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LETTERS FROM A 
 LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
BY ELS A BARKER 
 
 THE SON OF MARY BETHEL 
 
 THE FROZEN GRAIL 
 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE 
 
 THE SONG OF SAVITRI 
 
 STORIES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT 
 
 FOR CHILDREN 
 THE SCAB 
 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
LETTERS 
 
 FROM A 
 
 LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 WRITTEN DOWN 
 
 BY 
 
 ELSA BARKER 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 
 1-914 
 
COPYRIGHT 1914 BY 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 
 APR 29 1914 
 
 f 
 
 '©CI.A371598 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 letter page 
 
 Introduction 5 
 
 I. The Return 15 
 
 II. Tell No Man 16 
 
 III. Guarding the Door 18 
 
 IV. A Cloud on the Mirror 19 
 V. The Promise of Things Untold 21 
 
 VI. The Wand of Will 22 
 
 VII. A Light behind the Veil 24 
 
 VIII. The Iron Grip of Matter 26 
 
 IX. Where Souls go up and down . 28 
 
 X. A Rendezvous in the Fourth Dimension 30 
 
 XI. The Boy— Lionel 35 
 
 XII. The Pattern World 40 
 
 XIII. Forms Real and Unreal . 44 
 
 XIV. A Folio of Paracelsus 47 
 XV. A Roman Toga 51 
 
 XVI. A Thing to be forgotten 56 
 
 XVII. The Second Wife over there 64 
 
 XVIII. Individual Hells 70 
 
 XIX. A Little Home in Heaven 71 
 
 XX. The Man who found God 78 
 
 XXI. The Leisure of the Soul 84 
 
 XXII. The Serpent of Eternity 90 
 
 XXIII. A Brief for the Defendant 97 
 
 XXIV. Forbidden Knowledge 101 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 LETTER PAGE 
 
 XXV. A Shadowless World 104 
 
 XXVI. Circles in the Sand 109 
 
 XXVII. The Magic Ring 115 
 
 XXVIII. Except ye be as Little Children 121 
 
 XXIX. An Unexpected Warning 126 
 
 XXX. The Sylph and the Magician 131 
 
 XXXI. A Problem in Celestial Mathematics 139 
 
 XXXII. A Change of Focus 147 
 
 XXXIII. Five Resolutions 153 
 
 XXXIV. The Passing of Lionel 158 
 XXXV. The Beautiful Being 16T 
 
 XXXVI. The Hollow Sphere 173 
 
 XXXVII. An Empty China Cup 179 
 
 XXXVIII. Where Time is not . 187 
 
 XXXIX. The Doctrine of Death 195 
 
 XL. The Celestial Hdsrarchy 205 
 
 XLI. The Darling of the Unseen 210 
 
 XLII. A Victim of the Non-existent 319 
 
 XLIII. A Cloud of Witnesses 228 
 
 XLIV. The Kingdom Within 235 
 
 XLV. The Game of Make-beld2VE 237 
 
 XLVI. Heirs of Hermes 241 
 
 XLVII. Only a Song 247 
 
 XLVIII. Invisible Gifts at Yuletdde 250 
 
 XLIX. The Greater Dreamland 258 
 
 L. A Sermon and a Promise 265 
 
 LI. The April of the World 273 
 
 LII. A Happy Wtoower 276 
 
 LIII. The Archives of the Soul 284 
 
 LIV. A Formula for Mastership 288 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ONE night last year in Paris I was strongly 
 impelled to take up a pencil and write, 
 though what I was to write about I had no idea. 
 Yielding to the impulse, my hand was seized as if 
 from the outside, and a remarkable message of a 
 personal nature came, followed by the signature 
 "X." 
 
 The purport of the message was clear, but the 
 signature puzzled me. 
 
 The following day I showed this writing to a 
 friend, asking her if she had any idea who "X" 
 was. 
 
 "Why," she replied, "don't you know that that 
 is what we always call Mr. -?" 
 
 I did not know. 
 
 Now, Mr. was six thousand miles from 
 
 Paris, and, as we supposed, in the land of the liv- 
 ing. But a day or two later a letter came to me 
 
 from America, stating that Mr. had died in 
 
 the western part of the United States, a few days 
 before I received in Paris the automatic message 
 signed "X." 
 
 5 
 
6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 So far as I know, I was the first person in 
 Europe to be informed of his death, and I imme- 
 diately called on my friend to tell her that "X" 
 had passed out. She did not seem surprised, and 
 told me that she had felt certain of it some days 
 before, when I had shown her the "X" letter, 
 though she had not said so at the time. 
 
 Naturally I was impressed by this extraor- 
 dinary incident. 
 
 "X" was not a spiritualist. I am not myself, 
 and never have been, a spiritualist, and, so far as 
 I can remember, only two other supposedly dis- 
 embodied entities had ever before written auto- 
 matically through my hand. This had happened 
 when I was in the presence of a mediumistic per- 
 son; but the messages were brief, and I had not 
 attached any great importance to the phenomena. 
 
 In childhood I had several times put my hand 
 upon a planchette with the hand of another per- 
 son, and the planchette had written the usual 
 trivialities. On one occasion, some months before 
 the first "X" letter, I had put my hand upon a 
 planchette with the hand of a non-professional 
 medium, and the prophecy of a fire in my house 
 during a certain month in the following year was 
 written, supposedly by a dead friend, which 
 prophecy was literally verified, though the fire 
 
INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 was not caused by my hand, nor was it in my own 
 apartment. 
 
 A few times, years before, I had been persuaded 
 by friends to go with them to professional seances, 
 and had seen so-called materialisations. I had 
 also seen independently a few appearances which 
 I could not account for on any other hypothesis 
 than that of apparitions of the dead. 
 
 But to the whole subject of communication be- 
 tween the two worlds I felt an unusual degree of 
 indifference. Spiritualism had always left me 
 quite cold, and I had not even read the ordinary 
 standard works on the subject. 
 
 Nevertheless, I had for a number of years al- 
 most daily seen "hypnagogic visions," often of a 
 startlingly prophetic character; and the explana- 
 tion of them later given by "X" may be the true 
 explanation. 
 
 Soon after my receipt of the letter from Amer- 
 ica stating that Mr. was dead, I was sitting 
 
 in the evening with the friend who had told me 
 who "X" was, and she asked me if I would not let 
 him write again — if he could. 
 
 I consented, more to please my friend than from 
 any personal interest, and the message beginning, 
 "I am here, make no mistake," came through my 
 hand. It came with breaks and pauses between 
 
8 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 the sentences, with large and badly formed letters, 
 but quite automatically, as in the first instance. 
 The force used on this occasion was such that my 
 right hand and arm were lame the following day. 
 
 Several letters signed "X" were automatically 
 written during the next few weeks; but, instead 
 of becoming enthusiastic, I developed a strong dis- 
 inclination for this manner of writing, and was 
 only persuaded to continue it through the argu- 
 ments of my friend that if "X" really wished to 
 communicate with the world, I was highly privi- 
 leged in being able to help him. 
 
 "X" was not an ordinary person. He was a 
 well-known lawyer nearly seventy years of age, a 
 profound student of philosophy, a writer of 
 books, a man whose pure ideals and enthusiasms 
 were an inspiration to everyone who knew him. 
 His home was far from mine, and I had seen 
 him only at long intervals. So far as I remem- 
 ber, we had never discussed the question of post- 
 mortem consciousness. 
 
 Gradually, as I conquered my strong preju- 
 dice against automatic writing, I became inter- 
 ested in the things which "X" told me about the 
 life beyond the grave. I had read practically 
 nothing on the subject, not even the popular Let- 
 ters from Julia, so I had no preconceived ideas. 
 
INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 The messages continued to come. After a 
 while there was no more lameness of the hand 
 and arm, and the form of the writing be- 
 came less irregular, though it was never very 
 legible. 
 
 For a time the letters were written in the pres- 
 ence of my friend; then "X" began to come al- 
 ways when I was alone. He wrote either in Paris 
 or in London, as I went back and forth between 
 those two cities. Sometimes he would come sev- 
 eral times a week; again, nearly a month would 
 elapse without my feeling his presence. I never 
 called him, nor did I think much about him be- 
 tween his visits. During most of the time my 
 pen and my thoughts were occupied with other 
 matters. 
 
 Only in one instance before the writing began 
 had I any idea as to what the letter would con- 
 tain. One night as I took up the pencil I knew 
 what "X" was going to write about; but, though 
 I remember the incident, I have forgotten to 
 which message it referred. 
 
 While writing these letters I was generally in 
 a state of semi-consciousness, so that, until I read 
 the message over afterwards, I had only a vague 
 idea of what it contained. In a few instances I 
 was so near unconsciousness that as I laid down 
 
I'O LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 the pencil I had not the remotest idea of what 
 I had written; but this did not often happen. 
 
 When it was first suggested that these letters 
 should be published with an introduction by me, I 
 did not take very enthusiastically to the idea. 
 Being the author of several books, more or less 
 well known, I had my little vanity as to the sta- 
 bility of my literary reputation. I did not wish 
 to be known as an eccentric, a "freak." But I 
 consented to write an introduction stating that 
 the letters were automatically written in my pres- 
 ence, which would have been the truth, though not 
 all the truth. This satisfied my friend; but as 
 time went on, it did not satisfy me. It seemed not 
 quite sincere. 
 
 I argued the matter out with myself. If, I 
 said, I publish these letters without a personal 
 introduction, they will be taken for a work of 
 fiction, of imagination, and the remarkable state- 
 ments they contain will thus lose all their force 
 as convincing arguments for the truth of a here- 
 after. If I write an introduction stating that they 
 came by supposedly automatic writing in my pres- 
 ence, the question will naturally arise as to whose 
 hand they came through, and I shall be forced 
 to evasion. But if I frankly acknowledge that 
 they came through my own hand, and state the 
 
INTRODUCTION II 
 
 facts exactly as they are only two hypotheses will 
 be open: first, that they are genuine communica- 
 tions from the disembodied entity; second, that 
 they are lucubrations of my own subconscious 
 mind. But this latter hypothesis does not explain 
 the first letter signed "X," which came before I 
 knew that my friend was dead; does not explain 
 it unless it be assumed that the subconscious mind 
 of each person knows everything. In which case, 
 why should my subconscious mind set out upon a 
 long and laborious deception of me, on a premise 
 which had not been suggested to it by my own 
 objective mind, or that of any other person? 
 
 That anyone would accuse me of deliberate 
 deceit and romancing in so serious a matter did 
 not then and does not now seem likely, my fancy 
 having other and legitimate outlets in poetry and 
 fiction. 
 
 The letters were probably two-thirds written 
 before this question was finally settled; and I de- 
 cided that if I published the letters at all, I should 
 publish them with a frank introduction, stating 
 the exact circumstances of their reception by me. 
 
 The actual writing covered a period of more 
 than eleven months. Then came the question of 
 editing. What should I leave out? What should 
 I include? I determined to leave out nothing 
 
12 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 except personal references to "X's" private af- 
 fairs, to mine, and to those of his friends. I 
 have not added anything. Occasionally, when 
 "XV literary style was clumsy, I have recon- 
 structed a sentence or cut out a repetition; but I 
 have taken far less liberty than I used, as an edi- 
 tor, to take with ordinary manuscripts submitted 
 to me for correction. 
 
 Sometimes "X" is very colloquial, sometimes 
 he uses legal phraseology, or American slang. 
 Often he jumps from one subject to another, as 
 one does in friendly correspondence, going back 
 to his original subject without a connecting 
 phrase. 
 
 He has made a few statements relative to the 
 future life which are directly contrary to the 
 opinions which I have always held. These state- 
 ments remain as they were written. Many of his 
 philosophical propositions were quite new to me. 
 Sometimes I did not see their profundity until 
 months afterwards. 
 
 I have no apology to offer for the publication 
 of these letters. They are probably an inter- 
 esting document, whatever their source may be, 
 and I give them to the world with no more fear 
 than when I gave my hand to "X" in the writing 
 of them. 
 
INTRODUCTION 1 3 
 
 If anyone asks the question, What do I myself 
 think as to whether these letters are genuine com- 
 munications from the invisible world, I should an- 
 swer that I believe they are. In the personal and 
 suppressed portions reference was often made to 
 past events and to possessions of which I had 
 no knowledge, and these references were verified. 
 This leaves untouched the favourite telepathic 
 theory of the psychologists. But if these letters 
 were telepathed to me, by whom were they tele- 
 pathed? Not by my friend who was present at 
 the writing of many of them, for their contents 
 were as much a surprise to her as to me. 
 
 I wish, however, to state that I make no scien- 
 tific claims about this book, for science demands 
 tests and proofs. Save for the first letter signed 
 
 "X" before I knew that Mr. was dead, or 
 
 knew who "X" was, the book was not written 
 under "test conditions," as the psychologists un- 
 derstand the term. As evidence of a soul's sur- 
 vival after bodily death, it must be accepted or 
 rejected by each individual according to his or 
 her temperament, experience, and inner conviction 
 as to the truth of its contents. 
 
 In the absence of "X" and without some other 
 entity on the invisible side of Nature in whom 
 I had a like degree of confidence, I could not pro- 
 
14 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 duce another document of this kind. Against in- 
 discriminate mediumship I have still a strong and 
 ineradicable prejudice, for I recognise its dangers 
 both of obsession and deception. But for my 
 faith in "X" and the faith of my Paris friend in 
 me, this book could never have been. Doubt of 
 the invisible author or of the visible medium 
 would probably have paralysed both, for the pur- 
 poses of this writing. 
 
 The effect of these letters on me personally 
 has been to remove entirely any fear of death 
 which I may ever have had, to strengthen my be- 
 lief in immortality, to make the life beyond the 
 grave as real and vital as the life here in the sun- 
 shine. If they can give even to one other person 
 the sense of exultant immortality which they have 
 given to me, I shall feel repaid for my labour. 
 
 To those who may feel inclined to blame me 
 for publishing such a book I can only say that 
 I have always tried to give my best to the world, 
 and perhaps these letters are one of the best 
 things that I have to give. 
 
 ELSA BARKER. 
 
 London, 1913. 
 
LETTERS FROM A LIVING 
 DEAD MAN 
 
 LETTER I 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
 1AM here, make no mistake. 
 It was I who spoke before, and I now speak 
 again. 
 
 I have had a wonderful experience. Much 
 that I had forgotten I can now remember. What 
 has happened was for the best; it was inevitable. 
 
 I can see you, though not very distinctly. 
 
 I found almost no darkness. The light here 
 is wonderful, far more wonderful than the sun- 
 light of the South. 
 
 No, I cannot yet see my way very well around 
 Paris; everything is different It is probably by 
 reason of your own vitality that I am able to see 
 you at this moment. 
 
 15 
 
LETTER II 
 
 TELL NO MAN 
 
 1AM opposite to you now in actual space; 
 that is, I am directly in front of you, resting 
 on something which is probably a couch or divan. 
 
 It is easier to come to you after dark. 
 
 I remembered on going out that you might be 
 able to let me speak through your hand. 
 
 I am already stronger. It is nothing to fear 
 — this change of condition. 
 
 I cannot tell you yet how long I was silent. It 
 did not seem long. 
 
 It was I who signed "X." The Teacher helped 
 me to make the connexion. 
 
 You had better tell no one for a while, except 
 
 , that I have come, as I do not want any 
 
 obstructions to my coming when and where I will. 
 Lend me your hand sometimes; I will not mis- 
 use it. 
 
 I am going to stay out here until I am ready to 
 come back with power. Watch for me, but not 
 yet. 
 
 16 
 
TELL NO MAN 1 7 
 
 Things seem easier to me now than they have 
 seemed for a long time. I carry less weight. I 
 could have held on longer in the body, but it did 
 not seem worth the effort. 
 
 I have seen the Teacher. He is near. His 
 attitude to me is very comforting. 
 
 But I would like to go now. Good night. 
 
LETTER III 
 
 GUARDING THE DOOR 
 
 YOU need to take certain precautions to 
 protect yourself against those who press 
 round me. 
 
 You have only to lay a spell upon yourself 
 night and morning. Nothing can get through that 
 wall — nothing which you forbid your soul to en- 
 tertain. 
 
 Do not let any of your energy be sucked out 
 of you by these larvae of the astral world. No, 
 they cannot annoy me, for I am now used to the 
 idea of them. You have absolutely nothing to 
 fear, if you protect yourself. 
 
 18 
 
LETTER IV 
 
 A CLOUD ON THE MIRROR 
 
 {After a sentence had been half written, the 
 writing suddenly stopped, and was continued 
 later. ) 
 
 WHEN you respond to my call, wipe clean 
 your mind as a child wipes its slate when 
 ready for a new maxim or example by its teacher. 
 Your lightest personal thought or fancy may be 
 as a cloud upon a mirror, blurring the reflection. 
 
 You can receive letters by this means, provided 
 your mind does not begin to work independently, 
 to question in the midst of the writing. 
 
 I was not stopped this time, as before, by beings 
 gathering round; but by your own curiosity as 
 to the end of an unusual sentence. You suddenly 
 became positive instead of negative, as if the re- 
 ceiving instrument in a telegraph office should be- 
 gin to send a message of its own. 
 
 I have learned here the reason for many psy- 
 chic things which formerly puzzled me, and I am 
 
 19 
 
20 BETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 determined if possible to protect you from the 
 danger of cross-currents in this work. 
 
 There was one night when I called and you 
 would not let me in. Was that kind? 
 
 But I am not reproaching you. I shall come 
 again and again, until my work is done. 
 
 I will come to you in a dream before long, and 
 will show you many things. 
 
LETTER V 
 
 THE PROMISE OF THINGS UNTOLD 
 
 AFTER a time I will share with you certain 
 knowledge that I have gained since coming 
 out. I see the past now as through an open win- 
 dow. I see the road by which I have come, and 
 can map out the road by which I mean to go. 
 
 Everything seems easy now. I could do twice 
 as much work as I do — I feel so strong. 
 
 As yet I have not settled down anywhere, but 
 am moving about as the fancy takes me; that is 
 what I always dreamed of doing while in the 
 body, and never could make possible. 
 
 Do not fear death; but stay on earth as long 
 as you can. Notwithstanding the companionship 
 I have here, I sometimes regret my failure in hold- 
 ing on to the world. But regrets have less weight 
 on this side — like our bodies. 
 
 Everything is well with me. 
 
 I will tell you things that have never been told. 
 
 21 
 
LETTER VI 
 
 THE WAND OF WILL 
 
 NOT yet do you grasp the full mystery of 
 will. It can make of you anything you 
 choose, within the limit of your unit energy, for 
 everything is either active or potential in the unit 
 of force which is man. 
 
 The difference between a painter and a mu- 
 sician, or between a poet and a novelist, is not 
 a difference of qualities in the entity itself; for 
 each unit contains everything except quantity, and 
 thus has the possibilities of development along 
 any line chosen by its will. The choice may have 
 been made ages ago. It takes a long time, often 
 many lives, to evolve an art or a faculty for one 
 particular kind of work in preference to all 
 others. Concentration is the secret of power, 
 here as elsewhere. 
 
 As to the use of will-power in your present 
 everyday problems, there are two ways of using 
 the will. One may concentrate upon a definite 
 plan, and bring it into effect or not according to 
 the amount of force at one's disposal; or one 
 
 22 
 
THE WAND OF WILL 23 
 
 may will that the best and highest and wisest 
 plan possible shall be demonstrated by the sub- 
 conscious forces in the self and in other selves. 
 The latter is a commanding of all environment 
 for a special purpose, instead of commanding, 
 or attempting to command, a fragment of it. 
 
 In this communion between the outer and in- 
 ner worlds, you in the outer world are apt to 
 think that we in ours know everything. You ex- 
 pect us to prophesy like fortune-tellers, and to 
 keep you informed of what is passing on the other 
 side of the globe. Sometimes we can; generally 
 we cannot. 
 
 After a while I may be able to enter your 
 mind as a Master does, and to know all the an- 
 tecedent thoughts and plans in it; but now I can- 
 not always do so. 
 
 For instance, one night I looked everywhere 
 for — — and could not find him. Perhaps it is 
 necessary for you to think strongly of us, to make 
 the way easiest. 
 
 I am learning all the time. The Teacher is 
 very active in helping me. 
 
 When I am absolutely certain of my hold upon 
 your hand, I shall have much to say about the 
 life out here. 
 
LETTER VII 
 
 A LIGHT BEHIND THE VEIL 
 
 MAKE an opening for me sometimes in the 
 veil of dense matter that shuts you from 
 my eyes. I see you often as a spot of vivid light, 
 and that is probably when your soul is active with 
 feeling or your mind keen with thought. 
 
 I can read your thoughts occasionally, but not 
 always. Often I try to draw near, and cannot 
 find you. You could not always find me, perhaps, 
 should you come out here. 
 
 Sometimes I am all alone: sometimes I am 
 with others. 
 
 Strange, but I seem to myself to have quite a 
 substantial body now, though at first my arms and 
 legs seemed sprawling in all directions. 
 
 As a rule, I do not walk about as formerly, nor 
 do I fly exactly, for I have never had wings; but 
 I manage to get over space with incredible rapid- 
 ity. Sometimes, though, I walk. 
 
 Now, I want you to do me a favour. You know 
 what a difficult job I often had to keep things 
 
 24 
 
A LIGHT BEHIND THE VEIL 2£ 
 
 going, yet I kept them going. Don't you get dis- 
 couraged about the material wherewithal for your 
 work. Work right ahead, as if the supply were 
 there, and it will be there. You can demonstrate 
 it in one way or another. Do not feel weak or 
 uncertain, for when you do you drag me back to 
 earth by force of sympathy. It is as bad as griev- 
 ing for the dead. 
 
LETTER VIII 
 
 THE IRON GRIP OF MATTER 
 
 TO a man dwelling in the "invisible" there 
 comes a sudden memory of earth. 
 
 "Oh !" he says. "The world is going on with- 
 out me. What am I missing?" 
 
 It seems almost an impertinence on the part 
 of the world to go on without him. He becomes 
 agitated. He is sure that he is behind the times, 
 left out, left over. 
 
 He looks about him, and sees only the tran- 
 quil fields of the fourth dimension. Oh, for the 
 iron grip of matter once more! To hold some- 
 thing in taut hands! 
 
 Perhaps the mood passes, but one day it re- 
 turns with redoubled force. He must get out of 
 the tenuous environment into the forcibly re- 
 sistant world of dense matter. But how? 
 
 Ah, he remembers! All action comes from 
 memory. It would be a reckless experiment had 
 he not done it before. 
 
 He closes his eyes, reversing himself in the in- 
 26 
 
THE IRON GRIP OF MATTER 27 
 
 visible. He is drawn to human life, to human 
 beings in the intense vibration of union. There 
 is sympathy here — perhaps the sympathy of past 
 experience with the souls of those whom he now 
 contacts, perhaps only sympathy of mood or im- 
 agination. Be that as it may, he lets go his hold 
 upon freedom and triumphantly loses himself in 
 the lives of human beings. 
 
 After a time he awakes, to look with bewil- 
 dered eyes upon green fields and the round, solid 
 faces of men and women. Sometimes he weeps, 
 and wishes himself back. If he becomes dis- 
 couraged, he may return — only to begin the weary 
 quest of matter all over again. 
 
 If he is strong and stubborn, he remains and 
 grows into a man. He may even persuade him- 
 self that the former life in tenuous substance was 
 only a dream, for in dream he returns to it, and 
 the dream haunts him and spoils his enjoyment of 
 matter. 
 
 After years enough he grows weary of the ma- 
 terial struggle : his energy is exhausted. He sinks 
 back into the arms of the unseen, and men say 
 again with bated breath that he is dead. 
 
 But he is not dead. He has only returned 
 whence he came. 
 
LETTER IX 
 
 WHERE SOULS GO UP AND DOWN 
 
 MY friend, there is nothing to fear in death. 
 It is no harder than a trip to a foreign 
 country — the first trip — to one who has grown 
 oldish and settled in the habits of his own more or 
 less narrow corner of the world. 
 
 When a man comes out here, the strangers 
 whom he meets seem no more strange than the 
 foreign peoples seem to one who first goes among 
 them. He does not always understand them; 
 there, again, his experience is like a sojourn in a 
 foreign country. Then, after a while, he begins 
 to make friendly advances and to smile with the 
 eyes. The question, "Where are you from?" 
 meets with a similar response to that on earth. 
 One is from California, another is from Boston, 
 another is from London. This is when we meet 
 on the highroads of travel; for there are lanes 
 of travel over here, where the souls go up and 
 down as on the earth. Such a road is generally 
 the most direct line between two great centres; 
 
 28 
 
WHERE SOULS GO UP AND DOWN 20, 
 
 but it is never on the line of a railway. There 
 would be too much noise. We can hear sounds 
 made on the earth- There is a certain shock to 
 the etheric ear which carries the vibration of 
 sound to us. 
 
 Sometimes one settles down for a long time 
 in one place. I visited an old home in the State 
 of Maine, where a man on this side of life had 
 been stopping for I do not know how many years ; 
 he told me that the children had grown to be 
 men and women, and that a colt to which he be- 
 came attached when he first came out had grown 
 into a horse and had died of old age. 
 
 There are sluggards and dull people here, as 
 with you. There are also brilliant and magnetic 
 people, whose very presence is rejuvenating. 
 
 It seems almost absurd to say that we wear 
 clothes, the same as you do ; but we do not seem 
 to need so many. I have not seen any trunks; 
 but then I have been here only a short time. 
 
 Heat and cold do not matter much to me now, 
 though I remember at first being rather uncom- 
 fortable by reason of the cold. But that is past. 
 
LETTER X 
 
 A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION 
 
 YOU can do so much for me by lending me 
 your hand occasionally, that I wonder why 
 you shrink from it. 
 
 This philosophy will go on being taught in 
 the world and all over the world. Only a few, 
 perhaps, will reach the deeps of it in this life; 
 but a seed sown to-day may bear fruit long hence. 
 Somewhere I have read that grains of wheat 
 which had been buried with mummies for two or 
 three thousand years had sprouted when placed 
 in good soil in our own day. It is so with a philo- 
 sophic seed. 
 
 It has been said that he is a fool who works 
 for philosophy instead of making philosophy 
 work for him ; but a man cannot give to the world 
 even a little of a true philosophy without reaping 
 sevenfold himself, and you know the Biblical quo- 
 tation which ends, "and in the world to come eter- 
 nal life." To get, one must give. That is the 
 Law. 
 
 30 
 
A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION 3 1 
 
 I can tell you many things about the life out 
 here which may be of use to others when they 
 make the great change. Almost everyone brings 
 memory over with him. The men and women I 
 have met and communed with have had more or 
 less vivid recollection of their earth life — that 
 is, most of them. 
 
 I met one man who refused to speak of the 
 earth, and was always talking about "going on." 
 I reminded him that if he went on far enough 
 he would come back to the place from which he 
 started. 
 
 You have been curious, perhaps, as to what 
 we eat and drink, if anything. We certainly are 
 nourished, and we seem to absorb much water. 
 You also should drink plenty of water. It feeds 
 the astral body. I do not think that a very dry 
 body would ever have enough astral vitality to 
 lend a hand to a soul on this plane of life, as you 
 are doing now. There is much moisture in our 
 bodies over here. Perhaps that is one reason 
 why contact with a so-called spirit sometimes 
 gives warm-blooded persons a sense of cold, and 
 they shiver. 
 
 It is something of an effort on my part also 
 to write like this, but it seems to be worth while. 
 
 I come to the place where I feel that you are. 
 
32 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 I can see you better than most others. Then I 
 reverse; that is, instead of going in, as I used 
 to do, I go out with great force and in your di- 
 rection. I take possession of you by a strong 
 propulsive effort. 
 
 Sometimes the writing has stopped suddenly 
 in the midst of a sentence. That was when I 
 was not properly focussed. You may have no- 
 ticed when reversing and shutting away the out- 
 side world, that a sudden noise, or maybe a wan- 
 dering thought, would bring you right out again. 
 It is so here. 
 
 Now, about this element in which we live. It 
 undoubtedly has a place in space, for it is all 
 around the earth. Yes, every tree visible has 
 its invisible counterpart. When you, before 
 sleep, come out consciously into this world, 1 you 
 see things that exist, or have existed, in the ma- 
 terial world also. You cannot see anything in 
 this world which has not a physical counterpart 
 in the other. There are, of course, thought- 
 pictures, imaginary pictures; but to see imagina- 
 tively is not to see on the astral plane — not by any 
 means. The things you see before going to sleep 
 have real existence, and by changing your rate 
 of vibration you come out into this world — or 
 
 1 This undoubtedly refers to my "hypnagogic" visions. — Ed. 
 
A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION 33 
 
 rather you go back into it, for you have to go in, 
 in order to come out. 
 
 Imagination has great power. If you make 
 a picture in the mind, the vibrations of the body 
 may adjust to it if the will is directed that way, 
 as in thoughts of health or sickness. 
 
 It might be well as an experiment, when you 
 want to come out here, to choose a certain sym- 
 bol and hold it before your eyes. I do not say 
 that it would help to change the vibration, but 
 it might. 
 
 I wonder if you could see me if just before 
 falling asleep you should come out here with 
 that thought and that desire dominant in your 
 mind? 
 
 I am strong to-day, because I have been long 
 with one who is stronger; and if you want to 
 make the experiment of trying to find me this 
 night, I may be able to help you better than at 
 another time. 
 
 There is so much to say, and I can seldom talk 
 with you. If you were differently situated and 
 quite free from other things, I could perhaps 
 come often. I am learning much that I should 
 like to give you. 
 
 For instance, I think I can show you how to 
 
34 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 come out here at will, as the Masters do con- 
 stantly. 
 
 At first I took only your arm to write with, 
 but now I get a better hold of the psychic or- 
 ganisation. I saw that I was not working in the 
 best way, that there was a waste somewhere, so 
 I asked the Teacher for instruction in the mat- 
 ter. By this new method you will not feel so 
 tired afterwards, nor shall I. 
 
 I am going now, and will try to meet you in 
 a few minutes. If the experiment should fail, 
 do not be discouraged; but try again some other 
 time. You will know me all right, if you do 
 see me. 
 
LETTER XI 
 
 THE BOY — LIONEL 
 
 YOU will be interested to know that there 
 are people out here, as on the earth, who 
 devote themselves to the welfare of others. 
 
 There is even a large organisation of souls 
 who call themselves a League. Their special 
 work is to take hold of those who have just come 
 out, helping them to find themselves and to adjust 
 to the new conditions. There are both men and 
 women in this League. They have done good 
 service. They work on a little — I do not want 
 to say higher plane than the Salvation Army, 
 but rather a more intellectual plane. They help 
 both children and adults. 
 
 It is interesting about the children. I have 
 not had time yet to observe all these things for 
 myself; but one of the League workers tells me 
 that it is easier for children to adjust themselves 
 to the changed life than it is for grown persons. 
 Very old people are inclined to sleep a good deal, 
 while children come out with great energy, and 
 
 35 
 
36 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 bring with them the same curiosity that they had 
 in earth life. There are no violent changes. The 
 little ones grow up, it is said, about as gradually 
 and imperceptibly as they would have grown on 
 earth. The tendency is to fulfil the normal 
 rhythm, though there are instances where the soul 
 goes back very soon, with little rest. That would 
 be a soul with great curiosity and strong desires. 
 
 There are horrors out here — far worse than 
 the horrors on earth. The decay from vice and 
 intemperance is much worse here than there. I 
 have seen faces and forms that were really fright- 
 ful, faces that seemed to be half-decayed and fall- 
 ing in pieces. These are the hopeless cases, which 
 even the League of workers I spoke about leave 
 to their fate. It is uncertain what the fate of 
 such people will be; whether they will reincar- 
 nate or not in this cycle, I do not know. 
 
 The children are so charming! One young boy 
 is with me often; he calls me Father, and seems 
 to enjoy my society. He would be, I should think, 
 about thirteen years old, and he has been out here 
 some time. He could not tell me just how long; 
 but I will ask him if he remembers the year, the 
 calendar year, in which he came out. 
 
 It is not true that we cannot keep our thoughts 
 to ourselves if we are careful to do so. We can 
 
THE BOY LIONEL 37 
 
 guard our secrets, if we know how. That is done 
 by suggestion, or laying a spell. It is, though, 
 much easier here than on earth to read the minds 
 of others. 
 
 We seem to communicate with one another 
 in about the same way that you do; but I find, 
 as time goes by, that I converse more and more 
 by powerful and projected thought than by the 
 moving of the lips. At first I always opened my 
 mouth when I had anything to say; it is easier 
 now not to do so, though I sometimes do it still 
 by force of habit. When a man has recently 
 come out he does not understand another unless 
 he really speaks; that is, I suppose, before he has 
 learned that he also can talk without using much 
 breath. 
 
 But I was telling you about the boy. He is all 
 interest in regard to certain things I have told 
 him about the earth, — especially aeroplanes, 
 which were not yet very practicable when he 
 came out. He wants to go back and fly in an 
 aeroplane. I tell him that he can fly here with- 
 out one, but that does not seem to be the same 
 thing to him. He wants to get his fingers on 
 machinery. 
 
 I advise him not to be in any hurry about going 
 back. The curious thing about it is that he can 
 
38 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 remember other and former lives of his on earth. 
 Many out here have no more memory of their 
 former lives, before the last one, than they had 
 while in the body. This is not a place where 
 everyone knows everything — far from it. Most 
 souls are nearly as blind as they were in life. 
 
 The boy was an inventor in a prior incarnation, 
 and he came out this time by an accident, he says. 
 He should stay here a little longer, I think, to 
 get a stronger rhythm for a return. That is only 
 my idea. I am so interested in the boy that I 
 should like to keep him, and perhaps that influ- 
 ences my judgment somewhat. 
 
 You see, we are still human. 
 
 You asked me some questions, did you not? 
 Will you speak them aloud? I can hear. 
 
 Yes, I feel considerably younger than I have 
 felt for a long time, and I am well. At first I 
 felt about as I did in my illness, with times of 
 depression and times of freedom from depres- 
 sion; but now I am all right. My body does not 
 give me much trouble. 
 
 I believe that old people grow younger here 
 until they reach their prime again, and that then 
 they may hold that for a long time. 
 
 You see, I have not become all-wise. I have 
 
THE BOY — LIONEL 39 
 
 been able to pick up a good deal of knowledge 
 which I had forgotten; but about all the details 
 of this life I still have much to learn. 
 
 Your curiosity will help me to study conditions 
 and to make inquiries, which otherwise I might 
 not have made for a long time, if ever. Most 
 people do not seem to learn much out here, ex- 
 cept that naturally they learn the best and easiest 
 way of getting on, as in earth life. 
 
 Yes, there are schools here where any who 
 wish for instruction can receive it — if they are 
 fit. But there are only a few great teachers. The 
 average college professor is not a being of su- 
 preme wisdom, whether here or there. 
 
LETTER XII 
 
 THE PATTERN WORLD 
 
 THERE is something I want to qualify in 
 what I said the other day, that there is 
 nothing out here which has not existed on the 
 earth. Since then I have learned that that state- 
 ment is not exactly true. There are strata here. 
 This I have learned xecently. I still believe that 
 in the lowest stratum next the earth all or nearly 
 all that exists has existed on earth in dense mat- 
 ter. Go a little farther up, a little farther away 
 — how far I cannot say by actual measurement; 
 but the other night in exploring I got into the 
 world of patterns, the paradigms- — if that is the 
 word — of things which are to be on earth. I saw 
 forms of things which, so far as I know, have 
 not existed on your planet — inventions, for ex- 
 ample. I saw wings that man could adjust to 
 himself. I saw also new forms of flying-ma- 
 chines. I saw model cities, and towers with 
 strange wing-like projections on them, of which 
 
 40 
 
THE PATTERN WORLD 4 1 
 
 I could not imagine the use. The progress of 
 mechanical invention is evidently only begun. 
 
 Another time I will go on, farther up in that 
 world of pattern forms, and see if I can learn 
 what lies beyond it. 
 
 Bear this in mind: I merely tell you stories, 
 as an earthly traveller would tell, of the things 
 I see. Sometimes my interpretation of them may 
 be wrong. 
 
 When I was in the place which we will call 
 the pattern world, I saw almost nobody there — 
 only an occasional lone voyager like myself. I 
 naturally infer from this that but few of those 
 who leave the earth go up there at all. I think 
 from what I have seen, and from conversations 
 I have had with men and women souls, that most 
 of them do not get very far from the earth, even 
 out here. 
 
 It is strange, but many persons seem to be in 
 the regular orthodox heaven, singing in white 
 robes, with crowns on their heads and with harps 
 in their hands. There is a region which outsiders 
 call "the heaven country." 
 
 There is also, they tell me, a fiery hell, with 
 at least the smell of brimstone ; but so far I have 
 not been there. Some day when I feel strong I 
 
42 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 will look in, and if it is not too depressing I will 
 go farther — if they will let me. 
 
 For the present I am looking about here and 
 there, and I have not studied carefully any place 
 as yet. 
 
 I took the boy, whose name by the way is 
 Lionel, out with me yesterday. Perhaps we ought 
 to say last night, for your day is our night when 
 we are on your side of this great hollow sphere. 
 You and the solid earth are in the centre of our 
 sphere. 
 
 I took the boy out with me for what you would 
 call a walk. 
 
 First we went to the old quarter of Paris, 
 where I used to live in a former life; but Lionel 
 could not see anything, and when I pointed out 
 certain buildings to him he asked me quite sin- 
 cerely if I were dreaming. I must have some 
 faculty which is not generally developed among 
 my fellow citizens in the astral country. So when 
 the boy found that Paris was only a figment of 
 my imagination — he used to live in Boston — I 
 took him to see heaven. He remarked: 
 
 "Why, this must be the place my grandmother 
 used to tell me about. But where is God?" 
 
 That I could not tell him ; but, on looking again, 
 we saw that nearly everybody was gazing in one 
 
THE PATTERN WORLD 43 
 
 direction. We also gazed with the others, and 
 saw a great light, like a sun, only it was softer 
 and less dazzling than the material sun. 
 
 "That," I said to the boy, "is what they see 
 who see God." 
 
 And now I have something strange to tell you ; 
 for, as we gazed at that light, slowly there took 
 form between us and it the figure which we are 
 accustomed to see represented as that of the 
 Christ. He smiled at the people and stretched 
 out His hands to them. 
 
 Then the scene changed, and He had on His 
 left arm a lamb; and then again He stood as if 
 transfigured upon a mountain; then He spoke 
 and taught them. We could hear His voice. And 
 then He vanished from our sight. 
 
LETTER XIII 
 
 FORMS REAL AND UNREAL 
 
 WHEN I first came out here I was so inter- 
 ested in what I saw that I did not ques- 
 tion much as to the manner of the seeing. But 
 lately — especially since writing the last letter or 
 two — I have begun to notice a difference between 
 objects that at a superficial glance seem to be of 
 much the same substance. For example, I 
 can sometimes see a difference between those 
 things which have existed on earth unquestion- 
 ably, such as the forms of men and women, 
 and other things which, while visualised and seem- 
 ingly palpable, may be, and probably are, but 
 thought-creations. 
 
 This idea came to me while looking on at the 
 dramas of the heaven country, and it was forced 
 upon me with greater power while making other 
 and recent explorations in that which I have called 
 the pattern world. 
 
 Later I may be able to distinguish at a glance 
 between these two classes of seeming objects. For 
 
 44 
 
FORMS REAL AND UNREAL 45 
 
 example, if I encounter here a being, or what 
 seems a being, and if I am told that it is some 
 famous character in fiction, such as Jean Valjean 
 in Hugo's Les Miserables, I shall have reason to 
 believe that I have seen a thought-form of suf- 
 ficient vitality to stand alone, as a quasi-entity 
 in this world of tenuous matter. So far I have 
 not encountered any such characters. 
 
 Of course, unless I were able to hold converse 
 with a being, a form, or saw others do so, I could 
 not positively state that it had an essential ex- 
 istence. Hereafter I shall often put things to 
 the test in this way. If I can talk to a seeming 
 entity, and if it can answer me, I am justified in 
 considering it as a reality. A character in fiction, 
 or any other mental creation, however vivid as a 
 picture, would have no soul, no unit of force, no 
 real self. Whatever comes to me merely as a 
 picture I shall try to submit to this test. 
 
 If I see a peculiar form of tree or animal, and 
 can touch and feel it, — for the senses here are 
 quite as acute as those of earth, — I know that it 
 exists in the subtle matter of this- plane. 
 
 I believe that all the beings whom I have seen 
 here are real ; but if I can find one that is not, — 
 a being which I cannot feel when I touch it and 
 which cannot respond to my questions,— -I shall 
 
46 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 have a datum for my hypothesis that thought- 
 forms of beings, as well as things, may have suf- 
 ficient cohesion to seem real. 
 
 It is undoubtedly true that there is no spirit 
 without substance, no substance without spirit, 
 latent or expressed; but a painting of a man may 
 seem at a distance to be a man. 
 
 Can there exist deliberate thought-creations 
 here, deliberate and purposive creations? I be- 
 lieve so. Such a thought-form would probably 
 have to be very intense in order to persist. 
 
 It seems to me that I had better settle this 
 question to my own satisfaction before talking 
 any more about it. 
 
LETTER XIV 
 
 A FOLIO OF PARACELSUS 
 
 THE other day I asked my Teacher to show 
 me the archives in which those who had 
 lived out here had recorded their observations, 
 if such existed. He said: 
 
 "You were a great reader of books when you 
 were on the earth. Come." 
 
 We entered a vast building like a library, and 
 I caught my breath in wonder. It was not the 
 architecture of the building which struck me, but 
 the quantities of books and records. There must 
 have been millions of them. 
 
 I asked the Teacher if all the books were here. 
 He smiled and said: 
 
 "Are there not enough? You can make your 
 choice." 
 
 I asked if the volumes were arranged by sub- 
 jects. 
 
 "There is an arrangement," he answered. 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 I said that I should like to see the books in 
 
 47 
 
48 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 which were written the accounts of explorations 
 which other men had made in this (to me) still 
 slightly known country. 
 
 He smiled again, and took from a shelf a 
 thick volume. It was printed in large black type. 1 
 
 "Who wrote this book?" I asked. 
 
 "There is a signature," he replied. 
 
 I looked at the end and saw the signature: it 
 was that used by Paracelsus. 
 
 "When did he write this?" 
 
 "Soon after he came out. It was written be- 
 tween his Paracelsus life and his next one on 
 earth." 
 
 The book which I had opened was a treatise on 
 spirits, human, angelic, and elemental. It began 
 with the definition of a human spirit as a spirit 
 which had had the experience of life in human 
 form; and it defined an elemental spirit as a 
 spirit of more or less developed self-consciousness 
 which had not yet had that experience. 
 
 Then the author defined an angel as a spirit 
 of a high order which had not had, and probably 
 would not have in future, such experience in mat- 
 ter. 
 
 *I hope no one will expect me to answer the question why- 
 should such a book appear to be printed in large black type. 
 I have no more idea than has the reader. — Ed. 
 
A FOLIO OF PARACELSUS 49 
 
 He went on to state that angelic spirits were 
 divided into two sharply defined groups, the celes- 
 tial and the infernal, the former being those an- 
 gels who worked towards harmony with the laws 
 of God, the latter being those angels who worked 
 against that harmony. But he said that both 
 these orders of angels were necessary, each to the 
 other's existence; that if all were good the uni- 
 verse would cease to be; that good itself would 
 cease to be through the failure of its opposite — 
 evil. 
 
 He said that in the archives of the angelic re- 
 gions there were cases on record where a good 
 angel had become bad or a bad angel had become 
 good, but that such cases were of rare occurrence. 
 
 He then went on to warn his fellow souls who 
 should be sojourning in that realm in which he 
 then wrote, and in which I knew myself also to 
 be, against holding communion with evil spirits. 
 He declared that in the subtler forms of life there 
 were more temptations than in the earth life ; that 
 he himself had often been assailed by malignant 
 angels who had urged him to join forces with 
 them, and that their arguments were sometimes 
 extremely plausible. 
 
 He said that while living on earth he had often 
 had conversations with spirits both good and bad; 
 
JO LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 but that while on earth he had never, so far as 
 he knew, held converse with an angel of a malig- 
 nant nature. 
 
 He advised his readers that there was one 
 way to determine whether a being of the subtler 
 world was an angel or merely a human or an 
 elemental spirit, and that was by the greater bril- 
 liancy of the light which surrounded an angel. 
 He said that both good and bad angels were ex- 
 tremely brilliant; but that there was a difference 
 between them, perceptible at the first glance at 
 their faces; that the eyes of the celestial angels 
 were aflame with love and intellect, while the eyes 
 of the infernal angels were very unpleasant to en- 
 counter. 
 
 He said that it would be possible for an in- 
 fernal angel to disguise himself to a mortal, so 
 that he might be mistaken for an angel of light; 
 but that it was practically impossible for an angel 
 to disguise his real nature from those souls who 
 were living in their subtle bodies. 
 
 I will perhaps say more on this subject another 
 night. I must rest now. 
 
LETTER XV 
 
 A ROMAN TOGA 
 
 ONE thing which makes this country so in- 
 teresting to me is its lack of convention- 
 ality. No two persons are dressed in the same 
 way — or no, I do not mean that exactly, but many 
 are so eccentrically dressed that their appearance 
 gives variety to the whole. 
 
 My own clothes are, as a rule, similar to those 
 I wore on earth, though I have as an experiment, 
 when dwelling in thought on one of my long-past 
 lives, put on the garments of the period. 
 
 It is easy to get the clothes one wants here. 
 I do not know how I became possessed of the 
 garments which I wore on coming out; but when 
 I began to take notice of such things, I found my- 
 self dressed about as usual. I am not yet sure 
 whether I brought my clothes with me. 
 
 There are many people here in costumes of 
 the ancient days. I do not infer from this fact 
 that they have been here all those ages. I think 
 they wear such clothes because they like them. 
 
 5i 
 
[52 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 As a rule, most persons stay near the place 
 where they lived on earth; but I have been a wan- 
 derer from the first. I go rapidly from one coun- 
 try to another. One night (or day with you) I 
 may take my rest in America; the next night I 
 may rest in Paris. I have spent hours of repose 
 on the divan in your sitting-room, and you did not 
 know that I was there. I doubt, though, if I could 
 stay for hours in your house when I was myself 
 awake without your sensing my presence. 
 
 Do not think, however, from what I have just 
 said, that it is necessary for me to rest on the 
 solid matter of your world. Not at all. We 
 can rest on the tenuous substance of our own 
 world. 
 
 One day, when I had been here only a short 
 time, I saw a woman dressed in a Greek costume, 
 and asked her where she got her clothes. She 
 replied that she had made them. I asked her 
 how, and she said: 
 
 "Why, first I made a pattern in my mind, and 
 then the thing became a garment." 
 
 "Did you take every stitch?" 
 
 "Not as I should have done on earth." 
 
 I looked closer and saw that the whole gar- 
 ment seemed to be in one piece, and that it was 
 caught on the shoulders by jewelled pins. I asked 
 
A ROMAN TOGA 53 
 
 where she got the jewelled pins, and she said 
 that a friend had given them to her. Then I 
 asked where the friend had got them. She told 
 me that she did not know, but that she would 
 ask him. Soon after that she left me, and I have 
 not seen her since, so the question is still un- 
 answered. 
 
 I began to experiment to see if I also could 
 make things-. It was then that I con'ceived the 
 idea of wearing a Roman toga, but for the life 
 of me I could not remember what a Roman toga 
 looked like. 
 
 When next I met the Teacher I told him of 
 my wish to wear a toga of my own making, and 
 he carefully showed me how to create garments 
 such as I desired: To fix the pattern and shape 
 clearly in my mind, to visualise it, and then by 
 power to desire to draw the subtle matter of 
 the thought-world round the pattern, so as ac- 
 tually to form the garment. 
 
 "Then," I said, "the matter of the thought- 
 world, as you call it, is not the same kind of mat- 
 ter as that of my body, for instance?" 
 
 "In the last analysis," he answered, "there is 
 only one kind of matter in both worlds ; but there 
 is a great difference in vibration and tenuity." 
 
 Now the thought-substance of which our gar- 
 
54 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ments are formed seems to be an extremely tenu- 
 ous form of matter, while our bodies seem to be 
 pretty solid. We do not feel at all like trans- 
 parent angels sitting on damp clouds. Were it 
 not for the quickness with which I get over space, 
 I should think sometimes that my body was as 
 solid as ever. 
 
 I can often see you, and to me you seem tenu- 
 ous. It is all, I suppose, the old question of ad- 
 justing to environment. At first I could not do 
 it, and had some trouble in learning to adjust the 
 amount of energy necessary for each particular 
 action. So little energy is required here to move 
 myself about that at first when I started to go a 
 short distance — say, a few yards — I would find 
 myself a mile away. But I am now pretty well 
 adjusted. 
 
 I must be storing up energy here for a good 
 hard life when I return to the earth again. The 
 hardest work I do now is to come and write 
 through your hand, but you offer less and less re- 
 sistance as time goes on. In the beginning it took 
 all my strength; now it takes only a comparatively 
 small effort. Yet I could not do it long at a time 
 without using your own vitality, and that I will 
 not do. 
 
 You may have noticed that you are no longer 
 
A ROMAN TOGA 55 
 
 fatigued after the writing, though you used to 
 be at first. 
 
 But I was speaking of the lack of convention- 
 ality out here. Souls hail each other when they 
 want to, without much ceremony. I have seen a 
 few old women who were afraid to talk to a 
 stranger, but probably they had not been here 
 long and the earth habits still clung to them. 
 
 Do not think, however, that society here is too 
 free and easy. It is not that, but men and women 
 do not seem to be so afraid of each other as they 
 were on earth. 
 
LETTER XVI 
 
 A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 
 
 1WANT to say a word to those who are about 
 to die. I want to beg them to forget their 
 bodies as soon as possible after the change which 
 they call death. 
 
 Oh, the terrible curiosity to go back and look 
 upon that thing which we once believed to be our- 
 selves! The thought comes to us now and then 
 so powerfully that it acts in a way against our 
 will and draws us back to it. With some it is a 
 morbid obsession, and many cannot get free from 
 it while there remains a shred of flesh on the 
 bones which they once leaned upon. 
 
 Tell them to forget it altogether, to force the 
 thought away, to go out into the other life free. 
 Looking back upon the past is sometimes good, 
 but not upon this relic of the past. 
 
 It is so easy to look into the coffin, because the 
 body which we wear now is itself a light in a dark 
 place, and it can penetrate grosser matter. I have 
 been back myself a few times, but am determined 
 
 56 
 
A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 57 
 
 to go back no more. Yet some day the thought 
 may come to me again with compelling insistence 
 to see how it is getting on. 
 
 I do not want to shock or pain you — only to 
 warn you. It is sad to see the sight which inevita- 
 bly meets one in the grave. That may be the 
 reason why many souls who have not been here 
 long are so melancholy. They return again and 
 again to the place which they should not visit. 
 
 You know that out here if we think intently of 
 a place we are apt to find ourselves there. The 
 body which we use is so light that it can follow 
 thought almost without effort. Tell them not to 
 do it. 
 
 One day while walking down an avenue of trees 
 — for we have trees here — I met a tall woman in 
 a long black garment. She was weeping — for we 
 have tears here also. I asked her why she wept, 
 and she turned to me eyes of unutterable sadness. 
 
 "I have been back to it," she said. 
 
 My heart ached for her, because I knew how 
 she felt. The shock of the first visit is repeated 
 each time, as the thing one sees is less and less 
 what we like to think of ourselves as being. 
 
 Often I remember that tall woman in black, 
 walking down the avenue of trees and weeping. 
 It is partly curiosity that draws one back, partly 
 
58 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 magnetic attraction ; but it can do no good. It is 
 better to forget it. 
 
 I have sometimes longed, from sheer scientific 
 interest, to ask my boy Lionel if he had been back 
 to his body; but I have not asked him for fear of 
 putting the idea into his mind. He has such a 
 restless curiosity. Perhaps those who go out as 
 children have less of that morbid instinct than we 
 have. 
 
 If we could only remember in life that the form 
 which we call ourselves is not our real immortal 
 self at all, we would not give it such an exag- 
 gerated importance, though we would neverthe- 
 less take needful care of it. 
 
 As a rule, those who say that they have been 
 long here do not seem old. I asked the Teacher 
 why, and he said that after a time an old person 
 forgets that he is old, that the tendency is to grow 
 young in thought and therefore young in appear- 
 ance, that the body tends to take the form which 
 we hold of it in our minds, that the law of rhythm 
 works here as elsewhere. 
 
 Children grow up out here, and they may even 
 go on to a sort of old age if that is the expecta- 
 tion of the mind; but the tendency is to keep the 
 prime, to go forward or back towards the best 
 
A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 59 
 
 period, and then to hold that until the irresistible 
 attraction of the earth asserts itself again. 
 
 Most of the men and women here do not know 
 that they have lived many times in flesh. They 
 remember their latest life more or less vividly, but 
 all before that seems like a dream. One should 
 always keep the memory of the past as clear as 
 possible. It helps one to construct the future. 
 
 Those people who think of their departed 
 friends as being all-wise, how disappointed they 
 would be if they could know that the life on this 
 side is only an extension of the life on earth I If 
 the thoughts and desires there have been only for 
 material pleasures, the thoughts and desires here 
 are likely to be the same. I have met veritable 
 saints since coming out; but they have been men 
 and women who held in earth life the saintly ideal, 
 and who now are free to live it. 
 
 Life can oe so free here! There is none of 
 that machinery of living which makes people on 
 earth such slaves. In our world a man is held 
 only by his thoughts. If they are free, he is free. 
 
 Few, though, are of my philosophic spirit. 
 There are more saints here than philosophers, as 
 the highest ideal of most persons, when intensely 
 active, has been towards the religious rather than 
 the philosophic life. 
 
60 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 I think the happiest people I have met on this 
 side have been the painters. Our matter is so 
 light and subtle, and so easily handled, that it 
 falls readily into the forms of the imagination. 
 There are beautiful pictures here. Some of our 
 artists try to impress their pictures upon the men- 
 tal eyes of the artists of earth, and they often suc- 
 ceed in doing so. 
 
 There is joy in the heart of one of our real ar- 
 tists when a fellow craftsman on your side catches 
 an idea from him and puts it into execution. He 
 may not always be able to see clearly how well 
 the second man works out the idea, for it requires 
 a special gift or a special training to see from one 
 form of matter into the other; but the inspiring 
 spirit catches the thought in the inspired one's 
 mind, and knows that a conception of his own is 
 being executed upon the earth. 
 
 With poets it is the same. There are lovely 
 lyrics composed out here and impressed upon the 
 receptive minds of earthly poets. A poet told 
 me that it was easier to do that with a short lyric 
 than with an epic or a drama, where a long-con- 
 tinued effort was necessary. 
 
 It is much the same with musicians. When- 
 ever you go to a concert where beautiful music 
 is being played, there is probably all round you a 
 
A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 6 1 
 
 crowd of music-loving spirits, drinking in the har- 
 monies. Music on earth is much enjoyed on this 
 side. It can be heard. But no sensitive spirit 
 likes to go near a place where bad strumming is 
 going on. We prefer the music of stringed in- 
 struments. Of all earthly things, sound reaches 
 most directly into this plane of life. Tell that to 
 the musicians. 
 
 If they could only hear our music I I did 
 not understand music on earth, but now my ears 
 are becoming adjusted. It seems sometimes as 
 if you must hear our music over there, as we hear 
 yours. 
 
 You may have wondered how I spend my time 
 and where I go. There is a lovely spot in the 
 country which I never tire of visiting. It is on 
 the side of a mountain, not far from my own 
 city. There is a little road winding round a hill, 
 and just above the road is a hut, a roofed enclo- 
 sure with the lower side open. Sometimes I stay 
 there for hours and listen to the rippling of the 
 brook which runs beside the road. The tall slen- 
 der trees have become like brothers to me. At 
 first I cannot see the material trees very clearly; 
 but I go into the little hut which is made of fresh 
 clean boards with a sweet smell, and I lie down 
 
62 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 cm the shelf or bunk along the wall ; then I close 
 my eyes and by an effort — or no, it is not what I 
 would call an effort, but by a sort of drifting — I 
 can see the beautiful place. But you must know 
 that this is in the night time there, and I see it by 
 the light of myself. That is why we travel in the 
 dark part of the twenty-four hours, for in the 
 bright sunlight we cannot see at all. Our light is 
 put out by the cruder light of the sun. 
 
 One night I took the boy Lionel there with me, 
 leaving him in the hut while I went a little dis- 
 tance away. Looking back, I saw the whole hut 
 illuminated by a lovely radiance — the radiance of 
 Lionel himself. The little building, which has a 
 peaked roof, looked like a pearl lighted from 
 within. It was a beautiful experience. 
 
 I then went to Lionel and told him to go in his 
 turn a little distance away, while I took his place 
 in the hut. I was curious to know if he would see 
 the same phenomenon when I lay there, if I could 
 shed such a light through dense matter — the 
 boards of the building. When I called him to 
 me afterwards and asked if he had seen anything 
 strange, he said: 
 
 "What a wonderful man you are, Father! 
 How did you make that hut seem to be on fire?" 
 
A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 63 
 
 Then I knew that he had seen the same thing 
 I had seen. 
 
 But I am tired now and can write no more. 
 Good night, and may you have pleasant dreams. 
 
LETTER XVII 
 
 THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 
 
 1AM often called upon here to decide mat- 
 ters for others. Many people call me simply 
 "the Judge"; but we bear, as a rule, the name 
 that we last bore on earth. 
 
 Men and women come to me to settle all sorts 
 of questions for them, questions of ethics, ques- 
 tions of expediency, even quarrels. Did you sup- 
 pose that no one quarrelled here? Many do. 
 There are even long-standing feuds among them. 
 
 The holders of different opinions on religion 
 are often hot in their arguments. Coming here 
 with the same beliefs they had on earth, and being 
 able to visualise their ideals and actually to ex- 
 perience the things they are expecting, two men 
 who hold opposite creeds forcibly are each more 
 intolerant than ever before. Each is certain that 
 he is right and that the other is wrong. This 
 stubbornness of belief is strongest with those who 
 have been here only a short time. After a while 
 they fall into a larger tolerance, living their own 
 
 64 
 
THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 65 
 
 lives more and more, and enjoying the world of 
 proofs and realisations which each soul builds for 
 itself. 
 
 But I want to give you an illustration of the 
 sort of questions on which I am asked to pass 
 judgment. 
 
 There are two women here who in life were 
 both married to one man, though not at the same 
 time. The first woman died, then the man mar- 
 ried again, and soon — not more than a year or 
 two after — the man and his second wife both came 
 out. The first wife considers herself the man's 
 only wife, and she follows him about everywhere. 
 She says that he promised to meet her in heaven. 
 He is more inclined to the second wife, though 
 he still feels affection for Wife No. 1. He is 
 rather impatient at what he calls her unreason- 
 ableness. He told me one day that he would 
 gladly give them both up, if he could be left in 
 peace to carry out certain studies in which he is 
 interested. These were among the people I met 
 soon after I began to be strong myself here — it 
 was not so very long ago ; and the man has sought 
 my society so much that the women, in order to 
 be near him, have come along too. 
 
 One day they all three came to me and pro- 
 
66 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 pounded their question — or, rather, Wife No. I 
 propounded it. She said: 
 
 "This man is my husband. Should not, there- 
 fore, this other woman go far away and leave 
 him altogether to me?" 
 
 I asked Wife No. 2 what she had to say. Her 
 answer was that she would be all alone here but 
 for her husband, and that as she had had him last, 
 he now belonged more to her than to the other. 
 
 In a flash the memory came to me of those 
 Sadducees who propounded a similar question to 
 Christ, and I quoted His answer as nearly as I 
 could remember it: that "when they shall rise 
 from the dead, they neither marry, nor are given 
 in marriage; but are as the angels which are in 
 heaven." 
 
 My answer was as much a staggerer for them 
 as their question had been for me, and they went 
 away to think about it. 
 
 When they were gone I began myself to ponder 
 the question. I had already observed that, 
 whether or not all here are as the angels in 
 heaven, there does seem to be a good deal of 
 mating and rejoining of former mates. The sex 
 distinction is as real here as on the earth, though, 
 of course, its expression is not exactly the same. 
 I asked myself a good many questions which per- 
 
THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 67 
 
 haps would never have occurred to me but for 
 the troubles of this interesting triad, and I 
 thought of the man I had somewhere read about, 
 who said that he never knew his own opinion of 
 anything until he tried to express it to somebody. 
 
 After a while the three came to me again and 
 said that they had been talking things over, per- 
 haps after the manner of angels in heaven; for 
 Wife No. 1 told me that she had decided to "let" 
 her husband spend a part of his time with the 
 other woman, if he wanted to. 
 
 Now, the man had a sweetheart, a girl sweet- 
 heart, before he had either of his wives. The girl 
 is out here somewhere, and the man often has 
 a strong desire to try to find her. What oppor- 
 tunity he will now have to do so, I cannot say. 
 The situation is rather depressing for the poor 
 fellow. It is bad enough to have one person who 
 insists on every minute of your society, without 
 having two. And I think his case is not unusual. 
 Perhaps the only way in which he can get free 
 from his two insistent companions is by going 
 back to the earth. 
 
 There is a way, however, by which he could 
 secure solitude; but he does not know of it. A 
 man who knows how can isolate himself here 
 as well as he could on earth; he can build round 
 
68 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 himself a wall which only the eyes of a great in- 
 itiate can pierce. I have not told this secret to 
 my friend; but perhaps I shall some day, if it 
 seems necessary for his development that he have 
 a little solitude. At present it seems to me that 
 he will learn more from adjusting to this double 
 claim and trying to find the truth that lies in it. 
 Perhaps he may learn that really, essentially, fun- 
 damentally, he does not "belong" to either of 
 these women. The souls out here seem to belong 
 to themselves, and after the first few years they 
 get to love liberty so much that they are ready 
 to yield a little of their claim upon others. 
 
 This is a great place in which to grow, if one 
 really wants to grow; though few persons take 
 advantage of its possibilities. Most are content 
 to assimilate the experiences they had on earth. 
 It would be depressing to one who did not realise 
 that will is free, to see how souls let slip their op- 
 portunities here, even as they did on the moon- 
 guarded planet. 
 
 There are teachers here who stand ready to 
 help anyone who wishes their help in making real 
 and deep studies in the mysteries of life — the life 
 here, the life there, and in the remote past. 
 
 If a man understands that his recent sojourn 
 on earth was merely the latest of a long series 
 
THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 69 
 
 of lives, and if he concentrates his mind towards 
 recovering the memories of the distant past, he 
 can recover them. Some persons may think that 
 the mere dropping of the veil of matter should 
 free the soul from all obscuration; but, as on 
 earth so out here, "things are not thus and so 
 because they ought to be, but because they are." 
 We draw to ourselves the experiences which 
 we are ready for and which we demand, and most 
 souls do not demand enough here, any more than 
 they did in life. Tell them to demand more, and 
 the demand will be answered. 
 
LETTER XVIII 
 
 INDIVIDUAL HELLS 
 
 SOME time ago I told you of my intention 
 to visit hell ; but when I began investigations 
 on that line there proved to be many hells. 
 
 Each man who is not content with the ortho- 
 dox hell of fire and brimstone builds one out of 
 mind-stuff suited to his imaginative need. 
 
 I believe that men place themselves in hell, 
 that no God puts them there. I began looking 
 for a hell of fire and brimstone, and found it. 
 Dante must have seen the same things I saw. 
 
 But there are other and individual hells 
 
 (The writing suddenly stopped, for no appar- 
 ent reason, and was not continued that night.) 
 
 70 
 
LETTER XIX 
 
 A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 
 
 1HAVE met a very interesting man since last 
 I wrote to you. He is a lover who for ten 
 years waited here for his love to come to him. 
 
 They said on earth that he was dead, and they 
 urged her to love another; but she could not for- 
 get him, for every night he met her soul in 
 dreams, every night she came out to him here, 
 and sometimes she could recall on waking all that 
 he had said to her in sleep. She had told him 
 that she would not delay long in the sunshine 
 world, but would come out to him in the self- 
 lighted world. 
 
 Only a little while ago she came. He had been 
 long getting ready for her coming, and had built 
 in the substance of this world the little home he 
 had planned to build for her in the outer world. 
 
 He told me how one night when she came to 
 him in dream, she said that she would rejoin him 
 on the morrow, never to leave him again. He 
 was startled, and would almost have stayed her; 
 
 7i 
 
72 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 because he had died a sudden and painful death, 
 and he dreaded pain for her. Always he had 
 watched over her, warning her of danger; but 
 this time he felt, after the first shock of the mes- 
 sage was over, that she was really coming. And 
 he was very happy. 
 
 He had found no other love out here ; for when 
 one leaves the earth full of a great affection, and 
 when the earthly loved one does not forget, the 
 tie can hold for many years unweakened. You 
 on the earth have forgotten so much of what you 
 learned here that you do not realise how your 
 thought of us can make us happy, do not realise 
 how your forgetfulness of us can throw us back 
 entirely upon ourselves. 
 
 Often those who go farthest here, who really 
 grow in spirituality, are those whose loves have 
 forgotten them on earth; but it is sad to be for- 
 gotten, nevertheless. 
 
 It is a bitter power you make possible to us 
 when you thus throw us back upon ourselves ; and 
 not all souls are strong enough or aspiring enough 
 to make use of the lonely impetus that might help 
 them to scale the ladder of spiritual knowledge. 
 
 But to return to my lovers. All that day he 
 remained near her. He would not rest; for, as 
 I have told you, we generally rest a little when 
 
A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 73 
 
 the sun shines on the earth. All that day he re- 
 mained near her. He could not see her body, 
 for the rays of sunlight were too strong for him. 
 But, after hours of waiting, suddenly he felt a 
 hand in his, and though she was invisible to him, 
 yet he knew that she was here. And he spoke to 
 her, using such words as he would have used on 
 earth. She did not seem to understand. He spoke 
 again, and still she did not answer; but he knew 
 from the pressure of her hand that she realised 
 his presence. So hand in hand they stood there 
 in the darkness of the sunlight, the man able to 
 speak because of his long experience in this world 
 of subtle sounds, the woman speechless and be- 
 wildered, but still clinging to his hand. 
 
 When the sunshine went away he was able to 
 see her face, and her eyes were wide and fright- 
 ened; but still she seemed held to the room in 
 which lay the body which had been she. It was 
 summer, and the windows were open. He sought 
 to draw her away into the perfumed night which 
 to them was day; but she held his hand and would 
 not let him go. 
 
 At last he drew her away a short distance and 
 spoke to her again. Now she heard and an- 
 swered him. 
 
 "Beloved," she said, "which is I? For I see 
 
74 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 myself — I feel myself — back there also. I seem 
 to be in two places. Which I is really I ?" 
 
 He comforted her with loving words. He was 
 still afraid to caress her, for the touch of souls 
 is very keen, and he feared lest she should go 
 back into the form which seemed to be so near 
 them, and thus be lost to him again. But though 
 she had often come to him in dreams, it had not 
 been so vividly as this time, and he felt that she 
 had really passed through the great change. 
 
 She still clung to his hand, yet seemed afraid 
 to go out with him — out and away from it. He 
 stayed there with her all that night and all the 
 next day, when the darkening sun came again, and 
 again he could not see her. 
 
 Once the well-meaning friends of his beloved 
 disturbed her body, doing those sacred offices 
 which seem so necessary to the living, but which 
 may sorely disturb the dead. 
 
 He stayed with her the second night and all 
 the second day. He could hear the sobs of her 
 grieving parents, though they could not see either 
 him or their daughter; but on the second night 
 the little dog of his love came into the room where 
 it lay, the room in which their two souls still 
 stood, and the little dog saw them and whined 
 
A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 75 
 
 piteously. The man could hear it, and she also 
 could hear it 
 
 And now she could hear him more plainly when 
 he spoke to her. 
 
 "Where will they take it?" she asked him. 
 
 He recalled the time when he had been held 
 spellbound near his own lifeless form, over which 
 his loved one had shed bitter tears. And he asked 
 her if it would not be better to come away al- 
 together; but she could not, or thought she could 
 not. 
 
 On the third day he knew from the agitation 
 of his love that they were placing her body in 
 the coffin. After a while he felt, though he could 
 not see, that many other persons were in the room, 
 and he heard mournful music. Music can reach 
 from one world to another, can be heard far more 
 plainly than human voices, which generally can- 
 not be heard at all except by the trained listener. 
 
 By and by his love was sorely agitated, and 
 he also, through sympathy with her ; and they felt 
 themselves going slowly — oh, so slowly! — along. 
 And he said to her: 
 
 "Do not be grieved. They are taking it to 
 the burial; but you are safe with me." He knew 
 that she was much troubled. 
 
 It is not for nothing that over the house of 
 
76 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 death there always hangs a strange hush, not to 
 be explained by the mere losing of the loved one. 
 Those who remain behind feel, though they can- 
 not see, the soul of the one who has gone out. 
 Their souls are full of sympathy for him in his 
 bewilderment. 
 
 The change need not be painful if one would 
 only remember that it has been passed through 
 before ; but one so easily forgets. We sometimes 
 call the earth the Valley of Forgetfulness. 
 
 During the days and weeks that followed this 
 lover remained with his loved one, ever trying to 
 draw her away from the earth and from it, which 
 had for her, as for so many, a fearsome fascina- 
 tion. 
 
 It is said that the souls of those who have lived 
 long on earth more easily detach themselves; 
 but this woman was still young, only about thirty, 
 and even with the help of her lover it was a little 
 time before she could get free. 
 
 But one day (or night, as you would say) he 
 showed her the home which he had built for her, 
 and it was literally a mansion in the sky. She 
 entered with him, and it became their home. 
 
 Sometimes he leaves her for a little while, or 
 she leaves him; for the joy of being together is 
 heightened here, as on the earth, by an occasional 
 
A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 77 
 
 separation; but not until she was content and ac- 
 customed to the new life did he leave her at all. 
 
 During the first days the habit of earthly 
 hunger often held her, and he tried to appease it 
 by giving her the softer substance which we know 
 here. Gradually she became weaned altogether 
 from the earth and the habits of the earth, only 
 going back occasionally in a dream to her father 
 and mother. 
 
 Do not disregard your dreams about the dead. 
 They always mean something. They do not al- 
 ways mean what the dream would seem to sig- 
 nify; for the door between the two worlds is 
 very narrow, and thoughts are often shaken out 
 of place in passing through. But dreams about 
 the dead mean something. We can reach you in 
 that way. 
 
 I came to you in a dream the other night, stand- 
 ing behind and outside the gate of a walled gar- 
 den in which you were enclosed. I smiled and 
 beckoned you to come out to me; but I did not 
 wish you to come out to stay. I only meant that 
 you should come out in spirit; for if you come 
 out occasionally it is easier for me to go into your 
 world. 
 
 Good night. 
 
LETTER XX 
 
 THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 
 
 THERE seems to be no way in which I can 
 better teach you about this life, so strange 
 to you, than by telling my experiences and conver- 
 sations with men and women here. 
 
 I said one night not long ago that I had met 
 more saints than philosophers, and I want to tell 
 you now about a man who seems to be a genuine 
 saint. Yes, there are little saints and great saints, 
 as there are little and great sinners. 
 
 One day I was walking on a mountain top. I 
 say "walking," for it seemed about the same, 
 though it takes but little energy to walk here. 
 
 On the mountain top I saw a man standing 
 alone. He was looking out and far away, but I 
 could not see what he was looking at. He was 
 abstracted and communing with himself, or with 
 some presence of which I was unaware. 
 
 I waited for some time. At last, drawing a 
 long breath — for we breathe here — he turned his 
 eyes to me and said, with a kind smile : 
 
 78 
 
THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 79 
 
 "Can I do anything for you, brother?" 
 
 I was embarrassed for a moment, feeling that 
 I might have intruded upon some sweet com- 
 munion. 
 
 "If I am not too bold in asking," I said, "would 
 you tell me what you were thinking as you stood 
 there looking into space?" 
 
 I was conscious of my presumption; but being 
 so determined to learn what can be known, if 
 sometimes I am too bold in making inquiries, I 
 feel that my very earnestness may win for me the 
 forgiveness of those I question. 
 
 This man had a beautiful beardless face and 
 young-looking eyes; but his garments were the 
 ordinary garments of one who thinks little or 
 nothing of his appearance. That very uncon- 
 sciousness of the outer form may sometimes give 
 it a peculiar majesty. 
 
 He looked at me in silence for a moment ; then 
 he said: 
 
 "I was trying to draw near to God." 
 
 "And what is God?" I asked; "and where is 
 God?" 
 
 He smiled. I never saw a smile like his, as 
 he answered: 
 
 "God is everywhere. God is" 
 
80 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "What is He?" I persisted; and again he re- 
 peated, but with a different emphasis: 
 
 "God is." 
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked. 
 
 "God is, God is," he said. 
 
 I do not know how his meaning was conveyed 
 to me, perhaps by sympathy; but it suddenly 
 flashed into my mind that when he said, "God is" 
 he expressed the completest realisation of God 
 which is possible to the spirit; and when he said, 
 a God is," he meant me to understand that there 
 was no being, nothing that is, except God. 
 
 There must have been in my face a reflection 
 of what I felt, for the saint then said to me: 
 
 "Do you not also know that He is, and that 
 all that is, is He?" 
 
 "I am beginning to feel what you mean," I an- 
 swered, "though I doubtless feel but a little of it." 
 
 He smiled, and made no reply; but my mind 
 was full of questions. 
 
 "When you were on earth," I said, "did you 
 think much about God?" 
 
 "Always. I thought of little else. I sought 
 Him everywhere, but seemed only at times to get 
 flashes of consciousness as to what He really was. 
 Sometimes when praying, for I prayed much, 
 there would come to me suddenly the question, 
 
THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 8 1 
 
 'To what are you praying?' And I would an- 
 swer aloud, 'To God, to God!' But though I 
 prayed to Him every day for years, only occa- 
 sionally did I get a flash of that true conscious- 
 ness of God. Finally, one day when I was alone 
 in the woods, there came the great revelation. It 
 came not in any form of words, but rather in a 
 wordless and formless wonder, too vast for the 
 limitation of thought. I fell upon the ground 
 and must have lost consciousness, for after a 
 while — how long a time I do not know — I awoke, 
 and got up and looked about me. Then grad- 
 ually I remembered the experience which had been 
 too big for me while I was feeling it. 
 
 "I could put into the form of words the re- 
 alisation which had been too much for my mor- 
 tality to bear, and the words I used to myself 
 were, 'All that is, is God.' It seemed very sim- 
 ple, yet it was far from simple. 'AH that is, is 
 God.' That must include me and all my fellow 
 beings, human and animal; even the trees and 
 the birds and the rivers must be a part of God, if 
 God were all that is. 
 
 "From that moment life assumed a new mean- 
 ing for me. I could not see a human face with- 
 out remembering the revelation — that that hu- 
 man being I saw was a part of God. When my 
 
82 [LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 dog looked at me, I said to him aloud, 'You are 
 a part of God.* When I stood beside a river and 
 listened to the sound of its waters, I said to my- 
 self, 'I am listening to the voice of God.' When 
 a fellow being was angry with me, I asked myself, 
 'In what way have I offended God?' When one 
 spoke lovingly to me, I said, 'God is loving me 
 now,' and the realisation nearly took my breath 
 away. Life became unbelievably beautiful. 
 
 "Therefore I had been so absorbed in God, 
 in trying to find God, that I had not given much 
 thought to my fellow beings, and had even ne- 
 glected those nearest me; but from that day I 
 began to mingle with my human brethren. I 
 found that as more and more I sought God in 
 them, more and more God responded to me 
 through them. And life became still more won- 
 derful. 
 
 "Sometimes I tried to tell others what I felt, 
 but they did not always understand me. It was 
 thus I began to realise that God had purposely, 
 for some reason of His own, covered Himself 
 with veils. Was it that He might have the 
 pleasure of tearing them away? If so, I would 
 help Him all I could. So I tried to make other 
 men grasp the knowledge of God which I my- 
 self had attained. For years I taught men. At 
 
THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 83 
 
 first I wanted to teach everybody; but I soon came 
 to see that that was impossible, and so I selected 
 a few who called themselves my disciples. They 
 did not always tell the world that they were my 
 disciples, because I asked them not to do so. But 
 I urged each of them to give to someone as much 
 as possible of the knowledge that I had given to 
 him. And so I think that many have come to 
 feel a little of the wonder which was revealed to 
 me that day alone in the woods, when I awoke 
 to the knowledge that God is, God is." 
 
 Then the saint turned and left me, with all 
 my questions unanswered. I wanted to ask him 
 when and how he had left the earth, and what 
 work he was doing out here — but he was gone ! 
 
 Perhaps I shall see him again some day. But 
 whether I do or not, he has given me something 
 which I in turn give to you, as he himself desired 
 to give it to the world. 
 
 That is all for to-night. 
 
LETTER XXI 
 
 THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 
 
 ONE of the joys of being here is the leisure 
 for dreaming and for getting acquainted 
 with oneself. 
 
 Of course there is plenty to do; but though I 
 intend to go back to the world in a few years, 
 I feel that there is time to get acquainted with 
 myself. I tried to do that on earth, more or less ; 
 but here there are fewer demands on me. The 
 mere labour of dressing and undressing is lighter, 
 and I do not have to earn my living now, nor 
 anybody else's. 
 
 You, too, could take time to loaf, if you thought 
 you could. You can do practically anything you 
 think you can do. 
 
 I purpose, for instance, in a few years not only 
 to pick up a general knowledge of the conditions 
 of this four-dimensional world, but to go back 
 over my other lives and assimilate what I learned 
 in them. I want to make a synthesis of the com- 
 plete experiences of my ego up to this date, and 
 
 84 
 
THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 85 
 
 to judge from that synthesis what I can do in the 
 future with least resistance. I believe, but am 
 not quite sure, that I can bring back much of this 
 knowledge with me when I am born again. 
 
 I shall try to tell you — or some of you — when 
 and about where to look for me again. Oh, don't 
 be startled ! It will not be for some time yet. An 
 early date would necessitate hurry, and I do not 
 wish to hurry. I could probably force the com- 
 ing back, but that would be unwise, for I should 
 then come back with less power than I want. Ac- 
 tion and reaction being opposite and equal, and 
 the unit, or ego, being able to generate only so 
 much energy in a given time, it is better for me 
 to rest in this condition of light matter until I 
 have accumulated energy enough to come back 
 with power. I shall not do, however, as many 
 souls do ; they stay out here until they are as tired 
 of this world as they formerly were tired of the 
 earth, and then are driven back half unconsciously 
 by the irresistible force of the tide of rhythm. I 
 want to guide that rhythm. 
 
 Since I have been here one man whom I know 
 has gone back to the earth. He was about ready 
 to go when I first found him. The strange part 
 of it was that he himself did not understand his 
 condition. He complained of being tired of things 
 
$6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 and of wanting to rest much. That was probably 
 a natural instinct for rest, in preparation for the 
 supreme effort of opening the doors of matter 
 again. It is easy to come out here, but it re- 
 quires some effort to go from this world into 
 yours. 
 
 I know where that soul is now, for the Teacher 
 told me. I had spoken to the Teacher about him, 
 but he already knew of his existence. It was 
 rather strange, for the man was one in whom I 
 should have fancied that the Teacher would have 
 taken little interest. But one never knows. Per- 
 haps in his next life he may really begin to study 
 the philosophy which they teach. 
 
 But I was speaking of the larger leisure out 
 here. I wish you could arrange your life so as 
 to have a little more leisure. I do not want you 
 to be lazy, but the passive conditions of the mind 
 are quite as valuable as the active conditions. It 
 is when you are passive that we can reach you. 
 When your mind and body are always occupied, 
 it is difficult to impress you with any message of 
 the soul. Find a little more time each day for 
 doing nothing at all. It is good to do nothing 
 sometimes; then the semi-conscious parts of your 
 mind can work. They can remind you that there 
 is an inner life ; for the inner life that is "capable" 
 
THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 87 
 
 to you on earth is really the point of contact with 
 the world in which we live. 
 
 I have said that the two worlds touch, and they 
 touch through the inner. You go in to come out. 
 It is a paradox, and paradoxes conceal great 
 truths. Contradictions are not truths, but a para- 
 dox is not a contradiction. 
 
 There is a great difference in the length of 
 time that people stay out here. You talk of be- 
 ing homesick. There are souls here who are 
 homesick for the earth. They sometimes go back 
 almost at once, which is generally a mistake. Un- 
 less one is young and still has a store of unused 
 energy saved over from the last life, in going 
 back to the earth too soon one lacks the force of a 
 strong rebound. 
 
 It is strange to see a man here as homesick for 
 the earth as certain poets and dreamers on earth 
 are homesick for the inner life. 
 
 This use of the terms "outer" and "inner" may 
 seem confusing; but you must remember that while 
 you go in to come to us, we go out to come to 
 you. In our normal state here we are living al- 
 most a subjective life. We become more and 
 more objective as we touch your world. You be- 
 come more and more subjective as you touch our 
 world. If you only knew it, you could come to 
 
88 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 us at almost any time for a brief visit — I mean, 
 by going deep enough into yourself. 
 
 If you want to try the experiment and will not 
 be afraid, I can take you out here without your 
 quite losing consciousness in your body — I mean 
 without your being in deep sleep. You can call 
 me when you want to make a trial. If I do not 
 come at once, do not be discouraged. Of course 
 at the moment I might be doing something else; 
 but in that case I will come at another time. 
 
 There is no hurry. That is what I want to 
 impress upon you. What you do not do this 
 year you can perhaps do next year; but if you are 
 always rushing after things, you can accomplish 
 little in this particular work. Eternity is long 
 enough for the full development of the ego of 
 man. Eternity seems to have been designed for 
 that end. That was a sound statement which 
 was given at one time: "The object of life is life." 
 I have realised that more fully since I had an op- 
 portunity to study eternity from a new angle. 
 This is a very good angle from which to view 
 both time and eternity. I see now what I did not 
 see before, that I myself have never wasted any 
 time. Even my failures were a valuable part of 
 my experience. We lose to gain again. We go in 
 and out of power sometimes as we go in and out 
 
THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 89 
 
 of life, to learn what is there and outside. In this, 
 as in all things, the object of life is life. 
 
 Do not hurry. A man may grow gradually 
 into power and knowledge, or he may take them 
 by force. Will is free. But the gradual growth 
 has a less powerful reaction. 
 
LETTER XXII 
 
 THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 
 
 I WANT to talk to you to-night about eter- 
 nity. Until I came out, I never had a grasp 
 on that problem. I thought only in terms of 
 months and years and centuries; now I see the 
 full sweep of the circle. The comings out and 
 the goings into matter are no more than the sys- 
 tole and the diastole of the ego-heart; and, speak- 
 ing from the standpoint of eternity, they are rela- 
 tively as brief. To you a lifetime is a long time. 
 It used to seem so to me, but it does not seem so 
 now. 
 
 People are always saying, "If I had my life 
 to live over, I would do so and so.'' Now, no 
 man has any particular life to live over, any more 
 than the heart can go back and beat over again 
 the beat of the second previous; but every man 
 has his next life to prepare for. Suppose you 
 have made a botch of your existence. Most men 
 have, viewed from the standpoint of their highest 
 ideal; but every man who can think must have 
 
 90 
 
THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 9 1 
 
 assimilated some experience which he can carry 
 over with him. He may not, on coming out into 
 the sunlight of another life on earth, be able to 
 remember the details of his former experience, 
 though some men can recall them by a sufficient 
 training and a fixed will ; but the tendencies of any 
 given life, the unexplained impulses and desires, 
 are in nearly all cases brought over. 
 
 You should get away from the mental habit of 
 regarding your present life as the only one, get 
 rid of the idea that the life you expect to lead on 
 this side, after your death, is to be an endless 
 existence in one state. You could no more endure 
 such an endless existence in the subtle matter of 
 the inner world than you could endure to live for- 
 ever in the gross matter in which you are now 
 encased. You would weary of it. You could not 
 support it. 
 
 Do get this idea of rhythm into your brain. All 
 beings are subject to the law of rhythm, even the 
 gods, — though in a greater way than ourselves, 
 with longer periods of flux and reflux. 
 
 I did not want to leave the earth, I fought 
 against' it until the last; but now I see that my 
 coming out was inevitable because of the condi- 
 tions. Had I begun earlier I might have pro- 
 visioned my craft for a longer cruise; but when 
 
92 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 the coal and water had run out I had to make 
 port. 
 
 It is possible to provision even a small life- 
 craft for a longer voyage than the allotted three- 
 score years and ten; but one must economise the 
 coal and not waste the water. There are some 
 who will understand that water is the fluid of life. 
 
 Many persons resent the idea that the life after 
 death is not eternal, a never-ending progression 
 in spiritual realms; though few who so object 
 have much of an idea what they mean when they 
 talk of spiritual realms. 
 
 Life everlasting is possible to all souls — yes; 
 but it is not possible to go on forever in one direc- 
 tion. Evolution is a curve. Eternity is a circle, a 
 serpent that swallows its own tail. Until you are 
 willing to go in and out of dense matter, you will 
 never learn to transcend matter. There are those 
 who can stay in or out at will, and, relatively 
 speaking, as long as they choose; but they are 
 never those who shrink from either form of life. 
 
 I used to shrink from what I called death. 
 There are those on this side who shrink from 
 what they call death. Do you know what they 
 call death? It is rebirth into the world. Yes, 
 even so. 
 
 There are many here who are as ignorant of 
 
THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 93 
 
 rhythm as most people are on your side. I have 
 met men and women who did not even know that 
 they would go back to the earth again, who 
 talked of the "great change" as the men of earth 
 talk of dying, and of all that lay beyond as "un- 
 proved and unprovable." It would be tragic if 
 it were not so absurd. 
 
 When I knew that I had to die I determined 
 to carry with me memory, philosophy, and rea- 
 son. 
 
 Now I want to say something which will per- 
 haps surprise you. There is a man who wrote a 
 book called The Law of Psychic Phenomena,, and 
 in that book he said certain things of those two 
 parts of the mind which he called the subjective 
 and the objective. He said that the subjective 
 mind was incapable of inductive reasoning, that 
 the subjective mind would accept any premise 
 given it by the objective mind, and would reason 
 from that premise with matchless logic; but that 
 it could not go behind the premise, that it could 
 not reason backwards. 
 
 Now, remember that in this form of matter 
 where I am men are living principally a sub- 
 jective life, as men on earth live principally an ob- 
 jective life. These people here, being in the sub- 
 jective, reason from the premises already given 
 
94 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 them during their objective or earth existence. 
 That is why most of those who last lived in the 
 so-called Western lands, where the idea of rhythm 
 or rebirth is unpopular, came out here with the 
 fixed idea that they would not go back into earth 
 life. Hence most of them still reason from that 
 premise. 
 
 Do you not understand that what you believe 
 you are going to be out here is largely determina- 
 tive of what you will be. Those who do not believe 
 in rebirth cannot forever escape the rhythm of 
 rebirth; but they hold to their belief until the 
 tide of rhythm sweeps them along with it and 
 forces them into gross matter again, into which 
 they go quite unprepared, carrying with them 
 almost no memory of their life out here. They 
 carried out here the memory of the earth life be- 
 cause they expected so to carry it. 
 
 Many Orientals who have always believed in 
 rebirth remember their former lives, because 
 they expected to remember them. 
 
 Yes, when I realised that I had to leave the 
 earth I laid a spell upon myself. I determined 
 to remember through both the going out and the 
 subsequent coming in. Of course I cannot swear 
 now to remember everything when I come into 
 heavy matter again ; but I am determined to do so 
 
THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 95 
 
 if possible; and I shall succeed to some extent if 
 I do not get the wrong mother. I intend to take 
 great care on that point, and to choose a mother 
 who is familiar with the idea of rebirth. If pos- 
 sible, I want to choose a mother who actually 
 
 knew me in my last life as , and who, if I 
 
 shall announce in childhood that I am that same 
 
 whom she knew when a young girl, will not 
 
 chide me and drive me back into myself with her 
 doubts. 
 
 I believe that many children carry over into 
 earth life memories of their lives out here, but 
 that those memories are afterwards lost by rea- 
 son of the suggestion constantly given to children 
 that they are newly created, a fresh from the hand 
 of God," etc., etc. 
 
 Eternity is indeed long, and there are more 
 things on earth and heaven than are dreamed of 
 in the philosophy of the average teacher of chil- 
 dren. 
 
 If you could only get hold of the idea of im- 
 mortal life and cling to it! If you could realise 
 yourself as being without beginning and without 
 end, then you might commence to do things worth 
 while. It is a wonderful consciousness that con- 
 sciousness of eternity. Small troubles seem in- 
 deed small to him who thinks of himself in the 
 
g6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 terms of a million years. You may make the 
 figure a billion, or whatever you like, but the idea 
 is the same. No man can grasp the idea of a 
 million years, or a million dollars, or a million of 
 anything ; the figure is merely a symbol for a great 
 quantity, whether it be years or gold pieces. The 
 idea cannot be fixed; there will always be some- 
 thing that escapes. No millionaire knows exactly 
 what he is worth at any given time; for there is 
 always interest to be counted, and the value is a 
 shifting one. It is so with immortality. Do not 
 think of yourself as having lived a million years, 
 or a trillion years, but. as truly immortal, without 
 beginning or end. The man who knows himself 
 to be rich is richer than the man who says that 
 he has a certain amount of money, be the amount 
 large or small. So rest in the consciousness of 
 eternity and work in the consciousness of eternity. 
 That is all for to-night. 
 
LETTER XXIII 
 
 A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENDANT 
 
 TELL the friend who is so anxious lest I do 
 you harm by writing with your hand that 
 that matter was thoroughly threshed out on this 
 side between the Teacher and me before it began 
 to take form on your side. 
 
 Ordinary mediumship, where the organism of 
 a more or less unhealthy person on earth is opened 
 indiscriminately for the entrance and obsession of 
 any passing spirit, good or evil, is a very different 
 proposition from this. Here I, who was your 
 friend in the world, having passed beyond, reach 
 back to instruct you from my greater knowledge 
 on this side. 
 
 I am not making any opening in your nervous 
 system through which irresponsible and evil forces 
 can enter and take possession of you. In fact, if 
 any spirit, good or bad, should make such an at- 
 tempt, he would have to reckon with me, and I 
 am not powerless. I know now, have both re- 
 membered and been taught, secrets by which I can 
 protect you from what is generally known as me- 
 
 97 
 
98 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 diumship. Furthermore, I advise you never, even 
 at the urgent prayer of those whose loved ones 
 have gone out — never to lend yourself to them. 
 The wanderers in the so-called invisible world 
 have no right to come and demand entrance 
 through your organism, merely because it is so 
 constituted that they could enter, any more than a 
 street crowd would have the right to force its way 
 into your home, merely because its members were 
 curious, hungry, or cold. Do not allow it. Per- 
 mission was once given, yes ; but the case was ex- 
 ceptional and was not based on the personal de- 
 sire or curiosity of anybody — not even yourself. 
 I doubt if permission will ever be granted again. 
 
 Many things have changed since I began to 
 write with you. At first I used your hand and 
 arm from the outside — sometimes, as you re- 
 member, with such force as to make them lame 
 the next day. Then, grown more familiar with 
 the means at my disposal, I tried another method, 
 and you noticed a change in the character of the 
 writing. It began clumsily, with large and badly 
 formed characters, gradually becoming clearer as 
 my control of the instrument I was using was bet- 
 ter established. 
 
 Now, for the last few times I have used still 
 another and a third method. I enter your mind, 
 
A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENDANT 99 
 
 putting myself in absolute telepathic rapport with 
 your mind, impressing upon your mind itself the 
 things I wish to say. In order to write in this 
 way, you have to make yourself utterly passive, 
 stilling all individual thought and yielding your- 
 self to my thought; but that is no more than you 
 do every day in reading a fascinating book. You 
 give your mind to the author who leads you along, 
 rapt and passive, by means of the printed page. 
 
 These experiments in perfecting a way of com- 
 munication have been very interesting to me. 
 
 Tell your friend that I am not a child, nor a 
 reckless experimentalist. Not only in my last life 
 on earth but in many former lives I have been a 
 student of the higher science, giving myself abso- 
 lutely to truth and to the quest of truth. I have 
 never wantonly used any human being to his or 
 her detriment, and I certainly shall not begin with 
 you, my true friend and student. 
 
 Nor shall I interfere in any way with your life, 
 or with your studies and work. The idea is non- 
 sensical. While I walked the world on two feet 
 I was never considered a dangerous man. I have 
 not changed my character merely by changing my 
 clothes and putting on a lighter suit. 
 
 I have certain things to say to the world. At 
 present you are the only person who can act as 
 
100 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 amanuensis for me. This is neither my fault nor 
 yours. The question before us is not whether I 
 want the letters written, or even whether you 
 want to write them, but whether they will be bene- 
 ficial to the world. I think they will. You think 
 
 they may be. B thinks that they are not 
 
 only immensely valuable, but unique. So-and-so 
 and So-and-so have doubts and fears. I cannot 
 help that, nor can you. 
 
 Bless their hearts! Why should they be so 
 anxious to bolt the doors behind me? I shall cer- 
 tainly not try to run their affairs for them from 
 this side. They are equal to their job, or they 
 would not be able to hold it. But this is quite a 
 different job which I have given myself, and you 
 have kindly consented to help me. 
 
 You may not get much reward for your labour, 
 save the shake of the wiseacres' heads and their 
 superior smiles, and the suggestion of the more 
 scientifically inclined that I am your own "sub- 
 conscious mind." I shall not be offended by that 
 hypothesis, nor need you. 
 
 Of course you are not worried, for if you were 
 I could not write. Your mind has to be placid as 
 a lake on a windless night in order for me to 
 write at all. 
 
 Give my love to them. 
 
LETTER XXIV 
 
 FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE 
 
 I HAVE been doing many things of late. You 
 could never imagine where I went the other 
 day — to the great funeral of the Emperor of 
 Japan. You could not go from Paris to Japan 
 and return in so short a time, could you? But I 
 did. 
 
 An hour before starting I did not even know 
 that the Emperor of Japan was dead. The 
 Teacher sought me out and invited me to go with 
 him. He said that something would occur there 
 which I ought to see. 
 
 His prophecy was verified. I saw a soul, a 
 great soul, go out as a suicide. It was sad and 
 terrible. 
 
 But as I write this the Teacher comes and 
 stands beside me; he advises me to say no more 
 on that subject. 
 
 One sees horrible things out here, as well as 
 beautiful things. I can only say with regard to 
 
 IOI 
 
102 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 suicide, that if men knew what awaits those who 
 go out by their own hand, they would remain with 
 the evil that they know. I am sorry I cannot tell 
 you more about this, for it would interest you. 
 The testimony of an eye-witness is always more 
 convincing than the mere repetition of theories. 
 
 The appearance of the Teacher with his advice 
 has put out of my mind for the moment the desire 
 to write. But I will come again. , 
 
 Later. 
 
 I have been able to do what you so much de- 
 sired — to find the boy who came out accidentally 
 by drowning. 
 
 As you looked at his photograph, I saw it 
 through your eyes, and carried away the memory 
 of the face. I found him wandering about, quite 
 bewildered. When I spoke to him of you and 
 said that you had asked me to help him, he seemed 
 surprised. 
 
 I was able to give him a little aid, though he 
 has a friend here — an old man, who is nearer to 
 him than I could ever be. He will gradually ad- 
 just himself to the new conditions. 
 
 You had better not try to speak with him. He 
 is on a different path, and is being looked after, 
 for he has friends. The little help I was able to 
 
FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE IO3 
 
 give was in the nature of information. He needed 
 diversion from a too-pressing thought, and I sug- 
 gested one or two ways of passing time which are 
 both agreeable and instructive. 
 
 You wonder at the expression "passing time" ? 
 But time exists out here. Wherever there is se- 
 quence, there is time. There may come a "time" 
 when all things will exist simultaneously, past, 
 present and — shall we say future? But so long 
 as past, present and future are more or less dis- 
 tinct, so long time is. It is nothing but the prin- 
 ciple of sequence. Did you fancy it was anything 
 else? 
 
 Interiorly, that is, deep within the self, one may 
 find a silent place where all things seem to exist in 
 unison; but as soon as the soul even there at- 
 tempts to examine things separately, then sequence 
 begins. 
 
 The union with the All is another matter. That 
 is, or seems to be, timeless; but as soon as one 
 attempts to unite with or to be conscious of things, 
 time is manifest. 
 
LETTER XXV 
 
 A SHADOWLESS WORLD 
 
 1HAD been here some time before I noticed 
 one of the most marked peculiarities of this 
 world. 
 
 One night as I was passing slowly along, I saw 
 a group of persons approaching me. It was very 
 light where they were, because there were so many 
 of them. Suddenly, as I saw this light, a thought 
 came to my mind, a saying from one of the Her- 
 metic books : "Where the light is strongest, there 
 are the shadows deepest." But on looking at 
 these men and women, I saw that they cast no 
 shadows. 
 
 I hailed the nearest man — you must remember 
 that this was soon after I came out, and when I 
 was still more ignorant than I am now — and I 
 called his attention to this peculiar phenomenon 
 of a shadowless yet brilliantly lighted world. He 
 smiled at my surprise, and said: 
 
 "You have not been here long, have you?" 
 104 
 
A SHADOWLESS WORLD IO5 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then you are not aware that we light our own 
 place? The substance of which our bodies are 
 composed is radiant. How could our forms cast 
 shadows, when light radiates from them in all 
 directions?" 
 
 "And in the sunlight?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh," he answered, "you know that in the sun- 
 light we cannot be seen at all ! The light of the 
 sun is coarse and crude, and it puts out the light 
 of the spirits." 
 
 Does it seem strange to you that at this moment 
 I can feel the warmth of that wood fire by which 
 you sit? There is a magic in burning wood. The 
 combustion of coal has quite a different effect upon 
 the psychic atmosphere. If one who had always 
 been blind to visions and insensible to the finer 
 feelings and premonitions of the invisible world 
 would try meditating before a blazing wood fire 
 for an hour or two every day or night, his eyes 
 and other subtler senses might be opened to things 
 of which he had theretofore never even dreamed. 
 
 Those Orientals who worship their God with 
 fire are wise and full of visions. The light of 
 burning wax has also a magical effect, though dif- 
 ferent from that of a wood fire. Sit sometimes 
 
106 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 in the evening with no light but that of a solitary 
 candle, and see what visions will come from the 
 ''Void." 
 
 I have not told you anything for a long time 
 about the boy Lionel. He is now much interested 
 in the idea of choosing a family of engineers in 
 which to be born again. The thought is one to 
 which he is always returning. 
 
 "Why are you in such a hurry to leave me?" I 
 asked him, the first time he mentioned the subject. 
 
 "But I do not feel as if I should be leaving you 
 altogether," he replied. "I could come out to you 
 in dreams." 
 
 "Not at first," I told him. "You would be 
 prisoned and blind and deaf for a long time, and 
 you might not be able to come out to me here until 
 after I had also gone back again to the earth." 
 
 "Then why not come along with me?" he 
 asked. "Say, Father, why shouldn't we be born 
 as twins?" 
 
 The idea was so absurd that I laughed heartily; 
 but Lionel could not see where the joke came in. 
 
 "There are such things as twins," he said, seri- 
 ously. "I knew a pair of twin brothers when I 
 lived in Boston." 
 
 But, when I return to earth, it is no part of my 
 
A SHADOWLESS WORLD IO7 
 
 plan to be anybody's twin; so I tell Lionel that if 
 he wants to enjoy my society for a time he will 
 have to stay quietly where he is. 
 
 "But why can't we go back together?" he still 
 asks, "and be cousins or neighbours, at least?" 
 
 "Perhaps we can," I tell him, "if you do not 
 spoil everything by an unseemly haste." 
 
 It is strange about this boy. Out in this world 
 there is boundless opportunity to work in subtle 
 matter, opportunity to invent and experiment; yet 
 he wants to get his hands on iron and steel. 
 Strange ! 
 
 Some night I will try to bring the boy to pay 
 you a visit, so that you can see him- — I mean just 
 before you fall asleep. Those are the true visions. 
 The ones which come in sleep are apt to be con- 
 fused by the jarring of the matter through which 
 you pass in waking. Do not forget the boy. I 
 have already told him how I come and write with 
 your hand, and he is much interested. 
 
 "Why couldn't I operate a telegraph in that 
 way?" he asked me; but I advised him not to 
 try it. He might interrupt some terrestrial mes- 
 sage which had been sent and paid for. 
 
 Occasionally I take him with me up to the pat- 
 tern world. He has a little model of his own 
 there with which he amuses himself while I am 
 
108 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 examining other things. It is the model of a 
 wheel, and he sets it going by the electricity of his 
 fingers. No, it is not made of steel — not as you 
 know steel. Why, what you call steel is too 
 heavy! It would fall through this world so fast 
 that it would not even leave a rent behind it. 
 
 You must understand that the two worlds are 
 composed of matter not only moving at a different 
 rate of vibration, but charged with a different 
 magnetism. It is said that two solid objects can- 
 not occupy the same space at the same time ; but 
 that law does not apply to two objects — one of 
 them belonging to your world and the other to 
 ours. As water can be hot and wet at the same 
 time, so a square foot of space can contain a 
 square foot of earthly matter and a square foot 
 of etheric matter. 
 
 No, do not quibble about terms. You have 
 no terms for the kind of matter that we use here, 
 because you do not know anything about it. 
 Lionel and his electric wheel would both be in- 
 visible to you if they were set down on the hearth- 
 rug before you at this moment. Even the magic 
 of that wood fire would not make them visible — 
 at least, not in the daylight. 
 
 Some evening — but we will speak of that at 
 another time. I must go now. 
 
LETTER XXVI 
 
 CIRCLES IN THE SAND 
 
 1AM just beginning to enjoy the romance of 
 life out here. I must always have had the 
 romantic temperament; but only since changing 
 my place have I had time and opportunity to give 
 rein to it. On earth there was always too much 
 to be done, too many duties, too many demands 
 on me. Here I am free. 
 
 You have no idea of the meaning of freedom 
 unless you can remember when you were out here 
 last, and I doubt if you can remember that yet. 
 
 When I say "romance" I mean the charm of 
 existence, the magic touch which turns the grey 
 face of life to rose colour. You know what I 
 mean. 
 
 It is wonderful to have leisure to dream and to 
 realise one's dream, for here the realisation goes 
 with the dream. Everything is so real, imagina- 
 tion is so potent, and the power to link things is 
 so great — so almost unlimited! 
 
 109 
 
IIO LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 The dreamers here are really not idle, for our 
 dreaming is a kind of building; and even if it 
 were not, we have a right to do about as we 
 please. We have earned our vacation. The la- 
 bour will come again. We shall reclothe our- 
 selves in gross matter and take on its burdens. 
 
 Why, it takes more energy on earth to put one 
 heavy foot before another heavy foot, and to pro- 
 pel the hundred or two-hundred pound body a 
 mile, than it takes here to go around the world! 
 That will give you an idea of the quantity of sur- 
 plus energy that we have for enjoying ourselves 
 and for dream-building. 
 
 Perhaps on earth you work too much — more 
 than is really necessary. The mass of needless 
 things that you accumulate round you, the artifi- 
 cial wants that you create, the break-neck pace of 
 your lives to provide all these things, seem to us 
 absurd and rather pitiful. Your political econ- 
 omy is mere child's play, your governments are 
 cumbrous machines for doing the unnecessary, 
 most of your work is useless, and your lives would 
 be nearly futile if you did not suffer so much that 
 your souls learn, though unwillingly, that most of 
 their strivings are vain. 
 
 How I used to sweat and groan in the early 
 days to make my little circle in the sand! And 
 
CIRCLES IN THE SAND III 
 
 now I see that if I had taken more time to think, 
 I might have recovered something of my past 
 knowledge, gained in other lives; and though I 
 still had felt obliged to draw my circle in the sand, 
 I might have done it with less difficulty and in 
 half the time. 
 
 Here, if I choose, I can spend hours in watch- 
 ing the changing colours of a cloud. Or, better 
 still, I can lie on my back and remember. It is 
 wonderful to remember, to let the mind go back 
 year after year, life after life, century after cen- 
 tury, back and back till one finds oneself — a tur- 
 tle! But one can also look ahead, forward and 
 forward, life after life, century after century, aeon 
 after aeon, till one finds oneself an archangel. The 
 looking back is memory; the looking forward is 
 creation. Of course we create our own future. 
 Who else could do it? We are influenced and 
 moved and shifted and helped or retarded by 
 others ; but it is we ourselves who forge the chains 
 every time. We tie knots that we shall have to 
 untie, often with labour and perplexity. 
 
 In going back over my past lives I realise the 
 why and the wherefore of my last one. It was, 
 in a way, the least satisfactory of many lives — 
 save one; but now I see its purpose, and that I 
 laid the plans for it when I was last out here. I 
 
112 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 even arranged to go back to earth at a definite 
 time, in order to be with certain freinds who met 
 me there. 
 
 But I have turned the corner now, and have be- 
 gun the upward march again. Already I am lay- 
 ing the lines for my next coming, though there is 
 no hurry. Bless you ! I am not going back until 
 I have had my fill of the freedom and enjoyment 
 of this existence here. 
 
 Also I have much studying to do. I want to 
 review what I learned in those hitherto forgotten 
 but now remembered lives. 
 
 Do you recall how, when you went to school, 
 you had occasionally to review the lessons of the 
 preceding weeks or months? That custom is 
 based on a sound principle. I am now having my 
 review lessons. By and by, before I return to 
 the world, I shall review these reviews, fixing by 
 will the memories which I specially wish to carry 
 over with me. It would be practically impossible 
 to carry over intact the great panorama of ex- 
 perience which now unrolls itself before the eyes 
 of my memory; but there are several fundamen- 
 tal things, philosophical principles and illustra- 
 tions, which I must not forget. Also I want to 
 take with me the knowledge of certain formulae 
 and the habit of certain practices which you 
 
CIRCLES IN THE SAND 113 
 
 would probably call occult; by means of which, 
 when I am mature again in my new body, I can 
 call into memory this very pageant of experience 
 which now rolls before me whenever I will it. 
 
 No, I am not going to tell you about your own 
 past. You must, and can, recover it for your- 
 self. So can anyone who knows the difference 
 between memory and imagination. Yes, the dif- 
 ference is subtle, but as real as the difference 
 between yesterday and to-morrow. 
 
 I do not want you to be in any hurry about 
 coming out here to stay. Remain where you are 
 just as long as possible. Much that we do on 
 this side you can do almost as well while still 
 in the body. Of course you have to use more 
 energy, but that is what energy is for — to use. 
 Even when we store it, we store it for future 
 use. Do not forget that. 
 
 One reason why I rest much now and dream 
 and amuse myself is because I want to store as 
 much energy as possible, to come back with power. 
 
 It is well that you have taken my advice to 
 idle a little and to get acquainted with your own 
 soul. There are surprises in store for the per- 
 son who will deliberately set out on the quest of 
 his soul. The soul is not a will-o'-the-wisp; it 
 
114 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 is a beacon light to steer by and avoid the rocks 
 of materialism and forgetfulness. 
 
 I have had much joy in going back over my 
 Greek incarnations. What concentration they 
 had — those Greeks ! They knew much. The 
 waters of Lethe, for instance, — what a concep- 
 tion! — brought from this side by masterly mem- 
 ory. 
 
 If man would even try to remember, if he 
 would only take time to consider all that he has 
 been, there would be more hope of what he may 
 become! Why, do you know that man may be- 
 come a god — or that which, compared with ordi- 
 nary humanity, has all the magnitude and gran- 
 deur of a god? u Ye are gods," was not said in 
 a merely figurative sense. 
 
 I have met the Master from Galilee, and have 
 held communion with Him. There was a man 
 — and a god! The world has need of Him 
 now. 
 
LETTER XXVII 
 
 THE MAGIC RING 
 
 IT would be hard for you to understand, merely 
 by my telling you, the difference between 
 your life and ours. Begin with the difference 
 in substance, not only the substance of our bodies, 
 but the substance of natural objects which sur- 
 round us. 
 
 Do you start at the term "natural objects" 
 as applied to the things of this world? You did 
 not fancy, did you, that we had escaped Nature? 
 No one escapes Nature — not even God. Nature 
 is. 
 
 Imagine that you had spent sixty or seventy 
 years in a heavy earthly body, a body which in- 
 sisted on growing fat, and would get stiff-jointed 
 and rheumatic, even going on strike occasionally 
 to the extent of laying you up in bed for repairs 
 of a more or less clumsy sort. Then fancy your- 
 self suddenly exchanging this heavy body for a 
 light and elastic form. Can you imagine it? I 
 
 "5 
 
Il6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 confess that it would have been difficult for me, 
 even a year or two ago. 
 
 Clothed in this form, which is sufficiently ra- 
 diant to light its own place when its light is not 
 put out by the cruder light of the sun, fancy your- 
 self moving from place to place, from person 
 to person, from idea to idea. As time goes on 
 even the habit of demanding nourishment gradu- 
 ally wears off. We are no longer bothered by 
 hunger and thirst; though I, for instance, still 
 stay myself occasionally with a little nourish- 
 ment, an infinitesimal amount compared with the 
 beefsteak dinners which I used to eat. 
 
 And we are no longer harassed by the thou- 
 sand-and-one petty duties of the earth. Out here 
 we have more confidence in moods. Engagements 
 are seldom made — that is, binding engagements. 
 As a rule, though there are exceptions, desire is 
 mutual. I want to see and commune with a friend 
 at the same time when he feels a desire for my 
 society, and we naturally drift together. The 
 companionships here are very beautiful; but the 
 solitudes are also full of charm. 
 
 Since the first two or three months I have not 
 been lonesome. At first I felt like a fish out of 
 water, of course. Nearly everyone does; though 
 there are exceptions in the case of very spiritual 
 
THE MAGIC RING 117 
 
 people who have no earthly ties or ambitions* 
 I had so fought the idea of "dying," that my new 
 state seemed at first to be the proof of my failure, 
 and I used to wander about under the impression 
 that I was going to waste much valuable time 
 which could have been used to better advantage 
 in the storm and stress of earthly living. 
 
 Of course the Teacher came to me; but he was 
 too wise to carry me on his back even from the 
 first. He reminded me of a few principles, which 
 he left me to apply; and gradually, as I got hold 
 of the applications, I got hold of myself. Then 
 also gradually the beauty and wonder of the new 
 condition began to dawn on me, and I saw that 
 instead of wasting time I was really gaining tre- 
 mendous experience which could be utilised later. 
 
 I have talked with many people here, people of 
 all stages of intellectual and moral growth, and 
 I am sorry to say that the person who has a clear 
 idea of the significance of life and its possibili- 
 ties for development is about as rare here as on 
 the earth. As I have said before, a man does 
 not suddenly become all-wise by changing the 
 texture of his body. 
 
 The vain man of earth is likely to be vain 
 here, though in his next life the very law of re- 
 action — if he has overdone vanity — -may send 
 
Il8 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 him back as a modest or even bashful person, for 
 a while at least, until the reaction has spent it- 
 self. In coming out a man brings his character 
 and characteristics with him. 
 
 I have often been sorry for men who in life 
 had been slaves of the business routine. Many 
 of them cannot get away from it for a long time ; 
 and instead of enjoying themselves here, they 
 go back and forth to and from the scenes of their 
 old labours, working over and over some problem 
 in tactics or finance until they are almost as weary 
 as when they "died." 
 
 As you know, there are teachers here. Few 
 of them are of the stature of my own Teacher; 
 but there are many who make it their pleasure 
 to help the souls of the newly arrived. They 
 never leave a newcomer entirely to his own re- 
 sources. Help is always offered, though it is 
 not always accepted. In that case it will be of- 
 fered again and again, for those who give them- 
 selves to others do so without hope of reward 
 or even acknowledgment. 
 
 If I had set out to write a scientific treatise 
 of the life on this side, I should have begun in 
 quite a different way from this. In the first place, 
 I should have postponed the labour about ten 
 
THE MAGIC RING II9 
 
 years, until all my facts were pigeon-holed and 
 docketed; then I should have begun at the begin- 
 ning and dictated a book so dull that you would 
 have fallen asleep over it, and I should have 
 had to nudge you from time to time to pick up 
 the pencil fallen from your somnolent hand. 
 
 Instead, I began to write soon after coming 
 out, and these letters are really the letters of a 
 traveller in a strange country. They record his 
 impressions, often his mistakes, sometimes per- 
 haps his provincial prejudices; but at least they 
 are not a rehash of what somebody else has said. 
 
 I like your keeping my photograph on your 
 mantel as you do; it helps me to come. There 
 is a great power in a photograph. 
 
 I have been drawing pictures for you lately 
 on the canvas of dreams, to show you the futility 
 and vanity of certain things. Did you not know 
 that we could do that? The power of the so- 
 called dead to influence the living is immense, 
 provided that the tie of sympathy has been made. 
 I have taught you how to protect yourself against 
 influences which you do not want, so do not be 
 afraid. I will always stand guard to the extent 
 of warning you if there is any danger of attack 
 from this side. Already I have drawn a magic 
 
;i20 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ring around you which only the most advanced 
 and powerful spirits could pass, even if they de- 
 sired — that is, the Teachers and I drew it to- 
 gether. You are doing our work just now, and 
 have a right to our protection. That the labourer 
 is worthy of his hire is an axiom of both worlds. 
 Only you yourself could now let down the bars 
 for the inrush of evil and irresponsible spiritual 
 intelligences, and if you should inadvertently let 
 down the bars we should rush to put them up 
 again. We have some authority out here. Yes, 
 even so soon I can say that. Are you surprised? 
 
LETTER XXVIII 
 
 EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN 
 
 IONCE heard a man refer to this world as 
 the play world, "for," said he, "we are all 
 children here, and we create the environment that 
 we desire." As a child at play can turn a chair 
 into a tower or a prancing steed, so we in this 
 world can make real for the moment whatever 
 we imagine. 
 
 Has it never filled you with amazement, that 
 absolute vividness of the imagination of children? 
 A child says unblushingly and with conviction, 
 "That rug is a garden, that plank in the floor 
 is a river, that chair is a castle, and I am a king." 
 
 Why does he say these things? How can he 
 say these things? Because — and here is the point 
 — he still subconsciously remembers the life out 
 here which he so lately left. He has carried over 
 with him into the life of earth something of his 
 lost freedom and power of imagination. 
 
 That does not mean that all things in this world 
 are imaginary — far from it. Objects here, ob- 
 
 121 
 
122 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 jects existing in tenuous matter, are as real and 
 comparatively substantial as with you; but there 
 is the possibility of creation here, creation in a 
 form of matter even more subtle still — thought- 
 substance. 
 
 If you create something on earth in solid mat- 
 ter, you create it first in thought-substance; but 
 there is this difference between your creation and 
 ours : until you have moulded solid matter around 
 your thought-pattern you do not believe that the 
 thought-pattern really exists save in your own 
 fancy. 
 
 We out here can see the thought-creations of 
 others if we and they will it so. 
 
 We can also — and I tell you this for your com- 
 fort — we can also see your thought-creations, and 
 by adding the strength of our will to yours we 
 can help you to realise them in substantial form. 
 
 Sometimes we build here bit by bit, in the four- 
 dimensional world, especially when we wish to 
 leave a thing for others to see and enjoy, when 
 we wish a thing to survive for a long time. But 
 a thought-form is visible to all highly developed 
 spirits. 
 
 Of course you understand that not all spirits 
 are highly developed. In fact very few are far 
 progressed; but the dullest man out here has 
 
EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN 1 23 
 
 something which most of you have lost — the faith 
 in his own thought-creations. 
 
 Now, the power which makes creation possi- 
 ble is not lost to a soul when it takes on solid mat- 
 ter again. But the power is gradually overcome 
 and the imagination is discouraged by the in- 
 credulity of mature men and women, who say 
 constantly to the child: "That is only play; that 
 is not really so; that is only imagination." 
 
 If you print these letters, I wish you would 
 insert here fragments from that wonderful poem 
 of Wordsworth, "Intimations of Immortality 
 from Recollections of Early Childhood." 
 
 "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 
 The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 
 Hath had elsewhere its setting, 
 
 And cometh from afar: 
 Not in entire forgetfulness, 
 And not in utter nakedness, 
 But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
 
 From God, who is our home: 
 Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! 
 
 Shades of the prison-house begin to close 
 
 Upon the growing Boy, 
 But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, 
 
 He sees it in his joy; 
 
124 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 The Youth, who daily farther from the east 
 Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, 
 And by the vision splendid 
 Is on his way attended ; 
 At length the Man perceives it die away, 
 And fade into the light of common day." 
 
 There is almost no limit to the possibilities of 
 the imagination; but to get the full power of it, 
 one must trust one's imagination. If you say to 
 yourself constantly, as the mother says to the 
 child, "But this is only play; this is not real," you 
 never can make real the things you have created 
 in thought. 
 
 The imagination itself is like a child and must 
 be encouraged and believed in, or it cannot de- 
 velop and do its perfect work. 
 
 It is really fortunate for some of you that I 
 am out here. I can do more for you here than 
 there, because I have even greater faith in my 
 imagination than I had before. 
 
 The man who called this the play world has 
 been trying all sorts of experiments with the 
 power in himself. I have not his permission to 
 tell the stories he tells me, but they would sur- 
 prise you. For one thing, he helped his wife, 
 after his so-called death, to carry out a joint plan 
 of theirs which had seemed impossible to them 
 
EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN 1 25 
 
 before because of their lack of real faith. It was 
 for the erection of a certain kind of house. 
 
 But do not fancy that most people here are 
 trying to build houses on earth. Far from it. 
 Most of my fellow-citizens are willing to work 
 where they are, and to let the earth alone. Of 
 course there are "dreamers" like me, who are 
 not satisfied with one world, and who like to have 
 their fingers in both; but they are rather rare, 
 as poets are rare on earth. To most men the 
 world they happen to be in is sufficient for the 
 time being. 
 
 There is a certain fancy of mine, however, 
 which it will amuse me to help realise on earth. 
 You may not know that I am doing it, but I shall 
 know. I would not, "for the world," as you 
 say, disturb anybody by even the thought that 
 I am fussing around in affairs which now are 
 theirs. But if, unseen and unfelt, I can help with 
 the power of my self-confident imagination, there 
 will be no harm done, and I shall have demon- 
 strated something. 
 
LETTER XXIX 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 
 
 I SHOULD be very sorry if the reading of 
 these letters of mine should cause foolish 
 and unthinking people to go spirit-hunting, in- 
 viting into their human sphere the irresponsible 
 and often lying elemental spirits. Tell them not 
 to do it. 
 
 My coming in this way through your hand is 
 quite another matter. I could not do it if I had 
 not been instructed in the scientific method of 
 procedure, and I also could not do it if you should 
 constantly interrupt me by side-thoughts of your 
 own, and by questions relevant or irrelevant. It 
 is because you are perfectly passive and not even 
 curious, letting me use your hand as on earth I 
 would have used the hand of my stenographer, 
 that I am able to write long and connected sen- 
 tences. 
 
 Most spirit communications, even when genu- 
 ine, have little value, for the reason that they 
 
 126 
 
AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 1 27 
 
 are nearly always coloured by the mind of the 
 person through whom they pass. 
 
 You are right in reading nothing on the sub- 
 ject while these messages are coming, and in 
 thinking nothing about this plane of life where 
 I am. Thus you avoid preconceived ideas, which 
 would interrupt the flow of my ideas. 
 
 You know, perhaps, that while on earth I in- 
 vestigated -spiritualism, as I investigated many 
 things of an occult nature, looking always for 
 the truth that was behind them ; but I was con- 
 vinced then, and I am now more than ever con- 
 vinced, that, except for the scientific demonstra- 
 tion that such things can be — which, of course, 
 has value as a demonstration only, — most spirit- 
 hunting is not only a waste of time, but an abso- 
 lute detriment to those who engage in it. 
 
 This may sound strange coming from a so- 
 called "spirit," one who is actually at this time 
 in communication with the world. If that is so, 
 I cannot help it. If I seem inconsistent, then I 
 seem so; that is all. But I wish to go on record 
 as discouraging irresponsible mediumship. 
 
 If a person sitting for mediumship could be 
 sure that at the other end of the psychic line there 
 was an entity who had something sincere and im- 
 portant to say, and who really could use him or 
 
128 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 her to say it through, it would be another mat- 
 ter; but this world out here is full of vagrants, 
 even as the earth. As this world is peopled 
 largely from your world, it is inevitable that we 
 have the same kind of beings that you have. 
 They have not changed much in passing through 
 the doors of death. 
 
 Would you advise any delicate and sensitive 
 woman to sit down in the centre of Hyde Park, 
 and invite the passing crowds to come and speak 
 through her, or touch her, or mingle their mag- 
 netism with hers? You shudder. You would 
 shudder more had you seen some of the things 
 which I have seen. 
 
 Then, too, there is another class of beings here, 
 the kind which we used to hear the Theosophists 
 call elementals. Now, there has been a lot of 
 nonsense written about elementals; but take this 
 for a fact: there are units of energy, units of 
 consciousness, which correspond pretty closely to 
 what the Theosophists understand by elementals. 
 These entities are not, as a rule, very highly de- 
 veloped; but as the stage of earth life is the stage 
 to which they aspire, and as it is the next in- 
 evitable stage in their evolution, they are drawn 
 to it powerfully. 
 
 So do not be too sure that the entity which 
 
AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 1 29 
 
 raps on your table or your cupboard is the spirit 
 of your deceased grandfather. It may be merely 
 a blind and very desirous entity, an eager con- 
 sciousness, trying to use you to hasten its own 
 evolution, trying to get into you or through you, 
 so as to enjoy the earth and the coarser vibra- 
 tions of the earth. 
 
 It may not be able to harm you, but, on the 
 other hand, it may do you a great deal of harm. 
 You had better discourage such attempts to break 
 through the veil which separates you from them; 
 for the veil is thinner than you think, and though 
 you cannot see through it, you can feel through it. 
 
 Having said this, my duty in the matter is dis- 
 charged; and the next time I come I can tell you 
 a story, maybe, instead of giving you a lecture. 
 
 I really feel like an astral Scheherazade; but I 
 fear you would tire of me before a thousand-and- 
 one nights were past. A thousand-and-one nights ! 
 Before that time I shall have gone on. No, I do 
 not mean "died" again into another world be- 
 yond; but when I get through telling you what 
 I desire you to know about my life here, I want 
 to investigate other stars, if it shall be permitted. 
 
 I am like a young man who has lately inherited 
 a fortune and has at last unlimited means and 
 opportunity for travel. Though he might stay 
 
130 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 around home a few months, getting matters in 
 shape and becoming adjusted to his new freedom 
 of movement, yet the time would come when he 
 would want to try his wings. I hope that is not 
 a mixed metaphor; if so, you can edit me. I shall 
 not feel hurt. 
 
LETTER XXX 
 
 THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN 
 
 IF your eyes could pierce the veil of matter, 
 and you could see what goes on in the tenu- 
 ous world around and above that city of Paris, 
 you would gasp with wonder. I have spent much 
 time in Paris lately. Shall I tell you some of the 
 strange things I have seen? 
 
 In a street on the left bank of the river, called 
 the rue de Vaugirard, there lives a man of middle 
 age and sedentary habits who is a sort of ma- 
 gician. He is constantly attended and served by 
 one of the elemental spirits known as sylphs. 
 This sylph he calls Meriline. I do not know from 
 what language he got the name, for he seems 
 to speak several, and to know Hebrew. I have 
 seen this Meriline coming and going to and from 
 his apartment. No, it would not be right for me 
 to tell you where it is. The man could be iden- 
 tified, though the sylph would elude the census- 
 taker. 
 
 131 
 
132 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 Meriline does not make his bed or cook his 
 broth, for which humble service he has a char- 
 woman ; but the sylph runs errands and discovers 
 things for him. He is a collector of old books 
 and manuscripts, and many of his treasures have 
 been located by Meriline in the stalls which lie 
 along the banks of the Seine, and also in more 
 pretentious bookshops. 
 
 This man is not a devil-worshipper. He is 
 only a harmless enthusiast, fond of occult things, 
 and striving to pierce the veil which shuts the 
 elemental world from his eyes. A little less brandy 
 and wine, and he might be able to see clearly, for 
 he is a true student. But he is fond of the flesh, 
 and it preys upon the spirit. 
 
 One day I encountered Meriline going upon 
 one of his errands, and I introduced myself by 
 signalling with my hands and calling my name. 
 This attracted the attention of the sprite, who 
 came and stood beside me. 
 
 "Where are you going ?" I asked; and she 
 nodded towards the other side of the river. 
 
 The thought came to me that perhaps I ought 
 not to question this servant of the good magician 
 as to her master's business, so I hesitated. She 
 also hesitated; then she said: 
 
 "But he is interested in the spirits of men." 
 
THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN 1 33 
 
 This made the matter simpler, and I asked: 
 "You do his errands ?" 
 "Yes, always." 
 
 "Why do you do his errands?" 
 "Because I love to serve him." 
 "And why do you love to serve him?" 
 "Because I belong to him." 
 "I thought every soul belonged to itself." 
 "But I am not a soul!" 
 "Then what are you?" 
 "A sylph." 
 
 "Do you ever expect to be a soul?" 
 "Oh, yes! He has promised that I shall be, if 
 I serve him faithfully." 
 
 "But how can he make you to be a soul?" 
 
 "I don't know; but he will." 
 
 "How do you know that he will?" 
 
 "Because I trust him." 
 
 "What makes you trust him?" 
 
 "Because he trusts me." 
 
 "And you always tell him the truth?" 
 
 "Always." 
 
 "Who taught you what truth is?" 
 
 "He did." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 This seemed to puzzle the being before me, 
 
IJ4 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 and I feared she would go away; so I detained 
 her by saying, quickly: 
 
 "I do not want to worry you with questions 
 which you cannot answer. Tell me how you first 
 came into his service." 
 
 "Ought I?" 
 
 "So you have a conscience?" 
 
 "Yes, he taught me to have." 
 
 "But you say that he is interested in the spirits 
 of men." 
 
 "Yes, and I also know good spirits from bad 
 
 ones." 
 
 "Did he teach you that?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "How did you learn?" 
 
 "I always knew." 
 
 "Then you have lived a long time?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 "And when do you expect to have, or to become 
 a soul?" 
 
 "When he comes out here, into this world 
 where we are." 
 
 This staggered me by its daring. Had the 
 good magician been deceiving his sylph, or did 
 he really believe what he promised? 
 
 "What did he say about it?" I asked. 
 
THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN 135 
 
 "That if I would serve him now, he would 
 serve me later." 
 
 "And how is he going to do it?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Suppose you ask him?" 
 
 "I never ask questions. I answer them." 
 
 "For instance, what sort of questions?" 
 
 "I tell him where such and such a person is, 
 and what he or she is doing." 
 
 "Can you tell him what these people are think- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Not often — or not always. Sometimes I 
 can. 
 
 "How can you tell?" 
 
 "By the feel of them. If I am warm in their 
 presence, I know they are friendly to him; if I 
 am cold, I know they are his enemies. If I feel 
 nothing at all, then I know that they are not 
 thinking of him, or are indifferent." 
 
 "And your errand this evening?" 
 
 "To see a lady." 
 
 "And you are not jealous?" 
 
 "What is 'jealous'?" 
 
 "You are not displeased that he should in- 
 terest himself in ladies?" 
 
 "Why should I be?" 
 
 This was a question I could not answer, not 
 
136 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 knowing the nature of sylphs. She surprised me 
 "a little, for I had supposed that all female things 
 were jealous. But, fearing again that she might 
 leave me, I hurried to question her further. 
 
 "How did you make his acquaintance?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "He called me." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "By the incantation." 
 
 "What incantation?" 
 
 "The call of the sylphs." 
 
 "Oh," I said, "he called the sylphs and you 
 came!" 
 
 "Yes, of course. I liked him for his kindness, 
 and I made him see me." 
 
 "How did you manage it?" 
 
 "I dazzled his eyes until he closed them, and 
 then he could see me." 
 
 "Can he always see you now?" 
 
 "No, but he knows I am there." 
 
 "He can see you sometimes still?" 
 
 "Yes, often." 
 
 "And when he saw you first?" 
 
 "He was delighted, and called me loving 
 names, and made me promises." 
 
 "The promise of a soul— that first time?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN 137 
 
 "Then you had wanted to have a soul?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "Many of us want to be men. We love men 
 — that is, most of us do." 
 
 "Why do you love men?" 
 
 "It is our nature." 
 
 "But not the nature of all of you?" 
 
 "There are malignant spirits of the air." 
 
 "And what will you do when you have a soul?" 
 
 "I will take a body, and live on earth." 
 
 "And leave your friend whom you now serve?" 
 
 "Oh, no! It is to be with him that I specially 
 want a body." 
 
 "Then will he come back to the earth with 
 you?" 
 
 "He says so." 
 
 This again staggered me. I was becoming in- 
 terested in this magician; he had a daring imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 Could a spirit of the air develop into a hu- 
 man soul? I asked myself. Was the man self- 
 deceived? Or, again, was he deceiving his lovely 
 messenger? 
 
 I thought a little too long this time, for when 
 I turned again to speak to my strange companion, 
 she had left me. I tried to follow, but could 
 
138 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 not find her; and if she returned soon, it must 
 have been by some other road. Though I looked 
 in all directions, she was invisible to me. 
 
 Now, the question will arise in your mind: In 
 what language did I talk with this aerial servant 
 of a French magician? I seemed to speak in my 
 own tongue, and she seemed to respond in the 
 same. How is that? I cannot say, unless we 
 really used the subtle language of thought itself. 
 
 You may often, on meeting with a person 
 whose language you do not speak, feel an inter- 
 change of ideas, by the look of the eyes, by the 
 expression of the face, by gestures. Now im- 
 agine that, intensified a hundredfold. Might it 
 not extend to the simple questions and answers 
 which I exchanged with the sylph? I do not 
 say that it would, but I think it might; for, as I 
 said before, I seemed to speak and she seemed 
 to reply in my own language. 
 
 What strange experiences one has out here! 
 I rather dread to go back into the world, where 
 it will be so dull for me for a long time. Can 
 I exchange this freedom and vivid life for a long 
 period of somnolence, afterwards to suck a bot- 
 tle and learn the multiplication table and Greek 
 and Latin verbs ? I suppose I must— ?but not yet. 
 
 Good night. 
 
LETTER XXXI 
 
 A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS 
 
 BY the vividness with which you feel my pres- 
 ence at times, you can judge of the intensity 
 of the life that I am living. I am no pallid spook, 
 dripping with grave-dew. I am real, and quite as 
 wholesome — or so it seems to me — as when I 
 walked the earth in a more or less unhealthy 
 body. The ghastly spectres, when they return, do 
 not talk as I talk. Ask those who have seen and 
 heard them. 
 
 It is well that you have kept yourself com- 
 paratively free of communications "from the 
 other world." 
 
 It would have been amazing had you been 
 afraid of me. But there are those who would 
 be, if they should sense my presence as you sense 
 it. 
 
 One night I knocked at the door of a friend's 
 chamber, half expecting a welcome. He jumped 
 
 i39 
 
140 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 out of bed in alarm, then jumped back again, 
 and pulled the blanket over his head. He was 
 really afraid that it might be I ! So, as I did not 
 wish to be responsible for a case of heart failure, 
 or for a shock of hair which, like that in the old 
 song, "turned white in a single night," I went 
 quietly away. Doubtless he persuaded himself 
 next day that there were mice in the wainscot- 
 ting. 
 
 Had you been afraid of me, though, I should 
 have been ashamed of you; for you know better. 
 Most persons do not. 
 
 It is a real pleasure for me to come back and 
 talk with you sometimes. "There are no friends 
 like the old friends," and the society of sylphs 
 and spirits would never quite satisfy me if all 
 those whom I had known and loved should turn 
 their backs on me. 
 
 Speaking of sylphs, I met the TeacheT last 
 night, and asked him if that French magician 
 I told you about could really make good his prom- 
 ise to his aerial companion, and help her to ac- 
 quire the kind of soul essential to incarnation on 
 earth as a woman. His answer was, "No." 
 
 Of course I asked him why, and he answered 
 that the elemental creatures, or units of force 
 inhabiting the elements, as we use that term, could 
 
A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS 141 
 
 oot, during this life cycle, step out of their ele- 
 ment into the human. 
 
 "Can they ever do so?" I asked. 
 
 "I do not know," he replied; "but I believe 
 that all the less evolved units around the earth 
 are working in the direction of man; that the 
 human is a stage of development which they will 
 all reach some day, but not in this life cycle." 
 
 I asked the Teacher if he knew the magician 
 in question, and he answered that he had known 
 him for a thousand years, that long ago, in a 
 former life, the Paris magician had placed his feet 
 upon the path which leads to power; but that 
 he had been side-tracked by the desire for sel- 
 fish pleasures, and that he might wander a long 
 time before he found his way back to real and 
 philosophical truth. 
 
 "Is he to be blamed or pitied?" I asked. 
 
 "Pity cuts no figure in the problem," the 
 Teacher replied. "A man seeks what he de- 
 sires. 
 
 After the Teacher went away I began asking 
 myself questions. What was / seeking, and what 
 did I desire? The answer came quickly: "Knowl- 
 edge." A year ago I might have answered 
 "Power," but knowledge is the forerunner of 
 
142 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 power. If I get true knowledge, I shall have 
 power enough. 
 
 It is because I want to give to you, and pos- 
 sibly to others, a few scraps of knowledge which 
 might be inaccessible to you by any other means, 
 that I am coming back, and coming back, time 
 after time, to talk with you. 
 
 The greatest bit of knowledge that I have to 
 offer you is this: that by the exercise of will a 
 man can retain his objective consciousness after 
 death. Many persons out here sink into a sort 
 of subjective bliss which makes them indifferent 
 as to what is going on upon the earth or in the 
 heavens. I could do so myself, easily. 
 
 As I believe I have said before, while man on 
 earth has both subjective and objective conscious- 
 ness, but functions mostly in the objective, out 
 here he has still subjective and objective conscious- 
 ness, but the tendency is towards the subjective. 
 
 At almost any time, on composing yourself and 
 looking in, you can fall into a state of subjective 
 bliss which is similar to that enjoyed by souls on 
 this side of the dividing line called death. In 
 fact, it is by such subconscious experience that 
 man has learned nearly all he knows regarding 
 the etheric world. When the storms and passions 
 of the body are stilled, man can catch a glimpse 
 
A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS 143 
 
 of his own interior life, and that interior life is 
 the life of this fourth-dimensional plane. Please 
 do not accuse me of contradicting myself or of 
 being obscure; I have said that the objective con- 
 sciousness is as possible with us as the subjective 
 is with you, but that the tendency is merely the 
 other way. 
 
 You may remember a pair of lovers about 
 whom I wrote you a few weeks ago. He had 
 been out here some time, and had waited for her, 
 and helped her over the uncertain marsh-lands 
 which lie between the two states of existence. 
 
 I saw these lovers again the other day, but 
 they were not at all excited by my appearance. 
 On the contrary, I fancy that I put them out 
 somewhat by awakening them, by calling them 
 back from the state of subjective bliss into which 
 they have sunk since being together at last. 
 
 While he waited for her all those years, he 
 kept himself awake by expectation; while still on 
 earth she was always thinking of him out here, 
 and so the polarity was sustained. Now they 
 have each other; they are in "the little home" 
 which he built for her with so much pleasure out 
 of the tenuous materials of this tenuous world; 
 they see each other's faces whether they look out 
 
144 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 or in; they are content; they have nothing more 
 to attain (or so they tell each other), and they 
 consequently sink back into the arms of subjec- 
 tive bliss. 
 
 Now this state of bliss, of rumination, they 
 have a right to enjoy. No one can take it from 
 them. They have earned it by activity in the 
 world and elsewhere, it is theirs by rhythmic jus- 
 tice. They will enjoy it, I fancy, for a long time, 
 living over the past experiences which they have 
 had together and apart. Then some day one or 
 the other of them will become surfeited with too 
 much sweetness; the muscles of his (or her) soul 
 will stretch for want of exercise; he (or she) 
 will give a spiritual yawn, and by the law of re- 
 action, pass out — not to return. 
 
 Where will he (or she) go, you ask? Why, 
 back to the earth, of course! 
 
 Let us imagine him (or her) awaking from 
 that subjective state of bliss which is known to 
 them as attainment, and going for a short prome- 
 nade in blessed and wholesome solitude. Then, 
 with a sort of morning alertness in the heart and 
 the eye, he (or she) draws near to a pair of 
 earthly lovers. Suddenly the call of matter, the 
 eager, terrible call of blood and warmth, of ac- 
 tivity raised to the nth power, catches the half- 
 
A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS 145 
 
 awakened soul on the ethereal side of matter, 
 and 
 
 He has again entered the world of material 
 formation. He is sunk and hidden in the flesh 
 of earth. He awaits birth. He will come out 
 with great force, by reason of his former rest. 
 He might even become a "captain of industry," 
 if he is a strong unit. But I began by saying "he 
 or she." Let me change the figure. The man 
 would be almost certain to awake first, by reason 
 of his positive polarity. 
 
 Now, in drawing this imaginary picture of my 
 lovers, I am not making a dogma of the way in 
 which all souls return to earth. I am merely 
 guessing how these two will return (for she would 
 probably follow him speedily when she awoke and 
 found herself alone). And the reason why I 
 fancy they will return in that way is because they 
 are indulging themselves in too much subjective 
 bliss. 
 
 When will they go back? I cannot say. Per- 
 haps next year, perhaps in a hundred years. Not 
 knowing the numerical value of their unit of 
 force, I cannot guess how much subjective bliss 
 they can endure without a violent reaction. 
 
 I am sure that you are wondering if some day 
 
146 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 I shall myself sink into that state of bliss which 
 I have described. Perhaps. I should enjoy it — 
 but not for long, and not yet. However, I have 
 no sweetheart out here to enjoy it with me. 
 
LETTER XXXII 
 
 A CHANGE OF FOCUS 
 
 WITH the guidance of the Teacher, during 
 the last few weeks I have been going to 
 and fro in the earth and walking up and down 
 in it. You smile at the veiled reference. But 
 have not certain friends of yours actually feared 
 me, as if I were the devil of the Book of Job? 
 
 Now, to be serious, I have been visiting those 
 lands and cities where in former lives I lived and 
 worked among men. One of the many advan- 
 tages of travel is that it helps a man to remem- 
 ber his former existences. There is certainly a 
 magic in places. 
 
 I have been in Egypt, in India, in Persia, in 
 Spain, in Italy; I have been in Germany, Switzer- 
 land, Austria, Greece, Turkey, and many other 
 lands. The Dardanelles were not closed to me 
 recently, when by reason of the war you could 
 not have passed through. There are advantages 
 to almost every condition, even my present one; 
 for the law of compensation holds good. 
 
 147 
 
I48 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 In certain lives of the past I was a wide travel- 
 ler. 
 
 Now you may wonder how it is that I pass 
 easily from this world to yours, seeing into both. 
 But you must remember that your world and mine 
 occupy about the same space; that the plane of 
 the earth's surface is one of the lower and more 
 material planes of our world, using the word 
 "plane" as you would use the word "layer." 
 
 As I have said before, there are also places ac- 
 cessible to us which lie at some distance above 
 the earth's surface. "Mansions in the skies" are 
 more than figurative. 
 
 I have only slightly to change my focus at any 
 time, to find myself in your world. That I can- 
 not be seen there with the naked eye is no proof 
 that I am not there. Without that change of 
 focus, which is done through an action of will 
 and by knowing the method, I might even be oc- 
 cupying the same space as something in your 
 world and not know it. Note well this point, 
 for it is only half of something which I have to 
 say. The other half is, that you also may at any 
 time be — so far as space is concerned — in the im- 
 mediate neighbourhood of interesting things in 
 our world, and not know that you are there. 
 
 But if you focus to this world you are more 
 
A CHANGE OF FOCUS I49 
 
 or less conscious of it. So when I, knowing how, 
 focus to your world, I am there in consciousness 
 and can enjoy the varied sights of many cities, 
 the changing aspects of many lands. 
 
 When I first came out I could not see my way 
 about the earth very well, but now I can see bet- 
 ter. 
 
 No, I am not going to give you a formula to 
 give to other people by which you or they could 
 change focus at will and enter into relation with 
 this world, because such knowledge at the pres- 
 ent stage of human progress would do more harm 
 than good. I merely state the fact, and leave 
 the application for those who have the curiosity 
 and the ability to demonstrate it. 
 
 My object in writing these letters is primarily 
 to convince a few persons — to strengthen their 
 certainty in the fact of immortality, or the sur- 
 vival of the soul after the bodily change which 
 is called death. Many think they believe who 
 are not certain whether they believe or not. If 
 I can make my presence as a living and vital en- 
 tity felt in these letters, it will have the effect 
 of strengthening the belief of certain persons in 
 the doctrine of immortality. 
 
 This is a materialistic age. A large percentage 
 of men and women have no real interest in the 
 
I50 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 life beyond the grave. But they will all have to 
 come out here sooner or later, and perhaps a 
 few will find the change easier, the journey less 
 formidable, by reason of what I shall have taught 
 them. Is it not worth while? Is it not worth 
 a little effort on your part as well as on mine? 
 
 Any person approaching the great change who 
 shall seriously study these letters and lay their 
 principles to heart, and who shall will to remem- 
 ber them after passing out, need not fear any- 
 thing. 
 
 We all fail in much that we undertake, but I 
 hope I shall not fail in this. Do not you fail on 
 your side. I could not do this work without you, 
 nor could you do it without me. That is in an- 
 swer to the supposition that I am your subcon- 
 scious mind. 
 
 I have been in Constantinople and have stood 
 in the very room where I once had a remarkable 
 experience, hundreds of years ago. I have seen 
 the walls, I have touched them, I have read the 
 etheric records of their history, and my own his- 
 tory in connection therewith. 
 
 I have walked the rose-gardens of Persia and 
 have smelled the flowers — the grandchildren, 
 hundreds of times removed, of those roses whose 
 
A CHANGE OF FOCUS 151 
 
 fragrance was an ecstasy to me when, watching 
 with the bulbul, I paced there in another form 
 and with intentions different to mine now. It was 
 the perfume of the roses which made me remem- 
 ber. 
 
 In Greece also I have lived over the old days. 
 Before their degeneration began, what a race 
 they were! I think that concentration was the 
 secret of their power. The ether around that 
 peninsula is written over with their exploits, in 
 daring thought as well as daring action. The 
 old etheric records are so vivid that they shine 
 through the later writings; for you must know 
 that what are called astral records lie layer 
 against layer everywhere. We read one layer 
 instead of another, either by affinity or by will. 
 It is no more strange than that a man may go 
 among the millions of volumes in the British Mu- 
 seum and select the one he wants. The most 
 marvellous things are always simple of explana- 
 tion if one has the key to unlock their secret. 
 
 There has been much nonsense written about 
 vibration, but nevertheless truth lies thereabouts. 
 Where there is so much smoke there must be 
 fire. 
 
 In India I have met with yogis in meditation. 
 Do you know why their peculiar way of breath- 
 
152 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ing produces psychic results? No, you do not. 
 Now let me tell you : By holding the breath long 
 a certain — shall I say poison? — is produced in 
 the body, which poison, acting on the psychic na- 
 ture, changes the vibration. That is all. Vol- 
 umes have been written about yoga, but have any 
 of them said that? The untrained healthy lungs, 
 in the ordinary operation, get rid of this poison 
 by processes well known to physiologists, — that 
 is, in the natural man, adjusted to and working 
 contentedly on the material plane. But in order 
 for a man still living on the material plane to be- 
 come adjusted to the psychic world, a change of 
 vibration is necessary. This change of vibration 
 may be produced by a slight overdose of the 
 above-mentioned poison. Is it dangerous? Yes, 
 to the ignorant. To those who are learned in 
 its use it is no more dangerous than most of the 
 drugs in the pharmacopoeia. 
 
 Another time I will tell you about other secrets 
 which I have discovered going to and fro in the 
 earth and walking up and down in it. 
 
LETTER XXXIII 
 
 FIVE RESOLUTIONS 
 
 I HAVE stood at night on the roof of an 
 Oriental palace and watched the stars. You 
 who can see into the invisible world by changing 
 your focus, can easily understand how I, by a 
 reverse process, can see into the world of dense 
 matter. Yes, it is the same thing, only turned 
 the other way. 
 
 I stood on the roof of an Oriental palace and 
 watched the stars. No mortal was near me. 
 Looking down upon the sleeping city, I have seen 
 the cloud of souls which kept watch above it, have 
 seen the messengers coming and going. Once 
 or twice a wan, half-frightened face appeared 
 among the cloud of spirits, and I knew that down 
 below in the city someone had died. 
 
 But I had seen so many spirits since coming 
 out here that I was more interested in watching 
 the stars. I used to love them, and I love them 
 
 153 
 
154 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 still. Some day, if it is permitted, I hope to 
 know more about them. But I shall not leave 
 the neighbourhood of the earth until these let- 
 ters are finished. From the distance of the planet 
 Jupiter I might not be able to write at all. It 
 is true that one can come and go, almost with 
 the quickness of thought; but something tells me 
 that it is better to postpone for a time my 
 more extensive travelling. Perhaps when I get 
 out there I shall not want to come back for a long 
 time. 
 
 It means much to me this correspondence with 
 earth. During my illness I used to wonder if I 
 could come back sometimes, but I never imagined 
 anything like this. I would not have supposed 
 it possible to find any well-balanced and respon- 
 sible person with daring enough to join me in the 
 experiment. 
 
 I could not have written through the hand 
 of a person of untrained mind unless he or she 
 had been fully hypnotised. I could not have writ- 
 ten through the hand of the average intellectual 
 person, because such persons cannot make them- 
 selves sufficiently passive. 
 
 Be at peace. You are not a spirit medium, 
 using the word as it is commonly used, signifying 
 a passive instrument, an aeolian harp, set in an 
 
FIVE RESOLUTIONS 155 
 
 aperture between the two worlds and played upon 
 by any wind that blows. 
 
 Except as illustrating the fact that it can be 
 done, there is no great object in my telling you of 
 the things I have seen in your world since com- 
 ing to this other one. The next time you look 
 out into this plane of life and see the wonder- 
 ful landscapes and the people, remember that 
 it is in a similar way that I look back into your 
 plane of existence. It is interesting to live in two 
 worlds, going back and forth at will. But when 
 I go into yours it is only as a visitor, and I shall 
 never attempt to take a hand in its government. 
 There is such a rigorous custom-house on the 
 frontier between the two worlds that the traveller 
 back and forth cannot afford to carry anything 
 with him — not even a prejudice. 
 
 If you should come out here with a determina- 
 tion to see only certain things, you might give a 
 wrong value to what you would see. Many have 
 come out here at death with that mental attitude, 
 and so have learned little or nothing. It is the 
 traveller with the open mind who makes discov- 
 eries. 
 
 I brought over with me only a few resolutions : 
 
 To preserve my identity; 
 
I56 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 To hold my memory of earth life, and to carry 
 back the memory of this life when I should re- 
 turn to the world; 
 
 To see the great Teachers; 
 
 To recover the memories of my past incarna- 
 tions ; 
 
 To lay the necessary foundations for a great 
 earth life when I should go back next time. 
 
 That sounds simple, does it not? Already I 
 have done much besides; but if I had not borne 
 these points in mind I might have accomplished 
 little. 
 
 The only really sad thing about death is that 
 the average man learns so little from it. Only 
 my realisation of the fact that the chain of earth 
 lives is relatively endless could keep me from re- 
 gret that most persons make so little progress in 
 each life. But I comfort myself with the as- 
 surance that there is no hurry; that the pearls 
 in the chain of existence, though small, are all 
 in their inevitable places, and that the chain is 
 a circle, the symbol of eternity. 
 
 And it seems to me, with my still finite view, 
 that most men on this side waste their lives even 
 as they do on your side. That shows how far I 
 am yet from the ideal knowledge. 
 
 Viewed from the stars, whence I hope some 
 
FIVE RESOLUTIONS 1 57 
 
 day to view them, all these flat stretches in the 
 landscape of life may be softened by distance, 
 and the whole picture may take on a perspective 
 of beauty which I had not dreamed of while I 
 myself was but a speck upon the canvas. 
 
LETTER XXXIV 
 
 THE PASSING OF LIONEL 
 
 1HAVE lost my boy Lionel. He has gone — 
 I started to say the way of all flesh; but I 
 must revise the figure and say the way of all 
 spirits, sooner or later, and that way is back to 
 the earth. 
 
 One day not long ago I found him absorbed 
 in thought in our favourite resting-place, the lit- 
 tle hut beside a stream at the foot of a wooded 
 hill, which I told you about in one of my for- 
 mer letters. 
 
 I waited for a time until the boy opened his 
 eyes and looked at me. 
 
 "Father," he said, u my favourite teacher is 
 going to be married to-morrow." 
 
 "How do you know?" I asked. 
 
 "Why, I have been listening!" he answered. 
 "Every little while I go back and pay her a visit, 
 though she does not know I am there. I have 
 been aware that there was something in the wind." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 158 
 
THE PASSING OF LIONEL 1 59 
 
 "Because she has been so shining; there is a 
 light around her which was not there before." 
 
 "What caused the light, Lionel ?" 
 
 "Well, I suppose she is what they call in love." 
 
 "You are a phenomenally wise child," I said. 
 
 He looked at me with his large, honest eyes. 
 
 "I am not really a child at all," he answered. 
 "I am as old as the hills, as you, or as anybody. 
 Have you not told me that we are all immortal, 
 without end or beginning?" 
 
 "Yes, but go on, tell me about your teacher." 
 
 "She is in love with the big brother of one of 
 my playfellows. I used to know him when I was 
 a little boy. He let me use his magnet, and taught 
 me kite-flying, and showed me how machinery 
 went. He is an engineer." 
 
 "Oh!" I said. "In this case, of course, you are 
 glad that your favourite teacher is going to marry 
 him." 
 
 Lionel's eyes were larger than ever as he said : 
 
 "I shall be sorry to leave you, Father; but it 
 is a chance I cannot afford to miss." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "It is my opportunity to go back. IVe been 
 watching for it a long time." 
 
 "But are you ready?" 
 
 "What is it to be ready? I want to go." 
 
l60 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "And leave me?" 
 
 "I shall find you again. And — Oh, Father! — 
 when you come back I shall be older than you." 
 This idea seemed to delight him. 
 
 I was still human enough to be sorry that the 
 boy was going of his own free will ; but as will is 
 free, I would not make any effort to detain him. 
 Though young in that form, which had not yet 
 had time to grow up in the tenuous world since 
 he came out as a child, yet he was old in thought. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "perhaps you can help me along 
 when I also shall be- a child again." 
 
 "You see," he went on, "with a father like 
 Victor I shall learn all I want to know about ma- 
 chinery — that is, all that he can teach me; but 
 when I am grown I shall find out for myself many 
 things which he does not know. You remember 
 the little machine I have been working with, up 
 in the pattern world?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "When I am back on the earth I shall make 
 it a reality. Why, it actually runs now with the 
 electricity from my fingers!" 
 
 "But will it, when you have fixed it in material 
 form, in steel, or whatever it is to be made of?" 
 
 "Yes, of course it will. It is my invention. I 
 shall be a famous man." 
 
THE PASSING OF LIONEL l6l 
 
 "But supposing that somebody else finds it 
 first?" 
 
 "I don't think anybody will." 
 
 "Shall I help you to lay a spell around the pat- 
 tern, so that no one can touch it?" 
 
 "Could you do that, Father?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "Then let us go up there at once," he said, 
 "and do it immediately. I may have to leave this 
 world in a day or two." 
 
 I could not help smiling at the boy's desire to 
 hurry. Doubtless he would be present at that 
 wedding, and I should see little or nothing of him 
 afterwards. 
 
 We went up to the pattern world, and with his 
 assistance I drew a circle around the little ma- 
 chine — a spell which, I think, will protect it until 
 he is ready to make his claim. 
 
 Oh inspiration! Oh invention! Genius! Lit- 
 tle do the men of earth know the meaning of those 
 words. Perhaps the poet's famous poem was 
 sung before his birth; perhaps the engineer's in- 
 vention lay in the pattern world, protected by 
 his spell, while he grew to manhood and advanced 
 in science and made ready to claim it for his own, 
 his prior and spiritual creation. Perhaps, when 
 two men discover or invent the same thing at 
 
1 62 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 about the same time, one has succeeded in appro- 
 priating the design which the other left behind 
 him when he came back to earth. Sometimes, 
 perhaps, both have taken from the invisible the 
 creation of a third man, who still awaits rebirth. 
 
 Lionel babbled on to me about the life to come, 
 
 and of what a charming mother Miss would 
 
 be. She had always been good to him. 
 
 "Perhaps," I said, "many of us who return al- 
 most immediately, as you hope to do, seek out 
 those who have been good to us in a former 
 life." 
 
 "There is another point," Lionel said. "Miss 
 
 is a friend of my own mother, the one I 
 
 left a few years ago. It will be so good to have 
 her hold my hand again." 
 
 "Do you think she will recognise you?" I asked. 
 
 "Who knows? She believes in rebirth." 
 
 "How can you say that? You were so little 
 when you came out!" 
 
 "I was seven years old, and already she had 
 told me that we live many lives on earth." 
 
 "Bless the souls who first brought that belief 
 to the Western world!" I exclaimed. "And now, 
 my boy, is there anything that I can do for you 
 after you leave me?" 
 
THE PASSING OF LIONEL 1 63 
 
 "Yes, of course; you can watch over my new 
 mother, and warn her if any danger threatens 
 her or me." 
 
 "Then make me acquainted with her now." 
 We went out into the material world, the 
 boy and I. Already I have told you how we 
 
 go- 
 He took me to a little house in one of the sub- 
 urbs of Boston. We entered a room — it was 
 then about eleven o'clock at night upon that part 
 of the earth, — and I saw a fair young woman 
 kneeling beside her bed, praying to God that He 
 would bless the union of the morrow which was 
 to give her to the man she loved. 
 
 Lionel went close to her and threw his arms 
 about her neck. 
 
 She started, as if she actually felt the contact, 
 and sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Miss , Miss , don't you know me?" 
 
 he cried; but while I could hear him, she evi- 
 dently could not, though she looked about her 
 in a half-frightened way. 
 
 Then, supposing that the touch and the pres- 
 ence she had felt were imaginary, she again fell 
 upon her knees and went on with her interrupted 
 prayer. 
 
164 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "Come away," I said to the boy; and we left 
 her there with her dreams and her devotions. 
 
 That was the last I saw of Lionel. He bade 
 me good-bye, saying: 
 
 "I shall stay near her for a few days. Per- 
 haps I shall go back and forth, from her to you ; 
 but if I do not return, I will meet you again in 
 a few years." 
 
 "Yes," I said, "it is affinity and desire which 
 draw souls together, either on earth or in the 
 other world." 
 
 When next I met the Teacher I told him about 
 Lionel, and asked him if he thought the boy could 
 come out to me now and then, after his life on 
 earth had begun, as an unborn entity in the shel- 
 ter of his mother's form. 
 
 "Probably not," he replied. "If he were an 
 adept soul, he might do that; but with a soul of 
 even high development, lacking real adeptship, it 
 would be impossible." 
 
 "Yet," I said, "men living on earth do come 
 out here in dreams." 
 
 "Yes, but when the soul enters matter, pre- 
 paring for rebirth, it enters potentiality, if we 
 may use the term, and all its strength is needed 
 in the herculean effort to form the new body and 
 
THE PASSING OF LIONEL 1 65 
 
 adjust to it. After birth, -when the eyes are 
 opened, and the lungs are expanded to the air, 
 the task is easier, and there may be left enough 
 unused energy to bridge the gulf. 
 
 "But," he went on, "those who are soon to 
 be mothers are often vaguely conscious of the 
 souls they harbour. Even when they do not grasp 
 the full significance of the miracle that is being 
 performed through them, they have strange 
 dreams and visions, which are mostly glimpses 
 into the past incarnations of the unborn child. 
 They see dream countries where the entity within 
 has dwelt in the past ; they feel desires which they 
 cannot explain — reflected desires which are mere- 
 ly the latent yearnings of the unborn one; they 
 experience groundless fears which are its former 
 dreads and terrors. The mother who nourishes 
 a truly great soul, during this period of for- 
 mation may herself grow spiritually beyond her 
 own unaided possibility; while the mother of 
 an unborn criminal often develops strange 
 perversities, quite unlike her normal state of 
 mind. 
 
 "If a woman were sufficiently intelligent and 
 informed, she could judge from her own feel- 
 ings and ideas what sort of soul was to be her 
 child some day, and prepare to guide it accord- 
 
1 66 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ingly. More knowledge is needed, here as else- 
 where.' ' 
 
 So, as in all my experiences, I learned some- 
 thing through the passing out of Lionel. 
 
LETTER XXXV 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL BEING 
 
 YES, I have seen angels, if by angels you mean 
 spiritual beings who have never dwelt as 
 men upon the earth. 
 
 As a man is to a rock, so is an angel to a man 
 in vividness of life. If we ever experienced that 
 state of etheric joy, we have lost it through long 
 association with matter. Can we ever regain 
 it? Perhaps. The event is in our hand. 
 
 Shall I tell you of one whom I call the Beauti- 
 ful Being? If it has a name in heaven, I have 
 not heard it. Is the Beautiful Being man or 
 woman? Sometimes it seems to be one, some- 
 times the other. There is a mystery here which 
 I cannot fathom. 
 
 One night I seemed to be reclining upon a 
 moonbeam, which means that the poet which 
 dwells in all men was awake in me. I seemed 
 to be reclining upon a moonbeam, and ecstasy 
 filled my heart. For the moment I had escaped 
 
 167 
 
1 68 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 the clutches of Time, and was living in that etheric 
 quietude which is merely the activity of rapture 
 raised to the last degree. I must have been en- 
 joying a foretaste of that paradoxical state which 
 the wise ones of the East call Nirvana. 
 
 I was vividly conscious of the moonbeam and 
 of myself, and in myself seemed to be everything 
 else in the universe. It was the nearest I ever 
 came to a realisation of that supreme declara- 
 tion, "I am." 
 
 The past and the future seemed equally present 
 in the moment. Had a voice whispered that it 
 was yesterday, I should have acquiesced in the 
 assertion; had I been told that it was a million 
 years hence, I should have been also assentive. 
 But whether it was really yesterday or a million 
 years hence mattered not in the least. Perhaps 
 the Beautiful Being only comes to those for whom 
 the moment and eternity are one. I heard a voice 
 say: 
 
 "Brother, it is I." 
 
 There was no question in my mind as to who 
 had spoken. "It is I" can only be uttered in such 
 a voice by one whose individuality is so vast as 
 to be almost universal, one who has dipped in 
 the ocean of the All, yet who knows the minute 
 by reason of its own inclusiveness. 
 
THE BEAUTIFUL BEING 1 69 
 
 Standing before me was the Beautiful Being, 
 radiant in its own light. Had it been less lovely 
 I might have gasped with wonder; but the very 
 perfection of its form and presence diffused an 
 atmosphere of calm. I marvelled not, because 
 the state of my consciousness was marvel. I was 
 lifted so far above the commonplace that I had 
 no standard by which to measure the experience 
 of that moment. 
 
 Imagine youth immortalised, the fleeting made 
 eternal. Imagine the bloom of a child's face and 
 the eyes of the ages of knowledge. Imagine the 
 brilliancy of a thousand lives concentrated in 
 those eyes, and the smile upon the lips of a love 
 so pure that it asks no answering love from those 
 it smiles upon. 
 
 But the language of earth cannot describe the 
 unearthly, nor could the understanding of man 
 grasp in a moment those joys which the Beautiful 
 Being revealed to me in that hour of supreme life. 
 For the possibilities of existence have been wid- 
 ened for me, the meanings of the soul have deep- 
 ened. Those who behold the Beautiful Being are 
 never the same again as they were before. They 
 may forget for a time, and lose in the business 
 of living the magic of that presence; but when- 
 
170 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ever they do remember, they are caught up again 
 on the wings of the former rapture. 
 
 It may happen to one who is living upon the 
 earth ; it may happen to one in the spaces between 
 the stars; but the experience must be the same 
 when it comes to all; for only to one in the state 
 in which it dwells could the Beautiful Being reveal 
 itself at all. 
 
 A SONG OF THE BEAUTIFUL BEING 
 
 When you hear a rustling in the air, listen again: there 
 may be something there. 
 
 When you feel a warmth mysterious and lovely in the 
 heart, there may be something there, something 
 sent to you from a warm and lovely source. 
 
 When a joy unknown fills your being, and your soul 
 goes out, out . . . toward some loved mystery, you 
 know not where, know that the mystery itself is 
 reaching toward you with warm and loving, though 
 invisible, arms. 
 
 We who live in the invisible are not invisible to each 
 other. 
 
 There are tender colours here and exquisite forms, and 
 the eye gloats on beauty never seen upon the earth. 
 
THE BEAUTIFUL BEING 1 7 1 
 
 Oh, the joy of simple life to be, and to sing in your soul 
 all day as the bird sings to its mate! 
 
 For you are singing to your mate whenever your soul 
 sings. 
 
 Did you fancy it was only the spring-time that thrilled 
 you and moved you to listen to the rustling of 
 wings ? 
 
 The spring-time of the heart is all time, and the autumn 
 may never come. 
 
 Listen! When the lark sings, he sings to you. When 
 the waters sing, they sing to you. 
 
 And as your heart rejoices, there is always another heart 
 somewhere that responds; and the soul of the lis- 
 tening heavens grows glad with the mother joy. 
 
 I am glad to be here, I am glad to be there. There is 
 beauty wherever I go. 
 
 Can you guess the reason, children of earth? 
 
 Come out and play with me in the daisy fields of space. 
 I will wait for you at the corner where the four 
 winds meet. 
 
 You will not lose your way, if you follow the gleam at 
 the end of the garden of hope. 
 
172 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 There is music also beyond the roar of the earth as it 
 swishes through space: 
 
 There is music in keys unknown to the duller ears of 
 the earth, and harmonies whose chords are souls 
 attuned to each other. 
 
 Listen. . . . Do you hear them? 
 
 Oh, the ears are made for hearing, and the eyes are 
 made for seeing, and the heart is made for loving! 
 
 The hours go by and leave no mark, and the years are 
 as sylphs that dance on the air and leave no foot- 
 prints, and the centuries march solemn and slow. 
 
 But we smile, for joy is also in the solemn tread of the 
 centuries. 
 
 Joy, joy everywhere. It is for you and for me, and for 
 you as much as for me. 
 
 Will you meet me out where the four winds meet? 
 
LETTER XXXVI 
 
 THE HOLLOW SPHERE 
 
 SOME time ago I started to write to you about 
 certain visits which I had made to the infer- 
 nal regions ; but I was called away, and the letter 
 was not finished. To-night I will take up the 
 story again. 
 
 You must know that there are many hell's, and 
 they are mostly of our own making. That is one 
 of those platitudes which are based upon fait. 
 
 Desiring one day to see the particular kind of 
 hell to which a drunkard would be lively K ^ %q. I 
 sought that part of the hollow sphere arcunct cr he 
 world which corresponds to one of those coun- 
 tries where drunkenness is most common. Souls, 
 when they come out, usually remain in tile neigh- 
 bourhood where they have lived, unless the T ^e is 
 some strong reason to the contrary. ; / 
 
 I had no difficulty in finding a hell full of ctrunk- 
 ards. What do you fancy they were doing? Re- 
 penting their sins ? Not at all. They were hover- 
 
 i73 
 
174 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ing around those places on earth where the fumes 
 of alcohol, and the heavier fumes of those who 
 over-indulge in alcohol, made sickening the at- 
 mosphere. It is no wonder that sensitive people 
 dislike the neighbourhood of drinking saloons. 
 
 You would draw back with disgust and refuse 
 to write for me should I tell you all that I saw. 
 One or two instances will suffice. 
 
 I placed myself in a sympathetic and neutral 
 state, so that I could see into both worlds. 
 
 A young man with restless eyes and a troubled 
 face entered one of those u gin palaces" in which 
 gilding and highly polished imitation mahogany 
 tend to impress the miserable wayfarer with the 
 idea that he is enjoying the luxury of the "king- 
 doms of this world." The young man's clothes 
 were threadbare, and his shoes had seen much 
 W$ xr~ A stubble of beard was on his chin, for 
 the price of a shave is the price of a drink, and 
 a man takes that which he desires most — when he 
 can gee It. 
 
 He was leaning on the bar, drinking a glass of 
 some sou-destroying compound. And close to 
 him, taller than he and bending over him, with 
 its repulsive, bloated, ghastly face pressed close 
 to his, as if to smell his whisky-tainted breath, 
 was one of the most horrible astral beings which 
 
THE HOLLOW SPHERE 175 
 
 I have seen in this world since I came out. The 
 hands of the creature (and I use that word to 
 suggest its vitality) — the hands of the creature 
 were clutching the young man's form, one long 
 and naked arm was around his shoulders, the 
 other around his hips. It was literally sucking 
 the liquor-soaked life of its victim, absorbing him, 
 using him, in the successful attempt to enjoy vi- 
 cariously the passion which death had intensi- 
 fied. 
 
 But was that a creature in hell? you ask. Yes, 
 for I could look into its mind and see its suffer- 
 ings. For ever (the words "for ever" may be 
 used of that which seems endless) this entity was 
 doomed to crave and crave and never to be satis- 
 fied. 
 
 There was in it just enough left of the mind 
 which had made it man — just enough to catch a 
 fitful glimpse now and then of the horror of its 
 own state. It had no desire to escape, but the 
 very consciousness of the impossibility of escape 
 was an added torment. And dread was in the 
 eyes of the thing — dread of the future into which 
 it could not look, but which it felt waiting to drag 
 it into that state of even greater suffering than 
 its present, when the astral particles of its form, 
 unable longer to hold together because of the ab- 
 
I76 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 sence of the unifying soul, would begin to rend 
 and tear what was left of the mind and astral 
 nerves — rending and tearing asunder, in terror 
 and pain, that shape whose end was at hand. 
 
 For only the soul endures, and that which the 
 soul deserts must perish and disintegrate. 
 
 And the young man who leaned on the bar in 
 that gilded palace of gin was filled with a name- 
 less horror and sought to leave the place; but 
 the arms of the thing that was now his master 
 clutched him tighter and tighter, the sodden, va- 
 porous cheek was pressed closer to his, the desire 
 of the vampire creature aroused an answering de- 
 sire in its victim, and the young man demanded 
 another glass. 
 
 Verily, earth and hell are neighbouring states, 
 and the frontier has never been charted. 
 
 I have seen hells of lust and hells of hatred; 
 hells of untruthfulness, where every object which 
 the wretched dweller tried to grasp turned into 
 something else which was a denial of the thing 
 desired, where truth was mocked eternally and 
 nothing was real, but everything — changing and 
 uncertain as untruthfulness — became its own an- 
 tithesis. 
 
 I have seen the anguished faces of those not 
 yet resigned to lies, have seen their frantic ef- 
 
THE HOLLOW SPHERE 1 77 
 
 forts to clutch reality, which melted in their grasp. 
 For the habit of untruthfulness, when carried into 
 this world of shifting shapes, surrounds the un- 
 truthful person with ever-changing images which 
 mock him and elude. 
 
 Would he see the faces of his loved ones? The 
 promise is given, and as the faces appear they 
 turn into grinning furies. Would he grasp in 
 memory the prizes of ambition? They are shown 
 to be but disgrace in another form, and pride be- 
 comes weak shame. Would he clasp the hand of 
 friendship? The hand is extended — but in its 
 clutch is a knife which pierces the vitals of the 
 liar without destroying him, and the futile at- 
 tempt begins again, over and over, until the un- 
 easy conscience is exhausted. 
 
 Beware of deathbed repentance and its after- 
 harvest of morbid memories. It is better to go 
 into eternity with one's karmic burdens bravely 
 carried upon the back, rather than to slink 
 through the back door of hell in the stockinged- 
 feet of a sorry cowardice. 
 
 If you have sinned, accept the fact with 
 courage and resolve to sin no more; but he who 
 dwells upon his sins in his last hour will live them 
 over and over again in the state beyond the tomb. 
 
 Every act is followed by its inevitable reaction; 
 
I78 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 every cause is accompanied by its own effect, 
 which nothing — save the powerful dynamics of 
 Will itself — can modify; and when Will modi- 
 fies the effect of an antecedent cause, it is always 
 by setting up a counteracting and more powerful 
 cause than the first — a cause so strong that the 
 other is irresistibly carried along with it, as a 
 great flood can sweep a trickling stream of water 
 from an open hose-pipe, carrying the hose-pipe 
 cause and its trickling effect along with the rush- 
 ing torrent of its own flood. 
 
 If you recognise the fact that you have sinned, 
 set up good actions more powerful than your sins, 
 and reap the reward for those. 
 
 There is much more to be said about hells, but 
 this is enough for to-night. At another time I 
 may return to the subject. 
 
LETTER XXXVII 
 
 AN EMPTY CHINA CUP 
 
 IT is no wonder that children, no matter how 
 old and experienced their souls, have to be 
 retaught in each life the relative values of all 
 things according to the artificial standards of the 
 world; for out here those values lose their mean- 
 ing. 
 
 That a soul had houses, lands, and honours 
 among men does not increase his value in our 
 eyes. We cannot hope to profit by his discarded 
 riches. The soul in the "hereafter" builds its 
 own house, and the materials thereof are free as 
 air. If I use the house which another has built, 
 I miss the enjoyment of creating my own. 
 
 There is nothing worth stealing out here, so 
 no one trembles for fear of burglars in the night. 
 Even bores can be escaped by retiring to the very 
 centre of oneself, for a bore is himself too self- 
 centred ever to pierce to the centre of anyone else. 
 
 On earth you value titles, inherited or acquired; 
 179 
 
l80 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 here a man's name is not of much importance 
 even to himself, and a visiting-card would be lost 
 through the cracks in the floor of heaven. No 
 footman angel would ever deliver it to his Lord 
 and Master. 
 
 One day I met a lady recently arrived. She 
 had not been here long enough to have lost her 
 assurance of superiority over ordinary men and 
 angels. That morning I had on my best Roman 
 toga, for I had been reliving the past; and the 
 lady, mistaking me for Caesar or some other an- 
 cient aristocrat, asked me to direct her to a place 
 where gentlewomen congregated. 
 
 I was forced to admit that I did not know of 
 any such resort; but as the visitor seemed lonely 
 and bewildered, I invited her to rest beside me 
 for a time and to question me if she wished. 
 
 "I have been here several months," I said, 
 "and have gained considerable experience." 
 
 It was plain to see that she was puzzled by 
 my remark. She glanced at my classical garment, 
 and I could feel her thinking that there was some- 
 thing incongruous between it and my assertion 
 that I had been here only a few months. 
 
 "Perhaps you are an actor," she said. 
 
 "We are all actors here," I replied. 
 
 This seemed to puzzle her more than ever, 
 
AN EMPTY CHINA CUP l8l 
 
 and she said that she did not understand. Poor 
 lady! I felt sorry for her, and I tried my best 
 to explain to her the conditions under which we 
 live. 
 
 "You must know in the first place," I said, "that 
 this is the land of realised ideals. Now a man 
 who has always desired to be a king can play the 
 part up here if he wishes to, and no one will laugh 
 at him; for each spirit has some favourite dream 
 which he acts out to his own satisfaction. 
 
 "We have, madam," I continued, "reacquired 
 the tolerance and the courtesy of children who 
 never ridicule one another's play." 
 
 "Is heaven merely a play-room?" she asked, in 
 a shocked tone. 
 
 "Not at all," I answered; "but you are not in 
 heaven." 
 
 Her look of apprehension caused me immedi- 
 ately to add: 
 
 "Nor are you in hell, either. What was your 
 religion upon the earth?" 
 
 "Why, I professed the usual religion of my 
 country and station; but I never gave it much 
 thought." 
 
 "Perhaps the idea of purgatory is not unfa- 
 miliar to you." 
 
1 82 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "I am not a papist," she said, with some 
 warmth. 
 
 "Nevertheless, a papist in your position would 
 conceive himself to be in purgatory." 
 
 "I am certainly not happy," she admitted, "be- 
 cause everything is so strange." 
 
 "Have you no friends here?" I inquired. 
 
 "I must have many acquaintances," she said; 
 "but I never cared for intimate friendships. I 
 used to entertain a good deal; my husband's po- 
 litical position demanded it." 
 
 "Perhaps there is someone on this side to whom 
 you were specially kind at some time or other, 
 someone whose grief you helped to bear, whose 
 poverty you eased." 
 
 "I patronised our organised charities." 
 
 "I fear that sort of help is too impersonal to be 
 remembered here. Have you no children?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No brothers or sisters on this side?" 
 
 "I quarrelled with my only brother for marry- 
 ing beneath him." 
 
 "But surely," I said, "you must have had a 
 mother. Was she not waiting for you when you 
 came over?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 This surprised me, for I had been told that all 
 
AN EMPTY CHINA CUP 1 83 
 
 mother spirits who have not gone back to the 
 world know by a peculiar thrill when a child to 
 which they have given birth is about to be reborn 
 into the spiritual world — a sort of sympathetic 
 after-pain, the final and sweetest reward of 
 motherhood. 
 
 "Then she must have reincarnated," I said. 
 
 "Do you hold to that pagan belief?" the lady 
 inquired, with just a touch of superiority. "I 
 thought that only queer people, Theosophists and 
 such, believed in reincarnation." 
 
 "I was always queer," I admitted. "But you 
 know, of course, dear madam, that about three- 
 quarters of the earth's inhabitants are familiar 
 with that theory in some form or other." 
 
 We continued our talk for a little time, and 
 meanwhile I was puzzling my heart as to what I 
 could do to help this poor lonely woman, for 
 whom no one was waiting. I passed in mental 
 review this and that ministering angel of my ac- 
 quaintance, and wondered which of them would be 
 considered most correct from the conventional 
 earthly point of view. The noblest of them was 
 usually at the side of some newly arrived unfor- 
 tunate woman — to use a euphemism of that polite 
 society which my latest protegee had frequented. 
 The others were here, there, and everywhere, but 
 
184 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 generally with those souls who needed them most; 
 while the need of my prsent companion was more 
 real than urgent. If Lionel had been here, he 
 might have entertained her for a while. 
 
 I wished that I had cultivated the acquaintance 
 of some of those ladies who crochet and gossip 
 in this world as they crocheted and gossipped in 
 yours. Do not be shocked. Did you fancy that 
 a lifelong habit could be laid aside in a moment? 
 As women on earth dream often of their knitting, 
 so they do here. It is as easy to knit in this world 
 as it is to dream in yours. 
 
 Understand that the world in which I now live 
 is no more essentially sacred than is the world 
 in which you live, nor is it any more mysterious 
 to those who dwell in it. To the serious soul 
 all conditions are sacred — except those that are 
 profane, and both are found out here as well as 
 on the earth. 
 
 But to return to the lonely woman. I was still 
 wondering what I should do with her when, look- 
 ing up, I saw the Teacher approaching. He had 
 with him another woman, as like the first as 
 one empty china cup is like another empty china 
 cup. Then he and I went away and left the two 
 together. 
 
 "I did not know," I said to the Teacher, "that 
 
AN EMPTY CHINA CUP 1 85 
 
 you troubled yourself with any souls but those of 
 considerable development." 
 
 He smiled: 
 
 "It was your perplexity which I came to re- 
 lieve, not that of those poor ladies." 
 
 Then he began to talk to me about relative 
 values. 
 
 "In a sense," he said, "one soul is as much 
 worth helping as another; in a deeper sense, per- 
 haps it is not. Do not think that I am indifferent 
 to the sufferings of the weakest ones because I 
 give my time and attention to the strong. Like 
 the ministering angels, I go where I am most 
 needed. Only the strong ones can learn what I 
 have to teach. The weak ones are the charges 
 of the Messiahs and their followers. But, never- 
 theless, between us and the Messiahs there is 
 brotherhood and there is mutual understanding. 
 Each works in his own field. The Messiahs help 
 the many; we help the few. Their reward in love 
 is greater than ours ; but we do not work for re- 
 ward any more than they do. Each follows the 
 law of his being. 
 
 "To be loved by all men a teacher must be 
 known to all men, and we reveal ourselves only 
 to a few chosen ones. Why do we not go the way 
 of the Messiahs? Because the balance must be 
 
1 86 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 maintained. For every great worker in the sight 
 of men there is another worker out of sight. 
 Which kind of teacher is of greater value? The 
 question is out of order. The North and the 
 South are interdependent, and there are two poles 
 to every magnet." 
 
LETTER XXXVIII 
 
 WHERE TIME IS NOT 
 
 I THINK you now understand from what I 
 have said that not all the souls who have 
 passed the airy frontier are either in heaven or 
 hell. Few reach an extreme, and most live out 
 their allotted period here as they lived out their 
 allotted period on earth, without realising either 
 the possibilities or the significance of their con- 
 dition. 
 
 Wisdom is a tree of slow growth; the rings 
 around its trunk are earthly lives, and the grooves 
 between are the periods between the lives. Who 
 grieves that an acorn is slow in becoming an oak? 
 It is equally unphilosophical to feel that the truth 
 which I have endeavoured to make you under- 
 stand — the truth of the soul's great leisure — is 
 necessarily sad. If a man were to become an 
 archangel in a few years' time, he would suffer 
 terribly from growing-pains. The Law is im- 
 placable, but it often seems to be kind. 
 
 187 
 
1 88 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 Nevertheless there are many souls in heaven, 
 and there are many heavens, of which I have 
 seen a few. 
 
 But do not fancy that most people go from 
 place to place and from state to state as I do. 
 The things which I describe to you are not excep- 
 tional; but that one man should be able to see 
 and describe so many things is exceptional indeed. 
 I owe it largely to the Teacher. Without his 
 guidance I could not have acquired so rich an 
 experience. 
 
 Yes, there are many heavens. Last night I felt 
 the yearning for beauty which sometimes came 
 to me on earth. One of the strangest phenomena 
 of this ethereal world is the tremendous attrac- 
 tion by sympathy — the attraction of events, I 
 mean. Desire a thing intensely enough, and you 
 are on the way to it. A body of a feather's 
 weight moves swiftly when propelled by a free 
 will. 
 
 I felt a yearning for beauty, which is a syno- 
 nym for heaven. Did I really move from my 
 place, or did heaven come to me? I cannot say, 
 space means so little here. For every vale with- 
 out there is a vale within. We desire a place, 
 and we are there. Perhaps the Teacher could 
 give you a scientific explanation of this, but I can- 
 
WHERE TIME IS NOT 1 89 
 
 not at the moment. And then, I want to tell you 
 about that heaven where I was last night. It was 
 so beautiful that the charm of it is over me still. 
 
 I saw a double row of dark-topped trees, like 
 cypresses, and at the end of this long avenue down 
 which I passed was a softly diffused light. Some- 
 where I have read of a heaven lighted by a thou- 
 sand suns, but my heaven was not like that. The 
 light as I approached it was softer than moon- 
 light, though clearer. Perhaps the light of the 
 sun would shine as softly if seen through many 
 veils of alabaster. Yet this light seemed to come 
 from nowhere. It simply was. 
 
 As I approached I saw two beings walking 
 towards me, hand in hand. There was such a 
 look of happiness on their faces as one never sees 
 on the faces of earth. Only a spirit unconscious 
 of time could look like that. 
 
 I should say that these two were man and 
 woman, save that they seemed so different from 
 what you understand by man and woman. They 
 did not even look at each other as they walked; 
 the touch of the hand seemed to make them so 
 much one, that the realisation of the eye could 
 have added nothing to their content. Like the 
 light which came from nowhere, they simply were. 
 
 A little farther on I saw a group of bright- 
 
I90 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 robed children dancing among flowers. Hand in 
 hand in a ring they danced, and their garments, 
 which were like the petals of flowers, moved with 
 the rhythm of their dancing limbs. A great joy 
 filled my heart. They, too, were unconscious of 
 time, and might have been dancing there from 
 eternity, for all I knew. But whether their glad- 
 ness was of the moment or of the ages had no 
 significance for me or for them. Like the light, 
 and like the lovers who had passed me hand in 
 hand, they were, and that was enough. 
 
 I had left the avenue of cypresses and stood in 
 a wide plain, encircled by a forest of blossoming 
 trees. The odours of spring were on the air, and 
 birds sang. In the centre of the plain a great 
 circular fountain played with the waters, tossing 
 them in the air, whence they descended in feathery 
 spray. An atmosphere of inexpressible charm 
 was over everything. Here and there in this cir- 
 cular flower-scented heaven walked angelic beings, 
 many or most of whom must some time have been 
 human. Two by two they walked, or in groups, 
 smiling to themselves or at one another. 
 
 On earth you often use the word "peace" ; but 
 compared with the peace of that place the great- 
 est peace of earth is only turmoil. I realised 
 
WHERE TIME IS NOT I9I 
 
 that I was in one of the fairest heavens, but that 
 I was alone there. 
 
 No sooner had this thought of solitude found 
 lodgment in my heart than I saw standing be- 
 fore me the Beautiful Being about whom I 
 wrote you a little time ago. It smiled, and said to 
 me: 
 
 "He who is sadly conscious of his solitude is no 
 longer in heaven. So I have come to hold you 
 here yet a little while." 
 
 "Is this the particular heaven where you 
 dwell ?" I asked. 
 
 "Oh, I dwell nowhere and everywhere/ ' the 
 Beautiful Being answered. "I am one of the vol- 
 untary wanderers, who find the charm of home 
 in every heavenly or earthly place." 
 
 "So you sometimes visit earth?" 
 
 "Yes, even the remotest hells I go to, but I 
 never stay there long. My purpose is to know 
 all things, and yet to remain unattached." 
 
 "And do you love the earth?" 
 
 "The earth is one of my playgrounds. I sing 
 to the children of earth sometimes; and when I 
 sing to the poets, they believe that their muse is 
 with them. Here is a song which I sang one night 
 to a soul which dwells among men : 
 
192 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "My sister, I am often with you when you realise it not. 
 
 For me a poet soul is a well of water in whose deeps I 
 can see myself reflected. 
 
 I live in a glamour of light and colour, which you mortal 
 poets vainly try to express in magic words. 
 
 I am in the sunset and in the star; I watched the moon 
 grow old and you grow young. 
 
 In childhood you sought for me in the swiftly moving 
 cloud; in maturity you fancied you had caught me 
 in the gleam of a lover's eye; but I am the eluder 
 of men. 
 
 I beckon and I fly, and the touch of my feet does not 
 press down the heads of the blossoming daisies. 
 
 You can find me and lose me again, for mortal cannot 
 hold me. 
 
 I am nearest to those who seek beauty — whether in 
 thought or in form; I fly from those who seek to 
 imprison me. 
 
 You can come each day to the region where I dwell. 
 
 Sometimes you will meet me, sometimes not; for my will 
 is the wind's will, and I answer no beckoning fin- 
 ger: 
 
WHERE TIME IS NOT 193 
 
 But when I beckon, the souls come flying from the four 
 corners of heaven. 
 
 Your soul comes flying, too; for you are one of those I 
 have called by the spell of my magic. 
 
 I have use for you, and you have meaning for me; I like 
 to see your soul in its hours of dream and ecstasy. 
 
 Whenever one of my own dreams a dream of Paradise, 
 the light grows brighter for me, to whom all things 
 are bright. 
 
 Oh, forget not the charm of the moment, forget not the 
 lure of the mood ! 
 
 For the mood is wiser than all the magi of earth, and 
 the treasures of the moment are richer and rarer 
 than the hoarded wealth of the ages. 
 
 The moment is real, while the age is only a delusion, a 
 memory, and a shadow. 
 
 Be sure that each moment is all, and the moment is more 
 than time. 
 
 Time carries an hour-glass, and his step is slow; his hair 
 is white with the rime of years, and his scythe is 
 dull with unwearied mowing; 
 
194 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 But he never yet has caught the moment in its flight. 
 He has grown old in casting nets for it. 
 
 Ah, the magic of life and of the endless combination of 
 living things ! 
 
 I was young when the sun was formed, and I shall be 
 young when the moon falls dead in the arms of her 
 daughter the earth. 
 
 Will you not be young with me? The dust is as noth- 
 ing: the soul is all. 
 
 Like a crescent moon on the surface of a lake of water 
 is the moment of love's awakening; 
 
 Like a faded flower in the lap of the tired world is the 
 moment of love's death. 
 
 But there is love and Love, and the love of the light for 
 its radiance is the love of souls for each other. 
 
 There is no death where the inner light shines, irradiat- 
 ing the fields of the within — the beyond — the unat- 
 tainable attainment. 
 
 You know where to find me." 
 
LETTER XXXIX 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 
 
 MANY times during the months in which I 
 have been here have I seen men and 
 women lying in a state of unconsciousness more 
 profound than the deepest sleep, their faces ex- 
 pressionless and uninteresting. At first, before I 
 understood the nature of their sleep, I tried as 
 an experiment to awaken one or two of them, and 
 was not successful. In certain cases where my 
 curiosity was aroused, I have returned later, day 
 after day, and found them still lying in the same 
 lethargy. 
 
 "Why," I asked myself, "should any man sleep 
 like that — a sleep so deep that neither the spoken 
 word nor the physical touch could arouse him?" 
 
 One day when the Teacher was with me we 
 passed one of those unconscious men whom I had 
 seen before, had watched, and had striven unsuc- 
 cessfully to arouse. 
 
 i95 
 
I96 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "Who are these people who sleep like that?" 
 I asked the Teacher; and he replied: 
 
 "They are those who in their earth life denied 
 the immortality of the soul after death." 
 
 "How terrible!" I said. "And will they never 
 awaken?" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps centuries, perhaps ages hence, 
 when the irresistible law of rhythm shall draw 
 them out of their sleep into incarnation. For 
 the law of rebirth is one with the law of 
 rhythm." 
 
 "Would it not be possible to awaken one of 
 them, this man, for instance?" 
 
 "You have attempted it, have you not?" the 
 Teacher inquired, with a keen look into my face. 
 
 "Yes," I admitted. 
 
 "And you failed?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 We looked at each other for a moment, then 
 I said: 
 
 "Perhaps you, with your greater power and 
 knowledge, could succeed where I have failed." 
 
 He made no answer. His silence fired my inter- 
 est still farther, and I said eagerly: 
 
 "Will you not try? Will you not awaken this 
 man?" 
 
 "You know not what you ask," he replied. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 1 97 
 
 "But tell me this," I demanded: "could you 
 awaken him?" 
 
 "Perhaps. But in order to counteract the law 
 which holds him in sleep, the law of the spell he 
 laid upon his own soul when he went out of life 
 demanding unconsciousness and annihilation — in 
 order to counteract that law, I should have to put 
 in operation a law still stronger." 
 
 "And that is?" I asked. 
 
 "Will," he answered, "the potency of will." 
 
 "Could you?" 
 
 "As I said before — perhaps." 
 
 "And will you?" 
 
 "Again I say that you know not what you ask." 
 
 "Will you please explain?" I persisted, "for 
 indeed this seems to me to be one of the most 
 marvellous things which I have seen." 
 
 The face of the Teacher was very grave, as he 
 answered: 
 
 "What good has this man done in the past that 
 I should place myself between him and the law of 
 cause and effect which he has wilfully set in opera- 
 tion?" 
 
 "I do not know his past," I said. 
 
 "Then," the Teacher demanded, "will you tell 
 me your reason for asking me to do this thing?" 
 
 "My reason?" 
 
I98 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "Yes. Is it pity for this man's unfortunate con- 
 dition, or is it scientific curiosity on your part?" 
 
 I should gladly have been able to say that it was 
 pity for the man's sad state which moved me so; 
 but one does not juggle with truth or with motives 
 when speaking to such a Teacher, so I admitted 
 that it was scientific curiosity. 
 
 "In that case," he said, "I am justified in using 
 him as a demonstration of the power of the 
 trained will." 
 
 "It will not harm him, will it?" 
 
 "On the contrary. And though he may suffer 
 shock, it will probably be the means of so impress- 
 ing his mind that never again, even in future lives 
 on earth, can he believe himself, or teach others 
 to believe, that death ends everything. As far as 
 he is concerned, he does not deserve that I should 
 waste upon him so great an amount of energy as 
 will be necessary to arouse him from this sleep, 
 this spell which he laid upon himself ages ago. 
 But if I awaken him, it will be for your sake, 'that 
 you may believe.' " 
 
 I wish I could describe the scene which took 
 place, so that you could see it with the eyes of 
 your imagination. There lay the man at our feet, 
 his face colourless and expressionless, and above 
 him towered the splendid form of the Teacher, 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 1 99 
 
 his face beautiful with power, his eyes brilliant 
 with thought. 
 
 "Can you not see," asked the Teacher, "a faint 
 light surrounding this seemingly lifeless figure ?" 
 
 u Yes, but the light is very faint indeed." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said the Teacher, "that light 
 is far less faint than is this weak soul's hold upon 
 the eternal truth. But where you see only a pale 
 light around the recumbent form, I see in that 
 light many pictures of the soul's past. I see that 
 he not only denied the immortality of the soul's 
 consciousness, but that he taught his doctrine of 
 death to other men and made them even as him- 
 self. Truly he does not deserve that I should try 
 to awaken him!" 
 
 "Yety 'will do it?" 
 
 "Yes, I will do it." 
 
 I regret that I am not permitted to tell you by 
 what form of words and by what acts my Teacher 
 succeeded, after a mighty effort, in arousing that 
 man from his self-imposed imitation of annihila- 
 tion. I realised as never before — not only the 
 personal power of the Teacher, but the irresistible 
 power of a trained and directed will. 
 
 I thought of that scene recorded in the New 
 Testament, where Jesus said to the dead man in 
 the tomb, "Lazarus, come forth!" 
 
200 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "The soul of man is immortal," declared the 
 Teacher, looking fixedly into the shrinking eyes 
 of the awakened man and holding them by his 
 will. 
 
 "The soul of man is immortal," he repeated. 
 Then in a tone of command: 
 
 "Stand up!" 
 
 The man struggled to his feet. Though his 
 body was light as a feather, as are all our bodies 
 here, I could see that his slumbering energy was 
 still almost too dormant to permit of that really 
 slight exertion. 
 
 "You live," declared the Teacher. "You have 
 passed through death, and you live. Do not dare 
 to deny that you live. You cannot deny it." 
 
 "But I do not believe " began the man, his 
 
 stubborn materialism still challenging the truth of 
 his own existence, his memory surviving the or- 
 deal through which he had passed. This last sur- 
 prised me more than anything else. But after a 
 moment's stupefaction I understood that it was 
 the power of the Teacher's mental picture of the 
 astral records round this soul which had forced 
 those memories to awaken. 
 
 "Sit down between us two," said the Teacher 
 to the newly aroused man, "and let us reason to- 
 gether. You thought yourself a great reasoner, 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 201 
 
 did you not, when you walked the earth as So-and- 
 so?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "You see that you were mistaken in your 
 reasoning," the Teacher went on, "for you cer- 
 tainly passed through death, and you are now 
 alive." 
 
 "But where am I?" He looked about him in a 
 bewildered way. "Where am I, and who are 
 you?" 
 
 "You are in eternity," replied the Teacher, 
 "where you always have been and always will be." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "I am one who knows the workings of the 
 Law." 
 
 "What law?" 
 
 "The law of rhythm, which drives the soul into 
 and out of gross matter, as it drives the tides of 
 the ocean into flood and ebb., and the conscious- 
 ness of man into sleeping and waking." 
 
 "And it was you who awakened me? Are you, 
 then, this law of rhythm?" 
 
 The Teacher smiled. 
 
 "I am not the law," he said, "but I am bound 
 by it, even as you, save as I am temporarily able 
 to transcend it by my will — again, even as you." 
 
 I caught my breath at the profundity of this 
 
202 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 simple answer, but the man seemed not to observe 
 its significance. Even as he ! Why, this man by 
 his misdirected will had been able temporarily to 
 transcend the law of immortality, even as the 
 Teacher by his wisely directed will transcended 
 the mortal in himself! My soul sang within me 
 at this glimpse of the godlike possibilities of the 
 human mind. 
 
 "How long have I been asleep?" demanded 
 the man. 
 
 "In what year did you die?" the Teacher asked. 
 
 "In the year 1817." 
 
 "And the present year is known, according to 
 the Christian calendar, as the year 191 2. You 
 have lain in a death-like sleep for ninety-five 
 years." 
 
 "And was it really you who awakened me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why did you do it?" 
 
 "Because it suited my good pleasure," was the 
 Teacher's rather stern reply. "It was not because 
 you deserved to be awakened." 
 
 "And how long would I have slept if you had 
 not aroused me?" 
 
 "I cannot say. Probably until those who had 
 started even with you had left you far behind on 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 203 
 
 the road of evolving life. Perhaps for centuries, 
 perhaps for ages." 
 
 "You have taken a responsibility upon your- 
 self," said the man. 
 
 "You do not need to remind me of that," re- 
 plied the Teacher. "I weighed in my own mind 
 the full responsibility and decided to assume it 
 for a purpose of my own. For will is free." 
 
 "Yet you overpowered my will." 
 
 "I did; but by my own more potent will, more 
 potent because wisely directed and backed by a 
 greater energy." 
 
 "And what are you going to do with me?" 
 
 "I am going to assume the responsibility of 
 your training." 
 
 "My training?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you will make things easy for me?" 
 
 "On the contrary, I shall make things very hard 
 for you; but you cannot escape my teaching." 
 
 "Shall you instruct me personally?" 
 
 "Personally in the sense that I shall place you 
 under the instruction of an advanced pupil of my 
 own." 
 
 "Who? This man here?" He pointed to me. 
 
 "No. He is better occupied. I will take you 
 to your teacher presently." 
 
204 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "And what will he show me?" 
 
 "The panorama of immortality. And when 
 you have learned the lesson so that you can never 
 forget nor escape it, you will have to go back to 
 the earth and teach it to others ; you will have to 
 convert as many men to the truth of immortality 
 as you have in the past deluded and misled by 
 your false doctrines of materialism and death." 
 
 "And what if I refuse? You have said that 
 will is free." 
 
 "Do you refuse?" 
 
 "No, but what if I had?" 
 
 "Then, instead of growing and developing 
 under the law of action and reaction, which in 
 the East they call karma, you would have been 
 
 its victim." 
 
 "I do not understand you." 
 
 "He is indeed a wise man," said the Teacher, 
 "who understands the law of karma, which is 
 also the law of cause and effect. But come. I 
 will now take you to your new instructor." 
 
 Then, leaving me alone, the Teacher and his 
 charge disappeared in the grey distance. 
 
 I remained there a long time, pondering what I 
 had seen and heard. 
 
LETTER XL 
 
 THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY 
 
 1AM about to say something which may shock 
 certain persons; but those who are too fond 
 of their own ideas, without being willing to grant 
 others their ideas in turn, should not seek to open 
 the jealously guarded doors which separate the 
 land of the so-called living from the land of the 
 certainly not dead. 
 
 This is the statement which I have to make: 
 that there are many gods, and that the One God 
 is the sum-total of all of them. All gods exist 
 in God. Do what you like with that statement, 
 dear world, for truth is more vital than any- 
 body's dream, even yours or mine. 
 
 Have I seen God? I have seen Him who has 
 been called the Son of God, and you may remem- 
 ber that He said that whoever had seen the Son 
 had seen the Father. 
 
 But what of the other gods? you ask; for 
 there are many in the world's pantheons. Well, 
 the realities exist out here. 
 
 205 
 
206 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 What! you say again, can man create the gods 
 of his imagination and give them a place in the 
 invisible ? No. They existed here first, and man 
 became aware of them long ago through his own 
 psychic and spiritual perception of them. Man 
 did not create them, and the materialists who 
 say that he did know little of the laws of being. 
 Man, primitive man, perceived them through his 
 own spiritual affinities with and nearness to them. 
 
 When you have read folk-tales of this god and 
 that, you have perhaps spoken patronisingly of 
 the old myth-makers and thanked your lucky stars 
 that you lived in a more enlightened age. But 
 those old story-tellers were the really enlightened 
 ones, for they saw into the other world and re- 
 corded what they saw. 
 
 Many of the world's favourite gods are said 
 to have lived upon the earth as men. They have 
 so lived. Does that idea startle you? 
 
 How does a man become a god, and how does 
 a god become a man? Have you ever wondered? 
 A man becomes a god by developing god-con- 
 sciousness, which is not the same as developing 
 his own thought about God. During recent years 
 you have heard and read much of so-called Mas- 
 ters, men of superhuman attainments, who have 
 forgone the small pleasures and recognitions 
 
THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY 207 
 
 of the world in order to achieve something 
 greater. 
 
 Man's ideas of the gods change as the gods 
 themselves change, for "everything is becoming, ,, 
 as Heraclitus said about twenty-four centuries 
 ago. Did you fancy that the gods stood still, 
 and that only you progressed? In that case you 
 might some day outstrip your god, and fall to 
 worshipping yourself, having nothing to look up 
 to as superior. 
 
 Accompanied by the Teacher, I have stood face 
 to face with some of the older gods. Had I come 
 out here with a superior contempt for all gods 
 save my own, I should hardly have been granted 
 that privilege; for the gods are as exclusive as 
 they are inclusive, and they only reveal themselves 
 to those who can see them as they are. 
 
 Does this open the door to polytheism, pan- 
 theism, or other dreaded isms? An ism is only 
 a word. Facts are. The day is past when men 
 were burned at the stake for having had a vision 
 of the wrong god. But even now I would hesi- 
 tate to tell all that I have learned about the gods, 
 though I can tell you much. 
 
 Take, for instance, the god whom the Romans 
 called Neptune. Did you fancy that he was only 
 a poetic creation of the old myth-makers? He 
 
208 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 was something more than that. He was supposed 
 to rule the ocean. Now, what could be more 
 orderly and inevitable than that the work of con- 
 trolling the elements and the floods should be as- 
 sumed by, and the work parcelled out among, 
 those able to perform it? We hear much of the 
 laws of Nature. Who enforces them? The 
 term "natural law" is in every man's mouth, but 
 the Law has executors in heaven as on earth. 
 
 I have been told that there are also planetary 
 beings, planetary gods, though I have never had 
 the honour of conscious communion with one of 
 them. If a planetary being is so far beyond the 
 daring of my approach, how should I comport 
 myself in approaching the God of gods? 
 
 paradoxical mind of man, which stands in 
 awe and trembling before the servant, yet ap- 
 proaches the master without fear! 
 
 1 have been told that the guardian spirit of 
 this planet Earth evolved himself into a god of 
 tremendous power and responsibility in bygone 
 cycles of existence. To him who has ever used 
 a microscope the idea need not be appalling. The 
 infinitely small and the infinitely great are the 
 tail and the head of the Eternal Serpent. 
 
 Who do you fancy will be the gods of the fu- 
 ture cycles of existence? Will they not be those 
 
THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY 200. 
 
 who in this cycle of planetary life have raised 
 themselves above the mortal? Will they not be 
 the strongest and most sublime among the pres- 
 ent spirits of men? Even the gods must have 
 their resting period, and those in office now would 
 doubtless wish to be supplanted. 
 
 To those men who are ambitious for growth, 
 the doors of development are always open. 
 
LETTER XLI 
 
 THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 
 
 1HAVE written you before of one whom I 
 call the Beautiful Being, one whose province 
 seems to be the universe, whose chosen com- 
 panions are all men and angelkind, whose play- 
 things are days and ages. 
 
 For some reason, the Beautiful Being has lately 
 been so gracious as to take an interest in my ef- 
 forts to acquire knowledge, and has shown me 
 many things which otherwise I should never have 
 seen. 
 
 When a tour of the planet is personally con- 
 ducted by an angel, the traveller is specially fa- 
 voured. Letters of introduction to the great and 
 powerful of earth are nothing compared with this 
 introduction, for by its means I see into the souls 
 of all beings, and my visits to their houses are 
 not limited to the drawing-rooms. The Beautiful 
 Being has access everywhere. 
 
 210 
 
THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 211 
 
 Did you ever fancy when you had had a lovely 
 dream that maybe an angel had kissed you in 
 your sleep? I have seen such things. 
 
 Oh, do not be afraid of giving rein to your 
 imagination! It is the wonderful things which 
 are really true ; the commonplace things are nearly 
 all false. When a great thought lifts you by the 
 hair, do not cling hold of the solid earth. Let 
 go. He whom an inspiration seizes might even 
 — if he dared to trust his vision — behold the 
 Beautiful Being face to face, as I have. When 
 flying through the air one's sight is keen. If 
 one goes fast and high enough, one may behold 
 the inconceivable. 
 
 The other night I was meditating on a flower- 
 seed, for there is nothing so small that it may 
 not contain a world. I was meditating on a 
 flower-seed, and amusing myself by tracing its 
 history, generation by generation, back to the 
 dawn of time. I smile as I use that figure, "the 
 dawn of time," for time has had so many dawns 
 and so many sunsets, and still it is unwearied. 
 
 I had traced the genealogy of the seed back 
 to the time when the cave-man forgot his fight- 
 ing in the strangely disturbing pleasure of smelling 
 the fragrance of its parent flower, when I heard 
 a low musical laugh in my left ear, and something 
 
212 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 as light as a butterfly's wing brushed my cheek 
 on that side. 
 
 I turned to look, and, quick as a flash, I heard 
 the laughter in the other ear, while another but- 
 terfly touch came on my right cheek. Then some- 
 thing like a veil was blown across my eyes, and 
 a clear voice said: 
 
 "Guess who it is!" 
 
 I was all a-thrill with the pleasure of this di- 
 vine play, and I answered: 
 
 "Perhaps you are the fairy that makes blind 
 children dream of daisy fields." 
 
 "However did you know me?" laughed the 
 Beautiful Being, unwinding the veil from my eyes. 
 "I am indeed that fairy. But you must have 
 been peeping through cracks in the door when I 
 touched the eyes of the blind babies." 
 
 "I am always peeping through cracks in the 
 door of the earth people's chamber," I replied. 
 
 The Beautiful Being laughed again: 
 
 "Will you come and have another peep with 
 me this evening?" 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 "You could not do it with pain if I were by," 
 was the response. 
 
 And we started then and there upon the strang- 
 est evening's round which I have ever made. 
 
THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 213 
 
 We began by going to the house of a friend of 
 mine and standing quietly in the room where he 
 and his family were at supper. No one saw us 
 but the cat, which began a loud purring and 
 stretched itself with joy at our presence. Had I 
 gone there alone, the cat might have been afraid 
 of me; but who — even a cat — could fear the 
 Beautiful Being? 
 
 Suddenly one of the children — the youngest 
 one — looked up from his supper of bread and 
 milk, and said: 
 
 "Father, why does milk taste good?" 
 
 "I really do not know," admitted the author 
 of his being, "perhaps because the cow enjoyed 
 giving it." 
 
 "That father might have been a poet," the 
 Beautiful Being said to me; but no one overheard 
 the remark. 
 
 One of the other children complained of feel- 
 ing sleepy, and put his head down on the edge 
 of the table. The mother started to arouse him, 
 but the Beautiful Being fluttered a mystifying veil 
 before her eyes, and she could not do it. 
 
 "Let him sleep if he wants to," she said. "I 
 will put him to bed by and by." 
 
 I could see in the brain of the child that he 
 
214 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 was dreaming already, and I knew that the Beau- 
 tiful Being was weaving a fairy-tale on the web 
 of his mind. After only a moment he started up, 
 wide awake. 
 
 "I dreamed," he said, "that [the writer 
 
 of these letters] was standing over there and 
 smiling at me as he used to smile, and with him 
 was an angel. I never saw an angel before." 
 
 "Come away," whispered the Beautiful Being 
 to me. "From dreaming children nothing can be 
 hidden." 
 
 We then paid a visit to the future mother of 
 my boy Lionel. Oh, mystery of maternity ! The 
 eyes of the Beautiful Being were like stars as we 
 gazed upon this other flower-seed, whose geneal- 
 ogy goes even beyond the days of the cave-man 
 — aye, back to the time of the fire-mist and the 
 sons of the morning stars. 
 
 "Come away!" said the Beautiful Being again. 
 "To brides who dream of motherhood much also 
 is revealed, and for this evening we remain un- 
 known." 
 
 We passed along the margin of a river which 
 divides a busy town. Suddenly from a house by 
 the river-bank we heard the tinkle of a guitar and 
 a woman's sweet voice singing: 
 
THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 2I£ 
 
 'When other lips and other hearts 
 
 Their tale of love shall tell, . . . 
 
 Then you'll remember — you'll remember me." 
 
 The Beautiful Being touched my hand and 
 whispered: 
 
 "The life that is so sweet to these mortals is 
 a book of enchantment for me." 
 
 "Yet you have never tasted human life your- 
 self ?" 
 
 "On the contrary, I taste it every day; but I 
 only taste it — and pass on. Should I consume it, 
 I might not be able to pass on." 
 
 "But do you never long so to consume it?" 
 
 "Oh, but the thrill is in the taste! Digestion 
 is a more or less tiresome process." 
 
 "I fear you are a divine wanton," I said, af- 
 fectionately. 
 
 "Be careful," answered the Beautiful Being. 
 "He who fears anything will lose me in the fog 
 of his own fears." 
 
 "You irresistible one!" I cried. "Who are 
 you? What are you?" 
 
 "Did you not say yourself a little while ago 
 that I was the fairy who made blind babies dream 
 of daisy fields?" 
 
2l6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "I love you," I said, "with an incomprehensi- 
 ble love." 
 
 "All love is incomprehensible," the Beautiful 
 Being answered. "But come, brother, let us climb 
 the hill of vision. When you are out of breath, 
 if you catch at my flying veil I will wait till you 
 are rested." 
 
 Strange things we saw that night. I should 
 weary you if I told you all of them. 
 
 We stood on the crater of an active volcano 
 and watched the dance of the fire-spirits. Did you 
 fancy that salamanders were only seen by unab- 
 stemious poets? They are as real — to themselves 
 and to those who see them — as are the omnibus- 
 drivers in the streets of London. 
 
 The real and the unreal! If I were writing 
 an essay now, instead of the narrative of a travel- 
 ler in a strange country, I should have much to 
 say on the subject of the real and the unreal. 
 
 The Beautiful Being has changed my ideas 
 about the whole universe. I wonder if, when I 
 come back to the earth again, I shall remember 
 all the marvels I have seen. Perhaps, like most 
 people, I shall have forgotten the details of my 
 life before birth, and shall bring with me only 
 vague yearnings after the inexpressible, and the 
 deep unalterable conviction that there are more 
 
THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 217 
 
 things in earth and heaven than are dreamed of 
 in the philosophy of the world's people. Per- 
 haps if I almost remember, but not quite, I shall 
 be a poet in my next life. Worse things might 
 happen to me. 
 
 What an adventure it is, this launching of one's 
 barque upon the sea of rebirth! 
 
 But by my digressions one would say that I 
 was in my second childhood. So I am — my sec- 
 ond childhood in the so-called invisible. 
 
 When, on my voyage that night with the Beauti- 
 ful Being, 1 had feasted my eyes upon beauty until 
 they were weary, my companion led me to scenes 
 on the earth which, had I beheld them alone, 
 would have made me very sad. But no one can 
 be sad when the Beautiful Being is near. That 
 is the charm of that marvellous entity: to be in 
 its presence is to taste the joys of immortal life. 
 
 We looked on at a midnight revel in what you 
 on earth would call "a haunt of vice." Was I 
 shocked and horrified? Not at all. I watched 
 the antics of those human animalculae as a scien- 
 tist might watch the motions of the smaller liv- 
 ing creatures in a drop of water. It seemed to 
 me that I saw it all from the viewpoint of the 
 stars. I started to say from the viewpoint of 
 God, to whom small and great are the same ; but 
 
21 8 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 perhaps the stellar simile is the truer one, for 
 how can we judge of what God sees — unless we 
 mean the god in us ? 
 
 You who read what I have written, perhaps 
 when you come out here you will have many sur- 
 prises. The small things may seem larger and 
 the large things smaller, and everything may take 
 its proper place in the infinite plan, of which even 
 your troubles and perplexities are parts, inevi- 
 table and beautiful. 
 
 That idea came to me as I wandered from 
 heaven to earth, from beauty to ugliness, with 
 my angelic companion. 
 
 I wish I could explain the influence of the Beau- 
 tiful Being. It is unlike anything else in the uni- 
 verse. It is elusive as a moonbeam, yet more 
 sympathetic than a mother. It is daintier than a 
 rose, yet it looks upon ugly things with a smile. 
 It is purer than the breath of the sea, yet it seems 
 to have no horror of impurity. It is artless as a 
 child, yet wiser than the ancient gods, a marvel 
 of paradoxes, a celestial vagabond, the darling of 
 the unseen. 
 
LETTER XLII 
 
 A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 
 
 THE other day I met an acquaintance, a 
 woman whom I had known for a number 
 of years, and who came out about the time I did. 
 
 Old acquaintances when they meet here greet 
 each other about as they did on earth. Though 
 we are, as a rule, less conventional than you, still 
 we cling more or less to our former habits. 
 
 I asked Mrs. how she was enjoying her- 
 self, and she said that she was not having a very 
 pleasant time. She found that everybody was 
 interested in something else, and did not want to 
 talk with her. 
 
 This was the first time I had met with such a 
 complaint, and I was struck by its peculiarity. I 
 asked her to what cause she attributed this unso- 
 ciability, and she replied that she did not know 
 the cause, that it had puzzled her. 
 
 "What do you talk to them about ?" I asked. 
 219 
 
220 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "Why, I tell them my troubles, as one friend 
 tells another; but they do not seem to be inter- 
 ested. How selfish people are!" 
 
 Poor soul ! She did not realise here, any more 
 than she had on earth, that our troubles are not 
 interesting to anybody but ourselves. 
 
 "Suppose," I said, "that you unburden your- 
 self to me. Tell me your troubles. I will prom- 
 ise not to run away." 
 
 "Why, I hardly know where to begin!" she 
 answered. "I have found so many unpleasant 
 things." 
 
 "What, for instance?" 
 
 "Why, horrid people. I remember that when 
 
 I lived in I sometimes told myself that in 
 
 the other world I would not be bothered with 
 boarding-house landladies and their careless hired 
 girls ; but they are just as bad here — even worse." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that you live in a 
 boarding-house here?" 
 
 "Where should I live? You know that I am 
 not rich." 
 
 Of all the astonishing things I had heard in 
 this land of changes, this was the most astonish- 
 ing. A boarding-house in the "invisible" world! 
 Surely, I told myself, my observations had been 
 limited. Here was a new discovery. 
 
A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 221 
 
 "Is the table good in your boarding-house ?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "No, it is worse than at the last one." 
 
 "Are the meals scanty?" 
 
 "Yes, scanty and bad, especially the coffee." 
 
 "Will you tell me," I said, my wonder grow- 
 ing, "if you really eat three meals a day here, as 
 you used to do on earth?" 
 
 "How strangely you talk!" she answered, in 
 a sharp tone. "I don't find very much difference 
 between this place and the earth, as you call it, 
 except that I am more uncomfortable here, be- 
 cause everything is so flighty and uncertain." 
 
 "Yes, go on." 
 
 "I never know in the morning who will be sit- 
 ting next me in the evening. They come and go." 
 
 "And what do you eat?" 
 
 "The same old things — meat and potatoes, and 
 pies and puddings." 
 
 "And you still eat these things?" 
 
 "Why, yes; don't you?" 
 
 I hardly knew how to reply. Had I told her 
 what my life here really was, she would no more 
 have understood than she would have understood 
 two years ago, when we lived in the same city on 
 earth, had I told her then what my real mental 
 life was. So I said: 
 
222 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "I have not much appetite." 
 
 She looked at me as if she distrusted me in 
 some way, though why I could not say. 
 
 "Are you still interested in philosophy?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps that is why I don't get hungry 
 very often." 
 
 "You were always a strange man." 
 
 "I suppose so. But tell me, Mrs. , do you 
 
 never feel a desire to leave all this behind?" 
 
 "To leave all what behind?" 
 
 "Why, boarding-houses and uncongenial peo- 
 ple, and meat and potatoes, and pies and pud- 
 dings, and the shadows of material things in gen- 
 eral." 
 
 "What do you mean by 'the shadows of ma- 
 terial things' ?" 
 
 "I mean that these viands and pastries, which 
 you eat and do not enjoy, are not real. They 
 have no real existence." 
 
 "Why!" she exclaimed, "have you become a 
 Christian Scientist?" 
 
 At this I laughed heartily. Was one who de- 
 nied the reality of astral food in the astral world 
 a Christian Scientist, because the Christian Sci- 
 entists denied the reality of material food in the 
 material world? The analogy tickled my fancy. 
 
A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 223 
 
 "Let me convert you to Christian Science, 
 then," I said. 
 
 "No, sir!" was her sharp response. "You 
 never succeeded in convincing me that there was 
 any truth in your various fads and philosophies. 
 And now you tell me that the food I eat is not 
 real." 
 
 I puzzled for a moment, trying to find a way 
 by which the actual facts of her condition could 
 be brought home to the mind of this poor woman. 
 Finally I hit upon the right track. 
 
 "Do you realise," I said, "that you are only 
 dreaming?" 
 
 "What!" she snapped at me. 
 
 "Yes, you are dreaming. All this is a dream — 
 these boarding-houses, et cetera!* 
 
 "If that is so, perhaps you would like to wake 
 me up." 
 
 "I certainly should. But you will have to 
 awaken yourself, I fancy. Tell me, what were 
 your ideas about the future life, before you came 
 out here?" 
 
 "What do you mean by out here?" 
 
 "Why, before you died!" 
 
 "But, man, I am not dead!" 
 
 "Of course you are not dead. Nobody is dead. 
 
224 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 But you certainly understand that you have 
 changed your condition." 
 
 "Yes, I have noticed a change, and a change 
 for the worse." 
 
 "Don't you remember your last illness ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And that you passed out?" 
 
 "Yes, if you call it that." 
 
 "You know that you have left your body?" 
 
 She looked down at her form, which appeared 
 as usual, even to its rusty black dress rather out 
 of date. 
 
 "But I still have my body," she said. 
 
 "Then you have not missed the other one?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "And you don't know where it is?" 
 
 My amazement was growing deeper and 
 deeper. Here was a phenomenon I had not met 
 before. 
 
 "I suppose," she said, "that they must have 
 buried my body, if you say I left it; but this one 
 is just the same to me." 
 
 "Has it always seemed the same?" I asked, 
 remembering my own experiences when I first 
 came out, my difficulty in adjusting the amount 
 of energy I used to the lightness of my new body. 
 
 "Now you mention it," she said, "I do recall 
 
A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 225 
 
 having some trouble a year or two ago. I was 
 quite confused for a long time. I think I must 
 have been delirious." 
 
 "Yes, doubtless you were/' I answered. "But 
 
 tell me, Mrs. , have you no desire to visit 
 
 heaven?" 
 
 "Why, I always supposed that I should visit 
 heaven when I died; but, as you see, I am not 
 dead." 
 
 "Still," I said, "I can take you to heaven now, 
 perhaps, if you would like to go." 
 
 "Are you joking?" 
 
 "Not at all. Will you come?" 
 
 "Are you certain that I can go there without 
 dying?" 
 
 "But I assure you there are no dead!* 
 
 As we went slowly along, for I thought it best 
 not to hurry her too swiftly from one condition 
 to another, I drew a word-picture of the place 
 we were about to visit — the orthodox Christian 
 heaven. I described the happy and loving people 
 who stood in the presence of their Saviour, in 
 the soft radiance from the central Light. 
 
 "Perhaps," I said, "some dwellers in that coun- 
 try see the face of God Himself, as they expected 
 to see it when they were on earth; as for myself, 
 
226 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 I saw only the Light, and afterwards the figure 
 of the Christ." 
 
 "I have often wished to see Christ," said my 
 companion in an awe-struck voice. "Do you think 
 that I can really see Him?" 
 
 "I think so, if you believe strongly that you 
 will." 
 
 "And what were they doing in heaven when 
 you were there?" she asked. 
 
 "They were worshipping God, and they were 
 happy." 
 
 "I want to be happy," she said; "I have never 
 been very happy." 
 
 "The great thing in heaven," I advised, "is 
 to love all the others. That is what makes them 
 happy. If they loved the face of God only, it 
 would not be quite heaven; for the joy of God 
 is the joy of union." 
 
 Thus, by subtle stages, I led her mind away 
 from astral boarding-houses to the ideas of the 
 orthodox spiritual world, which was probably the 
 only spiritual world which she could understand. 
 
 I spoke of the music — yes, church music, if you 
 like to call it that. I created in her wandering 
 and chaotic mind a fixed desire for sabbath joys 
 and sabbath peace, and the communion of friends 
 in heaven. But for this gradual preparation she 
 
A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 22^ 
 
 could not have adjusted herself to the conditions 
 of that world. 
 
 When we stood in the presence of those who 
 worship God with song and praise, she seemed 
 caught up on a wave of enthusiasm, to feel that 
 at last she had come home. 
 
 I wanted to take leave of her in such a way 
 that she would not come out again to look for me; 
 so I held out my hand in the old way and said 
 good-bye, promising to come again and visit her 
 there, and advising her to stay where she was. 
 I think she will. Heaven has a strong hold on 
 those who yield themselves to its beauty. 
 
LETTER XLIII 
 
 A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 
 
 ARE you surprised to learn that there is even 
 a greater difference between the beings in 
 this world than between the people of earth? 
 That is inevitable, for this is a freer world than 
 yours. 
 
 I should fail in my duty if I did not tell you 
 something of the evil beings out here; perhaps 
 no one else will ever tell you, and the knowledge 
 is necessary to self-protection. 
 
 First I want to say that there is a strong sym- 
 pathy between the spirits in this world and the 
 spirits in your world. Yes, they are both spirits, 
 the difference being mainly a difference in gar- 
 ments, one wearing flesh and the other wearing 
 a subtler but none the less real body. 
 
 Now the good spirits, which may be "the spirits 
 of just men made perfect," or those who merely 
 aspire to perfection, are powerfully drawn to 
 those fellow-spirits on earth whose ideals are in 
 
 228 
 
A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 229 
 
 harmony with their own. The magnetic attrac- 
 tion which exists between human beings is weak 
 compared with that which is possible between 
 beings embodied and beings disembodied. As op- 
 posites attract, the very difference in matter is a 
 drawing force. The female is not more attrac- 
 tive to the male than the being of flesh is attrac- 
 tive to the being in the astral. The two do not 
 usually understand each other, neither do man 
 and woman. But the influence is felt, and beings 
 out here understand its source better than you 
 do, because they generally carry with them the 
 memory of your world, while you have lost the 
 memory of theirs. 
 
 At no time is the sympathetic power between 
 men and spirits so strong as when men are la- 
 bouring under some intense emotion, be it love or 
 hate, or anger, or any other excitement. For 
 then the fiery element in man is most active, and 
 spirits are attracted by fire. 
 
 (Here the writing suddenly stopped, the influ- 
 ence passed, to return after a few minutes.) 
 
 You wonder why I went away? It was in or- 
 der to draw a wide protective circle around us 
 both, for what I have to say to you is something 
 
23O LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 which certain spirits would wish me to leave un- 
 said. 
 
 To continue. When man is excited, exalted, 
 or in any way intensified in his emotional life, 
 the spirits draw near to him. That is how con- 
 ception is possible; that is the secret of inspira- 
 tion; that is why anger grows with what it feeds 
 upon. 
 
 And this last is the point which I want to drive 
 home to your consciousness. When you lose 
 your temper you lose a great deal, among other 
 things the control of yourself, and it is barely 
 possible that another entity may momentarily as- 
 sume control of you. 
 
 This subjective world, as I have called it, is 
 full of hateful spirits. They love to stir up strife, 
 both here and on earth. They enjoy the excite- 
 ment of anger in others, they are thrilled by the 
 poison of hatred; as certain men revel in mor- 
 phine, so they revel in all inharmonious passion. 
 
 Do you see the point and the danger? A small 
 seed of anger in your heart they feed and in- 
 flame by the hatred in their own. It is not neces- 
 sarily hatred of you as an individual, often they 
 have no personal interest in you ; but for the pur- 
 pose of gratifying their evil passion they will at- 
 
A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 23 1 
 
 tach themselves to you temporarily. Other illus- 
 trations are not far to seek. 
 
 A man who has the habit of anger, even of 
 fault-finding, is certain to be surrounded by evil 
 spirits. I have seen a score of them around a 
 man, thrilling him with their own malignant mag- 
 netism, stirring him up again when by reaction 
 he would have cooled down. 
 
 Sometimes the impersonal interest in mere 
 strife becomes personal; an angry spirit here may 
 find that by attaching himself to a certain man 
 he is sure to get every day a thrill or thrills of 
 angry excitement, as his victim continually loses 
 his temper and storms and rages. This is one 
 of the most terrible misfortunes which can hap- 
 pen to anybody. Carried to its ultimate, it may 
 become obsession, and end in insanity. 
 
 The same law applies to other unlovely pas- 
 sions, those of lust and avarice. Beware of lust, 
 beware of all sex attraction into which no spiritual 
 or heart element enters. I have seen things that 
 I would not wish to record, either through your 
 hand or any other. 
 
 Let us take instead a case of avarice. I have 
 seen a miser counting over his gold, have seen 
 the terrible eyes of the spirits which enjoyed the 
 gold through him. For gold has a peculiar in- 
 
232 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 fluence as a metal, apart from its purchasing 
 power or the associations attached to it. Certain 
 spirits love gold, even as the miser loves it, and 
 with the same acquisitive, astringent passion. 
 As it is one of the heaviest of metals, so its power 
 is a condensed and condensing power. 
 
 I do not mean by this that you should beware 
 of gold. Get all you can use, for it is useful; 
 but do not gloat over it. One does not attract 
 the avaricious spirits merely by owning the sym- 
 bols of wealth — houses and lands and stocks and 
 bonds, or even a moderate amount of coin; but 
 I advise you not to hoard coins to gloat over. 
 
 There are certain jewels, however, whose pos- 
 session will aid you, for they attract the spirits 
 of power. But you will probably choose your 
 jewels by reason of your affinity with them, and 
 may choose wisely. 
 
 Now that I have done my duty by warning you 
 against the passions and the passionate spirits of 
 which you should beware, I can go on to speak 
 of other feelings and of other spiritual associates 
 of man. 
 
 You have met persons who seemed to radiate 
 sunshine, whose very presence in a room made 
 you happier. Have you asked yourself why? The 
 true answer would be that by their lovely dispo- 
 
A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 233 
 
 sition they attracted round them a "cloud of wit- 
 nesses" as to the joy and the beauty of life. 
 
 I have myself often basked in the warm rays 
 of a certain loving heart I know upon the earth. 
 I have heard spirits say to one another as they 
 crowded round that person, "It is good to be 
 here." Do you think that any evil thing could 
 happen to him? A score of loving and sympa- 
 thetic spirits would strive to give him warning 
 should any evil threaten. 
 
 Then, too, a joyous heart attracts joyous 
 events. 
 
 Simplicity, also, and sweet humility, are very 
 attractive to gentle disembodied souls. "Except 
 ye be as little children, ye cannot enter in." 
 
 Have you not often seen a child enjoying him- 
 self with unseen playfellows? You would call 
 them imaginary playfellows. Perhaps they were, 
 perhaps they were not imaginary. To imagine 
 may be to create, or it may be to attract things 
 already created. 
 
 I have seen the Beautiful Being itself, more 
 than once, hovering in ecstasy above an earthly 
 creature who was happy. 
 
 A song of joy, when it comes from a thrilling 
 heart, may attract a host of invisible beings who 
 
234 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 enjoy it with the singer; for, as I have told you, 
 sound carries from one world to another. 
 
 Never weep — unless you must, to restore lost 
 equilibrium. The weeping spirits, however, are 
 rather harmless because they are weak. Some- 
 times a storm of tears, when it is past, clears the 
 soul's atmosphere; but while the weeping is in 
 progress, the atmosphere is thick with weeping 
 spirits. One could almost hear the drip of their 
 tears through the veil of ether — if the sobbing 
 earthly one did not make so much noise with his 
 grief. 
 
 1 'Laugh and the world laughs with you," may 
 be true enough; but when you weep, you do not 
 weep alone. 
 
LETTER XLIV 
 
 THE KINGDOM WITHIN 
 
 THERE is one obscure point which I want 
 to make clear, even though I may be ac- 
 cused of "mysticism" by those to whom mysti- 
 cism means only obscurity. 
 
 I have said that the life of man is both sub- 
 jective and objective, but principally objective; 
 and that the life of "spirits" dwelling in subtle 
 matter is both subjective and objective, but prin- 
 cipally subjective. 
 
 Yet I have spoken of going alone or with others 
 to heaven, as a place. I want to explain this. 
 You remember the saying, "The kingdom of 
 heaven is within you," that is, subjective. Also, 
 "Where two or three are gathered together in 
 My name, there will I be in the midst of them." 
 
 Now, those places in this subtle realm which I 
 have called the Christian heavens are places 
 where two or three, or two or three thousand, 
 as the case may be, are gathered together in His 
 
 235 
 
236 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 name, to enjoy the kingdom of heaven within 
 them. 
 
 The aggregation of souls is objective — that is, 
 the souls exist in time and space ; the heaven which 
 they enjoy is subjective, though they may all see 
 the same thing at the same time, as, for instance, 
 the vision of Him whom they adore as Redeemer. 
 
 That is as clear as I can make it. 
 
LETTER XLV 
 
 THE GAME OF MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
 ONE day I met a man in doublet and hose, 
 who announced to me that he was Shake- 
 speare. Now I have become accustomed to such 
 announcements, and they do not surprise me as 
 they did six or eight months ago. (Yes, I still 
 keep account of your months, for a purpose of 
 my own.) 
 
 I asked this man what proof he could adduce 
 of his extraordinary claim, and he answered that 
 it needed no proof. 
 
 "That will not go down with me," I said, "for 
 I am an old lawyer." 
 
 Thereupon he laughed, and asked: 
 "Why did you not join in the game?" 
 I am telling you this rather senseless story, be- 
 cause it illustrates an interesting point in regard 
 to our life here. 
 
 In a former letter I wrote about my meeting 
 with a newly arrived lady, who, finding me 
 
 237 
 
238 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 dressed in a Roman toga, thought that I might 
 be Csesar; and that I told her we were all actors 
 here. I meant that, like children, we "dress up" 
 when we want to impress our own imagination, or 
 to relive some scene in the past. 
 
 This playing of a part is usually quite innocent, 
 though sometimes the very ease with which it is 
 done brings with it the temptation to deception, 
 especially in dealings with the earth people. 
 
 You see the point I wish to make. The "lying 
 spirits," of which the frequenters of seance rooms 
 so often make complaint, are these astral actors, 
 who may even come to take a certain pride in 
 the cleverness of their art. 
 
 Be not too sure that the spirit who claims to 
 be your deceased grandfather is that estimable 
 old man himself. He may be merely an actor 
 playing a part, for his own entertainment and 
 yours. 
 
 How is one to tell, you ask? One cannot al- 
 ways tell. I should say, however, that the surest 
 test of all would be the deep and unemotional 
 conviction that the veritable entity was in one's 
 presence. There is an instinct in the human 
 heart which will never deceive us, if we without 
 fear or bias will yield ourselves to its decision. 
 How often in worldly matters have we all acted 
 
THE GAME OF MAKE-BELIEVE 239 
 
 against this inner monitor, and been deceived and 
 led astray! 
 
 If you have an instinctive feeling that a cer- 
 tain invisible — or even visible — entity is not what 
 it claims to be, it is better to discontinue the con- 
 ference. If it is the real person, and if he has 
 anything vital to say, he will come again and 
 again; for the so-called dead are often very de- 
 sirous to communicate with the living. 
 
 As a rule, though, the play-acting over here 
 is innocent of intent to deceive. Most men desire 
 occasionally to be something which they are not. 
 The poor man who, for one evening, dresses 
 himself in his best clothes and squanders a week's 
 salary in playing" the millionaire is moved by the 
 same impulse which inspired the man in my story 
 to .assert that he was Shakespeare. The woman 
 who always dresses beyond her means is playing 
 the same little game with herself and with the 
 world. 
 
 All children know the game. They will tell 
 you in a convinced tone that they are Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, or George Washington, and they feel 
 hurt if you scoff. 
 
 Perhaps my friend with the Shakespearean as- 
 piration was an amateur dramatist when he was 
 on earth. Had he been a professional dramatist, 
 
240 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 he would probably have stated his real name, 
 more or less unknown, and followed it by the 
 declaration that he was the well-known So-and-so. 
 
 There is much pride out here in the accom- 
 plishments of the earth-life, especially among 
 those who have recently come out. This lessens 
 with time, and after one has been long here one's 
 interests are likely to be more general. 
 
 Men and women do not cease to be human 
 merely by crossing the frontier of what you call 
 the invisible world. In fact, the human charac- 
 teristics are often exaggerated, because the re- 
 straints are fewer. There are no penalties in- 
 flicted by the community for the personating of 
 one man by another. It is not taken seriously, for 
 to the clearer sight of this world the disguise is 
 too transparent. 
 
LETTER XLVI 
 
 HEIRS OF HERMES 
 
 THERE is much sound sense and not a little 
 nonsense talked about Adepts and Mas- 
 ters, who live and work on the astral plane. Now 
 I am myself living, and sometimes working, on 
 the so-called astral plane, and what I say about 
 the plane is the result of experience and not of 
 theory. 
 
 I have met Adepts — yes, Masters here. One 
 of them especially has taught me much, and has 
 guided my footsteps from the first. 
 
 Do not fear to believe in Masters. Masters 
 are men raised to the highest power; and whether 
 they are embodied or disembodied, they work on 
 this plane of life. A Master can go in and out 
 at will. 
 
 No, I am not going to tell the world how they 
 do it. Some who are not Masters might try the 
 experiment, and not be able to go back again. 
 Knowledge is power ; but there are certain powers 
 
 241 
 
242 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 which may be dangerous if put in practice with- 
 out a corresponding degree of wisdom. 
 
 All human beings have in them the potentiality 
 of mastership. That ought to be an encourage- 
 ment to men and women who aspire to an inten- 
 sity of life beyond that of the ordinary. But 
 the attainment of mastership is a steady and gen- 
 erally a slow growth. 
 
 My Teacher here is a Master. 
 
 There are teachers here who are not Masters, 
 as there are teachers on earth who have not the 
 rank of professor; but he who is willing to teach 
 what he knows is on the right road. 
 
 I do not mind saying that my Teacher ap- 
 proves of my trying to tell the world something 
 about the life which follows the change that is 
 called death. If he disapproved, I should bow 
 to his superior wisdom. 
 
 No, it does not matter what his name is. I 
 have referred to him simply as my Teacher, and 
 have told you many things which he has said and 
 done. Many other things I have not told you, 
 for I can only come occasionally now. After a 
 time I shall probably cease to come altogether. 
 Not that I shall have lost interest in you; but 
 it seems to be the plan that I shall get farther 
 away from the world, to learn things which neces- 
 
HEIRS OF HERMES 243 
 
 sitate for their comprehension a certain loosening 
 of the earthly tie. Later I may return again, 
 for the second time; but I make no promises. I 
 will come if I can, and if it seems wise to come, 
 and if you are in a mood to let me. 
 
 I do not believe that I shall come through any- 
 body else — at least, not to write letters like this. 
 I should probably have to put such another person 
 through the same training process that I put you 
 through, and few — even of those who were my 
 friends and associates — would trust me to that 
 extent. So, even after I am gone, do not shut the 
 door too tight, in case I should want to come 
 again, for I might have something immensely im- 
 portant to say. But on the other hand, please 
 refrain from calling me; because if you should 
 call me you might draw me away from important 
 work or study somewhere else. I do not say for 
 certain that you could, but it is possible ; and when 
 I leave the neighbourhood of the earth of my 
 own accord, I do not wish to be drawn back until 
 I am ready to return. 
 
 A person still upon the earth may call so in- 
 tensely to a friend who has passed far away from 
 the earth's atmosphere, that that soul will come 
 back too soon in response to the eager cry. 
 
 Do not forget the dead, unless they are strong 
 
244 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 enough to be happy without your remembrance; 
 but do not lean too heavily upon them. 
 
 The Masters, of whom I spoke a little while 
 ago, can remain near or far away, as they will; 
 they can respond or not respond: but the ordinary 
 soul is very sensitive to the call of those it loved 
 on earth. 
 
 I have seen a mother respond eagerly to the 
 tearful prayer of a child, and yet unable to make 
 the lonely one realise her presence. Sometimes 
 the mothers are very sad because they cannot 
 make their presence felt. 
 
 One time I saw my Teacher by his power help 
 a mother to make herself seen and heard by a 
 daughter who was in great trouble. The heart 
 of my Teacher is very soft to the sufferings of 
 the world; and though he says that he is not one 
 of the Christs, yet he often seems to work as 
 Christ works. At other times he is all mind. He 
 illustrates the saying about the thrice-greatest 
 Hermes Trismegistus — great in body, great in 
 mind, great in heart. 
 
 I wish I could tell you more about my 
 Teacher, but he does not wish to be too well 
 known on earth. He works for the work's sake, 
 and not for reward or praise. 
 
 He is very fond of children, and one day when 
 
HEIRS OF HERMES 245 
 
 I was sitting unseen in the house of a friend of 
 mine on earth, and the little son of the house fell 
 down and hurt himself and wept bitterly, my great 
 Teacher, whom I have seen command literally 
 "legions of angels, " bent down in his tenuous 
 form, which he was then wearing, and soothed 
 and comforted the child. 
 
 When I asked him about it afterwards, he said 
 that he remembered many childhoods of his own, 
 in other lands, and that he could still feel in mem- 
 ory the sting of physical pain and the shock of a 
 physical fall. 
 
 He told me that children suffer more than their 
 elders realise, that the bewilderment felt in grad- 
 ually adjusting to a new and frail and growing 
 body is often the cause of intense suffering. 
 
 He said that the constant crying of some small 
 babies is caused by their half-discouragement at 
 the herculean task before them — the task of 
 moulding a body through which their spirit can 
 work. 
 
 He told me a story of one of his former in- 
 carnations, before he became a Master, and what 
 a hard struggle he had to build a body. He could 
 remember even the smallest details of that far- 
 away life. One day his mother punished him for 
 something which he had not really done, and when 
 
246 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 he denied the supposed wrongful act, she chided 
 him for untruthfulness, not realising — good 
 woman though she was — the essential truth of 
 the soul to whom she had given form. He told 
 me that from that childish impression, centuries 
 ago, he could date his real battle against injus- 
 tice, which had helped to develop him as a friend 
 and teacher of mankind. 
 
 Then he went on to speak of the importance 
 of our recovering the memory of other lives, in 
 order that we may see the roads by which our 
 souls have come. 
 
 As a rule, the great teachers are reticent about 
 their own past, and they only refer to it when 
 some point in their experience can be used to il- 
 lustrate a principle, and thus help another to grasp 
 the principle. It encourages a groping soul to 
 know that one who has attained a great height 
 has been through the same trials that now perplex 
 him. 
 
LETTER XLVII 
 
 ONLY A SONG 
 
 WILL you listen to another song, or chant, 
 or whatever you choose to call it, of that 
 amazing angel whom we know as the Beautiful 
 Being? 
 
 Why do you fear to question me? I am the great an- 
 swerer of questions; 
 
 Though my answers are often symbols, yet words them- 
 selves are only symbols. 
 
 I have not visited you for a season, for when I am 
 around, you can think of nothing else, and it is well 
 that you should think of those who have trodden 
 the path you are treading. 
 
 You can pattern your ways on those of others, you can 
 hardly pattern your ways on mine. 
 
 I am a light in the darkness — my name you do not need 
 to know; 
 
 247 
 
248 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 A name is a limitation, and I refuse to be limited. 
 
 In the ancient days of the angels, I refused to enter the 
 forms of my own creation, except to play with 
 them. 
 
 There is a hint for you, if you like hints. 
 
 He who is held by his own creations becomes a slave. 
 That is one of the differences between me and men. 
 
 What earthly father can escape his children? What 
 earthly mother wishes to? 
 
 But I ! I can make a rose to bloom — then leave it for 
 another to enjoy. 
 
 My joy was in the making. It would be dull for me to 
 stay with a rose until its petals fell. 
 
 The artist who can forget his past creations may create 
 greater and greater things. 
 
 The joy is in the doing, not in the holding fast to that 
 which is done. 
 
 Oh, the magic of letting go ! It is the magic of the gods. 
 
 There are races of men to whom I have revealed my- 
 self. They worship me. 
 
ONLY A SONG 249 
 
 You need not worship me, for I do not require worship. 
 
 That would be to limit myself to my own creations, if I 
 needed anything from the souls I have touched with 
 my beauty. 
 
 Oh, the magic of letting go ! 
 
 The magic of holding on? 
 
 Yes, there is a magic in holding on to a thing until it 
 is finished and perfect; 
 
 But when a thing is finished, whether it be a poem, a 
 love, or a child, let it go. 
 
 In that way you are free again and may begin another. 
 It is the secret of eternal youth. 
 
 Never look back with regret; look back only to learn 
 what is behind you. 
 
 Look forward always; it is only when a man ceases to 
 look forward to things that he begins to grow old. 
 He settles down. 
 
 I have said to live in the moment; that is the same thing 
 seen from another side. 
 
 The present and the future are playfellows; we do not 
 play when we study the past. 
 
 I am the great playfellow of men. 
 
LETTER XLVIII 
 
 INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 
 
 IT is not yet too late to wish you a merry Christ- 
 mas. 
 
 How do I know that it is Christmas Day? 
 Because I have been looking in at houses which 
 I used to frequent, and have seen trees laden with 
 tinsel and gifts. Do you wonder that I could see 
 them? If so, you forget that we light our own 
 place. When we know how to look, we can see 
 behind the veil. 
 
 This is my first Christmas Day on this side. 
 I cannot send you a material gift which you could 
 wear or hang up in your room; but I can send 
 you the good wishes of the season. 
 
 The mothers who have left young children be- 
 hind them in the world know well when Christ- 
 mas is approaching. Sometimes they bring in- 
 visible gifts, which they have fashioned by their 
 power of imagination and love out of the tenuous 
 matter of this world. A certain grandmother all 
 
 250 
 
INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 25 1 
 
 last evening, Christmas Eve, was scattering flow- 
 ers around her dear ones. Their fragrance must 
 have penetrated the atmosphere of the earth. 
 
 Did you ever smell suddenly a sweet perfume 
 which you could not account for? If so, per- 
 haps some one who loved you was scattering in- 
 visible flowers. Love is stronger than death. 
 
 Another whom you know will go out before 
 long. Strengthen her with your faith. 
 
 The practice of keeping Christmas is a good 
 one, if you do not forget the real meaning of the 
 day. To some it means the birth into the world 
 of the spirit of humility and love ; but while love 
 and humility had visited the world before the ap- 
 pearance of Jesus of Nazareth, yet never before 
 nor since have they come with greater power than 
 they came to Judaea. Whether the stable in Beth- 
 lehem was a physical reality or a symbol, makes 
 no difference. 
 
 I have been to the heavens of Christ, and know 
 their beauty. "In My Father's house are many 
 mansions." 
 
 A traveller like me who wishes to go to some 
 particular heaven must first feel in himself what 
 those souls feel who enjoy that heaven; then he 
 can enter and commune with them. He could 
 never go as a mere sight-seer. That is why, as 
 
252 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 a rule, I have avoided the hells; but the heavens 
 I often visit. 
 
 And I have been in purgatory, the purgatory 
 of the Roman Catholics. Do not scoff at those 
 who have masses said for the repose of the souls 
 of the departed. The souls are often conscious 
 of such thoughtfulness. They hear the music, 
 and they may smell the incense ; most of all, they 
 feel the power of the thought directed to them. 
 Purgatory is real, in the sense of being a real 
 experience. If you want to call it a dream, you 
 may; but dreams are sometimes terribly real. 
 
 Even those who do not believe in purgatory 
 sometimes wander awhile in sadness, until they 
 have adjusted themselves to the new conditions 
 under which they live. Should one tell them that 
 they were in purgatory, they might deny the ex- 
 istence of such a state; but they would readily 
 admit their discomfort. 
 
 The surest way to escape that painful period 
 of transition is to go into the hereafter with a full 
 faith in immortality, a full faith in the power of 
 the soul to create its own conditions. 
 
 Last night, after visiting various places upon 
 the earth, I went to one of the highest Christian 
 heavens. Perhaps I could not have gone so easily 
 at any other time; for my heart was full of love 
 
INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 253 
 
 for all men and my mind was full of the Christ 
 idea. 
 
 Often have I seen Him who is called the Sa- 
 viour of men, and last night I saw Him in all His 
 beauty. He, too, came down to the world for a 
 time. 
 
 I wonder if I can make you understand? The 
 love of Christ is always present in the world, be- 
 cause there are always hearts that keep it alight. 
 If the idea of Christ as a redeemer should ever 
 grow faint in the world, He would probably go 
 back there and relight the flame in human hearts; 
 but whatever the writers of statistics may say, that 
 idea was never more real than at present. It 
 may have been more talked about. 
 
 The world is not in so bad a way as some 
 people think. Be not surprised if there should 
 be a strong renaissance of the spiritual idea. All 
 things have their rhythms. 
 
 Last night I stood in a great church where 
 hundreds of Christians knelt in adoration of Je- 
 sus. I have stood in churches on Christmas Eve 
 when on earth as a man among men; but I saw 
 things last night which I had never seen before. 
 Surely where two or three are gathered together 
 in the name of any prophet, there he is in the 
 
254 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 midst of them, if not always in his spiritual body, 
 at least in the fragrance of his sympathy. 
 
 The angels in the Christian heavens know when 
 Christmas is being celebrated on earth. 
 
 Jesus of Nazareth is a reality. As a spiritual 
 body, as Jesus who dwelt in Galilee, He exists in 
 space and time; as the Christ, the paradigm of 
 the spiritual man, He exists in the hearts of all 
 men and women who awaken that idea in them- 
 selves. He is a light which is reflected in many 
 pools. 
 
 I wrote the other day about Adepts and Mas- 
 ters. Jesus is a type of the greatest Master. He 
 is revered in all the heavens. He grasped the 
 Law and dared to live it, to exemplify it. And 
 when He said, "The Father and I are one," He 
 pointed the way by which other men may realise 
 mastership in themselves. 
 
 Humanity on its long road has evolved many 
 Masters. Who then shall dare to question that 
 humanity has justified itself? If one demands to 
 know what purpose there is in life, tell him that 
 it is this very evolution of the Master out of the 
 man. Eternity is long. The goal is ahead for 
 each unit of sufficient strength, and those who 
 cannot lead can serve. 
 
 This thought came home to me with special 
 
INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 255 
 
 force last night. I am not so bold as to say that 
 every unit in the great mass is strong enough, has 
 energy enough, to evolve individual mastership; 
 but there is no unit so weak that it may not have 
 some part, however small, in the great work of 
 evolving Masters out of men. It is sweet to 
 serve. They too have their reward. 
 
 The great mistake made by most minds in wres- 
 tling with the problem of evolution is in not grasp- 
 ing the fact that eternity is eternity, that to be 
 immortal is to have no beginning or end. There 
 is time enough in which to develop, if not in this 
 life cycle, then in another which will follow; for 
 rhythm is sure. 
 
 If I could only make you grasp the idea of 
 immortality as I see it! I did not fully under- 
 stand it until I came out here and began to pick 
 up the threads of my own past. My reason told 
 me that I was immortal, but I did not know what 
 immortality meant. I wonder if you do? 
 
 I know an angel who has done more, perhaps, 
 than many prophets have done to keep that idea 
 alight in the world. Until I met the one whom 
 we know as the Beautiful Being I had not revelled 
 in the triumph of immortality. There is one who 
 plays with immortality as a child plays with mar- 
 bles. 
 
256 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 When the Beautiful Being says, "I am," you 
 know that you are, too. When the Beautiful 
 Being says, "I pluck the centuries as a child pulls 
 the petals of a daisy, and I throw away the seed- 
 bearing heart to grow more century-bearing dai- 
 sies/' you feel — but words are weak to express 
 what the Beautiful Being's joy in endless life can 
 make one feel. 
 
 You forget the thing of flesh and bones which 
 you used to call yourself when this sliver of con- 
 scious immortality exults in its own existence. 
 
 When the Beautiful Being takes you for a walk 
 in what it calls the "clover meadows of the sky," 
 you are quite sure that you are one of the co- 
 heirs of the whole eternal estate. 
 
 The Beautiful Being knows well the Christ of 
 the Christians. I think the Beautiful Being knows 
 all the great Masters, embodied or disembodied. 
 They all taught immortality in some form or 
 other, if only in essence. 
 
 The Beautiful Being went with me last night 
 to the highest heaven of the Christians. Should 
 I tell you all that I saw, you might be in too great 
 a hurry to go out there and view it for yourself, 
 and you must not leave the earth for a long time 
 yet. You must realise immortality while still in 
 the flesh, and make others realise it. 
 
 
 \ 
 
INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 257 
 
 I have told you about the minor heavens, where 
 merely good people go; but the passionately de- 
 vout lovers of God reach heights of contempla- 
 tion and ecstasy which the words of the world's 
 languages were not designed to describe. With 
 the Beautiful Being at my side I felt those ec- 
 stasies last night, while you were locked in sleep. 
 
 Where shall I be next Christmas Eve? I shall 
 be somewhere in the universe; for we could not 
 get out of the universe if we should try. The 
 universe could not get on without us ; it would be 
 incomplete. Take that thought with you into 
 the happy New Year. 
 
LETTER XLIX 
 
 THE GREATER DREAMLAND 
 
 I HAVE not been to see you for some time, 
 for I have been trying an experiment. 
 
 Since coming to this country I have so often 
 seen men and women lying in a state of subjective 
 enjoyment, of dream, if I may use the word, that 
 I have long wanted to spend a few days alone with 
 my interior self, in that same state. My reason 
 for hesitating was that I feared to dream too 
 long, and thus to lose valuable time — both yours 
 and mine. 
 
 But when I expressed to the Teacher one day 
 my desire to visit the greater dreamland lying 
 within my own brain, also my fear that I might 
 be slow in waking, he promised that he would 
 come and wake me in exactly seven days of earthly 
 time if I had not already aroused myself. 
 
 "For," he said, "you can set an alarm-clock 
 in your own brain, which can always be relied 
 upon." 
 
 258 
 
THE GREATER DREAMLAND 259 
 
 This I knew from old experience; but I had 
 feared that the psychic sleep might be deeper 
 than the ordinary earthly sleep, and that the 
 alarm-clock might not go off at the appointed 
 time. 
 
 I have heard much comment, so doubtless have 
 you, on the fact that spirits, when they return 
 to communicate with their friends, say, as a rule, 
 so little about their celestial life. The reason is, 
 I fancy, that they despair of making themselves 
 understood should they attempt to describe their 
 existence, which is so different from that of earth. 
 
 Now, most souls, when they have been out 
 some time, fall into that state of reverie, or 
 dream, which I had so long desired to experience 
 for myself. Some souls awake at intervals, and 
 show an occasional interest in the things and peo- 
 ple of the earth; but if the sleep is deep, and if 
 the soul is willing or desirous to leave the things 
 of the earth behind, the subconscious state may 
 last uninterruptedly for years, or even centuries. 
 But a soul that could stay asleep for centuries 
 would probably be one that was living according 
 to long rhythm, the normal rhythm of humanity. 
 
 So, when I went into the deep sleep, I went 
 into it with a spell upon myself not to remain too 
 long. 
 
260 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 Oh, it was wonderful, that dream-country in 
 my own self! The Theosophists would perhaps 
 say that I had taken a rest in the bliss of deva- 
 chan. No matter what one calls it. It was an 
 experience worth remembering. 
 
 I closed my eyes and went in — in — deeper than 
 thought, where the restless waves of life are still, 
 and the soul is face to face with itself and with 
 all the wonders of its own past. There is noth- 
 ing but loveliness in that sleep. If one can bring 
 back the dreams, as I did, the sojourn there is an 
 adventure beyond comparison. 
 
 I went in to enjoy, and I enjoyed. I found 
 there the simulacrum of everyone whom I had 
 ever loved. They smiled at me, and I understood 
 the mystery of them, and why we had been drawn 
 together. 
 
 I refound, too, my old dreams of ambition, and 
 enjoyed the fruit of all my labour on earth. It 
 is a rosy world, that inner world of the soul, and 
 the heart's desire is always found there. No 
 wonder that the strenuous life of earth is oftener 
 than not a pain and a travail, for the dream-life 
 which follows is so beautiful that the balance must 
 be preserved. 
 
 Rest ! On earth you know not the meaning of 
 the word. I rested only seven days; but so re- 
 
THE GREATER DREAMLAND 26 1 
 
 freshed was I that, had I not other worlds to 
 conquer, I should almost have had the courage 
 to return to earth. 
 
 Do not neglect rest — you who still live the toil- 
 some life in the sunshine. For every added hour 
 of true rest your working capacity is increased. 
 Have no fear. You are not wasting time when 
 you lie down and dream. As I have said before, 
 eternity is long. There is room for rest in the 
 wayside inns which dot the path which the cycles 
 tread. 
 
 If you want to take a long and devachanic rest 
 — why, take it. Take it even on earth, if it seems 
 desirable. Do not be always grubbing, even at 
 literature. Go out and play with the squirrels, 
 or lie by the fire and dream with the household 
 cat. The cat that enjoys the drowsy fireside also 
 enjoys catching mice when the mood is on her. 
 She cannot be always hunting, neither can you. 
 
 Just take a dip in devachan some day, and see 
 how refreshed you will be when you come out. 
 Perhaps I am misusing that word "devachan," 
 for I was never very deeply learned in the lore 
 of Theosophy. 
 
 I have even heard nirvana described as a state 
 of intense motion, so rapid that it seems motion- 
 less, like a spinning-top, or the wing of a hum- 
 
262 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 ming-bird. But nirvana is not for all men — not 
 yet. 
 
 I have hinted at the wonders of my seven days 
 of blissful rest, but I have not described them. 
 How can I? A great poet once declared that 
 there was no thought or feeling which could not 
 be expressed in words. Perhaps he has changed 
 his mind by this time, after being out here some 
 sixty years. 
 
 As I went to rest, I commanded my soul to 
 bring back every dream. Of course I cannot say 
 whether some may not have escaped, any more 
 than you can say on waking that you have or 
 have not forgotten the deeper experiences of the 
 night. But when I came back into the normal 
 life of this plane that is called astral, I felt like 
 an explorer who returns from a strange journey 
 with wonder-tales to tell. Only I did not tell 
 them. To whom should I relate those dreams 
 and visions? I would not be a bore, even to "dis- 
 embodied" associates. Had Lionel been here, I 
 might have entertained him many an hour with 
 my stories ; but he is lost to me for the present. 
 
 And, by the way, he seems to have taken little 
 or no devachanic rest. Is that because he was so 
 young on coming out that he had not exhausted 
 the normal rhythm ? Probably. Had he remained 
 
THE GREATER DREAMLAND 263 
 
 out here and grown up, perhaps he also would 
 have sought the deeper interior world. But I 
 will not speculate, for this is a record of experi- 
 ences, not of speculations. You can speculate as 
 well as I, if you think it worth while. 
 
 I found in my own dreamland a fair, fair face, 
 No, I am not going to tell you about that; it is 
 my little secret. Of course I found many faces, 
 but one was lovelier than all the others, and it 
 was not the face of the Beautiful Being, either. 
 The Beautiful Being I meet when I am wide 
 awake. I did not encounter her as an actual pres- 
 ence in sleep, only the simulacrum of her. In 
 the deeper dreamland we see only what is in our 
 brains. Things do not exist there, only the mem- 
 ories of things and the imagination of them. 
 
 Imagination creates in this world, as in yours: 
 it actually moulds the tenuous substance; but in 
 the greater dreamland I do not think that we 
 mould in substance. It is a world of light and 
 shadow pictures, too subtle to be described. 
 
 Even before this experience I had gone into 
 the memories of my own past; but I had not rev- 
 elled in them, had not indulged myself to the ex- 
 tent of conjuring with light and shade. But, oh ! 
 what's the use? There are no words to describe 
 it. Can you describe the perfume of a rose, as 
 
264 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 you once said yourself? Can you tell how a kiss 
 feels? Could you even describe the emotion of 
 fear so that one who had not felt it, by former 
 experience in this life or some other, would know 
 what you meant? No more can I describe the 
 process of spiritual dreaming. 
 
 Revel to your heart's content in fancy, in mem- 
 ory, while you are still in the body, and yet I 
 think that you will have only the shadow of a 
 shadow of what I experienced in those seven days, 
 the reflection of a reflection of the real dream. 
 The reflection of a reflection ! I like that phrase. 
 It suggests a clear picture, though not a direct 
 impression. Try dreaming, then, even on earth, 
 and maybe you will get a reflection of a reflection 
 of the pictured joys of the spiritual dreamland. 
 
LETTER E 
 
 A SERMON AND A PROMISE 
 
 AS I have been coming to you every few days 
 for several months, and have told stories 
 for your amusement, may I come now and preach 
 a sermon? I promise it shall not be long. 
 
 You live in a land where church spires pierce 
 the blue of heaven, looking from the viewpoint 
 of the clouds like the uplifted spears of an invad- 
 ing army — which in intent they are; so surely you 
 have the habit of listening to sermons. The aver- 
 age sermon is made up mostly of advice, and mine 
 will not differ from others in that particular. I 
 wish to advise you, and as many other persons 
 as you can make listen to my advice. 
 
 You will grant that, for one who offers counsel, 
 I have had unusual opportunities for fitting myself 
 to give it. In order to help you to live, I would 
 show you the point of view of a serious and 
 thoughtful — however imperfect — observer of the 
 
 265 
 
266 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 after effects of causes set in motion by dwellers 
 upon the earth. It has been said that cause and 
 effect are opposite and equal. Very good. Now 
 I want to draw your attention to certain illus- 
 trations of that axiom which have come to my 
 mind during the last few months. If I repeat 
 one or two things which I have already said, that 
 is no serious matter. You may have forgotten 
 them, or missed their application to the business 
 of preparing for the future life on this side of 
 the gulf of death. That is a moss-grown figure 
 of speech, "the gulf of death" ; but I am writing 
 a sermon, not a poem, and well-worn tropes are 
 expected from the pulpit. 
 
 The preachers remind you every few Sundays 
 that you have got to die some day. Do you re- 
 alise it? Does your consciousness take in the fact 
 that at any moment — to-morrow or fifty years 
 hence — you may suddenly find yourself outside 
 that body whose cohesive force you have become 
 accustomed to ; that you may find yourself, either 
 alone or accompanied, in a very tenuous and light 
 and at first not easily manageable body, with no 
 certain power of communicating with those 
 friends and relations whom you may see in the 
 very room with you? 
 
 You have not realised it? Then get it through 
 
A SERMON AND A PROMISE 267 
 
 your consciousness. Grasp it with both hemi- 
 spheres of your brain. Clutch it with the talons 
 of your mind. You are going to die. 
 
 Oh, do not be alarmed! I do not mean you 
 personally, nor that you, or any particular per- 
 son, will die to-morrow, or next year ; but die you 
 must some day; and if you remind yourself of 
 it occasionally, it will lessen the shock of the ac- 
 tual happening when it comes. 
 
 Do not brood over the thought of death. God 
 forbid that you should read such a morbid mean- 
 ing into my blunt words ! But be prepared. You 
 insure your life for so much money that your 
 family may be provided for; but you do nothing 
 to insure your own future peace of mind regarding 
 your own self. 
 
 Remember this always : however minute are the 
 instructions you leave for the management of your 
 affairs after death, should you be able to look 
 back to the earth you will find that someone has 
 mismanaged them. So expect just that, take it 
 as a matter of course, and learn to say, "What 
 difference does it make?" Learn to feel that 
 the past is past, that the future alone has possi- 
 bilities for you, and that the sooner you leave 
 Other persons to manage your discarded earthly 
 affairs the better it will be for your own tranquil- 
 
268 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 lity. Be prepared to let go. That is the first 
 point I wish to make. 
 
 Do not go out into the new life with only one 
 eye open to the celestial planes, and the other in- 
 verted towards the images of earth. You will 
 not get far if you do. Let go. Get away from 
 the world just as soon as you can. 
 
 This may sound to some people like heartless 
 advice, for there is no doubt that a wise spirit, 
 looking down from the higher sphere, can, by his 
 subtly instilled telepathic suggestions, influence for 
 good the men and women of the earth. But there 
 are always thousands of those who are eager to 
 do that. The heavens above your head now are 
 literally swarming with souls who long to take 
 a hand in the business of earth, souls who cannot 
 let go, who find the habit of managing other peo- 
 ple's affairs a fascinating habit, as enthralling as 
 that of tobacco, or opium. Again, do not call me 
 heartless. I am blunt of speech, but I love you, 
 men of earth. If I hurt you, it is for your good. 
 
 Now comes another and a most interesting 
 point. Forget, if you can, the sins you have com- 
 mitted in the flesh. You cannot escape the effects 
 of those causes ; but you can avoid strengthening 
 the tie with sin, you can avoid going back to earth 
 
A SERMON AND A PROMISE 269 
 
 self-hypnotised with the idea that you are a sin- 
 ner. 
 
 Do not brood over sin. It is true that you 
 can exhaust the impulse to sin by dwelling on it 
 until your soul is disgusted; but that is a slow 
 and an unpleasant process. The short-cut of for- 
 getfulness is better. 
 
 Now I want to express an idea very difficult 
 to express, for the reason that it will be quite 
 new to most of you. It is this: The power of 
 the creative imagination is stronger in men wear- 
 ing their earthly bodies than it is in men (spirits) 
 who have laid off their bodies. Not that most 
 persons know how to use that power: they do not; 
 the point I wish to make is that they can use it. A 
 solid body is a resistive base, a powerful lever, 
 from which the will can project those things con- 
 jured by the imagination. That is, I believe, the 
 real reason why Masters retain their physical 
 bodies. The trained mind, robed in the tenuous 
 matter of our world, is stronger than the un- 
 trained mind robed in dense matter; but the Mas- 
 ters still robed in flesh can command a legion of 
 angels. 1 
 
 *He has said that they build freely in that world through 
 the creative imagination; but we must remember how tenuous 
 and easily handled is the matter which they use.— Ed. 
 
270 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 This is by way of preface to the assertion that 
 as you on earth picture your future life to be, so 
 it will be, limited always by the power with which 
 you back your will, and by the possibility of sub- 
 tle matter to take the mould you give it, and that 
 possibility is almost unlimited. 
 
 Will to progress after death, and you will 
 progress; will to learn, and you will learn; will 
 to return to the earth after a time to take up a 
 special work, and you will return and take up 
 that work. 
 
 Karma is an iron law, yes; but you are the crea- 
 tor of karma. 
 
 Above all things, do not expect — which is to 
 demand — unconsciousness and annihilation. You 
 cannot annihilate the unit of force which you are, 
 but you can by self-suggestion put it to sleep for 
 ages. Go out of life with the determination to 
 retain consciousness, and you will retain it. 
 
 When the time comes for you to enter that 
 rest which a certain school of thought has called 
 devachan, you will enter it; but that time will 
 not be immediately after you go out. 
 
 On finally reaching that state you will, as a 
 matter of course, relive in dream your former 
 earthly life and assimilate its experiences ; but by 
 that time you will have got rid of the desire per- 
 
A SERMON AND A PROMISE 27 1 
 
 sonally to take part, as a spirit, in the lives of 
 those you have left behind. 
 
 Do not, while still on earth, invoke the spirits 
 of the dead. They may be busy elsewhere, and 
 you may be strong enough to call them away 
 from their own business to attend to yours un- 
 willingly. 
 
 You who write for me, I want to thank you 
 for never calling me. You let me come always at 
 my own time, and let me say what I wish to say 
 without confusing my thought by either questions 
 or comments. 
 
 You of the earth who are still upon the earth 
 may find your departed friends when you come 
 out here, if they have not already put on another 
 body. Meantime, let them perform the work of 
 the state in which they are. 
 
 You who write for me will remember that the 
 first time I came you did not even know that I 
 had left the earth. I found you in a passive mood, 
 and wrote a message signed by a symbol whose 
 special meaning was unknown to you, but which 
 I knew would be immediately recognised by those 
 in whom you were likely to confide. That was 
 a most fortunate beginning, for it gave you con- 
 fidence in the genuineness of my communications. 
 
 But I said that I would write only a sermon to- 
 
272 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 night, so I will now pronounce the blessing and 
 depart. I shall return, however. This is not 
 the last meeting of the season. 
 
 Later. 
 
 One word more before I go to my other work. 
 
 If you had urgently called me during that week 
 which I spent in rest, you might have had the 
 power to cut short a most interesting and valuable 
 experience. So the final word, after the benedic- 
 tion of this sermon, is : Do not be too egotistically 
 insistent, even with the so-called dead. 
 
 If your need is great, the souls who love you 
 may feel it and come to you of their own accord. 
 This is often illustrated in the earth life, among 
 those whose psychic pores are open. 
 
LETTER LI 
 
 THE APRIL OF THE WORLD 
 
 HAVING told you last week that you must 
 die, according to the jargon of the earth, 
 I now want to assure you that you can never really 
 die at all ; that you are as immortal as the angels, 
 as immortal as God Himself. 
 
 No, that is not a contradiction. 
 
 I have spoken before of immortality: it was 
 always a favourite theme of mine; but since my 
 association with the Beautiful Being it has become 
 for me an exultant consciousness. 
 
 The Beautiful Being lives in eternity, as we 
 fancy that we live in time. Will you write down 
 here another of that angel's chants? 
 
 When you see me in the green trees and in the green 
 light under trees, know that you are near to me: 
 
 When you hear my voice in the silence, know that I 
 speak for you. 
 
 273 
 
274 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 The immortal loves to speak to the immortal in the mor- 
 tal, and there is joy in calling to the joy which 
 dozes in the heart of a soul of earth. 
 
 When joy is awake, the soul is awake. 
 
 You look for God in the forms of men and women, and 
 sometimes you find Him there; 
 
 But you look for me in your own soul; the deeper the 
 gaze, the fairer the vision. 
 
 Yes, I am in Nature, and I am in you, when you look for 
 me there; 
 
 For Nature is dual, and the half you carry within you. 
 
 All things are one and dual — even I, and that is why 
 you may find me. 
 
 Oh, the charm of being free, to wander at will round 
 the earth and heaven, and through the souls of 
 men! 
 
 I am lighter than the thistle-down, but more enduring 
 than the stars: 
 
 The permanent is impalpable, and only the impalpable 
 endures. 
 
THE APRIL OF THE WORLD 275 
 
 The road is not long which leads to the castle of dreams ; 
 the far-away is nearer than next-door, but only the 
 dreamer finds it. 
 
 When labour is light, the pay is sure; when the days 
 are hard, their reward is tardy. 
 
 Be glad, and I will repay you. 
 
 I would write my name on the leaves of your heart, but 
 only the angels can read the writing. 
 
 Who bears my unknown name on the petals of his heart 
 is accepted among the angels for the flower he is; 
 his perfume reaches heaven. 
 
 There is pollen in the heart, child of earth, and it fructi- 
 fies the flowers of faith; 
 
 There is faith in the soul, child of time, and it bears 
 the seeds of all things. 
 
 The seasons come and the seasons go, but the spring- 
 time is eternal. 
 
 I can find that in you which was lost in the April of the 
 world. 
 
LETTER LII 
 
 A HAPPY WIDOWER 
 
 1MET a charming woman the other night, 
 quite different from anyone else I have met 
 heretofore. She was no less a woman because 
 she weighed perhaps a milligramme instead of one 
 hundred and thirty pounds. 
 
 I was passing along a quiet road, and saw her 
 standing by a fountain. Who had created the 
 fountain? I cannot say. There are sculptors in 
 this world who mould for the love of the work 
 more beautiful fountains than your sculptors 
 mould for money. The joy of the workman in 
 his work! Why, that is heaven, is it not? 
 
 I saw a beautiful woman standing by a foun- 
 tain; and as I love beauty, whether in fountains 
 or in women, I paused to regard both. 
 
 The lovelier of the two looked up and laughed. 
 
 "I was wishing for someone to talk to," she 
 said. "What a wonderful world this is !" 
 
 "I am glad you find it so," I answered. "I 
 276 
 
A HAPPY WIDOWER 277 
 
 also do not agree with the old woman who de- 
 clared that heaven was a much overrated place." 
 
 "You don't remember me, do you?" she asked. 
 
 "No. Have we met before?" 
 
 "We have. And, of course, you could remem- 
 ber me, if you should try." 
 
 Then I recalled who she was. We had met 
 some years before on one of my journeys to New 
 York, and I had talked with her about the mys- 
 teries of life and death, of will and destiny. 
 
 "I have tested many of the things you told 
 me," she went on, "and I have found them true." 
 
 "What things, for instance?" 
 
 "First and most important, that man may cre- 
 ate his own environment." 
 
 "You can easily demonstrate that here," I said. 
 "But how long have you been in this world?" 
 
 "Only a few months." 
 
 "And how did you come out?" 
 
 "I died of too much joy." 
 
 "That was a pleasant death and an unusual 
 one," I said, smiling. "How did it happen?" 
 
 "The doctor said that I died of heart-failure. 
 For years I had wanted a certain thing, and when 
 it came to me suddenly, the realisation was too 
 much for me." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
278 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 1 'Why, I suddenly realised that I had let slip 
 the body through which I might have enjoyed this 
 thing I had attained." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "I remembered that I was not my body, that 
 I was my consciousness ; and as long as that was 
 intact, I was intact. So I went right on enjoying 
 the attainment." 
 
 "Without a regret?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You are indeed a philosopher," I said. "And 
 though I do not want to force your confidence, 
 yet I would be much interested to know your 
 story." 
 
 "It would seem absurd to some people," she 
 answered, "and even to me it seems strange some- 
 times. But I had always wanted money, a great 
 deal of money. One day a certain person died, 
 leaving me a fortune. It was that joy which was 
 too strong for me." 
 
 "And how do you enjoy the fortune here?" 
 
 "In several ways. My husband and I had 
 planned a beautiful house — if we should ever have 
 the money. We had planned to travel, too, and 
 to see the interesting places of the world. We 
 also had two or three friends who loved to cre- 
 ate beauty in the arts, and who were hampered 
 
A HAPPY WIDOWER 279 
 
 in their work by lack of means. Now, my hus- 
 band, being my sole heir, came into the fortune 
 immediately I passed out. So I enjoy everything 
 with him and through him just the same as if I 
 were actually in the flesh." 
 
 "And he knows that you are present?" 
 
 "Yes. We had each promised not to desert 
 the other in life or death. I have kept my word, 
 and he knows that I have kept it." 
 
 "And where is he now?" 
 
 "Travelling." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 "Except for me." 
 
 "In what place is he?" 
 
 "In Egypt at this time." 
 
 I drew nearer. 
 
 "Can you show him to me?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Come along." 
 
 It is needless to say that I did not require a sec- 
 ond invitation. 
 
 We found the man — a handsome fellow about 
 thirty years of age — sitting alone in a luxurious 
 bedroom in Cairo. It seems to be my destiny to 
 have strange experiences in Cairo ! 
 
 The young man was reading as we entered the 
 room; but he looked up at once, for he felt that 
 she was there. I do not think he perceived me. 
 
280 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 "My darling," he said, aloud, "I have seen the 
 Pyramids !" 
 
 She placed her hand upon his forehead, and 
 he closed his eyes, the better to see her. 
 
 Then his hand moved to the table, he opened 
 his eyes again, and took up paper and pencil. I 
 saw her guide his hand, which wrote: 
 
 "I have brought a friend with me. Can you 
 see him?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 The man spoke aloud, she communicating 
 through the pencil in his hand and by his interior 
 perception of her. 
 
 "Then never mind," she wrote; "he is not an 
 egotist. I only wanted him to see you. I have 
 told him how happy I am — and now he sees why." 
 
 "This journey of mine is an unalloyed delight," 
 the man said. 
 
 "That is because I am with you," she replied. 
 
 "Were you with me at the Pyramids to-day?" 
 
 "Yes, though I cannot see very well in the sun- 
 shine. I have been there, however, and have seen 
 them by moonlight. But where are you going 
 from here?" 
 
 "Where do you want me to go?" 
 
 "Up the Nile, to Assouan." 
 
 "I will go. When shall I start?" 
 
A HAPPY WIDOWER 28 1 
 
 "The day after to-morrow. And now au re- 
 voir, my love. I will return by and by." 
 
 A moment later we were outside — she and I — 
 in the soft starlight of an Egyptian evening. 
 
 "Did I not tell you the truth?" she demanded, 
 with a little laugh of triumph. 
 
 "But have you no desire to go on in the spir- 
 itual world?" I asked. 
 
 "Is there anything more spiritual than love?" 
 she asked in return. "Is not love the fulfilling of 
 the Law?* 
 
 "But," I said, "I recently wrote a letter to the 
 men and women of the earth, advising those who 
 should come out here to get away from the earth 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 "Lovers like me will not take your advice," she 
 answered, with a smile. "And tell me now: Is 
 it not better for Henry to enjoy my society in the 
 long evenings— -is it not better for him to be 
 happy than to grieve for me?" 
 
 "But at first? Was he not inconsolable at your 
 going out?" 
 
 "Yes, until I came to him. He was sitting one 
 night in deep dejection, and I reached for his 
 hand, and wrote with it: 'I am here, Speak to 
 me.' 'My Love!' he cried, his face alight, 'are 
 you really there ?' 'Yes, I am here, and I shall 
 
282 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 come to you every day until you come out to me,* 
 I answered, through the pencil. 
 
 "He had never known that he was what you 
 call a 'writing medium.' He would never have 
 been but for my presence in a form of matter dif- 
 ferent from his own. 
 
 "Come now, my friend," she added, "would 
 you really advise me not to visit Harry any 
 more?" 
 
 "There are said to be exceptions to all rules," I 
 answered. "At this moment you seem to me to 
 be one of those exceptions." 
 
 "And will you add a postscript to your recent 
 letter to the world?" 
 
 "If I can," I said, "I will tell your story. My 
 readers can draw their own conclusions." 
 
 "Thank you," was her answer. 
 
 "But," I added, "when Henry comes out here 
 in his turn, you two together should go away from 
 the world." 
 
 "Have you been away from the world then?" 
 
 "To some extent. I am only stopping here now 
 until a certain work is finished." 
 
 "And then where are you going?" 
 
 "To visit other planets." 
 
 "Henry and I will do that, too, when he comes 
 out." 
 
A HAPPY WIDOWER 283? 
 
 Now, my friend, I tell you this story for what- 
 ever it is worth. There are cases like hers, where 
 an earthly tie is all-compelling. But in the case of 
 most persons I stand by my original assertion and 
 my original advice. 
 
LETTER LIII 
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL 
 
 I HAVE spoken of a determination to visit 
 other planets when my work of writing these 
 letters is ended ; but I must not neglect to say that 
 I consider such journeys to and fro in the universe 
 of far less spiritual value than those other jour- 
 neys which I have made and shall make into the 
 deep places of my own self. Travelling in actual 
 space and time is important to a man, that he 
 may gain knowledge of other lands and peoples, 
 see the differences between these peoples and him- 
 self, and learn the causes thereof ; yet quiet medi- 
 tation is even a greater factor in growth. If a 
 man whose spiritual perceptions are open can do 
 but one of these two things, it would be better for 
 him to sit in a cabin in the backwoods and seek in 
 his own soul for the secrets which it guards, than 
 to travel without such self-examination to the 
 ends of the earth. 
 
 Get acquainted with your own soul. Know why 
 284 
 
THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL 285 
 
 you do this or that, why you feel this or that. Sit 
 quietly when in doubt about any matter, and let 
 the truth rise from the deeps of yourself. Ex- 
 amine your motives always. Do not say, "I ought 
 to do this act for such and such a reason; there- 
 fore I do it for that reason." Such argument is 
 self-deception. If you do a kind act, ask yourself 
 why. Perhaps you can find even in a kind action 
 a hidden motive of self-seeking. If you should 
 find such a motive, do not deny it to yourself. Ac- 
 knowledge it to yourself, though you need not 
 advertise it on the walls of your dwelling. Such 
 a secret understanding will give you a greater 
 sympathy and comprehension in judging the mo- 
 tives of others. 
 
 Strive always for the ideal; but do not label 
 every emotion as an ideal emotion if it is not 
 really that. Speak the truth to yourself. Until 
 you can dare to do that you will make little pro- 
 gress in the quest of your own soul. 
 
 Between earth lives is a good time to meditate, 
 but one should form the habit of meditation while 
 in the flesh. Habits formed in the flesh have a 
 tendency to continue after the flesh is laid aside. 
 That is a reason why one should keep as free as 
 possible from physical habits. 
 
 If my charming acquaintance who comes every 
 
286 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 night to her husband to write love messages 
 through his hand would spend the greater part of 
 her time in acquiring knowledge of this new 
 world, so that she could enlighten him, then might 
 their communion be an unmixed good; but I fear 
 it is not so. Therefore I shall look for her again, 
 and give her some fatherly advice. She has a 
 quick and receptive mind, and I think she will lis- 
 ten to me. He would be interested in her experi- 
 ences, if for no other reason than because they are 
 hers. Yes, I shall have to find her again. 
 
 I have made wonderful discoveries in the 
 archives of my own soul. There I have found 
 the memories of all my past, back to a time almost 
 unbelievably distant. In seeing how the causes 
 set up in one life have produced their effects in 
 another life, I have learned more than I shall 
 learn on my coming tour of the planets. 
 
 Everything exists in the soul; all knowledge is 
 there. Grasp that idea if you can. The infallible 
 part of us is the hidden part, and it is for us to 
 bring it to light. Do you understand now why I 
 advise the disembodied to break away from the 
 distractions and the dazzling mirages of the 
 earthly life? Only in the stillness of detachment 
 can the soul yield up her secrets. It is not that I 
 am indifferent to earthly loves ; on the contrary, I 
 
THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL 287 
 
 love more deeply than ever all those whom I 
 loved on earth; but I realise that if I can love 
 them wisely instead of unwisely, it will be better 
 both for them and for me. 
 
 Yet the call of the earth is loud sometimes, and 
 my heart answers from this side of the veil. 
 
LETTER LIV 
 
 A FORMULA FOR MASTERSHIP 
 
 MY friend, I am going to leave you for a 
 while — perhaps for a long time. 
 
 It seems to me that my immediate work with 
 the earth is done. I want still further to lighten 
 my load, to soar out upon the waves of ether — 
 far — far — and to forget, in the thrill of explora- 
 tion, that I shall some day have to make my way 
 painfully back to the world through the narrow 
 straits of birth. 
 
 I am going out with the Beautiful Being on a 
 voyage of discovery. My companion has taken 
 this journey before, and can show me the way to 
 many wonders. 
 
 There is a sadness in bidding you good-bye. Do 
 you remember the last time you saw me in my old 
 body? We neither of us thought that afternoon 
 that we should next meet in a foreign country, and 
 under conditions so strange that half the world 
 will doubt that we have ever met again at all, and 
 the other half will wonder if indeed we have 
 really met. 
 
 288 
 
A FORMULA FOR MASTERSHIP 289 
 
 Tell me, was I ever more real to you than I am 
 this evening? While sitting with me in the days 
 of the past, did you ever know less of what I 
 should say a moment afterwards than you know 
 now? Rack your brain as you will, you cannot 
 tell what I am going to talk about. That will 
 prove to you, at least, that I am as real as ever. 
 
 I want to leave a few messages. Tell .... 
 And tell .... And some day tell my boy to 
 live a brave and clean life. He will be watched 
 over. Tell him that if sometimes he feels the in- 
 terior guidance, not to be afraid to trust it. Tell 
 him to look within for light. 
 
 For the present, I have not much more to say 
 to the world at large. But I want you to publish 
 these letters, leaving out only the very personal 
 paragraphs. 
 
 Yes, I may not see you again for a long time. 
 Do not be sad. When I am gone, perhaps an- 
 other will come. 
 
 Do not close the door too tight ; but guard well 
 the door, and let no one enter who has not the 
 signs and passwords. You will not be deceived; 
 I have trained you to that end. 
 
 I cannot write much to-night, for there is a sad- 
 ness in leaving the earth. But I am — or shall be 
 — all a-thrill with the interest of the coming voy^ 
 
29O LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN 
 
 age. Think of it! I shall see far-away planets 
 and meet their inhabitants. Shall I find the 
 "square-faced men" ? Perhaps so. 
 
 In Jupiter, they say, there is a race of beings 
 wonderful to behold. I shall see them. Will they 
 be fairer than our own Beautiful Being, who loves 
 the little earth and usually stays near it, because 
 there are such struggles here? 
 
 The joy of the struggle ! That is the keynote 
 of immortality, the keynote of power. Let this 
 be my final message to the world. Tell them to 
 enjoy their struggles, to thrill at the endless possi- 
 bilities of combination and creation, to live in the 
 moment while preparing for long hence, and not 
 to exaggerate the importance of momentary fail- 
 ures and disappointments. 
 
 When they come out here and get their lives in 
 perspective, they will see that most of their causes 
 of anxiety were trivial, and that all the lights and 
 shadows were necessary to the picture. 
 
 I had my lights and shadows, too, but I regret 
 nothing. The Master enjoys difficulties as a 
 swimmer enjoys the resistance of the water. 
 
 If I could make you realise the power that 
 comes from facing the struggle — not only bravely, 
 as all the platitudinous bores will tell you, but 
 facing it with enjoyment. Why, any healthy boy 
 
A FORMULA FOR MASTERSHIP 29 1 
 
 enjoys a fight. His blood beats fast, his nerves 
 tingle ; but he who keeps his head cool is likely to 
 come out on top. 
 
 Life is a fight. You are in matter to conquer 
 it — lest it conquer you. 
 
 There is nothing in this universe stronger than 
 the will of man when it is directed by a powerful 
 unit of force. Whatever your strength, make the 
 most of it in the battle of life. 
 
 Remember that your opponents are not other 
 men, but conditions. If you fight men, they will 
 fight you back; but if you fight conditions, they, 
 being unintelligent, will yield to you with just 
 enough resistance to keep your muscles in good 
 order. 
 
 And do not forget the law of rhythm — that is 
 at the back of everything. Count on rhythm; it 
 never has failed yet, and it never will. Watch 
 for the high tides of yourself and flow up- with 
 them; when the inevitable low tides come, either 
 rest or meditate. You cannot escape rhythm. 
 You transcend it by working with it. 
 
 You can even turn and grow young, for time 
 also has its tides; and there are many ripples in 
 the long sea-swell of life. 
 
 I feel that I am leaving much unsaid. But I 
 shall meet you again some day. 
 
 
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