds, and the instantaneous representations of the nervous system, etc., by means of beautiful lights, were inevitable effects, whenever his own and the foreign influences met, like two tiny thunderclouds of opposite polarity. this vision was with the eyes, but by means of the pervading optical influence; that is to say, the sensitive medium of physical sight was impressed with the internal facts and recurring phenomena. 

This explanation is intended to cover all cases of this kind; but one thing is remarkable, yet agreeing with our explanation; we refer to the repetitions or recurring character of his experiences, no other facts more clearly illustrate the occult operations of his own mental machinery.  The Spirit Guardian, for example, would start a tune in his memory perhaps impart an influence to the organic center where music is perceived by the mind, then the impressed and propulsed faculties would go forward with the operation.

     We have seen this phenomena many times in persons who were impressed to address an audience, or to write a poem. The Spirit Guardian of the medium would set the machinery in motion, and then retire; whereupon the medium's mind would take up the operation, and continue, as though it were an unthinking automaton. 

But there is evidence better, the hearing of one's name pronounced by tongues in the air. In this case, the spiritual ear is reached the floors, roofs and leagues of atmosphere vanish from the spaces between the speaker and the listener.  They seem to stand in each other's presence; the whole ocean of human existence is stilled for the moment, and the person addressed by a voice from Heaven, is either paralyzed with fright, or exuberant with gratification.  Such a moment is sublime, because it seems to dissipate all doubt, and to reveal the external future.  Heaven grant that all men may know the truth, and be free."

     After reading Mr. Davis' reply to my communication, I considered myself much enlightened on the subject, much relieved of my timidity. And after some mature reflection, I resolved, that if there was a Spirit wishing to communicate with me, I would avail myself of the opportunity, and with as much firmness as I could assume, I invite the invisible intelligence to further proceedings. Accordingly, the following night, I was seated in my room alone, with writing materials and a book before me.

     The clock struck eleven; I endeavored to read, but it was a vain effort, for I understood not what I read, my mind being absorbed by subjects of greater moment. A thousand thoughts flitted through my mind; some of a hopeful, and some of a doubtful nature, and some fearfully speculative. "Is it possible such things can be?" I asked myself.  "Shall I really hold communion with a Spirit of the other world?" “Who can it be?" "What can be the purport of the visit?" Such questions occurred to me mentally. 

Oh! With what eager expectancy did I wish for the moment to solve their mysteries!  Thus some minutes passed, all around me being silent as death, as I waited with an intense uneasy suspense.  At length, as though coming from a distant field, I heard the sweet, playful notes of the shepherds, pipe, faint and low at first, then increasing in strength, as they seemed to approach me. 

This music, I allowed to be, an announcement that my spiritual visitor was approaching me.  As the first sounds of the pipe impressed me, all the powers of my mind and soul seemed instantly to concentrate themselves, and suspend their connection with my body.  Still I heard the music, and I then became convinced, that I did not hear it through the medium of bodily ears, At length the music ceased; when a voice the same as I before had heard called me by name.

"Who calls me?" I inquired mentally, with considerable trepidation. I am the spirit of one, who, like you in nature, once inhabited the earth as mortal man, far back in the history of nations," answered the voice, in a grave manly tone.
"Make known your name and prove your identity, and then communicate your wishes,," I replied, with a little more assurance; for I thought it prudent to know in the commencement, with whom I was communicating.
“Here are two spirits present," answered the voice," the one that addresses you is Saul of Tarsus; or better known to the inhabitants of earth as Paul the Apostle.  My companion is Judas Iscariot; I presume you have read of us both, in that book called the New Testament.  If so, I beg of you not to form any idea of us from that book, for it does not contain an item of truth relating to our true character or history.

 That book, which received its origin through my influence speaks of me as being one of the best, purest, noblest and most pious mortals that ever lived; and my companion, Judas, as one of the worst that possibly could be.  The fact is, if you were to reverse the characters given of us in that book, you would come nearer the truth.  It is true, that Judas was a selfish man; and that he was guilty of ingratitude and cruelty in betraying the good man, Jesus of Nazareth, to Sanhedrim; but however heinous his offense may be to you, it will admit of extenuation, when the truth is known.  It was I friend Alexander, who was the plotter and instigator of that horrid tragedy-, the death of Jesus.

Judas Iscariot was in my power; he acted at my suggestion, and did my bidding; he received the opprobrium of the evil deed, while I, the true actor, escaped with impunity. But that black deed was only one item of the many black crimes of which I was guilty during my career of pious hypocrisy while on earth.  The facts of which, I intend to bring to your notice; in so doing, I shall prove my identity, for no man or spirit can unravel my wicked career, excepting myself."

     "How shall I know or believe, what you say to me to be truth?" I inquired of the spirit, "since you have given yourself so bad a character?"
To be continued

Andrew Jackson Davis born August 11,1826 is known as a forerunner to Modem Spiritualism.
I want to call your attention to the fly buzz that Mr. Smyth tells about.  This has been experienced by others the first that I want to mention is Emily Dickinson in her poem Dying where she tell about the fly.

Dying

         I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.

             The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
      And breaths were gathering sure
     For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.

         I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
     Could make assignable,- and then
There interposed a fly,

With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see.

In ECKANKAR Ancient Wisdom for Today we have this.
The Etheric Plane
Marking the border between the lower and higher worlds of Divine Spirit is the Etheric Plane.  This is the source of our subconscious, and primitive thoughts.  The Dayaka Temple of Golden Wisdom is Located here in the city of Arhirit, and the guardian of the Shariyat- Ki-Sugmad is Lai Tsi.  You can recognize the Etheric Plane by the sound of the buzzing bees. 

As you unfold spiritually, you'll travel through the various God Worlds of ECK.  This journey will be a unique experience because we are all individuals, each at a different point in our unfoldment.
Sometime ago a young medium told me that she hears what seem like a fly buzz when she leaves her body and more often when she returns to her body.  This happened before I became aware of the phenomenon.  This buzzing may be caused by the discharge of an electrical charge.

Smyth 2

"Friend Alexander” said another spiritual voice, which I judged to be Judas Iscariot, "you may believe what my friend Saul says to you, for he is quite a different personage to what he was when on earth.  It is true, that then, he was one of the worst men, as a hypocrite, liar, defrauder and murderer. I also, was not the most innocent and harmless of men.. But since then there has been a great lapse of time; thousands of worlds have been brought into existence, and thousands destroyed.  In everything on earth, and in the Spirit World, as well, great changes have been produced for the better; therefore you must not be surprised that Saul and Judas are no longer what they once were.  Indeed, friend Alexander, we are spirits of a much-improved nature, since we acted our wicked parts upon the earth.  We have had nearly eighteen centuries of isolation and separation from the harmonious society of the Spirit World. Which time we have passed in fasting, repining, remorse and repentance, endeavoring to purge ourselves from the wickedness of our mortal lives, and to render ourselves capable of entering upon our spiritual career. I must inform you that we have not struggled in vain. There is but one other task we have to achieve before we shall be entitled to take our positions among the exalted.  My companion, Saul, will inform you what that is."
"What is the purport of your communications I inquired of the Spirits.
"My friend, for so I must consider you, as I will explain presently," responded the Spirit Saul. "Judas has informed you that we have passed many centuries, in a state of isolation, and separation from the happy spirits of this world, which became a necessity, self-in- flicked punishment, before we could become worthy of mingling in social harmony with other Spirits.  You can have no idea of the nature and extent of the punishment we have undergone. No hell that ever was invented by earthly priests can equal it in severity; yet, there is no hell or torture inflicted in the Spirit World.  Every Spirit that comes here brings the means of his punishment with him in his own nature, which is the stings of his evil conscience.  When a Spirit passes from the earth to this world, every trait of his nature, habits, principles and passions are delineated on his spiritual features; so that lies and deceptions are totally useless here. The Spirits are examined as they come, and then placed in society and positions, corresponding to their natures, which they possessed in their earthly life. When I made my appearance, after being killed by Nero's order. All the Spirits who saw me were startled with horror; when they discovered the many traits of my wicked nature no society would receive me, all fled from me with loathing. At length, I was driven to a solitary desert spot, on the outskirts of the lowest sphere: there to so remain until my evil nature had consumed itself in sorrow, remorse, wailing's, and a deprivation of that celestial pabulum which constitutes the food of the Spirits in this world.  I was cut off from all noble and intelligent society, cut off from the good and happy; all was gloom and barrenness around me.  The light, heat and glory of God did not penetrate my wretched locality; the stings of my conscience and memory, with the hunger of my spiritual body, became so intense, that I wished to be annihilated.  But I could not die.
     Oh the agony of ceaseless hunger is greater than all the other sufferings that can be endured!  As Judas was my confidant and agent on the earth, he knew all my iniquities and wicked designs; he served me with great zeal in the execution of my conspiracy against the good man, Jesus.  I was therefore in the power of Judas in that respect; I was afraid that he might expose my crimes to the world, to prevent which; I rewarded his faithful, though sinful services, by taking his life.  When I passed into the Spirit World, I found that Judas, by the decree of our spiritual superiors, was to be my only companion during the long term of my spiritual exile and purification. Judge then, if you can, the reception I met with from him, when we met at the cheerless spot assigned us.  With all the rancor, hate and vindictiveness that it is possible for a wicked Spirit to possess, Judas assailed me. All my blackest deeds he continually brought to my remembrance; all my frauds, hypocrisies and meanness, he used as so many venomous stings to wound my agonizing and remorseful conscience.  I endeavored to retort in a similar manner; but he was invulnerable to my less powerful attacks while I continually suffered under his lashes.  Oh!  My Friend Alexander, mankind need not think that there is a hell in the Spirit World to punish the wicked; for the wicked will carry with them hells sufficiently poignant to punish them for their misdeeds. 
     So it was with Judas and me from our remorse our mutual recrimination, our ceaseless hunger, and our hopeless state; our immortal states were most horribly wretched.  This miserable state continued from year to year, from age to age, and century to century, until the blackness of our hearts, and the turpitude of our minds, were gradually consumed by our anguish.  After the lapse of more than seventeen centuries, the Powers above us, who regulate our spiritual conditions, relieved us from our dreary and painful exile.  Finding us penitent, humble and completely changed for the better, they received us into the society of the Spirits and ameliorated our condition, by which we could receive comforts and continue to improve ourselves.  We rapidly improved; suavity, serenity and tranquil enjoyments, succeeded to our bitterness of nature.  A love of truth and justice, and a desire to do what is right, succeeded to our past evil proclivities.  A great thirst for knowledge possessed us; for we found that all, who aspired to a higher condition, must render themselves capable, by knowledge of all things. Thus nearly another century passed on, in course of which, we have so improved in our natures, that we are the very opposite of our former selves. We are now promised to be exalted to a higher sphere, after we shall have accomplished a certain task, which is the cause or motive we have, in communicating with you."
     "What may be the nature of that task, and how related to me?  I inquired of the Spirits. "We are requested," answered the Spirit Saul, " as an act of atonement for our past wicked deeds, for the benefit of mankind, that we should descend to the earth, and seek out a man to act as our agent and confessor.  To him, make known our misdeeds, as connected with the conspiracy and death of Jesus of Nazareth.  To make known to the world,, the true history of that good man, who was the victim of our wickedness, to disabuse the world of the lies, errors and follies to which they render their faith and homage.  Such is the task we have to perform before we are admitted to a higher sphere of exaltation. The first step we have taken, is to select you, Alexander, to be our medium and agent, through which we will publish to the world the important truths which we have to make known" "Why have you selected me to be your medium and agent on earth?  I inquired of Saul; being desirous to know his motive in so doing. "Could you not find a man more befitting the office than I? I have no influence or wealth to aid me in doing your bidding, even should I be enabled to furnish the talent and opportunity." " It matters not," responded Saul; "you are the one selected, and you must comply.  However, I have not any objections to acquaint you in part with the reasons why you are selected.  If I were to tell you all the reasons, they possibly might make you vain, which I do not wish to do.  When our Spiritual Powers imposed upon us the task, they requested that the man we should select for our medium should be one who had lived half a century at least, and that he should profess certain qualities, which I will not name.  To these conditions we were obliged to give our assent, if we wished to achieve our own object in view, though we knew it would be very difficult to find such a man. However, we descended to the earth to look for our man; but after several years wandering and searching, we found all our efforts to be in vain, for such a man was not to be found. We found many that were represented to be such as we wanted but after minutely investigating their private characters, we found them lacking in the main qualities.  We therefore gave up the search as a hopeless affair. Sometime afterward, Judas and I were holding a consultation as to what we should do, when, casting our eyes below upon the mundane scene, we beheld a little boy reading his Bible to his mother, while she worked with her needle in her chair. Something in the physiognomy of the boy excited our curiosity, so that we drew near.  As the boy read, the subject seem to shock his sense of truth; for he left off reading and asked his mother if that which he read was true.  The mother felt shocked that her child seemed to doubt what she considered to be the word of God.  She accordingly, told the child that it was true.  The boy with great energy, replied, 'mother, I can not believe it'. 'That is a noble boy' I observed to Judas; "his love and just sense of truth prevents him giving credence to the fables and lies of that old book; though his fond mother tells him it is truth itself'. "Saul", said Judas to me, with sudden vivacity, "an idea strikes me, by which we may accomplish our object. Suppose we were to take that little boy under our guardian care, screen him from all harm, and direct his mind in all matters necessary and good; protecting him until he shall arrive at fifty years of age, then we can make him our medium and agent.  I thought the plan of Judas to be an excellent one; accordingly we took the boy under tutelary care. That little boy, Friend Alexander, was yourself." "Ah" I exclaimed, and said, "I do remember the incident, and I was then about nine years of age. I was in the daily practice of reading the Bible to my mother at her request; I remember the chapter and verse, and from that day, I doubted the truth of the old book. But tell me, Saul; have you and Judas been my Guardian Spirits ever since?" We have," replied Saul; " and we have done you many services, unknown to you. We have saved your life several times. Once when you were a boy, you were in a tree on one of the highest branches, trying to steal a bird's nest, when the limb gave way; you fell, and certainly would have lost your life had I not saved you.  When you were a young man, you traveled in France, where we guided you though many dangers.