class="smcap">The Author.

BEYOND.

CHAPTER I.

In the world of thought to-day, few things are more significant than the extent to which the religious dogmas of the past are being questioned, analyzed, and, in general, made to give account of themselves.

People are discovering that it is lawful to use the mind as a crucible, and to submit any and all statements, irrespective of their age, to the electric current of modern fearlessness of thought, before accepting them as truth.

Scientific formulas, many of them, fare little better, and are made to yield up the kernel of fact they contain, stripped of the husk of theory in which it has long been buried.

For the living truth is demanded such value as we obtain in our own life-experiences, if possible; and whenever this can be obtained without paying the price it costs us in life, of pain, or loss, or a mortgaged future, then, indeed, the demand becomes imperious.

And this has become especially true of late years in regard to things occult. Formerly the boundaries of the earth-life marked the limit of thought and aspiration, and those who seemed to have the widest experience within those bounds were often the loudest in proclaiming their utter failure to find any lasting satisfaction in all that life could give. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, was echoed and re-echoed until the gloomy thought spread like a cloud over the sky, chilling all noble effort, and blighting the aspirations of the young and hopeful. But a brighter day has dawned. These boundaries, which formerly seemed like walls impenetrable, have grown thin and shadowy, and it is astonishing to note how people everywhere are asking, as with open mind, Is this future life we have heard of so long, an actual fact? If so, what is the nature of it? What are its relations to present facts? and how may I obtain a common-sense view of it? Just what are its relations to me, and what are mine to a future life? Where can I obtain clear light on the subject?

This condition of things brings it to pass that a peculiar responsibility rests upon one, like the writer, to whom has been given extraordinary facilities for acquiring the knowledge now so greatly in demand. To relate what those facilities were, how or why given, and what price in the currency of the hidden realm was paid for so much of its treasures as was brought away, might interest the curious, as I have suggested, but it would not materially affect the value of what is to be given. That must stand or fall by its intrinsic worth, not by the circumstances associated with its acquirement.

It may be imparted, however, that this knowledge was obtained at a period separated from the present by an interval of fourteen years, that so momentous were the personal experiences associated therewith, that the few weeks during which they occurred, together with those immediately preceding and following, seem to constitute, as it were, a separate existence, whose length, if it were to be measured by such events as leave their indelible impress on the soul, far exceeds the entire remainder of my life.

That I have kept this knowledge locked up so long has been due to various causes beyond my control, and I am more than glad that I am at last able to put on record some fragments of it, at least, whose value I do not underestimate, although very rarely in the history of the world has it been given out in this way.

CHAPTER II.

Perhaps I cannot open my subject in any better way than by giving a few reasons why a knowledge of The Beyond has remained a sealed book for centuries.

My first reason will not be a very satisfactory one, because I cannot now enter into it as fully as I could wish; but it belongs first, and cannot be omitted. A knowledge of The Beyond has remained hidden from men, first, because those intelligences who were capable of imparting it have refrained from doing so. Some of these intelligences were actuated by selfish motives. They could more easily control those whom they hoped to enslave, by keeping them ignorant. Others have remained silent out of respect for an edict proceeding from a far height at a time when all men were believers in a future state, and so many of them were absorbed in speculating upon it, and holding communications with the departed, that the earth was neglected, and in danger of going to waste. Hence the edict, which was promulgated through the kings who were able themselves to see the need of it.

Another very important reason why this knowledge has remained hidden, is because to embody it in a language appropriate to it, and, at the same time, avoid obscurity, is exceedingly difficult.

Why? Because it belongs to a different world, a world which has no nearer relation to this one than thoughts have to things. To illustrate what I mean by this, suppose you should wake up some night and find yourself in silent darkness and unable to move a muscle. Suppose you could not even feel the bed under you, being conscious only of being supported in a horizontal position. So long as these avenues of sense remained closed, the world of things would not exist to you, and you could not say, of your own knowledge, that it continued to exist for anyone else.

While the situation would be a startling one without doubt, I am going to assume that you would have a sufficient degree of self-control to keep your mental balance. This would be the easier as you discovered that your mental vision was as clear as ever, and that your real self, which is back of all your senses, had received no shock or injury. You would naturally wish to know just what had happened, and it would be apt to disturb you somewhat to find that your reasoning powers failed to respond when you called upon them to solve the problem, as naturally they would, since the brain, with which they do their work, would share the inaction of the body. Now, if the world of things had thus vanished, what could remain? In the first place, memory. You would be able to call up the pictures of the past, and live over again in your mind any scene there depicted. But you would not be confined to living in the past. Although unable to see or to hear, you would be able to assume the mental attitude either of looking or listening, and as you sought to penetrate the gloom of your surroundings, you would be conscious of lifting eyelids which perhaps had never been raised before, and the mystic light of another world would dawn upon you. Shadowy forms of graceful outline would be seen, at first dimly, then with greater clearness. You would not mistake them for mortals, and, having no acquaintance with other-world intelligences, you might take them for moving pictures, destitute of any kind of life.

Presently you would become aware that connected thoughts were passing through your mind, without conscious volition on your part, and assuming the attitude of a listener you would discover that the inner world of sound was opening to you. The subject treated of might not relate to you personally, but you would hail with delight the opportunity to prove yourself in communication with other minds.

Presently some sentiment is expressed which you do