The encyclopaedia of death and life in the spirit-world. Opinions and experiences from eminent sources

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v. / THE.

Encyclopaedia of Death

AND

LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD.

OPINIONS AND EXPERIENCES FROM EMINENT SOURCES.

By xT. R. FRANCI©.

Author pf •• Search After God." " Is the Devil Dead? " «tc

VOLUME I.

(FOURTH EDITION.)

OHIOAQO:

THE PROGRESSIVE THINICER PUBLISHING HOUSE.

T903.

Copyright 1894

BY

J. R. Francis.

AIRY

I/-uRSITY

INTRODUCTION. .

What is Death, which, in all ages of the worm has re-
ceived so much attention from the philosopher, the scientist,
the poet, the metaphysician, the minister of the Gospel, the
king on his throne and the peasant in his humble cottage? It
is almost universally feared — an inherited tendency, probably
— and it rarely takes place, either in the higher or lower walks
of life, that bitter tears are not shed or moans of anguish
manifested by immediate relatives and friends. Its presence
is never courted, only by those who contemplate suicide, and
even they have no adequate conception of its true nature. The
prevalent views of Death entertained by all the orthodox re-
ligious sects, and zealously promulgated from the pulpit, are
erroneous in nearly all respects but this one — it actually oc-
curs.

The higher concept of Death, the one endorsed by all
minds which have left in the rear the austere religious tenets
of the church, and in consequence have stepped to a higher
plane, views it in the light of a grand and glorious change,
through the instrumentality of which the spirit is freed from
its earthly body and environments, and is thereby enabled to
advance to a higher altitude in the spheres of progress. The
main object to be attained in the Encyclopaedia of Death,
AND Life in the Spirit-World, is to so educate the masses that
the last great event in the earthly career of each one will no
longer be regarded with superstitious feelings, but on the con-
trary be looked upon as a beneficent ordinance of Nature,
without which the world would soon be plunged into darkness
and woe.

Death in all its multifarious details will be carefully and
comprehensively treated in the various volumes, and a mass of

INTRODUCTION

important information presented that will prove invaluable to
every reflective person. The thoughts of the most brilliant
minds on both sides of life — mortals and spirits — will be given
in order to fully elucidate the process of dying, and thus con-
vince humanity that the change is not one to be dreaded. Of
course, the experiences of spirits in the higher life differ widely,
yet they speak from their respective standpoints and environ-
ments, and impart what to them is absolute truth.

T^e ]V[ytbieal Origir) of Death).

As is well known, a myth is a fabulous or imaginary state-
ment or narrative conveying an important truth, generally of

a moral or religious nature; an
allegory, religious or histori-
cal, of spontaneous growth and
c~--,^se^^ vvw^^imv^^^s. ^ popular origin, generally in-

^ r^r^/^^^ /^SlSil^^^^^^ ^°^^^^S some supernatural or

superhuman claim of power ; a
tale of some extraordinary per-
sonage or country that has been
gradually formed by, or has
grown out of, the admiration
and veneration of successive
generations — Webster.

In consequence of the great
age of mankind and the pre-
vailing ignorance that existed
throughout the world in times
past, myths have become ex-
IP^'ceedingly numerous, and hav-
ing been very important factors
in the formation of national
characters as well as in shap-
ing the destinies of individuals,
they now survive simply as rel-
ics of the baneful influences
that evolved them. The myths of ancient times now consti-
tu-te the attic rubbish of modern literature, of no substantial
use to humanity, only so far as they illustrate the peculiar na-
ture and idiosyncrasies of those who were wholly unable to
comprehend even ' the simple' radimefit'S of" modern advan'ce'

mm # m
DEATH WALKING THE EARTH.

8 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

ment. Myth and Superstition are boon companions. They
are never separate in any kingdom, empire, or nationahty.
They exist simply because ignorance has enthroned them as
factors in the Hves and destinies of people, where they exert a
commanding influence.

The myths of the origin of death are indeed numerous,
and many of them are regarded as sacred, even in this nine-
teenth century. Christians, if they desire to thoroughly un-
derstand the mysteries of Divine Providence, have recourse to
the Bible, considering it in all respects as infallible authority.
Its statements, however, with reference to the introduction of
sin into the world and the origin of death, are not very satis-
factory, even to those who tacitly admit its truthfulness ; while
to many others they only constitute a simple myth, and are in
no sense regarded as of divine origin. Thus we are told in the
* 'Union Bible Dictionary" that by the transgression of God's
commandments our first parents became liable to death. The
dire threatening was: *'In the day that thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die. " The unfortunate pair, however, did
not succumb immediately to the calamitous prediction, but
their eventful earth-life was so prolonged that they were en-
abled to rear two sons — Cain and Abel. Of course, the un-
happy introduction of death into the world, as blandly set
forth in the Bible, would not be a pleasant myth to contem-
plate unless frequent allusions were made thereto. Hence the
question is asked: ''Have the gates of Death been opened unto
thee?" (Job xxxviii.,17). "Have mercy unto me, O Lord;
consider my trouble which I suffer of them that hate me; thou
that liftest me up from the gates of Death" (Psalms ix.,13).
''Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat; and they draw near
unto the gates of death" (Psalms cvii.,18).

The myth of the origin of death commences its historic life
with the statement that a certain apple-tree existed in a beau-
tiful garden, which was made directly by God himself. One
would naturally infer from the statement that it must have
been a very enchanting place ; its fruits luscious, its flowers
beautiful, its atmosphere pure and its animals kind, loving and
gentle. But there was one tree — "the Tree of Knowledge of
Good and Evil" — that possessed, it was naively proclaimed,
certain miraculous properties which, if absorbed by Adam and
Kve, would change their natures throughout. This makes the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 9

myth of the origin of Death far more interesting than it would
otherwise have been. The allusions also to the "gates of
death" seem to convey the idea that connected therewith are
vast fields where the liberated soul can wander, and behold
the grandeur and goodness of God.

Myths, like everything else, are slowly evolved. They
blossom, beautifully or otherwise, under the repeated manipu-
lation of succeeding generations, each extending them here
and there until they are complete and ready to be embodied in
history. There is a poetical gleam in the expression — ''gates
of death" — and one is inclined to ask: May there not be a
place of ingress and exit in the climes eiysian, and why not
the imagination assign thereto a pearly gate ? In the tedious
process of the evolution of this myth, ignorance, of course,
was the prime factor. Everything of supernal origin or ex-
istence must be brought within the purview of rude, untutored
minds, by associating therewith objects of a sublunary na-
ture. Believing that there existed a passageway between
earth and heaven, they associated therewith a "gate of death,"
thus assisting in evolving a myth with reference to the passage
of the spirit heavenward.

The Bible myth of the origin of death starts out with the
inference that its introduction into the world was a dire calam-
ity, hence it has connected therewith a "dark shadow." "Let
darkness and the shadow of death stain it." "Before I go
whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and
the shadow of death" (Job x. ,21). "My face is foul with
weeping and on my eyelids is the shadow of death" (Job
xvi.,16). "He setteth an end to darkness, and searcheth out
all perfection ; the stones of darkness and the shadow of
death" (Job xxviii. ,3). "Hast thou seen the doors of the
shadow of death?" (Job xxxviii.,17). "Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil"
(Psalms xxiii.,4). "Though thou hast sore broken us in the
place of dragons, and covered us with the shadow of death"
(Psalms xliv. ,19). "Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow
of death, being bound in affliction and iron." (Psalms cvii. ,10).
"The people that walked in darkness have seen a ^reat light;
they that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them
hath the light shined" (Isaiah ix.,2). "Neither said they:
Where is the Lord that brought us up out of the -land of

lO THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

Egypt, that led us through the wilderness, through a land of
deserts and pits, through a land of drought and of the shadow
of death" (Jer. ii.,6). "Give glory to the Lord your God, be-
fore he causes darkness, and before your feet stumble upon
the dark mountains, and while ye look for light, He turns it
into the shadow of death, and makes it gross darkness'* (Jer.
xiii. ,i6).

A myth with reference to the origin of death having once
been established, the ''gates of death" and the ''shadow of
death" soon followed. The Bible is profuse in statements that
add great interest to this myth, and which show conclusively
that the ancients were supremely ignorant and superstitious,
and understood very little of the benign action of natural laws.
They did not consider that death is as natural as birth ; that
growth and decay are common to all things, hence their in-
nate superstition in the course of time evolved a ver}^ interest-
ing myth, and in connection therewith they actually represent
the Lord as saying: "I have healed these waters; there shall
not be from thence any more death or barren land."

Death having been introduced into the world through the
instrumentality of a peculiar tree, over which God exercised
an especial guardianship, it would be natural for the highly
imaginative ancients to represent Him and others as talking in
a variety of ways with reference to the final change common to
all humanity. In Job xviii. ,13, this highly figurative expression
maybe found: "It shall devour the strength of his skin; even
the first-born of death shall devour his strength." It would
be exceedingly difficult to determine the exact meaning of that
passage of scripture. The myth of the origin of death seems
to grow more mythical as statements are perused bearing on
the subject in the Bible. "Those that remain of him shall be
buried in death" (Job xxvii.,15), conveys nothing intelligible
to the scrutinizing student; but when the solemn assertion is
made (Psalms xlix.,14), that "Like sheep they are laid in the
grave; death shall feed on them," one is very much surprised
at the exceeding great variety of uses to which this word death
can be applied. To be "buried in death" would not suffice
the ancient Psalmist, hence he quaintly ordains that "death
shall feed on them," and then asks the question: "What man
is he that liveth and shall not see death?" Of course the mul-
titudinous play of words with reference to the myth of th.e'dri-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. ii

gin of death would not be complete nor satisfactory unless
brought into juxtaposition to love, hence in Proverbs viii.,36,
the following presents itself: *'A11 they that hate me, love
death." Death, too, must have a well-defined locality, hence
we find in Proverbs vii.,27, the '^chambers of death," which
are mysteriously associated with the route to hell. But it is
exceedingly pleasant to contemplate that (Prov. xii. ,28), ''In
the way of righteousness is life, and in the pathway thereof
there is no death ;" but one becomes exceedingly sad in realiz-
ing the painful fact that no human being ever traversed that
pathway sufficiently to escape the ordeal common to all hu-
manity, even though to him (Prob. xiv.,12), * 'There is a way
which seemeth right, but the end thereof are the ways of
death."

Death is certainly a very important factor in the provi-
dence of God, and it is not strange that it should be brought
into requisition whereby (Romans v. ,10), "we were reconciled
to God by the death of his son." Death having originated in
such a peculiar way, it must necessarily play an active part in
the redemption of the race, or otherwise the "myth of the ori-
gin of death" would lose much of its interest. "Wherefore,
as by one man sin entered into the world and death by sin, and
so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned. For
until the law sin was in the world, but sin is not imputed
when there is no law. Nevertheless death reigned from Adam
to Moses, even over them that had not sinned after the simili-
tude of Adam's transgression, who is the figure of him that
was to come" (Romans v. ,12,13,14).

Though the above is involved in great obscurity, its mean-
ing leading no one knows whither, it may be gratifying to
aome to know (Rom. vi.,5), that "if we have been planted to-
gether in the likeness of death, we shall be also in the likeness
of his resurrection." It was quite natural for the rude, super-
stitious and uncultured ancients to regard death with unmin-
gled awe, hence the expression (I. Cor. xv., 26), "The last ene-
my that shall be destroyed is death." And being a dire enemy
what would be more natural than the statement (I.Cor.xv.,-
54): "So, when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption,
and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be
Drought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed
up in victory," In this connection it may be a surprise to some

12 TITE EN'CYCLOP.^DTA OF DEATH

that as .doors, vaults, etc., have keys, the history of this
word death would not be complete without one, too, hence we
have the statement (Rev. i.,i8): ^'I am he that liveth and was
dead; and, behold, I am alive forevermore, amen; and have
the keys of hell and death."

The ancients were remarkably ingenious in the employ-
ment of this word death, not only alluding to the keys belong-
ing thereto, but asserting (Isaiah xxviii. ,15): "We have made
a covenant with death" — conveying the idea that death is a
personage capable of counseling with men and entering into a
contract wherein specific action is expressly stipulated*
Being ignorant of the real character of death, and not suppos-
ing for a moment it is a beneficent ordinance of nature, they
allude to it in connection with mundane affairs in a very singu-
lar manner. ''And I will kill her children with death" (Rev.
ii. ,23), as if death could be used as an effective external instru-
ment in causing death. Again the startling announcement is
made (Rev. vi.,8): ''And I looked, and behold a pale horse,
and his name that sat on him was Death." As if there can be
more than one death, it is stated (Exodus x.,17): "Now, there-
fore, forgive, I pray thee, my sin only this once, and entreat
your God, that He may take away from me this death only."
Death, too, is represented as a personage (Jer. ix.,21): "For
Death is come up unto our windows and is entered into our
palaces to cut off the children from without, and the young
men from the streets." Death is also alluded to as possessing
snares (Psalms xviii. ,5).

It is now believed by Christians generally that the account
in Genesis, of the fall of man and the subsequent introduction
of death into the world, should not be construed literal^. The
enlightened judgment of Christendom at the present time is
that death is an ordinance of nature, a beneficent measure on
the part of Divine Providence, and that whatever allusion is
made thereto in the Bible, must be regarded as figurative illus-
trations by those who, though undoubtedly inspired, infused
their own fancies and predictions in a great deal of their speak-
ing and writing, which, it is claimed, was inspired by God
Himself.

Death is simpl}^ one beneficent stage of nature, controlled
by Divine Providence, whereby an enlarged sphere of exist-
ence is disclosed to the aspiring soul, and of which the an-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD, 13

cients caught faint glimpses in dreams and visions, and which
induced the drawing of weird pictures and rude metaphors of
death on their part. *'0 death, I will be thy plagues" (Hosea
xiii. ,14), might have been considered a brilliant metaphor or
figure of speech by those of olden times, but to the modern
thinker it conveys no intelligible idea or lesson.

MYTHS OF THE ORIGIN OF DEATH.

I have introduced these few examples of marvelous super-
stition in order to illustrate the exceeding large vein of credu-
lity that permeates human nature, distorting it and giving rise
to Myths of the Origin of Death.*

The problems of the mythologist are to account, if he
can, first for the origin and next for the distribution of myths.
Plainly the myths of men must have their source in certain
conditions of the human intellect. That these conditions do
not exist in full force among civilized men is obvious enough,
because men of all civilizations, Egyptian, Hindoo, and Greek,
have been as much puzzled as we modern peoples are to ac-
count for the origin of m3'ths. The mental conditions, there-
fore, which naturally and necessarily produce myths must be
strange, on the whole, to civilized men. We are, therefore,
led to ask whether this mental stage has not existed, and
whether it does not still exist, among the mere backward
races, savages as we rather indiscriminately call them. If we
do find widely prevalent among the lower races a condition
of thought which would necessarily beget the myths of the
lower races, and if among the upper races myths similar in
character be traced, the problem of the mythologist will be
partially solved. Myths, or certain m.yths, will be the pro-
ductions of the human mind in the savage state; and when
these legends occur among civilized races, they will either be
survivals from savagery or narratives borrowed from savages.

Let us apply this system to a single case; namely, to the
myths concerning the origin of death.

Now, it is plain enough that civilized men, in a scientific
age, would never dream of inventing a story to account for
so necessary and inevitable an incident as death. ''AH men
are mortal," is the very type among us of a universal affirma-
tive statement, and how men come to be mortal needs no ex-

* Andrew Lang^ Ph. /)., London, in Princeton lievitui.

J 4 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

planation. So the case seems to civilized and scientific man.
But his own children have not attained to his belief in death.
The certainty and universality of death do not enter into the
thoughts of our little ones.

Now, there are still many tribes of men who practically
disbelieve in death. To them death is always a surprise and
an accident, an unnecessary, irrelevant intrusion on the living
world. "Natural deaths are, by many tribes, regarded as su-
pernatural," says Mr. Tylor. These tribes have no concep-
tion of death as the inevitable, eventful obstruction and cessa-
tion of the powers of the bodily machine ; the stopping of the
pulses and processes of life by violence or decay or disease.
To persons who regard death thus, his intrusion into the world
(for death, of course, is thought to be a person) stands in great
need of explanation. That explanation, as usual, is given in
myths. But before studying these widely different myths, let
us first establish the fact that death really is regarded as some-
thing non-naturai and intrusive. The modern savage readily
believes in and accounts, in a scientific way, for violent deaths.
The spear or club breaks or crushes a hole in a man, and his
soul flies out. But the deaths he disbelieves in are statural
deaths. These he is obliged to explain as produced by some
supernatural cause, generally the action of malevolent spirits
impelled by witches. Thus the savage holds that, violence
apart and the action of witches apart, man would even now be
immortal. ^' There are rude races of Australia and South
America," writes Mr. Tylor, ''whose intense belief in witchcraft
has led them to declare that if men were never bewitched,
and never killed by violence, t/iey would never die at all. Like
the Australians, the Africans will inquire of their dead 'what
sorcerer slew them by his wicked arts.'" "The natives," says
Sir George Grey, speaking of the Australians, "do not believe
that there is such a thing as death from natural causes." On
the death of an Australian native from disease, a kind of mag-
ical coroners inquest is held by the conjurers of the tribe, and
the direction in which the wizard lives who slew the dead man
is ascertained by the movements of worms and insects. The
process is described at full length by Mr. Brough Smyth in
his "Aborigines of Victoria." Turning from Australia to
Hindostan, we find that the Puwarrees (according to Heber's
narrative) attribute all natural deaths to a supernatural cause ;

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. 15

namely, witchcraft. That is, the Puwarrees do not yet believe
in the universality and necessity of death. He is an intruder
brought by magic arts into our living world. Again, in his
'* Ethnology of Bengal," Dalton tells us that the Hos (an ab-
original non-Aryan race) are of the same opinion as the Puwar-
rees. ''They hold that all disease in men or animals is attrib-
utable to one of two causes: the wrath of some evil spirit or
the spell of some witch or sorcerer. These superstitions are
common to all classes of the population of this province." In
the New Hebrides disease and death are caused, as Mr. Cod-
rington found, by taniates, or ghosts. In New Caledonia, ac-
cording to Erskine, death is the result of witchcraft practiced
by members of a hostile tribe, for who would be so wicked as
to bewitch his fellow-tribesman ? The Andaman Islanders at-
tribute all natural deaths to the supernatural influence of e i-eu
cliaugala, or \.o jura-win, two spirits of the jungle and the sea.
The death is avenged by the nearest relation of the deceased,
who shoots arrows at the invisible enemy. The negroes of
Central Africa entertain precisely similar ideas about the non-
naturalness of death. Mr. Duff Macdonald, in his recent
book, ''Africana," writes : ''Every man who dies what we call
a natural death is really killed by witches." It is a far cry from
the Blantyre Mission in Africa to the Eskimo of the frozen
north. But so uniform is human nature in the lower races
that the Eskimo precisely agree, as far as theories of death go,
with the Africans, the aborigines of India, the Andaman
Islanders, the Australians, and the rest. Dr. Rink found that
"sickness or death coming about in an accidental manner was
always attributed to witchcraft, and it remains a question
whether death on the whole was not originally accounted for
as resulting from magic." It is needless to show how these
ideas survived into civilization. Bishop Jewell, denouncing
witches before Queen Elizabeth, was, so far, mentally on a
level with the Eskimo and the Australian. The familiar and
voluminous records of trials for witchcraft, whether at Salem
or at Edinburgh, prove that all abnormal and unwonted deaths
and diseases, in animals or in men, were explained by our an-
cestors as the results of supernatural mischief.

It has been made plain (and the proof might be enlarged
tq any extent) that the savage does not regard death as " God's
:<xeat ordinance," universal and inevitable and natural. But,

T 6 THE ENC YCL OPyEDIA OE DEA TH

being curious and inquisitive, he cannot help asking himself:
''How did this terrible invader first enter a world where he
now appears so often?" This is, properly speaking, a scien-
tific question; but the savage answers it, not by collecting
facts and generalizing from them, but by inventing a myth.
This is his invariable habit. Does he want to know why this
tree has red berries, why that animal has brown stripes, why
this bird utters its peculiar cry, where fire came from, why a
constellation is grouped in one way or another, why his race
of men differs from the whites, — in all these, and in all other
intellectual perplexities, the savage invents a story to solve the
problem. Stories about the origin of death are, therefore,
among the commonest fruits of the savage imagination. As
those legends have been produced to meet the same want by
persons in a very similar mental condition, it inevitably follows
that they all resemble each other with considerable closeness.
We need not conclude that all the nwths we are about to
examine came from a single original source, or were handed
about, with flint arrow-heads, seeds, shells, beads, and weap-
ons, in the course of savage commerce. Borrowing of this
sort may, or rather must, explain many difficulties as to the
diffusion of some myths. But the myths with which we are
concerned now, the myths of the origin of death, might con-
ceivably have been separately developed by simple and igno-
rant men seeking to discover an answer to the same problem.
The myths of the origin of death fall into a few catego-
ries. In many legends of the lower races men are said to have
become subject to mortality because they infringed some
mystic prohibition or taboo of the sort which is common among
untutored peoples. The apparently untrammeled Polynesian,
or Australian, or African, is really the slave of countless tradi-
tions which forbid him to eat this object or to touch that, or
to speak to such and such a person, or to utter this or that
word. Races in this curious state of ceremonial subjection
often account for death as the punishment imposed for break-
ing some taboo. In other cases, death is said to have been
caused by a sin of omission, not of commission. People who
have a complicated and minute ritual (like so many of the
lower races) persuade themselves that death burst on the world
when some passage of the ritual was first omitted, or when
some custom was first infringed. Yet again, death is fabled to

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 17

have first claimed us for his victims in consequence of the
erroneous delivery of a favorable message from some powerful
supernatural being, or because of the failure of some enter-
prise which would have resulted in the overthrow of death, or
by virtue of a pact or covenant between death and the gods.
Thus it will be seen that death is often (though by no means
invariably) the penalty of infringing a command, or of indulg-
ing in a culpable curiosity. But there are cases, as we shall
see, in which death, as a tolerably general law, follows on a
mere accident. Some one is accidentally killed, and this
*' gives death a lead" (as they say in the hunting-field) over the
fence which had hitherto severed him from the world of living
men. It is to be observed, in this connection, that the first
of men who died is usually regarded as the discoverer of a
hitherto *' unknown country," the land beyond the grave, to
which all future men must follow him. Bin dir Woor, among
the Australians, was the first man who suffered death, and he
(like Yama in the Vedic myth) became the Columbus of the
new world of the dead.

Let us now examine in detail a few of the savage stories
of the origin of death. That told by the Australians may be
regarded with suspicion, as a refraction from a careless hear-
ing of the narrative in Genesis. The legend printed by Mr.
Brough Smyth was told to Mr. Bulwer by ^'a black fellow far
from sharp," and this black fellow may conceivably have dis-
torted what his tribe had heard from a missionary. This sort
of refraction is not uncommon, and we must always guard our-
selves against being deceived by a savage corruption of a Bib-
lical narrative. Here is the myth, such as it is: ''The first
created man and woman were told" (by whom we do not
learn) '*not to go near a certain tree in which a bat lived. The
bat was not to be disturbed. One day, however, the woman
was gathering fire-wood, and she went near thei tree. The bat
flew away, and after that came death." More evidently genu-
ine is the following legend of how death ''got a lead" into the
Australian world: "The child of the first man was wounded.
If his parents could heal him, death would never enter the
world. They failed. Death came." The w^ound, in this leg-
end, was inflicted by a supernatural being. Here death acts
on the principle ce rC est que le premier pas qui coute, and the
premier pas was made easy for him. We may continue to ex-

i8 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

amine the stories \\l)ich account for death as the result of
breaking a taboo. The Ningphos of Bengal say they were orig-
inally immortal. They were forbidden to bathe in a certain
pool of water. Some one, greatly daring, bathed, and, ever
since, Ningphos have been subject to death. The infringement,
not of a taboo, but of a custom, caused death in one of the
many Melanesian myths on this subject. Men and women
had been practically deathless because they cast their old
skins at certain intervals. But a grandmother had a favorite
grandchild who failed to recognize her when she appeared as
?. young woman in her new skin. With fatal good-nature the
grandmother put on her old skin again, and instantly men lost
the art of skin-shifting, and death finally seized them.

The Greek myth of the origin of death is the most im-
portant of those which turn on the breaking of a prohibition.
The story has unfortunately become greatly confused in the
various poetical forms which have reached us. As far as can
be ascertained, death was regarded in one early Greek myth
as the punishment of indulgence in forbidden curiosity. Men
appear to have been free from death before the quarrel be-
tween Zeus and Prometheus. In consequence of this quarrel
Hephaestus fashioned a woman out of earth and water, and
gave her to Epimetheus, the brother of the Titan. Prome
theus had forbidden his brother to accept any gift from the
gods, but the bride was welcomed nevertheless. She brought
her magical coffer; this was opened; and men who, according to
Hesiod, had hitherto lived exempt frcxm ''maladies that bring
down fate," were overwhelmed with the ''diseases that stalk
abroad by night and day." Now, in Hesiod (Works and Days,
70-100) there is nothing said about unholy curiosit3^ Pandora
simply opened her casket and scattered its fatal contents. But
Philodemus assures us that, according to a variant of the
myth, it was Epimetheus who opened the forbidden coffer,
whence came death.

Leaving the myths which turn on the breaking of a taboo,
and reserving for consideration the New Zealand story, iu
which the origin of death is the neglect of a ritual process, let
us look at some African myths of the origin of death. It is to
be observed that in these (as in all the myths of the most back-
ward races) many of the characters are not gods, but animals.

The Bushman story lacks the beginning. The mother c*-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. ^9

the little hare was lying dead, but we do not know how she
came to die. The moon then struck the little hare on the lip,
cutting it open, and sa3ang: "Cry loudly, for your mother will
not return, as /do, but is quite dead." In another version
the moon promises that the old hare will return to life, but the
little hare is sceptical, and is hit in the mouth as before. The
Hottentot myth makes the moon send the hare to men with
the message that they will revive as he (the moon) does. But
the hare ''loses his memory as he runs" (to quote the French
proverb which may be based on a form of this very tale), and
the messenger brings the tidings that men shall surely die and
never revive. The angry moon then burns a hole in the hare's
mouth. In yet another Hottentot version the hare's failure to
deliver the message correctly caused the death of the moon's
mother (Bleek, ''Bushman Folklore"). In this last variant
we have death as the result of a failure or transgression.
Among the more backward natives of South India (Lewin's
"Wild Races of South India") the serpent is concerned, in a
suspicious way, with the origin of death. The following leg-
end might so easily arise from a confused understanding of the
Mohammedan or Biblical narrative that it is of little value for
our purpose. At the same time, even if it is only an adapta-
tion, it shows the characteristics of the adapting mind. God
had made the world, trees, and reptiles, and then set to work
to make man out of clay. A serpent came and devoured the
still inanimate clay images while God slept. The serpent still
comes and bites us all, and the end is death. If God never
slept, there would be no death. The snake carries us off
while God is asleep. But the oddest part of this myth re-
mains. Not being able always to keep awake, God made a
dog to drive away the snake by barking. And that is why dogs
always howl when men are at the point of death. Here we
have our own rural superstition about howling dogs twisted
into a South Indian myth of the origin of death. The intro-
duction of death by a pure accident recurs in a myth of Cen-
tral Africa reported by Mr. Duff MacDonald. There was a
time when the man blessed by Sancho Panza had not yet '* in-
vented sleep." A woman it was who came and offered to in-
struct two men in the still novel art of sleeping. ''She held
the nostrils of one, and he never awoke at all," and since then
the art of dying has been facile.

20 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DjEATJI

A not unnatural theory of the origin of death is illustrated
by a myth from Pentecost Island and a Red Indian myth. In
the legends of very many races we find the attempt to account
for the origin of evil by a simple dualistic myth. There were
two brothers who made things ; one made things well, the
other made them ill. In Pentecost Island it was Tagar who
made things well, and he appointed that men should die for
five days only, and live again. But the malevolent Suque
caused men "to die right out." Th6 Red Indian legend of the
same character is printed in the ''Annual Report of the Bureau
of Ethnology" (1879-80), p. 45. The younger of the Cin-
au-av brothers said : ''When a man dies, send him back in
the morning and let all his friends rejoice. " "Not so," said
the elder; "the dead shall return no more." So the younger
brother slew the child of the elder, and this was the beginning
of death.

There is another and a very quaint myth of the origin of
death in Banks Island. At first, in Banks Island, as else-
where, men were immortal. The economical results were just
what might have been expected. Property became concen-
trated in the hands of a few, — that is, of the first generations,
— while all the younger people v/ere practically paupers. To
heal the disastrous social malady, Qat (the maker of things,
who was more or less a spider), sent for Mate — that is, Death.
Death lived near a volcanic crater of a mountain, where there
is now a byway into Hades, or Panoi, as the Melanesians call
it. Death came and went through the empty forms of a fu-
neral feast for himself. Tangaro, the Fool, was sent to watch
Mate, and to see by what way he returned to Hades, that men
might avoid that path in future. Now, when Mate fled to his
own place, this great Fool, Tangaro, noticed the path, but forgot
which it was and pointed it out to men under the impression
that it was the road to the upper, not the under, world. Ever
since that day men have been constrained to follow Mate's
path to Panoi and the dead. Another myth is somewhat dif-
ferent, but, like this one, attributes death to the imbecility of
Tangaro, the Fool. The New Zealand myth of the origin of
death is pretty well known, as Mr. Tylor has seen in it the
remnants of a solar myth, and has given it a "solar" explana-
tion. It is an audacious thing to differ from so cautious and
learned an anthropologist as Mr. Tylor, but the writer ven-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 21

tures to give his reasons for dissenting, in this case, from the
view of the author of ''Primitive Culture." Maui is the great
hero of Maori mythology. He was not precisely a god, still less
was he one of the early elemental gods, yet we can scarcely re-
gard him as a man. He rather answers to one of the race of
Titans, and especially to Prometheus, the son of a Titan.
Maui was prematurely born, and his mother thought the child
would be no credit to her already numerous and promising
family. She therefore (as native women too often did in the
South Sea Islands) tied him up in her long tresses and tossed
him out to sea. The gales brought him back to shore ; one of
his grandparents carried him home, and he became much the
most illustrious and successful of his household. So far Maui
had the luck which so commonly attends the youngest and
least considered child in folklore and mythology. This fea-
ture in his myth may be a result of the very widespread cus-
tom of jungsten i?^<r/?/ (Borough English), by which the youngest
child is heir, at least, of the family hearth. Now, unluckily, at
the baptism of Maui (for a pagan form of baptism is a Maori
ceremony) his father omitted some of the Karakias, or ritual
utterances proper to be used on such occasions. This was the
fatal original mistake whence came man's liability to death,
for hitherto men had been immortal. So far, what is there
"solar" about Maui? Who are the Sun's brethren, — and
Maui had many ? How could the Sun catch the Sun in a
snare, and beat him so as to make him lame ? This was one
of Maui's feats, for he meant to prevent the Sun from running
too fast through the sky. Maui brought fire, indeed, from
the under world, as Prometheus stole it from the upper world,
but many men and many beasts do as much as the myths of
the world, and it is hard to see how the exploit gives Maui ''a
solar character." Maui invented barbs for hooks and other
appurtenances of early civilization, with which the sun has no
more to do than with patent safety-matches. His last feat was
to attempt to secure human immortality forever. There are va-
rious legends on this subject. Some say Maui noticed that the
sun and moon rose again from their daily death, by virtue of a
fountain in Hades (Hine-nui-te-po) where they bathed. Oth-
ers say he wished to kill Hine-nui-te-po (conceived of as a
woman) and to carry off her heart. Whatever the reason,
Maui was to be swallowed up in the giant frame of Hades, or

22 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

Night, and if he escaped alive, death would never have power
over men. He made the desperate adventure, and would have
succeeded but for the folly of one of the birds which accom-
panied him. This little bird, which sings at sunset, burst out
laughing inopportunely, wakened Hine-nui-te-po, and she
crushed to death Maui and all hopes of earthly immortality.
Had he only come forth alive men would have been deathless.
Now, except that the bird which laughed sings at sunset, what
is there "solar" in all this? The sun does daily what Maui
failed to do, passes through darkness and death back into
light and life. Not only does the sun daily succeed where
Maui failed, but (Taylor's " New Zealand ") it was his observa-
tion of this fact which encouraged Maui to risk the adventure.
If Maui were the sun we should all be immortal, for Maui's
ordeal is daily achieved by the sun. But Mr. Tylor says
(''Primitive Culture," i. 336): "It is seldom that solar char-
acteristics are more distinctly marked in the several details of
a myth than they are here." To us the characteristics seem to
be precisely the reverse of solar. Throughout the cycle of
Maui he is constantly set in direct opposition to the sun, and
the very point of the final legend is that what the sun could do
Maui could not. Literally, the one common point between
Maui and the sun is that the little bird, the tiwakawaka, which
sings at the daily death of day, sang at the eternal death of
Maui. It will very frequently be found that the "solar hero"
of mythologists is no more solar than Maui was a photogra-
pher.

Without pausing to consider the Tongan myth of the ori-
gin of death, we may go on to investigate the legends of the
Aryan races. According to the Satapatha Brahmana, death
was made, like the gods and other creatures, by a being named
Prajapati. Now, of Prajapati half was mortal, half was im-
mortal. With this mortal half he feared death, and concealed
himself from death in earth and water. Death said to the
gods: "What hath become of him who created us ?" They
answered: " Fearing thee hath he entered the earth. " The
gods and Prajapati now freed themselves from the dominion
of death by celebrating an enormous number of sacrifices.
Death was chagrined by their escape from the "nets and
clubs" which he carries in the Aitareya Brahmana. "As you
have escaped me, so will men also escape," he grumbled. The

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 23

^ods appeased him in the promise that, in the body, no man
henceforth forever, should invade death. ' ' Every one who is
become immortal shall do so by first parting with his body."
Among the Aryans of India, as we have already seen, death
has a protomartyr, Yama, '* the first of men who reached the
river, spying out a path for many" (Atharva Neda, vi.283).
Here Yama corresponds to Tangaro, the Fool, in the myth of
the Soloman Islands. But Yama is not regarded as a malefi-
cent being like Tangaro. The Rig Veda (x. 14) speaks of him
as ''King Yama, who departed to the mighty streams and
sought out a road for many;" and again, the Atharva Veda
names him ''the first of men who died, and the first who de-
parted to the celestial world." With him the Blessed Fathers
dwell forever in happiness. Mr. Max MuUer, however, takes
Yama to be "a character suggested by the setting sun," a
claim which is also put forward, as we have seen, for the
Maori hero Maui. It is Yama, according to the Rig Veda,
who sends the birds (a pigeon is one of his messengers) as
warnings of approaching death. Among the Iranian race Yima
appears to have been the counterpart of the Vedic Yama. He
is now King of the Blessed ; originally he was the first of men
over whom death won his earliest victory. With this victory
are vaguely connected legends of a serpent who killed King
Yima, in punishment, apparently, of a sin. But it is hard to
trace this myth in any coherent shape among the sacred books
of the Iranian religion.

We have now hastily examined some typical instances of
myths of the origin of death. Our point is proved if it be ad-
mitted that such myths would naturally arise only among races
which have not the scientific conception of the nature and
universality of death. It has been shown that the death myths
of savages do correspond with their prevalent conceptions of
the nature of death, and it is inferred that the similar myths of
Greeks, Hindoos, and Persians, are either survivals from the
time when these races were uncivilized, or are examples of
borrowing from uncivilized peoples. This theory of myths has
no jeal novelty, being precisely that by which Eusebius, in his
"Prseparatio Evangelica," replied to the various philosophical
and moral theories of the contemporary pagan Greeks. "Your
myths began," Eusebius argues, ''when your ancestors knew
neither law nor civilization. You have never ventured to lay

24 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

aside these ancient stories, of which you are now ashamed, as
you show by your various apologetic explanations, none of
which have the advantage of agreeing with each other." Thus
the ancient Father actually anticipated the latest results of
modern comparative science.

TKe Spiritaal jflivalysis oF iKe CKaa^e

Called DeatK.

SPIRITS TAKE POSSESSION OF A DYING BODY.
Several years ago a most remarkable phenomenon* oc-
curred at Lawrence Mass. Susie M. Smith, a young lady
about seventeen 3^ears of age, daughter of Dr. Greenleaf Smith,
after a short illness, apparently died at six oclock in the
evening ; and from that time until the following Friday at
twelve o'clock, the body was controlled in part by other spir-
its. On Wednesday, the day of her death, she said: ** Father,
I've attended my own funeral." She described it as very real ;
declared herself as perfectly conscious of what she was saying,
and also spoke of singing, and gave the names of hymns she
had heard.

She continued rational during the day, when, finally, about
six o'clock, she passed into violent spasms ; a gradual pale-
ness overspread her face from the forehead ; she became
speechless, closed her eyes, and, to the senses of those about
her bedside, life was extinct. Indeed, there seemed to be no
question about it. The reader is aware how a loving heart re-
fuses to believe its companion has departed this life, how it
hopes against hope almost to the tomb. So with the father,
mother, brother and sister gathered around the bedside. The
body had the unmistakable death-damp on its face.

Many minutes had elapsed, when suddenly, to the inde-
scribable surprise of all in the room, came a deep gruff, voice,
the parted and moving lips of the body indicating its where-
abouts, which said: <'Rub both of her arms as hard as you

can."

* A writer In " Spiritual Scientist. »

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD,

25

'^^^va^^o^V

DEATH AND LIFE ETERNAL CONTRASTED.

Without a second bidding, and recovering from their sur-
prise, the command was obeyed, when came a second voice:
''Raise her up. " This was done, when she breathed natur-
ally, but did not speak for a few moment.

Dr. Smith now sat behind the body, holding it up, when
the controlling influence again spoke, in another voice : ''If I
could move her legs around so that I could set her up on the

26 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

foot-board, she'd be all right." The doctor was preparing to
carry this suggestion into effect, when he, with the body, was
actually taken, lifted from their positions together, and both
placed upon the foot-board by some unseen power.

The body was now possessed by a spirit, cheerful, lively,
and not unlike its natural occupant. The doctor was about to
ask if she hadn't better be laid back, when the same force
again lifted them, carried them both backwards, he to his feet,
she falling to her first position in bed, apparently again as
dead as could possibly be. A few moments elapsed ; the
doubt was settling into a certainty, when a mild voice opened a
conversation which continued three hours, and during this time
acknowledging that the body had been controlled by spirits.
A trance sleep followed. The next morning the eyes opened
and a spirit, controlling her organism, asked: ^'Who am I,
anyway?" The *doctor replied: ^'You are Susie Smith."
*'No I ain't; Susie Smith died last night." And this opinion
the controlling influence maintained. Friday the symptoms
were again worse ; there were several fainting spells and they
were severe ones, but after twelve o'clock there w^ere no indi-
cations of life. The next morning, while in a lower room, and
endeavoring to decide where to lay the body, an apparition, or
Susie Smith, as the incredulous or credulous will have it,
walked into the room with plain footsteps, and said : "Right
on the School Hill; right on the side of the road," then dis-
appeared. The location indicated was selected. In Den-
mark, near Brighton, Maine, the body lies in a newly-selected
lot, on the school-house hillside.

The illness and decease occurred at the residence of her
sister, corner of Cedar and Franklin streets. The young lady
had resided in Lawrence several years, was the organist at
Webster Hall, with a large circle of acquaintances. We give
the facts, easily attested, and the circumstances warrant the
truthfulness of the statements. There is another instance on
record somewhat similar. It occurred many years ago, but
has gone, the rounds of the press, at intervals, several times
since it first happened. We remember it faintly as follows :
A sailor on a man-of-war, the worst type of an unruly fellow, a
drunkard, shirk, illiterate, and almost uncontrollable, was
taken sick and died. The surgeon had pronounced him dead ;
he was laid out, and the crew had gathered about the corpse,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 27

when the body sat upright, preached a most excellent sermon
of some length to the sailors, in the midst of which the aston-
ished surgeon and captain, who had been sent for, entered, and
listened, thoroughly surprised and impressed with the solem-
nity of the occasion and the discourse. It continued some
moments, and then the body again fell back, dead. This in-
cident was attested by the commander, surgeon, and other
officers, and never satisfactorily accounted for.

THE DEATH-BEDS OF SPIRITUALISTS.

*Listen to the words that come from the lips of so devout
a Christian as the late Albert Barnes, of Philadelphia, well
known to the religious public at home and abroad. Hear his
cry of doubt and despair: ''It is all dark, dark, dark, to my
soul, and I cannot disguise it. In the distress and anguish of
my own spirit I confess that I see no light whatever."

Hardly less desponding than this in tone, was the utter-
ance on one occasion of President McCosh, of Princeton Col-
lege, while officiating at a funeral.

Turn from the wailings of anguish like these to the last
words, almost playful in their serenity, of the Spiritualist Soc-
rates. Crito asks him : '' How and where shall we bury you ? "
Socrates rebukes the phrase. ''Bury me," he replies, "in
any way you please, if you can catch 7ne, and I do not escape
from you /^^ And, at the time smiling, and looking around on
his hearers, he said : "I cannot persuade Crito, my friends,
that I am this Socrates who is now conversing with you, and
arranging each part- of this discourse ; but he obstinately
thinks I am that which he shall shortly behold dead, and he
wants to know how he shall bury me. But that which I have
been arguing with you so long, that when I shall have drunk
this poison I shall be with you no longer, but shall then
depart straightway to some happy state of the blessed, I seem
to have argued in vain, and I cannot convince him. . . . Say
not, at the interment, that Socrates is laid out, or is carried
out, or is buried. Say that you bury my body. Bury it, then,
in such a manner as is pleasing to you, and as you think is
most agreeable to laws."

The sequel of the familiar narrative, the introduction oi
the hemlock, the drinking of it amid the tears and lamenta

*Epes Sargent, In Banner of Light, Boston, Mass.

28 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA GF DEA TH

tions of friends, the solemn silence enjoined by himself, the
pacing to and fro, the perfect equanimity, and the unquench-
able faith manifested in all his last words and acts, show that
Socrates fulfilled in his death all the professions of his life.

As no unworthy pendant to this picture' of the death of
Socrates, learn how another Spiritualist, Mrs. Rosanna C.
Ward, of Cincinnati, met her end. For several years she had
said to her husband that she would pass away in the autumn
of 1873, in the twilight of a beautiful day. The fact verified
the prediction.

A few days before her departure she sent for a Unitarian
clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Vickers, and requested him to con-
duct the services at her funeral, and to say: ''This woman
did not die in the faith of Spiritualism, but she had absolute
knowledge of the reality of the after-life and the fact of spirit
intercourse."

She arranged all her affairs, and gave minute directions.
''After the spirit leaves the body," she said, "lay the body out
for cooling in this room ; lower the windows about six inches
and allow nobody to come in.

"There must be no sitting up. Go, all, and take your
needed rest, as I shall be doing.''''

The day preceding her death she lapsed into a deep
trance, and was absent three hours. During this time her arm
was pulseless and her breathing was imperceptible. When
she retook possession of her body, she .said : "There is so
much life in the back brain that I could not pass away. The
back brain must die a little more before I can leave." She
then said to Mr. Ward, who had just handed her a flower :
"The flowers are a thousand times more beautiful in the Spir-
it-world than these ! But all God's works are beautiful, if we
are only in sympathy with them. My dear, it is all right."

She then spoke of the interviews she had been having
with departed relatives and friends, and said : "I will go to-
morrow." On the morrow, a few moments before she passed
away, she gave some instructions for her husband's comfort,
and then, with a smile, looking him in the face, said: "My
work is now done; the curtain falls. " And so the well-pre-
pared spirit passed on to the better clime, "the purer ether,
the diviner air."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. 29

DYING EXPERIENCES OF RUFUS W. PECKHAM.

In order to show that the sensations of death are not pain-
ful, but in some cases really pleasant, is the object of intro-
ducing the various incidents connected with its phases. The
following communication, received from Judge Rufus W. Peck-
ham, who was drowned, being a passenger of the ill-fated
Ville Du Havre, beautifull}^ illustrates several points that
every person should be familiar with. It was given through
the mediumship of the lamented Judge J. W. Edmonds, and is
very interesting :

My Dear Friend. — I shall waive all ceremony with you
and enter upon this, our interview, not assuming, but knozving,
that you are aware of my presence almost as tangibly as when
I last met you in Albany, in the court-room, where you and I
had listened and tried to be still, out of respect to the majesty
of the law. You left the court room in advance of me. I
tried to see you again, but you left that evening. We meet
again here under different circumstances. I will not say that
I am from the higher court to-day, for, as yet, I have found no
court or sphere into which your thoughts, which represent
your spirit, do not come. Hence there are no severed links
in our friendship, when we still sit in council with those we
knew and loved.

Had I chosen the manner of my departure from the body,
I should not have selected the one to which I was obliged to
succumb. However, I find no fault, now that I realize the life
which has opened before me so suddenly, so strangely.

In my dying moments I lived my life over again. Every
scene, every act, passed before me as vividly as if written on
my brain with living light. Not a friend whom I had known in
earlier or later life, was forgotten. I saw, as I sank, with my
wife folded to my heart, my mother and father. The former
lifted me out of the wave with a strength which I can at this
moment feel, and I have no recollection of suffering.

From the moment that I knew the waves would engulf
us, I had no sensation of fear, cold, or suffocation. I did not
hear the waves break. I parted with that which was my body,
and, with my wife still in my arms, followed my mother
whither she led me. •

The first sad thought was for my dear brother. This my
mother saw and felt, and at once said : <' Your brother will

30 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH '

soon be with you ! " From that moment sorrow seemed to
fade away, and I sat down to look about upon the scene
through which I had so recently passed. I felt solicitude for
my fellow-passengers ; looked for them, and saw them being
lifted out of the waves in precisely the same manner that your
strong arm, nerved by love, would lift your drowning child
fiom the great waves which would swallow him up.

For a time this appeared so real, that, had it not have
been for the presence of those whom I knew to be dead, I
should have believed myself acting as rescuer with the spirits.

I write plainly to you, hoping that you will send words of
comfort to those who imagine that their friends suffered mor-
tal agony in drowning. There was a fulfillment of that glori-
ous triumph of faith, and the shadow of death became an
illumination, which enabled so many to say that Death's waves
were swallowed up in victory, which love had brought to light
in the ministry of angels and spirits.

I need not tell you the greetings which awaited me when
the many, whom you and I knew and loved, welcomed me to
the realms of the life immortal. Not having been sick or suf-
fering, I was ready at once to accept facts, and to move for-
ward to the attractions which, if on earth's plane, have the
power to charm aw^ay sorrow ; how much more enchanting
here, w^here the scene has changed so quickly, so gloriously,
that we do not murmur at the haste, nor think that it is dis-
appointment or accident that summoned us unceremoniously
hither !

I am aware that many will ask, that if we could be helped
to pass out of the body without pain, why could not the acci-
dent have been prevented ? In our investigations we have
learned this fact, namely, that the officer in charge was so en-
tirely deceived in regard to the distance between the Loch
Earn and his own vessel, that no power on earth, or that
which the Spirit-world could bring to bear, could have pre-
vented it. Hence the collision was inevitable. There are
conditions of sight, particularly on the ocean, when the water
will seem to possess a power of deception almost marvelous
and past belief. The ablest and best are liable to these con-
ditions, particularly at just the position that these vessels
must have been in. Hence there should be no blame attached
to that man. It is done, and the survivorji most need sym-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 3

pathy, and I know of no way to give it more direct than to as-
sure them that their loved friends are not slumbering in the
caverns of the deep, awaiting the final trump to sound, but,
that all times they await and look for the proper channels
through which to echo the unmistakable evidence of life im-
mortal.

My thanks are due to our mutual friends, Talmadge,
Van Biiren, Hili, and m^ny others, for this delightful reunion
with you ; nor can I end it without thanking you for a faith
which, although silent between us, made me to respect you
the more. I have come now into that nearer circle of friend-
ship which I shall cherish as I know you will — sacred as the
love which makes us to rejoice in our great and All- Wise
Father, who doeth all things well.

RuFus W. Peckham.

A FLOWER MOVES, INDICATING DEATH.

The wreck of the Ville Du Havre was, indeed, an appall-
ing disaster, yet we have the testimony of this spirit that he
experienced no pain whatever, while drowning. In connec-
tion with this unfortunate affair, w^e give the following inci-
dent illustrating the power of spirits over matter. It was taken
from the Boston Daily Advertiser at the time of the disaster:

*'Mrs. Bininger was the wife of Mr. Bininger, of the well-
known wine firm in Broad Street. The daughter was saved,
and the mother, it is feared, was drowned. Mr. Bininger was
among the first at the company's office. He received a dis-
patch containing the news that his daughter was saved and on
her way to Paris, but that his wife was lost. He mentioned a
curious circumstance : On the evening of the 23rd, a flower,
which his wife had left at his house, moved, and he remarked
to some friends who were present that he believed that mo-
tion indicated that some accident had befallen his wife. They
tried to dissuade him from the idea, but his mind has ever
since been uneasy in regard to the circumstances, and his
worst fears have been confirmed. He was grief-stricken be-
yond measure, and his sorrow was shared by all present."

Spirits have the power to assuage the agony of the last
moments, and although the contraction of the muscles seems to
indicate severe phj^sical pain, yet such is not always the case.
C.'f course, when the above disaster on the ocean occurred, the

32 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

greatest excitement and alarm prevailed, and the fear of ap-
proaching death was more painful than the drowning itself.
Perhaps some may have died through fear alone before being
submerged, and, of course, did not have to pass through the
ordeal they so much dreaded.

THERE COME WHISPERS OF JOY FROM THE SPIRIT-LAND.
Bishop Simpson has well said: ''The very grave is a
passage into the beautiful and the glorious. We have laid our
friends in the grave, but they are around us. The little chil-
dren that sat upon our knees, into whose eyes we looked with
love, whose little hands have clasped our neck, on whose
cheek we have imprinted the kiss — we can almost feel the
throbbing of their little hearts to-day. They have passed
from us — but where are they ? Just beyond the line of the in-
visible. And the fathers and mothers who educated us, who
directed and comforted us, where are they but just beyond the
line of the invisible ? The associates of our lives, that walked
along life's pathway, those with whom we took sweet counsel,
and who dropped by our side, where are they but just bej^ond
us, not far away — it may be very near us, in the heaven of
light and love. Is there anything to alarm us in the thought
of the invisible ? No ! It seems to me that sometimes when
our heads are on the pillow, there come whispers of joy from
the Spirit-land which have dropped into our heart thoughts of
the sublime and beautiful and glorious, as though some an-
gel's hand passed over our brow, and some dear one sat by
our pillow and communed with our hearts to raise our affec-
tions towards the other and better world,"

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD^ 33

TKrilliiv^ Narrative oF a |1a^6alerv.

HER DEATH AND PASSAGE TO SPIRIT-LIFE.

HER VARIED EXPERIENCES HER PRAYERS HER DESTROYER

SARAH GLADSTONE ''IT IS ALMOST MORNING."

Many times there are circumstances that surround the
couch of the dying that render their transition peculiarly in-
teresting. There stands before me a young lady, twenty-three
years of age, whose life experiences and death are stamped
with many instances of a startling nature. Her features are
wreathed with a smile, underneath which seems to repose deep
sorrow, as if a vestige of the troubles of earth-life still cast a
shadow over her. Her eyes beam with a tender expression of
delight, yet connected therewith seems to be a tinge of grief
remaining. Over her shoulders her hair, in graceful, wavy
ringlets falls, and resting on her head is a wreath of celestial
flowers, so arranged as to form letters which compose sad-
ness. Oh! what a strange mixture of contradictory expres-
sions in this angelic figure. Her voice has a sound of dreary
melancholy permeating it, as it gives utterance to her thoughts.
The mind never becomes weary in witnessing a soul so ex-
ceedingly diversified in its outward manifestations. She wants
her life-experiences written, and an account of her departure
to Spirit-life given, that all may know how a — Magdalen — lived
and died! As she breathed into my mind that word, I was
startled — she, the angelic spirit who stands so near me, shed-
ding a hallowed influence over my nature, a Magdalen in earth-
life! Under the influence of that announcement, so agitated
did I become, that the vision presented to me vanished for a
time, but it soon assumed its original brilliancy.

**Well, fair maiden, what do you desire? What do you
approach me for? I have gazed on beautiful forms before,
but yours, so strangely blended with the joys of the Spirit-
world and the sadness of earth, is delightful to gaze upon. No
pen can accurately describe your features, illuminated with

34 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OE DEATH

such a smile, or give an icu a of the sound of your sweet voice
— there is a background of such intense grief reflected in both,
that they baffle all my efforts to describe them. Standing
gracefully by my side, I seem to forget the troubles of life for
a time, and, bathing in the aroma of your pure nature, life
seems to be an ecstatic dream. Please tell me what you de-
sire ? "

Spirit. — Oh, child of earth, life is, indeed, a drama, and I
was one of its principal actors. I have sought 3^ou to give an
account of my life-experiences and death. How varied, in-
deed, my life has been, and what a graphic picture it presents,
having such diversified outlines. In my Summer-land home,
surrounded with all that I deserve to have, certainly nothing,
you may think, could prevent me from being perfectly happy.
Happy ! Beautiful word, tremulous with waves of joy, and
brilliant with ecstatic emotions, I have seen thee and tasted of
thy hallowed fruits, but upon me thou hast never showered thy
richest treasures. Happy ! Romantic thought, full of hopes
and mystic charms I Indeed, I am not happy ! That back-
ground of sadness in my nature, that tinges my eyes, colors
my features, and moves my voice in tremulous accents, in con-
sequence of my missteps in life, attracts me still to earth, to
the erring ones there, and with them I spend a great share of
my time ; to see them in their misery constitutes no happi-
ness for me. Within my soul there is a deep sympathy that
ever vibrates for those mortals who, like myself, had tempta-
tion presented to them in such gaudy colors that they yielded
thereto, and sunk deep into the purlieus of vice. Think me
happy when the effects of my corrupting experiences still
make their impress upon me, though they animate me with
high resolves and philanthropic purposes ? Indeed, child of
earth, do you, whose 55'mpathy is so keenly attuned, think
that I can remain in the Spirit-world and not make an effort
to illuminate the darkened paths of my fallen sisters ?

Each good act that I do any one assists me in making a sil-
very lining to my spiritual pathw^ay ; each want that I relieve,
adds beautiful gems to my soul, and assists me to rise. In
my earl}^ life on earth I had kind, indulgent parents, and they
still live in their pleasant, domestic homie, where nothing ex-
ists to disturb their enjoyment, but the thought of my disso-
lute career. I was educated in one of the best female semi-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 35

naries, and stood at the head of my class. Always cheerful,
my step ever light and gay, I was animated by the innocent,
confiding spirit of youth ! At the age of sixteen I seemed like
a woman, my physical system, as well as my mind, having be-
come prematurely developed, and being what the world calls
beautiful, it is not strange that I should attract the attention
and admiration of the opposite sex. Such was the case. A
young man, whom I will call Carleton, that I chanced to meet at
an evening party, greatly admired me, and under the strange,
weird influence that he exerted I was powerless. All the time,
when lavishing on me his highest praise and extolling me for
my various accomplishments, I distrusted him — regarded him
as a villain, yet, strange infatuation ! I could not dispel his
subtle power, or banish his presence from my mind. He was
forbidden to enter my father's residence, still we held clan-
destine meetings and I w^as led on, step by step, to the gates
of ruin ! Oh ! how I prayed that the tempter might be re-
moved, and the weird influence of one of earth's devils be
withdrawn, but my prayers seemed to return to me in mocking
response. Down, down I went, gradually sinking deeper and
deeper into the mire and filth of degradation, until my offense
could no longer be concealed. Ah ! how my mother shrieked,
when the facts of my ruin had been disclosed to her. Her
lamentations were, indeed, heartrending, and in tones of deep
anguish they penetrated my heart, and made me nearly wild !
To them it was a deep disgrace to have an illegitimate child
born, and they felt it, so keenly that I resolved to leave them
forever. They did not drive me forth with reproving words —
oh ! no. After my fall they seemed to shower on me all the
strength of their love, and threw around me all those sur-
roundings that would have a tendency to make me happy.

My destroyer, as soon as he accomplished my ruin, fled to
parts unknown, and left me alone to bear the load of shame.
Feeling the heavy weight of disgrace resting upon me, sensing
it plainly, expelled from society, and looked upon with con-
tempt, I was not long in making up my mind what I should
do. Selecting my choicest wearing apparel, and carefully
packing it in my trunk, I managed to get it away without de-
tection, and soon after I found myself in a large city. I do
not give names or places, as at this date my parents still live,
and I would not add one pang to their already wounded hearts.

36 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

It was night, and how lonely I was. It seemed as if my heart
would burst, I felt so desolate. Selecting a boarding-house,
I secured a room, where I remained while my money lasted,
in the meantime seeking some employment by which I could
earn a living. Strange, my refusal to give the name of my
parents, or to tell where I had previously lived, threw a
shadow of suspicion over me, and I found all my efforts futile
to secure honorable employment in midwinter.

Finding my resources gradually dwindling away, I was
compelled to resort for assistance to a house of ill-fame !
Then I resolved to poison myself, but was deterred therefrom
by a singular dream, wherein I saw myself laid out in a coffin,
and the time that was to intervene was only two and a half
years. Weary, heart-broken, and very lonesome, I became
reckless and venturesome, and scon found myself in a room
plying the vocation of a fallen woman. The place I occupied
was not of the ordinary kind. I ornamented it with artificial
flowers, rare paintings, the work of my own hands, and finally
it appeared like a little enchanted palace. I then became dis-
consolate. True, I had many admirers, but only selected a
few of those, whose contributions enabled me to live comfort-
ably.

Oh, what a life ! Carleton, your victim never forgot you,
and, strange to say, he never forgot her, for soon after he left
her he was shot by the brother of a girl whom he had ruined,
and his spirit was prematurely sent to the Spirit-world, steeped
in all manner of wickedness. But Carleton in Spirit-life still
visited me, and his influence seemed like so much poison to
my nature.

Finally I was taken sick, and locking the door of my
room, I resolved to die alone, my real name known only to
myself. And I did die. Oh ! what scenes I passed through !
My brain reeled, and it seemed as if the devils of hell were let
loose upon me. The spirit of Carleton seemed to approach
me, and with words of derision, said: ''Yea, you are mine,
now. I have followed you day after day, and now I have you.
Before a week shall have passed away, you will be with me in
Spirit-life." ''Back! Carleton! You ruined me, and now
you want to destroy my soul. Back ! back ! help ! help ! " I

cried, and then the door was broken in and Charley H

came to my bedside. Oh ! he was my dearest friend. In my

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 37

loneliness he cheered me, and made life more pleasant than it
would otherwise have been. What a sad picture I then pre-
sented. Hair disheveled, eyes streaming with scalding tears,
features distorted with frenzy, while I uttered shriek after
shriek, in agonizing terror, as I gazed at my tormentor. Carle-
ton ! There he stood in one corner of my room, his nature
disrobed of its outer covering, presenting his real character in
all of its hideous deformity, I had a burning fever. I was
wild — in one sense, insane — yet I realized all. Carleton's pres-
ence seemed to pierce my vitals with a fierce fire, and again
and again did I reproach him in tones of the deepest anguish
for his deceitfulness and insatiate perfidy, but he responded
only in a demoniacal laugh. Said I: ''Oh! look at this
wreck ! Gaze at your victim dying by inches, and you, mon-
ster, have come again to torment her ! Look at the home you
destroyed, and see the sad, heart-broken parents still living
there ! Was it not enough to stain my soul with foul crimes,
to darken it until nearly every divine spark therein was extin-
guished ? Indeed, you think not, for now you come to render
more desolate my last moments. Indeed, monster, beware !
A retribution awaits you. Instead of returning to me to make
amends, you come actuated with the spirit of revenge. Away !
I say, and let me die in peace ! " My denunciations only awak-
ened in him smiles of hate, and instead of leaving, he ap-
proached me closer, until he could almost lay his hands upon
me. It was then that my piteous moans attracted attention,
and caused the door to be forced open. My friend, naturally
tender-hearted and humane, and whose only sin consisted in
visiting a fallen woman, burst into a flood of tears as he gazed
at me, a wreck of my former self. ''Claude (name I as-
sumed), what on earth is the matter ? " he inquired.

"Oh ! Charley, I am dying ! My brain feels as if a thou-
sand needles were pricking it, and I must soon pass away."

He hastily summoned a physician, who administered opi-
ates that temporarily quieted me, and I fell into a pleasant
slumber, and I dreamed. I visited the home of my childhood ;
saw my aged parents, brothers and sisters, and the hallowed
influence seemed to thrill my soul with joy. An angel accom-
panied me, and said: "My child, be tranquil. You will soon
pass to the Spirit-world. The worst is over. You are not bad
by nature ! You yielded to the tempter, and fell, but you have

38 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

all the elements of a true woman, only they are darkly clouded.
You were tender-hearted, innocent and confiding, and though
led astray, and for a time a resident of the purlieus of vice, yet
your experiences will lead to magnificent results. Now being
acquainted with the true condition of fallen women, you can
make amends for your past conduct by returning to earth in
spirit and ministering to them — trying to elevate them in the
scale of existence. Be of good cheer, then, for 3^ou have but
a few hours to remain."

I then awoke from my pleasant vision. After that I did
not see Carleton again. My interior sight was opened, and I
fully realized my true condition, and in a half-awake state I
saw standing before me a young lady, innocent in spirit, and
pure as the snow-flake when borne aloft by the surging storm-
cloud. Not a taint existed on her fair nature, and she seemed
like a fairy as she moved around. Presently she attempted to
walk, and through some, to me, inexplicable cause, she stum-
bled and fell, and bruised her shoulder ver}^ badl3\ She arose,
but felt the pain severely, and continuing to' move, I noticed
that she stumbled again, this time mutilating one of her
cheeks, and thus she continued to rise and fall, until her w^hole
system was one mass of scars — disgusting disfigurements, illus-
trating the results of missteps in life. What a change ! A
lovely, angelic creature, whose motions were sylph-like and
whose nature sparkled with the innocence of childhood, had
become a hideous-looking creature, and my soul went out in
sympathy for her. What means this ? thought I. Presently
I saw a spirit approach her, and tell her that the scars on her
person could never be erased, only by high resolves and phil-
anthropic deeds. So this scar-covered creature went forth,
and devoted all the energies of her soul to alleviating the sor-
rows of those that she could influence, and in proportion to
the good which she did the loathsome appearance of her per-
son disappeared, until finally she stood forth the same pure
soul as when I first saw her. '' Such," said the angel visitant,
"is your condition. Your spirit is covered w^ith deep scars,
and the Avay to eradicate them has been illustrated to you. Be
hopeful ! You are soon to pass through a change called death,
and relieved of your unpleasant surroundings, you will quickly
progress to a higher sphere. You have stumbled, and uow
your spirit is disfigured very badly, but rest assured that you

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD, 39

can become an angel of light, and be instrumental in doing
great good."

I comprehended the lesson. When I awoke from m}^ rev-
erie, for such it seemed to be, I found my friend Charley and
the doctor standing over me, and I heard the latter remark
that I could live but a few hours. Strange creature, Charley —
his soul was moved with deep emotions of sympathy for me,
and he wept like a child, offering the doctor any price if he
would effect a cure. ''I never knew, doctor," said he, ''that
I loved her so intensely as now. Had I felt this high and holy
emotion before, I would have saved her." I then revived, and
he said : " Claude, what can I do for you ? "

"Oh! I am dying. Sympathy is sweet, even when it is
manifested at the last moments of life. I have cherished for
you a strange love, to which I never gave full expression, and
now I am glad it is reciprocated. I am a fallen woman, and
rhe w^orld despises me. A dark cloud has obscured my path-
way, thorns have pricked me, and broken glass cut my feet,
and to-day I am a wreck. You are wealthy. You say you love
me."

''Yes, Claude, indeed I do."

"Then promise me one thing; that you will never visit a
Magdalen, only to redeem her, to save Ler from a life of
shame. Purity of character is a gem oi radiant beauty, and it
is an ornament one may be well proud of. Promise me that,
and my love shall be a legacy to you worth more than millions
of gold. Do you promise ? "

"Yes, my darling Claude, I promise. You are dying an
angel, if you have lived a wretched life."

"Now give me a parting kiss, Charley, and I shall die
with the satisfaction that one scar is already erased from my
mangled spirit."

Exhausted from my effort at talking I swooned away; still
I remember all that transpired. Oh ! howl cherish in my soul
that noble man who, standing by my bedside, dedicated his
life to me — to save those rendered wretched by missteps in
life. Each day I encircle his brow with a garland of flowers,
and breathe upon him the benedictions of my soul, rendered
noble by good works. When I became powerless to move,
my eyes gazing vacantly in space, with pure devotion he stood
over me, watching for favorable symptoms. Oh ! I was then

40 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

dying ! My higJi resolves had brought to my dying bed a band
of angels, and their influence infused glorious feelings within
me. My life, in its varied aspects of lights and shades, was
spread out before me. I was not rendered bad/r^/;z choice, but
by conditions which were woven around me until my disrepu-
table course in life became, seemingly, a necessity to me. I
could not, while dying, move my body ; no pain tormented
me, but a quiet, peaceful resignation pervaded my nature, and
my whole soul seemed to be illuminated with a light divine.
Kvery incident in my life came up before me, and the activity
of my mind was grand indeed ! Then I became unconscious,
and when I awoke again I was in Spirit-life, surrounded by a
band of loving spirits, who with sweet music welcomed me.

Those who lead, from choice, a life of shame, weave such
a dark network around their nature that they may remain in
Spirit-life for years before a divine spark can fully illuminate
the same. Let those who read my sad experiences kindly
throw the veil of charity over the erring, and through the in-
strumentality of kindness and love try to elevate them in the
scale of existence. How keenly I suffered on earth, and I
even now still suffer from the effects of my misdeeds.

Oh ! would that I had a thousand pens to chronicle my ex-
periences, and paint in vivid pictures the scenes of desolation
through which I passed. My sickness was accompanied with
many strange experiences. The one who ruined me is far be-
neath me in Spirit-life, but I have forgiven him, enveloped
him with a bright halo that ever emanates from a soul actu-
ated by pure motives, and soon, too, he will advance to a
higher sphere. Though a fallen woman, my death, the final
transit, was painless, and accompanied with many pleasant
circumstances. My high resolve before the final separation,
however, was a grand step in advancement, and attracted to-
wards me high and holy influences. Oh ! death to me was a
desirable change, and no one who sincerely wishes to be good
need fear it.

How true it is, that when a misstep is made by human be-
ings they are often whirled into the vortex of licentiousness
thereby, and being partially unbalanced and bewildered, and
smarting under the full appreciation of their disgrace, they
continue to sink deeper and deeper in the cesspools of vice —

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 41

then society condemns them, and it is almost impossible for
them to rise.

While on earth, yearning with all the impulses of my soul
to lead a noble life, and weave a web of purity to conceal the
scars that had appeared on my mortal nature, the stigma that
rested on me, showered there by those who had not sinned
because they had not been tempted, created a black, dismal
cloud, through which my vision could not penetrate, and
which I could not dispel. Oh ! mortals of earth, dissipate all
such clouds of dark condemnation, for in an unguarded mo-
ment any one is liable to sin. Nature's flowers send forth
their heaven-born fragrance and develop their beautiful col-
ors in the garden of the Magdalen equally as well as in the
fields of the millionaire. The sweet-scented breezes of heaven
do not avoid the doors of the low and vile, but bathe them in
their heaven-born influence. The genial sun does not withhold
its rays from anyone — it condemns none. Supposing the flow-
ers should fade or frown when one sinned, or the bounteous
stores of nature's blessings be withdrawn, or appear dis-
gusted, what encouragement for reformation ? Oh ! you of
earth should imitate the flowers, and as they surround the
fallen with their divine aroma, so should you envelop them
with a network of charity and love, and regard them with the
highest degree of tenderness.

Now in Spirit-world, breathing Its pure atmosphere and
basking, at times, in the hallowed influence of angels, I do say
that those who condemned me, spat upon me, and systematically
avoided me, placed themselves beneath me, and their position
in the Spirit-world will not be much more desirable than mine
was at first, while those whose souls were attuned in sweet
accord with the angels, and went forth in tremulous waves of
sympathy for me, blessed be they, for them there is a crown of
glory, and a grand reception awaits them here. The Angel-
world can see the cause of evil, trace its origin, and under-
stand fully its ultimate effects. The results of sin are deplor-
able enough without having the hateful stigma of society
resting upon the sinner, crushing all the high and holy as-
pirations of one's nature to reform. Nature never becomes
ashamed of the criminal ; her plants never blush when a lonely
soul presses them to her cheek ; her waters never fail to
cleanse the external form — why, then, should hatred gleam

42 THE ENCYCL OF^JJIA OF DEA TB

forth from a human being when a fallen creature appeals for
sympathy ? Why stigmatize them, and frown them down with
the linger of scorn ? Nature's flowers, tinted with choicest
colors, and exhaling a heaven-born fragrance to delight the
senses of mortals, sometimes may be found in the debris of
your back-yards — they came up through the loathsome dirt.
The little tendrils, when first expanding into vigorous life in
the dark ground, were scratched with broken glass, obstructed
by old junk bottles, and tramped upon by the rude thief
stealthily looking for an opportunity to plunder, but by and by
they reached a higher plane, and under the genial influence of
sunshine and rain they bore upon their stems beautiful blos-
soms. Ah ! in Angel-land there are many pure spirits who
ascended thither from the low dens of vice on earth, and the}^
too, had to contend with obstructions thrown in their w'ay by
the "pure," so-called, mortals of earth. The finger of scorn
emits a more poisonous influence than the fangs of the cobra,
and those who raise it against another injure themselves more
than the one to whom it is directed. Sympathy is the sweet-
est, purest, holiest flower in the garden of the soul, and could
you behold the tremulous waves of its beautiful leaves when
moved with the spirit of compassion for the down-trodden,
you would rejoice, and could you see them droop in sadness,
and their beautiful tints fade when any one is contemptuously
stigmatized, you would shed tears of sorrow. But now I must
leave you for the present.

The above narrative, true to the letter, demonstrates the
fact that all can, who so desire, reform and become angelic in
nature. The experiences of Claude resemble, in some re-
spects, those of Sarah Gladstone, who resided in St. Louis,
Mo., several years ago, the following account of which was
published in the Republican of that city :

The facts connected with the death of Sarah Gladstone
have been kept quiet, and away from the public, but have ex-
cited a very deep interest among the few medical men and oth-
ers acquainted with them. There appears, however, no object
in further secrec}^ The unfortunate woman has been dead
several weeks, and it is pretty well established that she has
left no near relatives whose feelings need be considered in con-
nection with the matter.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 43

Sarah Gladstone belonged to that class of prostitutes
called by the police "privateers." Her home was a small
room in a tenement building, which she kept furnished with
great neatness and taste. It was never the scene of drunken
revels or unruly gatherings, and, in fact, Sarah's visitors were
so few that it was often said she had some private means of
her own.

A month or so ago Sarah was taken ill. The fact was first
discovered by a young man, a clerk who was in the habit of
visiting her. He went to her room late one Saturday night
and found Sarah kneeling on the rug before the fire-place, her
face buried in her hands, and weeping bitterly.

The young man states that he endeavored to persuade her
to tell him what was the trouble, but that she seemed bewil-
dered, and persisted in passionate entreaties that he should
leave the room. Her agitation increased, and finally, fearing
the sound of her voice would attract attention, he went away.

The following Sunday, feeling courteously interested in the
state of the unhappy girl, he again went to her room. He
found the door locked, and could gain no response to his
knocks. On Monday evening he went to the same place. He
knocked, and after waiting some time, she finally admitted him.
He states that he found her the picture of misery. Her face
was deadly pale, her eyes bloodshot with tears, and her move-
ments indicated extreme weakness. The following is his report
of the conversation that took place :

''You are sick, Sarah," I said. **I will get a doctor, and
you will be all right in a few days."

'* It's of no use, Henry; nothing can save me. I've been
called, and I must go. My strength is ebbing away fast, a7id
by this day week I shall be dead. I'n: not sorry," she continued
slowly, as if talking to herself; *'my life has been a bitter,
bitter struggle, and I want rest. But, oh, God ! " she cried,
starting to her feet and walking up and down the room, wring-
ing her hands, "why should he be the one to call me? He
ruined me ; he stole me aw^ay from happy Stamford, and made
a wretched strumpet of me. He left me all alone with my dead
child in the big city, and laughed at my prayers and tears. I
heard he was dead long ago — shot himself down South — and I
felt God had avenged me. But no, no ! he has haunted me
when dead as when alive. Curse him ! curse him ! my evil star.

44 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

And now he takes my life. Curse him ! curse him in hell !
forever !"

She hissed those last words through her teeth with terrible
emphasis, and sank on the sofa panting and exhausted. I left
her for a short time and procured two of my medical friends,
and returned to the room.

The remainder of the particulars connected with ithe girPs
death are gathered from the physicians who attended her.
They stated that they found the patient in a state of extreme
lassitude on their arrival. She seemed possessed with the idea
that her death was approaching, and it was evidentr.that she
considered she had a supernatural intimation of the fact. She
had been called, she frequently said, and then knew she must
go. The physicians could detect no specific ailment, and
treated her as they considered best in order to allay nervous
and mental excitement, and to support the physical strength.
On Monday and Thursday following she seemed better, but on
Friday alarming and most singular symptoms were developed.

It appears that on this evening, when the two doctors
visited Sarah together, they found the young man, Henry, in
the room. As they approached the bed they observed a change
had occurred in the patient. Her eyes shone with extraordinary
brilliancy, and her cheeks were flushed with a crimson color.
Otherwise, however, she appeared calm and self-controlled.

^'Tell them, Henry, what I have told you," she said to the
young man.

He hesitated, and finally she continued :

*'This poor boy, doctors, won't believe me when I tell him
I shall die to-night at 12 o'clock."

Henry was weeping, and she said to him :

**Were you fond of me, really? — fond of the wretched girl
of the town ? Oh, Henry, God will bless you for your kindness
and love to me."

She continued to talk rationally and affectionately to her
young friend until about 10 o'clock, when she closed her eyes
and appeared to sleep.

The night was one unusually sultry and warm for April,
and between 11 and 12 o'clock a thunderstorm broke over the
city. Sarah had continued silent for over an hour, and except
the whispering conversation of the three men the room had
been quiet. A crash of thunder, which shook the building.

r

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD 45

startled her, and she suddenly sat up In bed. The physicians
state that they approached and found her trembling violently.

She caught hold of the arm of Dr. , saying : ** You are a

good, strong, brave man ; can't you save me ? Why should a
poor girl like me be persecuted in this way ? I have been
suffering all my life, and now I am dying at the bidding of this
dark, stern man. Oh ! save me, doctor ! save me, for God
himself has given me up."

As she spoke, she clutched the doctor's arm with despera-
tion, and a fearful earnestness was expressed in her face. The
young man, Henry, at this time, overcome by the scene, left
the room. Sarah did not notice his departure, but continued
to talk wildly of some coming peril. All at once, when the
doctors were endeavoring to compose her and induce her to lie
down, she turned her face toward the door and uttered a pierc-
ing shriek. In a moment she had become a raving maniac.
Her eyes were fixed on the door as if they saw some terrible
object there. "So you've come," she said; "you've come,
James Lennox, to complete your work. But I've got friends
now. I am no longer at your control. Oh, how I hate you,
you bad, wicked, bloody-minded man ! You ruined me body
and soul, but now I'm free. Keep off, you villain." As she
spoke she sprang out of bed and ran behind the physicians,
muttering to herself. They put their arms around her and
lifted her into the bed again. She resisted like a wild beast,
and seemed to think herself struggling with a deadly foe. She
heaped imprecations on the head of her haunting persecutor,
and defied him, alluding incoherently to scenes in her past life.
For more than half an hour she remained in this way, and then
suddenly became quiet and seemingly composed. Her eyes
closed, and she seemed asleep. Her breathing became regular,
but very low and faint ; she opened her eyes and smiled sweetly.
She muttered: "It is almost morning;" and Sarah Gladstone
died as the clock struck twelve.

46 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DMA TH

TKe Passai^e lo tKe Spirit Side oF Life.

VERY INTERESTING AND IMPRESSIVE EXPERIENCES.

The following was received from an elder brother (a grad-
uate of Yale College, New Haven, Conn.) who had been in
the Spirit-land about sixteen years, through a young lady, a
reliable medium, while entranced.

I requested his views of "death," and the medium spoke
as follows:

"You are desirous, my brother, of receiving my ideas of
death. You shall have them. Most willingly I respond to
your questions always, when they are really of consequence.
That you should wish to know something of the change that
takes place with every one on leaving this earth, and which
will take place also with yourself, is natural. When I left the
form, my views of death were entirely different from the views
you at present entertain on the subject. To you it will be but
a delightful step from the borders of time to the confines of
eternity. With me it was widely different. The dread and
fearful uncertainty which pervade the minds of most men,
about to undergo the change, is what constitutes death. It, in
reality, is but a passing away from the things of earth, to a
blissful abode in the blessed Spirit-home, as though you should
go to sleep, some night, in a desert place, and on awakening
at morn, find yourself in the most beautiful abode which your
imagination can picture. It is an imperceptible breathing-
forth of the spirit from the earthly body by which it is en-
wrapped. You, of course, could not realize, nor could I give
you an impression of, the sensations produced by this change.
Not till you experience it yourself, can you have an idea of it.
But, my brother, death is not to be dreaded as an enemy, but
to be welcomed as a friend or brother. It, in fact, is not
death, but life — glorious life — the birth and- entrance of the
soul to its immortal abode!

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT ]VORLD. 47

•'How many happy moments have been marred by the
thoughts of death ! The more men's minds are drawn by
spirit-influence to spiritual things, the less does the fear of
death obtrude itself. Had you the consciousness always with
you, that death was spiritual life, the fear of it would be re-
moved altogether. There is solemnity attending the thought,
of course, and sadness, naturally ; but it should only be the
sadness one would feel at parting with friends to go to another
country, where they will, at r o distant da}^ rejoin them. Could
I sufficiently impress the medium's mind with language adequate
to describe the beauties, glories and employments of the Spirit-
home, it would cheer your hearts, and fill them with desires
and aspirations to be residents there. But your medium does
not often let her mind rest on these subjects. She places too
much thought and care on happiness to be derived from earthly
objects. When her mind is more enlarged and impressible, I
will communicate more freely. Your brother, S. G. D."

At a later date I received the following in answer to the
question, **How did you feel on entering the other world ?"

Answer :

"When I awoke in the Spirit-life, and perceived I had
hands and feet, and all that belongs to the human bod}^, I can-
not express to you in form of w^ords the feelings which at that
moment seemed to take possession of my soul. I realized that
I had a body — a spiritual body— and wath what beautiful and
glorious effulgence of light did I remember what Paul stated in
his epistle: 'It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual
body.' I realized at that moment, as I had never done before,
the glorious truth of my own unfoldings. I had expected to
sleep a long sleep of death, and awake at last, at the general
resurrection, to receive commendation or condemnation, ac-
cording to the deeds done in the body.

"Imagine, then, if you can, what the surprise of a spirit
must be to find, after the struggle of death, that he is a new-
born spirit from the decaying tabernacle of flesh that he leaves
behind him. I gazed on weeping friends w^ith a saddened
heart, mingled with jo}^, knowing, as I did, that I could be with
them, and behold them daily, though unseen and unknown ;
and as I gazed upon the lifeless tenement of clay, and could
behold the beauty of its mechanism, and could perceive the
beautiful adaptedness of all its parts to the use of the spirit

48 THE ENCYCL OPjEDIA OF DEA TH

that once inhabited it, I felt impelled to seek the author of so
much beauty and use, and prostrate myself in adoration at His
feet ; and while contemplating the beauties of God's works,
and lifting my soul from earth and earthly things, I felt a light
touch upon my shoulder, and, joy unspeakable ! I beheld the
loved ones of earth, some of whom had long since departed
from the earth-plane, saying unto me, 'Leave these sad and
weeping groups of mourning friends, and go with us, and be-
hold your future home — your place appointed unto you — and
be introduced by us into the society of congenial spirits, who
have long known you while sojourning on the earth-plane, but
of whose presence you were ignorant. And I felt myself ascend-
ing, or rather floating, onward and upward through the regions
of space ; and I beheld worlds inhabited with people like unto
those who dwell upon the earth ; and ascending from each of
these beautiful orbs were freed spirits, and their guides, bear-
ing me company through the bright realms of immensity.

''For a time I floated on without any fatigue, but ere long
I began to feel weary, and the bright band of spirit-friends
who came to welcome me bore me in their arms, and I felt
myself growing unconscious of surrounding scenes. I seemed
to swoon away ; and when I again came to a knowledge of my
condition and position, I found myself by the side of a beautiful
flowing stream. I was all alone. I fancied I had a dream ;
that this was not all reality, but the fantasies of a sickened
brain ; and I arose to my feet, and the velvety turf at my feet
seemed to vibrate with undulations of music along advancing
footsteps ; the air seemed redolent with sweet sounds, and
ethereal voices saluted my ear with the most enchanting melo-
dies. I shouted, 'Glory to God ! This is heaven !' It surpassed
the highest flight of my fruitful imagination, and my happy
soul rejoiced in the sweet assurance of unending bliss in this
world of beatitudes !

"Though to all appearances alone, I felt I could not be
alone, when surrounded by such sweet and soul-cheering har-
monies. I fell upon my knees. I bowed my face to the earth,
feeling my unworthiness of this glorious realization. But again
I felt this slight touch, and the silvery notes of a human voice
vibrated in my ear, saying, 'Arise ! Arise ! for you are a child
of God, blessed with a glorious and immortal inheritance, and
your Father desires you should stand up in the dignity of a

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 49

child of His love, and commands you, in the spirit of that love,
not to worship Him, as an abject slave, but to give Him the
joyous tribute of a grateful heart/

*'And this bright spirit also informed me that i" must con-
tribute to the general wealth of knowledge ; that there were
those beneath my standing and attainments that required ele-
vating, and I must stretch forth the helping hand to some
striving, struggling brother, and thus be preparing myself for
a higher and more glorious unfolding, for inasmuch as I gave
to others, I would be the recipient of higher and purer gifts,
imparted from the bright and more progressed minds, who were
nearer to the Father's heart in their approximation of perfec-
tion— not nearer to His love, but more unfolded in beauty, and
in elevated truths ; the fragrance of which reached far over the
broad expanse of God's universe, reaching to the heart of
humanity, and inciting them to deeds of virtue and love.

''This, my brother, was my introduction to this paradise —
this land of spirits ! I found myself surrounded by splendid
temples, adorned with unfoldings of art, and whose walls were
decorated by the master hands of those great and ever-to-be-
remembered artists who had labored upon the earth ; for every-
thing that is unfolded on earth has its life's germ in the Spirit-
world. There is not a tiny blade of grass that covers the breast
of mother earth but has a never-dying principle of life. We
have our oceans and bays, and tributary streams ; we have our
warbling songsters, and our flowering meads ; we have the fra-
grance of the flower, but no noxious weeds.

*^ What seems offensive on the shores of time
Serves a purpose glorious and sublime,
Even the reptile, that on earth doth crawl,
That some have said caused man to falL
Is, by the great creative art,
Caused to work a glorious part
In this vast and deeper plan
For the highest use of man.
**It has been supposed by some, and you may be led to
infer from the remarks already given, that the resting-place of
my spirit is far, far away, and to finite minds the distance is
immense, but to the freed spirit it is as the twinkling of the
lightning flash; as it darts across thy vision. You see it and ti

so THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

is gone ; so with the spirit. With the velocity of human thought
we can be in one point of space, and as quick as the flash of
the lightning we can be at another point. In this respect we
differ from those who inhabit this cumbrous clay, and oh ! what
rapturous freedom is this, when we can answer the heart-calls
of earth at a moment's notice and be with you almost as soon
as desired, if not otherwise engaged.

**It is superfluous for me to state I am happy. It is un-
necessary for me to recapitulate what I have often said before,
for you know my interest in you and yours is, and ever will be,
unabated ; and if I could not behold with the eye of faith your
glorious future, I would mourn over your sometimes harassed
and perplexed condition in life ; but rest assured, my brother,
as God is true, and cannot err, all these things which seem to
be afflicting are but for a moment, and will work out for you a
far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. For, oh ! to
the hungry man how sweet a morsel is a crust of bread ! and to
the trial-tossed spirits of time, how sweet is the harmonic re-
ception which will greet them in Spirit-life !

''Then cheer thee, my brother. O, do not despair, for a
brighter world awaits and loved ones are there, and with true
hearts they wait, and with outstretched arms they stand at the
portals of yon gate that opes into the Spirit-land ! There is no
death ; but all is light, and loving friends await to greet you
when you come, a welcome pilgrim, to your starry home.

"Perhaps some may say, 'What new truth has been
evolved ? What new principle has been brought to light by
these so-called spirit-communications?' We will answer, there
is nothing new under the sun. God, the Father, in days past
and in divers manners, spake unto His children by the mouths
of His prophets, even as in this, our day, does He speak through
His sons and daughters, revealing to mortals life and immor-
.tality beyond the grave, demonstrating to them the fact that
spirits do live, communicate, and have continued existence
after the so-called death of the body. And the same Father
hath revealed, through His sons and daughters, the same glo-
rious truths to his children of this day, and diffused through
many channels the knowledge of the truth, and they no longer
walk by faith, but by sight, and the children of the Father can
learn the grand lessons taught by Jesus, that the true worshipers
must worship in spirit and in truth. And thus the spiritually

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD, 61

dead are raised ; and out of the mouths of babes and sucklings
God hath ordained praise.

''The worshipers of God to-day are beginning to under-
stand the true principles of worship, and to walk in the light
as becomes children of the day ; and instead of destroying men
and women for communing with the departed, they are sought
unto by hungering and thirsting humanity to receive the manna
of righteousness and the waters of life, as they flow from the
great Father-spirit, through ministering spirits to humanity,
and in humanity blessing the world. We find, in our advance-
ment in spiritual knowledge, the necessity of working out our
salvation, of elevating our own spirits to that plane that we
may receive the Divine efflux which is ever flowing out from
the Great I Am.

''And now, my brother, with a promise to give, at some
other time, the remainder of my experience and knowledge, I
am compelled, by the force of circumstances, to withdraw.
May the Infinite Father of Love, and the angels' beautitudes,
be ever nigh thee and thine, is the heartfelt prayer of him who
has communed at this time with his earth-bound brother.

"S. G. A."

It may be proper to remark that the expression used in
the latter part of this article, "harassed and perplexed con-
dition," refers to a period when, residing in a distant land,
after witnessing numerous and important facts, I had proved
the truth of spirit-existence and communication, prejudice,
from various quarters, excited strenuous efforts to blast my
favorable pecuniary circumstances. This partially succeeded,
and resulted in turning my attention to this so-called " Land
of the free and home of the brave." I do not regret the
change. A. T. D.

[Note. — No one who reads the foregoing should make the
mistake of supposing that this young man's joyful experience
is that of all who pass the change called death. On the con-
trary, it can be true of only such as have, like him, devoted
their earth-lives to the acquirement of truth and the unselfish
service of others.]

52 THE ENCYCL OPJiDIA 01' D£A Til

TKose floari\Fally Soai\6ii\^ Words.

IMPRESSIVE COMMUNICATIONS FROM THE SPIRIT SIDE OF LIFE.
Poe, in whose soul was a bed of beautiful flowers, on
which the muses seemed to repose and sing their angelic lays,
claimed that Nevermore is the most mournful of all words.
Byron, whose poetic utterances have never ceased to thrill the
mind, attached the same pre-eminence to Farewell. Dr. John-
son, whose erudition still burns with undiminished radiance,
entertained the idea that of all phrases. The Last was most
touching. Another distinguished writer, whose mind echoes
the sad strains of sorrowing souls, affirms that there is more
real pathos in the word Gone, than in any other in the English
language. But to humanity in the aggregate, the word Dead
is the most mournful in its vanishing sound. Speaking of the
dead, those who ''Died Yesterday," an inspired writer says:
" Every day is written this little sentence, 'Died Yesterday.'
Every day a flower is plucked from some sunny home, a breach
is made in some happy circle, a jewel is taken from some
treasury of love, by the ruthless hand of the angel of death.
Each day, from the summer-fields of life, some harvester dis-
appears. Yes, every moment some cherished sentinel drops
from the rugged ramparts of time into the surging waves of
eternity. Even as we write the church-bell tolls the doleful
funeral knell of one who died yesterday; its solemn tones chill
the blood in our veins, and make the heart sad indeed. ' Died
yesterday!' Who died? Perhaps it was a gentle, innocent
babe, sinless as an angel, pure as the zephyr's gentle music,
and whose laugh was as gushing as the summer-rills loitering
in a rose-bower, whose life was but a perpetual litany, a Ma}'-
time, crowned with blooming, delicate flowers, which never

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- IVOR ID. 53

fadt'. Or, mayhap, it was a youth, hopeful and promising,
possessing the fire and animation of perennial life ; whose
path was strewn with sweet flowers of rarest beauty and ver-
dure, with no serpent lurking beneath ; one whose soul panted
for communion with the great and good ; but that heart is still
now ; he ' died yesterday ! ' ' Died yesterday ! ' A young and
blushing maiden, pure as the orange-flowers that adorn her
alabaster brow, was stricken down as she stood at the altar;
and, from the aisles of the holy temple, she was borne to the
green, mossy graveyard on the hill. A tall, athletic man,
crowned with the halo of success and victory, at the close of
day, under his own vine and fig-tree, fell to the dust, even as
the anthem upon his lips ; and he, too, was laid where the
rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. An angel patriarch,
bowed with age, and the gray hairs whitened by the frosts of
a hundred winters, even as he looked out upon the distant hill
for the coming of the angel-hosts, sunk into a dreamless slum-
ber, and on his door is written: 'Died yesterday!' 'Died
yesterday ! ' Daily, men, women and children are passing
away ; and hourly in some lonely, silent graveyard, the cold,
cheerless sod drops upon the coifin-lid of the dead. As often,
in the morn, we find some rare flower that had blushed sweetly
in the sunset has withered forever ; so daily, when we rise
from our couch to labor at our posts, we miss some kind,
cheerful soul, whose existence was, perhaps, dearly and sa-
credly entwined with our own, and had served as a beacon-
light to our weary footsteps. But the}^ are now gone, and fu-
ture generations will know not their worth nor appreciate their
precepts. Yes, remember, each day some sacred pearl drops
from the jewel thread of friendship ; some sweet, heavenly
lyre, to which we have been wont to listen, has been hushed
forever."

Why should death cause such a solemn, sad expression
as the above, while it is instrumental in liberating immortal
spirits, disrobing them of their exterior covering, and unfold-
ing their inner senses '^ Education has been instrumental in
perverting the mind, giving it wrong impressions in regard to
death, but proper instruction, through the instrumentality of
angels, will eventually dissipate its erroneous conclusions, en-
abling man to stand erect, conscious of the true nature of his
own existence — in one respect, at least, teaching him there is

54 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

no death — only change, as beautifully illustrated by Mrs. Cora
L. V. Tappan. While in London she was controlled by the
spirit of Judge J. W. Edmonds, who said that from the boun-
daries of two worlds he greeted his listeners. He had, how-
ever, to speak in an unwonted manner through the lips of
another, a task almost as difficult as it was to an organist who
attempted to play upon an instrument which he had not pre-
viously studied to some extent. He was, however, assisted by
the ordinary guides of the medium, in his work of attempting
to make known to those present the details of the greatest
triumph of his life — the triumph over death. During the whole
of the death-change he was in the full and clear possession of
his faculties, and he felt no pain, although for some years pre-
viously he had been suffering from debility. His body sank
into sweet repose, whilst his spirit, already free, gazed upon it
as one would look upon a worn-out garment ; he was not aware
of losing control of any faculty ; he re-entered his body at times
to see the loved ones around his bed ; and he admonished his
children not to mourn. He sprang into the new existence as
one would leap from bonds which for years had enchained him
to the flesh and to physical suffering — he sprang forth delighted,
as one would leap into a golden sea, which immediately gave
strength, vigor, and immortality. He beheld the friends whom
he had been accustomed to converse with as spirits, and he felt
the power of spiritual utterance without word or sound, but as
soul communion. He could not speak to his daughters left
upon earth, but he could palpably and perceptibly impress the
mind of his youngest daughter, who was aware of his presence.
Then he experienced the power of spiritual volition, and by the
power of will traversed vast spaces with his guides, to his new
home, where he met his wife. Among the spirits who welcomed
him were Horace Greeley, late editor of the New York Tribune^
Professor Mapes and Benjamin Franklin. The latter was the
most active worker in the next world in devising means to com-
municate with men by means of physical manifestations, and
Mesmer was most active in improving the methods of con-
trolling mediums inspirationally.

On another occasion the following beautiful thoughts were
given through Mrs. Tappan's mediumship, at the Royal Music
HaU, in London :

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 55

'* There is no death. That law that provides for the
changes in material substances also provides for the garnering
up of every thought. Thought never perishes ; it abides for
ever, builds the temples of the future, erects your homes,
clothes your spirits, and paves the way to higher stages of ex-
istence of which you have no knowledge. The science of
spiritual life is brought home to your consciousness. Instead
of the dim groveling of the outward senses, you have the
illumined scroll of the spirit held down to your view, in which
you behold, with the eye of vision mentioned in the Apocalypse,
the wonderful Jerusalem that is to come. It is not a temporal
city ; it is not an external power ; it is not simply a building up
to the outward senses ; but it is a new condition of mind and
life on earth. It shall not revel alone in the external, but shall
build in the eternal, and clothe your souls for the habitation of
the future world. This is the day when there is no death.
Your friend hidden from sight is only caught up into the
atmosphere. You do not see him, but you may perceive him
with the spiritual vision. The mother mourns her child as
dead, and looks into the grave for the object of her care, and
builds up a snowy monument over the body there. But she
must not think the child is there. The spirit, like a white
dove, hovers around her ; and the spirit of the child is waiting
at the door that you all may enter. There is no death ! Mother
earth consumes the body, and that which you bury this year
will bloom into flowers in the spring ; but the buds of your
spirit are transplanted, and blossom in the midst of eternal life,
and the little feet trip among the asphodels in the green mead-
ows of the Spirit-land. This is the lost chain of life ; this is
the golden stone that philosophers have sought for in vain in
times past ; this is the nectar, the nepenthe, that ancient sor-
cerers sought that life might be forever prolonged. You cast
away your bodies as you would a worn-out or imperfect gar-
ment. There are new raiments waiting for you ; there is a new
habitation ready for you. Your feet will not rest upon strange
soil, but friends will gather around you. It is as clear to the
eye of the spirit as are the names of the constellations to the
astronomer ; and though you dwell in the garments of the flesh
you still see beyond, and perceive how, in all the great world
of matter and spirit, there is no room for death to abide ; for
he has gone utterly with ignorance and darkness, and the

^6 THE EN CYC L O P.EDIA OE DEA TH

prejudices of the past, and life, only life, remains as your in-
)ieritance. "

PHENOMENA OF DEATH, GIVEN THROUGH J. J. MORSE, MEDIUM.

In ripe old age we observe that the links that have bound
the body and its members together are being slowly se\ered,
and it is said that such an one is losing the power of hearing,
the power of motion, of memory, or of speech. Does he ever
expect to regain these when he goes beyond the tomb? What
warrant is there that he shall ever have these faculties restored?
How natural it is, in the case of old age, to say that such an
one is losing his powers, and it may be asked, having lost his
intellect, how can a man go about seeking for it? Why, if
common sense were brought to bear upon the question, it
would tell quite a different tale. The tongue is but the vehicle
of sound, and its action, combined with the operation of the
lungs, produces speech. The cause oi this result is behind;
the divine reality contained within. The intelligent principle
retains all its powers and attributes, never losing one of them.
It is the body alone that decays, and our friends who are pass-
ing into Spirit-life are simply withdrawing from the material
condition, because they are perfect in their internal states, and
death completes the separation, the purpose of the earthly life
being accomplished. Here, then, is the reason why man has a
natural body, which, having fulfilled its function — the elabora-
tion of the spiritual one^there is no longer any need for him
to remain upon the earth plane. He is translated to the life
hereafter, that there he may truly learn the real nature of ex-
istence. Such is the answer to the question. Why do men die?

Let us now look at the method of their dying, and of
course, in this connection we must confine our attention solely
to normal or natural death; not to those deaths that are super-
induced by disease or accident; and, in speaking thereof,
we have to request our friends' attention to this all-important
fact, which we have often stated, that the translation from the
earth-plane is subject to laws, and these laws are within the
capacity of the human mind to discover for itself; for all
questions, facts and experiences, that are capable of being
comprehended by the human intellect, are always susceptible
to analysis by the human mind. A life of activity has been
passed, the functions of human existence have been per-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 57

formed, each and all having been directed into their appropriate
channels, and thus the normal purpose of life being fulfilled,
the withdrawal of the powers within bring about a Cessation
of activity without, and so we find the form of him we loved
so well, stretched upon the bed of death. At first there ap-
pear to be convulsive movements of the structure, looks of
pain pass across the distorted features, heavy breathing, char-
acteristic of the last moments, the strange gasp, a sob, and
the final link is severed, and we know that our loved one is no
more. Oftentimes it happens that this knowledge makes all
life devoid of brightness; the sun of our happiness seems
quenched forever ; there is no ray of light ; the consolations
of religion serve only to make the gloom more intense. To
add misery to our sorrow, the hopes of friends seem vain and
delusive. Finding no consolation, the poor stricken ones are
thrown on their own resources, and they pine away in sorrow,
until they also pass the mystic river of death. The Spiritu-
alist— how looks he upon death ? For those who are suffer-
ing, indeed, with much pity. Were it his own case he w^ould
know what had become of the friend he loved so well ; he
would know that this piece of clay was not the friend he loved,
but only the vesture of him who wore it. For a time the
phenomena of death really consist in these few particulars,
plainly discernible to the eye of the seer. As the change ap-
proacifies, there appears to be in the spiritual body a degree of
activity not hitherto experienced. That activity increases as
we approach the brain, which interiorly expands. A bright
point passes out, and in its passage draws with it all the bright
spiritual element that we have referred to, and in obedience to
certain laws inherent in the spiritualized mass, it arranges
itself into shape and form, and manifests a personality. It
may be urged here — What form, what shape, what personal-
ity ? Can any of our friends, or any of those who are wiser
than us, look within us or our friends, and see a structure
more perfectly adapted to the manifestation of intelligence
than the human form ? If any one can suggest improvements
therein, and can say that man should have been made dif-
ferently, then we would respectfully withdraw from our posi-
tion, and kindly invite that friend to occupy it, for we are sure
that he would be able to instruct 3'ou better than ourselves.
If God had seen fit to do otherwise, this present organiza

58 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

tion would never have had an existence ; the fact that it is so,
shows that the wisdom of God is perfect.

Death by accident is a fruitful cause of sending numbers
to the Spirit-world. It maybe that an individual loses a limb,
and that the loss of that limb ultimately causes final dissolu-
tion. We shall have a one-armed spirit, they would say; or,
if the individual has lost his eye, the same argument would
apply in the one case as in the other, we should have a one-
eyed spirit. The loss of a limb means the severance of the
continuity of the material structure. What of the spiritual
limb, has that been severed by the knife ? If the knife were
spiritual, possibly it would have been severed, but the knife
was only material, dealt only with material structure, severed
only a material member, for directly the vital action was sus-
pended therein, the phenomena of death commenced locally,
and thus a portion of the member rendered up its spiritual
essence, and that spiritual essence remained a reality invisi-
ble, but not the less real. Again, it will be urged that when our
friend recovers from amputation of the member, and regains his
health, he, it may be, in passing around a corner, rudely jostles
against a post, his limb, or rather the stump, comes in con-
tact with the post, does he thereby jostle and crush his spirit-
ual member ? These may appear frivolous objections, but they
are worthy of our consideration. In answer, we appeal to the
experience of our friends, that it is a known fact that those
who suffer loss of limb experience its life just the same ; if it
is the loss of a hand, there is perfect consciousness of the ex-
istence of the hand. This may be attributed to the action of
the nerves on the sensorium ; but it will scarcely prove ten-
able on analysis. If we admit the existence of a spiritual na-
ture in man, we must admit the existence of the organization
we referred to, and admitting that immortality is a fact, we
must admit the existence of a spiritual arm ; and the fact that
the outward man perceives it, admits that existence, is in itself
an argument and an evidence that such an arm does exist !
Again, it is a known fact, within the experience of surgical
science — and here we again appeal to the experience of our
friends — that a person who has lost an arm can raise the
stump, and pointing it at a wall, and gradually approaching it,
has been known to feel the passage of the spiritual arm through
the wall, the further progress of the physical member being

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD, sp

prevented directly the stump comes in contact with the wall.
The psychology of the matter is at present little understood,
but we shall yet know more of it. The malformed — and sad,
indeed, are many of the malformations affecting humanity —
what of them ? Of course, our friends will know that the for-
mation of the structure is caused by the operation of certain
principles ; but if the operations flowing from these principles
become deranged, the results will suffer accordingly^ and the
original intention will not be fulfilled. Now, we know teat
the spiritual body is the essence of the natural body, and, a
principal being superior to an effect, the spiritual is superior
to the natural, and though while the spiritual form is resident
within the natural temple, it must conform to the laws that
concern it, yet when the spiritual body is eliminated from that
temple and placed in its own proper and peculiar state of exist-
ence, the principles that govern its formation will begin to
operate. The barriers to its action being removed, the prin-
ciples will in due time assert their full power and independ-
ence, and thus in the after-life the malformations existent here
are slowly, harmoniously and perfectly removed We know
of no sudden actions in nature, either in their natural or spir-
itual methods ; all her operations are in obedience to law, and
law works orderly, for it comes from God, who is the essence
of law and order.

Thus, a Spiritualist, contemplating the phenomena of
death, can do so with a calm countenance, with a tranquil
mind, with a joyful satisfaction ; for he knows that a friend
has fulfilled the mission in the natural life designed by our
Father, and that in obedience to the command of that Father
he has been drawn from the regions of time to the spheres of
eternity, there in a land of happiness to expand and grow^
beautiful ; to become a joy to himself and others ; to pass into
that bright morning-land of the spirits' home, where the day
of existence first truly begins to dawn ; where the sun of intel-
ligence casts its beaming rays on every object; where man
feels in fact that he has just begun to live ; where he realizes
that God is great and powerful ; that man is weak, insignifi-
cant and fallible, and that he is ever dependent upon this infi-
nite source of good and beauty for all the happiness he enjoys
in every condition.

6o THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

DeatK Coi\si6ere6 6y Spirit Lacretas.

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS COMPREHENSIVELY ANSWERED.

VARIOUS DETAILS OF DEATH EXPLAINED ''THAT WHICH" COM-
PREHENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED DEATH AND CHANGE.

LucRETUS — I have come to you to respond to your ques-
tions.

Inquirer — No subject is more worthy of the careful and
serious attention of mortals than that of death, and I desire
such information thereon from 3'ou as you may see fit to impart.
You, of course, passed through the change called death?

LucRETUS — Most assuredly, sir. No one can escape from
passing through that glorious change which causes the soul
to emerge from the material side of life and enter the spiritual
realms. My transit to Spirit-life w^as caused by consumption,
and I gave the various stages through which I passed a careful
and critical examination. Under the influence of that disease,
my mind retained its ordinary brilliancy to the last — indeed, it
became, at times, grandly illuminated, and I caught a glimpse
of the Spirit-world, though I regarded the scenes presented,to
my vision as tantasms of the brain — illusions resulting from
extreme nervous prostration. I died gradually, like the fading
of a glorious summer da}^, or the expiring of a lighted taper.

Inquirer — Indeed, sir, your experiences are worthy of
being recorded in the pages of history.

LucRETUS — During my sickness I learned an important
lesson. When first prostrated by disease, I weighed 175
pounds, and after suffering therefrom several months, I only
weighed 93; and before my spirit was freed from its prison
cage, 1 was reduced to 75 pounds in weight; 100 pounds of my
body had already died — passed awa}^, vanished, no one knew
whither! This gradual waste consisted in the dispersion of
many of the molecules that composed my system, through

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 6i

regular disintegration or sloughing off. In health, all the mole-
cules of the body are harmoniously wedded ; but in sickness,
they are placed in discordant relations. One hundred pounds
of my system, at a certain period of my sickness, no longer
existed in connection with my organism. Mortals w^ould say,
then, that only 75 pounds of the original 175 died, for I
weighed the former when I finally passed away. The mole-
cules of my body continued to be dissipated so long as my
spirit remained attached to it, when finally the vital forces were
completely exhausted.

Inquirer — Please explain what you mean by a molecule.

LucRETUS — Sir William Thomson, the distinguished scient-
ist, introduces a very pretty example of the size and nature of a
molecule. He imagines a single drop of water to be magnified
until it becomes as large as the earth, having a diameter of
8,000 miles, and all the molecules to be magnified in the same
proportion ; and then concludes that a single molecule will
appeal, under these circumstances, as somewhat larger than a
shot, and somewhat smaller than a cricket ball. Each mole-
cule may be composed of two or more atoms, and it is the
smallest portion of matter that can exist in a free or uncom-
bined state. Now imagine, if you please, that the body is
composed of particles of matter the size of a marble ; continue
to dwell upon it with the mind's eye, diminishing it in size,
until it disappears from the natural eye, but through the in-
strumentality of the microscope you are still able to prove its
existence. Continue to decrease its dimensions until your
microscope will no longer render it visible. Though reduced
in size and not visible to the eye aided by the microscope, — it
still exists as a molecule, of which the human organism is com-
posed ; like a house constructed of bricks ; each brick as a
molecule could be seen by the eye ; but those which compose
the body, when separated, become invisible. In the aggregate,
you can see them, as you can a drop of water. You deal
altogether with matter ; we with both matter and spirit, and
when I tell you that the human system is composed of in-
numerable molecules, and that each molecule contains several
atoms held together by attractive forces, and that all of them,
under certain circumstances, are subservient to the indwelling
spirit, then, even, you can hardly realize the fact. Within the
system animals are constantly being evolved. Some of them

62 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

are plainly visible to the naked eye. Others can be brought to
light through the aid of a microscope, while there are millions
so very small that the mortal eye will never be favored with a
sight of them. There is not an animal in existence that a form
resembling it cannot be found in the physical organism. Could
you see them in the putrid fevers, gaze at their manoeuvers in
loathsome ulcers, or behold their various motions when the
system is in perfect health, you would be astonished. Please
bear these thoughts in mind, for I shall frequently allude to
them hereafter.

Inquirer — What were your sensations during your sick-
ness ?

LucRETUS — Peculiar, indeed. My mind grew brilliant just
in the proportion that the molecules left my body. When loo
pounds of them had vanished, gone on other missions, my
mind was, at times, beautifully illuminated, and I not only saw
spirits surrounding me, but I beheld the magnificent scenery
of the Spirit-world.

Inquirer — Did you realize that you saw spirits and the
scenery of the Spirit-world ?

Lucretus — No, not at the time. I thought that it was all
an illusion. During my sickness, I lived in dream-land, as it
were. Birds of beautiful plumage and gaudy colors ; celestial
beings dressed in elegant attire ; and picturesque scenes of
different kinds, were constantly before me. In proportion as
I grew weak, my mind became illuminated. When the body
is dead, as you term it, the spirit can by no possibility remain
attached to it. The last I remember in connection with my
disease, I heard my attendant physician declare that I was
dead. I seemed then to sink down, as if falling from a high
mountain, and in a moment I became unconscious. When J
awoke, I was surrounded by my friends in the Spirit-world.
Since that memorable period, I have witnessed many deaths.

Inquirer — Was not your death accompanied with great
pain ?

Lucretus — None whatever. Generally a person is uncon-
scious when passing through certain stages of death, though
not always. While on earth, the spirit is compelled to assume
a dress corresponding with the plane on which it lives. You
are simply a materialized spirit — eo substantial is its outer
form, that it only vanishes through gradual disintegration or

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 63

decomposition. When a spirit returns to earth and enters the
sphere or aura of a physical medium, it becomes a central
attractive point. Allow me to say that there proceeds from
each person an emanation, partaking of every characteristic of
each organ of the body. That emanation I regard as the
sphere, radiating influence, or aura. In physical mediums it
is very dense. I enter the aura of a physical medium, and
each organ of my spirit body attracts therefrom a material
which corresponds with each physical organ. Around my
spiritual eye, a retina, cornea, and optic nerve are formed, con-
necting with the brain. In connection with my spiritual ear,
a material auditory nerve is constructed, which enables me to
hear different earthly sounds. This process ccntinues until I
have a genuine physical system corresponding with the plane
on which you live. Now, when that organism disintegrates, it
returns to the medium from whom I procured it. When your
physical system disintegrates, or decomposes, it returns to the
earth, whence obtained. I have often assumed a material form
since I passed from earth. In so doing, I can come in contact
with matter, and to a certain extent control it, which I could
not do otherwise. When I surrender my materialized form to
the medium from whom it is temporarily borrowed, I am then
immediately transferred to the spirit side of life, but in no case
is it death. When conditions are favorable, it is as easy to
form a physical covering for the spirit, as it is to make water
ftom invisible gases. Water, you well know, can be decom-
posed, rendered invisible to the eye, yet in a flash it can be
brought back to its original state, and adapted to the use of man.

Inquirer — You, then, take the position there is really no
death?

LucRETUS — Death is only change. The world to-day, in
some respects at least, reasons to very little purpose. The
opinion generally entertained that death is something terrible,
and always to be avoided, is without a particle of foundation.
It is a most desirable change, transferring each one to the
spirit side of life. During my protracted sickness, my dreams
and visions were beautiful. The grandeur of the Spirit-world
frequently delighted my enraptured vision, and my soul seemed
to float in the aroma of spirit flowers. Angelic music thrilled
my soul, and gave me a foretaste of Spirit-life. Angelic chil-
dren came and spread flowers on my bed, sang their sweet

64 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

songs, and enveloped me with their hallowed influence. In
fact, it was delightful to die. The presence of these children,
so pure, lovely and innocent, shed over me a silvery light that
only spirit eyes could see.

Inquirer — But what has that to do with dying ?

LuCRETUS — Indeed, much. Nothing so sublimely assuages
the last moments of the d3dng as the presence of spirit chil-
dren. They come w^th cheering songs of welcome ; their feat-
ures are radiant with unsullied love ; their voices are musically
sweet and their appearance angelic. Their influence cor-
responds with their nature. Often when nervous, weary and
completely exhausted by my sickness, they would come, and
with their soothing songs lull me to rest.

Inquirer — But such is not the lot of all. You were me-
diumistic, perhaps, hence sensed their presence. How about
those who could not ?

LucRETUS — Each one, more or less, is subject to spirit
influence. Angelic guardians are ever near you. You may
not realize their presence or genial influence ; nevertheless they
affect you in a great variety of ways. At times they surroimd
the bed of the sick, and watch with tender solicitude every
symptom of the disease. They are rver anxious to do good.
They always superintend the new birth, attend to the wants of
the new-born spirit, and occasionally are required to take it to
a hospital in Spirit-life to recuperate. The spirit is often very
weak when the transition is first accom.plished. When held
for a long time in contact with a putrefying bod}^, it suffers
therefrom ; it cannot be otherwise. The natural home of the
spirit is not in a body wasted by disease, and when liberated
therefrom it feels, temporarily, the bad effects arising there-
from. Supposing such a spirit should be ushered into Spirit-
life without any one present to render assistance, it would be
miserable indeed.

Inquirer- — That, indeed, is curious. I did not suppose
the effects of disease extended in the least degree to Spirit-life.

Lucretus — The new-born babe is not more helpless than
many new-born spirits ; nor do they require less care. There
are physicians in Spirit-life as well as with you.

Inquirer. — Is it well to prolong life under certain condi-
tions ? I wish to present to you the following, from Cham-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 65

bers' Journal, and ask you if it would not be better for them
to die: **Not long since we paid a visit to the Hospital for
Incurables, established on Putney Heath, in a house which
was once the residence of the Duke of Sutherland. Glancing
at some of the patients strolling about the grounds, and look-
ing at interior arrangements, there seemed to be a generally
diSused cheerfulness. * Have you been long confined to bed ? '
we asked of a pleasant, neatly-capped old lady, who was
propped up in bed by pillows.* * Seven years, sir,' she replied ;
but added cheerfully, *but I do not suffer much, thank God.'
After visiting a few more wards, seven years of bed appeared
to us, by comparison, but a moderate confinement. Shortly
afterwards, we found ourselves talking to another old woman
who had been for no less than five-and-thirty years in bed.
Spine disease, coupled with an internal malady, had kept her
there. There was no propping up with pillows for her ; a
rope was suspended from the top of the bed, with a little
wooden handle for her to clutch with her hand, and turn her-
self in bed. 'Five-and-thirty years; but it cannot be long,
now, sir ; it must soon be over now.' Poor old woman ! For
many years she used to receive the visits of a son and daugh-
ter there ; but now the daughter is dead, and the son is him-
self stricken down by hopeless illness ; so the poor old soul
is left alone, and consoles herself by thinking that 'it cannot
last long now.' The visit of a stranger — especially one of the
male sex — to these wards is a pleasant excitement to the in-
mates ; the presence of an outsider appears for a moment to
bring them into communication with that great w^orld from
which they are so hopelessly cut off. They love to hear some
talk of the things which are being done and spoken of there,
and then — poor old souls — it is touching to hear them turn
from these to themselves, and pour into the listener's ear a re-
cital of their own sufferings. There are those whose blessed
privilege it is to go to such bedsides as these, carrying with
them words of comfort and consolation ; but this is not given
to all ; and it is something for us, rank and file, to know that,
even with our little worldly commonplaces, we can divert or
cheer these sufferers for a moment. Assuredly, too, there is a
lesson for us in the deep gratitude which these poor creatures
express for the slightest alleviation of their lot ; a deep lesson
for us who fret and grumble at all the little trifling worries

66 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

which beset us in our everyday life. At the end of the long
corridor on the first floor we came upon the case which im-
pressed us most of all. On a bed placed in the corner of a
pretty, cheerful room, so as to command a window on each
side, a girl w4th a beautiful and intelligent face, lay stretched
upon her back. A profusion of light broAvn hair surrounded
her head and covered the pillow — alas ! the hair will never be
gathered up to adorn that shapely head. From her neck down
she is hopelessly paralyzed ; not a limb can she move, not a
finger can she raise ; with her whole body stiffened, as it were,
into stone, she has lain there for twelve years upon her back.
Everything that considerate thought can devise has been done
to mitigate her lot. Two large looking-glasses are so arranged
over her head as to reflect the view from each of the windows,
and show the pleasant Surrey landscape stretching away as
far as the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. It is a skillful
method of bringing before the eyes of the invalid the green
fields and lanes in which she will never walk. A girl yet —
she cannot be more than 30 years of age — she has lain there
motionless for twelve long, weary years. The male wards
present much the same appearance as the' female, except that
the male patients*are in a considerable minority — about one to
three. Men are always worse patients than women ; but here
even the men are cheerful and contented. An elderly gentle-
man, blind and paralyzed, after a very animated talk with us,
related how, on the day before, he had celebrated the fifteenth
anniversary of his admission into the hospital. 'Yes,' ex-
claimed another man, who was stretched on a wheeled couch
unable to move, 'and I had come in just a fortnight befor e.'
Very touching is the intimacy and friendship which exists be-
tween some of those occupying the same rooms, who h ave
been, perhaps, united for years by a common bond of suffer-
ing, and who know that they will still continue to be neigh-
bors until one or other of them shall have been released by
death. Such, then, is a glance at one of the more prominent
of the hospitals for the reception of incurables. About the
good work it is doing in assuaging the last stages of human
suffering, there can, we think, be little doubt ; and looking to
the nature of the institution, we can hardly class it with those
charities which seem to create a demand that tends to weaken
a wholesome, independent exertion. " Would not the incura-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. 67

bles be justified in committing suicide, considering their state?

LuCRETUS — However forlorn your condition may be on
your plane of existence, you have experiences there which can-
not easily be obtained in Spirit-life. If you sever the thread
of life, you take advantage of nature's intentions, and cut short
your mission on earth. Pain sometimes teaches a lesson
equally as important as that imparted by pleasure. The ex-
perience of those regarded as incurables, will be a benefit to
them in Spirit-life, and animated there by philanthropic pur-
poses, they will go forth as messengers of light striving to
prevent others from becoming like them. This earth-plane is
the rudimentary stage of existence, and primary lessons should
be learned there, and the spirit will realize benefit therefrom
throughout all eternity.

Inquirer — But does not Nature — God, perhaps — destroy
human life through the instrumentality of fire, storms, epi-
demics, volcanic eruptions, lightning, inundations, etc. ? Are
not such deaths premature ? Are not earth experiences lost
thereby ?

LuCRETUS — Most assuredly the operations of nature often
prove destructive to human life. They often seem to be irre-
sistible. A tree might be blown upon you, and lacerate in
a fearful way your body, but the mere fact of that being done
would not confer upon any one the right to commit suicide.*
Accidents are unavoidable, and death by the operations of na-
ture's laws must frequently occur. The ponderous wheels of
creation move on unceasingly, and in their diverse operations
human beings are crushed like a fly beneath the feet. Nature
in her manifold operations cannot deviate from her accus-
tomed path to save human life. If she transfer you prema-
turely to the spirit side of life, she alone will promptly furnish
compensation ; but when you assume to act for her, she re-
sponds very tardily to your demands. Under no consideration
is suicide justifiable.

Inquirer — Is it possible for one person to die twice on
earth ?

LucRETUS — Why do you ask that question ?

Inquirer — I will read the following narration of a spirit
published in the Universe, and I desire your views thereon :

''It is the soul that nerves the arm that strikes the blow
that gives victory ! Man on this earth is composed of soul,

68 THE ENC YCL OPyED/A OE DEA TIT

spirit and body. The soul is the life of God, the spirit is the
man himself, which endorses the life, and the l)()d\- is that by
which the spirit acts on material objects. The body is derived
from nature, and, like 'everything material, is subject to the
laws of matter.

''Much has been written about spirits materializing them-
selves that they may be seen b}^ mortals, but as a satisfactory
statement, one that can be easily comprehended by people of
ordinar}^ endowments, has not yet been made, I Avill, in a plain
way, give my own experience, which I think will be instructive
as well as interesting :

"I was known in earth-life as Captain Marryat, author of
Peter Simple, and other books. Having been endowed by the
good Lord with a genial, loving heart, and having labored
zealously to better the condition of seamen, when called into
another state of being, I found myself surrounded by hosts of
friends. Of course I carried with me into the new life many
errors, but as I was alwa3'S open to conviction, experienced
little difficulty in ridding myself of them. I observed, after a
lapse of a very brief period, that the great love which I had
entertained for my fellow-men, literally burned out my per-
sonal peculiarities, and the light in which I began to live was
gloriously bright. With increasing wisdom and love, it oc-
"curred to me that I still might be of use to mankind, if I could
but find the means of communicating with them. While on
earth, or rather while I occupied my natural body, I had occa-
sionally seen spirits, and had thought much on the subject of
ancient and modern Spiritualism, and it occurred to me in my
new state that I would make an effort to re-visit the earth for
the purpose of doing good. The beauty of spiritual life is,
that when a person has an ardent desire for an3^thing, the
means to obtain it is always at hand.

''I re-visited earth in spirit, but felt its noon-daylight,
compared with the light of the world of spirits, the very black-
ness of darkness, and although I was never troubled much with
fear, I felt a kind of shudder steal over me, at the idea of again
mingling amid the scenes of earth. But the idea of doing good
soon overcame this sensation, and I began looking for the
means of making myself visible on earth. Dr. Franklin came
to me, and I became his pupil. He showed me the process by
which I could readily improvise a material body, and retain it

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 69

as long as I pleased, but stated that the moment a spirit
clothed itself with matter, it became subject to the laws of
matter, felt heat and cold, hunger and thirst, sickness a nd
sorrow, and that a process analogous to death had to be en-
dured when the body was thrown off. As I never drea ded
death, and was pretty familiar with the trials of life, I dared all
that the learned doctor said was incidental to taking on a ma-
terial body. We then went to work, and after many experi-
ments, I became master of the science, and found myself a
man mingling in the busy scenes of life once more. The doctor
and myself made many visits, in company, to poor people and
helped them, and they knew no other but that we were mortals.

^^But this was not the height of my ambition ; I felt a
3earning desire to reform the world, which the good doctor
perceived, and smiled at my ardor, while he explained that
other means than those to which we were having recourse v ere
then in progress by advanced spirits. He had merely gratified
my curiosity by showing me the process of clothing myself
with a natural body. Weary with walking, and hungry, the
doctor suggested that we should rest under the shade of a tree,
and throw off our material bodies ; but, being near the banks
of a river, I preferred to jump in and be drowned. We sep-
arated ; I took to water and soon found myself in the world
of spirits, but the doctor proposed to die where he was. We
met, however, in the world of spirits, and then he explained to
me that man must be reformed in freedom. The various angelic
societies were operating on mortals, to make the conditions
more favorable for their being'able to receive truth in a rational
way and of their own volition. He, moreover, stated that he
had entertained the same ideas as myself, of working among
men, but was shown that it was not in the order of Providence.

"The Lord had permitted the present influx of Spiritualism
for two reasons : First, to convince those who desired to be
convinced, that man does exist an intelligent, rational being,
capable of immortal happiness, independent of the natural
body, and to give the poor and oppressed hope to buoy them
up when cast down by the darkness of earth-life. Many spirits
can clothe themselves with natural bodies, but it causes them
great pain, for frequently the diseases of which they died attack
them, and all the sorrows of their first departure are repeated.
We know that earth-life, at longest, is but a troubled dream,

70 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

and, knowing this, we are less anxious about the wants of the
body — for these constitute the principal ills of life — more than
you would be apt to suppose. Having no fear of the pangs of
death, I frequently embody myself and walk among the crowds
of earth.

"The angels of the Lord, His messengers to do His will,
possess powers of which we who have recently left the earth
know but little. They can appear at any time they please
without being subject to the laws of matter, and can do any-
thing that may be required of them, because their will is
merged in the will of the Almighty.

"The people of earth, who have a longing desire to see
their friends, ought to reflect on the probable pain they would
have to endure. This is apparent, even in the case of mediums,
when taken possession of by spirits. They exhibit the contor-
tions which marked their departure from earth. Besides, let
the bereaved remember, that to see their friends would not be
enough, they would wish them to remain with them, and be to
them what they were before death. This would not only be
contrary to the Divine order, but would be an unmitigated evil
in itself to the spirits who had escaped from the sorrows of
earth, to a world where neither sin nor death can enter, and
where the redeemed of the Lord live in His presence forever.

"But spirits are making great progress in simplifying the
means of communication with mortals, so that in the lapse of
a few years every family will be able, under certain conditions,
to hold intelligent intercourse with their departed friends.
Some of the sanguine spirits predict that they will be able to
appear in our pulpits and lecture-rooms, and speak with wis-
dom from on high for the upraising of humanity. From all
that I can see and hear in the world of spirits, it is evident to
me that the oppression of the poor by the avaricious is drawing
to a close, and that a new order of social and political life is
close at hand. Let mortals, therefore, take courage, and trust
in the Lord, and do good while they pray : Lord, as in Heaven,
on earth Thy will be done !

"It may be necessary to add that most of the spirits who
appear at circles draw their covering from the parties by whom
they are surrounded, but do not build up bodies from external
nature like those with which Franklin and myself clothe our-
selves. The means, however, by which spirits make themselves

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 71

visible and tangible are so various and numerous, that even
Franklin himself, with all his knowledge, could not describe
them. Some can flash themselves, quick as thought, into view,
while others have to labor long and assiduously to produce
even a simple rap on a table. But let our friends on earth be
sure of one thing, and that is this, that all Heaven is interested
in their welfare."

Anyone would infer from the above that a spirit could pass
through the death-scene as often as desirable. What is your
opinion in regard to this matter ?

LucRETUS — I have never known a case of this kind, although
I have heard it frequently discussed in the Spirit-world. I do
not believe it impossible ; indeed, I have long since ceased to
cry humbug ! at even the most exaggerated declarations and
statements in reference to what can be accomplished by the
power and skill of man or spirits. Glance for a moment at the
physical mechanism of a sheep. It roams over the rich pas-
turage, nips the tender blade of grass, laves its thirst in the
running brook, and breathes the fresh air, and strange to say
a coat of snowy whiteness comes forth on its body. The com-
plex, chemical laboratory of the animal manufactured the wool
from grass, water and the atmosphere. When a little lamb it
only weighed five pounds, but now it weighs seventy. From
those three sources, its chemical laboratory extracted sixty-five
pounds of mutton. This is, indeed, astonishing, how an animal
weighing only five pounds can finally become such a self-acting
manufacturing establishment, making from ten to fifteen pounds
of wool a year. Now, in elucidation of my subject, I desire to
say that it is possible to go direct to the elements and make
wool therefrom. You on earth who desire wool to form various
fabrics, must procure sheep to produce it for 3^ou. They go
to the grass, etc., for it ; and w^ere you wise enough you could
go there, too. Look at the butterfly with its gaudy colors ; at
the birds of the air with their beautiful plumage. Each one
carries a different chemical laboratory. That which can create,
evolve, or form a bird, must as a natural consequence under-
stand all about the chemical apparatus it carries, and must be
superior thereto. That which can construct the butterfly, with
its variegated hues, must necessarily thoroughly comprehend
the blending of colors. That which can bring into existence a
seed that can germinate and unfold a beautiful blossom, must

72 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

be an excellent florist. In fact, That which creates animals that
can produce wool, milk, soft fur, beautiful feathers, etc., from
grass, must be able to accomplish the same thing, himself,
herself, or itself ^ without any aid from them whatever. Now, I
am not required to go to That which, the great Creative Power,
to find the skill requisite to evolve articles of diet. Chemists
in Spirit-life already understand that process. When this earth
shall have become so densely populated that animals must be
dispensed with, that knowledge will be imparted to earth's
children, which will enable them to go direct to tJic source for a
supply of milk, butter, fruits, etc. That intellect must, indeed,
be narrow in comprehension that does not consider the human
mind superior to the body of the sheep, bird or cow. I know
that it is possible for a spirit to assume a physical body, which
it obtains from certain elements. The time will come, I think,
when it can be so materialized as to be retained indefinitely.
Materialization is yet in its infancy. Ten years will work
marvelous changes. If a spirit assume a physical organization,
it must be dissipated before it can again enter Spirit-life. Of
course, such would be death to the body organized.

Inquirer — Your ideas are peculiar, sir, in relation to this
question. You seem to coincide with the statements of the
article.

LuCRETUS — Puny child of earth, how narrow your compre-
hension ! Of the sublime realities of the sciences, as existing
in Spirit-life, you and the denizens of earth know comparatively
nothing. If Mr. Field of the Atlantic cable notoriety could
stand in New York, and with a battery no larger than a thim-
ble, and with only one drop of water, move a piece of iron in
England (the hammer for telegraphing), what estimate do you
put upon the power of him who has been in Spirit-life for
100,000 years ? Indeed, it is towering, grand !

Inquirer — Will the time ever arrive when death will not
occur ?

LucRETUS — The earth will ultimately become so spiritual-
ized and refined, that when death takes place, the consciousness
will probably be retained throughout. The earth is exceedingly
gross yet, and the emanations therefrom are not favorable for
advanced spiritual growth and development. The conditions
now, however, are just what are absolutely required. The
ancient saurian monsters could not live in the atmosphere of

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 73

to-day a single moment. Their gross natures required gross
conditions. Those human beings who first inhabited the earth
plane, living in caves and holes in the ground, could not sur-
vive a month if alive at this time. The physical condition of
this planet is gradually improving, and as it advances, the
human race steps forward and assumes a higher condition.
The physical form of to-day is far less gross than that which
existed twenty thousand years ago. Physical man has nothing
whatever to do with the motion of the earth in space ; nothing
whatever to do with its advancement in the refining process
which is constantly going on. But -4ie moves grandly along,
advancing just as rapidly as its physical condition will permit.'
The time will arrive when the physical body will become so
spiritualized that there will be but little resemblance between
it and those possessed by mortals at present. Death then will
lose all of its terrors.

Inquirer — Does the imagination ever cause the death of
any one ?

LucRETUS — Most assuredly.

Inquirer — I desire your opinion on the following : A New
York paper, I think the Brooklyn Eagle, has been discussing
this question, as to whether Entwistle, a printer, died from the
effects of hydrophobia or the action of the imagination. He
was bitten in early spring-time by a dog, and in about three
months, when several were dying from hydrophobia, he was
attacked by the disease. Then this is related of the gardener,
at either Heidelberg or Gottingen. He was working in the
garden on a fresh spring morning, in the very prime of health.
A student passed him with the words : —

*' Ah, Fritz, passed a bad night, eh ?"

**No, sir. Never felt better. "

"I'm glad to hear it. Thought you looked pale. Your
garden looks beautiful, Fritz."

''Thank you, sir."

Comes along another student.

" Good morning, Fritz."

''Good morning, sir."

"System a little out of order ?"

"No, sir !"

"You look bad, heavy-eyed, and pale."

"Didn't know it, sir."

74 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

''A mere spring debility, I suppose. Good morning/"

Fritz (solus): I do feel a sort of q^ueer like.

Comes along a professor.

**Well, Fritz, how are the violets ?"

** Beautiful, sir, beautiful."

** You don't look very beautiful. What's the matter witlr
you ? Let me see your tongue. Your forehead clammy, too.
I think you'd better go home to bed, Fritz."

*'I do feel queer, sir."

'*I should think you would. Go to bed. Keep quiet for
a few days. "

^*I believe I will, sir."

'*I see Dr. Broeck coming this way — ask him. Good day,
Fritz. I'm sorry to see you in this state."

'*Good day, sir."

Up comes the doctor.

** Doctor, what's the matter with me ?"

**Springoliana, Fritz, evidently. Go to bed, my man.
And here, send this to the dispensary, and take a tablespoonf ul
every hour. Don't eat till I see you again. I'll call after the
lecture is over, however. Be very careful. I'll bring Doctor
Wolff with me to see you. It's a curious case, very curious. "

Fritz went to bed. The doctors came. They walked on
tiptoe ; spoke in whispers. They darkened the room. They
gave him medicine — pure water, and pills made of bread, in
order to affect his imagination. They left him. That night
Fritz grew weaker and weaker ; and in the morning the stu-
dents and the faculty were shocked with terror and horrified
in the midst of their laughter at poor Fritz's fears, when his
weeping daughter came to tell them that her stout, strong
father of 29-odd years lay dead at home — dead of a phantasy.
There is no case better authenticated.

LucRETUS — Allow me to say before responding, that I
use the word *Meath," indicating thereby a change, or the
transition of the spirit from earth to Spirit-life. There is no
death ; that is, no cessation of life on the part of any indi-
vidual. You desire my opinion on the incidents you have re-
lated. I again state that the mind can effect the same molec-
ular disarrangement in the system as the virus of the mad dog.
It is in all respects hydrophobia, and the bite of such a person
would communicate it to others. The imagination of poor

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 75

Entwistle, no doubt, caused his illness. You take a good psy-
chological subject, and a powerful operator can, in a short
time, make him possess every symptom of hydrophobia, and
if he does not restore him to his normal condition, death
would soon ensue. The imagination only destroys life when
the same molecular changes take place that the real malady
itself would evolve, and no person could ever imagine himself
into an attack of hydrophobia who is not familiar with some
of the symptoms of the disease. The insane in Europe never
fancied they saw a spectral Indian until after Columbus had
discovered Indians in America, and returned with some to
his native land, although in their illusive moments they were
constantly seeing negroes. The imagination is, therefore,
so^metimes productive of real sickness — of hydrophobia, the
virus resulting from which is almost certain to cause death.
Dr. Abercrombie relates the case of those having epileptic fits
caused by one thus affected, who was taken into their pres-
ence. The disease, however, disappeared when he threatened
to apply a red-hot iron to the body of the one re-attacked. It
is needless to say that the malady did not return. Then, there
was Fritz — his death might have occurred in the same manner
mentioned. His imagination — the influence of his mind — gen-
erated the same molecular action that a malignant disorder
would, and those who produced the morbid state were guilty
of murder. To illustrate : When certain drugs are taken into
the stomach, molecular agitation follows, terminating in. vom-
iting. A highly-sensitive lady sits down to eat a plate of
strawberries, when a loathsome worm is exposed to her view,
and she commences to vomit. The influence of her mind in-
duced the same results that the medicine did. The mind pos-
sesses the power, under certain well-defined conditions, to
produce any disease. It has caused cholera, malignant fevers,
epilepsy, hydrophobia, etc. Cases of thorough purging of the
bowels have arisen solely from the exertion of the will. Dis-
ease does not exist within the mind, but the power to cause
peculiar molecular results does. Such deaths are as painful
as if induced by the influence of the malady itself, independ-
ent of the thoughts. There is a mental cure for some diseases
as well as a mental cause therefor. He w^ho trifles with the
imagination of the sensitive, should be careful or disastrous
effects will surely follow. The influence of the mind upon the

76 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

physical system is very strange indeed. The thought of a
plate of luscious fruit incites a flow of saliva. How could
that be produced without a change, in some respects, of mo-
lecular action? Sir H. Holland said: ''There is cause to
believe that the action of. the heart is often quickened or oth-
erwise disturbed, merely by centering the consciousness upon
it." Any organ of the body can be influenced, and its action
modified, by directing the attention closely to it. The potent
influence the will has on various physical organs, was recog-
nized by Dr. Armstrong, and he cured an aneurism of the
aorta with a slight purgative, ossification of the heart with a
blue pill, and chronic diseases of the brain with a little Epsom
salts. You are familiar, no doubt, with the incident related of
a lady in Massachusetts, who cured herself of a disagreeable
tumor by simply rubbing the hand of a dead person upon it.
This favorable result was accomplished through the instru-
mentality of her mind alone. A medical student was once ini-
tiated by a sham process into the Masonic Order. His eyes
were bandaged, and then his arm was so acted upon as to in-
duce him to believe it was cut, and then the dropping of wat( r
so completely deceived him that he fainted.

Inquirer— If the mind can cause disease, can it not
cure it also ?

LucRETUS — Most assuredly, if the right molecular action
can be induced. It is easier, however, to cause it than cure
it. It is easier always to destroy than re-construct. Disease
can be evolved without much trouble, but to effect a cure is
often very difficult. The imagination, or pernicious influence
of the mind, is a prolific source of premature deaths. Thus
the fear of cholera originates the dire disease, the symptoms
of which being in the mind, are imparted to tJie molecules of the
system. In hydrophobia, induced by the virus of a rabid ani-
mal, the symptoms are first manifested in the body ; but when
caused by the imagination alone, they are at first ivitJiin the
mind only, and they exist there in such intensity that the}^ are
imparted to the body. It is a well-known fact that, in many
instances, physicians die of the disease that they make a spe-
cialty of treating. The symptoms of the disease are so care-
fully studied and dwelt upon that finally they are impressed
upon their own molecules.

Inquirer — Cannot partial death of the body occur? Here

\

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 77

is a peculiar case. One of the principal actors, Herr Wellen-
beck, connected with the Meiningen court company, at Berlin,
Prussia, and who takes the part of Pope Sixtus, had been per-
fectly blind for three years. Few people who attended the
performances ever imagined for a moment, however, that the
actor who moved with such ease and precision on the stage
before them did not see the scenes around him. Fortunately
for him, his affliction did not come upon him until he had
been for some years a member of the Meiningen troupe, so
that he knew the boards by heart when blindness came upon
him. His colleagues are very devoted to him. Whenever a
new piece is to be given they undertake many rehearsals in or-
der to make the blind actor feel at home in his new role. The
drama of '-'Pope Sixtus" was quite new to him, and a critic
who knew of his affliction wrote how he trembled for fear of
the actor making false steps. But he moved about and as-
cended the throne with safety and dignity. *' Since my eyes
died," said the actor to this critic, *' I see everything clearer
with the nerves of the brain. Life concentrates itself in my
head, undisturbed by the external world, which for me no
longer.exists. "

LucRETUS — A portion of the brain ma}^ be removed, and
still the vigor of the mind be not impaired in the least. The
arms and legs may be amputated, the eyes destroyed, the au-
ditory nerves rendered useless, the tongue severed from the
mouth, and other parts of the body cut off, yet life remains,
and the brain loses none of its brilliancy. Your external cov-
ering— the outer dress of the spirit — is composed of innumer-
able molecules, which are extracted from the food you eat,
water you drink, and air you breathe, and therein may be
found all the constituents of the animal, vegetable and mineral
kingdoms. There are animalculae in your body resembling in
a marked degree the lizard, snake, worm, etc., etc., and
therein the great mystery of man's organic structure li(3s. Let
the mother, who is nursing in the womb an embryonic child,
be frightened by a snake at a certain period of gestation, and
she arouses thereby all the molecules in her body which are
in the form of that animal, and in consequence of their in-
creased action, they so change the shape of the being she is
developing, that when it is born, // r-escinbles a snake! To
demonstrate the potent character of molecular influence, I

78 THE ENCYCLOFJEDIA OF DEATH

would refer you to an incident that occurred in San Francisco,
Cal., where a lady, Mrs. Jervis, was bitten by a poisonous ta-
rantula. She lingered for six months in continual agony, her
blood literally drying up, till she was reduced to an absolute
skeleton. Three months before her death her entire right
side became paralyzed; yet, strange to say, the hand had a
tendency to crawl, and the fingers incessantly moved like the
legs of a spider. I tell you, further, that the animalculae of
the system, in the form of animals, generate the virus that
causes hydrophobia when induced by fear, the impulse of the
mind, or by the bite of a rabid dog. These molecules are
obedient, under certain circumstances, to the action of the
mind. You have heard of men who have hoggish disposi-
tions; in them animalculae in the form of hogs predominate ;
in others that of ferocious beasts, and they are pugilists; in
the murderer animals of prey are the ruling power; in the
man or woman who is snappish, mean, and quarrelsome in
disposition — those animalculae are in the ascendency that rep-
resent such traits of character. This is one of the grandest
truths in existence.

No longer fear death! It opens the portals of the celes-
tial world, and presents to you a home, beautiful and grand.
Remember, too, that you can refine your spiritual nature only
by generous acts and high resolves. As the thought of hydro-
phobia will often induce that disease in its aggravated form,
so will the contemplation of committing murder prepare one
for the desperate deed. The thinking of doing wrong arouses
the rapacious, passionate molecules of the body and places
one in a condition where he is forced to do some bad deed. A
man nurses the intention of committing rape until his body
moves him irresistibly along to do it. He whose mind is pure
never arouses to activity the insatiate animals of his nature,
and he develops the angel within himself. I appeal to all,
then, who wish to take an advanced position in the Spirit-
world, to have their whole life distinguished by good deeds
and philanthropic purposes. Life is short on earth at most,
and the improvements there made are felt throughout all eter-
nity.

Inquirer — From what has been previously said in refer-
ence to death, it has lost to a great extent its terrors, yet
there is a dark side connected therewith that is not generally

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 79

seen. Glance for a moment at the annual report of deaths by
violence, suicide and accident in New York City, for one year.
It is appalling.

LucRETUS — Really, death by violence and accidents is
never desirable. The majority of those who commit suicide
are insane, bereft of reason. You have often heard it said in
reference to a certain individual, ''his animal nature was
aroused," and under the influence thereof he committed mur-
der, rape, or some other heinous offense. As the human body
has a distinct form, so has each molecule thereof, representing
in no small degree the whole animal creation. Occasionally
many molecules collect together, and form an animal several
inches in length. I wish here to state that when the ''animal
passions" are inordinately excited, it consists wholly of a dis-
turbance of those molecules that represent destructive poison-
ous creatures, the influence of which react upon the mind. A
suicide whom I well knew on earth was induced to commit the
rash act in consequence of the effects of delirium tremens.
Through the agency of poisonous liquor and the potent influ-
ence of his own desires, those molecules of his system which
existed in the form of snakes became inordinately stimulated,
wonderfully excited, and through a reflex action impressed
their image upon his mind, and they were as real and tangible
to him as anything that ever greeted his vision.

Inquirer — Indeed, sir, your ideas are opening a grand field
for thought. I am intensely interested.

LucRETUS — No man ever committed suicide in his sane
moments. Poisonous liquors, when introduced into the sys-
tem, inflame its destructive animalculae, and they, in turn,
influence the mind, and when inordinately stimulated, they will
control it. Accustomed to the use of liquor, these molecular
animals become topers. The original design of one's being
under their action is reversed — the intellect becomes subserv-
ient to them, and premature death follows. In all cases these
molecules should be held under subjection, and when properly
controlled, they never rebel successfully, or cause mischief.
A person commits a rape because certain passionate animal-
culae of his body become inflamed, and he cannot always resist
the impulse they impart. Man is placed in connection with
matter in order to become familiar with its peculiar character-
istics and laws. To be able to control vour own body, is

8o THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

equivalent to governing an empire. Teach those who design
self-destruction that they are the subjects of a rapacious mal-
ady, and that the only possible way to effect a cure is to change
the channel of their thoughts; impress upon them their actual
condition; teach them the effects of suicide on the spirit, and
kindly seek their aid in effecting a cure, and success will gen-
erally crown your efforts. Only secure the co-operation of the
suffering one, and you will triumph over his insane promptings.

Inquirer — But I can't understand why molecular actions
or the condition of the physical system, should sometime,
prompt a person to commit suicide. That is a mystery to me.

LucRETUs — Is it not molecular action that causes hunger,
thirst, and lecherous rapes? Is it not that which incites a
person suffering from hydrophobia to snap at, and bite others,
and to tear his own flesh? that induces delirium tremens, forms
hideous sensations within the body, and renders a person an
abject monster? that generates burning fevers and disagreeable
chills? that creates hideous phantoms within the mind? that
makes peculiar sounds when no outward noise can be heard?
that causes you to love this person or hate another? that leads
one individual to engage in fights, and another to flee from
physical encounters?

Dr. Hammond relates the case of a young man, a mem.ber
of a highly respectable famil}^, who consulted him for what he
called insanity. It appears that a few weeks previously, while
walking down Broadway, he had been struck with the appear-
ance of a lady in front of him who wore a very rich black silk
dress. Suddenly the impulse seized him to ruin the dress by
throwing sulphuric acid on it. He therefore stopped at an
apothecary's shop and purchased a small vial of oil of vitriol.
Hastening his pace, he soon overtook the lady, and, walking
by her side, he managed in the crowd to empty his vial over
her dress without being perceived. He derived so much satis-
faction from the act that he resolved to repeat it at once. He
therefore procured another supply of vitriol, and, singling out
a lady better dressed than others around her, he poured the
contents of the vial over her dress, and again escaped detec-
tion. He now began to consider more fully than he had yet
done the nature and consequences of his conduct, and the next
morning went to Dr. Hammond for advice. He stated very
frankly his entire conviction that his acts were in the highest

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 8i

degree immoral and degrading, but expressed his utter inability
to refrain. *'A handsome dress," he said, **acts upon me very
much as I suppose a piece of red cloth does on an infuriated
bull. I must attack it. The bull uses his horns, while I use
vitriol." In illustration, I might say that if you see a painting
of wonderful beauty, your eyes become brilliant, your counte-
nance illuminated, and under the effects thereof, your whole
system seems to expand, and you involuntarily praise the
author, and lend him all the assistance in your power. What
you saw acted pleasantly on the body through the medium of
the mind. The young man referred to saw a black dress, and
instead of pleasure being excited thereby, the opposite impulse
was imparted, and he was irresistibly moved to destroy it. In
both cases a peculiar molecular condition of the system was
produced, giving rise to the respective emotions. Now, one
desires to preserve his life, while another wishes to destroy it.
The incentive is within the system, the same as hunger and
thirst. The mind is not hi -igry or thirsty, but your molecules
are; it is not sick with a burning fever, but the system is; it is
not suffering from delirium tremens, but millions of active
entities in your body are. The emotion which prompts self-
destruction is within your physical form as well as the mind, —
it is a disease which requires the most careful attention to
master. The first thought of committing suicide is never car-
ried into effect. The mind dwells upon it until the living,
molecular entities of the body are in harmony therewith, for
each one has its innate feelings, and then self-murder is com-
mitted. A man never deliberate^ kills another when he first
calmly entertains the thought. Why? He must first bring his
system in harmony with his mind; he must inflame his animal
nature (the animals in his nature) before he can possibly com-
mit the heinous crime. When the mind feels intense fear, it
brings the molecules of the body en rapport therewith, and
weakness and timidity is the result. The life that surrounds
your spirit is not one individual life, but trillions of individual
lives, which influence you in your daily walks, and which com-
pose your physical organism! Man becomes a toper because
those millions of infinitesimals prompt him to. They have
been nursed, perhaps, by liquor, hence require it as an absolute
necessity. The mind may fight against it, but they triumph —
rule with an iron hand. There is the little child in the womb.

82 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

The molecules of its system are derived from the mother; the
mother is saturated with whisky, and the result is, all of its
numberless living entities are natural born inebriates, and they
eventually drive the mind to indulge them.

Inquirer — Indeed, sir, I never thought of that before.

LucRETUS — Knowing as I do that each molecule is an epi-
tome of the universe, as well as of man himself, I am led to
reason as I do. Death in all cases is principally the result of
molecular action, whether resulting from fever, the assassin,
the knife of the self-destroyer, or any other cause. Dr. Ham-
mond, I think, cites the case of Mr. R., a distinguished chemist
and an amiable man, who, feeling himself impelled to commit
murder, and fearing his inability to resist, voluntarily placed
himself under treatment. Tormented by the desire to kill, he
often prostrated himself before the altar and implored the
Almighty to deliver him from his atrocious impulse, the origin
of which he could not explain. When he felt that his will was
yielding, he went to the superintendent of the asylum and had
him tie his hands together with a ribbon. This weak band
was sufficient to calm the unfortunate man for a time, but
eventually he attempted to kill one of his keepers, and finally
died in a paroxysm of acute mania. Ah! I tell you his mind
realized his true condition, but the millions of living entities
surrounding his spirit could not be reduced to subjection, and
he fell a victim to their unyielding demands.

Inquirer — I desire an explanation in reference to the fol-
lowing: It, on one occasion, appears that a lad named Cum-
mings fell from a car at Whitehall, N. Y., and the train passed
over his arm, severing it. He, with very great presence of
mind, laid still until the train had passed, and thus escaped
further injury. When he was conveyed home, his arm was
brought after him. It was thrown into a pail, when the poor
little fellow screamed with pain. The severed limb was then
placed in a box and buried in the garden. Shortly after, he
said that something was crawling on the inside of the hand.
The limb was exhumed, when a vile worm was discovered in
the palm of the hand. A large jar was obtained, and it be-
came necessary to crowd the arm in, when the sufferer fairly
went into paroxysms of pain. The limb was placed in a jar
partly filled with alcohol, and then replaced in the ground.
The little fellow complained that his arm and fingers were in

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 83

a terribly cramped position, and that the httle finger and next
one were growing together. The jar was then taken up, when
the Hmb was found crowded and cramped as described. The
boy knew nothing of the disposition of his arm. I knew a case
in the army where a man's arm was amputated on the field of
battle, and carefully buried. The soldier was removed to a
hospital, some ten miles distant, and appeared to be getting
along very well with the exception of a constant feeling of pain
in the hand of the amputated arm. He told those in charge
of the hospital that he felt as if the thumb and forefinger were
pressed closely together, resulting in intense suffering. One
of the nurses, without his knowledge, instituted measures that
led to the disinterment of the amputated arm, when lo! the
thumb and forefinger were clasped closely together. The hand
and arm were placed in their natural position, wrapped in
woolen cloths and carefully buried. The soldier knew nothing
of these proceedings, and when the nurse, after her return,
asked him how he felt, he remarked that at a certain hour the
pain in his amputated arm ceased, the exact time when it was
disinterred. I would like to have you explain how a dead
member of the body can induce such pain?

LucRETUS — You take two minds closely en rapport^ and
though thousands of miles apart, they sense each other's feel-
ings. That assertion is too well established to be disputed.
Now, the molecules of that amputated arm were closely en rap-
poi't with those of the interior spiritual arm which it enclosed.
The two, though separated, affected each other through sym-
pathetic vibration imparted to the ether of space, and which
can influence no other person than the one to whom they be-
long. This sympathetic vibration will continue until a certain
stage of putrefaction or disintegration, when it will cease
altogether.

Inquirer — Your statements seem clear and definite. I can
now realize why an amputated member of the body may cause
unpleasant sensations in the living organism.

I will read you an item from the proceedings of the Lon-
don Anthropological Society. I desire a response thereto:
Major S. R. I. Owen said that he was in India throughout the
Indian mutiny, and was there at the time when the Fakir
was buried at Lahore. In the year 1844 he met several officers
who came from that part of the country, and it was a matter

84 THE ENCYCL OF^DIA OF DEA Til

of common talk with them, as an accepted and undeniable
fact, that the Fakir had been buried for a long time, and after-
wards revived as stated. One man was said to have been put
into a box, which was chained to the ceiling, and troops were
placed to watch it for several weeks, but the man afterwards
recovered consciousness. These things were spoken of by
those who had seen them, as unquestionable facts. The Fakir
had a wife who helped to restore him; he was able to throw
himself into a kind of trance, in which his tongue turned back
into his mouth. Sometimes he was buried for weeks together.
Mr. H. T. Marchant said that about twelve years ago there
was an Oxford student who had the power of disassociating
his astral or spirit from his body whenever he pleased, and he
was under the impression that if he remained absent long
enough for his body to get cold, he would never return to it.
Once he did let it get cold and he was not able to return; in
short, he was dead.

LuCRETUS — These are really peculiar cases, worthy of
some consideration. The vital forces of the subjects in these
cases stood exactly midway between life and death, and could
thus be held for considerable time, and then by an effort of
the will, the machinery of the system could be started again.
The student, to whom the Anthropological Society alludes,
proceeded a little too far; he went past the state where the
vital forces were resting equally distant between life and
death, and, of course, actual death followed.

Inquirer — Will you explain how this disassociating the
body from the soul is effected?

LucRETUS — That would not be in connection with the
subject under discussion — death — therefore I must defer an
answer.

Inquirer — Has music any effect on the dying?

LucRETUS — Yes, a most wonderfully benign influence.

Inquirer — I will read to you an account of the death of
Phineas Fames, who passed to Spirit-life, June 13, 1873, as I
wish to learn if such incidents as connected therewith are
common. It is as follows, as related by Mr. E. V. Wilson, at
one time a prominent worker in the ranks of Spiritualism:
**Each day and hour he impressed upon us his firm belief in
the spirits to sustain and cheer him in his birth to Spirit-life,
and as the end drew near, he told us what he saw and heard.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 85

Thursday evening he saw a vision of two boats; in one was
his wife, mother and sister, and his son who was burned. In
the other boat was the father of his wife, her brother, and
brother-in-law, the late Ingraham Gould, Esq., of Beaver
Dam. They talked with him some time, and on leaving,
said: 'We will come again, and the third time we will take
you to our spirit home.' On Friday, June 6th, he again saw
the boats and the friends from Spirit-land, and their visit
made him very happy, and for some they held sweet converse
with him about different scenes there. On Saturday morning,
about sunrise, June 7th, his 55th birthday, he said: 'Mary,
the boat has come for me. It is large, and very dear ones are
in it. ' He then called the family around him with a motion
of his arm, and taking each one by the hand, bade them
good-by, and after resting a few moments, said: 'Friends, I
am aware that my time here is short, and that soon I shall
leave you. I wish you all to know that I am a Spiritualist,
and trust that the time will come when you all will think as I
do. I am perfectly resigned to the will of God; have not a
shadow of fear, and am willing to go, only waiting for the
summons. I wish it distinctly understood that I want no or-
thodox minister to preach my funeral sermon; but a Spiritualist,
if one can be obtained. I am too weak to say more. I ask
you all to so live that you may meet me over the river.
Good-by.' During the hours of his transition he requested
music, and some one of the family was at the piano every mo-
ment, cheering him with tunes until all was over. He retained
his faculties to the last minute of earth-life, reviving every few
moments to speak a word of cheering love, and many times
during the hours of his transition he would kiss the lips of his
daughters, who occupied a place by him, Nettie on one side
and Mary on the other. Long will they remember, as well as
all the others present, the grand sublimity of this birth to
Spirit-life.

"A little before he breathed his last the Doctor called, and
as he came into the calm and quiet room where the spirit-
birth was taking place, Mrs. Gould said: 'Brother Eames,
Dr. Kippax is here.' He revived and gave him his hand, say-
ing: ' It is over. Good-by.' Then he asked for music again,
as it had ceased while the Doctor was talking. The Doctor
testified to its soothing influence in this trjdng hour that comes

86 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

to all, as he saw by the dying one's pulse how it quieted him.
Thus gently Mr. Eames was born into Spirit-life, entering
upon his journey over the river without a struggle or a groan;
and while we were singing a favorite piece of his, 'Joyfully,
joyfully onward I move,' etc., the angel friends who sur-
rounded him joined with us, and we distinctly heard their
voices of praise, and while singing, his last breath here was
drawn, and his spirit was borne to the higher life beyond the
river, at half-past ten o'clock a. m. Wreaths of white flowers
were lovingly laid upon the coffin by his children and family, as
we tenderly lowered it to its last resting-place, all fully realizing
that he was not in the casket we were placing in the ground,
but standing with us, our spirit brother, and henceforth
would become the angel guardian of his children, assisting us
in their culture and development into womanhood."

LucRETUS — The action of what is termed music is very
peculiar in its manifestations. A flame from a gas-burner
will flicker in response to its fundamental note. You may tr}^
different notes at various degrees of pitch before you succeed
in striking one that is in harmony with it. A flame that obsti-
nately refuses to notice any note that you can sing, will seem
to manifest delight at a blow of the hammer on an anvil. It
is, indeed, a sensitive flame that will respond to the lips in
kissing, but makes no movements v/hatever when any other
sound is made. As a modern writer well says: ''All struct-
ures, large or small, simple or complex, have a definite rate of
vibration, depending on their material, size and shape, which
is as fixed as the fundamental notes of the musical chord.
They may also vibrate in parts, as the chord does, and thus
be capable of various increasing rates of vibration, which con-
stitute their harmonicas." This peculiarity exists throughout
all nature. There is, as one of earth's children well says, a
universal disposition of human beings, from the cradle to the
death-bed, to express their feelings in measured cadences of
sound and action, proving that our physical bodies are con-
structed on musical principles, and that the harmonious work-
ing of their machinery depends on the movement of the several
parts being timed to each other; and that the destruction of
health, as regards both body and mind, may be well described
as being out of tune. He says further, and truthfully, too,
that your intellectual and moral vigor would be better su.s-

• AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 87

tained if you more practically studied the propriety of keeping
the mind in harmony, by regulating the movements of the
body; for you would thus see and feel that every affection
which is not connected with social enjoyment, is also destruct-
ive of individual comfort, and that whatever tends to harmo-
nize, also tends to promote happiness and health. I give his
opinion merely to show that my views have been foreshadowed
by one of earth's children. He says in conclusion, that a gen-
eral improvement in your taste for music would really improve
your morals. You would, indeed, be more apt to detect dis-
cords, but then you would also be more apt to avoid their
causes, and would not fail to perceive that those feelings
which admit of no cheerful, chaste and melodious expressions,
are at war with both mind and body.

Dr. Moore gives an account of an excellent physician, who,
having been infected through a wound while examining a body
that died of a malignant disease, soon discovered such symp-
toms in himself as warned him that he must speedily pass away
from earth. He, therefore, sent ior a pious friend to sing and
play the harp in the next room, until his spirit should be liber-
ated. This was done; the darkness of death seemed not able
to enter there; not a groan was heard, and the believer ''fell
asleep in Jesus," with the music of that name within his soul.
On the earth-plane of life, music played on a small melodeon,
or piano key-board, can be transmitted through an unbroken
circuit of hundreds of miles, and reproduced on a violin attached
to the receiving end of the wire. Music — the right kind — always
has a harmonizing effect. Loathsome serpents become quiet,
and enraged animals cease their ravings, when its delightful
strains strike upon their ears. The maniac will frequently fall
asleep when the sweet melody of a hymn sounds forth. Toads,
and sometimes rats and mice, will appear to be charmed by its
magic influence. An officer once confined in a bastile, found
himself surrounded by amateur musicians, in the form of spi-
ders and mice, whenever he played on a lute. They manifested
a sort of ecstatic pleasure in listening to him. Poisonous rep-
tiles can be attracted from their retreat by melodious, soul-
enchanting tunes. Negroes have been known to catch lizards
by simply whistling a lively air. Mozart's soul was so deli-
cately attuned that he was thrown into convulsions by the blast
of a trumpet; but he could be instantly soothed by a masterly
touch like his own. Sir William Jones states that whilst a

88 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

lutenist was playing before a large company in a grove, the
nightingales dropped to the ground in ecstacy, and only a
change of tune would revive them. Shakespeare has well said:
*' There is not the smallest orb that thou beholdest, but in
its motion like an angel sings." Indeed, **the music of the
spheres" does exist. Tyndall has stated that the Swiss mule-
teers muffle the bells on their mules for fear that the music of
their tiny tinkle may bring an avalanche down and destroy hun-
dreds of lives. The ocean has its music, even if inaudible to
the material ear, which can only take cognizance of a definite
number of sounds, those only which synchronize with its deli-
cate filaments which convey sensations to the brain. In a lake
in Ceylon are fish whose voices resemble the sweetest treble
mingled with the lowest base. The shrill notes that proceed
from the lips, or swell forth in tremulous accents from an organ,
vanishing in melodious sweetness, possess a potency that is
truly astonishing, as was beautifully illustrated in the college
chapel of Cambridge, Eng. Whenever the Dead March from
Saul was played within its walls, they would vibrate as if en-
dowed with life. They seemed to sense the enchanting influ-
ence. They would not respond, however, to any other tune.
Democritus claimed, and truthfully, too, that many diseases
can be cured by the simple melody of the flute. Asclepiades
treated sciatica successfully with the trumpet, the diseased part
vibrating in harmony therewith. Indeed, I might proceed in-
definitely, quoting authors and giving facts that have come
under my own observation in reference to the potency of music.
Its power is but little understood by the denizens of earth. Its
effects are grand indeed. There is music in all things. As
there are millions of invisible molecules throbbing with life and
buoyant with activity, so there are countless noises — beautiful
tunes played on the unseen chords of the material and spiritual
worlds, that the mortal ear cannot hear. As the mockingbird
sings sweetly its native airs, so do millions of unseen animal-
culae that surround us give expression to tunes peculiarly their
own, although you cannot hear them.

As music has a soothing influence over ferocious animals,
so has it an equally beneficial effect on ferocious diseases,
which rapaciously invade the citadel of life. There are tunes
adapted to different organisms in sickness. No tune with the
same pitch, however, is exactly adapted to two different per-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 89

sons. Whenver you touch the fundamental note of a person's
physical organism through the instrumentality of music — for
all objects, large or small, have a fundamental note — a most
beneficial change will immediately follow. Each molecule of
the body will vibrate in harmony with the music, and a
healthy, energizing condition will result therefrom. In the
case of the dying, it gives additional strength to the spirit, in-
spiring it with grand emotions, and enabling it to make its
transit much easier than it otherwise could. As a sanitary
agent, I know it has a beneficial effect. Nature is underlaid,
as it were, with the chromatic scale, and it is constantly bub-
bling with charming sounds. No one could be a miser who
listened regularly to enchanting sounds. Music and light are
the antipodes of silence and darkness. The former expands
and illuminates; the latter contracts and obscures. Nothing
is more intolerable to the human mind than continual silence
and darkness, hence harmonizing tunes and beautiful, spark-
ling lights are always beneficial around the bed of the dying.
Spirit voices will unite with yours, and when yours cease to be
heard, theirs will fall upon the new-born spirit, animating it
with lofty emotions. When the currents of life are expiring
under the influence of music, the dying one passes away as
peacefully and hamoniously as the vanishing notes that affect
him. Surround the couch of the dying with flowers; let gor-
geous lights illuminate the room, and sweet tunes sound forth
from human lips or delicately-adjusted chords, and when the
birth shall have been accomplished the new-born spirit will
thank you. Have no disconsolate funeral sermon preached;
throw a halo of cheerfulness over the scene, even if it is
tinged with a sombre cloud of sorrow. Any effect made upon
the body through the instrumentality of soothing music is im-
mediately imparted to the spirit. In some diseases it is far
superior to medicine, and its efficacy in assisting the transit of
the dying is far more serviceable than prayer. Its potency is
but little understood. In the expression, *'The morning stars
sang together," there is a grand truth. There are fascinating
strains of divine music underlying the motion of each plan-
etary system. The senses of mortals have never realized one-
billionth of the grandeur of creation. As there is active,
throbbing life beyond the ken of mortal eye, so there is soul-
expanding music beyond the reach of mortal ears. I recog-

go THE EN CYC L OFJZDIA OF BE A TH

nize death as only a change whereby each one is divested of
an outer dress composed of molecules, called by you the phys-
ical organism. Music, which incites them to vibrate gently,
harmonizes the whole being, lulls the passionate feelings to
rest, and prepares the spirit for a happy transit. Ole Bull,
when a boy, could not remain quiet under the influence of mu-
sic, for the molecules of his body would vibrate in harmony
therewith, in spite of himself. I tell you that all the passions
repose within the molecules of the body — anger, lust, love,
hate, sadness, etc., are manifested therein. In cheerfulness
the molecules of the features are grandly illuminated; in sad-
ness, the reverse. The licentious, lustful man, cannot con-
ceal his true nature. When anger is exhibited, see how quickly
the infinitesimal particles composing the face are darkened.
Music, elevating, soul-enlivening music, when life is ebbing
away, awakens the finer feelings of the nature, and they pre-
dominate, and under their influence the spii. should take its
departure. There is also a very deep significance in death-
bed repentance. There is heaven-inspiring grandeur in the
penitence of the dying man. He who spurns such a change,
even then, is no philosopher — reasons to little effect. When
the selfish passions subside, and the nobler impulses of the
nature predominate, its effect on the indwelling spirit is grand
indeed. It is like a chemical process that purifies water.
Inquirer — What! death-bed repentance desirable?
LucRETUS — Most assuredly, if it is genuine throughout,
with deep regrets that it did not take place sooner. Its effects
upon the spirits are grand indeed, and under the hallowed in-
fluence thereof its transit is far more delightful. Take, for ex-
ample, the man whose selfish passions have predominated
during a long career of licentiousness on earth; if he realize
his deep depravity, and humbly and truly asks forgiveness of
those he has wronged, then his better nature triumphs to
some extent, and the effect thereof is transmitted in a cer-
tain degree to the indwelling spirit, and his progression there-
after is rendered more rapid. Oh! how I pity that sordid
man, who does not in his last moments humbly and earnestly
ask the forgiveness of every human being he has mistreated,
and lovingly pardon every one who has trespassed against
him. A triumph of the better nature on earth is felt through-
out all eternity. Genuine death-bed repentance awakens the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRII WOMLD, 91

latent energies of every noble impulse. Oh! children of earth,
when the time for your departure arrives, let the soul go forth
in search of those you have injured, if you have not done so
before — the sooner the bette?^ — and implore their forgiveness;
make amends for the wrong you have done; and then your
nature will become illuminated with good intentions, and
your spirit will not be compelled to remain so long in dark-
ness.

Inquirer — Your peculiar views astonish me.

LuCRETUS — Ignorance is not a crime, but it leads to the
commission of serious errors. He who spurns genuine re-
pentance and tramples on forgiveness, never can progress in
the Spirit-world. Let both be exercised on the dying bed,
if never before, and the indwelling spirit will certainly be
strengthened thereby. Oh! how I pity that one who dies
when vile passions are aroused, who neither repents nor for-
gives. Within him there is a two-edged sword that he cannot
easily banish in Spirit-life. The church is right in its estimate
of the value of repentance and forgiveness, for I say that
without repentance and forgiveness there can be no salva-
tion. The dying one should be placed in harmonious relations
with all, especially those he has injured, and those who have
wronged him. Before the spirit can advance rapidly that con-
dition is very essential. If you have in any manner deprived
a dying man of his vested rights, seek his bedside and ask his
pardon, and make all honorable amends possible, for 3^ou must
do that sooner or later. Never allow an enemy to approach
the side of the dying, unless actuated with the spirit of re-
pentance and forgiveness. As well administer poison to him.
The attendants of the dying should always be inspired with
the most tender love. Hate should never have access to the
sick room. When one passes away under the influence of
malignant spite his soul is pierced with venomous arrows, and
he must pluck them therefrom in Spirit-life; on the contrary,
when his controlling a.«:: : iration is love towards all, his whole
nature is exalted thereby, as if planted in a fertile soil.

Inquirer — Why, there is no end to your peculiar views
and suggestions.

LucRETUS — A dishonest man in your spere of life ^^ill still
continue to be dishonest for a time when transferred to the
Spirit-world, and one saturated with disease there, comes here

92 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

with the effects thereof still lingering to a certain extent in his
spiritual nature. You cannot at once escape from the ills
arising from misconduct in earth life. Poisonous drugs do not
cease their nefarious work on earth; their detrimental effects
can still be observed to a certain extent upon the spirit. Of
all deaths, however, that arising from delirium tremens is the
most terrible. The animal nature is then aroused, or to render
myself understood more perfectly, the animals in the nature are
rampant, and by a reflex action the mind senses them — seems
to see them, and to it they are living realities.

Inquirer — I have a strange experience of one of earth's
children, related by J. Burns, in the Medium and Daybreak,
London, England, which I will read to you, as I desire your
opinion thereon:

** Nearly six years ago it was my duty to record in Human
Nature the phenomena attendant on the passing away of Mrs.
Burn's mother, Mrs. Anne Wooderson. Early on Thursday
morning of last week Henry de Ville Wooderson, Mrs. Burn's
father, passed through the portals leading to life eternal. The
personal experiences attendant ®n such events are so rich in
spiritual teaching, that it would be of great benefit to the world
if they were intelligently observed and carefully recorded.' The
doctors, in their * clinics,' have faithfully portrayed every
pathognomical symptom attendant upon disease and dissolu-
tion; but where is the spiritual doctor, who will do a far higher
service for humanity by chronicling the gradual development
of the spirit, and the many steps attendant upon its final sep-
aration from the body?

'*Our father had been in indifferent health for about a
year. When Dr. Newton was in this country, he was at once
relieved by that great healer from a very painful disease, which
had for a long time incapacitated him from following his usual
pursuits. A second operation by Dr. Newton produced a
further revolution in his system. He married again, and en-
joyed a considerable degree of health till his final illness, from
other causes than those removed by Dr. Newton, assailed him.
He was a man of strong constitution, and of active habits, and
as one section of the organic structure failed before the other
portions were half worn out, the process of disintegration was
long and painful. For the last three months of his earthly life
he was confined to his bed, during which time it was pleasing

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 93

to observe the gradgal development of the spirit, and the re-
laxing hold of the earth's attractions upon it. His last visit to
London was to attend a seance with Mrs. Hollis, at which he
had a conversation with his arisen wdfe. During his illness his
affections were constantly modeled into spiritual shape by his
friends in the Sprit-world. His hand would be frequently con-
trolled and the outline of writing done on the bedclothes, and
he was the recipient of frequent impressions. He tenaciously
adhered to life; and though his family knew, from conversation
with their spirit friends, that the parting was fixed to occur at
a stated time, yet they withheld the information from him, and
left events to communicate their peculiar feelings.

*'At last he became impressed that his change w^as near,
and, having a visit from Miss Lottie Fowler, he asked her
spirit-guide what her opinion was. 'Annie' candidly and kindly
stated how long physical life might last, which prognostic was
strictly correct. The sick man heard the message without pain
or shock, and more than ever turned his face spiritwards. He
became quite reconciled to depart. His affections were grad-
ually weaned from earth-life, and a peaceful anticipation re-
mained of the coming change. For several days his powers of
recognition and expression were rather fitful, but he maintained
his consciousness till nearly the last. He recognized his wife,
his children and friends, in a kindly, affectionate way, and took
farewell with all without any sign or expression of regret. He
spent much time one night in prayer to God to fit him for the
place in which he was about to enter. It was the prayer of
hope and assurance, not based upon any high opinion which
he entertained of himself, for he was quite aware of his fail-
ings, but he felt that God the Father was merciful to his child
in his great trial, and that the ways of Providence were
adapted to human needs. He thus attained complete peace
of mind, and passed away as quietly as a child falls to sleep.

**For several weeks the spirit friends were seen frequently
in attendance over the bed, and at the moment of dissolution
his arisen wife, his father, and other friends were at hand to
receive him, and help him into his new condition. He had
seen these spirits during his illness, and recognized them fre-
quently. It is to their kind offices, and the fact that the
family withheld from him the doses of brandy prescribed, that
his peaceful death ma}^ be in a great measure ascribed. 1

94 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

pause to beseech my brethren in Spiritualism not to send their
departing friends into the Spirit-world in a state of drunken-
ness. What a shocking plight! What a disgrace to dear rel-
atives to have them go into the presence of their angel friends
reeling and jabbering with intoxication. Much of the convul-
sions and struggling which so horridly mar death-beds, and
lacerate the feelings of relatives, are caused by the alcohol
given to the dying. Death is God's greatest boon to man; it
is the flowery portal to a higher sphere; it is a holy and beau-
tiful sacrament; it is the most sublime event in the career of
an individual. If so, then, mar not its beauty by an exhibition
of drunkenness.

''No one can estimate the grandeur and nearness of the
Spirit-world, nor the benefits of communion with it from public
seances and physical phenomena. These are all well enough
in their place, and I am the last to discredit them. It is asked:
What is the use of Spiritualism? May I reply it prepares us
for death. Around nearly all death-beds the action of spirits
may be observed, but particularly so in the case of those
whose minds have been opened to the teachings of the Spirit-
world. The idea of spirit-communion within the mind is the.
open door through which the spirit-message, imperceptibly ii
may be, enters. We cannot avail ourselves of a thing unless
we know of its existence. By a lucky chance, as the saying
is, one in a thousand may stumble on the unknown; but far
better it is to be informed and prepared to enjoy and profit by
the many blessings with which infinite love has surrounded us.

"We have all suffered much during this trial, but it has
been blessed to our souls. Say no more that death is an evil.
It is good both for the living and the dying. It enforces a les-
son on the former which no other experience could furnish, and
it is the salvation of the latter from disease and suffering.

''We have heard from the departed. He had to rest for
some time, and he is not quite recovered yet. He finds that
he has to 'work' in the Spirit-world. It is not a place of idle-
ness, not a place of sensual enjoyment, nor of degrading pun-
ishment, but it is a sphere of action — duty — in which all may
work out their salvation from the effects of spiritual undevelop-
nient which they may have carried with them from earth.

'/I say again, thank God for Spiritualism. It is the
grandest work that was ever confided to the hands of men to

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 95

carry forward. In working for others, we are really laying up
treasures for ourselves. It is not the profits realized by our
schemes, our little victories, and our pleasing successes in the
external work which constitutes Spiritualism, but it is the grand
process of spiritual development in the individual — in the
worker as well as in the pupil. Perhaps in the future we may
find that in trying to enlighten and bless others, we have been
thereby enlightened and blessed ourselves."

LucRETUS — Anything which interrupts the natural work-
ings of the life currents in the system, is injurious to the in-
dwelling spirit. The use of alcohol changes molecular action;
arouses, as I have said before, the animal nature (animals in
the nature) and the spirit becomes brutish. If a child be nursed
by a wolf and reared in a cave, it will walk on all-fours, and its
physical, organism will, in many particulars, resemble that ani-
mal. An Indian Avoman, who came under my careful scrutiny,
had a child covered with hair, and it resembled, in various re-
spects, a bear, the result of an impression made upon her mind
by the sight of one during the embryonic growth of her child,
and which resulted in this monstrosity. Another singular case
occurred, as you well know, in Kentucky, and which, in a very
impressive manner, illustrates the potent influence w^hich the
mind is capable of exerting on the molecules of the mother's
system, when carrying an embryonic child in her womb. It
appears that the body of the child, from the head down to
about the hips, was in form and color, with few exceptions,
very much like other white children; around the hips it was
perfectly black, its legs being like those of an ordinary child.
The head was spotted, and the hair upon it as stiff as the
bristles of a hog. A short time before its birth, a vicious wild
hog broke out of his pen, which was near the house where the
mother resided, and with devouring intent, immediately made
at a child that was playing in the yard. The mother witnessed
this scene, and so imminent was the danger, that she was
greatly terrified. She sprang to the little one's assistance just
in time to save it from the furious animal. The marks on the
child corresponded to the color-marks on the hog. The hair
on its head was simply a number of stiff bristles, projecting
out from the skin. The spirit within your body is even more
pliable and impressible than the physical organization of the
cnibiyonic child serenely reposing in the mother's womb, and

96 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

if you wish to brutalize it, arouse your animal nature, and the
result you seek will be fully accomplished. By the inordinate
use of intoxicating beverages, and by licentious practices, you
can so change the character of your spiritual organism, that it
will, in many respects, resemble a loathsome animal. To ac-
complish that is far less difficult than it is for the mother to so
mold her embryonic child that it will have the appearance of a
hog or a bear. I can only compare death to a flowing current
connecting the mundane and supramundane spheres. You can
imagine, after a little thoughtful consideration, the terrible
condition of that death-current. Once witness the staggering,
semi-idiotic expression of many who are floating thereon, and
you will see the necessity for hospitals and physicians in Spirit-
life. You can realize who are on this death-current that con-
nects the two worlds, when you glance at the half-civilized,
barbarous and savage nations.

Inquirer — What is the character of death resulting from
murder? Look, for example, at Jesse Pomeroy, that juvenile
monstrosity, who murdered Katie Curran, a little girl. How
came this boy to have such a fiendish nature .f* The only ex-
planation adduced thus far is the fact that his father was a
butcher, and that when his boy was nurtured in the mother's
womb, he was marked, in mind, with blood. The sight of
blood by the mother during that critical period sometimes im-
parts a blood-blotch to the face, which never can be erased
therefrom. It is supposed that in this instance the blood-stains
struck deep, giving an incurable bias to the brain and moral
faculties.

LucRETUS — Katie Curran was cruelly murdered by Jesse
Pomeroy, and you desire to know the character of her death.
All sudden deaths are temporarily injurious to the spirit,
especially when caused by violence. When a person dies
under the influence of terror, fright, or violence of any kind,
he awakens in Spirit-life with like feelings, and some time may
elapse before they subside or vanish altogether. Those spirits,
in nature like Katie Curran, who while on the earth-plane
passed through the terrible ordeal of being murdered, remain
for some time exceedingly nervous, timid, and wretched; but
the constant care and vigilance of kind guardians finally re-
lieves them. Effects invariably follow causes; therefore every
act or circumstance of one's life leaves its impress on the spirit.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 97

Mrs. Pomeroy, by witnessing the horrid butchery of oxen,
hogs, etc., aroused her animal nature (animals in her nature),
and the result was, she formed around the spirit of the em-
bryonic Jesse an organism composed of cruel, savage mole-
cular brutes, and they actuated him to commit murder, just as
molecular changes in your system cause you to eat by inducing
hunger. Molecular brutes possess the seeds of crime; pulsate
with inordinate appetites; incite acts of cruelty; become dark-
ened when angry and appear pleased when gratified. What-
ever their conditions may be, good or bad, they stamp their
nature on the indwelling spirit; hence how important it is to
die under genial influences, for the last impressions of earth
are the dominant ones in Spirit-life. When one expires
breathing revenge, he is the most pitiable sight imaginable; his
spirit becomes brutalized, and all his nobler aspirations dwarfed,
and it is not easy for him to overcome the insatiate promptings
of such feelings. To die properly, is one of the most important
affairs of life.

Inquirer — What was the condition of Katie Curran in
Spirit-life?

LucRETUs — At first, one of temporary misery and unhap-
piness. The dominant idea of the one just ushered into Spirit-
life, is the last intense feeling or impression made upon the
mind. The mother, who says as she yields up her spirit:
''Oh! my dear children! " when she awakens on the spiritual
plane her first thought is of them, and she tries to minister
unto them. The miser who says: **0h! my gold! " returns
to earth to hover over that. The villain who says: ''I will
have revenge!" is actuated by that feeling altogether. Poor
Katie was ushered into Spirit-life like a frightened fawn cap-
tured by pursuing hunters, and at first she was most miser-
able, and remained so until the effects of those horrible last
moments gradually vanished. He who dies with revenge in
his heart is only nursing an enemy which will render him mis-
erable; but he who dies with genuine repentance on his lips,
and is actuated with forgiveness toward all who have wronged
him, prepares his spirit for immediate progression. Not one
criminal out of a thousand, however, feels sincere in such
manifestations, and under those circumstances nothing what-
ever is gained.

Inquirer — Is hanging ever justifiable?

98 THE ENCVCLOPJEDIA OF DEATH

LucRETUs — No! The greattvr the offense the less is hang-
ing justifiable. The one who murders is true to his innate
promptings and the plane on which he lives, the same as you
are true to yourself while you eat when hungry, or drink when
thirsty. It is an offense against nature to foi'ce criminals into
the Spirit-world. Retain them on earth until the dominant
idea of their mind is to do good rather than evil. When Har-
rison died, saying: ''I wish you to understand the true princi-
ples of government, I wish them carried out — I ask nothing
more," the affairs of the nation over which he presided were
uppermost in his mind, and he passed to Spirit-life with that
expression as his dominant, actuating idea, and he continued
to feel an interest in governmental affairs. He who dies with
hate, revenge, or any sordid passion animating him, awakens
in Spirit-life with the same feelings.

Inquirer — Death certainly is an interesting subject, and
one in which all should feel a deep interest. What part do
spirits perform in the transition? Did ever anything like the
following come under your observation? It is rela-ted by Mary
Lanston Strong, writing from Da3^ton, O., Ma}^, 1873: ''Dur-
ing my labors in St. Louis, and while engaged in preparation
for the memorable 31st of March, I received a telegram bid-
ding me hasten to the sick-bed of a son at Columbus, Ohio.
I hastened only to find him unconscious to all outward things,
and but faintly uttering the name of 'Mother.' After several
days the disease seemed to yield to treatment, and a hope was
entertained of his recovery, so much so that I was making
preparations for his removal to my home in Dayton, Ohio.
When Mrs. Jennie Savage, wife of Dr. Savage, of Columbus,
Ohio, a young wife and mother, after a lingering illness of five
weeks, passed on, I was invited to assist Mrs. Coate at the
funeral, and after closing my remarks, and while yet the glow '
of inspiration was on me, a spirit came and laid a wreath of
white flowers on my lap, when instantly a clear conviction of
the truth flashed on my mind that my son would die, so much
so that I was forced to speak of it as I was going to the cem-
etery. On my return I perceived a change, and from that
time he gradually grew worse, and after four weeks of patient
suffering, Walter D. Lanston passed over, aged twenty-one
y^rs. During the lonely hours of silent night the angels were
with me, and my vision was opened. I saw the mystic river

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD 99

and the augel-cunvoy waiting for the spirit of my departing
one, the description of which may be encouraging to others,
as it was to me. For several days before his release I saw a
large circle of spirits, and gradually it grew nearer until they
seemed to touch me with their loving hands, and then as the
end came the boat that had stood on the river was entered by
myself and him; twelve mortal hours did my spirit accompany
him, and during that he frequently spoke of seeing his spirit
brothers, and once said: MVIa, which way home?' Then when
the light that had shone like morning's golden sunlight floated
over the river and made its dark waters an open doorway to
the Spirit-home, I stood and gazed wistfully after his receding
form, now made immortal by his change."

LucRETUS — You fully realize the necessity of kindly car-
ing for a mother when she is about to give birth to a child.
No less care and attention is required when a person is to be
transferred to the spirit-side of life. Spirits, kind guardians,
are generally aware when one of the denizens of earth is about
to escape from his material garb, and they then tenderly watch
over him, and aid the spirit in effecting its transit. Sad in-
deed might be the experience of the new-born spirit if left
alone. Years are often required to eradicate the deleterious
effects which are imparted to it by the physical organization.

Inquirer — The following is a strange occurence, related
by the Detroit Free Press. I would like your opinion thereon:
It appears that Henry Andre and John Schroder, both of
whom died on the same day, determined to visit Rochester,
N. Y. , together. At parting they shook hands merrily and
jocularly entered into an agreement that they would both die
on the same day. Before a week had passed Andre was dead
and Schroder was hopelessly ill, both having the same dis-
ease. Twelve hours after Andre's death Schroder screamed
out that Andre was calling him, made an effort to rise, choked
and fell back a corpse. He did not know that his friend had
died, and the facts stated in this paragraph are vouched for
by members in his own family.

LucRETUS — This indeed is a peculiar case. They had
been so closely en rapport, or so wedded in sympathy, that the
sickness of one produced a like condition in the other. There
are organisms so nearly attuned alike that they can read each
other's thoughts, and the pains of one are imparted to the

loo THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

other; in fact, they are like two strings of different instru-
ments so attuned that when one vibrates the other will re-
spond thereto. Distance — space between two such organisms —
does not in the least diminish their degree of sensibility to
each other. When Andre was taken sick the organism of
Schroder became affected in like manner, just as a sensitive
jet of gas will respond to certain notes, noises or sounds, as
before illustrated, and death immediately followed. Disease
in the human system has its vibrations resulting from molecu-
lar action, and they affect all who are in harmony or sympathy
therewith. Diseases that are not in the least contagious often
attack a whole family through sympathetic vibration.

Inquirer — But here is another case somewhat similar, re-
lated by Newton Crosland, in his work on '^Apparitions." The
author says:

"My next story reads like an extract from a superstitious
mediaeval romance; but I am assured, on the best authority,
that the incidents I am about to relate actually occurred early
in the century in a family of high position in one of the Eng-
lish counties; but names, dates and locality are purposely
concealed. A female servant in this family fell desperately in
love with her young master, an only son and the heir to the
property. Her passion seemed hopeless, as being a good,
modest girl, she kept it secret. The young gentleman treated
her with cool and polite indifference, but her love had taken
such entire possession of her soul that she could not subdue
it, and it seemed as if it was her fate to sink under the
weight of her ungratified desire. One day wherf she was go-
ing upstairs she met a, strange gentleman, who accosted her
in this style: '■ I know the secret which is eating into your life,
and I will assist you to realize your fond hope on one condi-
tion. I will endeavor to bring about a marriage between you
and your young master, provided you sign this paper, stipu-
lating that you will come to me after you have been married
to him twenty-one years.' The stranger seemed so respect-
able and earnest that the girl at once acceded to his proposal.
In fact, to obtain the object of her love she would have signed
any agreement, however harsh in its, terms. She accordingly
went into an adjoining room and signed the document which
the gentleman laid before her. He then took it away and left
her to ruminate over this singular adventure. Soon after-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD • i o i

wards she noticed a decided change in the manner of her
young master, and at last he professed the most devoted at-
tachment to her. By-and-by the engagement of these two
young persons became a matter too evident to be unobserved.
• The family endeavored to prevent such a mesalliance, but des-
tiny was against their interference.

*'In due time she was married, and entered upon her new
duties most discreetly and happily, and we are assured that
neither husband nor wife ever repented their bargain. He
was attentive and indulgent — she, wise, loving and gentle. On
their twenty-first wedding-day the husband determined to give
a grand ball. His wife acquiesced in the plan, but on the
eventful night she was observed to be depressed, and she de-
sired the assistance of her spiritual adviser; his attendance,
however, could not be procured conveniently, and she was
obliged to dispense with it. In the course of the evening she
left the drawing-room, and as she was absent a long time, her
husband went in search of her. He found her on her bed,
lifeless, with the fatal paper she signed over twenty-one years
before in her hand! "

LucRETUS — Compacts are often made between spirits and
mortals. I cannot speak from personal knowledge, however,
with reference to the character of her death.

Inquirer — Even in this enlightened nineteenth century,
when friends gather around a coffin to witness the remains of
one dear to them, a feeling of intense sadness permeates their
souls. But few can look at the physical organism, once palpi-
tating with life, once brilliant with emotions, once moving
around thrilled with the pleasures of existence, without having
aroused within the mind deep feelings of sorrow. The contrast
between the lifeless body, and its appearance when animated
and directed by the indwelling spirit, is so intensely vivid that
the mind is momentarily appalled thereby. In active, throbbing
physical life, there are divine beauties that continually manifest
themselves. In death, hQwever, they are absent.

The physical system may be regarded as a cloak, a dense
fabric, in which the impulses of the soul, whether good or bad,
can be effectually concealed from the natural vision. The
minister may commit adultery, may murder or steal, and still
his material body effectually secretes his inmost thoughts from
humanity. This is a characteristic of earth-life, and, perhaps,

I02 THE ENCYCL OP.EDIA OE BE A Til

it may be a wise arrangement in some respects. On earth,
each one is taken for what he appears to be — not for what he
really is! The measure of worth or excellence is in appear-
ances; the real condition may be a cesspool of corruption.
Supposing that Rev. John Selby Watson, of England, had been
able to conceal his horrible murder from the eyes of humanity,
he would still have been considered a noble, pure man. "When
death, however, takes place, this outer covering that can con-
ceal one's sins, is removed, and the skeletons reposing within
are exposed to view. You who are expecting to die — and who
is not? — should fully realize this important fact.

Look at that human monster — a Shylock — whose life has
been devoted to usurious transactions and the oppression of
the poor. His soul is an arid desert where the flowers of
human kindness never bloom, and where one benevolent act
on his part does not exist to cheer him with its animating influ-
ence. He never smiles approvingly on the poor and unfortu-
nate; he never was instrumental in wiping away a tear of sorrow
from a human face; he never gave a morsel of bread to the
hungry; he never clothed the naked or cheered the despondent.
He is a heartless miser; a despicable wretch! To strangers,
however, he is a model man, judging from his exterior. No
mortal eye can penetrate the deep, dark abyss of his soul,
hence, to those who do not know him, he lives a lie! But sick-
ness finally comes. In body, he is i wreck; the tide of life is
ebbing — and his race is nearly run. i{e is raving in his de-
liriums. He raises his hands to catch the phantom gold and
silver that flits before him! Finally, too weak to do that, he
gasps for breath, settles back upon his pillow, and the transit
of his spirit commences. The spectacle is of an appalling,
depressing character. I have witnessed monsters, unnatural
formations, coming from the ^oetus of a mother, but that spirit's
birth excelled all of them in hideousness. The emanation
from his body seemed to be smoky dark, and therein was
formed, just above his physical body, his spiritual organism.
It was a monstrosity — black, sullen, devilish. Why should
this be so?

LucRETUS — Oh! think you that a man, whose life has been
devoted entirely to self, who is selfish in all things, can have a
soul radiant with divine qualities? In some respects the spirit
is a mirror that reflects inward emotions, and they, if pure and

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 103

exalted, grandly illuminate it with a light divine. That miser
had nothing within his new-born spirit but black, hideous
selfishness, and consequently he was a most wretched-looking
creature. The world should learn this important fact, that
licentiousness, selfishness and wrong-doing, may be indulged
in to that extent that the spirit becomes darkened and dwarfed
thereby, and w^hen its transit to Spirit-life shall haVe been
effected, its true character is revealed.

A seed, if planted in a darkened room, where the genial
sunshine is never allowed to enter, though watered and tended
with scrupulous care, only presents a skeleton, as it were, of
what it would have been had it been allowed free access to the
illuminated atmosphere. Deeds of benevolence, acts of tender
love and charity, and true devotion to those around you, act
upon the indwelling spirit, expanding it into grand propor-
tions, the same as sunlight and moisture will a tiny plant.

That miser's soul never vibrated in sympathy for those
whom his well-filled coffers could have aided. No one ever
leaned on him for advice or aid. His soul is dark and miserably
wretched, for it knows nothing of charity, brotherly love, or
tender human feelings. I see him now near the earth where
his buried treasures lie. He gazes at the shining dollars with
unfeigned pleasure, counts them agam and again, while his
selfish spirit has but little about it that resembles a human
being. Good deeds illuminate the soul, but selfishness darkens
it. He is a poverty-stricken spirit, living on the insane hope
of realizing happiness from his secreted treasures.

As he stands before me, his sunken eyes, wan expression,
and trembling bearing, reflect his earth-like experience. In
that spirit you cannot easily detect the presence of the least
tender sympathetic love — it never had an existence to any great
extent in his darkened soul. Charity — to him it is a meaning-
less word! He lived on earth for self, and now he is alone!
He hated humanity, and now in a desolate waste, like his own
nature, he lives. Oh! no flowers smiling through their tinted
hues greet his vision. The fields are the emblems of selfish-
ness— they give forth nothing! As that miser produced nothing
on earth, he has gravitated to a sphere just like himself, that
produces nothing, and which is just as selfish and desolate in
nature as he is. I see him standing on the bleak, dark shore,

I04 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

of what seems to be surging, turbid billows. No bird? flit
through the air; no fish enliven the waters.

Inquirer — What a horrible picture!

LucRETUS — He is reaping what he sowed. Language fails
me in describing the desolation around him. This sphere is
the personification of selfishness — like the miser, it gives forth
nothing!' He sees himself reflected there in everything! His
life in spirit is just what he made it. While on earth he adapted
himself for a particular place in the spirit-realms, and to that
locality he naturally gravitated. The pathway of death led him
thither. Despair lingers on his features, now burning with an
intensity that indicates the absence of all hope. He gazes out
on the dashing, wild waters of the infernal ocean, as if to catch
a glimpse of an incoming ship.

Inquirer — Why give those who have made missteps in
life, or who have been so intensely selfish and miserly, such a
home as that? This looks like returning evil for evil. I can't
see any genuine philanthropy manifested in such an arrange-
ment. If the pathway from the earth to the Spirit-world leads
to such a clime as that, it had better be abolished altogether —
annihilation is preferable.

Lucretus — Oh! I readily comprehend your meaning. It
is a law of the universe — that which a man sows he shall reap!
The pathway to the spirit-realms leads a person to the locality
where he can reap what he has sowed, or feel the presence of
his own acts. That miser's life was a selfish one; all his deeds
were selfish, and the pathway to the Spirit-world conducted
him, as it were, to a selfish locality. If any beauties there,
divinity wisely conceals them for a special purpose. He now
realizes his condition. As he, while on earth, would deprive
others of substantial enjoyment, and by his usurious business
transactions grind them to the earth, as he stands in a dark,
loathsome desert, he feels the pernicious effects of his own vile
deeds.

Inquirer — Your position seems plausible, but I can hardly
realize that there is such a locality.

Lucretus — There is, and in no other way could an intensely
selfish, miserly person like him sense his true status, without
being conducted to it. Now I see him leave his desolate posi-
tion; his haggard expression of despair is enough to melt a
heart of stone. For many years he has been roaming around

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT^ WORLD. 105

this dark, dreary waste, and now he is just beginning to know
his true condition. He has reaped what he sowed. Every act
of his hard-hearted life towards others has reacted, and he
realizes fully the enormity of his crimes.

Action and reaction are equal. Oh! I wish I could im-
press that sublime fact upon the children of earth. If you
render the life of any one desolate; if you make him wretched
and miserable, the action and reaction will be equal, and you
will receive in the desolation experienced in your own person
just what you meted out to him. The miser's whole life was
devoted to rendering the existence of others cheerless; on earth
was the action, and here in that bleak sphere is the reaction.

Inquirer — Your position is correct in a physical point of
view, but I never supposed it was true morally and spiritually.

LucRETUS — Child of earth, pause a moment. How does a
person calculate the extent or effect of his own actions without
reaction? How could that miserable, unhappy being realize
the extent of the great wrongs he had perpetrated, unless he
feel the effects of them himself. The pathway to Spirit-life
places him in a position to keenly realize the effects of all his
acts. Action and reaction being equal, he can now measure
the full extent of his evil deeds; he knows now how he made
others suffer. No Savior, no spirit-friends, no agent in the
Spirit-world, can interpose a staying hand and hold back the
reaction that has come to him. Impress on the children of
earth this fact, that whatsoever they sow they shall reap, and
you will do more to moralize and refine them than in any other
way.

I now see that miser standing on a rugged cliff, and what
seems to be a bleak, cold wind, dashes against him with pow-
erful violence! Oh! how he shivers! He constantly changes
his position, as if to escape the force of the fearful blast! Oh!
how I pity him!

Inquirer — What is this for?

LucRETUS — Could you not guess? Did I not tell you that
whatsoever a man sows, that he shall reap? Did be not, one
night in midwinter, ruthlessly drive a poor woman and her lit-
tle child out into the cold, not heeding her tender appeals to
be allowed to remain until morning? She and her darling
babe perished in the terrific storm, while she sent forth to
God a tender prayer, appealing for her tyrant's forgiveness

io6 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

Now the reaction has come, and he sees before him the pros-
trate forms of those his vile selfishness drove forth into the
cold storm. I see him suffer; he feels the effect of his wrong-
doing— it comes with fearful violence against him, standing
alone and desolate on the barren place. It chills my soul to
gaze upon him and his suffering. By-and-by he will be allowed
to leave that place, but he may be compelled to return again
and again to witness the same scene. This is the wretched
life he lives.

Inquirer — If the pathway to Spirit-life leads to such des-
olate regions, seemingly it had better be abolished.

LucRETUS — It leads one to the sphere he is adapted to
occupy. The outer covering of the soul of the indwelling con-
scious self is composed exactly of such material as the sphere
to which it gravitates. While on earth your physical organ-
ization is evolved from the various elements, and connected
therewith is the indwelling spirit. Acts of licentiousness, in-
tense selfishness, and a life in the purlieus of vice, modify
the character and texture of the latter, and prepare it for a
sphere corresponding with the life led here. To illustrate:
A beautiful and accomplished lady has an angel child nestling
in the foetus. It has arrived at that critical period of the ges-
tative process when impressions made on her mind can mod-
ify its organism in every respect. She attends an exhibition
where the most brutal butchery of an innocent family is delin-
eated on canvas, making a most horrible spectacle. The per-
petrator of the deed is a burly, hideous negro. She sees one
illustration where he is represented as cutting the throat of a
little child. Then her soul becomes suddenly illuminated with
all the fires of hate towards the monster who was there repre-
sented as perpetrating the awfui rrime, and the impression
was conveyed to the little angel nestling in the fcetus, and its
complexion was changed to a frightful blackness, and its fea-
tures, when brought into the w^orld by a premature birth, re-
sembled those of a negro. It never breathed. Now, as im-
pressions made on the mind of the mother can modify the
character of the embryonic child, deforming it, so, too, can the
indwelling spirit be so changed as to accurately correspond
with the life one leads. Do you understand me?

Inquirer — Oh! I begin to comprehend you.

LucRETUS — While on earth, even, you manufacture cer-

»

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. ■ 107

tain textures for the soul — its dress — which correspond In
every particular with the characteristics of some one of the
spirit spheres. It is difficult to explain how the acts of life
affect the texture of the indwelling spirit, but it is on the same
principle as that which modifies the physical organization of
the unborn infant; and as impressions made on the mother's
mind can change the characteristics of her angel child, so can
selfish, miserly acts, intensified by hate and remorseless feel-
ings, eradicate from the indwelling spirit nearly every bright,
beautiful spot upon it. Every act in life has a well-defined
effect on the spirit, and it is well that the mortals of earth
should understand it at once.

All of the earth-deeds of that miser were accompanied
with selfishness, and his mind seemed to nurse a venomous
hate, and consequently his spirit became dark, just as the em-
bryonic child became darkened through the hate, excitement
and disgust of the mother. The natural tendency of his self-
ishness was to paralyze and contract the spirit, until it be-
came a mere pigmy in dimension, rendering his appearance
more hideous than it otherwise would have been. Now he has
but little resemblance to a human being.

Inquirer- — I now fully realize why that miser has such a
deformed and darkened spiritual body.

LucRETUS — I have only desired to illustrate my position
so that the mortals of earth can understand me, and thereby
realize the effects of wrong-doing, and therefore I say em-
phatically, that every truly honest work or act of charity that
cheers a saddened heart, has an effect on the indwelling spirit,
modifying its texture, just the same as the impressions made
on the mind of the mother affect her embryonic child. This
is a sublime fact.

108 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

Oddities WitK ReFereivce to tKe Dead.

INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT THE MORTAL REMAINS.

*The oldest known inscriptions are epitaphs.

The first tax was laid on funerals in England in 1793.

The wake in Ireland is a survival of the ancient funeral feast-

The early Christian martyrs were generally buried in or
near the churches.

Mummy cases have often, on the external lid, a representa-
tion of the occupant.

The Greeks buried or burned their dead, one word having
both significations.

** Death is an eternal sleep," is the favorite epitaph above
the doors of Roman tombs.

The best evidence goes to show that the pyramids of Egypt
were royal sepulchres.

The practice of burials in churches was commonly dis-
continued in France about 1777.

Many tribes of the aborigines of this country elevated the
bodies of the dead on poles.

The Magi did not bury their dead, but left them to be
devoured by birds of prey or dogs.

Nero delivered a funeral oration at the funeral of Poppeae,
whom he had killed with a kick.

The cutting of the body in mourning for the dead has been
practiced by the people of many nations.

Egyptian mourning lasted from forty to seventy days,
during which time the body was embalmed.

The Paris catacombs are estimated to contain the remains
of at least 3,000,000 human beings.

*St. Louis Globe-Democrat, St. Louis, Mo.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 109

In the Roman catacombs the passages are from five to
eight feet wide, and the graves are in tiers on either hand.

Every ordinary occupation in the life of ancient Egypt is
found depicted on the tombs of her people.

A Greek or Roman funeral pyre was always lighted by the
next of kin, who, with face averted, applied the torch.

On most of the Greek monuments a horse head is found
in one corner, to represent the journey taken by the deceased.

Among the Turks the bodies of the dead are held in ex-
treme reverence, though the cemeteries are used as picnic
grounds.

It is said that no Roman epitaph before the time of Christ
has been found that indicated positively a belief in immortality.

The mummification of human bodies was practiced by the
Egyptians from prehistoric times until after the sixth century
of our era.

Funeral orations are of the highest antiquity. Before
written history began they were pronounced over the bodies of
kings and heroes.

In both Greece and Rome certain atrocious crimes were
punished not only with death, but also with the deprivation of
funeral rites.

The Egyptian embalmers preserved not only the human
body, but also the bodies of cats, monkeys, sacred bulls and
some other animals.

The most ancient tombs in the world, so far as known,
are those of the Theban Kings of Egypt. They are believed
to be more than 4,000 years old.

The Christians of Rome, from the first persecution under
Nero to the tenth and last, under Dioclesian, found the cata-
combs a comparatively safe refuge.

The Egyptians believed that the soul lived only as long as
the body endured, hence the philosophy of embalming the
body to make it last as long as possible.

Funeral games were popular among most ancient nations.
They included all sorts of sports and athletic exercises, to-
gether with combats by gladiators.

According to Thucydides, Pericles delivered a very elo-
quent oration at the obsequies of those who fell at the com-
mencement of the Peloponnesian war.

The ancient Hebrews generally buried their dead, though

I lo THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

occasional incinerations took place, it is supposed, in con-
formity with the customs of surrounding nations.

The mourning ceremonies of the Hebrews commonly
lasted seven days, though in the case of very distinguished
persons it was sometimes continued for a month.

When the bod}^ of a Mohammedan is prepared for burial,
a scalp-lock is left on the top of his cranium, whereby the an-
gel of the resurrection can lift him out of the grave.

The word mausoleum comes from the name of King Mau-
solus, king of Caria, to whose memory his wife, Artemisia,
erected a tomb that was one of the wonders of the world.

The Egyptian catacombs are the most extensive in the
world. The whole mountain near Thebes is undermined with
excavations, in which are found the remains of the dead.

Horace, in speaking of the quarries under the Esquiline
Hill, says: "They were the common sepulchre of the miser-
able plebeians," showing that even then they were used as
burial places.

Mummies are sometimes enveloped in i,ooo yards of
bandages. Often the face is covered with thick gold leaf, and
eyes of colored enamel are often inserted, to give a lifelike
appearance.

The catacombs of Naples are in a hill behind the town,
and form an extensive series of excavations. They are in
three tiers or stories, which communicate with each other by
flights of steps.

In both Greece and Italy it was anciently considered a re-
ligious duty to bury a body cast on shore by the sea. If
proper tools were not at hand, the corpse was hidden from
view by sand.

Hebrew cemeteries were always situated without the walls
of the towns, the presence of the dead being supposed to
cause pollution. This peculiarity is noticeable also among the
ancient Greeks.

The Egyptians bestowed great labor and much expense
on their tombs and little on their houses. They regarded the
latter as mere temporary abodes, but the former they looked
on as eternal habitations.

The catacombs of S3^racuse, in Sicily, form a great sub-
terranean town, with numberless tombs cut out of solid rock.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. iii

Dead of all ages, from those of the Greek invasion to those
of last year, are there interred.

The Roman catacombs were originally quarries. It is be-
lieved that some of them long antedate the foundation of the
city. In course of time they became so extensive that the
whole capital was undermined.

Many notions have followed the practice of placing a coin
in the mouth of the deceased to pay his way across the river
that encircles hades. Generally a coin of small value was
deemed sufficient for this purpose.

A Thibetan tribe keeps a regular watch over the ceme-
teries, and the duty of the guard is to pray aloud whenever he
sees a meteor. The belief is that the shooting stars are evil
spirits in search of the souls of the dead.

There are over sixty catacombs known to exist in Rome
or its immediate vicinity. The entire length of the passages
that have been measured is 580 miles, and it is estimated that
from 6,000,000 to 15,000,000 dead are there interred.

Many of the epitaphs in the catacombs of Rome are sim-
ple and touching. "Valeria sleeps in peace. " "Zoticus is
laid here to sleep." *' Domitiannus, a simple soul, lay down
here to rest. " " Octavia here awaits the resurrection." '^Jul-
ian lies here asleep, but ready to rise at the sound of the
trumpet."

Among the ancient Germans the body of a chief was
burned, his most valuable arms and his war horse being added
to the funeral pile, in the belief that in the other w^orld he
would follow the same employments as in this.

With every mummy was deposited a papyrus containing
an itinerary of the other world, prayers suitable for the use of
the deceased in his new mode of existence, and magical for-
mulae designed to prevent the corruption of the body.

Before the middle of the present century several of the
churchyards in the poorer districts of London had been raised
from two to four feet by the number of interments, and had
become a source of constant danger to the health of the neigh-
borhood.

A dead Roman was kept seven days; daily the body was
washed and oiled, and at ce'-tain seasons the friends and rela-
tives collected in the death chamber and shouted together in

112 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

order to arouse the man if he were only sleeping or in a
trance.

The early Romans always buried their dead. Sulla was
the first of the aristocracy whose body was burned. Under
the empire burning became customary, and continued until
the establishment of Christianit}^ as a state religion in the
fourth century.

The painting of the catacombs of Thebes is so well done
that after a lapse of 4,000 years the colors are as bright as
when freshly laid on. This fact is in a large degree due to
the dryness of the atmosphere. In some parts of Upper
Egypt rain has never been known to fall.

The first antiquarian to take an interest in the Roman
catacombs was Father Bosio, who spent more than thirty
years in exploring their recesses, making excavations, clearing
galleries and preparing sketches of the objects he found. He
died in 1629, while finishing his work on the subject, and the
volume appeared two years later.

The bodies of Greeks, when not burned, were placed in
earthenware coffins and buried in tombs along the highways.
An occasional exception was made in favor of distinguished
men, who were sometimes buried in the forums of the towns.
It was in the forum that Dr. Schliemann discovered the bodies
of Agamemnon and his companions.

Shaving the beard and hair as a sign of mourning was
common among almost all ancient nations, and is even now
practiced in several parts of the world. Shaving the head
was one of the signs of grief shown by Job when informed of
the death of his sons and daughters. ''Then Job arose, and
rent his mantle, and shaved his head and fell down upon the
ground."

At a Roman funeral a person resembling the deceased ap-
peared in the procession and mimicked his speech and actions.
At the funeral of Vespasian, who was known to be exceedingly
penurious, this person asked of the spectators how mi^ch was
spent on the rites. Being told, he cried out: ''Give me the
money and you may throw my body into the river."

Funeral feasts were formerly universal in England. When
the fourth Earl of Berkeley died unexpectedly, June 8, 1368,
there was nothing ready for the feast, and the interment was
postponed until a hundred geese could be fattened. The pro-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 113

cess required over three weeks, and by the accounts of the
estate it appeared that the steward used two hundred bushels
of beans in getting the geese ready for slaughter.

After it was clearty ascertained that the Roman catacombs
contained the remains of Christian martyrs, these subterranean
cemeteries were taken in charge by the church, and so greatly
were they esteemed as places of burial that persons ol the
highest distinction were iijterred there. Pope Leo I., Gregory
the Great, Gregory II. and Gregory III., Leo IV., together
with the Emperors Honorius, Valentinian and Otho II., were
among the illustrious dead buried there.

The Towers of Silence, in Persia, are stone structures,
provided with gratings within, on which bodies are exposed to
be devoured by the crowds of vultures that always infest the
locality. After the flesh has been eaten from the bones, the
latter fall through the gratings to the ground beneath, and at
regular times are taken away and thrown into some convenient
dump. This practice of disposing of the dead is certainly as
ancient as the time of Herodotus, who mentions it in his history.

The funeral usages of the native Australians, before civil-
izing influences were brought to bear on them, were very pe-
culiar. When a native fell ill he was removed to a small hut
or inclosure at some distance from the village, was provided
with firewood and food and left alone. When found to be dead,
his remains were allowed to decompose until the flesh had
fallen from the bones, wiien the latter were collected, cleaned,
painted red, made up into bundles, and carried about with the
tribe for a certain length of time, when they were either buried
or deposited in a hollow tree or cave.

If a deceased Roman had not a large assortment of female
relatives to weep for him, female mourners were hired to attend
to that part of the business, and gradually they acquired a
monopoly. Their fees depended on the service. If they sim-
ply followed the bier in silence, they received about four cents;
if required to weep, their fee was six cents; shrieking and loud
outcries or lamentations, together with tearing the hair, beating
the breast and other signs of extreme grief, cost the afflicted
relatives fifteen cents for each industrious mourner. At the
funeral of Titus there were 1500 of these professionals em-
ployed, all at the highest rates.

The catacombs of Paris were not used as burial places

1 14 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

until 1784, when several cemeteries were cleared and the bones
removed to the quarries in the southern part of the city. These
quarries were consecrated to sacred purposes, and the bones
from the cemeteries were removed with much solemnity. In
1810 a regular system o' arranging the bones began, and now
they are built up into ' alls, each containing one kind of bones.
Many of the rooms a e lined with bones. One is the Tomb of
the Revolution, containing the relics of those who perished in
the period from 1789 tc 1793; another is the Tomb of Victims,
because arranged arourd its walls are the relics of those who
perished in the September massacres.

A Chinese funeral is a constant succession of efforts to
cheat the devil, who is supposed to be lying in wait to capture
the soul of the departed. So long as the body remains in the
house the soul is safe, for the devil cannot come in; the risk
begins when the funeral procession starts. When ready to
march, great quantities of fire-crackers and pyrotechnics that
emit much smoke are set off in front of the door, and under
cover of the smoke the pall-bearers start in a lively trot, run
to the nearest corner, turn it as quickly as they can and stop
short. This is done for the purpose of throwing the devil off
the track, since it is well known that he cannot easily turn a
corner, and, to aid in the deception, whenever a corner is
turned more fireworks are burned. By dint of turning quickly
and trotting as fast as they can, the bearers finally arrive at the
cemetery, but do not enter the gates, but go through a hole in
the surrounding inclosure, for they know that the baffled devil
will be waiting for them at the entrance. In the cemetery the
soul is comparatively safe, though to make the matter perfectly
secure the discharge of fire-crackers is kept up until all the
rites are ended.

AND LIFE JN THE ^IRIT- WORLD. 1 15

Hadsoiv Tatlle ai\3 jjl. J. Da^is.

DEATH AS PRESENTED BY THAT EMINENT AUTHOR, HUDSON TUTTLE

THE EXPERIENCE OF A SOLDIER ON THE BATTLE-FIELD HIS

AWAKENING IN SPIRIT-LIFE DEATH AS PRESENTED TO THE

CLAIRVOYANT VISION A VIVID DESCRIPTION OF THE FORMA-
TION OF THE SPIRIT.

The following communication was given through the me-
diumship of that eminent author, seer and lecturer, Hudson
Tuttle, of Berlin Heights, Ohio. It is an account of the suffer-
ings of a soldier on the field of battle, and of his experience on
first entering Spirit-life:

A darkness came over me. I felt the earth strike hard
against me. I had fallen. Where and how I was wounded I
could not tell. I was in no pain, but I could not move. After
a time the strange ringing left my ears, the mists cleared from
my eyes; I saw dimly, but enough to know my friends were
gone and the enemy w^ere all around me. Then keen pains
shot through my limbs. I knew I was injured, but not mortally
wounded. After the battle, when the field was searched for
the wounded, I should be cared for, kindly tended, and then
sent home on furlough. A sunny face would meet me at the
gate. The dear remembered home would shelter me, loving
hands would be busy about me, and darling little ones climb
my wounded knees and cling around *' poor papa's " neck. Ah !
what joy, what ecstacy! A thousand thoughts like these shot
through my mind like gleams of sunlight.

Then I heard the hoarse voices of fierce combatants; they
had made a stand directly over where I lay. Our soldiers fought
desperately as they retreated, and many a pursuing enemy fell

1 16 THE ENCYCL OFJiDJA OF DBA TH

on their track. One was aiming his piece directly over me,
when he was struck dead. He fell across me. I endeavored
to move so as to shake off the dreadful pressure from my chest,
but I was too weak; I could only suffer and think. Others fell
thick, around me. One lay heavily upon my aching feet, but
intolerable as was the pain of this added weight, I was only
pinned more closely to the earth; I could not move. The com-
batants had moved on, their voices had died off in the distance
and I lay helpless in the midst of thousands of such wrecks as
mj'self. Thoughts of the dear home far away, the beloved ones
who were watching and waiting for me amidst the quiet green
hills of Vermont, mingled with the horror of laying there in
the midst of that ghastly battle-field with the dead weight that
crushed me growing heavier with every breath. It was like
some horrid nightmare. A corpse resting its cold weight on m}^
breast, a corpse pressing on my bleeding limbs. Night came
on, and with it the rain. Darkness impenetrable in the physical
world, and, oh! what unutterable darkness in the mental. In
the great rifts of the black heavens there were awful flashes of
lightning and bursts of thunder, in the midst of which I heard
the groans of the wounded as they lay in the pitiless rain.

When the morning came I was almost unconscious of life.
I remember watching the light breaking in the gray east, my
head resting on that side, and I was too weak to turn it, or else
it had become stiff in the rain. As it became light I heard the
rolling of artillery, then the fierce booming thunder of the battle
renewed. I heard the crash of the rumbling wheels, the tramp
of the war-horses; I knew they were coming towards me, and
the horrible fear came over me lest I should be trampled under
foot, crushed, maimed, or ground into the dust! I endeavored
to shout and tell them I was not dead, but I could not even
whisper. On they came, maddened and reckless by the spirit
of the war. The iron-footed horses were on me, almost; but
no- — they passed me; but now the dreadful wheels approached!
I saw them coming; one was directly over my eyes. That was
the last I remember.

All was perfect silence. The sounds of war were all
hushed. I think I must have been in perfect, dreamless slum-
bipr, for I felt, heard, and saw nothing. When I awoke I was
well, peaceful, happy; John was standing near me, apparently
in perfect health. "You here?" I asked in astonishment; "I

A ND L IFE IN THE SPIRIT- WOT I D. 117

thought you were dead!" ''So I am," he replied; "at least I
have lost my mortal body, but you plainly see the body is not
all there is of a man, for my body is, as you say, dead, yet I
exist." "Surely," I answered, "I have dreamed, or else am
dreaming."

He smiled as he replied, " Not so; but you, too, are dead."
Our conversation lasted some hours before I was fully con-
vinced I was really dead, though free from pain and the horrors
of the battle-field over.

Since then I have watched the advent of many spirits on
the battle-field. The emotions they manifest are as various as
the dispositions they bore in life. Some arise from the body
perfectly bewildered, others filled with unutterable hate, and
only inspired with the desire of vengeance on the foe. Many
meet dear friends who await their coming and hover round
their departed spirits. Guardian spirits stand ready by the side
of all to conduct them to the land where wars shall cease forever.

CLAIRVOYANT VIEW OF DEATH BY THAT EMINENT SEER, A. J. DAVIS.

The following vivid description (Great Harmonia, Vol. I.)
of death, is from the pen of Andrew Jackson Davis, a man
whose clear perceptions and intuitions have raised him to the
front rank as a seer, philosopher and profound thinker:

When the hour of her death arrived, I was fortunately in
a proper state of mind and body to induce the superior [clair-
voyant] condition; but, previous to throwing my spirit into
that condition, I sought the most convenient and favorable
position, that I might be allowed to make the observations
entirely unnoticed and undisturbed. Thus situated and con-
ditioned, I proceeded to observe and investigate the mysterious
processes of dying, and to learn what it is for an individual
human spirit to undergo the changes consequent upon physical
death or external dissolution. They were these:

I saw that the physical organization could no longer sub-
serve the diversified purposes or requirements of the spritual
principle. But the various internal organs of the body ap-
peared to resist the withdrawal of the animating soul. The body
and the soul, like two friends, strongly resisted the various
circumstances which rendered their eternal separation impera-
tive and absolute. These internal conflicts gave rise to man-
ifestations of what seemed to be, to the material senses, the

Ii8 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

most thrilling and painful sensations; but. I was unspeakably
thankful and delighted when I perceived and realized the fact
that those physical manifestations were indications, not of pain
or unhappiness, but simply that the spirit was eternally dis-
solving its copartnership with the material organism.

Now the head of the body became suddenly enveloped in
a fine, soft, mellow, luminous atmosphere; and, as instantly, I
saw the cerebrum and the cerebellum expand their most in-
terior portions; I saw them discontinue their appropriate gal-
vanic functions; and then I saw that they became highly charged
with the vital electricity and vital magnetism which permeate
subordinate systems and structures. That is to say, the brain,
as a whole, suddenly declared itself to be tenfold more positive,
over the lesser proportions of the body, than it ever was during
the period of health. This phenomenon invariably precedes
physical dissolution.

Now the process of dying, or the spirit's departure from
the body, was fully commenced. The brain began to attract
the elements of electricity, of magnetism, of motion, of life,
and of sensation, into its various and numerous departments.
The head became intensely brilliant; and I particularly re-
marked that just in the same proportion as the extremities of
the organism grew dark and cold, the brain appeared light and
glowing.

Now I saw, in the mellow, spiritual atmosphere which
emanated from and encircled her head, the indistinct outlines
of the formation of another head. This new head unfolded
more and more distinctly, and so indescribably compact and
intensely brilliant did it become, that I could neither see
through it, nor gaze upon it as steadily as I desired. While
this spiritual head was being eliminated and organized from
out of and above the material head, I saw that the surrounding
aromal atmosphere which had emanated from the material
head was in great commotion; but, as the new head became
more distinct and perfect, this brilliant atmosphere gradually
disappeared. This taught me that those aromal elements,
which were, in the beginning of the metamorphosis, attracted
from the system into the brain, and thence eliminated in the
form of an atmosphere, were indissolubly united in accordance
with the divine principle of affinity in the universe, which per-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 119

vades and destinates every particle of matter, and developed
the spiritual head which I beheld

In the identical manner in which the spiritual head was
eliminated and unchangeably organized, I saw, unfolding in
their natural progressive order, the harmonious development
of the neck, the shoulders, the breast and the entire spiritual
organization. It appeared from this, even to an unequivocal
demonstration, that the innumerable particles of what might
be termed unparticled matter which constitutes the man's
spiritual principle, are constitutionally endowed with certain
elective affinities, analogous to an immortal friendship. The
innate tendencies, which the elements and essences of her soul
manifested by uniting and organizing themselves, were the
efficient and imminent causes which unfolded and perfected
her spiritual organization. The defects and deformities of her
physical body were, in the spiritual body which I saw thus
developed, almost completely removed. In other words, it
seemed that those hereditary obstructions and influences were
now removed, which originally arrested the full and proper
development of her physical constitution; and, therefore, that
her spiritual constitution, being elevated above those obstruc-
tions, was enabled to unfold and perfect itself, in accordance
with the universal tendencies of all created things.

While this spiritual formation was going on, which was
perfectly visible to my spiritual perceptions, the material body
manifested to the outer vision of observing individuals in the
room many symptoms of uneasiness and pain; but the indi-
cations were totally deceptive; they were wholly caused by
the departure of the vital or spiritual forces from the extrem-
ities and viscera into the brain, and thence into the ascending
organism.

The spirit arose at right angles over the head or brain of
the deserted body. But immediately previous to the final dis-
solution of the relationship which had for so many years sub-
sisted between the two, spiritual and material bodies, I saw —
playing energetically between the feet of the elevated spiritual
body and the head of the prostrate physical body — a bright
stream or current of vital electricity. * * And here
I perceived what I had never before obtained a knowledge of,
that a small portion of this vital electrical element returned to
the deserted body immediately subsequent to the separation of

1 20 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA Til

the umbilical thread; and that that portion of this element
which passed back into the earthly organism, instantly diffused
itself through the entire structure, and thus prevented imme-
diate decomposition. * *

As soon as the spirit, whose departing hour I thus
watched, was wholly disengaged from the tenacious physical
body, I directed my attention to the movements and emotions
of the former; and i saw her begin to breathe the most inte-
rior or spiritual portions of the surrounding terrestrial atmos-
phere. ^ * * At first it seemed with difficulty that
she could breathe the new medium; but in a few seconds she
inhaled and exhaled the spiritual elements of nature with the
greatest possible ease and delight. And now I saw that she
was in possession of exterior and physical proportions, which
were identical, in every possible particular — improved and
beautified — with those proportions which characterized her
earthly organization. That is to say, she possessed a heart,
a stomach, a liver, lungs, etc., just as her natural body did
previous to (not her, but) its death. This is a wonderful and
consoling truth! But I saw that the improvements which were
wrought upon and in her spiritual organization were not so
particular and thorough as to destroy or transcend her person-
ality; nor did they materially alter her natural appearance or
earthly characteristics. So much like her former self was she
that, had her friends beheld her as I did, they certainly would
have exclaimed — as Ave often do upon the sudden return of a
long-absent friend, who leaves us in illness and returns in
health — " Why, how well you look! How improved you are!"
Such was the nature — most beautifying in their extent — of
the improvements that were wrought upon her.

I saw her continue to conform and accustom herself to
the new elements and elevating sensations which belong to the
inner-life. I did not particularly notice the workings and
emotions of her newly-awakening and fast-unfolding spirit, ex-
cept that I was careful to remark her philosophical tranquility
throughout the entire process, and her non-participation with
the different members of her family in their unrestrained be-
wailing of her departure from the earth, to unfold in Love and
Wisdom throughout eternal spheres. She understood at a
glance that they could only gaze upon the cold and lifeless
form which she had but just deserted; and she readily compre-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. i2i

hended the fact, that it was owing to a want of true knowl-
edge upon their parts, that they thus vehemently regretted her
merely physical death.

The period required to accomplish the entire change which
I saw, was not far from two hours and a half; but this fur-
nished no rule as to the time required for every spirit to ele-
vate and reorganize itself above the head of the outer form.
Without changing my position or spiritual perceptions I con-
^inued to observe the movements of her new-born spirit. As
soon as she became accustomed to the new elements which
surrounded her, she descended from her elevated position,
which was immediately over the body, by an effort of the will-
power, and directly passed out of the door of the bedroom in
which she had lain, in the material form, prostrated with dis-
ease for several weeks. It being in a summer month the doors
were all open, and her egress from the house was attended
with no obstruction. I saw her pass through the adjoining
room, out of the door, and step from the house into the atmos-
phere! I was overwhelmed with delight and astonishment
when, for the first time, I realized the universal truth that the
spiritual organization can tread the atmosphere, which, while
in the coarser earthly form we breathe — so much more re-
fined is man's spiritual constitution. She walked in the at-
mosphere as easily, and in the same manner, as we tread the
earth and ascend an eminence. Immediately upon her emerge-
ment from the house she was joined by two friendly spirits
from the spiritual country, and after tenderly recognizing and
communing with each other, the three, in the most graceful
manner, began ascending obliquely through the ethereal en-
velopment of our globe. They walked so naturally and fra-
ternally together that I could scarcely realize the fact that
they trod the air — they seemed to be walking upon the side of
a glorious but familiar mountain. I continued to gaze upon
them until the distance shut them from my view, whereupon
I returned to my external and ordinary condition.

1 2 2 THE ENC YCL OF^DIA OF DEA TH

ifl ^isioiv 6y Envnva Hardiiv^e Brillerv.

A DARK SPHERE ON THE SPIRIT SIDE OF LIFE.

A PEER OF THE BRITISH REALM HIS DESOLATE CONDITION IN THE

SPIRIT-WORLD THE SPIRIT-HOME OF SOME OF EARTH'S RICH

ARISTOCRATS SOME POTENT TRUTHS ILLUSTRATED.

It was sunset on Lake Ontario. I lay on a couch, to which
indisposition had confined me for several hours, watching
dreamily the fitful, changing hues of the sky, and the gorgeous
reflection of its gold and purple glories on the tossing waters
of its shining lake. Painters' canvas never yet displayed the
wealth of coloring that the artists' sun then cast, like a mantle,
over the evening scene. Each moment changing its glorious
pageantry, it seemed as if the dying day called up from the
world of infinite ideas this phantasmagoria of beauty, to teach
me the loveliness of death when nature rules supreme, and the
strong, the good and beautiful are passing away. Passing
away! Yes, though the scene I looked upon was motion, life,
in its fairest garb of loveliness, 'twas life going out; the lamp
of day soon to be quenched in the solemn mystery of darkness,
and that day's death.

Suddenly my wandering thoughts were fixed on one whom
for years I had not seen, or scarcely thought upon. He was a
man whom no description can fully represent to the inhabitants
of the western continent, for he was of a class unknown in
American experiences — a peer of the British realm; the elder
brother of a wealthy, noble, and far-descended house, and a
marked actor in that peculiar drama which is only played
amongst the members of the British aristocracy.

You could not follow me, my American friends, were I to
attempt for 3^ou a description of the stately earl and his peculiar

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD' 123

sphere of action; happy for you you cannot; for the sum of all
is told when I translate his life in this: His birth, position, the
law of primogeniture, and other specialties, had manufactured
a rich nobleman and a capacious mind into b bad man, no-
torious for his enormous gallantries in public life, and his
equally enormous tyranny in private life. This man had lived
for self, and used time, talents, wealth, and station, for no
other purpose than the gratification of self and selfish passions.

I presume he had never committed any act that could
bring upon him the penalty of the law; but in Great Britain
our courts of honor, chastity, and equity exist only in public
opinion; and this pronounces verdict against the poor, never
the rich; otherwise this great earl would scarcely have escaped
a felon's fate.

In my youth I had known this man. I had often read
Shakespeare to him, sang and played for him; and, despite
some awe with which his singularly stately presence inspired
me, I returned his regard for me with perhaps more of interest
than the young and innocent generally yielded to him. My
full understanding of his character was the revelation of after
years. Since I have been in America, the journals of home
have brought the intelligence of the great man's transit into
**the land of rest."

I had become a believer in Spiritualism about a year; and
then, as often since, had wondered why that spirit never sought
communion with the girl who remembered him kindly, and
with whom the dark shadows of wrong had never been asso-
ciated. Still he came not. Sometimes I wondered whether
**the great gulf" of scripture was not a truth, and the rich,
bad man could not cross it.

This night my mind was full of him; and the spirit earl
was the last normal thought I can recall, ere I entered that
strange, dream-like state, baffling all description, which we so
vaguely call the ''trance."

I passed through what seemed many spheres of mist and
gloom. They occupied much space, but gave me no other idea
but that of traversing vast distances. At length I stood in a
city of buildings, connected with each other, which seemed to
be the destination to which my spirit's flight had been tending.

The experiences of the spirit can never be fully translated
into human speech; hence I cannot attempt to describe, in the

124 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

language of matter, the inconceivable spaces through which i
seemed to travel, nor the splendor with \\hich I was sur-
rounded. Eye hath not seen nor heart conceived of the beauty
outwrought by the spirit, or of distances where infinity offers
no horizon; but the character of the buildings I traversed I
can at least describe.

They consisted of chambers, galleries, staircases, halls and
corridors, furnished with all the gorgeous magnificence of
oriental luxury.

Three points in my journey, however, were most remark-
able. The first was the amazing and palpable darkness that
filled these palaces, revealing clearly every color and shape,
yet thick with an atmosphere of such dense blackness that I
could taste it, suffocate in it, almost cut it; 'twas awful, over-
whelming, stifling. 'Twas darkness visible, night incarnate.

The next point of interest was the total absence of inhabi-
tants; not a living thing was visible; and though in process of
my wanderings, I seemed to traverse worlds, and to have occu-
pied ages since my entrance, so death-like was the stillness, so
terrible the awful quiet that I felt as if an eternity of pain would
be very cheaply purchased by the sight of even an insect or a
reptile; but the crowning fact of my strange experience was the
effect of the scene on my own spirits. At first I was affected
by a profound melancholy, but as I proceeded this deepened
into a despair so hopeless that memory, and even the sense of
pain, at last fled. At certain stages of my pilgrimage, the
gloom and solitude produced in my mind the most agonizing
longing for light, air, and companionship; but even the energy
to frame a wish at length abandoned me, and though sensible
of a dim possibility, by powerful exercise of will, of summoning
aid to my side, I lost at last the faculty even of suffering, and
wandered on, seemingly for years, centuries, ages, a living
annihilation, an incarnation of hopeless woe.

God, angels, life, worlds, all were nothing to me; I was in
eternity and endless death!

The most distinct memory I can now retain was a vague
wonder as to whether I was thus suffering for expiation of my
own sins, or learning by horrible experience the condition ot
others.

I think that the amount of energy expended even in this
effort at reflection opened up a new phase in my dreadful pil-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 125

grlmage, for it was answered by the tones of a sweet, bell-like
voice, whose low but clear intonations seemed wafted from the
immeasurable distance of some far-off world. It said: ''You
are now in the Spirit-homes of earth's rich dead, Emma; here
dwell the Dives of earth, who, men say, die so very rich; here
they live in the splendors they loved, the wealth they adored,
and surrounded by the idols they made and worshiped.

*'Your sufferings, Emma, are theirs in the realization of
the life for which they sold themselves; and now you may
judge the value of the coin for which the cold-hearted and
selfish rich man sells his soul.

*' How like you the exchange? "

I shuddered and wept bitterly for the insane rich of earth.
*' Where are they?" I murmured.

''Everywhere," replied the voice. " Myriads move around
you, and wander and feel as you do, but none see the others,
or you; it is the condition of entrance to the spheres of self-
love, that the eye shall behold naught but self, realize no other
existence. They toiled in earth-life to attain this state; here
they reap the harvest they have sown."

"But this darkness," I cried. "Oh, for the light, for but
one ray of the blessed sunlight! Why cannot the sun of heaven
penetrate these awful abodes?"

"And so it does, child. Here, as everywhere else, is
heaven, and light and sun; but where are the eyes that can be-
hold it? If heaven be not within us, in vain we seek it else-
where. If our eyes are ever turned in upon self, they are blind
to all besides. From the soul's center goes forth the true light
or darkness of the land of souls."

"Oh, that I could see but one of the inhabitants of this
doleful region," I thought, and with the wish came its instant
gratification; for, raising my eyes, I beheld the form of a liv-
ing being approaching me. At first the delight of seeing a
thing of life again impelled me to rush toward it, but the sin-
gularity of the figure, and its evident incapacity to perceive
me, arrested my steps and I stood watching, with curious in-
terest, my new companion. The figure was that of a very,
very old man; indeed, to judge by his wrinkled face and with-
ered aspect, he might have been the sole surviving wreck of
centuries.

His height could not have exceeded that of a child of four

126 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

years, and the garments that hung in threadbare folds around
his shrunken form were a world too wide for the poor anatomy
they covered, and yet I knew this pitiful little figure bore the
evidence of decrease rather than natural deformity, and that
his present childish dimensions had come from the shrinking
of a once mighty form of manhood.

Yes, I knew this, not only from the revealment of his
past, which each spirit bears about, engraved on the unmasked
soul, but because I could trace in those withered features and
that diminished shape, the wreck of the once proud, stately
earl, whom in former days I had looked upon as the beau ideal
of aristocratic manhood.

Oh, how terrible it was to behold him thus! His face
wore an expression of unutterable grief, but withal a look of
mild resignation and hopeless regret, that pierced my very
soul. Slowly and feebly he passed on without regarding me,
but as he neared me, and ere he finally disappeared, I heard
him sigh. Oh, heaven! how he sighed, an'^ what a world of
bitter memories, useless regrets, and wasting sorrow came
sobbing on the air, laden with the sigh of that suffering soul!

Ah, me! It was indeed the breath of a wailing spirit; the
gnashing of teeth, and ** outer darkness. "

With his departure, even the interminable solitudes of
his home seemed more tolerable; but again I heard the sweet
cadence of my invisible angel's voice chiming in my ear:

**Yes, Emma, it is he, even Lord . You wonder

at the strange transfiguration which death has wrought on the
splendid peer; but ask yourself the size of his soul when its
earthly mask was rent oft, and his spirit appeared with its one
grain of ideality, and that, all self. Emma, yon pigmy has
grown by suffering, since his entrance here, from an almost
invisible monad to the size you just beheld. Yes, Emma, self
was all that existed in the great man's soul, and self is but one
spark in the divine unity of illimitable fires that must all
burn in perfection and harmony, ere the central sun of soul is
fully unfolded.

'^ Until then true life does not even begin. Judge, then,
of the size of yon embryonic spirit, when first it shook off the
clods of earth to stand revealed, not for name, lineage, wealth,
nor station, but just for its worth, no more."

*'Alas!" I cried, *' teach us, angelic guide, though suffer-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 127

ing be the road, and blood and tears the baptism, teach us
how to Hve so that at last we may cast off our earthly burdens,
and enter upon our spiritual inheritance, full-grown spirits,
men and women souls."

**Hard is the path of riches, strong the pleadings of self,
ruinous the crushing weight of uncurbed passion," replied my
guide. "These with the sophistic lull of custom, and over-
weening devotion to the things of earth, that minister only to
earthly loves, have dwarfed many such souls as his, and
shrunk up the blossoms of genius and intellect, until these
doleful spheres are thick with worlds of people of whom yon
man is a type."

"Their destiny," I murmured; "O, send me not away
comfortless!"

"Despair, remorse, regret; then penitence, submission,
such deep humility as shone upon that man's piteous face, are
theirs. Then, becoming oncfe again as little children, the
morning of a new life shall dawn for them, and glorious will
be the evening that shall close their day of labor, and see
them, as they should be, full-grown spirits, and heirs of the
everlasting kingdom, where earth with its baser nature never
enters."

The pale moon was full and high, and the vault of heaven
thick with flowers, when I again, with natural vision, looked
on the face of earth.

Perhaps, after so solemn a lesson as that of the past hour,
the action may appear grotesque and unworthy, but it was
nevertheless irresistible, and consisted in springing from my
couch, opening my portemonnaie and (though its contents
would never, I think, in its most plethoric condition, prove a
temptation to any one), pouring them upon the floor, tramp-
ling them beneath my feet, and crying aloud to the mighty
power in whose hands poor, tempted souls are passion-tossed,
or "stayed in perfect peace," to "lead me not into tempta-
tion," and deliver me from the evil of my own soul.

For many and many a day after this, I esteemed my pov-
erty a privilege; it was long before I could dare to speculate,
even with necessary foresight, upon any arrangements that re-
quired me to calculate upon the possession of money; dreadful,
awful, tyrannical, soul-corrupting money! Though I believe
I shall never, in this respect, be tempted beyond the need of

1 28 THE ENCYCL OPALDIA OF DBA Til

the bare day's provision, yet still do I remember my vision of
warning with an awe that forever comments on the fatal truth,
'* How hardly shall a rich man enter into the kingdom of
heaven! "

I do not love to think or speak of this vision; my soul is
pained to be assured of its truth; to know that about me are
the dreadful "homes of the selfish rich;" that in the invisible
world of which earth, sky, suns and system.s are full, are
eternally pacing the unresting feet of the solitary worshipers
of self, in their hideous loneliness, their frightful penance for
the gratification of their souls' idolatries!

*'0h, what is death? ' Tis a fleeting breath —

A simple but blessed change;
'Tis rending a chain, that the soul may gain

A higher and broader range.
Unbounded space is its dwelling-place

Where no human foot hath trod,
But everywhere doth it feel the care

And the changeless love of God.
Oh, then," though you weep when your lOved ones sleep.

When the rose on the cheek growls pale,
Yet their forms of light, just concealed from sight,

Are only behind the veil." — DoUn.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD: 129

DealK From a Vi6ralory Force.

NOT ALWAYS REAL, AND THE VICTIM MAY BE RESUSCITATED.

A PHYSICIAN OF HIGH STANDING TELLS HOW TO DEAL WITH SUCH

CASES— METHOD OF INDUCING RESPIRATION ARTIFICIALLY

EXPERIMENTS ON ANIMALS.

*Much interest has recently been excited by the report
from France of the resuscitation of a man apparently killed by
electricity, and by the announcement of the French scientist,
d'Arsonval, that a person so shocked should be treated as one
drowned. The suggestion is a good one, but may be somewhat
misleading unless understood; that is, unless the person under-
taking the resuscitation appreciates what is to be accomplished
and just how it is to be done.

As this authority says, an electric shock may produce death
in one of two ways, viz. :

First, by producing destructive tissue changes, when
death is absolute; or, second, by producing sudden arrest of
the respiratory and heart muscles through excitement of the
nerve centers, when death is only apparent; in other words,
animation is merely suspended. The subject may be aroused
from this syncope if efforts at resuscitation are not too long
delayed.

The alternating current, which is usually regarded as the
most deadly, strange to say, nearly always produces death in
this second manner.

To say that a person has received a shock from a wire
conveying a current of 4,000 or 5,000 volts does not necessarily

♦Dr. A. H. Goclet in the Electrical World, 1894.

I30

'I HE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

signify that the body has been subjected to the full force of the
current, even if the meter does register nearly one ampere
during the time of the accident. In view of the fact that the
human body offers a resistance of several thousand ohms, which

THE FIRST POSITION,
resistance is greatly increased by imperfect contact and by
charring and burning the tissues at the points of application,
it is not often that the internal structures and vital organs are
submitted to a very considerable volume of current, though it
apparently passes through the body. It must be borne in
mind that when the clothing is moist with perspiration or wet
with rain it offers a circuit of less resistance than the human
body, and in this event the body receives only a shunt current,
very much less in quantity than the main current. The bulk
of current, in this instance, passes over the surface and does
not enter the body. This may explain the survival of some
who have apparently withstood very powerful currents.

SELDOM KILLS OUTRIGHT.

It must be presumed, therefore, that electricity seldom
kills outright, though the condition of suspended animation
which it induces would result in death if not counteracted.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD.

131

All things considered, it is rational to attempt the resusci-
tation of those apparently killed by electricity, and if not too
long delayed, the effort promises fair chances of success, pro-
vided proper measures are instituted.

THE SECOND POSITION.

If the body has actually been submitted to a current of
sufficient volume to produce destructive tissue changes, all
efforts at resuscitation will, of course, be futile.

If, on the other hand, only respiration and the heart's ac-
tion have been temporarily arrested, there is a condition of
syncope simulating apparent death by drowning, or from
anaesthetics, and the physician knows that patients in this
condition are frequently revived. Laymen will appreciate the
nature of this condition if it is explained as one of exaggerated
faint, and would not feel appalled upon encountering it if pre-
viously instructed how to cope with it. In an ordinary fainting
spell the necessity to stimulate is universally appreciated. In
syncope resulting from an electric shock, stimulation is like-
wise indicated, but more vigorous measures are required. This
is the only difference.

As said above, the direction to treat one shocked by elec-
tricity as one drowned, may be misleading, as the conception
of the layman of the necessities in this case would be to roll

132

THE ENCYCL OF.EDIA OF DEA TH

the bod}' on a barrel. Let him understand that the condition
is one of exaggerated faint, that the necessity is for prompt
stimulation, and that the quickest and most powerful stimulant
which can be employed is artificial respiration. The man must

be made to breathe, if this
is possible, and efforts to
induce respiration must not
be suspended until breath-
ing is fully and normally
restored, or until it is abso-
lutely certain that life is
extinct. This can not be
assured in less than an
hour's persistent, energetic,
tireless effort.

The accompanying illus-
trations will serve to make
intelligible the following
directions for artificial res-
piration:

The body must be placed
upon the back. A roll made
of a coat or anything else
convenient (rolled, not fold-
ed), is placed under the
shoulders, and must be suf-
ficiently large to so prop the
spine up as to drop the head
backward. The operator should kneel behind the subject's
head, facing him, grasp the elbows and draw them well over
the head, so as to bring them almost together above it, and
hold them there for two or three seconds. Then he carries
them down to the sides and front of the chest, firmly compress-
ing it by throwing his weight upon them. After two or three
seconds the arms are again carried above the head, and the
same maneuver is repeated, at the rate of fifteen or sixteen
times per minute. At the same time the tongue must be drawn
out to free the throat. This manipulation stimulates respira-
tion in the following manner, viz. : When the arms are extended
over the head the chest-walls are expanded, just as in inspira-
tion, and if the throat is clear the air will rush into the lungs.

OXYGEN CYLINDER, APPLIANCES.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD.

133

When the arms are brought down to the sides of the chest,
compressing it, the air is expelled, just as in expiration.

This is the most convenient and reliable manner of induc-
ing artificial respiration. It is known as Sylvester's method.
The operator must, however, appreciate the fact that this
manipulation must be executed with methodical deliberation,
just as described, and never hurriedly nor half-heartedly. To

grasp the arms and move them
rapidly up and down like a pump
handle, is both absurd and ab-
solutely useless.

In addition to this, if an assist-
ant be at hand, the tongue, held
by a cloth or handkerchief, to
prevent slipping, should be seized
and drawn forcibly out during
the act of inspiration, or when
the arms are extended above the
head, and when the chest is com-
pressed it may be allowed to re-
cede. This rhythmical traction
upon the tongue is in itself an
excellent stimulant of respira-
tion. It acts not only by freeing the throat of the tongue,
w^hich may fall back and obstruct breathing, but also by reflex
irritation, through the fraenum or bridle under the tongue being
drawn forcibly against the low^er teeth.

AN IMPROVISED MOUTHPIECE.

OXYGEN TREATMENT.

If the accident occurs in a city or large town, oxygen,
which may be obtained at every drug store, may be used. This
i^ a powerful stimulant to the heart if it can be made to enter
the lungs.

This gas comes in cylinders furnished with a stop-cock
and tubes and bottle, which latter is to be half filled with water,
through which the gas passes when turned on. (See figures.)
If a cone or mouthpiece is not furnished with the apparatus,
one can be hastily improvised from a piece of stiff paper and
attached by a string to the ordinary mouthpiece. To use the
oxygen, place the cone over the patient's face and turn on the

1 34 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

stop-cock until the gas is seen to bubble freely through the
water in the bottle. Efforts at artificial respiration should be
kept up while the gas is being administered, to favor its en-
trance into the lungs.

The use of electricity to reawaken the heart and lungs to
action offers another auxiliary to the resuscitation process, but
implies the skilled employment of special electrical apparatus
purely within the possession of the physician, who naturally
does not require instruction.

When I was requested by the editors of the Electrical
World to contribute this article, I gladly accepted, because:

First — I am convinced that many who have died in con-
sequence of electrical shocks might have been saved if those
at hand had been properly instructed in the methods of reviv-
ing suspended animation, and

Second — I hope all electrical companies will be impressed
with the importance of having their linemen and other em-
ployes engaged in the vicinity of dangerous currents, so in-
structed and trained that without delay methods of resuscita-
tion can at once be instituted.

Thus the giant electricity will more surely become man's
servant, a faithful and obedient one, instead of, as now, occa-
sionally, through man's carelessness, his slayer.

Speaking of the wonders of this vibratory force, electric-
ity, a writer in the New York World says:

* 'Aside from the accidents to human beings, scientists are
able to judge that high currents of electricity are not always
deadly, by experimenting on animals. As recently told by the
Sunday Worlds Dr. J. Kratter, of Graz, Austria, has succeeded
in obtaining most interesting results from his researches on
the animal organism, operating with currents as high as 2,000
volts. He also believes that all deaths of the animals resulted
from the stoppage of the respiration. Sometimes the stop-
page produced death by suffocation, but in several cases the
animals recovered.

*'A short time ago a New York electrician subjected a
toad to a high current from a faradic battery. The faradic
current is an alternating current on a small scale. The skin
of the frog is very moist and electrical contact can be very
tasily accomplished. Again and again was the toad made to

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 135

stiffen out under the action of the current. Finally it was pro-
nounced to be dead, and was placed on a high shed, where
the water from a butt would keep it moist. It was left out all
night.

''During the night it revived enough to hop away and
disappear. A cat and other animals were experimented upon
in the same manner and nearly all recovered. The same elec-
trician gave it as his opinion that none of the electrocuted
men were actually killed by the current.

"The opinion of several prominent electricians who were
asked for their opinions on the subject is that it is very un-
certain whether the electric current always kills when it seems
to kill, as, for instance, in an electrocution. That death does
finally occur is, of course, certain, as either the dissecting
knife or gradual dissolution must accomplish it. But that
any one or all of the electrocuted men could have been re-
vived, so they say, is within the possibilities.

''Should a person come under the influence of a powerful
galvanic continuous current, then chemical action would take
place within the body and death would occur beyond a doubt.
This, however, is not the kind of current used in electrocuting
criminals. The alternating current does not produce chemi-
ical action. The editor of a prominent electrical paper said
regarding it: 'I think there is a possibility that the electro
cuted men might have been revived before the autopsy, pro-
vided the length of time they were subjected to the current
was nqt too long. I should think that no human being would
be able to stand a current of 1,800 or 2,000 volts, such as they
use in our prisons, more than, or as much as, three minutes.
If they were in for, say, thirty seconds, I^ should think there
was every reason of reviving them, but longer than that I
should not think so.'

"A physician gave it as his opinion that the criminals
were dead for all practical purposes of the law. ' If they had
been revived,' said he, 'they would have to be killed over
again. Some of the men had no autopsy performed on them,
I believe, and they were buried immediately. Now, as to
whether they ever revived I am not prepared to say, but if
they did— -well, when a person lies under six feet of earth he
would not have much time to contemplate his fate before na-
ture would do what the current ha.d failed to do.***

1 36 THE ENC YCL O P.ED I A OE DEA TH

The French Academy has adopted a series of rules for
the resuscitation of people who have been overcome by the
current, and they are to be distributed throughout France.

But this does not solve the question which is supposed to
be solved — that electrocution is a humane and painless method
of capital punishment

\

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 137

Dedicated to Those tVKo iflre Iivtenvperate.

ONE WHO PASSED TO SPIRIT-LIFE WITH DELIRIUM TREMENS.

HIS EARLY HISTORY HIS MOTHER HIGHLY CULTURED, YET AN IN-
EBRIATE HIS EMBRYONIC GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT HIS

SICKNESS HOW TORTURED BY PHANTOMS A VIVID PICTURE

OF HIS SUFFERINGS HIS ADVENT TO SPIRIT-LIFE, AND FINAL

REDEMPTION.

Well, you desire my earth-life history. Oh! how dark,
dismal, heartrending and disastrous! What lechery in earth-
life! What licentiousness there! I was brought into exist-
ence on the material side of life under very peculiar circum-
stances. My mother was a highly cultivated, intellectual
woman, with fine feelings and generous impulses. Although
she was addicted to the inordinate use of various kinds of
liquor, her soul always yearned for purity of life. Strange, in-
deed, that she should allow a pernicious taste to control her,
and bring her to a premature grave, but such was the case.
She nourished me into life, her youngest child, when her
whole system had become saturated with poisonous liquor.
Just think of it, my little, delicate organism reposing in the
womb, and sustained and nourished by one in such a condi-
tion! When my mother was excited through the dire effects
of inordinate indulgence, she molded my nature to partake of
the peculiar characteristics arising therefrom. When she reeled
under the influence of whisky, the material furnished to con-
struct my little body was of like nature. I was formed of
nourishment received directly from her, and each molecule
thereof was a confirmed drunkard — educated, disciplined and
marked in every respect for an inebriate! They were educated.

I c;8 . THE ENCYCL OF JED T A OF DEA TH

J

as it were, in a dram-shop, instructed there, and taught to
live on intoxicating beverages.

Every particle of nourishment that came from my mother
to aid in unfolding my physical structure, had been thoroughly
trained in her nature, before sent forth with its pernicious in-
fluence to form my S5'^stem. Allow me to say here, that the in-
fantile body, like all material objects in existence, is composed
of molecules of matter, obtained wholly from the organism of
the mother. They are educated by her; they are impressed
with her individuality; they are tinctured with the influences
that surround her; they are molded by her thoughts; and
when prepared for their future work they gravitate naturally
to the embryonic child, carrying the lessons impressed upon
them to shape the future life. The mother can educate her
child before it is born; the essence of the grandest princi-
ples in morality can be imparted then; purity of nature can be
formed in the womb, and a poet, a philosopher, or genius in
any respect, can, in a measure, be molded. I was badly dis-
ciplined in the embryonic state. Every atom or particle of
matter that my mother appropriated to build up my system
was dissolute in habits, was a miserable toper, and I was
obliged to lead the kind of life when born for which she in-
wardly directed me. Oh! how potent was my pre-natal in-
struction! .Her periodic revels prepared me for a wretched
life, and I could not restrain myself. I was powerless in my
efforts to refrain from intoxicating drinks.

As soon as I grew to boyhood, I commenced drinking in-
ordinately— my body was remorseless in its demands — liquor
it must have! No moral suasion would do me a particle of
good. I was constantly under the influence of liquor, and
how could it be otherwise, as I was nourished into life by food
that was tinctured with it? In fact, I was so constituted that
my organization demanded that unnatural stimulant. Oh!
what a wretched life I led! Each particle, atom or molecule
of my body might be considered a drunkard, manufactured by
my mother when she carried me in the womb, and when they
saw the beautiful light of day, they reeled and tottered as I
tried to stand erect, hence I always bore the appearance of
being somewhat inebriated.

Time passed on, and niy life became wretched indeed.
Finally I was attacked with delirium tremens. Oh! what a

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 1 39

horrible disease! How my soul shudders when I now think of
it! Pain racked every bone; my brain appeared to be on fire;
my whole nature was distorted. Life to me was then wretched
indeed. I seemed to be surrounded by thousands of serpents.
They floated around in the room. I could see their foul, slimy
forms; their forked tongues and poisonous saliva, and hear
their devilish hisses! How appalling the scene! Poets have
sung of the horrors of the regions of hell, but no pen-picture
could portray my misery! All the infernal devils of every im-
aginary pandemonium could not render me more miserable. I
was caressed by serpents, and they were as real and tangible
to me as anything on earth is to you. That condition of my
system was brought about by the infuriated molecules of my
body. They were made drunkards; they drove me to the poi-
sonous cup; they would not give me a moment's peace; they
demanded liquor and I gratified them.

I was sick only a short time, and, oh! how I suffered.
Those grotesque images, how they frightened me! They
seemed like so many fiends come to torment me. I cannot
enter into a discussion here as to how those images were
formed; it is enough for me and you to know that they existed
to tyrannize over me, and render my last moments wretched.
The more weak my system became, the more violent were
the phantom realities. They would crawl into my mouth, nose
and ears, and nestle in m}^ stomach, lungs and abdomen, while
their hisses and rapacious noises were intolerable to hear.
They would change their forms in a moment, to something, if
possible, more loathsome, and then dash at me as if de-
termined to annihilate me. One would open his large mouth,
and running out his tongue, would lave my face and e3^es with
it. Another would have the sting of a scorpion, and he would
thrust it into various parts of my body, and then turn around
and lick the wounds he had made. Another would wind itself
around my body, and then lifting its head, continue, for a time,
a steady watch at my eyes.

Bear this in mind, please: these phantoms were realities to
me. The ceiling of my room was covered with hateful im-
ages, and they all directed their piercing, fiery gaze at me! If
I closed my eyes, it made no difference, the dance of death
and the carnival of the serpents and horned devils would con-
tinue!

1 40 THE ENCYCL OPALDIA OF DEA TH

No pen can picture my misery; it was terrible to relate,
hideous in all its details. The foundation of this misery was
laid by my mother. She disciplined .my infantile body for a
drunkard. She stamped on my nature the word inebriate.
Each child is labeled when in the mother's womb with its most
prominent or distinguishing characteristic. Some are labeled
poets, others musicians, mathematicians, architects, or philos-
ophers. I was labeled for an inebriate, and I did not, during
my earthly career, succeed in tearing it away.

Finally I passed into an unconscious state, having been
to all appearance killed b}^ the insatiate monsters surrounding
me. I died under their influence, the most deplorable sight
in existence. Eventually, I appeared to revive into a sort of
dream-like condition. I felt as if crawling out of all kinds of
rubbish. The air seemed to be purer, the sky clearer, the flow-
ers more beautiful and sweet, and the scenery more grand. J.
felt as if a dark cloud had been removed, and that a brighter
life awaited me. I realized that a change had taken place. I
saw no loathsome snakes nor disgusting vermin, and my mind
was clearer and more serene. I realized that a grand change
in my condition had taken place, yet I felt as if I was still on
earth. I did not, for a moment, suppose that I was in Spirit-
life. I could not readily realize my true condition.

My awakening was very peculiar. At first, as I have said,
I seemed as if emerging from all kinds of rubbish and debris.
Gradually that disappeared and the scenes around me com-
menced brightening. I felt as if on a journey in a new coun-
try, and as I traveled on, the magnificence and grandeur
thereof continually increased. I could not realize how this
could be. Without any effort I seemed to move on, and each
step I took bewildered me the more. I saw no one — no onc'
seemed to respond to my earnest appeals for help. I did not
recognize the fact that I was dead. Those slimy serpents had
disappeared, affording me great relief, still I realized that my
condition was far from being desirable. Finally, I uttered a
fervent prayer for assistance, appealing in tender terms to
God, to send me relief. I could move only with great diffi-
culty, I was so weak. I felt as if I had just awakened from a
protracted debauch, with my system so enervated thereby that
I could not sit erect. Finally, I fell into a gentle, refreshing
slumber. When I awoke I found my darling sister and brother,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 141

long since deceased, accompanied by a spirit physician, stand-
ing by my side. Oh! how sweet the expression of that sister's
countenance! A halo of light encircled her features, and its
silvery, cloud-like richness made her have the appearance of
an angel! What transcendent loveliness in her bewitching,
tender smiles! She laid her hand upon my forehead, and said:
"Brother, you are in the Spirit-world. This humble apart-
ment that 3'ou are now in corresponds with your inner-life.
Those pictures of loathsome animals you see yonder, represent
the outward phj'sical conditions from which you have just es-
caped. Those shadows of the same poisonous, slimy crea-
tures, resting on the opposite wall, represent the fact that
your spiritual body is tinctured with the fruits of your habits
on earth, and that some time will elapse before the same can
be eradicated. Life to you has been a terrific struggle. Your
nature was educated for an inebriate, and in the maelstrom of
passion you were swept along to the grave. Your taste for
strong drink may still exist. You may yearn for that perni-
cious beverage which has made your life so miserable. Your
organism is very gross and dark now; and be cautious, or a
life of wretchedness will still be yours. You must resist all
thought of returning to 3^our old haunts of vice and demoral-
ization. You are honest, noble, philanthropic, and tender-
hearted in aspiration, and always desired to be strictly tem-
perate, and those promptings are the redeeming traits of your
character. They brought us to you this morning. They will
enable you to conquer your desire for liquor. You are weak
now and will remain so for several days yet."

My brother then said: '' I rejoice to mieet you on this oc-
casion. The condition of your physical system drove you into
a life of wretchedness. All our efforts to save you were un-
availing,— down! down!! down!!! you went, until you were
attacked by delirium tremens, resulting in your terrible death.
In aspirations you were always angelic; in habits of life a prof-
ligate. Your aspirations were subordinate to your passion for
strong drink, and the latter triumphed over you and ruled them.
Your desire now to live a correct life, to do good and thereby
progress upward, will triumph. We welcome you to the Spirit-
world, though it will be many n^onths before you can advance
to a higher sphere? "

The physician said: "You are weak, I see, my friend.

142 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

Your spiritual body has been badly affected by its earth dress,
or what is termed the physical system. Between the two there
is alwa3^s a close connection, and every glass of intoxicating
liquor you drank transmitted its pernicious influence to your
spirit. Your spirit is a storehouse of effects, and each effect is
a chapter in your life, from which I can read to judge you. It
is a grand old law that all the acts of life write their own his-
tory. No nefarious deed can be committed in secret, that will
not eventually be known in Spirit-life. By looking at your
spiritual organism, I can read your life-lines, tell the character
of your earth-life, as well as you can yourself. You are now
on the spiritual side of life, just having emerged from a heart-
rending sickness — delirium tremens. Your spiritual organism,
mirror-like, reflects your earth condition. By indulging inordi-
nately in intoxicating drinks, you molded your physical body,
and the spirit being connected therewith, received its pernicious
influences. In order to accomplish the grand work in view,
you must never place 3^ourself en j-apport with the inebriates of
earth, or remain long in the atmosphere where liquor is man-
ufactured. I see you are strong enough to conquer eventually.
A life of immortal bliss awaits you. Progression will in due
time carry you to the sphere of your dear brother and sister.
I have given them directions concerning you, and for a short
time I must leave you."

I fully realized the truthfulness of my spirit friends' state-
ments. I did, indeed, regret the wretched, dark appearance of
my spirit. It told plainly of a miserable, dissolute life. I then
fell into a calm, refreshing sleep, and when I awoke I was
greeted by enchanting music, which thrilled my soul and ani-
mated me with an intense desire to make rapid advancement.
That aspiration did not, however, remain permanent. There
was an attraction around the saloons of earth that would draw
me thither at times in spite of myself, and had it not been for
the unceasing efforts of my darling sister, I could not have
triumphed as soon as I did. Her attention was uniformly ten-
der and affectionate. Her smiles shed an illuminating influence
over my pathway, and her encouraging words I always carefully
treasured. For several weeks, however, I was compelled to
keep quiet. So weak, so enervated, so borne down by the per-
nicious influence of my earth-life was I, that it seemed as if I
was about to suffer the untold agonic? of another death. I

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 143

have been in Spirit-life many years, and still my spiritual or-
ganization is marred by the debaucheries of earth. A century
will not completely eradicate all the deleterious effects of my
licentious acts. Those who saturate their physical bodies with
poisonous liquors degrade themselves, not only on earth, but
in the Spirit-world. It is horrible to pass to Spirit-life through
the influence of delirium tremens. No one can die naturally
who indulges freely in intoxicating beverages. I have suffered
for my misdeeds more than tongue can express.

The only hell that I have ever found or suffered from is
the one that my mother and myself formed. During my pre-
natal existence, a tendency was given to my feelings and pas-
sions, and all the powers of my resolute will could not withstand
its potent influence. The bad habits of my mother were all
transferred to my infantile organism; deeply impressed on each
particle of matter composing it, and I, of course, suffered from
her transgression. Let each one read my narrative carefully,
and feel kindly and tenderly toward the erring. You, perhaps,
are pure and good. Your embryonic growth and development
were suitable to mold you properly. Never point the finger of
scorn toward the erring, but encircle them with your sympathy
and love, and tenderly exhort them to reform. My darling
sister never frowned on me once, when she was redeeming my
spirit from a life of shame. Kindness alone can effect the
reformation of the deepest-stained villain. Harsh measures
towards those who have sinned can accomplish nothing towards
refining theii brutal nature. Those who spurn the unfortunate,
or the criminal, can never progress while that feeling exists.
Always bear that thought in mind.

144 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

TKe Experience of a ProFoai\6 Scholar.

THE DAY AFTER DEATH BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED.

THE VIEWS OF AN EMINENT AUTHOR HIS ADVENT TO SPIRIT-LIFE

THE GREETINGS HE RECEIVED HIS RAPTUROUS DELIGHT

HIS ASPIRATIONS EMBODIED HIS COMPREHENSIVE VIEW OF

DEATH THE MILLIONS OF SOULS.

*The discourse to which 3^ou will now listen is suggested,
in thought and in language, by one who has lately departed
from earthly life, and who has been widely known among
Spiritualists.

The diction will be his, but the rendering of it will be by
the usual control of the medium, who speaks the thought and
language of the departed friend, who is standing near.

Oh! in thought-sleep, what dreams may come!

There is no pain in dying. It is as the ebbing of a tide;
as the flowing away of a stream; as the passing out of daylight
into twilight; as the coming on of autumn sunsets, wherein the
whole of the western sky is flooded with a glow of light; and
yet it is a wonderful surprise, even to one who is accustomed
to think of a future state when on earth; to one whose mind
has been carefully trained in all the schools of thought con-
cerning immortality; to one whose religion and intellectual
conviction both hinge with absolute certainty on the spiritual
state. To find oneself floating out from the fastnesses of time
into the immeasurable space of eternity, is such a matchless
experience that only those who pass through the portal of death
can understand.

*A discourse given by the Spirit Epes Sargent, through the medlumshlp of Mrs Cors
L, v. KUIunond. ISIr. Sargent was distingnished for his profound scholarship.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 145

The greatest surprise of all is that you feel the gliding
away of human things without a pang, or regret, or grief, or
pain. You feel that pain itself is departed, and that a pure,
ineffable flood is coming to you just across the harbor's bow.
The loosening of the human affections, the pang that comes to
the heart when you hear the sob of loved ones close beside you,
and cannot reply, is overbalanced by the thrill that accompa-
nies this loosening of the mortal tie, and you feel glad of death
even while it is upon you. One cannot understand, unless one
has passed to mountain heights and seen the glory of the sun
rise far out upon the sea; seen it suddenly come up, tipping,
for the moment, the waves with crimson and gold, and then
rise in full glory, as though never night had been there.

The realism of life besets one. continually, and one longs
to drag the mortal part into the immortal world, the shell into
pinions, the root and germ into the flower.

You forget that for every stage of life there is preparation
and growth, and it is as though you wished to .take your baby
garments with you and wear them in manhood. We cling to
the rags of clay; we cling to the fastenings of time. The moor-
ings of the senses beset us here and gird us roundabout. Oh,
what a sublime thing it is to feel suddenly grown to full man-
hood— those barriers broken, the bonds of sense dispersed; to
know that every inch of one's self is alive, and to feel not only
all present consciousness, but all past consciousness, and I
might say all future consciousness, crowded upon you.

The greatest wonder of all is, that everything in material
life remains the same, but transfigured. All sensation and
consciousness grows more and more palpable, until the very
heart-beats of one's friends are audible as the spirit is passing
away. As an overstrung instrument responds to every sound,
so the consciousness of the departing one, as you term it, is
more and more exhilarated, until the very thought which you
think becomes palpable to the one who is not dying, but about
to be born. You stand in the presence of death. To you it is
a receding wave. In my mortal past I have stood there many
times, watching with questioning mind the receding wave of
life, and the passing from the mortal to the immortal, and ere
I knew the great splendor of spiritual truth, I watched with
sadness and deep regret, with indefinable doubt and horror, the
condition that men call death; but in the great measure of late

146 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

manhood, and in the full strength and power of the last years
of life, I knew of spiritual existence, but I did not conceive
what it could be like.

If you have inhaled the perfume of a flower, but have never
seen one; if you have read musical notes, but have never heard
them expressed; if you have dreamed a dream of loveliness, but
never saw it embodied or impersonated; if you have thought of
love, but never loved, then you can imagine what the mortal
state is compared to the immortal — awake, alive, active, the
dull lethargy of pain and suffering departing as with a breath,
and the strong strength of active life, with its full vigor, surging
around, above, beneath; the ineffable rest, floating out into an
infinity of certainty, while all material things, save love and
consciousness, seemed evanescent — this was the experience. I
could feel all thoughts of those who stood near me. I could
contemplate the mind and heart wrung with bodily anguish, but
glad for me, for the release. I could hear my friends thinking
afar of: '* This 'is now about the time that he must go;" and
when the news spread with electric speed, I could hear them
say: *'One more worker is gone," though I knew thousands of
miles intervened between them and where my body was. I
could hear my friends think the world over. There were silent
heart-throbs answering to my life, and the ineffable questioning
of what he is doing now that would rise to the lips of those
•who heard afar off that the mortal frame had ceased to breathe.

Oh, but the quickening of the spirit! I cannot tell you
what it is like. It is like a symphony compared to one note;
like an oratorio compared to the simplest melody; like the
poem of Dante; like ineffable Milton; like the crowning light
of Shakspeare, all-pervading and all-glorious; like love itself,
that vanquishes the night of time and pain and death. I was
presented to myself. My thoughts, all of my past life, were
impersonated. Everything I had done or thought came be-
fore me in form — in beauty or deformity. Children, the waifs
of my fancy, supposed to have been conjured out of the teem-
ing brain of mortal life, were before me in reality. Characters
v/hom I had supposed purely ideal and imaginative, drawn
with fanciful pen and sent forth to illustrate a moral principle,
came up before me as living realities, saying: *'I was the one
of whom you wrote. I was the spirit inspiring such and such
thought," and every crowded fancy became impersonated, un-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 147

til, like little people seen in fairy visions, all ideals were real-
ized, and I laughed with these children of my fancy to find
them so real, standing around me, claiming me' for their spir-
itual parent, and saying they were mine forever.

Could you believe this? It is no imagination, but a re-
ality, that those of whom we wTite, and of whom poets weave
solemn and grand songs, and that fairies w^ho are pictured in
vision, for children to read, become realities in Spirit-life, and
are clothed with spiritual substance, peopling all the air with
rich and varied images. Love itself, most populous of the
peopled cities of the skies, and deities, as it were, of usurping
splendor, come thronging around one as one awakens from
the dream of life. Loves, told long ago, and seemingly half
buried beneath the withering hopes of manhood, came up
and claimed again their recognition. Friendship, that in the
crowded and busy mart of human things had been well nigh
forgotten, came up again as a living image and asked for its
own return. All love survives, and how it peoples the space
that elsewise would seem infinite and void!

I cannot think what death would be to him who has never
thought a truth, or dreamed a noble thing for humanity, or
loved any one. I am told there are barren wastes in human
souls devoid of love. I am told there are wildernesses in
Spirit-life devoid of flowers and children's faces and sweet
smiles, of grateful acknowledgment from those whom one
tried to succor and redeem in outward life. I am told this,
but I cannot think what the spirit would be without the peo-
pled cities of the imagination. I cannot think what it would
be without the created images of thought. Mine, crude as
they were, unbeautiful as they seemed in the clear light of the
spirit, dimmed somewhat by the faults and failings and falla-
cies of my material nature, seemed very dead to me; and this
city is awake; its peopled habitation is my new world. I did
not pass through space to find them. I did not go to a dis-
tant planet. Space seemed to come to me, and was at once
inhabited. I saw all friends of the earthly life as really as I
saw them before passing away, but from a different vision. I
saw them afar off, on the line of light of memory. I saw them
more clearly because I saw their spirits — this friendship that
I had valued too little; another that I had valued too much.
This mind that seemed a briltiant and shining light through

148 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEAT'H

the human lens, grew, perhaps, less brilliant, while another
that I had scarcely recognized suddenly loomed up before me
as a burning, shining planet.

In the spirit all things become real. We are no longer
masked by selfish desires and impulses. We see things with-
out the tinge of the external body. Even the material brain
loses its power to delude us. We are no longer sophists.
There is nothing upon which sophism can weave its web or
tissue of falsities. All things are made clear. We are spon-
taneous. We grow to become what our thought is, and our
light and life are made beautiful by the grandeur of the image
that we have built for humanity. Upon a thin and slender
foundation of goodness we rear the matchless fabric of im-
mortality, and eliminate all faults, of which we instantly be-
come more aware than in material life.

I cannot veil from you the fact that it must be a disap
pointment to him who has no conception of the immortal state.
The realistic mind of earth will find things so much more real
in the spiritual state that his shadows will vanish, and then
for a time he is lost. I was grateful for the birth out of ma-
terialism that gave me consciousness of a spiritual life. I was
grateful for the slight touch of fancy that could weave around
human things the splendor of great thought for humanity. I
know now why I have ineffable hope for every race beneath
the sun, because all races are peopled from the skies. I now
know why I had every hope for the uplifting of every child of
earth to the highest splendor. I now know why womankind
forever appealed to me with mute lips and longing eyes to be
released from the thraldom of the subtle chain that the ages
have woven around her. It was because of the spiritual firm-
ament I learned that the angel of life is dual, and man and
woman are fashioned in the image of God. I know now why
every secret hope, whether veiled within the skin of the Afri-
can, or bound down by the narrow limits of Oriental custom,
or veiled in the red man, appeals to me as belonging to some-
what beyond what matter and man had bestowed. It was be-
cause of the spiritual life that foretells everything, makes
speechless the wron%s of the nations, that they may rise one
day in magnificence and be redressed through the power of
the spirit. I know now why the world of politics, of struggles
for mammon; of all things that men pursue for gain, had no

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 149

allurements for me — not because I was wiser or better, but be-
cause I was chosen to do some other thing, and that other
thing was to hope always, ineffably and sublimely, that out of
the darkness light would come, and out of the seeming evils
and intricate threads of human existence there would rise the
blessed humanity of the future.

Coming toward me, space seemed to be filled with all I
had hoped and prophesied, and in the very antechamber which
I entered immediately after death I could see so much of eter-
nity that it would take the mortal breath awa}^, as it almost
did the breath of the spirit. There was no low, dim twilight.
There was no simple fading of existence and inanition. There
was no uncertainty. There was no bewilderment. There was
no pausing, as if in sleep, upon the threshold of that immor-
tal side, while tender hands would prepare, as they some-
times do, the immortal state. Suddenly, and with full power,
I sprang upright, and was aware immediately of being a form
— a being whose intensity pervaded and thrilled me, until I
seemed a part of the universe around — a form so like the one
which lay at my feet that I was startled at the resemblance,
save that one was shadowy, pale, and wan with disease and
suffering and labor, while the other was more than crowned
with the vigor of youth and manhood, so like myself that I
was fain to put away one form, so distressing is it to see one's
own very resemblance so near; and as one has sometimes seen
oneself in a mirror and wondered who it could be, so I gazed
upon the form, and I considered the reality and wondered for
an instant which would endure; but as that was already the
shadow, as no part of the individual me remained; as there
was not even breath, nor warmth nor coloring, as it was really
but the shadow, I was glad when it was laid away out of
earthly and human sight, since it could no longer mock the
eyes of the loved ones; and all the while I was there with the
great longing of my heart, with the enfolding arms and the
love that spoke audibly to the spiritual ear, yet they did not
hear. To talk forever to one's loved ones and not be heard
was insufferable. To think forever in spirit toward those who
are left behind and find no response would drive me mad. I
do not know what those spirits do whose friends put them
away in the tomb or in heaven and never let them talk to
them. If I were such a spirit, day and night I would haunt

I50 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

the chambers of their souls. I would speak out from the
silence of the air and compel them to hear.

Already I have spoken elsewhere; already I have reported
myself, but my word must be received here. I must speak
until the ears of the spirit shall hear, until the quickened un-
derstanding of the human brain shall know what a measureless
thing is death, until you shall know what enfolds you, encom-
passes you, girds you roundabout, encircles you with its life-
giving arms; for the very thing that men call death is that
which makes life endurable, and fills you with the possibilities
of being. But for those who were dead to outward life, who
existed in the air about me and in my consciousness, I would
have had no peopled fancies of brain, no thought of philoso-
phy, no aspiring hope; but for those whom you call dead, your
days and nights would be void of ambition. You would have
no mental air to breathe. The higher strata of existence would
be cut off. The supersensuous nature would be starved. You
would be stifled and famished in the prison-house, and the
little, feeble spark of life would die out, leaving the bodies
shriven, shrunken, lifeless automatons. But for that which
you call death, that vital breath, that living condition of being,
that sheltering and protecting power, that harmony and splen-
dor of all things, you would not be here this night; there would
be nothing to move you here. The spiritual impulses of the
universe would be forgotten; there would be no fountains of
inspiration, no thought of religion, no touchstone to immortality.

Men are played upon by spiritual beings as harps by the
wind. They hear the sound, but they do not know the source,
and as the red man turns his ear toward the pine trees, listening
to the solemn music, and thinking it the voice of the Infinite,
or of those who have gone to the hunting-ground afar off, so
when you hear this solemn music in the air above you, you
wonder what it is and turn away to your daily task, forgetting
that without it you were lifeless, cold, and dumb.

I am here to testify to death. As I once testified to hu-
manity, as feebly and faintly as one human being might who
hoped for the best, and strove always to find the truth, so now
with a greater strength, and with this born not alone of thought
but of being, I am here to testify of death. It is the living
splendor of the universe. Without it there is no spring-time
blossom. Without it there is no rare transmutation of things

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WOK ID. 151

that charges night into day. Without it there is no struggling
of the atom toward diviner possibilities of being. Without it
there is no removal of the relentless rule of nature, which is a
hardened form, and dull tune, and space, and sense. Without
it the ebb and flow of human affairs would become solidified
and crystallized, and man to-day would be petrified in the
midst of all his sin and crime, forever to remain a solemn
mockery in the great book of eternity. Without death you
could never rid yourselves of your errors. Without it you could
not grow into diviner manhood and womanhood. Without it
love would be voiceless; there would be no clasping of immortal
hands, and no tremblings of immortal thoughts along the cor-
ridors of being. Without it all life would be meaningless, for
there would be no love. You would be immured in sepulchers.
Your bodily existence would be a bane and mockery. The
breath of the spirit taken away, there could be no time and
eternity.

In the midst of this solemn splendor, where all of life
throngs around one, and where that which is basest and meanest
departs and slinks away into the shadows; in the midst of this
splendor, where every good thing survives and every base thing
perishes of its own inactivity and inanition, where gradually
the shadows, the infirmities of time and the deformities of sense
give place to the perfections of spirit and mind, I testify that
what has come to me is the resu:lt of death. I am transfigured.
The being that was seen and known on earth is I; and I am
more than this. I am all that I hoped to be. I am all that I
aspired to be. I was not wicked or sinful. I was imperfect,
as human beings usually are below; as they sometimes are,
struggling for higher possibilities. But I am now more than I
dared to dream. I am better than I dared to hope. I am the
humblest in the kingdom of the spirit, but I am greater than
the greatest aspires to be. So are you unveiled from your
mortal elements, the worst side of. which reveals itself in human
life. You become also transfigured. You are no longer the
weaklings that you seem. Humanity is no longer that which
through time and pain and sense bears the mocking image of
the divine, but humanity becomes divine. Even the slave — I
do not mean him who wears the shackles in form — but even
the slave in soul, who comes cringing into the world of spirit
by the gateway of death, even he who creeps and crawls with

152 THE ENCYCL OP^DTA OF DEA TH

terror toward the tomb, is greater in spirit than he seems,
greater than you would dare to dream that he might be.

Oh! what a revelator is death! I stand before you this
night, not of you, but perceiving that which is highest and best
in every soul, knowing that every thought, feeling and inspira-
tion toward goodness has its prototype in splendor in the
spiritual being; and I could show how, to your other selves,
that which is the possession of your immortal part is as grand,
as divine, as glorious as you dream, and the best of it is, death
makes all this possible to be known. It gives you the key to
the temple of your own life. There is but one other way by
w^hich you can know it, and that way dimly. I mean by in-
spiration or spiritual perception. It was denied me to have
the direct inspiration that many have. I was obliged to take
the testimony of others largely; but when I know that there
are those endowed with windows, through which they can look
heavenward, yet I know they cannot begin to see the glory that
is, mine, and I wonder sometimes that they do not burst the
barrier and be free. But the restraining hand of life is upon
them, and the higher restraint of that wisdom which forbids
the bursting of a bond until you have won your freedom. He
who seeks to avoid any difficulty in life by hurrying into the
world of spirit, finds the same impenetrable barrier before
him — himself ! He has not escaped from himself, nor from
any weakness that was within him. He must now meet it face
to face. It comes nearer and nearer. It crowds upon him.
He must overcome it in spirit as he failed to overcome it in
earthly life.

Ah! do not think that death will lead you to escape any
responsibilities. It brings you all your treasures. It yields to
you all your possessions. It restores to you all your faded
hopes. It gives back every blessed and good promise of life,
but it will not relieve you from responsibilities. These are
yours; you inherit them. They belong to you as part of the
infinite plan, and sooner or later, in one world or another, in
one state of being or another, you must meet and vanquish
them, one by one.

Sublime is death! Beautiful is the gateway! Intense as
is the rapture of the spirit when conscious of being, and of
form, and of life, there is nothing to allure one to the neglect
of any duty, or the fulfillment of any promise, for your poverty

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 153

of spirit is revealed by death, as is your riches, and you must
bear the test which the divine scrutiny brings.

Again I encompass you with this life; again I stretch out
the hands of my spirit in greeting to all who have known me;
again I say that which I believed I knew and that which I tes-
tified to, is now mine. That which I bore evidence of through
human intellect and brain, and such power as was given me, I
now bear evidence of in the oversweeping and overwhelmmg
power of spiritual existence. Through whatever brain I may
best speak, in whatever form I may best manifest, I will come
to those on earth whom I love. There is a need of the
added voice — I must speak to their hearts in anyway. They
must hear my voice audibly in their souls. They must make
room for me in their lives, for I wou],d cry aloud and make
them hear, though they were in the midst of the thunders of
Niagara.

To the world there shall be a voice; not one, but many;
not feeble and faint, as of one man crying in the wilderness,
but the voice of multitudes, millions upon millions of souls
speaking audibly by the gateway of life, and speaking to the
hearts of humanity. You will hear them. They cry, father.
You will hear them. They cry, mother, husband, wife and
child, and you pause in your daily career and wonder what
voice resembles one long silent in death. I tell you they will
crowd upon you until you must hear. They will speak to you
until you cease to put them afar off. They will look into your
eye from the spiritual world until you see that they live, and
recognize them. They will parade your streets. They will
image themselves in every form that is possible. They will
manifest by signs and tokens to the senses. They will grap-
ple with your understanding. They will make you aware of
the philosophies of being. They will solve to you the mys-
teries that you have put far from you, and will not listen to.
They will have you know that life, not death, is the destiny of
man, and that the sweet messenger you have named Death is
no longer noxious, dark and terrible, but the beauty of all ex-
istence, the crown of all being, the freedom of all slavery, the
triumph of all vanquishment, the gateway beyond the walls of
human limitations in Which you live, leading to the celestial
and eternal city where all are free in the light of their wisdoip
and love.

154 THE ENCYCL OPJS,DIA OF DBA TH

Oh! voiceless, yet audible sounds! Oh! millions of souls
that come thronging out of space! Ye speak with a sound
more mighty than the surging of the sea, more vocal than the
voice of the thunder of Niagara, more potent than the sweep-
ing winds over myriads of forests, more divine than the rush-
ing melodies of the many mighty masters attuning their harps
in sublime oratorios of existence. Death and life are one, and
these voices are the voices of your loved ones.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 155

Varioas Sei\satioi\s oF iKe Dyii\^

SPIRITS AND MORTALS GIVE THEIR VIEWS.

A SPIRIT THAT WAS TIRED 1 SEE A LITTLE BOAT COMING A

GOLDEN CHARIOT BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE OF A. M. GRIFFEN

THE PROCESS OF DYING AS WITNESSED BY DR. KAYNER •

THE SPIRIT PIERPONT.

A Spirit in the Olive Branch said: ''After a spirit has
dissolved its connection with the earthly tabernacle, known as
the body, it is tired; especially if it has suffered long with the
disease which sent it out. Then there comes a period of bliss-
ful peace and rest. You lie, as it were, in a dreamy state,
such as you often experience in the morning when, between
waking and sleeping, such pleasures come. The spirit friends
hover about it, giving it strength from their own magnetic in-
fluences, comforting it, lulling it as the mother lulls her child
to rest, until such time as strength is given it to think and act
for itself. It was thus in my case. I went out suddenly, in
full strength, consequently it did not take long for me to
awaken to the enjoyments and delightful influences everywhere
about me. The shock was terrible, and it was very sad for
me to witness the grief of my friends on earth. It took a long
time for me to become reconciled to this change of conditions.
I was, so far as my presence was concerned, at home in my
father's house as much as ever I was. I heard every word ut-
tered, saw the sadness, and, as it were, lived it, and felt it as
keenly as did any one of my relatives; but still I could not
make myself known. The door of communication was shut,
as they did not believe nor countenance this beautiful doctrine
of Spiritualism. They scouted it, and their unbelief has been
onf? of my hardest burdens to bear, for if they would only

1 56 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF BE A TH

open the door of their hearts and let me in it, would be so
comforting to us all. The family would then become reunited
through the bonds of spirit-communication, and we should all
taste of the realities of immortality. But I must not digress
nor be too particular. To resume: I remained about the
house and followed the members of my family closely for a
long time, and was very unhappy. The good spirit-friends
did all they could for me, but I refused to be comforted. I
wished to talk with father and mother, and hosts of other dear
relatives. Others could talk to their friends, but I could not.
One day, as this medium well knows, I succeeded in getting
possession of Mrs. Fletcher, in Boston, and there made my-
self known. It was a joyful hour to me; but not so joyful as
when I found that I could control the tongue and pen of the
person now writing this. My sorrow departed. Gladness filled
my heart. I could commune with earth-friends, and my pos-
sibilities of doing good were enlarging. Then I commenced
to be happy, and to understand the philosophy and signif-
icance of this life, its duties, and its vast connections. In com-
ing to the medium I found I was benefiting him as well as
gratifying myself. My friends here noticed the change, and
to me was imparted a duty of developing and helping him in
every possible manner — a very pleasant duty, and one which I
have performed to the best of my ability, and one which I
always shall perform, as we are, in spirit, more to each other
than he ever dreamed of. I see now clearly."

"1 SEE THE ANGELS NOW."

The Rev. A. A. Miner, D. D., related the following
touching incident in The Universalist:

It was Thursday, May gth. I was called to the house
very near my own at about half-past eleven in the forenoon.
Mr. and Mrs. Norris were in a flood of tears. Mrs. N. ex-
claimed, as I entered: ''Our hearts are breaking!"

It was manifest that their only remaining child, Julia,
could survive but an hour or two. The truth had just been
opened to them. The Doctor had said: ''There is no hope."
The quick ear of their bright little girl, just turned eleven
years, had heard it. "Did you mean me?" she said. *'I have
a very sick patient at the Highlands," said the doctor, "who
may not recover." Mature beyond her years, Julia compre-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 157

hended it. *'I think you mean me," she said. ''Would you
feel badly if you thought you should not recover? " asked her
mother. *'Oh! no!" replied Julia, ''for I should then see lit-
tle Henry (a brother who had died three years before). "I
have always wanted very much to see him."

I had come, meantime, at her request. Turning to me
she said: "I thank you fo*" your coming." After a little, her
thoughts turning again to the meeting of Henry, she added:
"And I shall see Cousin Maria Vose and Grandma Avery, and
a great many I can't now think of." The Savior, too, was in
her thoughts. "If you do see Henry," said her mother, "will
you tell me?"

"Yes, I will tell you," she replied. "I want you to lay
me at Forest Hills, beside Henry, and put just such a little
monument over me as there is over him. I always thought
that was lovely. "

"We shall come out there often," added the mother,
" and bring flowers to lay on your grave."

" For both?" suddenly responded the little girl. Turning
to her mother, she said: "Don't cry; it will be but a little
while before Henry and I will both come for you."

The minutes wore on. Her suffering was great. She
threw herself from side to side, and could not rest.

Presently she said: "I see a little boat coming toward
the shore; I guess I shall go now."

"Do you see Henry?" eagerly inquired her mother.

"No, I don't see him," she replied. A few minutes

elapsed, when she exclaimed: "Now I see him in the middle
of the boat. He has got to the shore. I shall go now.
Good-by; " and calling father, mother, grandmother, uncle,
pastor, and other friends in the room, she gave every one a
parting kiss.

I had all this time watched her steadily, sometimes hold-
ing her hands, sometimes her head, listening to these choice
sayings, to which she added, a few minutes later: "I see the
angels now." At twenty minutes to one she breathed her
last. Through all that hour not a single anxious look upon
her face, nor one incoherent word. Such was the last hour of
JuLa Avery Norris.

158 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

INCIDENTS AMONG THE SHAKERS-MOTHER ANN LEE.

'*On July 2ist, 1874," says a writer in The Shaker, *' Wm.
Lee, the noble brother of Mother Ann, died, more from in-
juries received at the hands of mobs, and from complete ex-
haustion than from any other noticeable cause. Immediately
after this brother's decease, the physical breaking down of
Mother Ann was particularly observed; and her oft-repeated
expressions of: * Brother William is calling to me;' and:
*Yea, brother, I am going soon,' caused her companions to
feel great anxiety, and to question the cause of these remarks.
She would answer that she often saw William beckoning her
to come, and that she knew she must soon go. She grew
weaker and weaker in body, yet stronger, if possible, in the
encouragement of people to keep the faith, and to be more
faithful after she had gone. On the eighth of September,
1874, a few minutes after twelve in the morning, she said: '/
see Brother William coming in a golden chariot, to take me homef
and then breathed her last without a struggle or a groan.
Thus closed the life of a remarkable woman — a woman who
was fully acquainted with unmerciful grief and worldly per-
secution."

THE EXPERIENCE OF ONE WHO SEEMED TO BE DYING.

The following, from the pen of A. M. Griffen, a young
man of fine talents, and highly mediumistic, contains many
thoughts that will be read with deep interest:

*'For some time previous to the autumn of 1874, I had
been considerabty exercised in mind and spirit about the Spirit-
world and its denizens. Many spirits came to me consciously
through my own powers of mediumship, and I was almost daily
and nightly in mental or psychic communication with some
unseen human intelligence and love-nature. But my spirit
father, the one dear spirit whom I most desired to commune
with, seldom came to me. One evening, an earnest desire,
mingled with a feeling of despair, possessed me. 'Oh, why
did not my dear father come to me in some tangible and posi-
tive form and convince me beyond the slightest doubt of the
reality oi spirit life?' This was the one thought of my mind
during the evening and until I retired. Soon after retiring for
the night I fell into an unusual, drowsy condition, which par

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 159

tially obscured my intellectual faculties, but intensified the
feeling of life (if I may use the term) which pervades the living
being. Gradually an emanation of minute magnetic particles
began to take place from every part of my body, v^hich I per-
ceived (with the psychic sense) to be forming a cloud-like
appearance just over my body. I was now wholly conscious,
but utterly powerless to move any part or member of my body.
I was impressed from an intelligent source with the thought
and belief that I was dying, and that it was necessary to com-
pose my mind and pass through the transformation quietly;
indeed, I was compelled to do so by a superior will, from whose
influence I could not escape, nor even desire to escape. Total
unconsciousness intervened, from which I awoke with spiritual
arms entwined around the neck of a dear, loving spiritual
form, and my lips could only utter: ^ My dear, dear father!'
and such a feeling of confiding, loving childhood pervaded me
that the words, 'except ye become as little children,' needed
no interpretation. A strong, yet soft and beautiful aura of
paternal love, flowing from the breast and being of his spirit,
enveloped me, and I felt within my innermost soul — *Oh, how
blessed!' Then I was permitted to take note of matters with
the * scientific eye.' The seat of consciousness and thought
seemed, as ever, to be in the brain; the respiration seemed to
be very slight during the time that I took note of it, though I
believe it to have wholly ceased during a large portion of the
duration of the experience. My spiritual head and chest were
not, so nearly as I could judge, separated from the physical;
but of arms I possessed two pairs — two lifeless appendages,
which seemed utterly useless and impotent to do the bidding
of an immortal spirit; and another two, transparent, golden,
soulful, intellige7it arms and hands, which could perceive or feel
the essential nature of substances and their combinations, with
unerring certainty. These spiritual hands and arms I passed
through material substances (bed-clothing, etc.), as though they
were vacancy itself. Matter in itself possessed no attribute
that the spirit hand which I possessed could feel or in any
manner cognize, or sense; but the spirit body of my father im-
parted an exceeding^ exquisite sensation through and to the
fingers whenever I touched it. So intensified and exquisite
was the sense of touch belonging to the spirit fingers, that to

1 60 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

compare it to the sense of touch as normally possessed by us,
would be like comparing daylight with darkness.

"After experimenting and testing the powers of the spirit
for a little time, the beloved spirit form withdrew, and my mind
was overshadowed by 'the superior will,' and I desired to
return to the deserted tenement of clay, which I did, by a pro-
cess of which I was unconscious.

"From this phenomenon I am led to the conclusion that
the spirit possesses pre-eminently the sense of touch equivalent
to an intelligent sense-perceptive faculty, radiating from the
pivotal will-center of the being; and, secondarily, a sense of
sight, which is but another form of the same sense-perception,
less soulful in its activity; by which I mean that emanating
particles from the spiritual form and from surrounding spiritual
objects and substances do not so actively and profusely co-
alesce. These are, however, too meager data from which to
construct a science of spiritual biology, and I simply drop them
into the great reservoir of facts pertaining to the spiritual realms
of life, with the hope that some day the giants of the earth and
heaven may work out a glorious science and philosophy of man
as a spirit."

THE PROCESS OF DYING, AS SEEN BY THE CLAIRVOYANT VISION.

D. P. Kayner, M. D., of St. Charles, 111., an excellent
medical clairvoyant, while attending Dr. Barnes Coon during
his last illness, beheld the changes and spiritual scenes as por-
trayed in the following sketch, taken from his discourse de-
livered at the funeral, held in the Congregational Church at
that place, February 12th, 1874. He said:

"Spiritualism furnishes the oil of joy for mourning!
Friends, dry for the time your tears. Let your sighs of sorrow
cease and your sobs of grief be hushed, and for a moment let
the imprisoned senses of your souls be released, that you may
hear beyond the ken of the outer senses.

"Refer to the period when you were gathered around the
bedside of our brother, whose remains now lie before us, palsied
by the touch of the Death Angel's hand, and then extend your
internal soul-powers beyond the shores of the mortal to the
beautiful land of immortal day, whose evergreen shores betoken
life and vigor, ever growing and eternal.

"And now, with me, look and listen. See, as I then saw,

AND LIFE JN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. i6i

that group of lovely children arrayed in white robes, with
chaplets of flowers, and wearing wreaths which looked as
beautiful as though they had been woven out of mingled sun-
beams and roses.

''Behold the angel forms of beauty of those noble men
and women, w^hose countenances shine with the beaming wis-
dom of that diviner life, gathering with those children in grand
procession, arrayed as for some festive occasion.

''Listen! The bells of the glorious Temples of Truth are
chiming with notes of gladness, and bands of celestial music
discourse with harmonies yet unknown to earth the joyous
strains.

"What means this vision?

"Turn now for a moment and follow that golden ray of
light shining through all the gloom of earth's sorrow down to
the cottage of our departing friend, and you will find by his
bedside a group of ministering spirits, such as are sent to
minister to those who shall become heirs of salvation. They
are there to assist in the process of separation and formation,
and to bear the freed immortal spirit to the golden and ever-
green shores of the Summer-land. And what we have before
witnessed in that land, were the preparations to receive and
welcome home our aged brother.lt was an occasion of general
joy and rejoicing, that -one whose life in the form had been
crowned with so ripe an age, whose days had all been marked
by kindness, and whose spirit had been expanded by com-
munion with the world of spirits beyond the transitory scenes
of this life, was now to become an inhabitant of that land for-
ever. Hence, they had congregated to *meet him at the river,'
and to manifest their universal respect for his integrity, up-
rightness, humanity and goodness; and they have given this
vision to furnish 'the oil of joy for mourning; the garment of
praise for the spirit of heaviness.'

"Often, previous to his last illness, our aged brother had
talked about the change through which he has now passed,
with as much familiarity and with as little fear as he would
converse about the ordinary affairs of every-day life, and has
often expressed himself ready and willing to go whenever the
death angel should come with his golden key to open before
him the gateway that leads to eternal life.

"And during his last hours on the earth, his i-esurrection

. i62 THE ENCYCL OPALDIA OF DBA TIT

from the dead — the withdrawal of his spirit — himse],!' — from
the clayey tenement which belongs onh' to this earthly sphere*
was witnessed by me clairvoyantly. The white-robed Mnes-
sengers, ' of whom we have already spoken — six in nnmber — ■
were seen standing aronnd the bed as the spirit w^as passing
from the head and chest. It looked at first Hke a vapor or
mist, which gradually rose and took form above the head until
our resurrected brother stood in our midst. When this process
was completed, a beautiful female spirit, clothed in purest
white, approached our now spirit brother, wearing a sash com-
posed of wreaths of flowers, mostly white, resting upon the
right shoulder and crossing to the left hip, bearing in her
hands another wreath with a large and beautiful white flower
in the center, and with this she crowned our risen brother.
He then made an audible expression in his attempt to express
his thankfulness, and severing his connection from the now. to
him useless body, they all floated away, to be received by the
procession already spoken of, which had assembled on the
other shore to welcome him home. Thus he put away 'the
spirit of heaviness,' to be crowned with the wreath of undying
love, and to be clothed with the garment of everlasting praise."

DEATH AND SLEEP.

There is a sort of dreamy consciousness attending the
dying, that makes it bear a close resemblance to sleep.

The dream that Governor Hampton (S. C.) had on one
occasion bears a close analogy to scenes often witnessed by the
dying. The editor of the Columbia (S. C.) Register, in the
course of an account of a visit to him on one occasion when he
was very sick, tells a striking story of a dream which the Gov-
ernor had at the crisis of his case. The visitor, about to take
his leave, said to the Governor: *'At least, in all your serious
illness, you had the devoted love of your own people."

''Ah, yes, sir," was the hearty, deep-toned reply, ''never
man more. I believe, as confidently as I do that I live, that
the prayers of the people saved my life. I will tell you why I
feel and believe it so firmly. While I was lying here at the
point of death, and had become utterly indifferent whether I
lived or died, I got a letter from an old Methodist preacher,
one of my old friends. He wrote me word informing me of the
deep and devout petitions in behalf of my restoration by the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 163

Methodist Conference, then in session at Newberry. He then
urged upon me to exercise my will to live in response to the
supplications of the people of the whole State, who were pray-
ing for me night and day in every household in the State. My
sister, who had tremblingly brought the letter to my bedside
and read it to me, then urged me to listen to the kind, loving
words of the man of God, and to arouse my will to live, and I
promised to do so. I fell into a deep sleep that night, and the
most vivid dream I ever experienced in my life crossed my
slumbers. I dreamt I was in a spacious room, and that in it I
was moved to all parts of the State, so that I met all my
assembled friends everywhere. I remember most distinctly of
all old Beaufort, where I had last been. It seemed that there
were immense assemblages, and as I looked down upon them
a grave personage approached me, and touched me on the
shoulder, and said to me: 'These people are all praying for
you. Lfive! live! live! ' I never realized anything like it before.
It seemed a vision. I woke the next morning feeling the life-
blood creeping through my veins, and I told my family the
crisis was passed and I would get better."

THE FIRST STATE OF RESUSCITATION AFTER DEATH.

The Spirit Pierpont, in the Banner of Light, responds to
this question: Can you tell what occurs to a spirit during its
first state of resuscitation after death?

Answer — We will reply to that question by stating what
occurred to ourself, individually, in the first stage of resusci-
tation after leaving the mortal form. A similar experience, we
know, has been undergone by many others. After we found
ourself separated from the earthly body, and realized our
new condition, a sense of exaltation, of triumph, of perfect
freedom, seemed to thrill through our entire being. Indeed,
it appeared as though we could expand and fill the universe;
our powers seemed unbounded. But as we passed away from
earthly scenes, and came into association with ethereal beings
of the higher life, and entered within the realm proper of the
spiritual spheres, we found our powers unfolding more and
more, until we were enabled not only to comprehend the in-
structions of those spirits of the higher life who were directed
to teach us, but we could go beyond them, and take up les-
sons which appealed to the interior sense, and brought a com-

1 64 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

prehension of the divine laws of the universe to our mind.
We have seen spirits who, upon awakening from the comatose
state thrown upon their spirits by passing through the change
which you call death, appeared startled and depressed; they
could not understand their surroundings or condition. They
did not feel glad they had been freed from the bondage of the
physical form. They desired and struggled to enter the ma-
terial body once more, in order to take up the old life where
they had lain it down. Consequently they were unhapp}^, rest-
less and discontented, and had no desire to learn the lessons
which spiritual life afforded them. It would be impossible for
us to attain and convey to mortals a knowledge of all the va-
rious experiences through which individual spirits pass upon
awakening to their surroundings in the eternal world. Could
we do so, we would indeed be worthy to be ranked among
those who are infinite.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 165

jjl ^irlK Oat oF Dark Coiv6iliQi\s.

COULD NOT BE EASILY CONVINCED OF HIS DEATH.

A spirit's dilemma HE DOUBTED HE WAS IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD

HE WAS BROUGHT TO A MEDIUM PERFUME IN THE ROOM OF

THE DYING ^THE NEW BIRTH EXQUISITE PICTURES.

On one occasion D. C. Densmore, an excellent medium,
stated in his Voice of Angels that while quietly sitting in his of-
fice waiting, Micawber-like, for something to turn up, and
while contemplating the boundless sea of humanity struggling
to better their condition, some in one way and some in an-
other, he saw his angel-daughter, Tunie, coming towards him,
followed by a fine, intellectual-looking gentleman; and al-
though this stranger could neither see her nor hear her talk,
yet he could both see and hear Mr. D. ; and being entirely un-
conscious of her presence, it was thought that in coming he
was actuated by his own mind; yet it was through her unseen
influence that he came. Recognizing no one but himself and
perceiving that he wished to communicate something, Mr.
Densmore arose and received him in the same manner he
would a stranger in the mortal.

After introducing himself, he hesitated as if in doubt
what further to say. A few days previous Tunie had told Mr.
Densmore she intended as soon as possible to introduce a gen-
tleman to him who by accident passed into the Spirit-world
in the full vigor of mature manhood, and that, having im-
bibed the idea before he died that there was no other life than
the earthly one, he landed in the world of causes with that
thought uppermost in his mind; and although he had been
there many months, no one, as yet, could convince him he

i66 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

had changed worlds. To convince him of his error, Tunie
said, was the object in bringing him to Mr. Densmore. This
information partially prepared him as to his spiritual condi-
tion; and as she told him at the time he was so firmly filled
with the idea that there was no other life after the death of
the body, she doubted favorable results; yet she thought it
best to try. Although Mr. Densmore had but few doubts of
his being the one she referred to, still, judging from his intel-
lectual appearance, he was not quite sure, as he hardly
thought it possible that such a one could be carried away
with such erroneous views. But through the suggestive ex-
pressiveness of Tunic's lovely face, he felt assured the gentle-
man before him was the one she had spoken of.

After getting his confused thoughts together, the visitant
commenced speaking as follows: ''I came here, sir, through
the influence of some well-meaning, but deluded strangers, to
ascertain whether I am dead or alive. They also assured fhe
that my wife, who has been, dead over ten j^ears, was mostly
instrumental, through others, in getting me here. Now, don't
you think it a singular, not to say ridiculous, mission for a
well, healthy man, in the full vigor of strength and manhood,
as I am, to be running around to find out whether he is dead
or alive? The idea is so supremely ridiculous and absurd I
can find no words strong enough to express my surprise that
there could be any one, claiming one iota of common sense,
who can entertain such a palpable absurdity a single moment;
yet it is so, for there are old and young, good-looking and
bad-looking, learned and unlearned, all telling me I am as
dead as a pilchard; and while they are telling me this, I am
telling them, in tones that can be heard five blocks away, that
I am alive, and as well in mind and body as they are; but all
to no purpose; for they keep repeating the same thing over
and over again. Now, sir, how are we going to settle this
matter — that is, find out who is right and who is wrong? If
a man can't tell whether he is dead or alive, I don't see how
anybody else can. Look at me, sir; examine me critically
[straightening up to his fullest extent] ; feel of me, sir, and
see if my muscles are not as hard and rotund as yours. Look
at my teeth [opening his mouth], and see for yourself if they
are not as perfect as anybody's. Hear that [stamping one of
his feet on the floor] , and then tell me, if you can, that a dead

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. • 167

man can make such a noise as that. I'll tell you what it is,
sir, I have seen plenty of people carried away with all sorts of
hallucinations, but never before heard of anything half so fool-
ish and silly as this. Now, sir, after listening to what I have
said and done in your presence, tell me, upon the honor of a
gentleman, if you think I am in reality a dead man?"

This was a poser to the medium, Mr. Densmore. For
here the visitant was, to all appearances — as far as his own
sense of seeing, feeling and hearing was concerned — as much
alive and in as good health of body and mind as he ever was,
and he not only knew it himself, but demonstrated it to
others.

Happening to look up at this juncture, Mr. Densmore
saw a well-dressed, intellectual-looking lady, about thirty-five
years old, gently leading by the hand two children, appar-
ently eight or ten years of age; they followed Tunie towards
where the stranger was standing. Perceiving by Tunic's looks
that the lady was the earthly companion of the incredulous
gentleman, Mr. Densmore anxiously awaited results. Know-
ing that spirits on the lower planes in Spirit-life can neither
see nor hear those on higher ones until they have thrown off
some of the adherents of their earthly conditions — which can
only be done by coming en rappo?'t with those on the mundane
plane — he knew that the unfortunate visitant could never be
convinced of his error until his spiritual senses were opened,
so far, at least, as to see and hear those around him. This
usually occupies two or three seances to accomplish. Happily,
this was not the case with his strange visitor; for by this time
his sense of hearing was developed. Perceiving this, his wife
purposely engaged in earnest conversation with hcj.* friends
relative to his life's history — which was a remarkable one —
and which nobody but his wife and himself knew anything
about.

Soon after she commenced talking Mr. Densmore noticed
him listening intently to something which made him very
nervous, as he kept looking first one way and then another,
seemingly anxious to ascertain from whom and whence the
talking came, and in the meantime edging nearer to where he
was seated. At last, apparently unable to bear the suspense
longer, he asked Mr. Densmore, in a suppressed tone: *'Who
is that talking?" He told him it was his wife, in conversa-

1 68 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

tion with her friends, naming them. Upon hearing this, he
straightened up and said: ^'That can't be so, for my wife has
been dead over ten years, and some of the parties you men-
tion more than twenty. Hence it cannot be them. And yet
[soliloquizingly], how came strangers with the secrets of my
life?" Continuing his reverie, he said to himself: *'This thing
must be looked into. Say, stranger," addressing Mr. Dens-
more, *'how came these ladies here, and where did they come
from — one of whom claims to be my wife?"

He was told that his wife came there to meet him, through
the law of mutual attraction, to assist him out of his low spirit-
ual condition into a higher one, just as she always assisted
him in earth-life to gain a competence for his family.

At this time, although his sense of hearing was unfolded,
he could not see. He then said: ^'I can hear people talk-
ing, and one voice sounds very much like my wife. I wish I
could see who it is." At this announcement one of the party
approached and made passes over his head and eyes, when all
at once, seemingly as by magic, the film that obscured his vis-
ion was removed, and his spiritual eyes were opened; but by
his motions, it was evident that the light was too strong for
his new-found spiritual eyes; for he placed one hand over his
natural eyes, to screen them from the light, as one would
when coming out of dense darkness into a brilliantly-lighted
room. After remaining thus for a few moments, with his head
turned to one side to more effectually screen his eyes, the lady
still making passes from his head downwards, he drew a long
sigh, as if relieved of some great burden. He then removed
his hand, .and looking wonderingly around, said: '^ Where
am I?" In answer to which the magnetizer replied: *'You are
at home once more with your family, whom you have mourned
for many years as lost to you."

Up to this time, although he could see, he did not recog-
nize the lady making the passes, although a sister of his wife;
but after looking at her intently for a moment, he exclaimed:
''Why, Mrs. M. ! Is that you? I thought you died a dozen
years ago." Then pressing his hand to his forehead, as if
trying to collect his confused thoughts again, he said: *'If you
are alive, as you seem to be, why may not my wife and chicks,
who were snatched from me ten years or more ago, be alive
?ilso?" Hearing this, his wife, who had purposely kept out of

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 169

sight until the opportune moment arrived, advanced with her
two children towards him, when Mrs. M., his sister-in-law,
said: **Allow me the inestimable pleasure of introducing to
your special care and attention Mrs. K. and children," while
tears of joy were streaming down the cheeks of all present, in
the midst of almost oppressive silence, when he exclaimed:
*^Oh, May! May! Are you indeed my long-lost wife? And
here (looking at his children), as my soul liveth, is little May,
and Bessie, too."

In conclusion Mr. Densmore said: '' Here language fails to
depict the scene that followed the grand denouement, and I will
not attempt it. Suffice it to say, I have witnessed many similar
scenes before, yet this was the most soul-absorbing one, draw-
ing out all the finer sensibilities of sympathetic souls, that ever
fell to ftie lot of mortal to witness. After the first ecstatic
greetings between husband, wife and children were over, and
while the wife was leaning lovingly upon her husband's arm,
with his other gently encircling her waist, with a child on either
side, and while tears of joy were still trickling down the cheeks
of all present, the happy united family group, followed by their
relations and friends, quietly passed out of sight, all joining in
singing the doxology, and then I found myself alone, meditating
upon the scene I had just witnessed."

ROOM FILLED WITH A BEAUTIFUL PERFUME.

The Banner of Light contains the following question and
answer:

Question — A young woman, after a long, painful illness
(consumption), died. For an hour or more pi'evious to the
spirit leaving the body, and for some considerable time after-
wards, the room was filled with a beautiful perfume, which was
noticed by all present, and no one could account for it. Please
explain.

Answer — We cannot explain this particular case, not hav-
ing come in contact with any spirit who was present, but the
phenomenon was undoubtedly of spiritual origin. Spirits may
have brought quantities of flowers from the other world, and
surrounded the inanimate form of the departed with those blos-
soms; or what seems to us to be most probable, the perfume
noticed may have emanated from the spirits themselves, who
were present at the hour of dissolution to welcome and bear

I70 l^HE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

away the new-born spirit. Understand us when we make the
assertion that spirits of an exalted degree emit from their per-
sons a fragrance, a perfumed emanation, which, under certain
circumstances, may be plainly discernible by mortals as well
as by those spirits around them. All spirits and all mortals
emit from their persons emanations; they are surrounded by a
magnetic aura which passes through their being and envelopes
them. This emanation has an odor of its own. Those who are
crude, undeveloped, vicious, so to speak, in their natures, emit
an odor which is intensely disagreeable and foul; those w^ho are
very high and exalted, spiritual in their tendencies and habits,
emit an odor which is delightful to the senses, sweet and deli-
cate. There are all sorts of odorous emanations between the
two extremes of which w^e speak, consequently it may have
been that those spirits who gathered together to welcome the
new-born soul, emitted such a powerful fragrance as to fill the
atmosphere and become perceptible to the senses of those in
mortal form.

IN THE LIGHT OF MODERN SPIRITUALIS.^.

in the light of modern Spiritualism, death is merely the
cessation of bodily activities, the departure of the soul from the
outer form. The body becomes so weakened by disease or age
that it is no longer capable of responding to the spirit, and it
withdraws its forces, rises out of the material. This is the new
birth, the resurrection of the spiritual body. When it is com-
pleted, the outer form is dead, and weeping friends gather
around, mourning the loss of one who looks in pity upon the
grief it has no power to assuage. — Spiritual Offering.

HE SAW EXQUISITELY BEAUTIFUL PICTURES.

The biographer of Dr. Norman Macleod states that the
night before his death "he described with great delight the
dreams he had been enjoying, or rather the visions which seemed
to be passing vividly before his eyes, even while he was speak-
ing. He said: 'You cannot imagine what exquisite pictures I
see! I never beheld more glorious highlands, majestic moun-
tains and glens, brown heather tinted with purple, and burns —
clear, clear burns; and above, a sky of intense blue — so blue,
without a cloud.' " On the day of his death he said: '' I have
had constant joy, and the happy thought continually whispered,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 171

Thoii art with me!' Not many would understand me; they
would put down much I have felt to the delirium of weakness,
but I have had deep spiritual insight." Very shortly before he
died he said to one of his daughters: ''Now all is perfect peace
and perfect calm. I have glimpses of heaven, that no tongue,
or pen, or words can describe."

172 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

He Foai\6 HinvselF ii\ a Desolate Desert.

AFTER-DEATH EXPERIENCES OF AN AVARICIOUS MAN.

SPIRITUAL MISERY SEEMINGLY AN EXILE THE MAN OF MEANS

ONLY A STEWARD THE TWO ANGELIC MESSENGERS A VISIT

TO THE SPIRIT-WORLP SAW HIS DECEASED SISTER.

^Mutual responsibility exists between two persons sitting
for communication with the spiritual life. One, to exalt his
thoughts to those spheres of life and thought from which em-
anate truthful and exalting responses; the other (medium), to
faithfully report all the thoughts and emotions he experiences
while in the receptive state.

The medium should be very quiet and attentive, and in a
listening, receptive, reverent state of mind. He must respond
to that inner voice which urges him to express the thoughts
and feelings born from within. He lives in a state of worldly
care and doubt, but these must be put away from his atten-
tion during an attempted communion with exalted spiritual-
ized beings. He should endeavor to close out and forget for
the time being the external world, and all its varied forms and
activities, and reach upward toward spiritual life. * * -J^-

I am one who was once a man of reputation and material
resources. There was a hard look of cold disdain for all w^ho
had not reached that plane of material wealth to which I had
attained. I knew the power of money, and sought by every
means to acquire and retain it; my powers of thought were all
concentrated on that one object. It was with delight I read
and listened to every project that promised an increase to my

*A spirit-communication through Louis Taussig, of Philadelphia, to Dr. Franklin
Stewart.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 1 73

already large accumulations. It was with such a state of
thought and feeling that I closed my eyes on all things earthty,
and awakened to find myself reduced to the state of beggary
which I had so often treated with cold disdain or heartless in-
difference. You may imagine my surprise and mortification on
awakening from my stupor of death, and coming to the con-
sciousness that I had been deprived of all my earthly goods.
It was stupefying, and plunged me in a state of despondency
and distress which I cannot very well relate.

The moment I became aware that I had emerged from the
chrysalis state of life to one of fuller expression of thought
and feeling, I began to seek for the causes that had robbed me
of my money and position.

I looked around and saw myself surrounded by a vast des-
ert that seemed almost without limit, and dreary to a degree
impossible to describe. I seemed to be in the midst of bound-
less solitude, awful in its oppression, silence and vacancy. It
produced no impression upon the mind but that of utter worth-
lessness, and was lacking in objects to attract and fix the at-
tention. It was a weird domain of spiritual misery, and pro-
duced a sense of miserable and utter loneliness! No human
being in sight to remind me of my relationship to, and neces-
sity for, other human beings — a necessity which I now began
to feel.

I seemed to be an exile from all that I had ever known or
felt. An icy coldness pervaded the atmosphere; a chilling,
oppressive sense of desolation, which no words of mine could
even impress upon your consciousness. I seemed to be driven
out from society, a vagrant wanderer over desert lands, that
were completely lacking in all the essentials to human happi-
ness and comfort!

This state of my mind was one of intense agony. I looked
everywhere for something external to myself. A stone, a blade
of grass, a stunted and w^ithered bush, would have been to me
beautiful and comforting indeed; but those, poor as they are
in your estimation, were denied me. I was alone! An awful
sense of oppression, solitude, and dreariness! My soul seemed
to be shut out completely from all association with other
things or beings. To my consciousness came the awful thought
that I had become lost in some vast, boundless sea of sand,
which never varied, even in the least degree, in its fearful mo-

1 74 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

notony; no variation in the leaden-colored clouds above; sky
and earth were apparently of the same invariability of appear-
ance.

Then came the memory of former days, when I had lived
in pleasant lands, surrounded by beautiful and varied forms.
Images of those I had known and met came back to me then,
with startling clearness and vividness. I saw them with an
intensity of life-like presentation that was truly startling, and
awoke many strange and regretful memories in my soul. You
may imagine how grateful I felt for this relief — here the old
world, with its teeming activities and broad and varied inter-
ests, furnished me with food for thought and feeling. I Iwed
again my earth-life. I brought back from the dim recesses of
memory every thought and act of my former state; even the
most trivial and apparently unimportant act of my life was
vividly portrayed before me; and, oh! the remorse that took
hold of my soul when encountering the dark and base passions
which had in a great measure made up my earth-life. How I
groaned with agony as I contemplated the many acts of dis-
honor and calculating selfishness which I had perpetrated!
Who were those whom I had treated with such disdain and
heartless indifference, who had appealed with tears and en-
treaties for aid, or a stay of persecutions for that which the
world said was my due from them? They were my associates.
Kow plainly I saw all this. Then came brothers and sisters,
who, by the force of circumstances often beyond their control,
were unable to attain that degree of material resources which
had been my lot. How plainly I then saw that the man of
means is but a steward, whose duty it is to aid and comfort
those who need his assistance. How grossly I had misappre-
ciated and perverted the riches put into my hands for a noble
and just purpose.

My mind now became convinced that my condition and
surroundings were but a faithful reflection of the life I had led
on earth. Nothing had I accumulated of a spiritual or en-
during character. Utterly absorbed by the accumulation of
material means, I had first neglected and then forgotten my
duty, and consequent welfare. I had shut out completely the
sunshine of spiritual life. I had banished from my thoughts
all the kindly sympathies which should actuate human beings,
and had completely engrosse myself in the accumulation of

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 175

that wealth which proved my degradation, and, instead of en-
riching, had beggared me completely. Never, perhaps, was
there a human soul who felt so completely poverty-stricken as
I did, on that eternal stretch of meaningless, mocking sand,
with the persistent, icy bleakness of the clouds above my head,
and the utter absence of anything to fix my mind upon. My
garments were filthy and tattered; filthy with a kind of living,
mocking spiritual force of expression that is hard to convey in
earthly language. The sand and clouds spoke to me in a way
in which things in the material world do not speak to you; so
close and intimate,' so vivid and impressive, is the relationship
between the disembodied spirit and its surroundings. Although
we seem to see by the use of the senses, yet so great and so
complete is the impression made, that it is almost impossible
to shut out the meaning of the forms and surroundings present
with each spirit.

I say there is a subtleness of plasticity in the spirit and its
surroundings that is truly wonderful. If on the roadside you
meet with a flower, you cannot shut out the lesson it teaches;

I neither can you blind yourself to the idea that it w^as placed
there for your especial instruction and improvement. This
complete oneness and unity between spirits and their surround-
ings is a theme on which I love to dwell, and especially so, as
it has been the means of leading and guiding me into ways of
life conducive to my real happiness. You may realize, then,
how forcibly I felt my poverty, when this stretch of emptiness
spoke to me in such unmistakable terms. I had accumulated
I gold and silver, but, alas! I had come to a land where gold and
silver were not current — where only pure thoughts, generous
motives and high-souled ambitions were the currency that
procured the ways and means of happiness. The remorse I
suffered was even a kind of selfishness in itself, for man cannot
separate himself from the desire to be happy.

Remorse and regret were mixed in my state of mind; re-
morse for the unhappiness and misery I caused others; regret
that I had wasted the splendid opportunities of my life, and
engaged in that which, while the world calls it "splendid suc-
cess" and "prosperity," was in reality a burden and a curse!
When I had spent a long time, apparently, in retrospection, I
began to feel that there were in my soul, beneath the accumu-
lated heaps of material rubbish, fountains of sparkling water —

1 76 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

the means of producing copious showers of rain upon this dry
sand, which would eventually produce signs of life. Then I
felt myself growing humbled, and a willingness to accept advice
and sympathy. You may be sure that these were soon forth-
coming; a change seemed to take place immediately in my sur-
roundings; I beheld a slight moisture upon the earth, and soon
the appearance of vegetation in several varieties; a general
springlike warmth seemed to fill the air, and the icy, death-like
cold had ceased to be.

I now arose, and, moving toward a point which seemed to
attract me, I beheld two persons. They looked with apparent
interest and sympathy at me, and seemed to comprehend my
miserable condition, because spirits must outwardly appear as
they inwardly feel and think.

They reached forth their hands and said: "You have now
had ample time to look back upon and examine your past life.
You have the most vivid Consciousness of what these surround-
ings mean. You have suffered, but for a-purpose, and in strict
conformity with the eternal laws of life. Simply cause and
effect. Do you acknowledge the errors and mistakes of the
past?" Yes. "We know that you do! Experience and suffer-
ing have humbled you, and from your soul hath gone forth an
appeal for aid and sympathy; and we are sent to give you aid
and comfort, and to bear you company for a time, until you
are strong enough to stand alone. Do as your inward thoughts
and feelings at this moment prompt you!"

They seemed to see through me completely. Immediately
I yielded to the emotions that came thronging to my mind; and,
falling upon the earth, there came through my lips a recital
and confession of all the errors, crimes and mistakes of my life,
and an humble appeal for light, strength and support; for a
guiding hand to save me from my own inherent tendencies;
with a full acknowledgment of my dependence upon a supreme
ruling power, and the dependence of human beings upon each
other for aid and assistance. No merely verbal confession this,
but one made under the influence and illumination which lighted
up the past, and showed its fallacies and evil results; and then
also flashed upon my consciousness the true relation of man to
man. How humble I felt; how all my worldly wisdom and self-
esteem dwindled into contemptible insignificance! how my heart
throbbed under the impulse of its new life! What a peace and

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 177

restfulness; and how insensibly there stole upon my wearied
soul a deep, calm slumber!

I awakened fresh, and full of an ambitious desire to re-
model my life, and be about some labor that would be pro-
ductive of happiness to others. My condition and surround-
ings have changed completely. I was then in the midst of a
beautiful garden; delightful odors from flow^ers and trees, the
songs of gladsome birds, the subdued murmuring of a flow-
ery brook, seemed to fill me with fresh life and energy. My
lips opened, and there came forth a song, spontaneously ac-
knowledging my gratitude to that Divine power which had so
thoroughly convinced and overcome the blindness of my for-
mer life. I, one on whom songs and music had formerly no
pleasant effect, now seemed strangely filled with music and
songs, and pleasurable anticipations of life.

Then came the two who had met me in the desert, and
for whom I seemed to feel a great love and reverence, because
of the nobility and beauty that seemed to beam from their
forms; and they said: ''Already you feel the line of action
you are to pursue — tbe duties you owe." And I bowed my
head in acknowledgment, for I felt that I must again return to
the earthly sphere, and use my influence in restraining and
subduing that intemperate eagerness for mere external wealth
which had so completely closed to my consciousness the whis-
perings of spiritual life. I acted in conformity with this
prompting, and became active in strengthening those who had
already formed good resolves; who were trying to restrain the
inordinate passion for illegitimate speculation; fanning into
life the weak and nearly extinc^ embers of former noble pur-
poses and sentiments; whispering words of hope and cheer to
those who were struggling with adverse circumstances; help-
ing others to remove obstacles in the way of their spiritual
or intellectual progress; identifying myself with the promoters
of charitable undertakings; holding in restraint the violent
and maliciously inclined; impressing beautiful thoughts and
noble impulses upon the susceptible; and, in the quiet, peace-
ful night, rendering negative the silent sleeper; filling the
mind with beautiful dreams and hopeful anticipations.

You can readily see the vast field in which I labor — the
opportunity I have, the good I am enabled to do, the satisfac-
tion I feel, and the thanks I render to Almighty God for this

178 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

privilege. And yet it was not a privilege, for it is common to
all human beings.

What I have said is but a bare, and may be disconnected,
outline of my experience; yet you may infer from it what is
best for human beings. From it you may learn the lesson
that a lack of interest in the pecuniary affairs of others, a sel-
fish grasping for all within reach, and a subjection of the spir-
itual element in man's life to the grosser, and an absorbing
desire for material abundance — is a curse!

It is now my mission to help and encourage all with whom
I come in contact; to seize every opportunity to do a good act
or speak an encouraging word. This is both compulsory and
voluntary — a labor of love and a work of necessity. It is that
in which all spirits must engage in order to improve and ren-
der lasting and permanent their own growth and happiness.
Those who have lived on earth as I lived, without rendering
to the world the necessary amount of good which is incumbent
on every individual, must of necessity return and make good
this evil.

It is difficult to make clear my meaning now, and I have
already exhausted the time allotted me for making this com-
munication, and although it is brief and imperfect, I hope you
may be able to draw from it some lessons of usefulness.

Give me your spiritual support and encouragement, and
sometime you will realize the value of such interchanges,
though you may perceive it very dimly at present.

A SPECIAL VISIT TO THE SPIRIT-WORLD.

**The writer of the following narrative," says the editor of
\\\^ Banner of Light, *'is Mrs. M. J. Jefferson, of Chicago, 111.,
a lady well advanced in years, whose mediumistic gifts are, we
are informed, many and very fully developed. She has a widely
extended reputation as one to whom no destitute person applies
for relief, either material or spiritual, and leaves empty-handed.
She states that the time of her absence from the physical body,
as herein mentioned, was about one hour, and that in her
attempt to describe what she saw and heard, she finds human
language wholly inadequate to give other than a very feeble
conception."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 179

THE NARRATIVE.

On Thursday, January 5th, 1885, I was suddenly attacked
by an illness that caused faintness, during which I left my
earthly body, my controlling spirit taking possession of it, I at
the same time being fully conscious of all that was transpiring.
I ascended in a light, misty cloud until I reached an enclosure
surrounded on three sides by a wall. While I was wondering
how I could pass further, a large door was opened in front of
me by an attending spirit, who was magnificently dressed in a
long purple velvet cloak, trimmed with what appeared to be
white fur. His hair was also pure white, braided, and hung
down to the bottom of his cloak. The place occupied by this
spirit was tinged with the loveliest blue I ever saw, and pro-
fusely decorated with the most beautiful blue flowers, beyond
the power of earthly language to describe.

As I recovered from my surprise he turned to me and said:
"You are now going through the dark vale." Then came four
bright, beautiful spirits, all dressed in a pure white fleecy fab-
ric, each wearing a wreath of white flowers, and carrying in one
hand a large bouquet of the same. With the other hand each
held a corner of a square platform, slightly elevated from the
ground. This platform I can describe only as being composed
of most beautiful white satin, trimmed with deep white lace,
woven with and intermixed with silver thread, and flowers em-
broidered with silver tinsel. On this platform was a reclining
seat, made of soft white down. On this seat they placed me,
and said: "We will now carry you on to the next gate." As
they bore me along towards the gate, the surroundings became
more and more luminous, and when we arrived at the gate two
lovely-appearing and kind spirits in attendance opened it.

The attending spirits each held in one hand a wand, similar
in appearance to a shepherd's crook, so beautifully ornamented
with jewels of a variety of colors, and of such intense brilliancy
that my pen fails to describe the magnificence of the ornament-
ation. These spirits had dark hair and beards, and were attired
in loose white robes of a most delicately beautiful fabric heavily
trimmed with gold lace and jewels. They pointed to an arch
beyond the gate, composed of four hundred and three bright
and lovely spirits. One spirit on each side formed the foot of
the arch, and from the shoulders of these two went up two
hundred spirits on each side to a center spirit, who was stand-

i8o THE ENCYCLOPyEDJA OE DEATH

ing, holding a crown of Indescribable beauty. Upon seeing us
the arch marched three steps toward us, and all spoke as with
one voice: ''We have come to meet you, my sister, and welcome
you," at the same time presenting me with the crown! At this
moment groups of spirits came in from all sides, singing and
playing on various kinds of musical instruments, sweeter music
than I ever before listened to. I was completely overcome with
the grand and magnificent scene before me.

The names of the two spirits who formed the foot of the
grand arch were given: One was Thomas Porter, my first hus-
band, now in the Spirit-land. They each held in their outside
hand a lovely banner most beautifully decorated, upon each of
which was inscribed these words:

''You have done your noble work of charity secretly; but
you shall be rew^arded publicly."

When the singing and playing ceased a bright and beautiful
spirit approached me. She was most elegantly attired in an
exquisitely-fitting dress, the^:;magnificence of which I will not
undertake to describe, as all '"human language would fail me in
any attempt to do so. As she took my hand she said: "I am
Fannie Conant; I knew you not in earth-life, but now I know
your worth; come with me and I will show you your reward."
We walked side by side for a long distance, but from this start-
ing-point I cannot portray the scenes which were continually
being displayed on both sides — the indescribable scenes of
grandeur and beauty, the transformation scenes, of all imagina-
ble shapes and descriptions. The most beautiful of all were
two fountains in front of us, the drops of water from which, as
they fell, changed into diamonds and other precious stones,
upon which we walked. At the commencement of our walk
fountains of pure water were playing on both sides of us, form-
ing a double arch, at the apex of which the waters changed
into bright, transparent jewels, of all sizes and descriptions, of
indescribable brilliancy; and as they dropped but a short dis-
tance in front of us, they formed the path upon which we trod.

As we journeyed along, witnessing the numerous trans-
formation scenes, I recognized the familiar faces of many near
and dear friends who had gone to the happy land before, all ||

dressed in gay costumes of exquisite taste. As we journeyed
along and neared the end of our walk, the surroundings l)ecame
.brighter and brighter, until too dazzling for me to look upon.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. i8i

As she noticed this my companion, Fannie, remarked that once
these scenes were too bright and dazzling for her to behold,
but she had become accustomed to them. She then waved her
hands to the right and to the left, and directed my attention to
the beautiful transformation scenes displayed on all sides, each
one more beautiful than the former, and all the surroundings
beautifully festooned and decorated with rich, thin, almost
transparent fabrics of all bright colors. She then said: ''These
scenes and what are soon to follow are your rewards." At this
point, it being the end of our walk, a beautifully-modeled boat
appeared, with sixteen bright and handsomel5^-uniformed spirits.
Fannie said: ''They will testify that these beautiful scenes are
your rewards, and they will conduct you back to earth; tell our
beloved Ba7rner of Light what you have seen. " Then she shook
hands with me, bade me good-by, and vanished from my sight.

At this moment, and before the form of Fannie had en-
tirely disappeared, there came in her place a spirit of angelic
beauty, who spoke, and said she would aid in conducting me
to earth. After seating me in the beautiful boat, which seemed
to have been made of silver and trimmed with gold, it moved
off as if propelled by an invisible magic power, without any
apparent effort of its occupants. It floated along smoothly and
easily over the pure crystal waters of a beautiful river, lined on
each side with the loveliest foliage, upon the branches of which
were suspended creeping vines, profusely loaded with the most
beautiful flowers, that sent out an exquisite perfume which no
language can describe. The air was filled with the music (both
instrumental and vocal) of unseen spirits, cftid of all kinds of
birds of beautiful plumage. Soon the boat stopped, and my
spirit-guide said: "Now you must return to earth." I said I
did not know the way. She replied, "I will show you," and
as she waved her wand, and pointed downward, I saw a misty
cloud opening to the right and left, and soon I beheld my
material body.

It was not a pleasant scene for me. I did not wish to re-
turn. The spirit took me by the hand and said: " Your mission
on earth will soon be at an end, and then you will return and
dwell with us forever." Then she invoked a blessing upon me
and vanished from my sight.

I then took possession of my body again, and I have been
better since, my health being much improved by this pleasant

1 82 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

visit to the Spirit-land. I have been taken to the Spirit-world
several times before this, but have never before seen so many
of its beauties as were exhibited to me on this occasion. The
Spirit-world to me is a reality.

FRAGRANCE AT A CHILD'S DEATH'BED.

*It is said that some flowers give forth their sweetest fra-
grance in death. I should like to tell you of a sweet little
human flower, about whose passing away there was a circum-
stance that struck me at the time as very strange .

Nellie was the daughter of a dear friend of mine in Rus-
sia, and at the time she left us was five years and a half old.
I had been present at her birth, and during her brief earth-life
she had scarcely ever quitted me. She was a very delicate
child, with a mind and affections far beyond her years, and to-
wards her mother and myself she manifested such earnest
thought, and deep love, as is rarely if ever met with in one so
young.

In the autumn of iSy^^he took cold, and her health be-
gan to be seriously affected, %ut although the little body was
often sick and weary, tne spirit seemed more active than ever;
and she daily grew more thoughtful for others, and (if possi-
ble) more loving to us.

As is the custom at Christmas-tide in Russia we had a
tree for the little ones, and our dear child was present. She
came to me when she had received her gifts, and startled me
by saying: *'Auntie, dear, this is the last Christmas tree."
I replied; **You mean it is the last till next year, dear.'^
*'No, auntie," sh^ answered, with her lovely, earnest eyes
fixed on mine — **no, it is the last. " In a few days she was
too unwell to rise from her bed, and I carried her to my own,
which made her very happy. The best medical advice was
given, but nothing could be done for dear Nellie, and in two
weeks from the time I had lain her on my bed, God took her
to himself.

I cannot write about that sad time, for she suffered very
much indeed, and we never left her side. Before she became
unconscious (the day before she passed out), she assured us
of her love, and said such sweet and touching things that her
poor mother had to leave 'the room more than once to hide her

*Vaira, in Medium aucl Daybreak, London, Eng.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 183

grief from the searching eyes of her child. After man}^ hours
of agony the change came, and our darhng lay transfigured,
at rest. The bells were ringing for the commencement of the
Sabbath; for the sun was setting; it was four o'clock on Sat-
urday, January i8th, 1875. Bowed down with grief as we
were, it was only after some moments that I remarked the
peculiar odor of incense that filled the room, and which
seemed to rise from the bed where the little one was lying. I
stooped over her and kissed her face and hands; both seemed
impregnated with the same peculiar fragrance, and the air be-
came heavy with the perfume of spices. It resembled the in-
cense used in the Greek Church, which has, I think, a more
pungent character than that usually employed in Roman
Catholic services; but there was something still more aromatic
and delicate in the smell. The woman who came to assist me
in my sad offices perceived it; the elder children who came to
sit by the little marble form also remarked it; and as far as I
can recollect the odor remained in the room for two or three
hours.

When the Doctor came next morning I mentioned the fact
to him, asking if there could be any natural cause for the
strange odor. He assured me there was none, and seemed
very surprised and interested in my account of it. I knew too
little of Spiritualism then to ascribe it to its true cause, which
was doubtless the presence of celestial angels of the highest
order. *'You may call me angel, now," said Nellie, on the
Thursday before she left us, in reply to her mother's caressing
appellation. And surely if love be the law of heaven, she was
made perfect in that law, even while her spirit was held in
captivity.

So our sweet flower faded from earth, but the remem-
brance of her pretty, loving ways and words lingers around
our hearts, making sweet incense; for we know that our dar-
ling is blossoming into perfect beauty in the bright garden of
our Lord in the fair Summer-land; and the tiny hands still
clasp our own, drawing us upwards, the pure eyes still look
lovingly into ours, and the voice no longer faltering, nor faint
from weakness, speaks in angelic whispers, telling of the
time when we shall once more behold the little one we love so
well — not as child, but a fair maiden; not the bud, but the
flower. So be it, Nellie, the child! the sweet spirit!

1 84 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

^ flessa^e Fronv iKe Hi<^Ker Life.

THE VARIED EXPERIENCES OF A HUMANITARIAN SPIRIT.

MYSTERIOUS WORKINGS OF THE SPIRIT-WORLD HOW HUMAN DES-
TINY IS DIRECTED AND, CONTROLLED THE GRANDEUR OF

woman's mission THE ■ DIVINE DEVELOPING CIRCLE AN-
GELIC MAGNETISM — -INFLUENCES EXERTED ON THE EMBRYONIC

CHILD THE SPlRIT^S MESSAGE HIS APPARENT DEATH AND

REVIVAL HIS VARIED V^SENSATIO^S WHILE DYING HIS EN-
TRANCE TO SPIRIT-L1FE|^'-A GL0Ri6uS REUNION.

*There is life^ permeating every nook and corner of the
universe, vitalizinj^,, each atom of matter, and unfolding into
definite forms the' millions of objects that greet the vision from
time to time. The human organism, composed of oxygen,
hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, calcium, sulphur,
fluorine, chlorine, sodium, iron, potassium, etc., is worthy of
your careful consideration. True it is, that the eyes, brilliant
with emotion, and lustrous with tndwelling genius, and the
body all aglow with the impetuosity of a soul that realizes it
is capable of almost infinite possibilities, are only composed
of substances that can be easily enumerated. When molded
into a dress for the human soul they form a fabric which is of
a finer and more delicate texture than the art of man has yet
invented, possessing within itself divine beauties that no one
would willingly dispense with. Human life on this terrestrial
sphere commences in a minute cell, and although at that
time each one is unconscious of existence, yet then, even, the
future man or woman is foreshadowed. My career, event-

*The accompanying narrative, purporting to come from a Humanitarian who lived on
the earth centuries ago, is given on account of ihe exalted chiirr.eter of the lesson,s presented
There are some repetitions, but they seem to render the narrative more touching and Im
I)res.sive, hence are published in full.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 185

ful in many respects, I will trace from the first existence of
my embryonic life, as told to me, in the receptacle of a human
soul, the womb of my mother! Oh! what a grand mission the
mother has! Words are inadequate to express the divine
grandeur of the station which she is called upon to occupy!

The philosopher who gazes among the stellar orbs — wit-
nesses the pulsation of moving, throbbing worlds, and then
with the hand of science points out the course of each^ — has
his soul illuminated with magnificent thoughts. By compre-
hending the intricate laws of the star-dust of the firmament,
he is enabled thereby to write his name high on the pinnacle
of fame, and gain access to the secret realms of nature. Kis
mission is noble indeed! The mechanic who constructs the
engine that moves the majestic 'ocean steamer, and which
obeys the mandate of ,^ skillful engineer, is Ivm^hy of having
his name written or^ imperishable parchmenv iigi letters of
gold! The man W'bb presides over the di^^tiny of a nation,
who superintends the coTiiplicated routine of governi^ient, and
sacrifices self in his 6esi«r^,' for the welfare of the people, and
the general who br^ye|y drives back 1 invading horde of sav-
ages, are worthy of grd'at praise. i> - h^ir mission, grand as it
is, sinks into ijcisi§^nJfi,pa;Bce by th^L: > sicfeNpf <^that woman who
materializes with her' i^wri divine developing cirt^e (the womb)
a human organism^ |he puter dress of a spark of divinity!
Her work is angelic-^God-like — towering in its grandeur, and
her name should be« engraved on the ever-enduring pages of
history, while diamonds should shed their lustre thereon as
long as time endures. The mission of the true child-bearing
woman, who develops within the. holy precincts of her own
womb a human organization, which encloses an immortal germ
that will ever live on the throbbing waves of time, is truly the
highest, the noblest of all! There she sits! the glorious work
going on while she is awake, still progressing when her soul is
illuminated with a torch divine in the hand of an angel, though
her body is calmly sleeping; yes, continuing to weave the
web of life while her senses are locked in sweet repose, her
spirit-form rambling in dream-land, among the rainbow-tinted
flowers and ever green lawns!

What a glorious spectacle, a true and noble woman
sweetly sleeping, while the jew^el of her nature, a cherub
child, is nestling within the holy of holies, the divine sanct

1 86 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

nary of creative energies! Blessed mother, the sacred citadel
of an immortal soul exists within you! Harken! An angel
band approaches the couch of the sleeping mother, and forms
a circle around her prostrate body. With tender, beatific emo-
tions, they baptize her soul with the very essence of their
heaven-born magnetism, and place eti rapport with her mind
an enchanting picture which had been, for this especial pur-
pose, delineated on spirit-canvas, and which represents a beau-
tiful landscape in the Summer-land! That picture seems to
animate and inspire her spiritual nature! Soon she murmurs:
^'Oh! what a magnificent scene!" and a smile of ecstatic
pleasure illuminates her features, and then her soul awakens
in Dream-land, to realize the grandeur of that spiritual pre-
sentation! But a grander object is in view than to merely af-
ford her temporary pleasure. Her soul's pulsations touch the
interior embryonic germ she is carrying, and impress upon its
plastic nature a love of the grand and beautiful. Then the
members of this spirit-circle sing, and the sleeping mother
dreams of heaven-enchanting music, and while she is animated
with pleasurable emotions, her embryonic germ is indelibly
impressed with a tast^.fci^ the sweet melodies of song. This
vision is too grand for tongue to describe; word-pictures are
inadequate for the task. These angelic messengers love that
mother, and they see that soul nestling like a fairy queen in
her interior ^'developing-circle," and they come to imprint on
its plastic nature high and exalted aspirations, and their ob-
ject is accomplished.

Blessed be that mother, calmly, sweetly suspended on the
silvery cord of sleep, midway between the terrestrial and celes-
tial spheres, and while angelic messengers breathe upon her
the holy incense of their souls, and she is borne upward on
the sublime emotions thus inspired, to those spheres that
never have been sullied with impure thoughts; and while en-
joying herself in this fairy Dream-land castle, her nature re-
ceives impulse after impulse of the divine harmony that reigns
there, and the potent waves thus produced touch that interior
soul, and prepare it for a brilliant life! And, at another time,
a spirit bends over the sleeping couch and places her sweet
lips to those of that mother, and breathes into her nature the
very essence of love, and again she is transported to Dream-
land, while her soul-chords vibrate in sweet unison with the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 187

angels, and once more that little fairy she is carrying feels a
divine baptism, and its body, mind and spirit are beautifully
rounded out thereby. Each night for a few weeks, this group
of angelic visitors assemble around the couch of that mother,
and shower down upon her their heaven-exalted magnetism —
a divine incense that sparkles with diamond-like brilliancy,
and which falls upon her plastic nature like sweet dew upon a
flower. While her senses are locked in sweet repose, they act
upon them with the skill of masters. One evening they con-
duct her through green lawns and flower-blooming arbors,
presenting to her enraptured vision the picturesque scenes of
a garden in the spiritual universe. They place upon her head
a bouquet of different-colored blossoms; they ornament her
person with flowers that seem to send a smile through their
richly-laden hues. Her vision has a feast of rare spiritual
treasures, and every impulse of gladness that sparkles on her
features sends its counterpart to the embryonic germ within
the sacred sanctuary of her physical body.

Through the instrumentality-tof my pre-natal culture, I was
harmoniously organized, benevolence and a love of the beautiful
being the predominating traits of mycaracter. Knowing that
I would fall heir to a large estate, the spirit^circle surrounding
my mother fully developed that faculty regarded by phrenolo-
gists as Benevolence, and, in spite of m3^self,''I was constantly
engaged in spending my income in relieving the wants of the
unfortunate. My greatest pleasures consisted in relieving the
sorrows of those in distress, or in reforming the outcast. I
illuminated the dark places, encouraged the despondent, cheered
the unfortunate, clothed the naked, furnished homes for orphans
and carefully attended to sick paupers — in fact, my life was
continually employed in dispensing charity.

Since my advent into spirit-life, I have learned that I was,
although not then aware of the fact, a mere instrument in the
hands of those angels who assisted in my pre-natal unfoldment.
My brain, while in its embryonic state, being completely sat-
urated with their magnetism, I was subject, while on earth, to
their especial influence; was a medium for them alone. During
my earth-life, I was simply distinguished as a kind-hearted
man, whose philanthropic impulses lined his pathway with
monuments of his benevolence.

As my mother was, during the impressible period of my

i88 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

pre-natal growth, enveloped in a halo of spiritual magnetism,
an emanation from an angelic band of philanthropic spirits, 1
was developed by two influences, receiving nutriment, not only
from my mother — noble, pure woman — but from the organism
of those high in spirit life. Indeed, I was, during my em-
bryonic life, highly favored, bathed at times in a cloud of
spiritual light, and at the same time animated by the pulsating
thrills impressed upon my mother's mind. I was, then, not
only unfolded through the instrumentality of material elements,
but the invigorating aura or magnetism of angelic visitants in-
filtrated my whole nature, making me highly spiritual! I was
simply a medium for those who had furnished their fine, spiritucil
forces in perfecting my physical and spiritual natures. Having
assisted in my pre-natal growth, my spiritual organism was
attuned in harmony with their own, and they could easil} place
themselve en rapp?7't with me.

My life, then, was a double one, consisting of my own and
that of philanthropic spirits. Their thoughts thrilled my whole
being, animated me with high and holy resolves, and induced
me to smooth the rouf^h and rugged places in the life of the
unfortunate. My organism was not my own exclusively. Twelve
immortal souls had contributed their pure, sparkling magnetism
in the formation of my physical and spiritual natures, while I
had furnished nothing! True, my darling mother contributed
the gross material, but they refined, purified and blessed it, and
attuned it in harmony with their own exalted natures, making
me an integral part of themselves. I realized their exalted
pleasures, felt their pangs of sorrow as they gazed on the un-
fortunate ones of earth, and when en rapport with me, I, in part,
represented them, and not myself exclusively. They had par-
tial ownership, as it were, of me and feelings of ecstatic love
constantly blooming in their nature for all humanity, their
wishes quietly took possession of my mind, and dwelt there, I
thinking that I originated them. The gardener loves the flower
that scintillates with various colors, for he had fed it with rich
soil; gave it a daity baptism of pure, invigorating water, and
guarded it with scrupulous tenderness. How much more careful
Were my angel band of me, whom they had caused to unfold
with spiritual beauties, and the chords of whose nature were
in harmony with their own ! Whenever a sympathetic impulse
in their mind was touched, the tender thrills thereof were wafted

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 189

to me, and I sensed them, felt aver}^ intense feeling of sorrow.

Why should I claim an exclusive individuality? I con-
tributed nothing toward my ph3^sical and spiritual formation,
and why should I exclusively own myself? True, I thought I
acted from my own promptings alone; that I alone was instru-
mental in accomplishing so much good, while, in fact, I was
simply acted upon by my angelic band. My life and theirs
interblended, I representing only one-thirteenth of the circle,
and that the weakest link in it. Indeed, having been developed
in the halo of their magnetism, I required daily nourishment
therefrom, and had it been withdrawn I could not have survived
a week. My fine spiritual nature, formed to a great extent
from them and by them, could not extract the nourishment
required for it from material objects altogether, hence I was
simply a pulsating wave of life, an offshoot, as it were, of a
divine circle of light, and as such I was constantly subject to
a power higher than myself.

I was ushered into the world, finely balanced, exquisitely
attuned in spirit, and thoroughly adapted in every particular
to illuminate dark places on earth. -My life was to others a
continual smile and benediction. I had wealth, and I carefully
dispensed it where it would do great good. My life was char-
acterized by one continual shower of philanthropic measures
for alleviating the hardships of the poor, and for reclaiming
the dovv^nfallen. I blamed no one! I chided none! Smiling
encouragingly upon those whom misfortune had overtaken,
lending those aid that required no absolute gift, and affording
shelter, clothing and food for outcasts, in the hour of their ex-
treme need, my life became brilliant with the noble promptings
that nerved me to perform the work.

As I look back on my earthly career, I see nothing to re-
gret, only that I was not more effective in philanthropic labors.
My mother, God-like in impulses, lived to see me reach the
stature of man, and never did she utter a cross or unkind word
to me. She was the embodiment of all womanly virtues, and
she passed away, serene and happy, leaving her good works
behind to testify in her behalf.

After my mother's spirit had taken its flight to the region of
celestial love, where she could drink from spiritual founts, be
fanned by soft, genial breezes laden with the aroma of flowers,
and feast her vision on scenes of exquisite loveliness, my life

igo THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

seemed, if possible, to expand with still more exalted emotions,
and higher and nobler purposes. I now readily comprehended
why this was so, for she came closely en rapport with me at
times, and I not only felt throbbing within my soul my own
aspirations to do good, but they were intensified by the pres-
ence of her spiritual nature. This is one phase of inspiration,
and high and holy it is, too. Inspiration, like a flood of soft,
silvery light, flowed in upon my soul, illuminating it only with
a desire to alleviate the sufferings of humanity. Others, I found,
were inspired to give utterance to thoughts, grand and beautiful;
to produce poetry, laden with the sweetness of the higher life,
or to present a scientific truth that would cause a thought to
encircle the world, and breathe its potent influence on every
clime as it passed along.

My inspiration was emotional — of a deep affectional nature,
that made my love exalted. I not only loved the erring, the
unfortunate, those who were steeped in crime, with my own
love, but in connection therewith was the love of an angel
mother, and also that possessed by the twelve spirits engaged
in my pre-natal develop cient. My love, then, for earth's suffer-
ing children, was a mixture of the human and divine, and little
did they realise that in my company, when I approached them,
were those who had long been in Spirit-life. This, then, is the
character of inspiration. It is not confined to the orator, whose
brilliant sentiments burn and scintillate in darkened minds; nor
to the author, whose pen emits a light from the torches of
angels; nor to the inventor, who gives to earth's children a
counterpart of a machine brought to light by exalted spirits;
but it is manifested in the life of the philanthropist also, and
in consequence thereof his presence among the sorrowing and
disconsolate imparts a shower of blessings.

Since my arrival, in Spirit-life, I have learned that inspira-
tion, in order to be effective, is generally confined to one chan-
nel or set of faculties. The inventor is never an orator. He
who is distinguished as a warrior is rarely successful as a
writer of books. My inspiration was confined to the emotions.
I had great wealth, and the spirits realizing that fact, were
determined I should dispense it in doing good. I was not
ingenious; nor was I gifted with eloquence. My inspiration led
me to do good, not on a large scale, such as founding magnifi-
cent institutions of learning, or infirmaries for those demandin;^

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 191

medical treatment, but to assist those in trouble, so far as pos-
sible, and enable them to become self-sustaining.

In Spirit-life there is no recognized guardianship by exalted
spirits over different individuals, and outside influence is rarely
if ever, sought. I readily see now why such is the case. Twelve
spirits, besides that of my mother, assisted in my embryonic
development. I was their production — an unfoldment of their
power. This fact entitled them to a recognized ownership in
me; but as that w^ill sound harshly to some, I will qualify it by
saying exclusive guardianship! Inventors are sometimes also
brought forth on the material side of life, with the same scien-
tific and scrupulous care that I was. The guardianship of such
minds rests entirely with the scientific circle, who assisted in
their pre-natal growth, and spirits of different tastes have no
inclination or right to interfere with their work.

After I had lived on earth until eighty 5.'ears of age, I be-
came extremely feeble, and was confined to- my bed. I realized
the fact that my earthly career was nearly ended. The fires of
life burned but dimly, as I lay helpless .©n my bed. The con-
sciousness of having devoted my time to ameliorating the con-
dition of others, threw a sweet and hallowed serenity over my
soul, and the tide of life sweetly ebbed away.

Realizing the fact that my deeds of charity had germinated,
producing a good crop, I seemed in my weak, declining con-
dition, to be in a magnificent temple, where those my philan-
thropic measures had benefited were singing my praise. In
this dreamy, half-conscious existence, I seemed to live my life
over again. From every deed of benevolence that I had done
there appeared to spring forth a sweet-tinted flower, from which
the smiling faces of those I had made happy peered forth. In
one, I recognized an old man, a cripple, whom I assisted to
employment, and had given him a little aid otherwise, and such
encouragement and advice as he seemed to require. Around
him were little cherub children, neatly clad, while by his side
stood his devoted wife. '*Why," said I, "I never assisted
your children or wife; you were single then."

"True," said he, " but this happiness is the result of your
kind assistance, and we all thank and bless you. You are now
on the pathway that leads to Spirit-life, and we come to return
to you our heartfelt thanks and to cheer you on your way."

Ttien a little girl approached, whose mother I had aided

192 THE ENCYCL OP^EDIA OF DBA TH

and made comfortable through life, and placed around ni}^ neck
a beautiful garland of roses, in honor of that event. I seemed
to live in a world of fairies, where I was the center of attraction.
On all sides I saw the fruits of ni}^ labor assuming a thousand
attractive forms. Oh ! what cheer in the thought of a life well
spent, and that you have done something to alleviate the sor-
rows of others.

Around me, in my dream-land state, I saw magnificent
fields glistening with beauties that no pen could describe — no
artist's pencil picture. <^ There," says an angel voice, " is a
harvest; it is yours. A life well spent yields in return a rich
legacy, that animates its owner with great joy. You are now
on the glorious pathway to Spirit-life. "

During my dying moments I was impressed with this
grand truth: "That which you sow, you shall also reap."
1 have since learned that good deeds or acts for the amelio-
ration of the destitute and the advancement of humanity in the
scale of morality, intelligence and happiness, generate an in-
fluence that refines ^k^ spirit, and prepares it for an exalted
position in the Spirit-world.

At one time during my last sickness, I stopped breathing,
my pulse ceasec^ to beat, the heart to throb, and a death-like
pallor pervaded my features. I heard the physician pro-
nounce me dead, and give certain directions in reference to
my interment. I heard the piteous moans of relatives and
friends, and the pathetic words of regret they expressed. Oh I
what sensations I then experienced! I was conscious of pass-
ing events. I knew when my body was removed from the bed
on which I was lying, felt the parting kiss of those around
mc, and realized fully that they were preparing for m}^ burial.

"Am I to be buried alive?" thought I; "be a living wit-
ness of my own obsequies, and finally pass out of the body
imattended, in the cold, damp ground?" I did not like this
idea, and censequently exerted myself to break the unaccount-
able spell. I could not only see my attendants, but friends
who had long since passed to Spirit-life. The latter held a
consultation in regard to my resuscitation. Some seemed in
favor of severing the spirit from the mortal body at once, but
a spirit-physician present convinced them that circumstances
required that I should live a little longer. I then saw them
form a circle around my body, and concentrating on me a

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. ' 193

powerful influence, they gradually brought me back to earth-
life again.

Oh! what a commotion it created when it was announced
that I was alive; and when I told those present the means em-
ployed to reanimate my body, they seemed bewildered, and
said: *'It is a dream." After this incident, I seemed to swing
alternately from earth to Spirit-life, and the scenes I witnessed
were surpassingly grand.

When I would revive from a death-like stupor, and feebly
whisper w^hat I had seen, my attending physician would say:
"He is delirious!" Some of the scenes I witnessed were
real; others, mere psychological effects, intended to convey
an important lesson. For nearly three weeks I was d3ang —
my life slowly but surely ebbing away — and during that time
my experience was of the most interesting character.

In the final transit of my spirit, or in its separation from
the body, I felt no pain whatever.. The vital forces were then
too weak to illuminate, my eyes or give an animated expres-
sion to my features. My tongue could only give^i utterance to
the lowest whisper, and my pulse could scarcely be felt. I
was for several days too weak to lift my hand to jny head, yet
I was cognizant of the slightest sound, and could hear every
movement that took j5l ace in my large house. At times I could
see distinctly with m^gyes closed, and during these cerebral
illuminations, I behelj beautiful edifices, surpassing in loveli-
ness and grandeur anything I had ever before observed,
surrounded with flower-bearing lawns and arbors, bubbling
springs, and fountains whose jets of spray sparkled with rain-
bow-tinted hues, imparting a brilliant tinge to everything that
was near. I saw, in connection with these surroundings, an-
gelic creatures, whose features manifested the most exalted
happiness. Some were reading, some were rearranging the
lawns and flower-beds, while others were gazing at distant
planets through a curiously-constructed telescope. At times,
too, when my sight was closed, and darkness enveloped me,
I heard music from a spirit-choir. It was so melodious, so
tenderly sweet in its thrilling influence, that my whole being
seemed borne aloft as the expiring notes vanished in the dis-
tance.

I lived in neither world long at a time. I realized the fact
that I was dying, that the vital forces could not much longer

1 94 THE ENC YCL OP.E DIA OF BE A TH

retain my spirit, but I regarded my strange experiences as the
result of delirium. I did not for a moment realize the truth
of spirit-communion. True, I talked with my angel-mother,
saw an angel-choir, heard the spirit-physician give directions
concerning me, and noticed many scenes in the interior world,
but when I awoke on the material side of life, they seemed
like the result of a dream. As I approached the gateway of
death, my mind appeared to grow more active — to be quick-
ened in all its faculties, and had I then possessed the physical
power, I could have startled the world with my eloquence.
Not an event in my entire existence that I did not think of;
not even a trivial business transaction that did not startle me
with its presence. Apparently, I had the power to move
mountains, to. alleviate the sorrows of the world, and erect
magnificent reformatory institutioiis^ but when I endeavored
to move my physical organization, ,:i(^he thought would flash
upon me. that*! vyas (dying. »

Regally, this;, transit from earth to ^pirit-life, thought I, is
very inifq^stiitg, and|fe^>vondered at the. extreme ignorance of
mortals XrC. reference to i ,. -^At first I qould not understand the
unusual actt^i-ty of my mind, nor comprehend the nature of
the glorious passage to tlie higftir spheres,. Of course, those
who are dying never stop to philosojSiiz^. . Had they the
power to imp^artUn WTiting the scenes ^||t gr^et them, and the
varied sensations ' they ^iexperience^4he.lB-nfbrmation furnished
would be valuabl6^and interesting.. .'•. .

Standing on the material side of life, held there by an
iron hand, the spirit is still subservient to matter, and the or-
gans of the physical body are its means of communication
with the outer world. My vital forces seemed to fluctuate like
a gas jet whose supply is irregular, flashing up now, and then
almost disappearing; or to oscillate like the pendulum of a
clock between the confines of the two realms, each swing they
made growing shorter, until the transit of the spirit was ef-
fected.

I have only detailed what I saw, but my feelings were
equally interesting. At first my feet lost all sensation, and I
could not stir them in the least. They seemed to weigh a ton.
This feeling was very disagreeable, and, for a time, I thought
if they were amputated, that I could move my body, but, of
course, I could not. I then realized the fact that I could li\e

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 195

only a few hours, and I anxiously awaited the change. The
dead weight attached to the lower portion of my system
seemed to gradually increase. My hands then settled down
by my side a lifeless mass, apparently of great weight. Grad-
ually the vital forces of my limbs expired. My heart still beat
feebly, but I could not stir my body, the weight of my limbs
paralyzing all my efforts. My eyes were transfixed in my
head, and not a whisper could I give, nor a glance of recogni-
tion to my attendant relatives and friends. Gradually, then, I
lost my consciousness, seeming to glide into a quiet slumber.
A chasm then occurred, that my niemory cannot bridge. Oh!
I have often wished that I might have remained conscious dur-
ing the entire transit of my spirit, in order to give the world
the benefit of m}^ experience. But such was not the case.
Until that period, the unconscious state, the only disagreeable
feelings I experienced arose from the seeming weight of my
extremities, which conveyed an ide^ ^9 my mind that they had
increased to enormous dimensions and weight. The loss of
power to move my limbs was follov/ed by^that unpleasant sen-
sation. No pain preceded the extinction of life in my body.
The life of the vital forces appeared to vanish as easily as the
evening twilight that gives a tinge of. beauty to the departing
day. Light faded from my vision, and an intense darkness
enveloped me. This darkness impressed ine with a vague
fear, for I could not detect the least sound. I was simply con-
scious of my life, but the world to me was merely a desert,
without light, sound, or objects of any kind. This condition
— no power to move, see, hear or feel — did not last long.
This state wherein the mind is simply conscious of its own
existence, and nothing else, is very unpleasant, and conveys
the idea that the whole being is vanishing — losing its identity.
While I realized the fact that I was dying, I seemed to be
fading out of existence entirely. The loss of feeling, sight.
Hearing, and the power to move, impressed me with that
thought. The last sensation I remember, I felt as if strug-
gling to retain my life on earth, resulting in a confused state
of mind, which gradually terminated in my losing all con-
sciousness of self and the outer world. This occurred when
I was on the outer verge of the material world, — which
seemed to connect with the spirit-realms. There is where ^
the two extremes partially blend, as nearly as I can realize.

196 THE- ENCYCLOPAEDIA OE DEATH

I remained in this unconscious state for several hours, af-
ter which I had dehglitfui dreams, which were impressed
upon my mind by my devoted mother. My spirit-body had
been laid on a couch in an arbor adjoining my mother's stately
residence. I was surrounded b}^ m}^ mother, my wife and two
children, and other relatives and friends, and their combined
influence was soothing and invigorating. The sleep of the
new-born spirit strengthens it, allows it to assimilate elements
needed to give it more force. Under the influence of warm-
hearted relatives and friends, I enjoyed the most perfect re-
pose.

After lying in this condition for several hours, my darling
mother aroused me from my deep lethargy by impressing on
my mind scenes in Spirit-life, which she wished me to see.
Her thoughts, directed towards my mind with deep, fervent
affection, awakened it to conscious action, while my spiritual
body or organism was still reposing in the arms of sleep. Her
thoughts seemed to come in contact with my mind, illuminat-
ing the same as a lamp does a dark room. First, she im-
pressed upon it the fact that my two children, whom I had not
yet been permitted to see, were present. I seemed to absorb
her thoughts, to indulge in her fancies, to see the scenes which
she saw, and the effect on my mind was to stimulate it, and
gradually prepare it for awakening among the celestial glories.

It is not always well to suddenly awaken the new-born
spirit amid the scenes of transcendent beauty in the higher
spheres, without first taking it through preparatory stages.

For several hours my mother, wife and children stood by
my side, and directed my thoughts in Dream-land. At one
moment I was playing with my little boy, Eddie, viewing his
pets and playthings; then plucking flowers with Lulu, then
holding sweet converse with my devoted wife, then sailing on
some river, over whose sides flowers cast their fragrance and
smiled upon me beneath their rainbow-tinted hues.

Oh! those dreams were delightful; yet there was a deep
reality in what I saw and heard. I now fully realize the im-
portance of those dream-visions. They gradually illuminated
the mind with the scenes of Spirit-life, and the impressions
made thereon had a very beneficial effect. What a feast it was
for me to ramble in Dream-land with my darling wife, and my
little children, Eddie and Lulu.

AAV LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 197

I was finally awakened amid the transcendent beauties of
the Spirit-world, surrounded by my friends, while near by stood
a choir of little children, who sang a sweet song of welcome.
The scene was grand indeed. My senses were dazzled, as it
were, by the grandeur manifested on all sides. I had traveled,
as it were, the pathway that leads from earth to Spirit-life, and
had arrived at my journey's end.

I found on awakening, and after I had fully realized the
character of my external surroundings, that I would now have
an opportunity to reap the reward that ever follows in the foot-
steps of noble deeds. My wife, children and mother, they vv^ith
whom I had held sweet converse in Dream-land, were the first
to welcome me to my new home. Oh! little Eddie and Lulu,
my angel pets, whose smiles and presence I enjoyed but for a
short time on earth, seemed to overflow with gladness, and in
their exuberance of feeling they bestowed on me their innocent
love and caresses, and told me of their pets, their play castle,
their little arbors, their flowers, their books, schools and teach-
ers, until they were called away for a time by those who had
them in special charge.

In one sense, on earth I was only a machine; yet I was free
to act, though many of my benevolent bequests were the direct
result of spirit promptings. I could not resist the influence of
any member of my spirit-band. Their thoughts could be made
my thoughts; their desires, my desires. The greeting of this
guardian band was warm indeed. Each one addressed me in
endearing terms, and referred to some special work on earth
which he alone had inspired me to do, and which had borne
abundant fruits.

''Your life," said one, "has been a continual summer,
productive of grand results."

"Your life," said another, "has been a continual autumn,
ever bearing ripe fruits, and ever dispensing to the poor."

^' Your life," said a third, "has been a continual winter,
whefeln your garnered stores have ever been open to those who
required assistance from your hand."

"Your life," said a fourth, "has been a continual spring,
constantly sowing and preparing for a grand harvest, which
you will now reap."

"Your life," said the fifth, "has been like a sparkling
fountain, where the weary come to quench their thirst."

igb THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

Thus each one approached me in succession, and compared
the various incidents of my hfe to something in the material
world, giving me thereby words of cheer and encouragement.

Then this noble band of philanthropists retired for a time,
and I went forth in company with my wife, walked in the
flower-adorned lawns, sailed on the crystal waters, reposed in
the green arbor, or stood by a fountain whose jets of spray
were tinted with all the hues of the rainbow.

The cup of my happiness was indeed full. I had a taste
of heaven then. True, the streets were not paved with gold,
I did not see Jesus. I did not behold God, nor his winged
angels. I saw no one thrumming harps or singing psalms
around a throne. Everything was natural. The spirits around
me had once lived on earth. None of them had ever seen the
God the various churches worship. No one could find a hell
burning with fire and brimstone, where wretched creatures
could be punished forever. They had seen desolate places,
sterile and barren, destitute of all vegetation, to which certain
disreputable characters gravitated when the change called
death occurred. They said that abode was wretched beyond
the power of tongues to describe, but the spirits there were
gradually emerging from their deplorable state and advancing
to higher planes of life.

I now fully realize the benefits derived from leading a life
on earth devoted to the best interests of humanity. Self is
only a minute, integral part of a vast ocean of individualized
lives, and he who lives for himself exclusively gradually isolates
himself by natural repulsion from all others; his selfishness
repels everything that is beautiful.

The air you breathe is imbued with a philanthropic spirit;
the water you drink is the very embodiment of benevolence;
the beautiful flowers send forth their perfumes on the wings of
the winds, to be inhaled by all; in fact, the material world is
impartial in its bestowments. Nature smiles on all alike. To
be selfish, then, is to be unlike nature, resulting finally in com-
plete isolation from all her rich treasures in the Spirit-world.
This is a natural result, flowing from grand, immutable laws.
He whose life is barren of good results, gravitates to. a plane
exactly corresponding with his interior nature or aspirations.
Even the aspiration to do good, with no power to carry out
\'our noble purposes, is attended with grand results to the spirit.

I

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD, 199

In giving an account of my pre-natal development, and of
the transit of my spirit to this sphere of existence, I hope I
have imparted a lesson that will benefit humanity.

I would exhort all to banish selfishness from their hearts,
as they would a poisonous serpent from their presence, and
they need not fear the future — it will be bright and glorious!
In conclusion, I simply subscribe myself

Humanitarian Spirit.

THE ORDER OF NATURE.

'*When one is still young and in health it is natural,"
s,2iy^ De?noresfs Monthly, *'that death should be an object of
fear, but it is not true that those who are very sick fear the
grave. Dr. Griswold, an eminent physician who has seen
many death-beds, declares that the dying do not fear death,
but rather desire it. To pass away when the time comes is in
the order of nature, and we all submit to the inevitable with-
out a murmur. Nor is it true that death is attended with any
superstitious terrors, for, strangely enough, all physicians
agree that the dying think of the past, not of the future.
Death itself is not painful; there is no pain or mental agony
except in case of wounds or premature death. There is often
terrible suffering from disease, but death is always a relief. It
is idle as well as wicked to make death seem horrible or pain-
ful. Indeed, to myriads of human beings it is looked upon
as a deliverer from pain and care. In one of the most popular
religions of the East — Buddhism — Nirvana, or annihilation,
takes the place of the heaven of the Christian belief."

200 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

Experiences ii\ Spirit-LiFe.

THE IMPRESSIVE TESTIMONY OF AN EXALTED SPIRIT.

AN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION: WHAT IS DEATH INTERESTING

JOURNEY IN THE REALM OF SOULS THE MORTAL STATE BUT

THE PORTAL OF LIFE DEATH IS LIKE AWAKENING FROM A

DREAM THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF REST SUPREME AND DELIGHT-
FUL DRESS OF THE SPIRITS SEEN SOME SPIRITS NOT HAPPY,

BEING IN DARKNESS DEATH NOT A DESTROYER.

*It is more than idle curiosity that seeks to know what
death is, but reflection should teach that no general explanation
can solve the mystery. To Socrates, for instance, it was the
subject for experiment and philosophical observation; to Na-
poleon, stormy and apparently inimical. The human race has
no truer friend nor an agent more sorely misjudged.

But it rarety comes to two persons with identity of effect
in the initial movement upon the intellect, for no two intellects
are precisely alike, and each is treated according to its needs,
just as the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb. I can give
little beyond that which my individual experience involves, and
part of this is indescribable to mortal comprehension, for there
are circumstances and conditions here for which spoken lan-
guage supplies no names.

The mortal state is but the portal of life, and in it very
little relating to the immortal environment can be made truly
intelligible. There is nothing with which to compare it, as
Swedenborg admirably illustrated, for its grandeur is that of
the illimitable universe and beyond finite grasp.

♦The above, from the Ciucinnati Enquirer, was given, we are assured, through a finely
developed medium.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 201

I did not recognize death when it came to me, nor the
spirit condition. I awoke from a dream that had been ampHfied
many hundred-fold, and it was*a foretaste of bliss. With con-
genial friends I have roamed through forest glens colonnaded
by venerable trees, in green pastures irrigated by purling
streams, among orchards in ruddy fruitage, beside vast fields
heavy with ripened grain and protected b}^ interminable hedge-
rows, bestudded with flowers so magnificent as to remind one
of the star gems in the firmament of God. We visited the
Hebrides and explored Fingal's cave; saw Florence and Venice,
Rome and Munich in apparently a few hours, and gazed into
the crater of Vesuvius when it was seething in fiery rage.
Africa, India, Australia, New Zealand and Alaska were com-
prehensively explored, and a leap made to Spitzbergen, as
readily as one traverses great space in an ordinary dream, w^ith-
out special wonder. Through Russia and Siberia the pace was
rapid, for before darkness overtook us we were upon the apex
of ''Cheops," the great pyramid of Egypt. Really, I have no
memory of night in this whole excursion, but we saw opera at
Berlin, comedy at Paris, tragedy in Austria's capital, and much
miscellaneous deviltry at Lisbon and Madrid, and most of these
were behind the footlights.

Description of all we saw would make a large and interest-
ing book, and I mention these few items merely to demonstrate
that the conditions are adapted to the individual mind. I had
always felt a great desire to travel and personally inspect
localities which were famous in history. Among other notable
objects to which memory recurs we visited Pompey's Pillar, the
Palace of Memory, Temples of Osiris and Diana, the Alhambra,
Escurial and many obelisks. We passed in and out of seraglios
without impediment, and explored all the m3^steries of life in
the harem at our ease. We discovered them to be places where
fancy takes precedence of fact and makes truth of little value.
Negligence of order and propriety and the ordinary courtesies
in polygamous countries is the best argument ever found for
the grand institution of monogamy.

Upon the steppes of Asia our band prevented a murder by
affrighting the bloody-minded Bedouins about to perpetrate it,
and in London they saved a dear little child from destruction
by causing a runaway team to swerve from its course, through
means inexplicable except to the spirit. And, upon awaking,

202 THE ENCYCL OFyEBIA OF DBA TH

all these things were mentally reviewed and regarded as a won-
derful dream. From the reminiscent standpoint its duration
seemed to have been through many months of industrious ex-
ertion and unalloyed pleasure, and it had enlarged the mind,
given new wings to fancy and increased the thirst for knowledge.

After a long time spent in reviewing what I had seen and
felt, it occurred to me that the surroundings upon which I
then gazed were new and strange; that I was not in my own
room; that the bed was not there, but I was reclining upon
something so soft as to give back no sense of contact; and
that the atmosphere rose and fell in little puffs of gold and
purple like the aurora of a clear, frosty morning. Yet there
was no sense of either cold or warmth. The consciousness of
rest was supreme and delightful, and a delicious languor pos-
sessed me in an embrace too ecstatic to relinquish. I had no
desire to get up, and curiosity as to this new environment v/as
demolished by the peace and security it realized. So I re-
mained in that position, the subject of the pleasantest sensa-
tions, without account of time or thought or care, w^ondering
a little why friends came not, and marveling at the grateful si-
lence.

Perhaps I slept again, but if so, it was only for a little
space, and then the sound of sweet voices came through the
curtains of iridescent nebulosity, arousing me to a sense of
life and desire for companionship. As if responding to this
sentiment, immediately two young men appeared at my couch
and kindly saluted me. One asked if I felt completely restored.
Not till then did remembrance come that I had been very sick.
Yes, thank the Lord, I was well. Pain was all gone and
strength had returned.

*'But," I asked, ^^ where am I?"

*'Come with us and see," said they.

"Willingly, after I dress."

**You are clothed," was the answer.

Not till then had I noticed their raiment. It consisted of
pearl gray robes as soft as ether, and caps of the same mate-
rial encircled by blue bands, the whole giving a refreshing
sense of airiness. I was correspondingly appareled and did
not think of the wherefore, for all feeling of care and wonder
was gone.

We sauntered into a patfi like a grand boulevard, but car-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 203

peted with flowers of many hues, which sprang up through
l3eds of moss as soft as silk, and dispensed their fragrance
with the lavishness of nature in her best moods. And as we
came to a place where thousands of men, women and cfiildren
were entering a great arbor, flower-bedecked and illuminated
by wonderful aureolae, the young men turned and joined the
swelling procession, and arm in arm we went in with the mul-
titude. It was a countless host, and overflowing with songs,
joyous words and merry laughter. Upon a dais in the center
of the great amphitheatre were formed many groups in little
circles, and making one of these I saw in garments white as
snow and pure as heavenly love, the harbingers of life eternal,
and then for the first time the sublime truth reached my soul
that I w^as in the realms of immortal life.

Those who composed that special group were my father,
mother, grandfather, grandmother, uncles, aunts, a dear sis-
ter, and one who would have sustained a tender relation to me
had she remained longer upon earth, and there were others of
various degrees of relationship with them, all smiling upon
me and my companions and beckoning our approach. I went
to them in haste, and received the welcome which only pure
affection can emphasize. Mother said:

''You had a long and refreshing sleep."

''But not here," said I.

"Certainly, here in the Spirit-home," she answered.

"But I only came here this morning."

"True. Here it is always morning. There is neither
yesterday nor to-morrow, never night nor gloom. Yet you
slept long, when the interval was counted in a mother's
heart."

"I traversed the whole world in a dream, and that re-
quired time," I said, by way of apology.

"It was no dream, but the astral body followed in the
track of the mortal desire after the spirit came here. It is a law
of nature and the final effort of all life that retains active sym-
pathy with the mortal part."

Each of the other little groups was welcoming a new-
comer, and the air was vocal with notes of joy, and on every
side there was proof that happiness is reflective, like the brill-
iancy of the planets, and all those countenances, bright with
smiles and glowing with innocent enjoyment, furnished a mir-

204 THE ENCYCLOFyEDIA OF DEATH

ror which transmitted to each and all the rays of a supreme
•and ever-shining benevolence.
Vis this heaven? " I asked.
**Yes, if we make it so," replied mother.
*'Can we make heaven?"

*'It must be made by such as we are or its felicity fore-
gone. Heaven is a condition, and many enjoy it in the earth-
life and bring it here when they surrender the mortal incum-
brance. This is not just as we were taught, but the teachers
were conscientious and performed a glorious work. Those
mortals who meekly submit to the guidance of conscience are
the salt of the earth, and no one is condemned for an honest
belief, even if it is founded in gross ignorance."
''Then there is hope for the heathen?"
''Certainly. There is no discrimination in matters of ab-
stract faith, nor intention of condemning Plato, Epicurus and
Diogenes by any rule that would not appty equally against
Bishop Butler, Dr. Channing and the Prophet Isaiah."

This was a revelation. I have had many, but few were
equally startling. Some here are not absolutely happy, for
they are in semi-darkness, although in the immediate presence
of those who have the blessed light. They are progressing
and sure to reach the better condition through perseverance in
good works, for the inducement to persevere is the motive
of all their hopes.

The world is fairly supplied with the truth that is adapted
to man's nature and capacity, and he is not required to reach
for that he cannot grasp and assimilate. Duty is by no means
complex unless made so by finely-drawn abstractions and those
gossamer lines between the tw^o "tweedles," which so often
have made theology a reproach rather than a sacred and dig-
nified science, and when thus prostituted the sense of duty in
intelligent men is succeeded by disgust. Spirits partake of
the same feeling and deprecate it as disastrous to the highest
interests of the race.

It is said that death is the end of woe. This is true with
those who have led honest lives. Those who have not so lived
will find that they have cheated themselves rather than the
world, and that the result is tedious and perplexing discom-
fiture. Lives that if lived by some would be strictly honest

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 205

ciud commendable, if lived by others would be a cheat and ob-
noxious to the severest condemnation. These two classes will
certainly be judged according to their lights, and the intent of
an act will have much to do in making the status of its per-
former. If there is such a place as hell, it is not paved with
good intentions, but most likel}'' with those of the contrary
brand.

The latter portion of this message was in answer to ques-
tions by investigators, and is reported to . make the account
complete. There is no wish to provoke controversy nor de-
sire to in any degree disturb honest belief. To the final ques-
tion:

''What is spirit?" the answer was substantially as fol-
lows:

''Spirit is the living, moving and doing principle, imma-
terial to mortal eyes, but composed of a substance indestructi-
ble, and manifest in color, weight, feeling and action to spiritual
apprehension."

WHAT IS DEATH?. "IS IT A DESTROYER OR BUILDER?

'^Death, then, has taken nothing from the laboratory of
nature; it simply takes up the elements that life has left, and
arranges for another form of life. Thus her resources are never
exhausted. The equipoise is always maintained, the supply is
equal to the demand, and nothing is either lost or gained in the
workl of material, during all the cycles of time. The wisest
man in the world has not the power of destroying a single ele-
ment, but may change its form and displace the arrangement;
for what is is, has been and always will be.

I hold in my hand a piece of wood; the elements consti-
tuting the wood- are held in bondage and have not the power
of acting independently of each other. I cast the bit of wood
into the flame and watch it being slowly consumed thereby.
When this process is completed, have I destroyed the wood?
As a piece of wood, yes; but the elements that constituted it,
and were enslaved, are set free by the action of combustion,
and they start out on a higher career than that which marked
their former existence. Destroyed? No. Changed, uplifted,
set free? Yes. From this example, it will be seen that,
through the law of evolution, death becomes a stepping-stone

*Augusta W. Fletclier, ^M. D., iu " The Other World and This."

2o6 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

of life, and that throughout all the physical universe these great
processes have enabled this and all other planets to arrive at
their present state of development, and will be the power
whereby still mightier results shall be obtained. The ordinary
mind will not grasp easily, or accept readily, the law of evolu-
tion. Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall and Spencer are all personali-
ties which the unthinking fear; whose hands have, with the
wand of truth, during the present century, destroyed so many
idols and temples. These men, great and wise as they are,
and in whose praise too much cannot be said, have only taken
one side of the subject. They have reasoned logically as far
as they have gone, but have not completed the journey. They
have all led up to human life; they have begun from the lowest
point, have journeyed far and wide, until they reached man,
and then stopped. That science that can read the story of the
stars, the history of the planet upon which you stand, analyze
the drop of water, aye, the very air you breathe, stands before
the grave with closed eyes and sealed lips, without the ability
to take one single step over its threshold into the future. But
science, in the age that is to come, must cross this threshold
and penetrate into the depths of the life beyond, so that the
spiritual world shall be as logically understood as are the more
material planets that make up the system.

Mankind to-day is looking toward science to solve the
problem which, in earlier days, was relegated to ecclesiastical
judges. Even the church, after preaching immortality for cen-
turies, and assuming that man never dies, is endeavoring to
find proof of its assertion entirely outside its own province.
Science can, when it recognizes the spiritual side of life, easily
accomplish this great purpose for the world, by remembering
that the spirit is first; that matter is only a means of its expres-
sion; that this planet, this material world, is but the instrument
in the hands of the spiritual world; that every blade of grass
every singing bird, and every human being, is but an expres-
sion of the same forces, differing in degree of unfoldment, but,
through the action of the law of evolution, forever creeping
along the pathway of progress to the ultimate, which is but the
turning-point of a newer and greater destiny. In man, we find
the realization of matter and spirit. Without spirit, matter is
expressionless and void; with spirit, it takes its place among
the mighty realities of the world, guiding, shaping and in-

AXD LIFE /.V TITR SPIRIT- WORLD.

207

fluencing the destiny of all things and all persons that are
responsive to it.

During the younger years of life, the spirit is gaining pos-
session of its machine; during the latter years, they work in
harmony with each other, and the best work of life is accom-
plished between the years of twenty-five and fifty. In that
time, in most cases, the spirit has become responsive to higher
attractions than the earth offers, and the subsequent years, be
they few or many, are passed in the effort of the spirit to grad-
ually relieve itself from physical environments, so as to take
on the higher spiritual ones, for which the experiences of life
have finally fitted it, and when death comes it is simply the
completion of a process which has been going on for a long
time.

THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

TKe fliiltiFarioas Processes of Dyiiv^.

AS DELINEATED BY MANY DIFFERENT MORTALS AND SPIRITS.

DEATH THE HERITAGE OF ALL THE PROCESS OF DYING FOR ALL

NATURE DISINTEGRATES, BUT NEVER DESTROYS LIFE AND

DEATH ATOMS OF MATTER AND THE DYING DESCRIPTION OF

THE DYING THE PROCESS OF DYING ANALYZED THOROUGHLY.

Most assuredly there is a proces§, a sublime and beautiful
one, connected with dying, and it is as prominent, too, in
some respects, as the growth, formation and birth of a child.
Nature works only through the instrumentality of a method
exclusively her own. You may dictate the precise hour and
minute when you will commit suicide, and thus end your mortal
career, but you cannot control the God-ordained process
through which you must pass, until you shall have reached that
point designated as ''death!" The stages of death in all cases
are self-existent, and, therefore, you can never predict very
accurately the precise phenomena that may be manifested
therein. You are as helpless and feeble then as when you
quietly reposed in the mother's womb. The king, the queen,
the senator, the high official, the peasant and the slave — the
high and the low — must necessarily all pass through the varied
stages of dying. No mandate can prevent that ordeal. The
stern authority of an austere king is as puerile then as that of
the humblest of God's children. The pauper and the noble-
man are at one time in their respective careers — at the e?id of
life — on exactly the same plane. The sun shines impartiall}^
for all, and the divine radiance of the star-gemriied heavens
has no especial favorites. The stages of dying, too, are the
indestructible heritage of all of God's children. That in-
estimable boon belongs to all humanity in common. You can-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLL\

209

not die like a pauper; nor can you die like a king. Tiiere are
no conventionalities connected with the multifarious stages of
death. Each one must experience for himself alone its sublime
realities. The poor man, weary of life's toil, yearning for
peace, rest and happiness, may die more calmly and serenely
than the chosen ruler and favorite of a nation. The old woman
in the poor-house, tottering on the verge of the grave, when
dying, like all others, is simply reposing in the beneficent
hands of Nature. There can be no aristocracy then; no favored
class, who can receive special privileges; no one person who is
entitled to more tender consideration than any other child of
God. The wealth of an Astor, or Vanderbilt, cannot purchase
any especial favors from Nature when the last moments of a
poor mortal has arrived. Money, words of command, and
austere, domineering feelings can avail nothing in securing im-
munity from dying. The process is for all alike, and it is one
of the noblest ordinances of Divine Providence — whatever that
may be — opening the doors to a more beautiful and higher
plane of existence, and presenting to the enraptured vision the
grandeur of the celestial regions, and drawing one nearer to God.

LIFE AND DEATH COMPREHENSIVELY ILLUSTRATED.

Fichte (Dr. Smith's Translation) says:

All death in nature is birth, and in death itself appears
visibly the exaltation of life! There is no destructive principle
in nature; for nature throughout is clear, unclouded life; it i?
not death which kills, but the more living life, which, concealed
behind the former, bursts forth into new development. Death
and birth are but the struggle of life with itself to assume a
more glorious and congenial form. And my death, — how can
it be aught else, since I am not a mere semblance and show of
life, but bear within me the one original, true, essential life?
It is impossible to conceive that nature should annihilate a life
which does not proceed from her; the nature which exists for
me, and not I for her!

Yet even my natural life, even this mere outward man-
ifestation to mortal sight of the inward invisible life, she can-
not destroy without destroying herself; she who only exists for
me, and on account of me, and exists not if I am not. Even
because she destroys me must she animate me anew; it is only
my higher life, unfolding itself in her, before which my present

2IO THE ENCYCL OP^EDIA OF DEA TH

life can disappear; and what mortals call death is the visible
appearance of this second life. Did no reasonable being who
had once beheld "the light of this world" die, there would be
no ground to look with faith for a new heaven and a new earth;
the only possible purpose of nature, to manifest and maintain
reason, would be fulfilled here below, and her circle would be
completed. But the very act by which she consigns a free and
independent being to death is her own solemn entrance, in-
telligible to all reason, into a region beyond this act itself, and
beyond the whole sphere of existence which is thereby closed.
Death is the ladder by which my spiritual vision rises to a new
life and a new nature.

Every one of my fellow-creatures who leaves this earthly
brotherhood, and whom my spirit cannot regard as annihilated,
because he is my brother, draws my thoughts after him beyond
the grave, — he is still, and to him belongs a place. While we
mourn for him here below, as in the dim realms of unconscious-
ness there might be mourning when a man bursts from them
into the light of thi? world's sun, above there is rejoicing that
a man is born into that world, as we denizens of the earth re-
ceive with joy those ?vho are born unto us. When I shall one
day follow, it will be but joy for me; sorrow shall remain be-
hind in the sphere I shall have left.

The world on which but now I gazed with wonder passes
away from before me, and sinks from my sight. With all the
fullness of life, order, ai d increase which I beheld in it, it is
yet but the curtain by which a world infinitely more perfect is
concealed from me, and tl^e germ from which that other shall
develop itself. My faith looks behind this veil, and cherishes
and animates this germ. It i ees nothing definite, but it expects
more than it can conceive here below — more than it will ever
be able to conceive in all tim(\

THERE IS NO DESTRUCTIVE, ANNIHILATING PRINCIPLE IN NATURE.

Nature disintegrates, but she never destroys, in the sense
of annihilation. The atom will always remain an atom, equally
potent during all eternity, in whatever relations it may be
placed. Nature never recognizes any such word as destruc-
tion. There is nothing in all of God's vast universe that can
be absolutely destroyed, so far as its atoms are concerned.
That form of beauty, loveliness and grandeur may be dissijjated

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 211

to-morrow, but its constituents will remain. The mortal body
that undergoes the glorious process designated as dying, still
has an important mission to the mineral, vegetable and animal
kingdoms, and it may assume in the course of time a position
far grander and more potent in some respects than ever be-
fore. The apple-tree, nourished by the decomposing remains
of Roger Williams, furnished fruit that sent its life-giving
properties to tingle in the veins of some oi God's children.
Nature can make and unmake, but she can never annihilate
anything, however minute, or render it useless. The atom
will do excellent service throughout all future time. Then,
when death approaches, ever remember that no absolute de-
struction takes place — only the disintegration of the body, to
be followed, perhaps, by grander revealments. Think of the
history of an atom! How varied, how grand, how peerless!
To-day in the eye of a mortal; then again glistening in a
flower; after that, entering into the composition of luscious
fruit; then going to the blood, assisting in giving strength to
some part of the body, and by and by hundreds of miles away
performing another mission in its eternal career. Ever tire-
less, ever alive, ever active, it is as eternal and unchangeable
as God himself. Atoms exist singly or in combinations, re-
sulting in diverse structures, but in all cases each one retains
its inherent life^ and will do so throughout all eternity; hence
Death is a term employed to express something that from the
very nature of things cannot exist, for there is absolutely no
such thing as death. Though a misnomer, one must neces-
sarily employ it in discussing the nature of the transition of
the spirit from earth to the other side of life.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE DYING.

The description of the dying, as given by Hippocrates
over 2,000 years ago, is as follows:

''The forehead wrinkled and dry; the eye sunken; the
nose pointed, and bordered with a violet or black circle; the
temples sunken, hollow and retired; the lips hanging down;
the cheeks sunken; the chin wrinkled and hard; the color of
the skin leaden or violet; the hairs of the nose and eyelashes
sprinkled with a yellowish white dust."

Commenting on the above The British Medical Journaf
saye:

212 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

**This is as to the face; and when all observed, we may
know that that face can never be lighted up to life again.
But there are other proofs which do not leave the shadow of a
doubt, as when the heart ceases to beat; the skin is pale and
cold; a film is over the eye; the joints, first rigid, have be-
come flexible; and a dark greenish color begins to form about
the skin of the abdomen, the infallible sign of beginning cor-
ruption. But as we would have it done to us as the last re-
quest, let us with the utmost willingness allow the poor help-
less, unresisting frame to remain at least forty-eight hours
under the unfastened lid after the surest proof of all has been
noticed, the cessation of all movement of the chest and ab-
domen, for then the breath of life has gone out forever. The
moments immediately preceding death from disease are prob-
ably those of utter insensibility to all pain, or of a delightful
passivity, from that universal relaxation of everything which
pertains to the physical condition."

INDICATIONS IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

Dr. Chiappelli says, in Lo Sperimentale, that he has fre-
quently noticed in patients who were apparently very far
from death an extraordinary opening of the eyelids, so as to
give the eyes the appearance of protruding from the orbits,
which was invariably a sign that death would occur within
twenty-four hours. In some cases only one eye is wide open,
while the other remains normal; here death will not follow
quite so rapidly, but in about a week or so. It is easy to ob-
serve this phenomenon when the eyes are wide open; but
when, as is generally the case, the eyes are half shut and only
opened from time to time, it will be found advisable to fix the
patient's attention upon some point or light so as make him
open his eyes, when the phenomenon will be seen. The au-
thor is utterly at a loss to explain this symptom, and ascribes
it to some diseased state of the sympathetic nerve. .

THE PRIZE FOR A CERTAIN SIGN OF DEATH.

*The Marquis d'Ourches offered, through the Paris Acad-
emic de Medicine, several years ago, two prizes, one of
twenty thousand francs, the other of five thousand francs, for

*SurgIaal and Medical Reporter, Philadelphia, Pa.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 213

some simple, certain sign of death. The secretary, Dr. Roger,
reported on the competition. He prefaces his account of these
awards by a lively historical view, in which the various fables
concerning premature interments are disposed of very sum-
marily. The old story of Vesalius also receives no credit from
him. "Neither is it true," he says, ''that men of art have
committed cruel mistakes with regard to apparent death. Ve-
salius, the creator of anatomy, first physician to Charles Y.
and Philip II., directed his scalpel into the body of a gentle-
man while yet alive, and for this he was condemned to death,
and by commutation to exile in the Holy Land. This is the
way history is written. For this fact about Vesalius contem-
porary chronicles may be searched in vain. The autopsy of
the gentleman, the capital condemnation, all is pure inven-
tion; and if Vesalius repaired to Palestine it was only for his
health."

One hundred and two essays were sent in, but none was
deemed worthy the first prize. The second was divided be-
tween six competitors. Five hundred francs were given M.
de Cordue for his observations on the effects of the flame of a
candle on the pulp of the finger. As long as life persists this
burn produces ampullae filled with serosity, while, when life is
extinct, they contain nothing but vapor. The condition of the
eye has long been constituted a sign, and of late the disap-
pearance some hours after death of the dilating power of bel-
ladonna and of the contracting pov/er of Calabar bean has
been noted. M. Larcher has been rewarded with a recom-
pense of five hundred francs for the discovery in the ej^e of
what he regards a new sign of death. As the result of the ex-
amination of nearly nine hundred subjects, he has observed
that a certain sign of death is the occurrence of a shaded and
grayish spot, first at the outer portion of the sclerotica, and
gradually invading its whole surface. It is a sign of local de-
composition which precedes general decomposition by several
hours. M. Poncet also receives an honorable mention for a
sign as positive and more rapid in appearance, viz., a general
discoloration of the fundus of the eye, this changing from the
intense red seen by the ophthalmoscope during life, to a yel-
lowish white. M. MoUand, one of the official municipal ver-
ifiers of death, has obtained two thousand francs of the prize,
in consequence of his observations concerning cadaveric lividity

2 1 4' THE ENCYCL OP^DTA OF DBA TH

of dependent parts of the body, made in sixteen thousand
subjects. From these he concludes that such lividity is a con-
stant sign of death, which is of the more practical value as it
generally appears very soon after death. For investigations
as to the temperatM7'e of the body after death as a sign of death,
M. Bouchut and M. Linas have each received one thousano
francs.

ATOMS OF MATTER AND THE DYING.

*Death is in reality the dissolution or separation of the
atoms, the totality of which forms and makes the organism
what it is; each atom composing that organism by this process
is dissolved, and departing with or emerging from its grosser
elements, ascends and mingles with other atoms suited to its
state and condition, and made such by virtue of having formed
part of the organism; for no greater fallacy exists than to sup-
pose that matter, as it is called, is without life, or that it is
nothing more than the conglomeration of particles destitute of
force. The fact of the power of cohesion and repulsion, of
formation and disintegration, possessed even by the densest
and grossest of material atoms, is a proof to the contrary; and
where is the instrument that can carry the process of division
to the limit at which it can be affirmed that here ends the
power of divisibility, and this is the real unit or atom, the
multiples of which form the earth and all organized or un-
organized forms upon and within its surface?

There is no such thing as a dead atom of matter; for,
resolve and reduce a particle of density and opaqueness to its
minutest dimension, it is still a part — small only by compari-
son— of the solidified bulk, which, if subjected to chemical
action, becomes fluid or gaseous, as the case may be, and thus
only appears material while in the condition of apparent
solidity. Put into the fewest words, that which is called
''matter" is spirit in a state of solidification, gaseous, fluidic,
or dense, either in organic or unorganic structural forms in
exact accord, corresponding with the highest form which in-
habits the planet in physical human material form. Thus,
both man and his dwelling-place is composed of one and the
same substance or material.

*Win. Oxly, England.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 215

THERE CAN BE NO DEAD ATOMS.

Death is the term usually employed to express the final
liberation of the immortal spirit from its earthly encasement.
Of course, it should be regarded in no other light than a mis-
nomer. There cannot, in the very nature of things, be an ab-
solute death, or extinction, on the part of anything. If one
atom cannot die, then a combination of them could not change
the inherent nature of each. There is just as much actual life
in matter after the change designated as death as before. All
the life there is now, or ever can be, on this material side of
existence, is embraced within the sum total of all atoms.

DON'T BE IN HASTE TO BURY THE DEAD.

Only in the case of the most malignant epidemic should
the friends of the deceased be in haste for the interment of one
who falls a victim thereto. While his eyes are closed, and res-
piration and pulse-beats are no longer apparent, and his form
prostrate before you, then carefully consider what has occurred
in cases of suspended animation, and that life is ever tenacious,
and that even resuscitation may be produced by the operation
of nature's forces alone. Like thousands of others in the past,
who were mistaken in their judgment in pronouncing a verdict
as to life or death — which? — you, too, may badly err, and,
therefore, in all ordinary cases, where the body appears to be
lifeless, don't be in a hurry for the final burial. Become per-
fectly familiar with the multifarious signs of death; be able to
discern them clearly; weigh carefully all the evidence you have,
and never pronounce a final verdict until every expedient at
resuscitation has been tried, where there is a particle of doubt.
In all sudden deaths, so-called, wait! — wait patiently! If your
friend or relative has been stricken down, while apparently in
the vigor of health, you have before you a subject for experi-
ment and the most profound study.

DYING AS VIEWED BY AN EMINENT DIVINE.

*First — Death in average cases is a great spiritual ex-
perience, and involves a great decision for or against the light
it brings. It may be that, under the natural laws of the soul,
this decision is crucial, and becomes the rudder of all eternity.

Second — Death is the separation of the soul from the body.

*Rev, Joseph Cook in the Christian Uulon.

2i6 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH.

Third — Death is not over until the separation of the soul
from the body is complete. Death does not end until the life
of the soul completely outside of the body begins.

Fourth — It is in the highest degree probable, to reason
from the observed experiences of the dying, that, however
torpid body and mind may be in many approaches to death,
the soul in the very article of death is often awakened, and
receives, as if from an Invisible world, an illumination unknown
to it before.

Fifth — Even in sudden deaths, as the experiences of the
drowning show, as my own experience in being thrown twenty
feet down a rocky bank in a sleeping-coach on a swift railway
train, and expecting instant death, and finding between the
brink and the bottom m}' whole life passing before me in a pan-
orama, the chambers of memory and conscience illuminated as
if a torch had suddenly been lighted inside of the brain — as all
these experiences show, an instant may be enough to bring
before the soul the record of its whole career on earth

FEAR OFTTIMES PRODUCES UNCONSCIOUSNESS.

In the process of dying, nature manifests a beneficent
spirit in a multitude of ways. When a man is precipitated
from a high altitude, the extreme fear aroused induces un-
consciousness, and I have reason to believe that the final
concussion is not felt. Many have actually died through the
wonderful potency of joy; others of grief; others of anger, and
others, still, of fear, love or hatred. The process of dying, in
case of falling from a high altitude, commences, probably at
the very moment the victim fully realizes his danger. Two
fiery, brutish, angry gladiators, do not feel any pain arising
from their wounds when first made. There is a very great
potency in the action of the mind alone. A man falls dead
through the fear of an impending danger. This is, indeed, a
beneficent law of nature. Fear is equally potent, whether the
danger be real or imaginary. Soldiers, apparently in robust
health, have been found dead on the field of battle, and yet
not the slightest wound or injury was visible. Fright alone
undoubtedly killed many of them. In the process of dying,
let us be devoutly thankful that unconsciousness often super-
venes before the final end, and the victim does not realize the
terrible ordeal through which he has passed, or sense any pain

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 217

whatever arising from the concussion of his body with the
earth when falling from a great height.

TODT AND SCHEINTODT.

As is well known, ''it has, in all countries, been difficult
to ascertain the difference between todt and scheintodt — death
and the semblance of death. Dr. Gandolfi, a learned Italian
writer, whose work on ' Forensic Medicine ' was revised by the
illustrious Mittermayer, is of opinion that medical men are
themselves liable to make mistakes on this important question.
He says, first, that the organic phenomena which precede ap-
parent death cannot of themselves be distinguished from those
which precede real death, and that for a certain time it will be
difficult to decide, scientifically, whether life be suspended, or
extinct; and, second, that many phenomena which announce
real death are the common and necessary indications of ap-
parent death, as, for instance, the want of motion, of sense,
of breathing, and of pulsation.

''These are terrible sentences. How many persons are
pronounced as dead simply because they have ceased to breathe
and move and show signs of a pulse — persons who, according
to Gandolfi, may not, in all cases, be ready for burial! It is
Gandolfi's opinion that persons 'pronounced as dead' may, in
some rare instances, be the witnesses — the mute and fear-
stricken witnesses — of their own funeral; that they may know
perfectly well that they are going to be put into coffins, and
thence into the earth, and yet be powerless, alive as they are,
to avert the catastrophe of a legal murder."

TISSUAL DECAY IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

Professor E. Chenery, M. D., of Boston, in an able arti-
cle in the Scientific American Supplement, gives the following:

"The theory assumes that the death and the discharge of
the products of death are one and the same thing, and wholly
overlooks the medium by which the elimination is effected.
Now, nothing can be plainer than that tissual decay is one
thing, and the removing of the products of decay is quite an-
other. Any one can see that if there is no waste within, none
can be thrown off; while on the other hand, it stands to
reason that though there is an abundance of debris within, lit-

2 1 8 THE ENC YCL OPyEDIA OE DEA TH

tie or none can be cast out if the medium b}^ which excretion
is effected is rendered inoperative.

''By winding a string tightly about my finger I do not
necessarily destroy the life of my finger, nor will tissual
change be arrested at once. I prevent the return of the blood
from the part, which grows dark from the heaping up of the
products of tissual waste which continues to take place but
cannot escape. Indeed, a man with a rope about his neck-
does not die immediately, but his body becomes surcharged
with waste carbon and turns black for want of air to take the
carbon aw^^y. His heart continues to beat, and the tissual
changes go on until the products kill him from within. Were
it not so he would die scarcely sooner with the rope around
his neck than with it under his arms, where the colored man
wished it put in his case, as he said he 'was ticklish in the re-
gion of the neck:' A similar state of things is often witnessed
by physicians in persons asphyxiated by drowning, croup, and
various other suffocative diseases, in which the deprivation of
air and its oxygen results in an accumulation of waste within,
and consequently in failure of nutrition, nervous prostration,
and, finally, in death, unless relief is afforded. In all these
cases there is a diminution in the excretion of carbonic acid
and urea, yet no candid man for a moment supposes that the
tissues are in consequence conserved and the bodily condition
made better by it."

A GENERAL PROTEST AGAINST HASTY INTERMENTS.

In all cases of sickness the various organs of the body
seem to instinctively combine their multifarious forces in order
to sustain life. Each one appears to earnestly protest against
the ravages of disease, and when compelled to succumb, it
does so gradually, but reluctantly. One after another of the
various organs submit to the foreign invaders — for such are
the various diseases — and finally life is considered extinct.
The general tendency of the body is invariably manifested in
the direction of life; it never succumbs to disease without a
desperate struggle, and when it finally yields, a reluctance to
do so can be plainly discovered by the critical observer. So
strong is the inclination of the organic system to retain in ac-
tion the vital forces, that when once brought under complete
subjection by some agent foreign to itself, and respiration and

A^D LIFI IN THE SPIRIT WORLD. 2ig

consciousness have ceased, it does not remain so sometimes,
but when, perhaps, the body is about to be interred, its own
innate vitality is manifested lifeward, and another victim has
been ' ' providentially " saved from premature interment. Know-
ing this fact, the skillful physician will invariably hesitate be-
fore he relinquishes all hope of restoring the unconscious, or
those supposed to be dead. I believe the time will eventually
come, when many of those who fall senseless — apparently
dead — in consequence of heart disease, will be easily resusci-
tated, providing it is the first attack. It would be well for
physicians to experiment in such cases.

PHYSIOLOGY OF DROWNING IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

Sir Benjamin Brodie sets forth that if a small animal be
immersed in water in a transparent glass vessel, the phe-
nomena of drowning is readily observable:

There is first a deep respiration by which bubbles of air
are expelled from the lungs.

There is then an effort to inspire; but the effort is inef-
fectual, there being no air which can be received into the
lungs; and a spasm of the muscles seems to prevent the ad-
mission of water in any considerable quantity into the trachea.

The attempts to breathe are repeated several times; and
after each attempt a small quantity of air is expelled from the
mouth and nostrils, until the air cells of the lungs are com-
pletely emptied. Then the animal becomes insensible, and
convulsive action of the muscles marks the instant when the
brain begins to suffer from the influx of the dark-colored
blood.

After the convulsions the animal is motionless, and gives
no sign of life; but if the hand be applied to the thorax, the
pulsation of the heart gradually becoming fainter and fainter,
indicates that some remains of vitality still linger in the sys-
tem.

Before the circulation ceases altogether, the muscles of
respiration resume their action, and some ineffectual efforts
are again made to breathe. It is a remarkable circumstance
that the diaphragm continues to exert itself, so that the inter-
val between the cessation of the attempts to breathe and the
cessation of the motion of the heart, short as it is in animals
that die of strangulation, is shorter still in those that perish

220 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

from drowning. These phenomena follow each other in rapid
succession, and the whole scene is closed, and the living an-
imal is converted into a lifeless corpse, in the brief space of a
few minutes.

Mr. Brodie had never opened the thorax of an animal in
which the heart was found acting in such a manner as to main-
tain the circulation of the blood so long as five minutes after
complete submersion: and from the information which he has
received from some of the medical attendants at the receiving-
houses of the Koyal Humane Society, he is led to believe that
the period is very rarely, if ever, longer than this in the hu-
man subject.

THE IDIOSYNCRASIES OF DEATH.

The idiosyncrasies manifested during the stages of death
are numberless. No two persons dying experience precisely
the same sensations. Nature is prolific in her peculiar, di-
verse manifestations. She seems to never become weary in
modifying her actions with reference to those who are daily
passing from this stage of existence. In the twinkling of an
eye one apparently dies. In another, the *' death-rattle" lin-
gers, as if to solemnly chide the friends for some great wrong.
Then again another, while apparently dying, revives for a
short time, talks freely, is seemingly imbued with some extra-
neous force, and then drops back on the pillow, and without a
single gasp expires. No two physicians can tell precisely the
same death-bed experiences; but in all cases and under all cir-
cumstances/the greatest care, sagacity, skill, watchfulness and
untiring energy should be manifested when life is supposed
to linger in a person.

THE PROCESS OF DYING AS VIEWED BY MISS NIGHTINGALE.
*Miss Nightingale has pointed out how consistently the
mental state of the dying depends on their physical conditions.
As a rule, she tells us, in acute cases, interest in their danger
is rarel}^ felt. *^ Indifference, excepting in regard to bodily
suffering, or to some duty the dying man desires to perform,
is the far more usual state. But patients who die of consump-
tion very frequently die in a state of seraphic joy and peace;
the countenance almost expresses rapture. Patients who die
of cholera, peritonitis, etc., on the contrary, often die in a

*London (Eng ) Spectator.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 221

state approaching despair. In dysentery, diarrhoea, or fevers,
the patient often dies in a state of indifference. Those who
have carefully examined the dead on a battle-field, or in the
streets, are struck with the fact that while the expression on
the faces of those who ha'^e died of gunshot wounds is one of
agony and distress, the dead by sword have a calmer expres-
sion, though their wounds often seem more painful to the eye.
A very careful observer, who was through the Indian mutiny,
entirely confirms this. After giving several instances, he says:
^'A rapid death by steel is almost painless. Saber edge or
point divides the nerves so quickly as to give little pain. A
bullet lacerates."

THE LAST THOUGHTS IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

The last thoughts or meditations of those who are dying
Sv^em to sometimes possess a remarkable potency, and, to a
certain extent, give a peculiar expression to the features. The
mother who is about to expire, and who must leave a dear
child in care of the cold mercy of the world, has an anxious
expression manifested on her countenance that" is easily dis-
cernible. The one who has waged an unsuccessful battle with
the exigencies of life, and who has been crushed under its bur-
dens, will pass away with grim despair depicted on the care-
worn face. The warrior, infatuated with the idea that his
heroic deeds on the sanguinary battle-field will be instrumental
in crowning him in heaven, will have his features tinged with
an expression of peace and self-reliance. The inmost thoughts
of the dying invariably leave their impressive imprint upon the
face. It may be dim, but it can -be easily discernible by the
close observer. Sometimes a vivid expression of extreme terror
and dismay overshadows the features, the legitimate result of
a great dread of the approaching dissolution. The villain, sub-
dued, humiliated and powerless, will have malignant hate and
ferocity portrayed vividly upon his face. The one who passes
sublimely into the arms of death, imbued with a divine love for
all humanity, will leave upon his countenance an angelic ex-
pression of peace and contentment. All the processes of dying
can never be enumerated. The field for future exploration is
still large, and numberless mysteries therein remain unsolved.

*The signs or indications of death are cessation of the

*Dr. Wooster Beach, in a Paper on the " Inspection of the Dead."

2-22 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

respiration, arrest of the hearts action, loss of animal heat,
rigor mortis, and putrefaction. Of these, cessation of respira-
tion is looked upon by many as the surest indication. Sir
Benjamin Brodie says it may be regarded as the decisive test
of the extinction of life; and Taylor says "the visible cessation
of breathing for a period of five minutes furnishes a certain
proof that the person is really dead." The latter also says in
regard to another sign: ''It is impossible to admit that the
heart can remain for even half an hour in a state of inaction,
and then spontaneously regain its activity." Yet there are
many cases that give the flat denial to these averments. Many
tests to prove real death have been proposed, and to most of
these there are strong objections. The tests upon which most
dependence can be placed are auscultation, galvanism, and the
examination by the ophthalmoscope. These can be used only
by skilled persons, and it consequently follows that there is
possibility of a person being buried alive.

In 1837 a prize of 1,500 francs was offered by Prof. Monni,
of the University of Rome, for the best essay on apparent death.
Afterward the Marquis d'Ouche left 200,000 francs to be given
for the best means that could be applied by common people to
detect death; 5,000 francs for the best method to detect death.
In Germany this important subject has received much\ atten-
tion; in England but little. In this country there are no stat-
utory laws governing this matter, except such as allow the
Boards of Health in cities to regulate the burials within the
limits of their jurisdiction. None of their rules lay down the
time that dead bodies must be kept above ground, and the
only verification of death required by them is the ordinary
burial certificate. Our laws furnish no protection agai;nst the
danger of burying persons while alive.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD.

223

Drea6 oF DeatK a flatter oF E3acatioi\.

PHENOMENA OF DEATH, FROM A LEADING SCIENTIFIC JOURNAL.

DREAD OF DEATH A MATTER OF EDUCATION EMINENT PERSONS IN

DYING HOURS THREE ELEMENTS IN THE FEAR OF DEATH

HASTENING DEATH — NATURE'S ANAESTHETIC LORD COLLING-

WOOD DEATH FROM ASPHYXIA THE WRITER IS MISTAKEN IN

SOME OF HIS CONCLUSIONS.

*There seems to be no subject from which the mind so
instinctively shrinks, few thoughts more repellent to the soul,
and no dread vision of the night, however fantastic it be, that
presents to the imagination so formidable an aspect as that of
death. Indeed, with this all nature seems at variance. The
English ivy creeping over fallen ruins, or the fresh moss cov-
ering the prostrate trunk of some forest oak, seems as if en-
deavoring to hide from view the havoc which death has made.
Beyond the merely instinctive desire to exist, the dread of
death is a matter of education. Never does the child forget
his first sight of a corpse; the darkened chamber, the storm of
grief, the white face and rigid features, all combine to form an
indelible impression on the mind.

I It is probably the extensive paraphernalia attending the
funeral of the present day that renders death so formidable.
In war — on the battle-field, where death assumes its most san-
guinary aspect — the mind of the soldier, from constant asso-
ciation, becomes so inured, that it ceases to be impressed with
natural terror, and death seems but another foe to be met and
conquered. Although the consideration of this topic be re-
pugnant to the naturally healthy mind, there come times in

— ■■"■' ■ ■ ■ ■-■,■■■■■.■- I ■ ■ — .,— — . - _ .. -,- — , ,, ^^B^^g^M^^^

*Tlioma8 D. Spencer, M. I)., In Popular Science Monthly, Vol. 19, No. 3.

224 THE ENCYCLOFyEDIA OF DEATH '

the life of every individual, that might be termed periods of
self-consciousness, during which the mind brushes aside all
the more vulgar affairs of life, and grapples with the awe-in-
spiring mysteries of death. As these phenomena are consid-
ered one after another in their manifold aspects, the mind,
owing to the association of ideas, becomes involved in such
an intricate labyrinth of thought, that, after wandering here
and there, vainly endeavoring to solve the problem of death,
it gives it up as a hopeless conundrum.

. It is our purpose to discuss, as briefly as possible, some
of the most important aspects of dissolution.

Addison said that there was nothing in history more im-
posing than, nothing so affecting and pleasing as, the accounts
of the behavior of eminent persons in their dying hours; and
Montaigne remarks, while speculating on death, that of all the
passages in the annals of mankind, those which attracted and
delighted him most were the words and gestures of dying men.
*'If I were a maker of books," he continues, *^ I would com-
pile a register with comments of various deaths, for he who
should teach men to die would teach them to live. " There
are three elements presented in this fear of death: First, the
extinction of life's pleasures, interests and hopes, to which
the mind looks forward with a degree of apprehension pro-
portionate to the amount of happiness they are capable of af-
fording. With the young and vigorous the loss of these an-
imal enjoyments is contemplated with extreme misery; hence
the custom, among the Greeks, of bearing the lifeless body
of youth to the funeral-pyre at the break of morn, **lest the
sun should behold so sad a sight as the young dead." Sec-
ond, the dread of the unknown future, also depending upon
the nervous temperament. And, lastly, comes a fear more
powerful than either, which is the dread of pain, inherent in
nature. From time immemorial the actual moment of dissolu-
tion has been supposed to be accompanied by a throe of an-
gufsh known as the "death-agony." This is believed to occur
at that moment when the spiritual and physical forces that
have been so intimately blended for many years are torn asun-
der, the one to molder and decay, the other to take upon itself
that new life beyond the ken of man.

This last element properly belongs to the physiologist, and
as such we propose to consider it. Sir Francis Bacon, in one

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 225

of his essays, published for the first time in the year 1577, gave
to the world the following profound thought: ''It is as nat-
ural to die as to be born, and to the little infant, perhaps,
the one is as painful as the other." In profundity of thought
and depth of research Bacon stepped in advance of his con-
temporaries, and lived in the future. Thus we find that, con-
trary to the generally received opinion of even this latter day,
Nature evidently designed that the end of man should be as
painless as his beginning.

At birth the babe undergoes an ordeal that, were he con-
scious, would be more trying than a most painful death; yet
he feels it not. Born in an unconscious state, the brain in-
capable of receiving conscious impressions, his entrance into
this hitherto unknown world is accomplished during a state of
oblivion, known as Nature's anaesthesia:

*' Painlessly we come, whence we know not —
Painlessly we go, whence we know not! "

From the earliest period of history death has been con-"
sidered as necessarily accompanied by pain; so general is this
belief, that the terms *' death-agony," *'last struggle," ''pangs
of death," etc., have been in almost universal use in every age
and under all conditions of society.

Nothing could be more erroneous; the truth is, pain and
death seldom go together — we mean the last moments of life.
Of course, death may be preceded by weeks or even months
of extreme suffering, as occurs during certain incurable dis-
eases.

So exaggerated has been this notion that it has been con-
sidered an act of humanity to anticipate the "death-struggle"
by violence; for ages it was customary among the lower classes
of Europe to hasten death by suddenly jerking the pillow from
beneath the head of the dying, thus throwing the head back-
wards, straining the pharyngeal and thoracic muscles, render-
ing the respiration, already difficult, shortly impossible. A
Venetian embassador, in the time of Queen Mary, asserted
that it was a common custom among the country people to
smother the dying by means of a pillow placed over the face,
upon which leaned or sat the nearest relative. This was
founded upon the pious belief that a short road was the best
one. This custom was handed down from generation to gen-

226 THE EN CYC L OP J^ VI A OE DEA TH

eration, parents performing it for their children, and vice versa.
But, perhaps, the saddest privilege ever allowed the near
friends of a dying man occasionally occurred during the reign
of Queen Elizabeth, when through executive clemency — in ex-
ecutions by hanging — they were permitted to grasp the feet of
the suspended criminal, and by clinging to the extremities,
precipitate their additional weight on the body, thereby has-
tening strangulation. It is needless to say that these theories
are false in both conception and practice. Death is a physio-
logical process, and like all other animal functions should be
painless.

When the fiat of death went forth, Nature kindly pro-
vided an anaesthetic for the body. As the end of life draws
near, the respirations become slow and shallow, interrupted
now and then by a deep, sighing inspiration, as though the
lungs were vainly endeavoring to throw off the palsy creeping
over them. As the intervals between the inspirations grow
longer, the blood becomes saturated with carbonic-acid gas —
the same as that formed from burning charcoal, whose deadly
fumes have so often aided the suicide to painlessly destroy
life.

While the power of breathing is gradually failing, the
heart, which is in close sympathy with the lungs, begins to
contract with less force, propelling the blood only a short dis-
tance through its arterial channels, thus causing the extrem-
ities to grow cold.

The blood sent to the brain is not only diminished in
quantity, but is laden with carbonic-acid gas, which, acting on
the nervous centers, produces a gradual benumbing of the
cerebral ganglia, thereby destroying both consciousness and
sensation. The patient gradually sinks into a deep stupor, the
lips become purple, the face cold and livid, cold perspiration
(death-damp) collects on the forehead, a film creeps over the
cornea, and, with or without convulsions, the dying man sinks
into his last sleep. As the power of receiving conscious im-
pressions is gone, the death-struggle must be automatic. Even
in those cases where the senses are retained to the last, the
.mind is usually calm and collected, and the body free from pain.

*'If I had strength to hold a pen, I would write how easy
and delightful it is to die!" were the last words of the cele-
brated surgeon, William Hunter; and Louis XIV. is recorded

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 227

as saying with his last breath, "I thought dying had been more
difficult."

That the painlessness of death is due to some benumbing
influence, acting on the sensory nerves, may be inferred from
the fact that untoward external surroundings rarely trouble the
dying.

On the day that Lord Collingw^ood breathed his last, the
Mediterranean was tumultuous; those elements which had been
the scene of his past glories rose and fell in swelling undula-
tions, and seemed as if rocking him asleep. Captain Thomas
ventured to ask if he was disturbed by the tossing of the ship.
"No, Thomas," he answered, *'I am now in a state that noth-
ing can disturb me more — I am dying; and I am sure it must
be consolatory to you, and all that love me, to see how com-
fortably I am coming to my end." In the Quarte7'Iy Review
there is related an instance of a criminal who escaped death
from hanging, by the breaking of the rope. Henry IV. of
France sent his physician to examine him, who reported that
after a moment's suffering the man saw an appearance like fire,
across which appeared a most beautiful avenue of trees. When
a pardon was mentioned, the prisoner coldly replied that it was
not worth asking for. Those who have been near death from
drowning, and afterward restored to consciousness, assert that
the dying suffer but little pain. Captain Marryat states that
his sensations at one time when nearly drowned were rather
pleasant than otherwise. " The first struggle for life once over,
the water closing round me assumed the appearance of waving,
green fields. * * * It is not a feeling of pain, but seems
like sinking down, overpowered by sleep, in the long, soft
grass of the cool meadow."

Now, this is precisely the condition presented in death
from disease. Insensibility soon comes on, the mind loses con-
sciousness of external objects, and death rapidly and placidly
ensues from asphyxia.

In spite of the natural antagonism to death, a moment's re-
flection will show that it is as much a physiological process as
life; the two terms are correlative, the degree of vital activity
depending on the extent of molecular death occurring at the
same time. Strange as the paradox may seem, without death
we cannot live; every thought emanating from the brain, every
blow struck by the arm, is accompanied by destruction of nerv-

228 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

ous or muscular tissue. The bioplasmatic or living matter of
Beal, which enters into the formation of every animal tissue,
is constantly germinating into cells (the origin of all life), and
as constantly passing into decay, their places being taken by
other protoplasts, thus keeping up the '' active dance of life."

The disassimilation or interstitial death occurs to such an
extent that Nature, in her wisdom, has provided excrementory
organs for the purpose of removing from the S3^stem the effete
material thus produced. Every living structure, after passing
through certain stages of development, maturity, and finally
retrogression, must come to an end. This may be but the
ephemeral existence of some of the lower forms of fungi, which,
born in the cool of the morning, die as the sun goes down; or,
like the famous dragon-tree of Teneriffe, may outlast the pyra-
mids that keep watch by the Nile.

The last topic for consideration is the pseudopia of death,
or visions of the dying. It is not an uncommon occurrence for
the dying, after lying some hours in a semi-conscious condition,
to start up suddenly, and, with glowing face, point eagerly to
some object invisible to the bystanders, and with animated
voice and gesture state that they behold the glories of heaven,
or the familiar countenance of some friend long since dead.

The question naturally arises as to whether these visions
are merely the fantasies of a disordered and fast-disorganizing
brain; or are the dying actually permitted a momentary view of
those mysteries hitherto unknown?

The traditions and superstitions of the past have led to a
popular belief in the latter theory. Shakespeare expressed the
sentiment of his day when he placed in the mouth of the dying
Queen Katharine these words:

*' Saw you not even now a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me like the sun? "

Science, with its iconoclastic hand, has swept away these
pleasing fancies [Not so, Mr. Spencer, nor can it do so.], and
in their places has constructed a fabric founded on analogy.
In the anaesthesia induced by chloroform, a condition is pro-
duced closely resembling, that immediately preceding death
(caused by the carbonic-acid poisoning), in which visions are
constantly presented to the mind, the character of which de-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 229

pends upon the natural temperament of the individual. Thus
it often occurs that a patient, when under the influence of
chloroform, has beatific visions [and they are often true in all
respects] similar to those of the dying. It is my fortune to
have at present a patient who invariably, when under the in-
fluence of chloroform, asserts that she sees angels [and she
probably does] hovering around her bed. The impression is
so strong that she becomes much annoyed if the reality of these
visions is disputed. The asphyxia produced by burning char-
coal is ofttimes accompanied by disturbed fancies, similar to
those preceding death, and the natural inference is that they
are the result in both cases of one and the same cause. [Not
so always, for in such cases it often happens that latent me-
diumship is brought out.] During the last moments of life,
the mind gradually loses cognizance of external surroundings,
and is rapt in self-contemplation. Though still in a semi-
conscious condition, the weeping of friends and the voices of
attendants fall upon dull ears. The eyelids are closed, the
pupils slightly contracted and rolled upward and inward. The
dying man has forgotten the present, for he is living in the
past. One by one the events of a whole life appear, its joys
and sorrows, perchance long since forgotten, rise before him
in startling distinctness, and then disappear in the swiftly
moving panorama. The familiar faces of the friends of his
youth are thrown upon the mental retina, their cheery voices
reverberate in his ears, and the thought of meeting these
friends in the near future is perhaps his last conscious impres-
sion. As this drowsiness creeps over the system, these images,
molded. from the past, become as realities to the disordered
imagination. The germs from which originate these strange
combinations have probably been lying dormant for years in
the registering ganglia of the brain.

Dreams never surprise us, no matter how strange the
scenery presented, or how great the violation of truth and
reality; so it is in this last great vision of life. What wonder
that a dream so vivid should be carried into action? The brain,
with a convulsive effort, sends the message through the system,
the muscles spring into activity, and the dying man, with out-
stretched arms, calls the attention of the awe-stricken bystanders
to these fantasies [they are not always fantasies; often actual
realities] of his ownb rain. Thus some pass away as though

230 THE ENCYCL O F.ED LA OF DEA FH

falling asleep; others with a sigh, groan, or gasp; and some
with a convulsive struggle.

These death-bed visions are comparatively of frequent
occurrence, and are generally accepted as realities [and many
times they are w^hat they are claimed to be]. The theory which
we promulgate, though not new, will naturally excite prejudice;
but it is better to know the truth than to cherish a belief, how-
ever pleasing it be, founded on error.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 231

Life ai\6 DealK TKoa«^KtFally |fli\alyzed.

PROCESS OF DYING, REAL AND APPARENT.

DEFINITION OF LIFE — ORGANIC TRANSMUTATIONS THE ANIMAL

FUNCTIONS IN MAN THE HUMAN BLOOD POST-MORTEM VES-
ICATION PUTREFACTION AND RIGIDITY THE FLAME OF A CAN-
DLE DRINKING GLASS OR GOBLET, AND THE LESSON WHICH IS

CONVEYED THEREBY.

A satisfactory definition of life should express conditions
involved in every phase of vital development, but never iden-
tified with any mode of inanimate existence. The transmuta-
tion represents one such fundamental distinction between an-
imate and inanimate objects; for, although some inorganic
combinations possess a degree of permutability consistent with
substantial integrity, this in particular cases is always uniform
in character and limited in extent. Ice, for example, may be-
come successively changed into the liquid and gaseous state
without chemical decomposition, but there is an intrinsic limit
to such permutation, for under similar circumstances of press-
ure, at an unalterable fixed elevation of temperature, it inva-
riably becomes resolved into simpler constituents.

There are apparently no such inherent restrictions to or-
ganic transmutations, which may be perpetuated indefinitely,
under appropriate supplementary conditions, without percep-
tible intrinsic exhaustion. Yet organisms are never sufficiently
independent to spontaneously evolve such progressive results,
but require the constant accession of extrinsic energy to de-
velop their inckided potentialities.

The sun is the physical source of extraneous energy for

*l)r. William Frascr, iu Popular Scieuce Moutbly, Vol. 18, No. 3.

232 THE ENCYCL OP^EDIA OF DBA TH

every species of vital change occurring on the earth's surface,
as through the immediate agency of its rays vegetables are en-
abled to abstract from the surrounding medium those elements
adapted to their special needs; and, although animals cannot
thus directly appropriate solar energy, yet they are enabled to
utilize it by the assimilation of certain of these vegetable prod-
ucts which it has previously served to elaborate.

As all the progressive transmutations which indispensably
constitute individual life are dependent on the constant incretion
of material energy, integration is also a universal concomitant
of vitality, so that for practical purposes life may be provision-
ally defined as the continuous individual integration and dif-
ferentiation of material energy.

While these two correlated processes pertain to every
variety of life, the physiological expedients by which their re-
spective activities are sustained must vary in conformity with
the specific requirements of different structures. A simple
unit of protoplasm effects all its vital purposes through direct
interchange with its environment, without the necessity of any
intermediate provision. But, in higher organisms, life is in-
dissolubly associated with certain accessory processes, and, in
these cases, though the molecular interactions on which its
essential attributes immediately depend are directly impercep-
tible, yet it is possible to prove its existence or non-existence
by sensibly demonstrating the presence or absence of these
its inseparable concomitants.

Man with his powers unimpaired manifests his vitality
in unmistakable terms, but conditions not incompatible with re-
suscitation may occur wherein all his functions are so reduced
as to be directly imperceptible. In such cases, to prevent pre-
mature burial, it is important to discover some sign absolutely
diagnostic of real or apparent death.

An essential characteristic of living bodies is their power
of actively maintaining a degree of varying integrity of con-
stitution in opposition to destructive influences. This requires
the incorporation of extraneous materials and their conversion
into definite specific structures, and always involves the imme-
diate apposition of ingredients, as well as a reciprocal state of
the parts to be nourished. Although such intimate reciproca-
tion of living structures and nutrient materials must always
exist, the means whereby it is effected varies exceedingly in

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 233

different instances. In the lower order of beings it is accom-
plished very simply, the medium which they inhabit offering
directly the requisite pabulum, which their own condition en-
ables them to assimilate without any preparatory elaboration.
In more complex organisms a definite correlation of parts is
necessary to elaborate the crude materials of food, as well as
to bring them into immediate relation with the various tissues.

In some simple forms vital action may be suspended in-
definitely by desiccation, being restorable by moisture, and
even in some higher cold-blooded animals a state of temporary
negation may be induced by congelation, the vital powers re-
turning concurrently with the absorption of heat. In man it is
quite different; the animal functions may be suspended, and
even some of the organic processes interrupted, without ex-
tinguishing life, but there are certain of his functions the ces-
sation of which for a limited period must inevitably cause
death.

As to their vital significance, man's functions may be
classified into essential and supplemental — the former includ-
ing such as cannot be discontinued beyond a brief interval
without fatal consequences, the latter such as may be sus-
pended or even destroyed without involving general dissolu-
tion. Thus, although sight is important to comfort, it may be
lost without affecting vitality; the hepatic function may be
vicariously performed; even the renal secretion may be sus-
pended for a considerable period without death; but the com-
plete cessation of any of the essential functions of circulation,
innervation, or respiration, must be speedily followed by such
a result. By the circulatory forces, a constant flow of blood
is directed to and from all the parts; by the nervous system an
alternating effect is produced on the tissue-elements, whereby
at one time they assimilate, at another disintegrate; by the
respiratory apparatus, certain of the resultant products are
incessantly eliminated. These three complemental functions
are so independent that the complete interruption of either
necessarily leads to arrestment of all, and consequent death.

Human blood is of a highly complex nature, as through
it the textures receive all the materials adequate to their con-
tinued maintenance and repair. Its chemical composition is
never definite, varying in different individuals and in the same

234 THE ENC YCL OP^DIA OE BE A Til

individual on different occasions. The relative uniformity,
however, of some of its physical characters is indispensable
to its vital efficiency. It is semi-solid, containing innumerable
white and red corpuscles, the latter constituting nearly one-
half its mass. The absolute number of these corresponds with
the degree of general vitality; their local aggregation fluct-
uates with varying contingencies.

This fluid is the seat of two distinct modes of motion— a
sensible circulation through the heart and vessels, and a sub-
tiler interchange with tissue-elements. Several causes con-
spire towards its circulatory mass-motion, the heart's action
being a sine qua nan. The molecular motions being invisible,
an explanation of their modus operandi must be partly hypo-
thetical. There are, however, certain associated pKenomena
admitting of direct observation under certain circumstances
which serve to throw light on the physico-vital relations ot the
blood. Thus, besides its general distribution, it is subject to
local variations in the total quantity of its mass, and in the
relative proportion of its various constituents. As there are
means of artificially exciting preternatural activity of the cir-
culation to a recognizable extent, in parts open to observation,
during the minimum degree of vitality, such a possibility af-
fords a reliable method of infallibly deciding in any particular
case as to the existence or non-existence of this vital process.

Tissues are divisible into vascular and non-vascular, ac-
cording to the mode and extent of their nutritive supply. The
latter, being destitute of capillaries, receive their nourishment
from the neighboring vessels by endosmosis. The former are
pervaded by those minute vessels, which admit red corpuscles
in a lesser or greater number, according to the degree of
functional exaltation. The cutis vera being a superficial vas-
cular tissue, the excessive accumulation of red corpuscles in
its capillaries is readily perceived by the consequent floridity
of surface. Such sensible reaction to direct irritation implies
the concurrence of several determinate acts in the structures
directly involved, as well as the co-operation of more remote
parts. Thus the tissue-elements must possess a responsive
power to become exalted in function, and to solicit a sur-
plus of blood ingredients they must also retain a continuity
with the presiding nerve-center, whereby the peripheral im-
pression may be centripetally transmitted along the afferent

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 235

nerve to this point, thence reflected along the vaso-motor
nerve, causing relaxation of the arteriolar muscles, enlarge-
ment of caliber, and a freer flow of blood into the part. Car-
diac contractions are also necessary to propel the corpuscles
into the capillaries, as the attraction of the tissue-elements for
these minute bodies can act only at insensible distances.

Man's structure conceals the changes which occur within
the minute blood-vessels, but some animals admit the exam-
ination of the interior processes which accompany and con-
duce to the external manifestations of capillary congestion.
Observing the circulation in the web of the frog's foot under
the microscope, fluctuations in its current are noticed inde-
pendent of the heart's action. The corpuscles, perhaps flow-
ing uniformly at first, may slacken their speed, then oscillate
or even retrograde. Apply an irritant to the part, the flow
soon increases, and a greater number of red corpuscles pass
through in a given time; they also show a tendency to cohere
as well as to adhere to the walls of the vessels, which may
proceed so far as to choke up their caliber and prevent the
transmission of blood. As the effect passes off, the corpuscles
gradually separate, move on, and at length circulation resumes
its normal state. Such investigation explains the nature of
the changes which occur in the capillaries of the human skin
under artificial stimulation.

Heat, which is the most potent and available form of irri-
tant, when applied to the skin so as to considerably elevate its
temperature above the normal point, causes first an efflores-
cence of surface, deeper at the center and shading off grad-
ually toward the circumference. This redness can be tempo-
rarily displaced, leaving a white impression, which disappears
on removal of the pressure, the part resuming its floridity with
a rapidity commensurate with the activity of the capillary cir-
culation. By increasing the heat or prolonging its action the
color becomes more distinct, till at the point of greatest in-
tensity the cuticle becomes detached from its subjacent cutis
by the gradual exudation and accumulation of a fluid which
thus forms a true vesicle. A spurious vesicle may be similarly
produced on the dead subject, but such is a purely ph3^sical
arid local effect, entirely different from the more comprehen-
sive action and characters of the physiological process.

In post-mortetn vesication the contents are generally gas-

\

236 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

eoLis from decomposition, and even if fluid, from infiltration in
an (^edematous or dependent part, this is always serum, unlike
the vital fibrino-albuminous solution coagulable by heat. The
pathognomonic distinction, however, is the difference pre-
sented by the underlying cutis on removing the loosely adhe-
rent cuticle. This, after death, has an unalterable yellowish
white, crisp, horny appearance, in obvious contrast to the
efflorescence of vital active congestion, which can be repeat-
edly displaced and renewed by recurrent pressure.

Although circulation is a vital necessity, the chemical
products of its activity would of themselves speedily destroy
life except for the concurrent exercise of the respiratory and
other functions.

Tissues, such as the nervo-muscular, which perform some
specific action, may be classed as active in contrast to passive,
such as the osseo-fibrous, which merely subserve some me-
chanical office. When the ultimate particles of passive tissues
are fully developed, they remain in that state for a longer or
shorter period, and then gradually decay. Active tissues,
during their development, appropriate a store of energy which,
at maturity, they are capable of instantly expending in the
manifestation of their special powers. Such exertions are in-
evitably attended by degradative transformations of their ma-
terial elements. Cardiac movements and their associated vital
co-ordinations involve the expenditure of nervo-muscular en-
ergy, and consequent production of simpler compounds, such
as carbonic acid, the undue retention of which in the blood
would cause certain death. Such a fatal contingency is pre-
vented by the circulatory forces propelling the carbonized
blood into the pulmonary capillaries, where an interchange
with the oxygen of the air takes place through the intervening
membrane till the vesicles become surcharged with carbonic
acid, which is then expelled by the expiratory forces through
the anterior openings of the air-passages, where its detention
is evidence of vitality, while its utter absence under adequate
tests is undeniable proof of the opposite condition. For,
though certain cold-blooded animals can exhale a sufficient
quantity of this product through their skin to permit a re-
duced vitality, in man such a cutaneous ^ transpiration is ex-
ceedingly minute and altogether inadequate to the mainten-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 237

ance of life, and it may continue even after death as a merely
physical property of tissue.

Innervation is blended with and controls all the vital op-
eration, sbeing conspicuously implicated v^ith muscular con-
traction, an act primarily concerned in the various movements
of respiration and circulation. The frequently-repeated trans-
mission of intense electric currents is the most powerful stim-
ulus of contractility, and, when such a measure fails to excite
contraction in muscles essential to life, death must have oc-
""curred.

When rigidity and putrefaction are actually established,
they may be accepted as infallible post-mortem indications.
The former state arises from the muscles and other soft tis-
sues becoming so stiffened as to resist flexion of the joints, the
muscles of the lower jaw and neck being generally first in-
volved, those of the lower extremity last. It might possibly
be confounded with stiffening from extreme cold or spasms;
but frozen limbs yield a creaking noise when forcibly flexed,
from breakage of the congealed moisture, and spasmodic con-
traction resumes its morbid position on removal of the cor-
recting force. Not ?>o post-mortem rigidity.

Putrefaction succeeds rigidity as a bluish green tint of
skin, commencing usually on the lower part of the abdomen
and spreading over the body. Similar gangrenous appear-
ances may occur during life, but, besides their more circum-
scribed extent, the invariable presence of a line of displaceable
redness at the confines of the living tissues is a constant and
characteristic distinction.

The desideratum, however, is some infallible proof of
death whereby this state can at once be decided without w^ait-
ing for the more tardy supervention of these positively /^i-/-
mortem phenomena.

Neither the cadaveric aspect nor coldness and lividity of
surface are constant or unequivocal signs. The cessation of
the heart's action beyond five minutes is undoubted evidence,
but it is impossible to acoustically determine this with abso-
lute certainty, even when aided by the stethoscope, as the
sense of hearing may be fallacious in delicate cases. Neither
is the imperceptibility of the respiratory movements of the
chest perfectly decisive. Conclusions from experiments on
the eyes, by trying to excite the pupillary muscles by phys-

238 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

iological agents, or by examining the fundus with the opthal-
moscope so as to observe certain changes supposed to be
essentially post-mortem, are invalidated by the comparative un-
importance of these organs to general vitality. The same un-
certainty holds as to the effects produced by tightly ligaturing
a limb, as there might be complete occlusion of its vessels and
consequent arrest of its circulation without necessarily fatal
results. The changes induced in a polished needle inserted
deeply into the living tissues may be closely simulated by
non-vital causes. Circumstances might also obscure the dif-
ference between the contents of vital 2ind post-mo?'tc?H vesica-
tion.

The possibility of absolutely deciding, in doubtful cases,
as to the presence or absence of vitality depends on the pos-
session of artificial means wherewith to sensibly demonstrate
the minimum activity of each of the essejitially vital processes,
the utter negation of the various specific reactions under their
appropriate tests being infallible evidence of death. The dif-
ferent available measures vary in their degree of simplicity and
facility of application, but the results are all equally conclusive.

The validity of the respiratory tests results from the fact
that even during the most reduced state of vitality carbonic
acid is perpetually generated in the system, and extricated
therefrom through specially adapted air-passages, where its
escape can invariably be detected by proper appliances.

Allowing a few hours to elapse after apparent death, so
that an equilibrium may be established between the carbonic
acid in the air-chambers and the atmospheric air, if death is
real the amount of this product exhaled from the anterior
opening of the air-passages will exactly correspond with that
transpiring from an equal area of the skin; but, if the slightest
vital action continues, the proportion thus expired in a given
time will far exceed the whole cutaneous transpiration. Col-
lecting it at its point of exit, by a suitable contrivance, into a
small transparent vessel containing clear lime-water, its merest
presence, in contrast to any other reagent, will change this
fluid at once, on shaking, into an opaque, milky solution.

The innervation test is rendered practicable through the
inseparable connection of this attribute with muscular contrac-
tion; for, even if contractility is inherent in muscle, its excitation
is possible only through the incorporation of nerve-elements.

AND LIFE IN THE ."SPIRIT- WORLD. 239

As this manik'statiou of nervo-muscular energy can always be
sensibly excited by electrification during the persistence of the
feeblest vitality, the utter failure to obtain such a result in
parts the activity of which is essential to life, affords conclusive
evidence of vital extinction. The respiratory arrangement of
the glottis presents a favorable opportunity for prosecuting this
special mode of experiment. At every inspiration the contrac-
tions of the associated muscles stretch and separate the vocal
cords, thus nearly doubling the area of aperture. In expira-
tion the muscles relax, allowing the parts by their elasticity to
resume their natural collapsed appearance. These changes
can be observed by placing the body before a bright light, and
introducing a laryngoscope well back into the pharynx, so as
to bring the superior laryngeal aperture into view. After death
the rima glottidis presents the elongated, narrow form, from
the close approximation of its cords. If, under the repeated
transmission of intense electric currents, properly directed,
there is no responsive contraction so as to sensibly widen the
aperture, death is certain.

The circulatory test, or the attempt to excite an actively
congested state of the cutaneous capillaries, is pre-eminently
the best, as it requires only simple and easily procurable appli-
ances, which always yield decisive results either in the living
or dead subject. The application of heat and the act of cup-
ping are both effective topical means for perceptibl}^ arousing
this preternatural activity of the cutaneous circulation, even in
the most languid condition of the system compatible with
vitality. The entire absence of such distinctive physiological
reactions and the occurrence of merely physical alterations,
under the proper use of these respective measures, is undeniable
proof of death. Over the heart is the most suitable region
whereon to operate, as there the skin longest retains its vital
warmth; but corroborative experiments may be performed over
other parts of the trunk.

Hold the flame of a candle close to {but not in contact witJi)
the skin sufficiently long* to render the cuticle easily detachable
from its subjacent connections; if the body is dead, the parts
beneath will present a crisp, yellowish-white, horny appearance,
unaffected by pressure; if alive, there will be readily perceptible
a vital redness, distinguishable from all post-mortein discolora-
tions by its repeated displacement and reappearance under

240 7HE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

alternating pressure by tip of the finger or otherwise. Exposing
the part to a bright light, and examining it through a magnify-
ing-glass, will render the different phenomena more evident.

Kindle a piece of paper soaked in any alcoholic liquor, put
it in an ordinary drinking-glass or goblet, and invert this over
a part of the cutaneous surface where all its edge will come
into accurate contact with the skin; if there remains a mimmum
degree of vitality, a state of superficial capillary congestion will
be induced, with its unmistakably recurrent characters; whereas
the absolute inability to excite such vital reaction in any part
of the trunk's surface, and the production of solely physical
effects by such potent agencies, are infallible evidence that all
vital correlations are irreparably destroyed.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 241

Is iKe Process oFDyiiv^ PaiivFal.

. DEATH IN ITSELF CAUSES NO SUFFERING.

ALL DEATH MOLECULAR THE DEATH OF DRUNKARDS — LIVING IN

THE FIRE FORTY-FIVE MINUTES DEATH IN THE FLAMES

AFTER DYING WHAT? WHEN DEATH OCCURS THE TEARS

DYING BY ASPHYXIA WHEN DEATH IS COMPLETE.

*Death in itself is painless. The disease or accident lead-
ing to death may cause the keenest anguish, but death itself is
painless. This must be so: if it were not, we would be in pain
all our lives, since there is not a moment when death is not
occurring within us — molecular death — and there is no death
in the universe which is not finally molecular. No man ever
feels death, for the senses fail as life recedes, and the struggle
for breath is without pain. It is true that persons frequently
die in a state of bodily torture. Drunkards dying in mania a
potu are haunted to the last by terrific visions, and a man may
die w4th a heart so oppressed with guilt and remorse that the
light of heaven is transformed into darkness, and the common
air peopled with demons; but all such phenomena are those of
disease, and not of death. It is not certain that death at the
stake is intensely painful, after the first scorch of the flame. In
a curious article on the "Curiosities of Death," Mr. Dodge
speaks of the endurance of Bishops Hooper and Ridley.
Bishop Hooper lived in the fire forty-five minutes, and died
with perfect calmness. His legs were charred, and his body
blistered before the pile was entirely ignited, the wind blowing
the flames aside. Ridley at first struggled in agony, but after-
wards became quiet, as if the sense of pain was gone. Robert
Smith, being well-nigh half burned and clustered together like

•Dr. Frederick R. Marviu, in '• Truth Seeker.'

242 THE ENCYCL OPJEDIA^OF DBA TH

black coals, suddenly rose upright before the crowd. He lifted
his arms as if in defiance of his enemies and clapped his hands
together. It is a popular belief that sensibility remains a time
after decapitation. The belief is fallacious. Bounafont had
ready near the guillotine, under which two Arabs were to be
executed, vessels with pulverized plaster placed on a low
table. His friend associated with the experiment was provided
with a small speaking-trumpet and a short pointed probe. At
the instant the first head fell, it was placed in one of the vessels
containing the plaster, in order to arrest hemorrhage. The
speaking-trumpet was then applied to the ear of the head, and
the man's name shouted through it, but there was neither mo-
tion of the eyelids nor corrugation of the brow; the eyes were
dull and motionless, the complexion colorless, the expression
of the face not indicative of pain. Neither were the muscles
contracted upon being pierced with the tube. With the second
head the results were the same. The syncope induced by the
severance of the large arteries instantly produced death.
^^ The lighting up before death, so often noticed in patients
who have remained sometimes for weeks in a semi-unconscious
condition, is often referred to psychological causes, when, in
reality, it is due to the presence of venous blood in the brain,
caused by the non-arterialization of the blood. Thus the mind
often dwells on visions of coming glory or shame, and con-
templates heaven or hell. Shakespeare makes Queen Cath-
erine, in Henry VHL, say: *'Saw you not even now a blessed
troop invite me to a banquet, whose bright faces cast a thou-
sand beams upon me like the sun; they promised me eternal
happiness, and brought me garlands, my Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear."

The same phenomena mark the rise and decline of life.
The circulation of the blood first announces existence, and
ceases last. The right auricle pulsates first and does not cease
until death. The mind loses the faculty of association; judg-
ment gives place to recollection, and the senses vanish, as we
have seen, in succession. The ruling passion, though con-
cealed from infancy, is revealed in the hour of death, and the
thoughts of boyhood bound into the sunset of declining age.

At the moment of death there become disengaged from
venous blood certain gases which are normally confined therein,
and which form a pneumatosis — a swelling of the veins. This

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 243

action in the veins of the retina, says Mr. Bongchut, is easily
appreciable by the ophthalmoscope, and constitutes an imme-
diate and certain sign of death. The pneumatosis is induced
by the interruption of the column of blood, and is comparable
to that observed in an interrupted column of a colored alcohol
thermometer. .

A few hours after death, generally from seven to ten, a
rigidity takes possession of the body. This rigidity, which
physicians call rigor mortis, is not confined to the muscles, but
is manifested in the blood-vessels and heart. The rigidity may
be removed for a few hours by the injection into the arteries oi
the corpse of oxygenated defibrinated blood. If the body be
uninterfered with, the rigidity will disappear after thirty-six or
forty hours, when the body will be as pliable as at the moment
of death. If the body be weakened or emaciated, from great
suffering, or long sickness, the rigidity comes on sooner, but
does not last so long. Physicians are not agreed as to the
cause of this rigidity.

As the rigidity passes away, the beauty so peculiar to the
human face in death, becomes more and more manifest, and is
nearest perfection three days after death.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PROCESS OF DYING— WHAT?

The "undertaker's plea that bodies cannot be preserved un-
less they are immediately put away in ice is a mistake. It is
a device for making exorbitant fees out of poor people as well
as rich.

^^ After death there are three stages in the processes of de-
composition," says Dr. Vanderpool, of New York City. *'On
the first day the features and the flesh are sunken in and the
pallid shade of death is very ghastly. On the second day
there is an improved look in every respect and the remains
lose a part of the pallor of the first day. On the third day the
flesh becomes full again, the skin' clears up and the natural
hue of life returns to a degree that in some cases is almost
startling. At the end of this period discoloration sets in and
decomposition does its work with great rapidity if the weather
be warm. But these changes can be postponed without dif-
ficulty by the proper use of a very little ice on the stomach
and some diluted carbolic acid sprayed into the nostrils. In
1848, when the modern ice boxes were unknown, I kept the

244 THE ENCYCLOPAiDIA OF DEATH

body of my mother four days in the hottest summer weather
of July." Dr. Vanderpool complained of the general and
growing practice of undertakers, without proper medical ed-
ucation, putting people into ice and freezing them beyond all
possible recovery before the bodies had time to cool naturally.
He thought that physicians, the board of health and the law
should take measures to put a stop to such proceedings.
There was no necessity for the practice, no excuse for it, ex-
cept the sordid anxiety of the undertaker to make an exorbi-
tant fee. He strongly favored the Neurological Society, -which,
he understood, was making efforts to have a medical expert
especially detailed to investigate each case of reported death
and to make a scientific examination as to whether the doctors
themselves might not have erred and issued certificates before
the vital spark of life had really fled

THE HOURS AT WHICH DEATH OCCURS.

In a paper contributed by Dr. Lawson to tlie West-Rid-
ing Asylum Medical Reports, England, for 1874, several inter-
esting observations are recorded regarding the number of
deaths which occur during the different hours of the day.
Following up the researches of Schneider and others, who had
shown that the greatest number of deaths take place during
the ante-meridian hours, Dr. Lawson has been able to de-
termine more closely the time of day when the greatest and
least number of deaths occur. Supplementing the statistics
of other institutions by those of the West-Riding Asylum, he
finds that deaths from chronic diseases are more numerous be-
tween the hours of eight and ten in the morning than an\'
other time of the day, while they are fewest between the hours
of eight and ten in the evening. In the case of acute diseases,
such as continued fevers, pneumonia, etc., a different result
has been obtained. Following up what had been pointed out
by other authorities. Dr. Lawson shows that the largest num-
ber of deaths from this class of diseases takes place either in
the early morning, when the powers of life are at their lowest,
or in the afternoon, when acute disease is most active. The
occurrence of these definite daily variations in the hourly
death rate is shown, in the case of chronic diseases, to be de-
pendent on recurring variations in the energies of organic life;
and in the case of acute diseases the cause is ascribed either

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 245

to the existence of a well-marked daily extreme of bodily de-
pression, or a daily maximum intensity of acute disease.

A DYING MAN SHEDS NO TEARS.

*It appears that in the act and article of dissolution, the
sight that, pierces ether, faints and fails and fades, and tasteis
dead, and touch is dead, and tongue, and feeling, and smell,
all are dead. Not so the ear; It survives them all, for it is the
last sense that dies; and it is the repeated testimony of those
who have returned to life from the furthest limits beyond, that
the whole atmosphere seemed to be filled with sounds so rav-
ishing as to be indescribable by mortal words. It has been
testified to by persons who have been droAvned, and then
brought to, that the very last perception was that of delightful
music.

A dying man sheds no tears. He calls his wife and chil-
dren, his parents, his best friends, to his bedside, and, though
tear-drops rain from every eye, the contamination of tears
never comes to him, never the one falls down his cheek. This
is because the manufactories of life have stopped forever; the
human machine has run down at last; every gland of the sys-
tem has ceased its functions, and that is why death steps in,
and, like a remorseless sheriff, takes pos ession and stops
everything. In almost all diseases, the liver is the first man-
ufactory that stops work; one by one the others follow, and
all the fountains of life are, at length, dried up; there is no
secretion anywhere; the lips and tongue, how dry, as we have
all seen; the skin, how dry; or, if moistened by the damp of
death, it is from mechanical causes. So the eye in death
weeps not; not that all affection is dead in the heart, but be-
cause there is not a tear-drop in it, any more than there is
moisture on the lip, which undying affection, when it can do
nothing else, laves incesssantly with the little mop, or feather.

There is one sign of approaching dissolution. We have
never seen it alluded to, and yet we have never seen it fail.
When the extremities are cold, and the head, the very last
part to lose all power of motion, is turned incessantly and
quickly and restlessly from one side on the pillow to the
other, death comes within an hour. It is worth the effort of a

♦Hall's Journal of Health.

246 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

lifetime to be able to die well, to die at a good old age, in
peace with all mankind, and in a well-grounded faith of an im-
mortal life beyond.

DYING AS VIEWED BY A SPIRITUALIST LECTURER.

In the funeral service of a Spiritualist in Hartford, Conn.,
Mrs. Emma J. Bullene preached a sermon in which she said:
*' In some cases the separation of the spiritual from the physical
part is much more speedy and complete at the minute of death
than it is in others. In cases of sudden and violent death, in
full health, the process is slower, and often, in such cases, the
soul has not severed its connection with the body for more than
an hour after death has apparently taken place. To the sub-
ject himself death is exactly like a deep sleep. There is an
interval of unconsciousness, during which the process of the
separation of this fine spiritual part from the body is taking
place. It rises like a silvery light, or luminous, magnetic mist,
out of the brain, and is at first seemingly vague and unformed,
but rapidly re-forms above the abandoned body, and develops
into a perfectly-formed spirit — the same features we knew in
the body, but more refined and beautiful. In cases of wasting
sickness, the separation begins much earlier."

THE MIND DURING DEATH BY STARVATION.

N. E. Davies, in an article in the Popular Science Monthly,
says: The recent case of cannibalism at sea opens up some
curious questions as to the effects of fasting on the moral nature
of man. To the superficial observer, death by starvation simply
means a wasting of the body, a horrible agony, an increasing
weakness, a lethargic state of the brain, and a sleep from which
there is no awakening; but is this all that it means? While
this is going on, let us consider whether or not the intellectual
faculty, and with it the power of distinguishing right from
wrong, is not also undergoing a process of wasting and death,
even before that of the material part, for, however dangerous
it may be to received opinions to associate the material nature
of brain with the moral nature of our being, we are bound to
do so to elucidate some of the facts connected with this case.

Reasoning by analogy, we find that, in many cases of bodily
disease, the state of the mind is the first indicator of the mis-
chief going on in the system. Take even such a simple thing

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 247

ds indigestion, which, as every one must know, is only a man-
ifestation of a deranged stomach, and what do we find? That
the lowness of spirits induced by this affection may vary from
slight dejection and ill-humor to the most extreme melancholy,
sometimes inducing even a disposition to suicide. The sufferer
misconceives every act of friendship, and exaggerates slight
ailments into heavy grievances. So in starvation, the power
of reason seems paralyzed and the intellectual faculty dazed
really before the functions of the body suffer, or even the
wasting of its tissue becomes extreme. Such being the case,
the unfortunate individual is not accountable for his actions,
even if they be criminal in character, long before death puts an
end to his sufferings.

THE PROCESS OF DYING BY ASPHYXIA.

A writer, in the Chicago Herald, says: "About twenty
people lose their lives annually in Chicago by means of escaping
gas. Some, undoubtedly, are suicides; others are ignorant in
the handling of tne favorite illuminating power, and still others
are victims of defective gas fixtures. In every case they die a
terrible death. It is one of the many popular mistakes that
asphyxia caused by the inhalation of coal gas is only a form of
sleep into which the doomed person drops to awake no more.
The calm and peaceful appearance of the dead, indicating
neither struggle nor pain in nature's final combat with her arch
enemy, is belied by careful examinations made by the most
expert physicians. Death from asphyxia begins at the lungs,
almost simultaneously paralyzing the muscles of the body.
The victim is deprived of the power of action, while still re-
taining consciousness. Not even an outcry is possible, and
death approaches inch by inch — relentlessly entangling the
agonized victim In its skeins, from which there is no escape
unless timely help arrives before the last stage in the passive
struggle. While still conscious, the brain, in its attempts to
break the chains of death, pictures the past and present in
vivid colors, flashing like lightning over the memory, which
still has a conception that the end is coming.

''You may set it down, says an eminent medical prac-
titioner, that the stages in asph3^xla from coal gas are con-
fusions of ideas, delirium, muscular spasms, convulsion and
paralysis, unconsciousness, and finally failure of the heart's

248 THE ENCYCL OP^EDIA OE DEA TH

action. In other words, unconsciousness is one of the last
stages, which leaves the natural inference that the victim knows
what death is until the very last beating of the heart. The
suffering must be terrible, because the duration of the last
struggle, in which the body is entirely passive and prostrated,
while the mind retains every impression more vividly than even
in its normal state, is not less than thirty minutes, and in some
cases longer than an hour. This medical view of asphyxia from
coal gas is substantiated not only by the truthful relations of
persons who have been rescued while nature was about to sue
cumb, but also by the condition of the body after death. Tht>
only irrational symptom disclosed by the scalpel of the operator
is the presence of dark, venous blood in the right side of the
heart and the venous system. The left chambers of the heart
contain only a small quantity of dark-colored blood, while the
vessels of the membrane and sinuses of the brain are filled with
it. This demonstrates plainly that the brain was the last organ
to succumb."

THE ODOR OF COMING DEATH.

An article in the AmeiHcan Journal of JSfcdical Science de-
scribes a peculiar odor often noticed several hours before the
final departure of life. The smell is said to resemble musk,
and to be due to the liberation of ammonia and of the fatty
acid which gives the blood its characteristic odor.

THE PROCESS OF DYING THOUGHTFULLY CONSIDERED.

It has been well said: *'To be buried alive is a contin-
gency the very thought of which fills the mind with horror;
and yet it is notorious that instances have occurred, and may
yet occur, through neglect on the part of those in charge to
use even the most ordinary precautions."

The subject is of such importance that it is well to im-
press upon all a few of the signs which usually distinguish
actual from supposed death:

''The arrest of the pulse and the stoppage of breathing.
No movement of the chest — no moist breath to dim a looking-
glass placed before the mouth. The stoppages of pulse and
breath may, however, under certain conditions, be reduced to
so low an ebb that it is by no means easy to decide whether
or not they are completely annihilated. Cases, too, have been

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 249

known in which the patient had the power of voluntarily sus-
pending these functions for a considerable time. The loss of
irritability in the muscles (a fact which may be readily ascer-
tained by a galvanic current)is a sign of still greater import-
ance than even the apparent stoppage of the heart or of the
breath.

''The contractile power of the skin is also lost after death.
When a cut is made through the skin of a dead body the
edges of the wound close, while a similar cut made during life
presents an open or gaping appearance.

''An important change, termed the rigor mortis, takes
place after death, at varying periods. The pliability of the
body ceases, and a general stiffness ensues. This change may
appear within half an hour, or it may be delayed for twenty
or thirty hours, according to the nature of the disease. It
must, however, be borne in mind that rigor mortis is not a
continuous condition; it lasts from twenty-four to thirty-six
hours, and then passes away. Commencing in the head, it
proceeds gradually downwards, the lower extremities being
the last to stiffen; and disappears in the same order.

''One of the most important of the various changes that
indicate death is the altered color of the surface of the body.
Livid spots of various sizes occur, from local congestions dur-
ing life; but the appearance of a green tint on the skin of the
abdomen, accompanied by a separation of the cuticle or skin, is
a certain sign that life is extinct. To these symptoms may be
added the half-closed e3^elids and dilated pupils; and the half-
closed fingers, with the thumb turned in. It is important to
note that the slightest motion of the heart may be detected by
the stethoscope, even though breathing and the pulse have
ceased. If the heart, therefore, be silent to this delicate in-
strument, the vital spark has fled."

SIGNS IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

In determining whether the immortal spirit has taken its
everlasting flight from its earthly home, physicians carefully
inspect certain signs, or have immediate recourse to various ex-
periments. "But it may be considered excellent advice," says
an old physician, ''to always distrust 'signs.'" At onetime
they may be correct in their manifestations, making no false
reports; at another time they may mislead you, resulting in a

250 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

premature interment. If the signs of death are infallible, then
there exists no necessity whatever for resorting to experi-
ments, or any extraneous measures to restore life. If infalli-
ble, why so many premature burials? If they can be implicitly
relied upon, then the attending physicians in certain cases
where they have passed a dogmatic opinion that death had en-
sued on the part of their patients, which proved false, must
have been first-class ignoramuses. It would be better to never
regard any of the various signs of death as infallible. They
should never be the autocrat to decide absolutely between life
or death. Of course they may be approximately correct, and
it is well to carefully observe them, but in every case all the
known methods to effect a restoration should be employed,
although they may be unavailing. Life and death may in
some cases be so evenly balanced that some trivial circum-
stance may bring the patient back to life, or place him in a
condition where restoration is impossible.

THE TIDES AND DEATH IN THE PROCESS OF DYING.

On Cape Cod and in many other districts along the New
England coast it is believed that a sick man cannot die until
the ebb tide begins to run. Watchers by beds of sickness
anxiously note the change of tides, and if the patient lives un-
til the flood begins to set in again, he will live until the next
ebb. The most intelligent and best educated people, born and
brought up on the New England coast, are not entirely free
from this superstition, and to them there is a weird meaning
in the words of Dickens in describing the death of Barkis:
*And it being high water he went out with the tide."

HOWARD'S METHOD OF ARTIFICIAL RESPIRATION.

''We think it advisable," says the Canadian Journal of
Medical Science, "to direct attention to the following rules for
resuscitating the partially drowned:

"First — Instantly turn patient downward, with a large,
firm roll of clothing under his stomach and chest. Place one
of his arms under his forehead, so as to keep his mouth off the
ground. Press with all your weight two or three times, for
four or five seconds each time, upon patient's back, so that
the water is pressed out of lungs and stomach, and drains
freely out of mouth. Then,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD.

251

"Second — Quickly turn patient, face upward, with roll of
clothing under back, just below shoulder blades, and make the
head hang back as low as possible. Place patient's hands
above his head. Kneel with patient's hips between your knees,
and fix your elbow firmly against your hips. Now, grasping
lower part of patient's naked chest, squeeze his two sides to-
gether, pressing gj-adually forward with all your weight, for
about three seconds, until your mouth is nearly over mouth of
patient; then, with a push, suddenly jerk yourself back. Rest
about three seconds; then begin again, repeating these bel-
lows-blowing movements with perfect regularity, so that foul
air may be pressed out and pure air be drawn into lungs,
about eight or ten times a minute, for at least an hour, or un-
til the patient breathes naturally."

WHEN THE PROCESS OF DYING IS COMPLETE.

The Fail Mall Gazette says: '* There can be little doubt
that premature burial does occasionally take place in France
and Algeria, also in Germany, in consequence of the laws
ordaining prompt interment. It is no wonder, therefore, that
the following discovery, signaled in D Electricite^ has been re-
ceived with great satisfaction. According to this journal, it
has been ascertained that the application of an electric current
to the body is a certain test of vitality. Such a test being ap-
plied five or six hours after presumed death, the non-contrac-
tion of the muscles will prove beyond a doubt that life is extinct.
So, at least, we gather from the journal D Electricite. All kinds
of precautions are taken from time to time in France and Ger-
many to avert the horrible catastrophe of premature interment,
but we were assured in Germany nothing is trusted to but cre-
mation. All who have witnessed the celerity with which the
bodies of the dead, or supposed dead, are shoveled into the
grave abroad, must cordially hope that the facts cited are in-
contestable and may be widely made known. Cremation is not
a costly process, it is true, but it is not within every one's
means tO visit Milan or Gotha when living, much less to order
urn-burial in either of those cities from fear of premature inter-
ment."

The Fopular Science Mo7ithly says: ''The importance of
having some readily-applied and indisputable test of the fact
of death, is apparent, and many are the processes offered to

252 THE ENCYCLOPyEDIA OE DEATH

determine it. Nevertheless, such a test appears to oe a de-
sideratum— unless, indeed, we accept that offered by Kappekr.
In the course of his researches on the electrical stimulation of
dead muscles, Kappeler subjected twenty corpses to the action
of various electrical currents, noting the time of disappearance
of contractility. In persons emaciated by chronic maladies,
it disappeared much more rapidly than in well-nourished
individuals, or those who had acute disease. It disappeared
seventy-five minutes after death at the quickest, and six and a
half hours at the slowest. In cases where a rise of temperature
is observed after death, electric contractility persists longest.
So long as there remains the least flicker of life, the contrac-
tions continue intact. In the most prolonged faints, in the
deepest lethargies,, in poisoning by carbonic oxide, chloroform,
etc., there is contraction so long as life lasts. But if the mus-
cles make no response to the electrical stimulation, Kappeler
pronounces life to be extinct."

FREED FROM THE FEAR OF DEATH.

"^When Mr. Fawcett, the late Postmaster-General, re-
turned two years ago from the door of death, sa3^s the Pall
Mall Gazette, he remarked that, whatever else his illness had
done for him, it had at least freed him from the fear of death.
Like many men of robust physique, Mr. Fawcett at one time
entertained a dread that death would be preceded by a fierce
convulsion — a veritable death-agony. During his former ill-
ness, as he lay for days in the last stage of prostration awaiting
death, he felt entirely free from any physical fear. The heart
would simply cease to beat, as a watch that has run out ceases
to tick, and all would be over. Death would be no wrench,
but simply the cessation of life. Such, at least, was the con-
viction which Mr. Fawcett brought back with him from the
shadowy confines of the grave.

♦Chicago Tribune, November, 1884.

AND LIFE IN THE SFIKIT- WORLD, 253

O^er iKe Di^i6ii\^ Liive, iivto Spirit-LiFe.

A GLIMPSE BEYOND THE VEIL, ON THE SPIRIT SIDE OF LIFE.

A BRIGHT LIGHT SPIRIT MUSICIANS A GORGEOUSLY FURNISHED

ROOM A REVIEW SCHOOL THE TRANSCENDENT BEAUTIES OF

SPIRIT SCENES.

[The fact that in the trance state scenes in Spirit-life are
often witnessed that are observed by the dying, may lead to
the belief that in a measure it is similar to the stages of death.
As, while dying, the spiritual faculties are often illuminated
and spirit friends seen, So in the trance condition the same
phenomenon occurs. The parallel seems to be complete.]

*A MESSAGE WHILE ENTRANCED.

On retiring one evening a short time ago, and while med-
itating on the grandeur of Spirit-life, my clairvoyant vision
was opened to such a degree that I could see everything as
distinctly as though it were material. I saw in the distance a
bright light, and within that light there appeared a man, saying:
"Come up and view the Sphere of Spiritual Purity." 1 made
an attempt, but could not remain long, for my mind would
revert to my body (which I could plainly see) and would cause
me to lose my hold of the plane he was standing on. He said:
'* Your mind is a master of all your movements, and wherever
you will yourself, there you will be. Now, sir, will yourself to
remain with me and I will show you some of the beauties of
Spirit-life." After several efforts I finally succeeded, and re-
mained with him for a long time, while he explained a great
deal that was grand beyond all preconceived ideas. ''Now,
sir," he said, ''let us visit the Musicale,'' After passing up a

*D. D. Glass, Columbia City, Ind. """

254 THE ENC YCL OP. ED I A OE BE A TH

spiral incline a short distance, I heard the most delicious music.
In a short time we came in view of the musicians. There was
an instrument resembling a piano, but much larger. There
were three playing, while a dozen or more were standing near
by singing. They were all females. I was completely en-
chanted with the music, while the magnificence and grandeur
of the surroundings were beyond mortal power to comprehend.
I was seemingly dethroned of my senses for a time, until I
could master the situation, and realize that I was yet a mortal.
We listened to the music for some time, which finally ceased,
and the ladies, after paying respects to my guide (who seemed
to be chief of the apartment) as well as myself, repaired to
their separate apartments to again enter upon their respective
duties as teachers and pupils — teaching those from a lower
sphere, and receiving instructions from those of a still higher.

My guide said he must now leave me, as he had duties he
must attend to, and he introduced me to a beautiful lady, who
.said she would be glad to escort me through some of the many
apartments adjacent thereto. ''Come, let us take a stroll down
this beautiful walk." After passing down this beautiful walk,
which in appearance was but a ray of iight, for a short distance,
we came to a magnificent structure. My guide said: " Let us
enter this apartment, for I know when once within you will be
delighted with the enchanting effect."

We passed into one of the most gorgeously-furnished rooms
I ever saw or read a description of. Those who have visited
the Orient and drawn a pen-picture of the princely apartments,
fall far short of a description of the grandeur of this place.
The finest upholstered seats, chairs, lounges, sofas, etc. ; carpets
of the most gorgeous texture covering the floor; paintings of
great and noble men and women adorned the walls; decorative
paintings, plaster casts, with symbolical designs in endless
variety, went to make up only a part of what was contained in
this Eden of celestial grandeur. ''This," she said, "is the
apartment of Descriptive Knowledge and Eloquence. Within
this room every attainment possible within you will be spon-
taneously brought forth. We visit this apartment to brighten
up our dull and apparently lagging intellectual energies. This
apartment is the last one visited before ascending to a higher
plane, and that is why it is so thoroughly magnetized with the
brightest ideas of those who have passed beyond, and have left

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD.

255

their influence so impressed here that all who enter are imbued
with a keen perception that arouses every dormant intellectual
vibration. Do you understand? While in this room we feel,
in a slight degree, like those who have passed beyond. It
would be impossible for us to experience what they do in our
present state of development. We are only slightly impressed
with the conditions of those who have entered the higher
sphere." ,

I experienced a feeling in this room that would be im-
possible to describe. In conversing with my fair guide, I felt
inspired with the eloquence of a Cicero or an Ingersoll. All
things seemed easy and simple of explanation. Language
flowed as easily as from the lips of a distinguished orator. My
guide said:

'^ You see, what is latent within, while in this room, comes
to the surface, and you are no longer dull to comprehend any-
thing you are capable of acquiring. But it is only temporary,
for we must go back and learn thoroughly what we have
passed over, by getting them permanently imbedded on the
mind before we can pass this apartment and join the higher
class. This might be rightly considered a Review-School".
Everything we have learned in the past comes to us perfectly
plain, so that when we ascend to the higher plane, we com-
mencethere just where we left off here."

On leaving this apartment, we passed to within a short
distance of the great piano, before seen, and then took seats
on a beautiful ornamental sofa. Tn a few minutes there ap-
peared before us about a dozen children, ranging from six to
ten years of age. **This is my class from the Sphere of Child-
hood. They have come here for instruction in a higher grade
of learning than is taught on their sphere. I must now be
excused to attend their eager wants. I see fair Rhoda is at
leisure. She will be pleased to further entertain you."

* Fair Rhoda, indeed! Oh, when will this earth, if ever,
progress to that condition of purity that it will be possible
to produce a being approximating the angelic loveliness of
fair Rhoda? The widest stretch of the imagination of mor-
tal man cannot picture such a being. A blonde of the purest
type, whose skin was almost transparent, and the texture that
covered her fair form was unlike in fineness the finest silken
abrics produced on the earth plane. ''Sir," she said, ''if you

256 THE ENCYCL OP.EDIA OE DEA Til

so desire, we will pass to yon elevation (pointing to a beauti-
ful retreat in the distance, covered with a gorgeous array of
natural beauty, excelled only as nature ofttimes excels her-
self), where we can command a view of the surrounding coun-
try. I know you most earnestly desire an explanation on a
subject which has caused much controversy on the earth
plane, and I will be pleased to expound all 3^ou may wish to
know."

On reaching that enchanted eminence and surveying the
surroundings, I became aw^e-stricken for a ^moment with the
grandeur of the place, and something about as follows passed
through my mind:

Oh! beautiful Nature! how the glories of thy fascinating
splendor glow in the presence of the vivifying sunshine!
Speak, oh! beautiful Nature, of thy perfect manifestations
and great works, and in the presence of thy grand produc-
tipns all is manifest good. Thou art the crown of all glory.
Thou art the never-failing master of fate. Thou art the rock
upon which all our hopes may be realized. Thou art the ruler
of the heavens, whose pearly gates are ever ajar, and he who
will may enter and become blest, for thou art the crowning
glory of all there is.

On arousing from my reverie my guide explained a great
many mysteries of Spirit-life. I must confess here, as Paul
did, I saw and heard things that would be ''unlawful to tell."
She explained the relation of the sexes in the higher spheres;
the meaning of soul-mates, and how they unite and assimilate
each other's magnetic aura, a pleasure beyond mortal concep-
tion. Here I learned the same pair do not as a rule remain
together indefinitely. For instance: if one progresses faster
than the other they will part, and seek one on their own plane.
Soul-mates do not remain as such, only so long as there is
compatibility, and this remains only so long as they have
equal desires and aspirations on a progressive line, or in social
relations. If one progresses beyond the other the one left be-
hind becomes too crude and the other too refined for their auras
to blend in harmony, and the/ ire then divorced by a natural
law of incongruity. They part as friends, very much unlike
those divorced on earth. There is an inexplainable dislike be-
tween two spirits who have progressed to a state where they
must separate. It is not a dislike as we understand it. They

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD 257

are uo longer attracted to each other, and each seeks a more
suitable companion.

I asked this fair one why it was necessary the sexes should
be united after they had passed beyond the stage or sphere of
procreation? What further use were they to each other as
such? She answered: ''Of what use are the two poles of a
galvanic battery? Because they cannot exist separate, or are
only in a quiescent state. The current cannot flow unless the
circuit is complete. Just so with mortals or spirits, beings of
a higher order, incomplete alone. The Bible says: 'It is
not good for man [mankind] to be alone,' which holds good
throughout the spheres. If this were not the law, spirits
would mingle together promiscuously, seemingly without a
purpose, in an inharmonious manner. While, on the other
hand, they are similar to a fond pair on earth; they have a spe-
cial object to love and care for, which gives them strength,
and a desjre to please, and instills in them an aspiration for a
more exalted condition. There will come a time in the unfold-
ment of the spirit that they will be so strongly united they
will have no desire to be separated. They will be virtually
one, 'twain of one spirit,' as you have seen in a former vision.
This is in accordance with the universal law of the positive
and negative forces of nature, which is the harmonizing prin-
ciple throughout the universe. In the earth sphere these seem-
ingly two elements, as seen in the sexes, are noticeably dis-
tinct. They are separate and independent until attracted
together by the common law of affinity, which is only partly
understood.

"Now, sir, you begin to comprehend the use of the sexes
even in Spirit-life. The sex principle — ^as understood by mor-
tals— is, after successive unfoldments of the spirit, entirely
lost, leaving the two (one) great animating principles that con-
stitute the dual life of all animate beings."

258 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

^ flaiv Illastratiiv^ iKe Stages oF Death.

THE RESULT OF AN OPIATE IN THE STAGES OF DEATH.

PECULIAR SENSATIONS LOSING CONSCIOUSNESS OF THE EXTREM-
ITIES— .COULD SEE AS LIFE WAS EBBING AWAY CONSCIOUSNESS

LOST UP TO THE NECK EVENTS OF THE WHOLE LIFE FLASHED

FORTH THE REVIVAL — DEATH BY FREEZING, ETC.

A writer in the New York Star gives a graphic account of
the sensations which he experienced when he was in reality
dying, while under the influence of a powerful opiate.

He had been ill for some time, suffering from frequent re-
turns of severe pains, which the doctors thought might be
rheumatic, or might be neuralgic, or might be something else.
At any rate, they could not hit upon the medicines, either to
relieve these pains or to prevent their recurrence. Meantime,
while they were experimenting, he was getting weak and thin,
so it was determined to try to ease him of his misery, if even
only for a time, in hope that nature would gather a little
strength, and perhaps succeed in doing what the doctors had
failed in — curing him.

One night before going to bed, several twinges, which had
been at him for an hour or more, gave unmistakable warning
of another night of sleepless torment, unless he could find re-
lief somewhere. Of course he thought of the little syringe
for the injection of morphine, with which he was provided.
Then, according to instruction, he pinched up a piece of the
calf of his leg tightly between the finger and thumb of his left
hand, inserted the point of the tube under the skin, and
gently introduced into his system the magic fluid which was to

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 259

relieve him of all suffering. It did it with a vengeance, and
with unexpected rapidity, too.

The first sensation he experienced was as of something
not belonging to him crawling under his skin, and mounting
rapidly up his backbone, spreading thence all over his body
as it went.

He could trace it as it m^oved; his limbs were beginning
to refuse to serve him; he was obliged to totter to the bed
without putting out his light. There he lay, eyes wide open,
senses all alive, out of pain, but with no idea of going to
sleep. When the crawling thing, whatever it was, reached
the back of his head, it seemed to give a slight blow to that
part, and immediately he lost all power over his limbs. Still he
retained perfect consciousness. He heard the movements go-
ing on in different parts of the house. The only feeling of
concern about anything that he remembers was a thought that
arose in his mind like this: ^' What will Effie think when she
finds me in this state?" Even this did not trouble him very
much.

By degrees, but so slowly as to be hardly noticeable, he
lost all consciousness of his extremities. At first, though he
could not control them, he was quite aware that he had hands
and feet, as a man in perfect health knows it without either
touching them or feeling pleasure or pain in them. Now he
seemed to lose them, to go from them, or rather shrink from
them as from sensible contact with a foreign body, more into
himself. This peculiar loss of consciousness extended very
gradually up his limbs. Still he had his senses; his eyes were
open; he could see everything around him; he could hear as
well as ever; his mind was clear and perfectly tranquil. He
was neither frightened nor agitated nor anxious, nor was he
impressed with any peculiar solemnity attaching to the occa-
sion.

Little by little he lost his body, and with equal indiffer-
ence. Whether his heart ceased to beat and his lungs to
breathe at this time, he cannot tell, for he had no means of
knowing, but if they had, he did not seem to miss them.
Soon he was gone up to his neck. Then, and not until then,
his senses began to grow dim. First his sight, not as by the
closing of his eyes, but objects disappeared, leaving only the
impression of light upon the eye; then that, too, faded, and

26o THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

finalh' no consciousness of the organ remained. His hearing
was still with him. Soon it, too, left him. Head, face, body,
senses, all seemed gone — everything except a feeling of weight
in his tongue, and a round spot in the back of his head, where
he had previously felt the blow. Then his tongue went, and
the round spot was all that was left, yet this seemed just as
absolutely and completely him as ever his whole body had
been.

This state continued apparently a long while, during
which he remembers wondering what Dr. S. would say when
he saw him, hoping he would not meet with any annoyance
about his share of the transaction. As to anxiety about worldly
or any other affairs, fears for the future, memory instan-
taneously flashing before him the events of his whole life down
to the minutest particulars — as we are told it sometimes does
— he had no such experience. Even the consciousness of ex-
istence went. The whole affair, from the first injection of the
morphine to the complete loss of sensibility, seemed to him
to last some five or six hours.

The next thing he had any idea of was the feeling of ex-
ternal warmth applied to his cold body. This he felt all over
him at once. Then came a terrible struggle within him, but
in which he seemed to have no will — it was probably the first
attempt of the involuntary organs to commence their work
again. It was very distressing, and if he had known how to
get away from it he would have done so. At last he became
aware of people moving about him and of warm sunshine
around , him. With a terrific effort he opened his eyes and
saw where he was — out on the verandah, upon which his own
room opened, with the warm morning sun and fresh breezes
pouring their beneficent influences upon him.

Poor dear Effie was by his side, white and silent, vigor-
ously rubbing him as if her own life depended on it, while
Dr. S. was hovering over him, trying to restore respiration.

"Water! Doctor, water!" cried Effie; ''he is alive. Dash
it over his head and neck." She raised him in her arms as she
spoke, turning his face to the breeze. A dash of cold water
made him draw a long, deep breath, and set heart and lungs
at their regular. work again. So he ''came to," as people call
it, and a very disagreeable process he thought it was — much
more so than "going off."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 261

He was very ill all that day — as weak as a little child, and
for days he could not walk across the room without staggering
like one intoxicated. By degrees he got quite over it, but he
thinks he shall carry with him to his grave the horrible im-
pression of what he suffered in coming back to life.

DYING THROUGH THE INSTRUMENTALITY OF FREEZING.

^During any rigorous winter, published accounts of many
persons being frozen to death, in the Northern and North-
Western States, may be seen. Sad as these events must always
be, yet there are commonly accepted notions relative to such a
death which are entirely erroneous. To be frozen to death
many suppose must be a frightful torture, judging of their own
experience of the effects of cold. Here w^e fall into the usual
error of thinking that the suffering will increase with the energy
of the agent, which could only be the case if the sensibility re-
mained the same. The truth is, intense cold brings on speedy
sleep, which fascinates the senses and thus fairly beguiles men
out of their lives.

A case in point will illustrate this: A small party of hunt-
ers, accompanied b}^ a Swedish doctor named Menander, in
Northwestern Alaska, numbering in all nine persons, were at
one time overtaken by a blinding storm, and remained so long
exposed that five out of the nine perished, being actually frozen
to death, and among them was the Doctor. During most of
the time Menander, knowing well the deceptions of a rigorous
climate, cheered on the little party, and, in defiance of the
inevitable lassitude which overcomes people under such cir-
cumstances, made the men keep moving. "Whoever sits down
will die," he said to his comrades, ''and whoever sleeps will
perish." The poor Doctor spoke as a well-informed and scien-
tific student; but alas! at the same time he felt as a man, and, in
spite of the remonstrances of those whom he had instructed
and alarmed, he was the first to lie dow^i and die!

This calls to mind the famous retreat of the French army
from Moscow, where the warning was repeated thousands of
times by the officers to the staggering soldiers; but the terri-
ble fascination to stop, if but for one moment, and rest, was
too powerful to resist in a vast number of instances, and whol^

♦New York Weekly.

262 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

army corps found a frigid grave upon the surface of the frozen
snow. Allison, the historian, relates his own experience as to
the cold. Desiring to understand the matter fully, he tried
the experiment of sitting down in his open garden when the
thermometer was six degrees below zero, at night, and so
quickly did the drowsiness come stealing over him, that he
declared he wondered how a single man of Napoleon's army,
in that awful retreat, had been able to resist the treacherous
influence.

THE SLEEP OF DEATK

The process of dying, arising from freezing and the con-
sequent benumbed feelings and sleepy sensations, is undoubt-
edly painless. When a person feels exceedingly drowsy, he
dislikes to be disturbed, and when freezing, he seems to be
oblivious to the great dangers that await him. This, as a nat-
ural consequence, arises from the weakness of the will — how-
ever that may be caused — and a disposition to quietly submit
to the domineering actions of the feelings. Sleepiness caused
by freezing is enervating; the brain ceases to be»btimulated in
the proper manner, and vague dreams, accompanied with
strange illusions, succeed the active energies and thoughtful-
ness of the mind. In extreme cold the physical system is out-
side of its sphere of normal healthy element, the same as it
would be if thrust under water, or in a well where gas would
stifle it, or in an oven where it would gradually roast. When
the weather is extremely cold, and the system succumbs to its
devitalizing influence, there invariably passes through the sys-
tem sensations of extreme languor and sleepiness; the sleep
once induced, the languor that follows will produce weird
dreams, by no means unpleasant, until finally the unfortunate
victim passes into an unconscious condition, from which he is
rarely resuscitated. Freezing may be denominated ''the sleep
of death," for a sleep, calm and peaceful, precedes the final
dissolution, and the awakening can only be in that region to-
wards which all are tending. Of course such a death, after
the first tingling sensations have quietly passed away, must be
painless. Few, however, seek that method to commit suicide.
The first exposure to the cold is very disagreeable, and those
intent on self-murder hesitate before they expose themselves
to its initiatory influence, hence they oftener use the pistol, or
poison, or jump into the water.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 263

FREEZING IN THE MOUNTAINS OF COLORADO.

The terrible winter of 1880 and 1881 was prolific in inter-
esting experiences (as set forth by the Leadville Herald) in re-
lation t(% freezing, and the weird effects thereof on the system.
At one time during the exceeding cold weather John Wilson
had moaned oyt the death-rattle under the snowy sepulchre
at the bottom of the Alice Logan mine, near Chalk Ranch,
Colorado. There is an event in Wilson's career that will ren-
der it immortal, even from its horror. No one whose destiny
has not engulfed him in a similar position and calamity, can
^ realize the terror of being imprisoned in a mine, with the
sounding winds above moaning out a dirge over the grave of
one alive, but to all minds and the world dead. Mr. Wilson
was given up by common conclusion of his friends as having
. sustained deatlypn Jae snowslide near Chalk Ranch. But W.
C. Chapman, whi^was Wilson's associate at the mine, arrived
at Leadville. and, going to the Citizens' Mining Investment
Company's fDom in the Merchants' Building, notified the
friends of Wilson of the occurrence of the morning. In a
moment they started to their feet, and, inspired by the recol-
lection of their old friend, they determined to confront the
opposition of the night and howling weather, and go to the
rescue.

Accordingly Messrs. J. W. Virgin, a trustee of the Cit-
izens' Mining Investment Company, Charles Crews, Charles
Downing, and Mr. Caldwell, mounted their horses, and were
soon pushing their way through the storm along the Arkansas
Valley to where their friend was entombed. Finally they ar-
rived at a portion of the road where snow had drifted so as to
render it almost impossible to proceed any further. Tired out
and weary, they started to tramp down the snow, so as to
make a path for their horses. Some time was spent in this,
and they at last arrived at Chalk Ranch, where they went into

I the house and thawed out their benumbed limbs.
Stimulated, they resumed their march to what they sup-
posed was Wilson's grave, and encountered the most discour-
aging difficulties. The snow had formed a most perfect strong-
hold against hurrian invasions, and seemed to leap higher and
higher at each step, upon the bodies of the men. They were
instructed to take it slow and easy, and by this method much
more would be accomplished. The horses would sink down

264 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

now almost to their backs, and plunging this way and that,
were soon in foam. The men moved on, thoroughly fatigued
and almost frozen, until they reached a little cabin that had
formerly been employed as a saloon and road lunch-house. By
this time the men began to grow sleepy, and the evidences of
freezing began to assert themselves. Several times previous
Virgin and Downing had lain down, and closed their eyes in
j)erfect and pleasant submission to the cold fingers that were
rapidly closing themselves around their victims. The two
other companions witnessed the awful, ominous evidence of
death, and, going to the men, began to kick and beat them
until, opening their eyes, they struggled to their feet, and
walked on, apparently unconscious, or at least indifferent to
their course. Reaching the cabin above referred to, Virgin
and Downing again surrendered and fell prostrate upon the
snow, utterly refusing to advance another step.

A short distance up the declivity of the mountain was the
cabin, which Crews and Caldwell concluded to reach, and,
building a fire, returnfor Virgin and Downing. First, how-
ever, they built a fire beneath a massive bowlder that was near
the road, and, supporting the sleeping men to it, the men
started toward the cabin. They moved on with much dif-
ficulty and made very little progress through the obstinate
element that seemed to exert itself in delaying the men. At
last, after a terrible struggle, the men attained a spot within
thirty feet of the cabin. Here Crews, who had proceeded
with such fortitude, yielded, and, sinking down upon the snow,
was in a moment unconscious of the fact that death had con-
quered and soon he would be a subject of another sphere.
Caldwell was now the only one left, and upon him hung the
destiny of the three men who had lain down to die. He
pushed on through the snow, at times almost consenting to
the drooping lethargy, and again summoning his strength and
animation. After some time he reached the cabin, and push-
ing the door open was soon bent over the stove starting the
fire. Upon the shelf near by was a quantity of canned goods,
and seizing a can of pork and beans he rushed from the cabin
and ran to Virgin and Downing. After kicking, turning and
beating, the men were aroused and started like a hungry wolf
upon the sentinel for the pork and beans. After this, strength
began to return slowly, and starting again they reached the

L

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 265

cabin, where they fell thoroughly exhausted upon the blankets.
In the meantime Crews had been taken in and was sleeping
soundly. No one knew anything until the following Sunday
morning, when the men awoke and remembered their errand.
Eating a hasty breakfast they started for the mine and
proceeded to digging for Wilson. They worked vigorously
until about ten o'clock, when they saw Wilson in an upright
position, the pick above his head and held by his left hand.
Everybody was surprised to find the man alive, and the pal-
pitations of his heart were scarcely perceptible. His face was
terribly discolored, and his chin fell forward on his breast. His
extremities were as cold as ice, and perfectly void of any sense
whatever. The abode of the remaining spark of life was the
breast, and even his head was benumbed and senseless. The
arms were rigid and stiffened, as were the limbs, and there
was little hope. His eyes were fixed, and there was every
evidence that death had taken possession of the man. They
elevated him to the surface, and wrapping his body in a
blanket, started for the cabin. His teeth, which were set in
the cold embrace of death, were pried open and some whisky
administered to him. Finally they arrived at the cabin, and,
cutting his clothes from his stiffened limbs, he was placed in
bed and a physician sent for from Robinson's camp. The
Doctor arrived, and set to work immediately at his restor-
ation. After successive hours of work and careful nursing,
Wilson recovered his consciousness, and, looking around, was
apparently ignorant of the occurrence. When informed of
what had happened, he said that he remembered being down
in the mine, but thought when the snow had fallen in upon
him that he had been struck violently with some instrument.
He said that his consciousness held out about eight hours,
and he knew nothing after that. He had survived in the tomb
for about forty-eight hours.

THE BEAUTIFUL SENSATIONS WHEN FREEZING.

A Western woman, recently restored to consciousness, de-
scribes the sensations attending freezing to death, as follows:

'^Thousands of colored lights danced before her eyes;
the roar of a thousand cannons was sounding in her ears, and
her feet tingled as if a million needle points were sticking into
them as she walked! Then a feeling of drowsiness came over

266 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

her. A delightful feeling of lassitude ensued — a freedom from
all earthly care and woe. Her babe was warm and light as a
feather in her arms. The air was redolent with the breath of
spring. A delightful melody resounded in her ears. She sank
to rest on downy pillows, with the many-colored lights danc-
ing before her in resplendent beauty, and knew nothing more
until she was brought to her senses."

INCIDENTS SHOWING DEATH BY FREEZING TO BE PAINLESS.

The sensations of death by drowning or freezing are gen-
erally regarded as delightful, especially when caused by the
latter. That death by freezing is comparatively painless, is
proved by many incidents. In the 3^ear 1775, "the captain of
a Greenland whaling vessel found himself at night surrounded
by icebergs, and *lay to' until morning, expecting every mo-
ment to be ground to pieces. In the morning he looked about
and saw a ship near by. He hailed it, but received no answer.
Getting into a boat with some of his crew, he pushed out for
the mysterious craft. Coming alongside the vessel he saw
through the porthole a man at a table as though keeping a
log-book, frozen to death. The last date in the log-book was
1762, showing that the vessel had been for thirteen years
among the ice. The sailors were found, some frozen among
the hammocks and others in the cabin. For thirteen years this
ship had been carrying its burden of corpses — a drifting sepul-
chre manned by a frozen crew." If death by freezing is accom-
panied by unpleasant sensations, the man referred to above as
sitting at the table, frozen, would certainly have changed his
position, and there would have been some evidence of agonizing
pain depicted on his countenance.

During the winter of 1872-3, a man was found dead in
Chicago, 111., sitting on the seat of an omnibus, frozen stiff.
If his death had been accompanied with disagreeable feelings,
he would not have remained in one position, as fixed as a
statue. During the severe snowstorms that occurred in Minne-
sota at the same period, many perished. Those who approached
death's door so near that they caught a glimpse of the tran-
scendent beauties of the Spirit-world, and then were rescued,
state that the first knowledge of freezing consists of a prick-
ling sensation, followed by drowsiness, and then all desire to
be saved vanishes from the mind, followed by enchanting

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 267

scenes, such as characterize a dream when one stands on a lofty
pinnacle and surveys the grandeur of creation. There is but
little pain experienced then, and that in the very first stages of
the freezing process. A party of six young couples, happy in
the anticipation of pleasures which they expected to enjoy,
were out sleigh-riding, and were overtaken by a destructive
storm in Minnesota. The snow poured down in such quanti-
ties, and the wind blew with such terrific violence, that they
were compelled to halt, and when discovered after the carnival
of the elements, they were found locked in the embrace of each
other's arms, sweetly sleeping in death. What a scene! Six
couples, joyous and happy, compelled to succumb to the pierc-
ing cold, and yield up their lives so full of hope, romance and
mystic charms, to the devouring rapacity of the elements. But
their parents and friends had the satisfaction of knowing that
the transition was painless, and the visions and scenes accom-
panying the same delightful.

Of course, no one desires to die from the effects of a snow-
storm, however agreeable the same may be. Death is never
desirable, and should never be invited under any circumstances,
while the vital forces are buoyant and vigorous. An inspired
writer has well said: *' There is nothing that man is so likely
to be little acquainted with as death. He usually shuns what
he has always been taught to believe the greatest of evils, and
avoids the vision of the monster, even when it knocks at his
friend's or neighbor's door. The great majority of men seldom
see death until it has gone; except when it comes to them, they
rarely recognize it, so different is the original from the hideous
caricature. Thus death has been for ages, contrary to science
and experience, depicted in its physical relations as a pang and
an agony."

Our fear of death, however, is to a great extent hereditary,
is deeply impressed upon our nature thereby, and though
experience and science may demonstrate the. transition to be
comparatively painless, and accompanied with pleasing sensa-
tions, yet there is within mankind a deep-rooted antipathy
against the final dissolution of spirit and body.

A paper published in Minnesota, where so many froze in
the winter of 1872-3, gives the following: ''The bitter cold
does not chill and shake a person, as in damper climates. It
stealthily creeps within all defenses, and nips at the bone

268 THE ENCYCL OP.EDIA OF DEA TH

without warning. Riding along with busy thoughts, a quiet,
pleasurable drowsiness takes possession of the body and mind,
the fences grow indistinct, the thoughts wander, weird fancies
come trooping about with fantastic forms, the memory fails,
and m a confused dream of wife and home, the soul steps out
into oblivion without a pang of regret."

THE PHILOSOPHY OF DYING.

Is it because some of us ''are nearing the holy ranks of
friends and kindred dear," that our notions are changing as to
the philosophy of dying? Dr. Eddy, when about to die, simply
called it a fact which would take care of itself; and Bishop
Ames most beautifully expressed the Bible idea when he said
it was meiely passing from one apartment of our Father's
house to another. We live now in this tabernacle; we shall
live to-morrow in the better house, not made with hands. Is
it not a great triumph of the truth that our school books no
longer contain rough cuts of a huge bony skeleton, armed with
a scythe, labeled "Time cuts down all, both great and small? "
What is there in the Bible, or in the fact of dying, which
authorizes us to call death a ''grim monster?" It should not
be so preached from the pulpit nor so talked to our children.
Death is as natural a thing as sleeping, and should be so re-
garded— T. A. Goodwin.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 269

Do Not Drea6 the Great HereaFter.

DEATH IS MERELY AN EXTENSION OF LIFE.

RELIGIOUS FANATICISM — ANCIENT TORTURES THE HINDOO FAKIR

CHLOROFORM EMANUEL SWEDENBORG HERMODORUS EP-

IMENIDES FEVERS AND DEATH.

*There is a purpose in life, whether we recognize it dis-
tinctly or not, and it is but fulfilled when we live out our time
to the last. The attachment to life is a propensity implanted
in us to hold us here and make us careful about unnecessary
encountering of danger. It is recorded of the tumbrel-loads
of victims of the first French Revolution, that they were
visually very fearful of being hurt when on their way to the
guillotine; and that at the supreme moment they were so over-
come and insensible from terror, that at the severing of their
heads from the body, the blood scarcely flowed. Madame Ro-
land, however, was an exception — two streams gushed from
her neck when the headsman did his office.

A healthy person is never eager to encounter death. The
pagan votary who performs self-immolation voluntarily, if there
is any such, is in a morbid or abnormal condition, and life has
little value in his eyes. Disease, privation, or overwhelming
trouble is the occasion of such things. The wording of life
insurance policies, exempting the companies from paying in
case of suicide, is manifestly unjust, and ought to be de-
nounced. But life insurance is largely extortion at the best,
ns it is transacted. Suicide is a death from disease, and is no
more a breach of trust with insurers than many of our social
and dietetic practices.

Accepting the event of death as ordered by the same law

♦Phrenological Journal, Vol. 11.

2/0 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

as that which caused our existence to begin, the motive that
impelled the establishing of both conditions must be alike
God-like and equally benevolent and beatific. It is best for
us, most fortunate for us, that having properly accomplished
our careers, we die.

We need dread no hereafter; whatever that is, it is in the
same hands, governed by the same laws, and tending to the
same goal as the present life. So far, we may die cheerfully
and with confidence that is for better and not worse. Sud-
den death, without premonition, now so common, is a boon
rather than a hardship. If we have ''set our house in order,"
attended to all persons and matters requiring our care, and
have not inopportunely hurried our end, there is abundant
reason to welcome such a conclusion. It seems to us a glo-
rious thing to live our life out full, exhausting its powers with-
out disease, and then cease to exist from the sudden stoppage
of the machinery. If destiny, which overrules our acts and
purposes, has that end in store for the writer, he would in ad-
vance declare it the mode most acceptable to him.

In other days religious fanaticism induced men who had
made God in their own image to think of him as a grand tor-
ture-master, who delighted in the seriousness and suffering of
men, and was offended by mirth. They affected the life,
sores, and filth of the beggar, Lazarus, because he was com-
forted, and pronounced the rich man in torment in the under-
world wicked, because he had in his lifetime received good
things. Hence, not only were the rack, thumb-screw, and
burning alive inflicted on dissenters, but partial self-immola-
tions, rigid scourging, and voluntary starving were resorted
to, as wearing out a corrupt nature. The pangs and violent
anguish of neuralgic and inflammatory diseases were regarded
as direct afflictions from God for the welfare of the soul. A
Hindoo fakir, swinging on a hook, or dervish, lying down on a
couch of sharp nails, only carried out the idea to greater
length. Certain Scotch clergymen once denounced the use of
chloroform by child-bearing women, because the third chap-
ter of the book of Genesis announced pain in bringing forth as
the penalty of the first woman for eating the fruit of the Tree
of Knowledge.

Emanuel Swedenborg explains the process of d3ang as fol-
lows: ''When the bod}'' is no longer able to perform its func-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 271

tions in the natural world, then man is said to die. This takes
place when the respiratory motions of the lungs and the sys
tolic motions of the heart cease; but still man does not die-
but is only separated from the corporeal part which was of use,
to him in the world, for man himself lives continually." He
goes on to define that the inmost communication of the spirit
is with the respiration and with the motion of the heart, its
thought being with the respiration and the affection with the
heart; wherefore, when those two motions cease in the body
a separation immediately ensues. These motions are the bonds
which attach the spirit to the body, and their rupture is fol-
lowed by the spirit's withdrawing upon the cessation of the
heart's action, after which the body grows cold and begins to
dissolve.

There is a likelihood and liability of such a separation
where a person is in the habit of heavy dreaming or trance.
The spiritual individuality in such cases becomes more or less
concentrated in itself, and the physical capacity becomes in a
great degree separated, and sometimes apparently dead. This
was the case with the Swedish seer, who, however, possessed
a prodigious vital energy as well as cerebral power, and could
undergo these ecstasies with comparatively little peril. But
others, reft thus from the body, fail to return; or if resuscita-
tion takes place, nevertheless die shortly afterward from the
peculiar shock. Passing by the clairvoyant and other anal-
ogous phenomena of modern times, part of which are arrant
impostures, and all of them contemptuously disregarded by
ignorant or uncandid scientists, we cite examples from the Ori-
ent classics. Epimenides, a poet living in the time of Solon,
had trances in which his body exhibited the appearance of a
corpse, and he seems to have contemplated it as a thing distinct
from himself. Pliny relates that he was once insensible for
fifty-seven years, but this is doubtless an exaggeration. Plu-
tarch also mentions Hermodorus of Clazomene, who was many
times in ecsiasis, and had the power of inducing and of contin-
uing the apparent death for a long period at pleasure. His wife,
finally, finding or supposing him dead, placed his body on the
funeral pile, although it had not begun to corrupt.

It is evident from such examples — which are more numer-
ous than is imagined — that persons liable to trance are likely
to escape from corporeal life painlessly, as a bird leaves a

272 7HE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

cage, or a traveler his inn. Persons sometimes die from hav-
ing no desire or energy of ^vill to Hve. The individual of
healthy body who has avoided disease and unwholesome hab-
its, goes to death as to sleep, from which for once he fails to
awake. It is more like the insensibility from chloroform than
a breaking up of the physical economy. The stroke of light-
ning, the blow of the ax, and the instantaneous crushing of
the brain, end life at once without a pang. The terror consti-
tutes the entire suffering. Those who die in syncope, if they
have any sensation, experience one that is rather pleasurable
than otherwise.

The rack and the fagot inflict tremendous torture, and ex-
ecution by hanging is, perhaps, next as a means of torment,
now that crucifixion has gone out of fashion. It has long
been a subject of marvel with us that Englishmen and Amer-
icans, boasting of their superior enlightenment and Christian-
ity, adhere so tenaciously to such a barbarous infliction. The
gallows is simply an infernal machine, an invention worthy
only of one of Milton's devils. Wild beasts seldom hurt their
prey very much, and they never equal men in cruelty. Yet
hanging is not very painful.

Most diseases remove the source of pain as they approach
a mortal issue. The ''agonies of death" are but struggles or
writhings, in which there is no suffering whatever. There are
muscles which are moved or kept in quiescence by the influ-
ence of the will upon them. At the period of death, and
sometimes on other occasions, this influence is withdrawn;
upon which they quiver and exhibit appearances that unsophis-
ticated spectators mistake for suffering. A bird with its head
cut off struggles in the same manner. Those who die of fevers
and most other diseases experience their greatest pain, as a
general thing, hours, or even days, before they expire. The
sensibility of the nervous system becomes gradually dimin-
ished; the pain is less acute under the same exciting cause;
and so far from being in their greatest distress when their
friends imagine it, their disease is acting upon their nerves
like an opiate. Many times, indeed, they are dead, ^o far as
respects themselves, when the bystanders are more to be
pitied because of the anguish which they endure from sym-
pathy.

If we will look this matter of dying in the face, so to

I

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 273

speak, as critically and calmly as we consider other topics, we
can escape a world of apprehension, alarm and misery. We
are perishing every moment, so far as the molecules of our
bodies are concerned; the textures are constantly giving way,
and even oxygen, th^ vital air, takes the life from whatever it
touches, and sets it to decaying. Yet this never alarms; the
crisis or culmination is-¥j)ihat we regard as the serious matter.
There are three modes of dying — from syncope, asphyxia and
coma. The latter is the suspension of the functions of sens-
ibility by operating on the brain. The long-continued action
of cold, reacting like opium and chloroform, lesions of the
brain, as by fever or apoplexy, occasion this condition. There
is little or no sensation. Asphyxia, or suffocation, occurs from
suspension of respiration or the access of oxygen to the blood.
At first the heart receives venous blood into the left side and
transmits it over the body. This operates on the brain, sus-
pending sensation; the medulla is paralyzed, and with it the
pneumo-gastric nerve; the lungs refuse to transmit non-oxy-
genated blood, and the heart and other vessels cease action.
Drowning, strangulation, and poisonous gases produce this
condition. The partial stupor experienced in ill-ventilated
rooms is of the nature of asphyxia. Syncope proceeds from
the interruption of the circulation of the blood, and may occ\ir
through hemorrhage, weakness, or paralysis of the walls of
the heart, as from the use of tobacco, or from injuries to the
nervous system, as from concussion or shock, as from violent
blows, lesions, violent mental emotions, a stroke of lightning,
exposure to sun, or from poisons which disturb the rhyth-
mical motions of the heart, or aconite, digitalis, veratum viride,
gelseminum, etc.

The death of Socrates by drinking the juice of hemlock
{Conium maculatwni) illustrates the operation of narcotic poison.
Having finished the draught and appealed to his friends to
forbear lamentation that he might die with good manners, he
walked about the room till the arrested circulation in his legs
began to paralyze them. He then lay down. The man who
had brought the poison examined his feet, proving them hard;
then his legs and thighs, but they were cold and insensible.
After this Socrates touched himself to ascertain how completely
he was dead, remarking that when his heart was reached he
would depart. Presently the parts around the lower abdomen

274 THE ENCYCL OPMDIA OF DEA TH

became almost cold, and ne uncovered his face to give the
memorable charge: ''Crito, we owe the cock to ^sculapius;
pay it, and do not neglect it." He evidently was thinking of
the offering made to that divinity at the Eleusinia Mysteries,
just before the close of the initiatory ceremonies, as the can-
didate was about to become an adept. Shortly after speaking
\^ gave a convulsive movement; the man covered him, and his
eyes were fixed, which, Crito perceiving, closed his mouth and
eyes.

A little knowledge of physiology is sufficient to show that
neither of these modes of dying are attended with any con-
siderable suffering, and generally with none at all. Disease, in
its progress, when involving the nerves of sensation, or any
violence to those nerves, will inflict pain to any degree of
which the person is susceptible. Hence, man suffers more
from the same causes than the beasts, and they, in turn, more
than the fishes and reptiles, and these more than insects and
worms, et passim. But death seldom occurs, if ever, while such
pain endures.

Death generally occurs when we are asleep or unconscious,
and so comes upon us insensibly, like repose upon a weary
man. Nature strives to render us indifferent to, or desirous
of, the end. While life is really precious, she intensifies the
desire to live; but as its uses are accomplished, she makes us
willing to leave. To the well-ordered mind it is evident that
death is as fortunate an event for us as any that occurs.

''To die is one of two things," said Socrates to his judges;
"either the dead may be annihilated and have no sensation of
an3'thing whatever, or there is a change and passage of the
soul from one mode of existence to another. If it is a privation
of all sensation, or a sleep in which the sleeper has no dream,
death would be a wonderful gain; for thus all the future appears
to be nothing more than a single night. But if, on the other
hand, death is a renewal, to me the sojourn would be admira-
ble. * * * Xhe judges there do not condemn to death, and
in other respects those who live there are more happy than
those that are here, and are henceforth immortal. To a good
man nothing is evil, neither while living nor when dead; nor
are his concerns neglected by the divine ones. What has be-
fallen me is not the effect of chance. It is clear to me that to
die now and be freed from cares is better for me."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 275

LORD BACON, WILLIAM HUNTER, LOUIS THE XiV., MONTAIGNE.

Lord Bacon says: ''It is as natural to die as to be born,
and to a little infant one is as painful as the other." A great
deal of weight must necessarily be attached to his statement, a
man with such a clear mind and comprehensive understanding
of nature's laws. The imagination, ever on the alert, and
biased by early teachings, always attaches a great deal of solem-
nity to the approach of that imaginary figure called death,
ascribing to him the cause of the pain arising from the separa-
tion of the spirit from the body. Says Appleton's Encyclo-
pedia:

''By a natural association in the common mind, of fear
with suffering, the act of dying has been commonly supposed
to be painful. So general is this belief that the term agony,
or the expression, the ^ pangs of death,' and 'last struggle,' are
almost universally applied to the termination of life, as if it
necessarily involved violence and suffering. 'Certainly,' as
Bacon says in his Essay on Death, ' the contemplation of death
as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and
religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is
weak.' So exaggerated have been the notions of the pain of
the last moments of life, that it was long considered an act of
humanity to anticipate nature by violence. For ages it was
the custom in Europe to remove with a sudden jerk the pillow
from the head of the dying, in order to hasten death and thus
prevent the supposed agony of the last struggle. However
painful the mortal disease, there is every reason to believe that
the moment preceding death is one of calmness and freedom
from pain. As life approaches extinction, insensibility super-
venes— a numbness or disposition to repose, which do not
admit of the idea of suffering. Even in those cases where the
activity of the mind remains to the last, and where nervous
sensibility would seem to continue, it is surprising how often
there has been observed a state of happy feeling on the ap-
proach of death. ' If I had strength enough to hold a pen, I
would write how easy and delightful it is to die,' were the
words of the celebrated William Hunter during his last mo-
ments. 'If this be dying, it is a pleasant thing to die,' has
been uttered in the enthusiasm of many a dying person; and
Louis the XIV. is recorded to have exclaimed with his la&l
breath, ' I thought dying had been more difficult.' Those who

276 THE ENCYCL OFyEDIA OF DEA TH

have been snatched from the very jaws of death, and have lived
to record their sensations, have almost unanimously stated that
the apparent approach of the last moment was accompanied
by not only a sense of ease, but a feeling of positive happiness.
Montaigne, in one of his essays, describes an accident which
left him so senseless that he was taken up for dead. Upon
being restored, however, he says: 'Methought my life only
hung on my lips, and I shut my eyes to help to thrust it out,
and I took a pleasure in languishing, and letting myself go.'
The pain in the case of Montaigne, and in that of others sim-
ilarly restored, seems not to have been in apparent progress of
death, but in the return to life. Cowper, when restored from
his mad attempt at suicide by hanging, * said in recovering that
he thought he was in hell.' "

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 277

DealK From a CKrisliaiv's Starvdpoirvt.

THE VIEWS OF AN ORTHODOX MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL.

WERE APPARENTLY DEAD SYNCOPE- — FIRST STAGE OF INSENSI-
BILITY *'AT AN ENTIRELY NEW PLACE " PROFESSOR OF RE-
LIGION THE COWARD AND THE TIMID VIEW OF HEAVENLY

LIGHT.

*While attending medical lectures at Philadelphia, I heard,
from the lady with whom I boarded, an account of certain in-
dividuals who were dead to all appearance, during the preva-
lence of the yellow fever in that city, and yet recovered. The
fact that they saw, or fancied they saw, things in the world of
spirits, awakened my curiosity.

She told me of one, with whom she was acquainted, who
was so confident of his discoveries, that he had seemingly
thought of little else afterward, and it had then been twenty-
four years. These things appeared philosophically strange to
me, for the following reasons: —

First — Those who, from bleeding or from any other cause,
reach a state of syncope, or the ordinary fainting condition, think
not at all, or are unable to remember any mental action. When
they recover, it appears either that the mind was suspended or
they were unable to recollect its operations. There are those
who believe on either side of this question. Some contend for
suspension; others deny it, but say we never can recall thoughts
formed while the mind is in that state, for reasons not 3^et
understood.

Secondly — Those who, in approaching death, reach the
first state of insensibility, and recover from it, are unconscious
of any mental activity, and have no thoughts which they can
recall.

*The Views of Kev. David Nelson, tlie author of " Cause and Cure of Infidelity.'

2 78 THE ENCYCLOPy^EDIA OF DEATH

Thirdly — If this is so, why, then, should those who had
traveled further into the land of death, and had sunk deeper
into the condition of bodily inaction, when recovered, be con-
scious of mental action, and remember thoughts more vivid
than ever had flashed across their souls in the health of boy-
hood, under a vernal sun, and on a plain of flowers?

After this I felt somewhat inclined to watch, when it be-
came my business, year after year, to stand by the bed of death.
That which I saw was not calculated to protract and deepen
the slumbers of infidelity, but rather to dispose toward a de-
gree of restlessness; or, at least, to further observation. I knew
that the circle of stupor, or insensibility, drawn around life,
and through which all either pass, or seem to pass, who go out
of life, was urged by some to prove that the mind could not
exist unless it be in connection with organized matter. For this
same reason, others have contended that our souls must sleep
until the morning of the resurrection, when w^e shall regain our
bodies. That which I witnessed for myself, pushed me (willing
or unwilling) in a different direction. Before I relate these
facts, I must offer something which may illustrate, to a certain
extent, the thoughts toward which they pointed.

I was called, on one occasion, to see a female, who de-
parted under an influence which causes the patient to faint
again and again, more and still more profoundly, until life is
extinct. For the information of physicians, I mention, it was
uterine hemorrhage from inseparably-attached placenta. When
recovered from the first condition of syncope, she appeared as
unconscious, or as destitute of activity of spirit, as others
usually do. She sank again and revived; it was still the same.
She fainted more profoundly still; and when awake again, she
appeared as others usually do who have no thoughts which they
can recall. At length she appeared entirely gone. It did seem
as though the struggle was forever past. Her weeping relatives
clasped their hands and exclaimed: "She is dead!" but, un-
expectedly, she waked once more, and glancing her eyes on
one who sat near, exclaimed: ''Oh, Sarah, I was at an entirely
new place!" and then sunk to remain insensible to the things
of the place we live in.

Why she, like others in fainting, should have no thoughts
which she could recall, when not so near death as she after-
ward was when she had thought, I could not clearly explain.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 279

Why her greatest activity of mind appeared to happen during
her nearest approach to the future world, and while so near
that, from that stage, scarcely any ever return who once reach
it, seemed somewhat perplexing to me. I remembered that in
the case recorded by Dr. Rush, where the man recovered who
was, to all appearance, entirely dead, his activity of mind was
unusual. He thought he heard and saw things unutterable.
He did not know whether he was altogether dead or not. St.
Paul says he was in a condition so near to death that he could
not tell whether he was out of the body or not, but that he
heard things unutterable. I remembered that Tennant, of New
Jersey, and his friends, could not decide whether or not he had
been out of the body; but he appeared to be so some days, and
thought his discoveries unutterable. The man who cuts his
fmger and faints, recovering speedily, has no thoughts, or re-
members none-; he does not approach the distant edge of the
ravine. These facts appeared to me poorly calculated to ad-
vance the philosophical importance of one who has discovered
from sleep, or from syncope, that there is no other existence,
because this is all which we have seen. They appeared to me
rather poorly calculated to promote the tranquility of one seek-
ing the comforts of Atheism. For my own part, I never did
desire the consolations of everlasting nothingness; I never could
covet a plunge beneath the black wave of eternal forgetfulness,
and cannot say that these observations, in and of themselves,
gave me pain; but it was evident that thousands of the scientific
were influenced by the weight of a small pebble to adopt a
creed — provided that creed contradicted Holy Writ. I had
read and heard too much of man's depravity, and of his love
for darkness, not to see that it militated against any system of
Deism, if it should appear that the otherwise learned should
neglect to observe, or if observant, should be satisfied with the
most superficial view, and, seizing some shallow and unques-
tionable facts, build hastily upon them a fabric for eternity.

In the case of those who, recovering from yellow fever,
thought they had enjoyed intercourse with the world of spir-
its, they were individuals who had appeared to be dead.

The following fact took place in recent days. Similar oc-
currences impressed me during years of observation. In the
city of St. Louis a female departed who had a rich portion of
the comforts of Christianity. It was after some kind of spasm.

28o THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

that was strong enough to have been the death-struggle, that
she said — in a whisper, being unable to speak aloud — to her
young pastor: ^'I had a sight of home, and saw my savior!"

I was surprised to find that the condition of mind in the
case of those who were dying, and of those who only thought
themselves dying, differed very widely. I had supposed that
the joy or the grief of death originated from the fancy of the
patient (one supposing himself very near to great happiness,
and the other expecting speedy suffering), and resulted in
pleasure or apprehension. My discoveries seemed to over-
turn this theory. Why should not the professor of religion
who believes himself dying, when he really is not, rejoice as
readily as when he is departing, if his joy is the offspring of
expectation? Why should not the alarm of the scoffer, who
believes himself dying and is not, be as uniform and as deci-
sive as when he is in the river, if it comes of fancied evil or
cowardly terrors? The same questions I asked myself again
'and again. I have no doubt that there is some strange reason
connected with our natural disrelish for truth, which causes so
many physicians, after seeing such facts so often, never to
observe them. During twenty years of observation, I found
the state of the soul belonging to the dying was, uniformly
and materially, unlike that of those who only supposed them-
selves departing. This is best made plain by noting cases
which occurred.

First — There was a man who believed himself converted,
and his friends, judging from his walk, hoped with him. He
was seized with disease, and believed himself within a few
paces of the gate of futurity. He felt no joy; his mind was
dark, and his soul clouded. His exercises were painful, and
the opposite of every enjoyment. He was not dying. He re-
covered. He had not been in the death-stream. After this
he was taken again. He believed himself dying, and he was
not mistaken. All was peace, serenity, hope, triumph.

Second — There was a man who mocked at holy things.
He became seriously diseased, and supposed himself sinking
into the death-chamber. He was not frightened. His forti-
tude and composure were his pride, and the boast of his
friends. The undaunted firmness with which he could enter
futurity was spoken of exultingly. It was a mistake. He was
not in the condition of dissolution. His soul never had been

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 281

on the line between the two worlds. After this he was taken ill
again. He supposed, as before, that he was entering the next
state, and he really was; but his soul seemed to feel a differ-
ent atmosphere. The horrors of these scenes have been often
described and often seen. I need not endeavor to picture such
a departure here. The only difficulty in which I was thrown
by such cases, was: '^Why was he not thus agonized when he
thought himself departing? Can it be possible that we can
stand so precisely on the dividing line, that the gale from both
this and the coming world may blow upon our cheek? Can
we have a taste of the exercises of the next territory before
we enter it?" When I attempted to account for this on the
simple ground of bravery and cowardice, I was met by the
following facts:

First, I have known those (the cases are not infrequent)
who were brave, who had stood unflinching in battle's whirl-
pool. They had resolved never to disgrace their system of
unbelief by a trembling death. They had called to Christians
in the tone of resolve, s'aying: ''I can die as coolly as you
can." I had seen those die from whom entire firmness might
fairly be expected. I had heard groans, even if the teeth were
clinched for fear of complaint, such as I never wish to hear
again; and I had looked into countenances, such as I hope
never to see again while journeying on this earthly sphere.

Again, I had seen cowards die. I had seen those depart
who were naturally timid, who expected themselves to meet
death with fright and alarm. I had heard such, as it were,
sing before Jordan was half forded. I had seen faces where,
pallid as they were, I beheld more celestial triumph than I
had ever witnessed anywhere else. In that voice there was a
sweetness, and in that eye there was a glory, which I never
could have' fancied in the death-spasms, if I had not been
near.

The condition of the soul when the death stream is en-
tered, is not the same with that which it becomes (oftentimes)
when it is almost passed. The brave man who steps upon the
ladder across the dark ravine, with eye undaunted and haughty
spirit, changes fearfully, in many cases, when he comes near
enough to the curtain to lift it. The Christian who goes down
the ladder pale and disconsolate, oftentimes starts with exult-
ation and tries to burst into a song when almost across.

282 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

Case of Illustration — A revolutionary officer, wounded
at the battle of Germantown, was praised for his patriotism.
The v/ar was ended; but he continued still to fight, in a differ-
ent way, under the banner of one whom he called the captain
of his salvation. The applause of men never made him too
proud to talk of the Man of Calvary. The hurry of life's
driving pursuits could not consume all his time, or make him
forget to kneel by the side of his consort, in the circle of his
children, and anticipate a happy meeting in a more quiet
clime.

To abbreviate this history, his life was such that those
who knew him believed if anyone ever did die happily, this
man would be one of that class. I saw him when the time ar-
rived. He said to those around him: "I am not as happy as
I could wish, or as I had expected. I cannot say that I dis-
trust my Savior, for I know in whom I have believed; but I
have not that pleasing readiness to depart which I had looked
for." This distressed his relatives beyond expression. His
friends were greatly pained, for they had looked for triumph.
His departure was very slow, and still his language was: "I
have no exhilaration and delightful readiness in my travel."
The weeping circle passed around him. Another hour passed.
His hands and feet became entirely cold. The feeling of
heart remained the same. Another hour passes, and his vis-
ion has grown dim, but the state of his soul is unchanged.
His daughter seemed as though her body could not sustain
her anguish of spirit, if her father should cross the valley be-
fore the cloud passed from his sun. She (before his hearing
vanished) made an agreement with him that, at any stage as
he traveled on, if he had a discovery of advancing glory, or a
foretaste of heavenly delight, he should give her a certain
token with his hand. His hands he could still move, cold as
they were. She sat holding his hand, hour after hour. In
addition to his sight, his hearing at length failed. After a
tkne he appeared almost unconscious to anything, and the ob-
structed breathing peculiar to death was advanced near its
termination, when he gave the token to his pale but now joy-
ous daughter, and the expressive flash of exultation was seen
to spread itself through the stiffening muscles of his face.
When his child asked him to give a signal if he had anyhapp}'
view of heavenly light, with the feelings and opinions I once

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 283

owned, I could have asked: **Do you suppose that the in-
crease of the death-chill will add to his happiness? Are you
to expect that as his eyesight leaves, and as his hearing be-
comes confused, and his breathing convulsed, and as he sinks
into that cold, fainting, sickening condition of pallid death,
that his exultation is to commence?" It did then commence.
Then is the time when man}^, who enter the dark valley cheer-
less, begin to see something that transports; but some are too
low to tell of it, and their friends think they departed under a
cloud, when they really did not. It is at this stage of the jour-
ney that the enemy of God, who started with a look of de-
fiance and words of pride, seems to meet with that which al-
ters his views and expectations; but he cannot tell it, for his
tongue can no longer move.

Those who inquire after and read the death of the wife of
the celebrated John Newton, will find a very plain and very
interesting instance, where the Savior seemed to meet with a
smiling countenance his dying servant, when she had advanced
too far to call back to her sorrowful friends, and tell them of
the pleasing news.

My attention was awakened very much by observing the
dying fancies of the servants of this world, differing with such
characteristic singularity from the fancies of the departing
Christian. It is no uncommon thing for those who die, to be-
lieve they see, or hear, or feel, that which appears only fancy
to bystanders. Their friends believe that it is the overturning
of their intellect. I am not about to enter into the discussion
of the question, whether it is, or is not, always fancy. Some
attribute it to more than fanc}^; but inasmuch as, in many in-
stances, the mind is deranged while its habitation is falling
into ruins around it, and inasmuch as it is the common belief
that it is only imagination of which I am writing, we will look
at it under the name of fancy.

The fanciful views of the dying servants of sin, and the
devoted friends of Christ, were strangely different, as far as
my observation extended. One who had been an entire sen-
sualist, while dying, appeared m his senses m all but one thing
''Take that black man [a darjx spirit] from the room," said he.
He was answered that tlieie was none in the room. He re-
plied: "There he is, standing near the window. His presence
is very irksome to me — take him out." After a time, again

284 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

and again, his call was: "Will no one remove him? There he
is — surely some one will take him away!"

I was mentioning to another physician my surprise that he
should have been so much distressed if there had been many
blacks in the room, for he had been waited on by them, day and
night, for many years; also that the mind had not been dis-
eased in some other respects; when he told me the names of
two others (his patients) — men of similar lives — who were tor-
mented with the same fancy, and in the same way, while dying.

A young female, who called the Man of Calvary her greatest
friend, was, when dying, in her senses, in all but one particu-
lar. "Mother," she would say, pointing in a certain direction,
'*do you see those beautiful creatures?" Her mother would
answer: "No, there is no one there, my dear." She would
reply: "Well, that is strange. I never saw such countenances
and such attire. My eye never rested on anything so lovely."
Oh, says one, this is all imagination, and the notions of a mind
collapsing; wherefore tell of it? My answer is, that I am not
about to dispute or deny that it is fancy; but the fancies differ
in features and in texture. Some in their derangement call
out: "Catch me, I am sinking — hold me, I am falling." Others
say: "Do you hear that music? O, were ever notes so celes-
tial! " This kind of notes, and these classes oi fancies, belonged
to different classes of individuals; and ivho they were, was the
item which attracted my wonder. Such things are noticed by
few individuals.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 285

The fliiivicry oF DealK.

INCIDENTS IN THE WONDERLAND OF LIFE AND DEATH.

THE animals' imitation OF DEATH DR. DODS A SPIRIT WITH

MORTAL BEINGS PREMATURE INTERMENTS CEMETERIES IN

GERMANY ENGINES DYING OF GRIEF SUSPENDED BETWEEN

THE TWO EXTREMES, LIFE AND DEATH, ETC., ETC.

The Detroit Free Press gave an account some time ago
of a little boy by the name of Ned Baker, who would, for a
small compensation, stretch out on the floor, cease to breathe,
grow white in the face, affect the rigidity of a corpse, and his
pulse become so feeble that the beating could only be detected
by a practical finger. On one occasion he went through this
performance in a saloon, and so much like genuine death was
his counterfeit, that the men who put him up to the trick be-
came badly frightened, and bribed him to come out of his death-
like stupor. His breathing was so faint that it could not be
felt on the hand or cheek, and hardly dimmed the glass held
down to his lips. He says that the performance does not in-
jure his health, and he can make himself so nearly lifeless that
it is only by a great mental effort that he throws off the lethargy.
His imitation of the final transit is worthy of careful considera-
tion. How is it accomplished? Has the mind such a wonderful
influence over the involuntary nerves and functions of the body
as to compel them for a time to suspend action? Is the com-
plicated machinery of our system, the voluntary and involun-
tary parts thereof, under the complete control of the will in
certain individuals? Such seems to be the case. Of course,
there was an unaccountable torpidity of the system induced by
this remarkable boy. It is a well-known fact that snakes, va-
rious kinds of msects, and alligators, during the severe winter,

286 THE ENCYCL OF^DIA OF DEA TH

become torpid — to a limited extent, dead — and when the vital-
izing influence of spring approaches, their latent energies are
quickened into life again, they assume their normal state, and
no one would suppose that they had been in such a comatose
condition. The raccoon presents a peculiar example of this
when it burrows on the approach of winter, partially suspends
its animation, and without any sustenance whatever, remains
until invited forth again into the active world, on the arrival of
spring. Like Ned Baker, it, too, can mimic death, and pro-
tract the imitation for months, and then awaken therefrom in
perfect health. Man, being an epitome of the universe, em-
bodies within his physical organism certain peculiarities of the
animal kingdom. The torpidity of the raccoon and many other
animals is self-induced, or caused by climatic conditions; it is
a species of trance, or syncope, that continues while a congeal-
ing state of the atmosphere exists. The suspension of con-
sciousness on the part of the raccoon may possibly be voluntary,
as much so as the seeking of its burrow for rest and sleep. It
is a partial death — the lungs cease to throb, the blood to circu-
late freely, and the nervous system to transmit sensations to
the brain. Dr. Dods claims that in those animals that become
torpid during the winter, the fo?^anien ovale, the opening between
the auricles of the heart, never closes, consequently they can
live without breathing. In infants, \\\e foramen ovale generally
closes immediately after birth. He says, further, that there is
occasionally an individual in whom it never closes, and that he
is liable, when disease or pain exhausts the voluntary powers,
to sink into a torpid state, which has been mistaken for death.
The lungs and heart suspend their motions, the blood no longer
circulates, and the limbs grow stiff and cold. Thousands in
this condition have been prematurely buried, have come to life,
struggled, turned over in their coflin, and perished. On being
disinterred, they have been found with their face downward.
Some placed in tombs have revived, been accidentally heard,
and fortunately recovered.

WONDERFUL EXPERIENCES OF ALBERT BENNETT WHITING.

Albert Bennett Whiting gives the following account of his
experiences in the death-trance:

''I was a spirit with immortal Deings. I could see my
body as it lay upon the bed, cold and lifeless. I thought of

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 287

my mother and sister at home, dependent upon me; of their
deep sorrow when they should hear of my departure. The
spirits around me were conversing together. Some said: 'Let
him stay with us! ' Others said: 'No! let him go back to earth
and fulfill his destiny.' Then my guardian spirit said: 'He
shall return to earth.' I recognized, among those around, the
tall Indian chief — one of the first four spirits who appeared to
me — and a number of others whom I knew; but soon one
approached whom I had never seen — a man of venerable and
majestic aspect. He was attended by a numerous company of
spirits, and eagerly greeted, as if expected, with the request,
'Aid us to restore to earth this wandering mortal.' I saw a
green and yellow light fall upon my dead body, and I knew no
more till I awoke in the form. I was cold and stiff, and could
not move for a long time; but gradually warmth and feeling
returned, and the next day I arose and told my astonished
friends that I was going home. They said I could not possibly
live to get there, and, indeed, gave me no hope of recovery if
I remained. I knew I must go; so I coolly replied, 'Well, I
won't die here,' and started on Thursday morning. I arrived
at Niagara Falls Friday, where I found my old friend, Judge
Manchester — formerly of Providence — and in his excellent
family rested until Monday. Then, though even more feeble,
and against the wishes of my kind host, I continued my jour-
ney, and reached home the Tuesday following, more dead than
alive."

DEATH OF A BOY AT SALT LAKE, WHO WAS BURIED ALIVE.
William Blackhurst, a boy living at Salt Lake, attended a
picnic, June i8th, 1874, not very far from his home. After
going in bathing he entered a large swing. In a few minutes,
having ceased to exert himself, he was taken down in a lifeless
condition. Ceasing to breathe he was taken home, and prep-
arations made for his burial. On the next morning many
persons who were present observed that the remains were yet
warm, one of whom, a lady of the neighborhood, called partic-
ular attention to the warmth of the neck, just before starting to
the cemetery. Medical advice was had on the case, when the
physician pronounced the youth dead, notwithstanding the
singular appearance of the body. The funeral took place, and
more than fifty hours after what appeared to be the death of
William Blackhurst. Several persons who had known the de-

288 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

ceased in life, went a few days after to the cemetery, where,
upon opening the coffin, they were met with a spectacle most
fearful to contemplate. The boy, coming to life in that narrow
prison under ground, struggled to escape the horrible incarcer-
ation, and in the effort had torn the skin and flesh from his
face, and dragged his hair out by the roots. In that dark con-
flict, the poor creature had turned over in his coffin and died!
One neighbor, present at the funeral, insisted that the boy
was not dead, but a subject of suspended animation. This same
person related that he had himself passed through a similar
condition, having been at one time apparently lifeless for the
space of eight days, with much less evidence of dormant vitality
than he saw in the warm body of the boy before him. But
there was no doubt in the minds of the friends and attendants
as to the death of William Blackhurst, and he went into the
grave alive.

CUSTOMS IN GERMANY.

" In the cemeteries of Mainz, Frankfort, Munich, and other
German cities," says Harpei-'s, ''the dead are exposed for
a certain number of days before interment, to guard against
premature burial. The bodies lie in the coffins, with the lids
removed, in a large dead-house, a wire attached to the extremi-
ties of the corpse, and connected with a bell, so that the least
motion would reveal animation, and bring aid and succor at
once. Certain medical watchers are within call both day and
night, should the bell be rung, and thus every possible assist-
ance is secured toward resuscitation.

''Marvelous tales are told by the common people of sud-
den resuscitation and premature burial, and these tales are
widely and firmly believed. They have, however, very little
foundation, as it is extremely rare, at least nowadays, that
persons prepared for the grave are not actually dead. But still
signs of death are so fallacious that the customs adopted by the
Germans must be regarded as a wise precaution. A celebrated
anatomist, Winslow, had two such narrow escapes from ante-
mortem sepulture that he published a treatise on the subject,
expressing the opinion that incipient putrefaction is the sole
trustworthy symptom of physical dissolution. I have made
diligent inquiry in Germany respecting cases of suspended
animation, and I have learned that in not a single instance has

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 289

a body placed in the dead-house proved aught but a corpse.*

PECULIAR CASES OF SUSPENDED ANIMATION.

Dr. Dods, the celebrated psychologist, relates an incident
that occurred in New Jersey, where an individual was apparently
in a state of death. He was cold and motionless. The lungs
heaved not; the heart in its pulsations was stilled; the blood
was stagnated in its channels, and ceased to flow. His funeral
was two or three times appointed, the friends and neighbors
assembled, and through the entreaties of physicians, it was
postponed to another time. He at length awoke from this
state to life, and was soon restored to health.

A man is supposed to be dead. The eyes have lost their
brilliancy, the countenance becomes pale, and the nervous
system refuses to transmit its accustomed messages. The body
is being carried along by four pall-bearers to be interred, when
one stumbles and falls, and instantaneously life again throbs
in the veins of the one they were conveying to the grave.

Abbe Menon cites a very peculiar case, that of a catalep-
tic girl who, supposed to be dead, was selected for dissection.
An incision of the knife on the part of the operator put the
involuntary organs of her body in motion again, and she soon
regained her usual health.

The facts collected by Bruhier and Lallemand in two
works that have become classic, compose a most mournful and
dramatic history. These are some of its episodes, marked by
the strange part that chance plays in them. **A rural guard,
having no family, dies in a little village of Lower Charente.
Hardly grown cold, his body is taken out of bed and laid on a
straw ticking covered with a coarse cloth. An old hired woman
is charged with the watch over the bed of death. At the foot
of the corpse was a branch of box, put into a vessel filled
with holy water, and a lighted taper. Toward midnight the
old watcher, yielding to invincible need of sleep, fell into a
deep slumber. Two hours later she awoke surrounded by
flames from a fire that had caught her clothes. She rushed
out, cr3^ing with all her might for help, and the neighbors run-
ning together at her screams, saw in a moment a naked spec-
tre issue from the hut, limping, and hobbling on limbs cov-
ered with burns. While the old woman slept, a spark had
probably dropped on the straw bed, and the fire it kindled had

290 THE ENCYCL OPJiDIA OF DBA TH

aroused both' the ^vatchcr from her sleep and the guard from
his seeming death. With timely assistance he recovered from
his burns, and grew sound and well again."

In these cases there was a suspension of the action of the
various organs of the body; they were exactly intermediate
between animated life and actual death. There only existed
a hair's breadth in either direction. In one instance a fall re-
stored to full life the dormant functions; in the second, the
dissecting knife; in the third, fire. As the reader well knows,
certain organs of the body cannot be controlled by the will —
the lungs, heart, etc. A suspension of their work is consid-
ered death. But it may not constitute the final dissolution —
the individual may be reposing between the two extremes — life
and death — and the most careful observation may fail to detect
his true status. In one case, with which I am familiar, a red-
hot iron applied to a drowned man, the functions of whose
system had been suspended for about three hours, restored
him to animation.

A strange incident is related in the ''Library of Mesmer-
ism and Psychology," where a lady fell into a cataleptic con-
dition after a violent nervous attack. It seemed to her as if
she was in a dream, that she was really dead; yet she was per-
fectly conscious of all that happened around her. She dis-
tinctly heard her friends speaking and lamenting her death;
she even felt them when putting on her shroud preparatory to
laying her in the coffin. This feeling produced a mental anx-
iety which was indescribable. She tried to cry, but her soul
was without power, and could not act on the body. She had
the contradictory feeling, as if she were in her own body, and
yet not in it, at the same time. It was equally impossible for
her to stretch out her arm or to open her eyes, or to cry, al-
though she continually endeavored to do so. The internal
anguish of her soul was, however, at its utmost height when
the funeral hymns were sung, and when the lid of the cof!in
was about to be nailed on she revived.

PECULIARITIES OF THE PHYSICAL ORGANISM.

Engineers were accustomed to experience much difficulty

with their engines, in the early days thereof, being sometimes

unable for a time to start them, in consequence of the piston

not being in a position, in connection with the driving-wheel,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 291

to exert its power effectually — it could as easily start the
wheels in one direction as the other — if it could be moved at
all — forward or backward. But just raise or lower the piston
a trifle in connection with the driving-wheel, and immediate
motion was the result. The cases I have enumerated resemble
the engine in this particular — it is almost impossible for the
life currents without assistance to move; some outside assist-
ance is required, or death actually results. True, there are,
occasionally, cases where the efforts of the mind alone, exerted
with peculiar power, can reanimate the vital forces, or even
cause death itself to ensue — as often the latter, perhaps, as
the former. The organs of the system, under such circum-
stances, are not dead, but in a condition somewhat analogous
to that of sleep, only a complete suspension of their action
has occurred. If the stomach absolutely refuses to digest
food, atid the' liver to secrete bile, then two organs of the body
have stopped business in connection with the beautiful ma-
chinery oflife. All the senses, however, are awake — the eyes
still brilliant, and the countenance expressive of the beaming
animation within. The bowels, sensing the difficulty, will not
perform the duties required in their department. The kid-
neys, hearing of the rebellion, become perfectly passive. The
blood meandering around in various parts of the system, meet-
ing with hostile obstructions, will no longer move. Various
other organs of the body unite in making the disaster complete.
The tongue fails to give expression to ideas; the features as-
sume a ghastly expression, the lustre of the eyes then van-
ishes, and friends surround the remains, and pronounce the
body dead — declare that the unfortunate one was seized with
apoplexy. A vein was opened, but the blood would not flow.
He was placed in a room with two watchers, who slept, alas!
too long, for in the morning the bed was deluged with blood
from the punctures, and his life was lost. (See p. loi, Li-
brary of Mesmerism and Psychology.) He was not dead
when the vein was first opened; in fact, had not commenced
to die. The spirit was firmly attached to the body, inhering
there as in vigorous physical life. True, a suspension of work
had occurred, the vital forces were suspended, standing mid-
way between life and death, perfectly quiescent, and the dis
tance to final death was as near as that to animated life — a
blow, a sudden jar, a shock from the battery, a flash of light-

292 THE ENCYCL OPALDIA OF DBA TH

ning, a red-hot iron, or an intense effort of the mind, migHt
revive to action the dormant energies, or, indeed, might cause
death itself. In this condition of the system, the internal
forces of the organs are so perfectly balanced that a triflingin-
cident may start them lifeward, or deathward.

It is difficult to determine v^hat remedies to apply in these
cases, knowing that under some circumstances they are as
apt to kill as to cure. The causes which can suspend the en-
ergetic action of all the organs of the body, pr place the forces
thereof exactly between two extremes, life and death, are in-
deed numerous. A startling incident is related where an ac-
complished French lady was to be united in marriage to the
man she did not love or respect, while all the tender emotions
of her girlish heart were concentrated on another. Under the
influence of the doom that awaited her, she apparently died.
True to her womanly instincts, and devoted to one she so pas-
sionately loved, the grave had charms for her compared with
deserting him for another whom she loathed. She was finally
prepared for burial, and as the father gazed on her remains,
so calmly sleeping, her features wreathed in flowers, from
which there seemed to emanate a sweet, angelic smile, he re-
gretted that he had been so cruel. The remains were finally
buried, when the devoted lover, animated with strange hopes,
opened her grave, when the organs of her system were for-
tunately started into motion lifeward, and afterwards she was
married to the one whom she so devotedly loved. Grief on
her part became so intense that this strange condition of her
system induced that of apparent death, and being conscious
when her lover stood by her side as she reposed in the coffin,
joy, the opposite of grief, fortunately started the machinery of
her system again into motion, and she lived many years in the
enjo3^ment of perfect health.

Died of grief! — who can utter that phrase without tender
emotions thrilling the whole being? The flower withers when
no longer kissed by the sweet dew-drop or laved in the am-
brosial light of heaven, and so does the system often languish
when deprived of a dear friend, whose affection was incense
to the same, and whose presence shed an animating influence
that wove a fairy web of happiness and joy. Grief — oh ! what
a cheerless-sounding word, reflecting tears and feelings of sad-
ness that flow in upon the inner nature, stirring up the deep

I

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 293

fountains of the soul. Young ladies, whose lives seem to be
baptized constantly in sunshine, and whose footsteps make
gladsome music; young men animated with lofty ambition,
and whose aim is starward; old men tottering on the verge of
the grave, where they catch a glimpse of the lambent beauties
of the Spirit-realms; matrons, whose work has been adorned
with deeds of benevolence, that shed a glorious light over
their pathway — they meet with disappointment, a calamity,
perhaps, and deep grief takes possession of their minds, and
the complicated machinery of their system ceases its action —
perhaps, they die.

It is not unusual to see human beings die of grief, but an
animal — a dog, who ever thought of that animal pining its life
away. There was Peter Bean, of Memphis, Tenn. He was
a well-digger, a strong and swarthy man, yet within that frame
of his was as noble a spirit as ever animated a king. Not
very brilliant; not cultured in science or philosophy, yet he
was animated with honesty! Beautiful word, that moves from
the lips in tremulous accents, and up, up, it goes, to be re-
corded in the Book of Life! Honesty is the diamond of one's
nature, and he who has it is better off than an Astor luxuriat-
ing in wealth, or a Stewart fluttering among his silks and
satins. Peter Bean's occupation was humble, and no bright-
eyed sweetheart ever threw her arms around his neck, and
breathed upon him the aroma of her love, or imprinted an af-
fectionate kiss upon his lips. His wealth was within his soul
— deep down — and this dull world of ours had never seen it.
Angel eyes, beaming tenderly and keen, had dwelt with pleas-
ure at his evidence of intrinsic worth, and they flashed toward
heaven their approval. But his affectional nature must have
something about which to twine its sweet tendrils, and so he
selected a dog. That dog loved him, too. Its eyes, its joyous
bark, its frantic motions, all attested that his love was recip-
rocated in full. One day Peter was digging a well — down
deep he was — and his dog came, and gazing in upon him,
barked affectionately. Peter looked up, and it then instantly
became dark to him, and his spirit was ushered into the beau-
tiful realms of the supernal regions. The faithful dog, eager
to salute his master, had displaced a bucket, and it fell crash-
ing upon Peter's head, killing him instantly. His body was
dragged to the surface, and then what a scene! We have seen

294 ^^^^^ ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA Til

fnends shed tears brilliant with love, and their tones of an-
guish were heartrending to hear; but Peter's dog showed
equally as much grief, and his cries of sorrow were exceedingly
touching. The faithful animal libked his master's wounds,
caressed his inanimate form, and sung a requiem that thrilled
the soul with deep regrets. Yet he could not reanimate the
lifeless remains. There, by the side of his master, the dog
moaned out his life in tender manifestations of grief. Oh!
what a silvery lining this sad narrative has. ''If we celebrate
in verse the death of Panthea, who slew herself upon the
corpse of her beloved Abradatas, why should we not drop a
word of sympathy for the dog that refused to live because his
master had died?"

That, indeed, is a curious incident, and teaches us to deal
gently with the brute creation, for thereoy we may under cer-
tain circumstances develop a tender, loving nature in our-
selves.

Indeed, "died of grief " has a heartrending, melancholy
sound, creating within the soul a train of desponding thoughts,
that rise up like so many spectres, that, armed with shovels
and picks, dig deep graves in which to bury our fondest hopes.
Even when applied to the animal kingdom, it has a very ten-
der expression, as in this instance, related by the Paris corre-
spondent of the New York Times. He says: "I have a little
dog story to add to those which you publish from time to
time. Some years ago Mme. Cavaignac, widow of the Gen-
eral, found a small dog in the street dying of hunger. It had
grown too weak to stand, and turned its pleading eyes into
her face as she paused to regard it lying in the corner. Mme.
Cavaignac had the dog taken home and nursed, and ever af-
ter it had a strong affection for her. Miraz was never happ}?
when out of her sight. One day Mme. Cavaignac died. For
a time Miraz watched constantly before the door, but then
she seemed to give up in despair. Wlien called to dinner she
gave a long howl, turned again to the door, then rushed away
to her bed and never left it again. She refused all food, and
nothing was dainty enough to tempt her to eat. For eight
days Miraz lived without food, mourning constantly, and then
died. What would we not give to have a transcript of Miraz's
thoughts during this painful week? "

Was not that an interesting, though sad spectacle, worthy

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. 295

of being recorded in golden letters on the pages of history?
Affection was not foreign to Miraz's heart. There, beauti-
fully developed in magnificent proportions, and delicately at-
tuned, it was too tender to endure the loss of a dear friend.

There are thousands who die 3^early from the effects of
deep grief. They cannot withstand the terrible storm-clouds
that surge irresistibly against them, and thrill their whole be-
ing with the pangs of despair. Oh! what despondent feelings
linger in the minds of the grief-stricken, each one being a cof-
fin full of misfortunes and lost hopes, and each little noise
sounding like the tolling of the funeral bell. Think of the
case of poor Adolph Lessure, a foreigner, who landed in New
York. Oh! what a devoted wife he had. Her heartstrings
were too tender for Misfortune's hand to play upon, and their
repeated touch induced a deep and lasting grief. He had two
children, around whom a delicate web of affection had been
woven by their mother. Adolph was a skilled cabinet-maker,
but could get no work. They consumed the little money they
had, of course, and then Adolph begged. Finally he got
something to do, and he went home joyfully to his wife to tell
her that, at least, they had their bread assured. She asked
him what the wages were, and he told her, and ran away to
his newly-found work. What thoughts entered that woman's
mind! She carefully computed the cost of living; angels' eyes
were only gazing upon her. She then realized the startling
fact, that, after paying the ordinary expenses of rent, just
enough would remain to properly take care of her husband
and children. Oh! grief — despair — then took possession of
her, and she resolved to die, that her children might live.
When Adolph returned from his first day's work, he found his
children crying for their mamma. Half suspecting what had
happened, he rushed into their wretched bedroom, and his
worst fears were realized. On their poor bed lay his wife,
dead, a pan of charcoal explaining the cause, and on the stand
a note addressed to him with these words:

"Dear Adolph: — The wages will just feed and clothe you
and the children. I go. Farewell! Marie."

Rather than deprive her children of the necessaries of life,
she resolved to commit suicide. She died to save her children,
but man}^ pious mothers kill their offspring while serenely re-
posing within the womb, calmly waiting the auspicious moment

296 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

to be ushered on the material plane of existence. Oh! we had
rather be that unfortunate mother, with the stain of suicide
resting upon her soul, than that woman who is reveling in lux-
ury, but who has destroyed her embryonic child, the rarest and
most precious jewel of woman's nature, before it was ready to
be sent forth into the outer world.

Thousands are buried every year (being seized by what is
termed apoplexy), whose systems are not fatally injured thereby,
and who are not dead, the various organs of their body being
simply in a state of suspended animation. Bourgeois furnishes
an illustrative incident. A medical man, through the instru-
mentality of grief, apparently died, but his consciousness did
not for a moment leave him. He heard the remarks of his
friends, the manifestations of his wife's deep sorrow, the pre-
paratory arrangement for the burial, and he was aware that the
funeral cortege was moving toward the newly-made grave.
When the coffin was lowered into the ground, his mind was
animated with terror, which reached its climax when the first
shovel of dirt was thrown over his remains, which brought the
organs of his system out of their distressing condition, that of
perfect passivity, and he was enabled thereby to utter a shriek,
and his life was saved.

A poor, friendless girl, after repeatedly swooning, was pro-
nounced dead, and was to be used as a subject in a dissecting-
room in Paris. During the night moans and sighs were plainly
heard in the room where her body was deposited, but were not
considered of sufficient importance to attract the immediate
attention of any one. The morrow, however, disclosed the
startling fact that the girl had made a feeble attempt to liberate
herself from the sheet inclosing her remains. Had assistance
been present at the time, she would probably have recovered
entirely. She was not dead — her system was so acted upon
by the disease that the vital currents were obstructed, and life
and death were equidistant. This condition of the organic
structure is but little understood by medical practitioners gen-
erally. Accustomed to watch the throbbing of the pulse, when
that ceases its action, they do not hesitate long to pronounce
the patient dead, when he is, perhaps, serenely reposing equi-
distant between the two extremes — life and death. Under
these distressing circumstances, what should the physician do?
is a question of paramount importance. When all the bodily

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 297

functions and forces are moving with the energy of health, and
all at once cease their labors, partially extinguishing the fire
that burned so brilliantly in them, it is, indeed, opportune to
examine the case with a critical eye, and determine, if possible,
what subtile agent has interfered with the complicated machinery
of the organism.

The world was very much astonished when, at the restora-
tion of Charles II., joy caused death; but no more so than when
the doorkeeper of Congress died under its exhilarating influence
at the capture of Lord Cornwallis's brave army. These ex-
hilarating deaths are easy, for the system, before the final re-
lease of the spirit, is temporarily suspended between the two
extremes — life and death. Indeed, such deaths, under all cir-
cumstances, appear to be pleasant, though at the same time
they baffle the skill of the medical practitioner to understand
their real nature. Even when gambling, surrounded with all
the environments of hell, the process of dying seems to be
painless. The London Daily Telegi'aph, of March 7th, 1870,
reports a curious case that occurred at a gaming table of
Kothen, in the Principality of Anhalt: "A middle-aged man
entered the room and sat down to play. After a run of great
luck, winnings had augmented to the sum of a thousand ducats,
equal to nearly five hundred pounds sterling — which the
croupier pushed over to him. The fortunate gambler did not
appear very anxious to have the gold and notes, and made no
response when he was asked if he wished to continue playing.
One of the servants of the establishment touched him upon the
shoulder to draw attention to the unheeded winnings, and to
the croupier's question, but the 'man remained strangely im-
movable; and when they came to look close, they found that he
was dead. Was it his good luck that had been too much for
him? A thousand ducats is a pretty sum, the thought of which
varies, doubtlessly, in proportion to the state of the pocket,
but it seems hardly adequate to kill a man, under any circum-
stances. At all events the gambler was dead — some sudden
'■ click ' in the mechanism of life had spoiled the works and
made the subtile pendulum of being stop in its mid-swing.
Even such a grim comment upon the worship of Mammon did
not take away his presence of mind from the chief priest of the
temple. The croupier no sooner perceived that death had
backed 'Zero,' and won, than he took the dead man's gold.'*

298 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OE DEA TH

Odor flortis, or iKe Smell oF DealK.

SUGGESTIVE PARTICULARS IN REGARD TO IT.

THE CHARACTER OF ODOR MORTIS IT IS PLAINLY ])ISCERNIBLE

THE ODOROUS MOLECULES — CURIOUS SENSATIONS OF A MAN
IN DANGER — NO FEAR OF DEATH MISS ROSE MILLER EX-
TINGUISHING CONSCIOUSNESS APPARENT DEATH DR. LIV-
INGSTONE'S EXPERIENCE.

*In the Cincinnati Clinic of September 4th, 1875, was pub-
lished a paper on ''Odor Mortis, or the Death Smell," read
by me before the Cincinnati Academy of Medicine, August
30th, 1875. This paper was based upon observation made
while an inmate of one of the surgical wards of the Stanton
Hospital, Washington, during the summer of 1863, as well as
upon instances in which the odor had been met with in private
practice. The character of the odor was moschiferous, yet it
appreciably, though almost indescribably, differed from that of
musk. In this paper I desire to present two recent instances
where this odor attracted notice, together with some new
observations concerning it.

Instance i. — July 13th, 1878, on the eve of Dr. Bartho-
low's departure for Europe, I was requested to assume charge

of his patient, Mr. . The patient was unconscious, with

irregular, noisy respiration, with Qnly a feeble trace of pulse,
indistinguishable at times, and was d3ang slowly from effusion
within the membrane of the brain, the result of chronic alcohol-
ism. I was with him through the middle of the night, and
during the time noticed upon my right hand a smell resembling

*"Odoi^ Mortis, or the Smell of Death." By A. B. Isham, M. D., Professor of Materia
Medica and Therapeutics in the Cincinnati Colleg:e of Medicine and Surgery, Cincinnati, Ohio,
in the American Journal of Medical Sciences, Vol 81.

k

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 299

that of musk. This hand was exclusively used in examining
the patient's pulse, and in noting the temperature of the body.
Earlier in the night there had been no smell upon it. The left
hand acquired the same smell from handling the body, and it
was also communicated to the handle of a fan held in the hand.
A gentleman from Chicago, who had volunteered as a night
watcher, and whose attention had been called to the odor,
without any suggestion as to its character, promptly dis-
tinguished it. The ladies of the household did not use musk,
and no perfumery had been in the room or about the patient.
Neither had I handled or come in contact with anything other
than the patient, from which odor could be derived. Death
occurred thirty-three hours later.

Instance 2. — About midnight. May nth, 1879, I was
called to see Mrs. G. She had several months previously
been under my care with acute duodenitis, but with impaired
digestion and defective assimilation. In consequence she had
passed into the hands of an irregular practitioner. I found her
in articulo ??iortis, with general anasarca, the result of blood
dilution. Upon entering the room there was a plainly per-
ceptible musky odor. There was no musk about the house,
nor had any other perfumery been employed. Death ensued
in about an hour and a half.

The smell, as said, was closely allied to that of musk, yet
the impression upon the olfactory organs was more delicate,
more subtile. Besides, there was an indescribable feature per-
taining to it, which seemed to impress the respiratory sense,
and trouble respiration — a vague sensation of an irrespirable
or noxious gas. To the convalescent loungers of sharp olfac-
tory sense about the wards of Stanton Hospital, the smell was
familiar, and was termed the death smell. It was not uncom-
mon to hear the expression: ''Some one is dying, for I smell
him."

It was rare to find the odor widely diffused, and where it
appeared to be, it was probably due to a continuance of the
first impression upon the olfactory organs. As commonly en-
countered, it has suggested the idea of gaseous aggregation or
body containing odoriferous particles possessing an attraction
for each other, and so held together. In the hospital ward,
while present in one location, it was not experienced in another
slightly removed. It also quickly disappeared from the first

300 THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA OE DEATH

location, likely moved along by atmospheric waves. The vapor
in which the odorous molecules were suspended appeared, in
some instances at least, heavier than the atmospheric air.
Thus I have sometimes recognized the smell in lower hallways,
the patient occupying the upper portion of the house, and in
Instance i, already detailed, it was only detected on handling
the body. This affords one explanation why it may not more
often claim recognition. From its heaviness it subsides, and
does not enter the organ of olfaction. Other reasons why it
may escape attention are, that the olfactory sensibilities may
be blunted by long continuance in an illy-ventilated, bad-
smelling sick-room; or the air currents may carry the odor in a
direction not favorable to observation.

The only mention of an odor which may be analogous I
have seen in literature, is by Dr. Badgely, of Montreal, in a
report on ^' Irish Emigrant Fever." It is thus quoted by Drake
in his work on the ''Principal Diseases of the Interior Valley
of America," as taken from the British A?nerica7t Journal:

''I hazard the idea that the ammoniacal odor emanating
from the living body, so strong on opening the large cavities,
and so striking on receiving some of the blood out of the ves-
sels, arteries as well as veins, into the hand, were all due to
the same condition of this fluid, the actual presence of am-
moniacal salts, one of the surest proofs of the putrescent con-
dition of the vital fluid; in fact, to speak paradoxically, of the
existence of death during life.'"

Here the source of the smell is indicated as coming from
the development of ammonia in decomposing blood. It is
known that musk contains ammonia largely, together with a
volatile oil, which has never been isolated. Robiquet holds
that its odor depends upon the decomposition of the ammonia,
liberating the volatile matters of the oil. The blood also con-
tains a volatile oil, and it is familiar that it possesses odor.
This odor may be developed by adding sulphuric acid to blood
and boiling. This process was formerly resorted to in order
to distinguish blood in questionable cases, but it has been ren-
dered obsolete since the discovery of the blood corpuscles by
the microscope. Such a method would be well suited to drive
off the ammonia, free from decomposition, together with the
volatile oil — to which substance the odor is very likely due.

In my paper referred to at the commencement I was in-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 301

clined to limit the occurrence of the manifestation to within a
very short time of death. That it cannot be so restricted, is
evidenced by ''Instance i," when it was noticed thirty-three
hours before death. The conditions here were not unfavor-
able for its development. From the state of circulation, chem-
ical changes were evidently proceeding in the blood, elevating
its temperature, and liberating those fugacious matters to
which we would ascribe the origin of the death smell.

Richardson and Dennis have shown by experiments that
ammonia salts added to blood preserve its fluidity, by pre-
venting the decomposition of fibrin. This is not without a
bearing upon the origin of the odor mortis. In gradual death,
coagulation commences first in the capillaries and proceeds
towards the heart. The escape of ammonia from the blood
in the peripheral vessels, liberating the volatile principles and
engendering smell, permits local decomposition of fibrin long
before the heart has ceased its action.

But Lange has more recently investigated the action of
ammonia in living and dead blood. He found that carbonate
of ammonia added to living blood was only given off at a tem-
perature of 176° to 194*^ F. When, however, ammonia was
added to blood from a dead animal it was evolved at a temper-
ature from 104"^ to 113^ F. It is well ascertained that in many
diseases, just previous to death, the blood temperature is
raised above the lowest given by Lange. In some diseases,
too, the blood heat falls below the normal body temperature.
This affords another and principal explanation why the odor
mortis may not be appreciable. These experiments of Lange
also show why this smell is not developed by diseases char-
acterized by great elevation of temperature — simply because
the blood has lost none of its vital properties.

DEATH'S ALARM, CURIOUS SENSATIONS OF A MAN IN DANCER.

The editor of the Gardiner Journal had a narrow escape
from death, his horse running away as he hung in the wheel.
He thus describes his sensations:

"'Oh, can't some of my spirit-friends do something to
help me out of this scrape?' beseechingly I said oi: thought.
It was a prayer not laid down in the books, and perhaps the
form was not staid or formal. Short as it was, it did me good.
I saw then crowds of spirits around me — -part of whom I

302 THE ENCYCLOPJiDIA OF DEATH

knew. I do not see what they can do, I thought, and as they
seemed to hover round the front part of the wagon, and over
the horse, I wondered how they kept up with him. Then I
thought, perhaps they will take the old horse's strength away,
but I couldn't see very clearly how they were to do this, for
Old Robin was a hard customer to manage. I probably should
have lived but a few seconds longer. The reins had worn off
upon the wheel just when my strength was all gone. Had I
died, people would pityingl}^ have said, it was a horrible
death; but, really, I suffered very little. The shock was such
that my nerves of sensation were benumbed. I had no fear;
in fact, there was a physical sort of feeling that it was a bun-
dle about three feet long, with a sort of handle to it (which
was my left leg, probably), that was bouncing along over the
ground, which I was trying to untangle. I had often heard
that in such a crisis as this, one's whole life passes in review
before him, and I thought of that fact, but had no such expe-
rience. [He pacsed through one of the multifarious stages of
death, but was fortunately saved.] I had only one regret for
deeds done or left undone, and that was that I had neglected
my usual custom of taking accident tickets, and this regret I
felt ashamed of. My only thought was of my wife. The
knowledge that I have faced death unflinchingly is not with-
out satisfaction to me, and there is a something that I feel,
which I cannot describe, that assures me that there were more
powerful influences than my own aiding, comforting and sus-
taining me. My religious friends will say it was the Good
Father, and it matters not what we call it, the feeling is the
same. I do not feel of sufficient consequence to merit God's
special providence, but that loving friends from the other
sphere may have comforted and sustained me is not repug-
nant to my common sense, and does not lessen my idea of the
goodness and greatness of the Creator."

NO FEAR OF DEATH IN THE DYING.

''A striking fact," as related by Prof. O. R. Cowling, *'in
connection with the dying is, that they are not afraid of death.
You notice this even in executions. The majority of men
who are hanged are reported to die 'game.' Death, follow-
ing disease or injury, is, with the rarest exceptions, unaccom-
panied with fears. Disease dulls the intelligence so that the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 303

situation is not fully comprehended; or there may be pain,
and death is looked upon as a relief. Nature, by a kindly
provision, seems to prepare for the flight of the spirit; as the
hold of life grows weaker, so does the desire for life grow less;
and in scarcely a single instance, within my own experience,
or within that of my professional brethren, with whom I have
conversed upon this point, has not the dying man relinquished
life at the last without seeming reluctant or fearful.

''The several physical phenomena which accompany the
act of dying vary considerably in the earlier stages with the
causes that produce death; there is much similarity in the
later steps. Death offers them a physiognomy, which, once
witnessed, is not hard to recognize again. Among the more
constant signs are the failing pulse, which gradually becomes
imperceptible, first at the wrist, and lastly at the breast itself;
the extremities grow cold; the countenance changes, as the
venous blood courses through the arteries; the skin grows
clammy as the vessels relax; the eye glazes; the jaw drops;
the fluids accumulate in the windpipe, causing the ''death-
rattle," so called, as the air passes through; the breath comes
short, and finally ceases.

"As the red blood leaves the brain, judgment becomes
obscured, and the senses deficient. Speech is incoherent.
Strange sights may be seen, and sounds heard, as occurs
sometimes in the still twilight. The hallucinations of the dy-
ing may often be explained upon natural causes."

It is sometimes the case that the body, when not badly
afflicted with disease, retains for a considerable time a vivid
lifelike expression, even when the spirit has been completely
separated therefrom, and then it is often supposed, of course,
that life is not extinct. Such w^as the case with Miss Roe Mil-
ler, of Fort Wayne, Ind., who died after an illness of about
one week, at the age of fifteen. It appears from a Fort Wayne
paper, that the funeral rites were performed according to the
Catholic ritual, and upon their conclusion the coffin was
opened and the relatives and friends were allowed to take a
last look at the departed, previous to the consignment to the
grave. As one after another filed up and gazed upon the
body, an expression of amazement and surprise escaped the
lips of each, which was elicited by the remarkably lifelike and
natural appearance of the corpse. The skin was not cold and

304 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

clammy, but the lips and cheeks bore a healthy color, and
there were numerous indications that life was not extinct, but
that blood was circulating, however sluggishly, through the
veins. Of course, this discovery produced intense excite-
ment. Father Koenig expressed his conviction that the girl
was not dead. By his advice it was decided not to move the
body to the cemetery until it could be ascertained beyond a
doubt that the girl was dead. The hearse left the church and
the procession disbanded. The body was removed to the
schoolhouse on the next lot, where it was viewed by hundreds
of people, the rumor having spread like wildfire, that during
a funeral at St. Paul's church the supposed corpse had come
to life. Several physicians viewed the body, and while admit-
ting indications of life, they expressed the opinion that life
was extinct. Dr. Bruebach being called, stated, after a care-
ful examination, that the girl was unquestionably dead. He
made hypodermic injections of ammonia, regarded by some as
an infallible test, but no signs of life were apparent, and he
advised that the body be interred.

Though the spirit had probably been separated from the
body, the animal life was so tenacious and active that it illu-
minated her features with an expression that seemed to indi-
cate that she was sweetly sleeping. Unconsciousness, how-
ever, does not always constitute death, although the state
produced may so closely resemble it that the body is interred,
gnly to have the flame of life return to be finally extinguished.

EXTINGUISHING CONSCIOUSNESS.

There is wonderful potency in that agency which can,
with the rapidity of thought, extinguish the consciousness that
renders a person cognizant of the external world, yet not de-
stroys the vital spark of life. It is said that during a thunder-
storm on one occasion in Ohio, Mr. Sanford Ticknor and his
hired man were crossing a field when they were struck down
by a bolt of lightning from the clouds. The hired man was
made, insensible for twenty-four hours, when he became con-
scious. His only remembrance of the shock was that '^ sud-
denly the ground raised up and buried him" — at least so it
seemed, but no trace of any disturbance of the earth could be
found, nor any mark on the man. Mr. Ticknor was not so
badly stunned; indeed, he was not made unconscious at all.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 305

He describes his feelings as though he had been hit a se-
vere blow with a stone on the head and one foot, accompanied
by the feeling that a shower of gravel had been thrown on
him. He remembers a blinding flash of light succeeded by
smoke. Both recovered.

The young man was instantly, so far as his own con-
sciousness was concerned, annihilated. The flash of lightning
instantly paralyzed him, as it were, and the spirit, still con-
nected with his body, was powerless for a time to either act
on the material or spiritual side of life. He was not dead.
The vital forces were benumbed, stagnated, and rendered dor-
mant by the infinitesimal pulsations of the lightning. On such
occasions, cold water dashed suddenly on the head is often
attended with excellent results.

UNCONSCIOUSNESS PRODUCED BY DISEASE-APPARENT DEATH.

Disease often produces gradually what lightning accom-
plishes with the rapidity of thought; that is, extinguishes all
consciousness. There was Charles Hueston, as set forth by a
Fort Wayne paper, who was suffering from a severe attack of
congestion of the lungs, and who became unconscious and was
pronounced dead by the attending physician. In the mean-
time his relatives, living at Forest, Ohio, had been apprised
by telegraph of his illness, but they arrived at Monroeville too
late to see the loved one alive. They were much affected at
his sudden death, and the grief of his sister, a beautiful young
lady, whose age was near his own, was distressing to see. She
remained almost constantly by the body, and gave vent to her
deep emotfons in tears and sobs. Preparations to ''layout"
the body were made. The barber was shaving the corpse,
when the razor slipped a trifle, and a jet of dark-colored blood
burst forth. Some of the bystanders, upon seeing this, asserted
that life was not yet extinct; but little heed was paid to these
speculations, and they were not repeated to any of the de-
ceased's relatives. The body was dressed and placed in the
coffin, but as a precautionary measure the lid was not screwed
down. The remains were placed on board the passenger train
on the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago Railway, to be
taken to Forest, Ohio, for interment. The grief-stricken parents
and sister accompanied the remains. The latter refused to go

3o6 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

into the passenger coach, but remained in the express c^r, to
be close to the body of him she loved.

It was nearly an hour before the train arrived at Forest,
when a loud, unearthly shriek was heard, and in a second the
young girl was prostrate upon the floor in a swoon. Several
persons hastened to the rescue, when they, too, were nearly
paralyzed by the discovery of the cause of her singular con-
duct. The supposed corpse of Charles Hueston was living,
moving, and breathing. The head was thrust above the coffin,
and the face, with its deathly pallor, presented a weird and
ghastly spectacle. The young man was evidently amazed at
his surroundings, and the first returning gleam of consciousness
found him in a position of bewilderment. Loving hands and
kind hearts devoted themselves to the care of the man who
had, as it were, so suddenly risen from the dead, and of the
young girl who so suddenly had been brought to the very por-
tals of the grave. Hueston was taken from the coffin, restora-
tives applied under the direction of physicians who were on
the train, and when he reached Forest was removed to his
father's residence.

Unconsciousness is not death. The vital spark of the body
may so stealthily conceal its presence that not even the most
skillful physician can detect its existence, and, of course, he is
utterly ignorant of the agency he should employ to cause the
same to throb again with active, energetic life. In the case of
the common laborer in Ohio, a flash of lightning instantaneously
closed his senses, and rendered him oblivious to all things.
Disease produced the same result with Mr. Charles Hueston.

Prof. Tyndall states that in the Theater of the Royal In-
stitution, and in the presence of an audience, he once received
the discharge of a battery of fifteen Leyden jars. He felt
nothing; he was simply extinguished for a sensible interval.
He claims that death by lightning is accompanied by no pain
whatever — the entire loss of all consciousness being instan-
taneous.

A movement of the organs of the body is not always an
indication of consciousness or life. Dr. Brown-Sequard in one
of his lectures has even said that '^ muscular motion by no
means indicated life. He referred to well-known cases of
snakes, tortoises, and other lower forms of animals, moving on
the slightest stimulus several days after decapitation. He says

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 307

he has seen the iris of an eye contract on exposure to a strong
light, sixteen hours after death. He had also, witnessed pulsa-
tions in the heart of a dog forty-eight hours after its removal
from the body, and in the human heart thirty-six hours after
decapitation. An arm fourteen hours after amputation was
injected with fresh blood, when it immediately contracted and
extended the muscles, giving every sign of life. The Doctor
startled his audience by recounting the case of a patient of his
in New Orleans, who died of the cholera, and whose arms, for
a long time after the vital spark had unmistakably fled, con-
tinued to rise and clasp the hands as if in prayer, falling and
rising as if in a sort of rhythmic beat."

STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF DR. LIVINGSTONE IN AFRICA.

Dr. Livingstone, the African traveler, relates that on one
occasion he saw a lion which was just in the act of springing
upon him. "He was on a little height. The animal caught
him by the shoulder as he sprang, and they both came to the
ground together. Growling horribly close to his ear, he shook
him as a terrier dog does a rat. The shock produced a stupor
similar to that which seems to be felt by the mouse after the
shake of the cat; it caused a sort of dreaminess in which there
was no sense of pain nor feeling of terror, although he was
quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like, the
Doctor said, what patients partially under the influence of
chloroform describe, who see all the operations, but feel not
the knife. He claims this condition was not the result of any
mental process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no
sense of horror on looking around at the beast. Fortunately
the Doctor was rescued from his perilous condition without
receiving any serious injury."

UNCONSCIOUSNESS PRODUCED BY AN EFFORT OF THE WILL.
It would be strange, indeed, if the numerous agents that
can render a person unconscious, or insensible to any pain or
fear, were superior in all respects to the action of the mind
itself. Mind is superior to matter — matter is the subject. But
like many earthly kings who are ignorant of those grand prin-
ciples of government that connect them with the people, they
have no control over them — cannot rule them, and as a conse-
quence anarchy reigns. So the mind, in its ignorance, cannot
always by a mental effort produce an unconscious state, the

3o8 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA Til

same as lightning and disease often do. Ned Baker, as pre-
viously related, possessed the power of imitating death. So
did Col. Townsend, whose case is recorded as follows by Dr.
Cheyne, of Dublin, an eminent physician. He says: "He
could die or expire when he pleased, and yet by an effort, or
somehow, he could come to life again. He insisted so much
upon us seeing the trial made, that we were at last forced to
comply. We all three felt his pulse; first it was distinct,
though small and thready, and his heart had its usual beating.
He composed himself on his back, and lay in a still posture
for some time, while I held his right hand. Dr. Baynard laid
his hand on his heart, and Mr. Skreine held a clean looking-
glass to his mouth. I found his pulse sink gradually, till at
last I could not feel any by the most exact and nice touch.
Dr. Baynard could not feel the least motion in the heart, nor
Mr. Skreine perceive the least soil of breath on the bright
mirror he held to his mouth. Then each of us by turns ex-
amined his arm, heart, and breath, but could not by the nicest
scrutiny discover the least symptom of life in him. We
reasoned a long time about this odd appearance, as well as we
could, and finding he still continued in that condition, we be-
gan to conclude that he had indeed carried the experiment too
far, and at last we were satisfied that he was actually dead and
were just ready to leave him. This continued about half an
hour. By nine in the morning, in autumn, as we were going
away, we observed some motion about the body, and upon ex-
amination found his pulse and the motion of his heart grad-
ually returning. He began to breathe heavily and speak softl} .
We were all astonished to the last degree at this unexpected
change, and after some further conversation with him and
among ourselves, went away fully satisfied as to all the partic-
ulars of this fact, but confounded and puzzled, and not able to
form any rational scheme that might account for it."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 309

(Afe SKoal6 ]^ot Fear DealK.

AN INTERESTING CHAPTER FROM THE FRENCH.

THE PASSAGE TO SPIRIT-LIFE MOST DELIGHTFUL IT IS PLEASANT

TO CAST ASIDE THE PHYSICAL BODY THE VIEWS OF A LEARNED

FRENCHMAN HE HAS AN EXALTED VIEW OF THE CHANGE

CALLED DEATH THE OPINIONS OF OTHERS.

*It is of deep purpose — that is to say, for the preserva-
tion and perpetuity of the species — that nature inspired the
heart of man with a terror of death, even as she made the de-
sire for reproduction from the pleasure of the senses; but sci-
ence and philosophy can dispel the fears vv^hich man feels at
the mere idea of death.

It is an error to believe that the instant of the separation
of soul and body is accompanied by acute sufferings. The
anatomist Bichat, in his " Researches' Concerning Life and
Death," clearly establishes that at the approach of our final
moment the brain is the first organ affected, and that hence
the dying are spared all pain. At that supreme moment moral
terror is, therefore, the only impression against v^hich we have
to contend in the dying, as there certainly is no physical pain.
The bystanders and relations suffer far more than those about
to expire.

The sleep which every night takes possession of our be-
ing steals over us without our being conscious of it, and the
transition from a waking to a sleeping state is imperceptible
to us. Here we have a faint image of death. The dying have

*This chapter, " We Should Not Fear Death,"' Illustrating the beauty and ease of death,
is taken from "The Joys Beyond the Threshold,'" a sequel to "The To-morrow of Death," by
Louis Flguler. Translated by Abby Langdon Alger. Boston; Roberts Brothers, publishers
This Is, In many respects, a most fascinating uork, and one that will prove refreshing reading
to all thinking minds.

3 1 o THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF BE A TH

no more sense of the passage from life to death than the liv-
ing have of the passing from v^aking to sleeping.

It is unfortunate that painting and sculpture should rep-
resent death in the form of a hideous skeleton, armed with a
scythe, mowing down mankind, or of a spectre wrapped in the
melancholy winding-sheet of the tomb. They should have
shown him to us with the features of a messenger of joy, who
comes not to destroy, but to bear us away to another and a
happier sphere. Death should be pictured as a beneficent
spirit, who aids us to cross the bounds set by nature between
the earthly and the celestial voyage, and who introduces us to
ethereal spheres beyond which rises the mysterious throne of
the God of the universe.

Instead of adorning cemeteries as we do, with dark-
leaved cypress, the symbol of mourning and affliction, the
Orientals were quite right to plant them with varied trees, to
fill them with groves and flowers — to make them smiling gar-
dens, places for promenade, recreation and pleasure.

Lamartine (''Death of Socrates") most perfectly ex-
presses the idea which we should have of death in the follow-
ing lines:

''To die is not to die, my friends; it is to change.
While he lives burdened by his body here below,
Man towards his God but languidly doth go:
Forced his vile wants to feed no progress makes;
Moves with a tottering step, or truth forsakes.
But he who, verging on the end which he doth pray,
Sees glorious glimpses of the eternal day —
Like sunset rays ascending towards the skies.
An exile, thence, in God's own arms he lies.
And quaffing eagerly the nectar which doth rapture give,
That day on which he dies he first begins to live."
The Queen of England, Victoria, after the death of her
husband. Prince Albert, as we all know, wrote a very eloquent
book, entitled " Meditations Upon Death and Eternity. " In
this work, filled>with most profound and touching thoughts,
may be found many pages which we would gladly quote, for
they uphold the ideas which we developed in the "To-mor-
row of Death." We will merely cite what the august writer
says to dispel the terrors with which death inspires most men:

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 311

''The terrors with which we clothe death," says Queen
Victoria, ''come largely from the erroneous and revolting de-
scriptions of it given to us. Thus, it is sometimes styled de-
composition or corruption; but we do not, speaking exactly,
fall into either one or the other of these states.

"Some say that to die is to leave the world; but we never
do leave the world, that being in itself impossible.

" Others again claim that death is synonymous with de-
struction; but we cannot be destroyed. No; to die is to re-
turn unto our Father. Our souls merely cast off garments
which do not become them, to put on others more worthy of
them. The shudder caused by the usual description of death
is due to the fact that these descriptions are largely borrowed
from the state of the inanimate body. Every false conception
is justly repulsive to us. So soon as the reason is wounded
everything in us is wounded, and the imagination strives in
vain to make that which is irrational seem becoming. The
state of the corpse in the tomb is not our state, but simply
that of the covering which we have stripped off. And what
is our earthly covering if it be not the worn-out or damaged
garment of the immortal spirit?"

And now let us hear Young, the poet of "Night
Thoughts." Says the English writer:

"But were death frightful, what has age to fear?
If prudent, age should meet the friendly foe,
And shelter in his hospitable gloom.
I scarce can meet a monument but holds
My younger; ev'ry date cries: 'Come away!*
And what calls me? Look the world around,
And tell me what? The wisest cannot tell.
Should any born of woman give his thought »

Full range, on just dislike's unbounded field.
Of things the vanity; of men the flaws —
Flaws in the best; the many flaws all o'er;
As leopards spotted, or as Ethiops dark;
Vivacious ill; good dying immature
( How immature, Narcissa's marble tells )
And at his death bequeathing endless pain.
His heart, tho' bold, would sicken at the sight,
And spend itself in sighs for future scenes,"

<< * * * Why cling to this rude rock,

3 1 2 THE EN CYC L OFyEBIA OF BE A TH

Barren to us of good and sharp with ills,
And hourly blackened with impending storms,
And infamous for wrecks of human hope —
Scar'd at the gloomy gulf that yawns beneath."

/\ * * * The thought of death indulge;
Give it its wholesome empire! let it reign,
That kind chastiser of my soul, in joy!

**•?«• * * *

And why not think of death? Is life the theme
Of ev'ry thought, and wish of ev'ry hour.
And song of every joy? Surprising truth!
The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange.
To waive the num'rous ills that seize on life
, As their own property, their lawful prey,
Ere man has measured half his weary stage
His luxuries have left him no reserve.
No maiden relishes unbroacht delights;
On cold-serv'd repetitions he subsists,
And in the tasteless present chews the past — ■
Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down.

* * * -x- * *

Live ever here, Lorenzo? — shocking thought!
So shocking those who wish disown it, too —
Disown from shame what they from folly crave.

* * * * * ♦ *

A truth it is few doubt, but fewer trust:
'He sins against this life who slights the next*
What is this life? How few their fav'rite know!
Life has no value as an end, but means
.An end deplorable! a means divine! "

Death, far from being a scarecrow, since we all must in-
evitably yield to it, should be regarded as a supreme benefac-
tor, who comes to remove us from the misfortunes, deceptions
and despair peculiar to life, to lead us to the splendor of
realms above, where all is happiness, power and peace.

Queen Victoria, in the work alread}^ quoted, thus ex-
presses herself:

"What is death? Nothing but the separation of the soul
from its earthly case. What becomes of the case when it is

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 3 1 3

cast aside? Does it vanish from God's creation? No; it falls
to dust and ashes, and is mingled with the rest of the earth,
whose nutritive elements formed it in the beginning. It does
not leave creation, but remains there awaiting another des-
tiny.

^'But what becomes of the soul stripped of its veil? Does
it vanish from God's creation? Oh, no! How could it be
possible for the nobler element to cease to exist when the viler
is imperishable?

"Must we believe that it has been removed from the in-
finite multitude of created beings, because it has thrown off
the veil through which it alone could reveal its presence to
our senses? No, it lives; for its very dust which once served
to enwrap it still exists. It lives; for God creates and does
not annihilate. It lives; for in his sovereign wisdom he could
not repent in any sort for the high destiny for which he gave
it being.

*'Isitthen so painful to cast off this earthly veil? In
truth, the natural love of life which the Creator has so deeply
implanted within us, inspires us with fear at the idea of part-
ing with our mortal form; but the power of the human mind
can triumph over the terrors of nature. How many generous
men have faced death for their God, their country, their faith,
and their friends? Death had no terrors for them. How many
poor, weak, degenerate beings, driven by despair, have volun-
tarily laid down the life which had become a burden to them?

"Dying men do not dissimulate, and we can judge by
their features what is going on in their mind. From such
study it would seem almost as if the soul must experience an
agreeable sensation at the moment it lays aside its mortal
spoil, for it has been often observed that the features of per-
sons dying of painful maladies assume at the final instant an
expression of calm serenity, while a peaceful smile quivers on
the lips of the lifeless body, left there by the departing soul —
a smile which seems to say: 'Ah, what relief ! ' "

Victor Hugo has aptly translated this idea in the follow-
ing verses in his "Contemplations:"
*'Oh, death! O, moment grand! O, mortuary rays!
Hast thou ne'er turned the sheet from dear, dead face,
Whil^ others wept and stood beside the bed —
Friends brothers, children, mother with hanging head,

3 1 4 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

Distracted, sobbing, of wild grief the prey —

Hast seen a smile across the dead man's features stray?

He groaned, he choked, he died just now;

And yet he smiles. Dread gulf, oh, whence and now

Cometh that light seen on the face of death's unwilling slave?

What is the tomb? Whence cometh, O thinker grave.

The awful calmness on each dead face we see?

It is that the secret is out, it is that the spirit is free;

It is that the soul, all-seeing, all-shining, all-burning, so
bright,

Laughs aloud, and the body itself takes part in its fearful de-
light."

Further on the poet reflects as follows, in the cemetery of
Villequier, where his daughter lies buried:

AT VILLEQUIER.

Now, O my God! I have the calmer woe;

Able the while I weep
To see the stone where in night well I know

She does forever sleep.
Now that made softer by these sights divine —

Plain, forest, valley, river, rocks and sky —
Viewing myself by these vast works of thine,

Reason returns before immensity.
Father and Lord, in whom we must believe,

I come, perverse no more;
Shreds of the heart thy glory fills, receive.

Shattered by thee of yore.
I come to thee, O Lord, who art, I know,

O living God! good, merciful and kind.
I own that you alone know what you do,

That men are reeds that tremble in the wind.
I say the tomb in which the dead is shut

Opens the heavenly hall;
And what we here for end of all things put,

Is the first step of all.
Now, on my knees I own, O Lord, august!

The real, the absolute belong to thee;
I own that it is good, I own it just.

My heart should bleed, since such is God's decree.
Whate'er may happen, I resist no more,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 315

But in thy will compl}^
The soul from loss to loss, from shore to shore,

Rolls to eternity.
We never see more than a single side;

The other plunged in night's dread mystery.
Man feels the yoke: thou dost the causes hide —

Brief, useless, fleeting, all that meets his eye.
Thou makest a perpetual solitude,

Wrap all his steps around;
Thou hast not seen it fit that certitude

Or joy should here be found.
Whatever good he has fate takes away;

Naught can he call his own in life's quick flight.
So that he here can make a home or say,

**Here is my house, my field, or my delight."
All sights he may but for a moment see, — •

Must age, unhelped, alone.
Since things are thus, 'tis that they so must be;

I own it — yes, I own.
Dark is the world! The changeless harmony,
O God, of cries as well as songs is made.
Man but a speck in dread infinity;

Night where the good mount up and sink the bad.
He asserts still more clearly his belief in the resurrection
of the human being, the individual, in the following passage,
which we quote, concluding with them these thoughts from
great authors:

*'Some day, soon perhaps, the same hour which struck for
the son will strike for the father. His turn will come. He will
wear the look of one sleeping; he will be laid between four
boards; he will be that unknown quantity called a dead man,
and he will be carried to the great, gloomy opening. There
the new-comer is awaited by those who went before. The new-
comer is welcome. What seems the exit is to him the entrance.
The eye of the flesh closes, the eye of the spirit opens, and the
invisible becomes visible. While shovelsful of earth fall on the
dark and echoing bier, the mysterious soul forsakes that gar-
ment, the body, and rises in light from the gathering shadows.
Then, for that soul those who have vanished reappear, and
those truly living, whom in earthly darkness we call the dead,
softly call to the new-comer, and bending over his dazzled

3 1 6 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

face, wear that radiant smile worn amid the stars. Thus shall
the laborer depart, leaving, if he has played his part well, some
regrets behind him, and at the same time being received with
jo}^ in eternal day.

^^ Everything ends under six feet of earth? No; everything
begins. No; everything germinates. No; everything blossoms,
and grows, and springs up, and bursts forth.

*' I believe in immortality — not in the immortality of the
name, which is but smoke; but in the enduring life of the in-
dividual. I believe in it, I feel myself immortal.

''Yes, I believe in God and in another life.

''If I face death with a calm smile, it is because I believe
in a future life. And note that I am on my guard against the
caresses which we bestow on our ideas to the end that they
may become opinions. But here is an absolute conviction. I
J^elieve — I say more, I am sure — that we do not utterly and
wholly die, and that our ego survives.

"•Yes, I believe profoundly in this better world; it is far
more real to me than this wretched chimera which we devour
and which we call life. I believe in it with all the strength of
my conviction; and after many struggles, much study and many
trials, it is the supreme certainty of my reason, as it is the
supreme consolation of my soul."

Therefore, let us have no fear of death. What is laid in
the tomb is not ourselves, but simply the material wrapping of
our souls. This wrapping perishes in obedience to the laws of
chemical decomposition; but the soul, which is our true in-
dividuality, does not disappear — it goes on to pursue a fresh
career in the skies. The body is the cloak of the soul; the
body is changed to dust, the soul is changed to light.

Sometimes during stormy nights, which cover the abode of
the dead with darkness, light flames escaping from the soil
flicker in the heavy air. Naturalists call them will-'' o-the-wisps ;
chemists, carburetted hydrogen gas; spiritual philosophers and
poets, as well as the common people, regard them as souls of
the dead rising from the tomb.

We do not shudder when we see various parts of our bodies
perish. If we cut our hair or our nails, or if we lose a limb by
a surgical operation, we do not disturb ourselves about those
lopped-off portions of our personality which are left to decay-
Why, then, dread its total destruction?

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 317

Our bodily substance is perpetually changing; and physi-
ologists, such as Buffon and Flourens, have ascertained that
the human body is renewed in all its parts once in every seven
years. These are so many bodily deaths, which do not alarm
us in the least.

If you dread death, it is because you have, at some time,
gazed on a human corpse with terror, and told yourself that
you would some day enter the same state. But if your eyes had
never beheld this sad sight, you would be free from the agonies
that you feel at the idea of death. For, we repeat, that which
is laid in the tomb is not you, but only your earthly garment;
and you have too often renewed that fleshy garb, without sus-
pecting it, to dread its final destruction.

When the worm, become a butterfly, leaves on the ground
or on a branch the frail shell which once contained it, does it
trouble itself about the worthless remnant which it abandons
to the wind?

It is important, besides, fully to take in the idea that the
instant of the separation of soul and body is inappreciable.
Just as we pass from a waking to a sleeping state without any
knowledge of the precise moment when the change is effected,
so, too, we pass without knowing it, and without pain, from
life to death. The sort of pleasant prostration which we feel
when we fall asleep gives us some idea of the vague and happy
sensation which must prevail at the supreme moment when
the torch of our existence is extinguished.

Our last moments are so far from painful that many per-
sons have been able coldly to describe the successive symp-
toms proclaiming their speedy death. We may quote the case
of Professor Richet (of the Institute), who died in January,
1892, of inflammation of the chest, and described to those
around him with the greatest precision the successive phe-
nomena which revealed the effusion of the lungs and the
growth of the disease, and who predicted, with assured and
peaceful look, the instant when he should draw his last
breath.

Dr. Trousseau's death was most singular, for up to the
last he described the progressive phases of his disease, and
ceased to give a sort of clinical lecture of himself only when
he ceased to live.

3 1 8 THE ENCYCL OFyEDIA OF DBA TH

Haller, the famous physiologist of the nineteenth century,
felt his own pulse as he lay dying, and said quietly: **The
pulse still beats — the pulse still beats; it has ceased to beat! "
and he expired without another word, without a groan.

Chirac, a physician of Montpelier, in the eighteenth cen-
tury, fancying on his death-bed that he was himself called to
a patient, seized his own arm, felt his pulse, and exclaimed:
''You sent for me too late! You should have bled this man;
you should have purged him; now he is a dead man!" and he
closed his eyes never again to open them.

Dr. Baillarger, a member of the Academy of Medicine at
Paris, who died in 1891, faded away gently and 'almost with-
out pain. He retained complete possession of all his faculties
up to the last moment. A few moments before he died, hav-
ing talked with Professor Potain, who, together with Desnos
and Guyon, had charge of his case, he asked one of his daugh-
ters to read him an article from the medical dictionary upon a
certain morbid symptom which he felt at the moment. The
reading over, he made a brief remark about the symptom in
question, and turned on his pillow. A few seconds later he
was no more.

"I feel the approach of death, and I feel it with joy,"
said Berthollet to his friend Chaptal, who was trying to reas-
sure him. *' Why should I fear it? I have never done any
evil, and in my last hour I have the comforting thought that
the friendship which has united us for more than forty years,
and of which you have given so many proofs to me and mine,
has never been troubled for a single instant. It is given to
few men to pay such homage to themselves! That is enough
for me; I desire no other."

This fine funeral oration, uttered by dying lips, far out-
weighs the words repeated by the physiologist, Claude Ber-
nard, in his last agony: "The game's up."

Here is a touching anecdote of the last moments of the
celebrated surgeon, Philip Ricord, who died in i88g:

Sinking beneath an inflammation of the chest, Ricord
awoke suddenly towards midnight, half rose in bed, and
moved his hands in cadence, as if playing on the piano. The
doctors, Horteloup and Pigrot, who were watching beside his
bed, were greatly amazed, and took this gesture for an out-
break of delirium. Ricord, after repeating it several times

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 3x9

without the power to pronounce a sound, fell back exhausted,
the doctors unable to divine what he wanted. Soon he died.

Next day his granddaughter, a child of ten, reached Paris
with her mother, who had hastened from Algiers at the first
news of his illness. *'What a pity," said the child, <*I could
not keep the promise which I made to poor grandpapa." And
she told how she had learned to play on the piano ''Mary
Stuart's Farewell," by Niedermeyer, because her grandfather
had made her, and also Batta, the great violinist, promise that
they would play for him when he came to die, this piece which
he loved above all others.

This was the idea which haunted Ricord's mind at his last
hour. The family obtained permission to have the much-de-
sired melody played at his funeral.

Death may come during a fit of hilarity. We are told
that the stoic philosopher, Chrysippus, died of irrepressible
laughter caused by seeing a monkey eat figs.

Reydellet, in the article on "Laughter" in the ** Great
Dictionary of the Medical Science," relates that a nun seized
in the refectory with forced laughter all at once became as
motionless as a statue. This was thought to be some new
jest; on approaching her she was found to be dead.

Set aside, therefore, all those hideous images of death
which arise solely from the sight of a motionless and icy hu-
man body. Let those who surround the dead shed no tears;
for they may see on the colorless lips and in the dim eyes a
vague smile at the delights perceived by those who have
just entered into a better world.

NO PAIN AT THE LAST MOMENT.

Henry Ward Beecher said: " Generally there is no pain
at the last moment, for it seems that the body suffers in pro-
portion to its remoteness from death. It is commonly sup-
posed that evil men die in great horror of their doom. They
don't. Wicked men usually pass out of life as tranquilly as
anyone else. Tranquillity is the law of decadence. Pain or
exquisite pleasure at the last are only experienced in excep-
tional cases. Men suffer more every day of their lives than
they do in dying. Every man subject to the incursions of rheu-
matic affections, or to the pangs of toothache, suffers a hun-
dred times more than he will when he is on his death-bed. No

320 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

death is more painless than sudden death. Livingstone re-
cords his experience when sprung upon and struck down by
a lion. The moment when the beast was on him was one of
the most exquisite tranquilHty. No death is too sudden for
him who is doing his duty. Not the stroke of the Hghtning;
not the fall from the precipice. Right living is the correct
road to right dying, and no man need fear death."

No one could possibly brave the successive stages of death,
if not in perfect harmony w4th God's laws. When the vital
forces are waging a resolute warfare, then there is sometimes
great pain experienced; but when they cease their efforts death
comes as peacefully and tranquilly as sleep to the infant re-
posing on its mother's breast.

NO CONSCIOUSNESS OF PAIN.

Dr. James M. Peebles says: * ^Accidental death being a
shock of nature, usually commences at the heart or brain.
This condition is technically called coma, and the dying first
lose control of their physical sensations and volitions. The
muscles lose their power of action; the heart fails to get its
nervous supply from the brain; the physical contortions in-
crease till death closes the scene. And yet in these last hours
there was probably no consciousness of pain. The physical
organism is so constituted that it can endure only a certain
amount of pain and suffering; when these limits are reached
imconsciousness mercifully ensues. There is no pain in phys-
ical death. The dread of death is educational — the fear is
only comparable to the fear of the young bird to trust its
wings. The spasms, throes and seeming anguish attending
the last hours of earthly life are no proof of pain, but rather
do they show the strugglings of the spirit to release itself from
the impaired, outworn body.'

DROWNING DELICIOUS.

Says Rev. O. B. Frothingham, in a printed sermon on
the paternal aspect of providence: "One who narrowly es-
caped death by drowning told me that the process of it after
the first moment of agony was too delicious to describe. To
die of cold," he continues, 'Ms, when the first pangs are over,
a luxury, for the senses are steeped in slumber, a soft numb-
ness taking possession of the brain, an irresistible lethargy

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 321

overpowers the will, ravishing visions float before the imag-
ination, and in ecstasy the spirit takes its flight."

A POEM OF RESIGNATION.

In the course of a message given through Mrs. Danskin,
the communicating spirit said: "Emily Ward was my name,
the wife of George Ward, the daughter of Samuel Joyce. It
was at Rye, New York, that I died. A beautiful poem is the
resignation of death. When no clouds flit over the vision of
the one to whom death comes, truly may it be called the poem
of resignation. The lips may be silent when death is unclos-
ing the prison-house, but the brain is active in thought. The
freedom which is given to the spirit in the land of no death is
more beautiful thafi I have words to describe. Before deep
consideration was mine, I thought death was terrible, but af-
ter I learned that God was love, that wisdom was His, that all
his attributes were good, I then knew within myself that what
He had fashioned with His own hand He could not cast
wholly from Himself, and I have not been mistaken."

THE SENSATION OF FREEZING.

It is certainly painful and disagreeable to be sick, but it is
an intense satisfaction to know that the last stages of death are
accompanied by no pain whatever, only so far as regrets may
be experienced. Even the various stages of freezing to death
do not seem to cause any very uncomfortable sensations. The
pleasures of freezing are set forth by a Canadian physician
who at one time enjoyed them. His tongue and then his arips
became stiff, sharp chills ran down his back, and finally it
seemed as though his whole body had congealed, causing an
almost entire cessation of the heart's action. This condition
of suffering speedily gave place to a grateful warmth, which
seemed to suffuse the system and cause an exhilarating glow.
He was driving, and by this time had reached a house, but he
went on, thinking that nothing was now to be feared. The
sleigh appeared to him to glide through the air with great
swiftness, and the horses seemed to fly like birds. A sense of
exultation filled him, and he urged the beasts to greater speed.
The woods on each side of the road were passed so quickly
that they became indistinguishable black lines. Then the jingle
of bells sounded further and further away until they passed out

322 THE ENCYCL GP^DIA OF DEA TH

of hearing in the distance. He fell gradually into a delicious
slumber, which came near being the sleep of death.

DEATH NOT DREADFUL.

Rev. C. Ware, in Medium and Daybreak, England, says:
*' *Man dieth and wastes away, man giveth up the ghost.'
*'This is according to appearance; the fact is that man
does not give up the ghost at all — he gives up the body. Man
has a threefold nature — the divine principle of life called the
spirit, then the refined spiritual form consisting of subtle ele-
ments, which for want of a better name we call magnetism,
called by Judge Edmonds the electrical body; lastly the gross
outer physical system. The purpose of the physical body is to
be a basis for the development and growth of the inner life
from babyhood to manhood; it is merely the husk to protect
the real being while it is Hpening for the spiritual kingdom;
and the meaning of death is that the spiritual form has served
its purpose and drops off, ushering the spiritual man into a
spiritual world — opening his eyes to a world of realities which
surrounded him, though unseen, whilst living the earthly life.
*< Death, then, is a simple transition, taking place in the
order of nature, in analogy with what we see taking place in
the lower forms of organic life, such as the dropping of the
husk from the ripened fruit, the liberation of the beautiful but-
terfly from its chrysalis form. When the person has lived
rightly this event is anything but dreadful. The change is
usually, accompanied with the most agreeable and delightful
sensations, our information on this matter being received from
spirits themselves, and this being their uniform testimony.
They compare it to the passing from a dark room into a bright
one; awakening from a troubled dream to the realities of life;
emerging from a dark tunnel into the splendor of day. The
death of the body is neither a king of terrors nor the penalty of
sin; these terms are only applicable to the condition of the
spirit when degraded by a coarse and vicious life. Physical
dissolution is a natural event in the economy of existence, the
throwing off of the outer covering, to set the spirit free to
.enter its own proper realm."

SUFFER NO PAIN.
Dr. Edward Clark, in ''Visions," says the dying suffer no
pain. '^The rule is that unconsciousness, not pain, attends

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 323

the final act. To the subject of it death is no more painful
than birth. Painlessly we come, painlessly we go. Nature
kindly provides an anaesthetic for the body when the spirit
leaves it. Previous to that moment and in preparation for it,
respiration becomes feeble, generally slow and short, often
accompanied by long inspiration and short, sudden expirations,
so that the blood is steadily less and less oxygenated, At the
same time the heart acts with corresponding debility, producing
a slow, feeble and often irregular pulse. As this progress goes
on the blood is not onty driven to the head with diminished
force and in less quantity, but what flows there is loaded more
and more with carbonic acid gas, a powerful anaesthetic, the
same as that derived from charcoal. Subject to its influence
the nerve centers lose consciousness and sensibility, apparent
sleep creeps over the system, then stupor, and then the end."

324 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

Dyii\<^ Wor6s oF Distii\gaisKe6 Persoivs.

THE RESULT OF MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY OF LABOR.

A WONDERFUL STUDY, THESE LAST WORDS THEY CARRY THE

READER BACK TO THE DYING-BED THEY REVEAL HUMAN

CHARACTERISTICS IN A MARKED DEGREE.

*We have several requests of more than a year's standing
to pubHsh a collection of the " Dying Words of Noted Per-
sons." The following collection has been ihe result of more
than a quarter of a century, gathered from various sources.
Several of the persons are credited with different words, and
some of them as having been uttered under different circum-
stances. We have generally given all the words, though from
different authorities. It is the largest collection ever, pub-
lished, so far as we know, containing those of two hundred
and fifty-eight persons.

Charles Abbott (Lord Tenterden, Chief Justice of the
Court of King's Bench) — Gentlemen of the jury, you may re-
tire.

Abimelech, "son of Gideon, (when hit in the head by a
piece of millstone thrown by a woman, he called a man to
slay him with his sword) — That men say not of me, a woman
slew him (Judges ix.,54).

Dr. Adams, rector of Edinburgh High School, (In a de-
lirium)— It grows dark; boys, you may go.

John Adams — Independence forever.

John Quincy Adams — It is the last of earth.

Addison — See how a Christian can die.

Alexander II., of Russia, (when wounded) — Take me to
the palace, there to die.

♦Notes and Queries, Vol. 2, No. 32, published by S. C. aud L M. Gould, Manchester, N. H

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 325

Alexander III. — This box was presented to me by the
Emperor of Prussia.

Alfieri — Clasp my hand, dear friend; I die.

Daughter of Ethan Allen — Shall I believe what you
have taught me, or what mother has taught me? (Mr. Allen
answered: "Believe yowx mother.")

Anaxagoras — Give the boys a holiday.

Andre — I pray you bear me witness that I met my fate
like a brave man.

Major John Andre (hanged as a spy) — Must I die in this
manner?

Archimedes (when ordered to leave Syracuse) — When I
have finished this problem.

Arria — My Paetus, it is not painful.

Augustus (after asking how he acted his part in life) —
Vos plaudite (You applaud).

Augustus C^sar — Have I not played the farce of life
well?

Thomas Avery — Never mind, father!

M. Bailey (the French patriot, who was about to be de-
capitated)— It is cold.

John de Barneveld (to the executioner) — Be quick, man,
be quick.

Cardinal Beaufort — And must I then die? Will not my
riches save me? What! is there no bribing death?

Cardinal Henry Beaufort — I pray you all, pray for me.

Thomas a Becket — I confide my soul and the cause of the
church of God, to the Virgin Mary, to the patron saints of
this church, and St. Dennis.

The Venerable Bede — "Glory bd to the Father and to
the Son, and to the . "

Beethoven (deaf) — I shall hear.

Madame de Bois Beranger (to her mother, who w s ex-
ecuted, together with her father, brother and sister) — Why are
you not happy? You die innocent, and all your family follow
you, to partake with you the recompense of virtue.

Madame de Berry — Is not this dying with true courage
and true greatness?

BoiLEAU — It is a great consolation to a poet about to die
that he has never written anything injurious to virtue.

326 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

Anne Boleyn (clasping the neck of her daughter) — It is
small, very small.

J. Wilkes Booth — Useless, useless!

Marco Bozzaris — To die for liberty is a pleasure and not
a pain.

Hon. David C. Broderick (to Col. E. D. Baker) — Baker,
when I was struck, I tried to stand firm, but the blow blinded
me and I could not.

Bronte (Charlotte's father), who died standing — While
there is life there is will.

John Brown (to the hangman) — No; I am ready at any
time. But do not keep me needlessly waiting.

Bishop Broughton — Let the earth be filled with His glory.

Admiral Brueys — An admiral ought to die giving orders.

Ole Bull — Please play Mozart's ''Requiem."

John Bunyan — Take me, for I come to thee.

Robert Burns — Don't let the awkward squad fire over my
grave.

Lieut. William Burrows — I am satisfied; I die content.

Byron — I must sleep now.

Julius Caesar — Et tu. Brute! (And thou, Brutus!).

Col. James Cameron (killed at Bull Run): — Scots, follow
me.

Gen. William Campbell — I die contented.

Castlereagh, the English premier, (said to Dr. Bank-
head) — Bankhead, let me fall into your arms.

Catesby (one of the gunpowder plot) — Stand by me, Tom,
and we will die together.

Dr. Robert Chambers — Quite comfortable; quite happy;
nothing more.

Charlemagne — Lord, ''Into thy hands I commend my
spirit!" (Luke xxiii., 46).

Charles I., of England, to William Juxon, Archbishop of
Canterbury — Remember.

Charles II., of England — Don't let poor Nelly [Nell
Gwynn] starve.

Charles V. — Ah! Jesus.

Charles IX., of France — Nurse, nurse, what murder! what
blood! Oh! I have done wrong. God pardon me!

Princess Charlotte — You make me drink. Pray leave
me quiet. I find it al|«jcts my head.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 327

Lord Chesterfield — Give Day Rolles a chair.

Cicero (to his murderers) — Strike.

Col. Cilley — I am shot.

Sir Edward Coke — ''Thy will be done" (Matthew vi., 10).

Columbus — Lord, '' Into thy hands I commend my spirit! "
(Luke xxiii., 46).

CoNDE, Duke of Enghein, (shot by order of Napoleon) — I
die for my King and for France.

Prince Consort — I have such sweet thoughts.

Alford Cookman — I am sweeping through the gates,
washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Copernicus — Now, O Lord, set free thy servant.

CouMOURGi — O, that I could thus serve all the Christian
dogs!

Cranmer — *'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" (Acts vii., 59).

Archbishop Cranmer (holding his right hand in the
flame) — The unworthy hand. ''Lord, receive my spirit." (Acts
vii., 59).

Cratesclea (wife of King Cleomenes, her children just
having been murdered before her own eyes) — O, my children!

CoL. Crawford (to Wingenund, an Indian Chief) — My fate
'*" then fixed, and I must prepare to meet death in its worst form;

Lieut. Crittenden (shot on being ordered to kneel) — I
will kneel only to my God.

John Crome — O Hobbima, O Hobbima, how I do love thee!

Cromwell — My desire is to make what haste I may to be
gone.

Cromwell — Then I am safe.

Darius — Friend, this fills up the measure of my misfor-
tunes, to think that I am not able to reward thee for this act
of kindness. But Alexander will not let thee go without a
recompense; and the gods will reward Alexander for his hu-
manity to my mother, to my wife, and to my children. Tell
them I gave up my hand, for I gave it to thee in his stead.

DeLagny (being asked to square twelve) — One hundred
and forty-four.

Demonax — You may go home, the show is over.

Earl Derby — Douglass, I would give all my lands to save
thee.

DeSoto — ^A draught of water! Quick! Quick! for the love
of heaven.

328 THE ENCYCL OPAiDIA OF DBA TH

Count Donop — I die a victim and an avarice to my sov-
ereign.

Stephen A. IJouglas — Death! Death! Death!

Earl Douglass — Fight on, my merry men.

Madame Dudevant [George Sand] — Laissez la verdure
(leave the green) [meaning, leave the tomb green, do not cover
it over with bricks or stones].

King Edward, of Great Britain — Jesus!

Edward, the martyr, (one of the six boy kings) — Health.

Edward VI. — I am faint; Lord have mercy on me; receive
my spirit.

Jonathan Edwards — Trust in God, and you need not fear.

Col. E. Ellsworth — He who noteth even the fall of a
sparrow will have some purpose even in the fate of one like me.

Edmund (one of the six boy kings) — No!

Lord Elden — It matters not, where I am going, whether
the weather be cold or hot.

Queen Elizabeth — All my possessions for a moment of
time.

Princess Elizabeth, of France, (when her handkerchief
fell from her neck on her way to the scaffold) — In the name of
modesty, I entreat you to cover my bosom.

Elphage — You urge me in vain; I am not the man to pro-
vide Christian flesh for pagan teeth, by robbing my flocks to
enrich their enemies.

Erasmus — Domine! Domine! fac finem! fac finem!

Farr — "Lord, receive my spirit" (Acts vii., 59).

John Felcon — I am the man.

Fontenelle — I suffer nothing, but feel a sort of difficulty
in living longer.

Franklin — A dying man can do nothing easy. *

Frederick V. — There is not a drop of blood on my hands.

General Eraser — Fatal ambition; poor General Bur-
goyne!

Gainsborough — We all are going to heaven, and Vandyke
is of the company.

David Garrick — O, dear!

Elizabeth Gaunt — I have obeyed the sacred command of
God to give refuge to the outcast and not to betray the wan-
derer.

George IV. (to his page, Sir Wathen Waller) — Watty,

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 329

what is this? It is death, my boy. They have deceived me.

Gibbon — Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!

Sir Humphrey Gilbert, half-brother of Sir Walter
Raleigh, lost at sea, (to his companions in another vessel) —
We are as near heaven by sea as on the land.

Goethe — More Light!

Goethe — Let the light enter.

Goldsmith (in answer to the question: **Is your mind at
ease?") — No, it is not.

Goliath, of Gath, (to David) — Come to me and I will
give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of
the field (I.Samuel xvii., 44).

Gregory VII. — I have loved justice and hated iniquity,
therefore I die an exile.

Lady Jane Grey — Lord, "Into thy hands I commend my
spirit" (Luke xxiii., 46).

Grotius — Be serious.

King Gustavus Adolphus — My God!

Nathan Hale — I only regret that I have only one life to
lose for my country.

Alexander Hamilton (to Bishop More and Rev. Dr. Ma-
son)— I have no ill will against Colonel Burr. I met him with
a fixed determination to do him no harm. I forgive all that
happened.

Haller — The artery ceases to beat.

Hannibal — Let me now relieve the Romans of their fears.

Thomas Hansford — Take notice, I die a loyal subject to,
and a lover of, my country.

William H. Harrison — Sir, I wish you to understand the
principles of government; I wish them carried out; I ask
nothing more.

Haydn — God preserve the Emperor!

Hazlett — I have led a happy life.

Hedley Vicars — Cover my face.

Henry, of Montfort — Is any quarter given?

Henry II.— Now, let the world go as it will, I care for
nothing more.

Prince Henry, son of Henry II. — O, tie a rope around
my body, and draw me out of bed, and lay me down upon the
ashes, that I may die with prayers to God in a repentant man-
ner.

330 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

Henry III. — I am Harry, of Winchester.

Henry VHL— Monks! Monks! Monks!

Herbert — Now, Lord, Lord, receive my soul.

George Herbert — Lord, receive my spirit (Acts vii., 59).

Captain Herndon — I will never leave the ship.

HoBBS — Now I am about to take my last voyage — a great
leap in the dark.

Andreas Hoffer (shot at Mantua) — I will not kneel!
Fire!

Hooper — Lord, receive my spirit (Acts vii., 59).

Com. Isaac Hull — Bury me in my uniform.

Alexander von Humboldt — How grand these rays; they
seem to beckon earth to heaven.

Dr. William Hunter — If I had strength to hold a pen,
I would write down how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die.

Irving — If I die, I die unto the Lord. Amen.

JoCEN — Brethren, there is no hope for us with the Chris-
tians, who are hammering at the gates and walls and who
must soon break in. As we and our wives and children must
die, either by Christian hands, or by our own, let it be by our
own. Let us destroy by fire what jewels and other treasures
we have here, then fire the castle, and then perish.

''Stonewall" Jackson — Send A. P. Hill to the front.

''Stonewall" Jackson — Let us cross over the river and
rest in the shade of the trees.

Jacob the Patriarch — I am to be gathered unto my peo-
ple; bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of
Ephron the Hittite; there I buried Leah (Genesis xlix., 30).

James V., of Scotland — It [the Scotch crown] came with
a lass, and will go with a lass.

Sergeant Jasper, wounded at Savannah, (to Major Hor-
rey) — I have got my furlough. That sword was presented to
me by Governor Rutledge for defence of Fort Moultrie.
Give it to my father^ and tell him I have worn it with honor.
Tell Mrs. Elliott I lost my life in supporting the colors which
she presented to our regiment.

Thomas Jefferson — I resign my spirit to God, my daughter
to my country.

Jesus Christ — It is finished (John xix., 30).

Jesus Christ — Father, into thy hands I commend my
spirit (Luke xxiii., 46).

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 331

Joan-of-Arc — God be blessed.

Joan-of-Arc (at the stake, ending her eventful and stormy
life) — Jesus.

Dr. Johnson (to Miss Morris) — God bless you, my dear!

Joseph the Patriarch — God will surely visit you, and ye
shall carry up my bones from hence (Genesis 1., 25).

Josephine — Isle of Elba. Napoleon.

Bishop Ken — God's will be done.

Philip Barton Key (to Daniel E. Sickles) — Don't shoot me.

Knox — Now it is come.

Charles Lamb (after the most self-sacrificing existence,
wrote his last words to a friend) — My bedfellows are cramp
and cough; we three sleep in a bed.

Bishop Latimer (to Bishop Ridley) — Be of good comfort,
Doctor Ridley, and play the man; we shall this day light such
a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be
put out.

Capt. James Lawrence — Don't give up the ship.

Robert E. Lee — Have A. P. Hill sent for.

Leicester — By the arm of St. James it is time to die!

Leoff (murderer of Edmund) — No, by the Lord.

Sir George Lisle — Ah! but I have been nearer to you,
my friend, many a time, and you have missed me.

Dr. David Livingstone — I am cold; put more grass on the
hut.

John Locke (to Lady Masham, who was reading the
Psalms) — Cease now.

John Locke — ''O the depths of the riches, both of the
wisdom and knowledge of God." (Romans, xi., 33).

Louis I. (turning his face to the wall) — Huz! Huz! (out,
out).

Louis IX. — I will enter now into the house of the Lord.

Louis XIV. — Why weep ye? Did you think I should live
forever. I thought dying had been harder.

Louis XIV. (on the scaffold) — Frenchmen, I die innocent
of the crimes imputed to me. I pray that my blood may not
fall upon France.

Louis XVIII. — A king should die standing.

Malesherbes (to the priest) — Hold your tongue; your
wretched style only makes me out of conceit with them.

332 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF BE A TH

Hon. E. D. Mansfield (of Morrow, Ohio,) — O death,
where is thy .

MiRABEAu — Surround me with perfumes and the flowers
of spring; dress my hair with care, and let me fall asleep amid
the sound of delicious music.

Marat, stabbed by Charlotte Corday, (to his house-
keeper)— Help; help me, my dear.

Aymerigot Marcel — Why should I make a long story of it?

Margaret, of Scotland, (wife of Louis IX. of France) —
Fi de la vie! qu'on ne m'en parle plus.

Marie Antoinette — Farewell, my children, forever.

Marie Antoinette — My God, enlighten and affect my ex-
ecutioner. Adieu, my children, my beloved ones, forever! I
am going to your father.

Marmion — Victory! Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stan-
ley, on! — (Canto vi., Stanza 32).

Bloody Mary — When I am dead, and my body is open, ye
will find Calais written on my heart.

Mary, Queen of Scots — ''Into thy hands," O Lord, ''I
commend my spirit." (Luke xxiii., 46).

Massaniello (to his assassins) — Ungrateful traitors!

Charles Matthews — I am ready.

Emperor Maximilian, of Mexico, (concerning his wife,
who was afterwards insane) — Poor Carlotta.

Cardinal Mazarin- — O my poor soul, whither wilt thou go?

Sergeant McDaniel — Fight on, bo3^s; don't let liberty
die with me.

Melancthon (to the question, ''Do you want any-
thing?")— Nothing but heaven.

Michael Angelo — My soul I resign to God, my body to
the earth, and my worldly goods to my next of kin.

Hugh Miller — My dear, dear wife, farewell!

Mirabeau — Let me die to the sounds of delicious music.

Mohammed — O Allah, be it so! Henceforth among the
glorious hosts of paradise.

Mohammed — Lord, pardon me; and place me among those
whom thou hast raised to grace and favor.
. Richard Montgomery — Come on!

Moody (the actor) — ''Reason thus with life, if I dolose
thee, I do lose a thing that none but fools could keep"
(Measure for Measure, Act iii., Scene i).

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 333

Sir John Moore — I hope my country will do me justice.
Sir John Moore — I hope the people of England will be
satisfied and the country do me justice.
Hannah More — Patty; joy!

Sir Thomas More (on the scaffold) — I pray you see me
up safe; as for my coming down, let me shift for mj'self.

Sir Thomas More — Let me put my beard out of the way,
for it, at least, has never committed any treason.

Oliver P. Morton (U. S. Senator, of Indiana,) — I am
so tired, I am worn out.

Dr. Valentine Mott (to Mrs. Isaac Bell) — My daughter!

Mozart — Let me hear once more those notes so long my
solace and my delight.

Napoleon Bonaparte — Mon Dieu! La nation Francaise!
Fete d'armee! (My God! The French nation! Head of the
army!)

Napoleon III. (to Dr. Conneau)— Were you at Sedan?

Nelson — I thank God I have done my duty.

Lord Nelson — Kiss me, Hardy.

Lord Nelson — Tell Collingwood to bring the fleet to an-
chor.

Nero — Is this your fidelity?

Nero — Quails artifex pereo! (I die like an artificer.)

Rev. B. T. Onderdonk, D. D., (to Dr. Vinton)— Of the
crimes of which I have been accused and for which I have been
condemned, my conscience acquits me in the sight of God.

Opcehancanough — Had it been my fortune to take Sir
William Berkeley prisoner, I would not have meanly exposed
him as a show to my people.

Orsini (to his fellow on the scaffold) — Try to be calm,
my friend, try to be calm.

Thomas Paine (to Dr. Manley, who asked him: ''Do you
wish to believe that Jesus is the Son of God?") — I have no
wish to believe on the subject.

Palmer (the actor on the stage) — "There is another and
better country." [This was a line in the part he was acting.]

Pascal — May God never forsake me!

Pericles, of Athens — I have never caused any citizen to
mourn on my account.

334 THE ENCYCL O P^DIA OF DEA TH

Gaston Phcebus — I am a dead man. Lord, God, have
mercy on me!

William Pitt — O, my country, how I love theel

William Pitt — Alas! My country.

PiZARRO — J esu.

Prince Poniatowsky (when the bridge over the Pleisse
was blown up) — Gentlemen, it now behooves us to die with
honor.

Bill Poole — I die a true American.

Pope — Friendship itself is but a part of virtue.

PoRTEUs (dying at the setting of the sun) — O, that glo-
rious sun!

Com. Edward Preble, U. S, N., (to his brother) — Give
me Enoch; I am going.

Rabelais — Let down the curtain; the farce is over.

Sir Walter Raleigh — It matters little how the head
lieth.

Sir Walter Raleigh (seeing the ax prepared to decap-
itate him) — It is a sharp medicine, but a sure cure for all ills.
(In answer to the question, how he would have his neck lie on
the block— If the heart be right, it matters not which way the
head lies.

Sir Walter Raleigh (to the executioner) — Why dost
thou not strike? Strike, man!

Richard I. (referring to Bertrant Goueden) — Take off
his chains, give him a hundred shillings, and let him depart.

Richard III. — Treason!

Robespierre (being taunted at the guillotine with having
caused the death of Danton)^ — Cowards! Why did you not
defend him?

Henri de la Rochijacqueline, the Vendean hero — We
go to meet the enemy. If I advance, follow me; if I flinch,
kill me; if I die, avenge me.

Madame Roland (passing the statue of Liberty on her
way to the scaffold — Oh! Liberty, how many crimes are com-
mitted in thy name!

Rousseau (to his wife) — Open the window, that I may see
the beauties of Nature.

Rufus, the Red — Shoot, Walter! shoot in the devil's
name I

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 335

Saladin — After I am dead, carry a sheet on the spear's
point to the grave, and say these words: *' These are the glo-
rious spoils which Saladin carries with him! Of all his vic-
tories and triumphs, of all his riches and realms, nothing How
remains but this winding-sheet."

Samson — Let me die with the Philistines (Judges
xvi., 30).

ScARRON — Ah, my children, you cannot cry as much for
me as I have made you laugh in my time.

Schiller — Many things are growing plain and clear to
my understanding.

Sir Walter Scott — I feel as if I were myself again.

Sir Walter Scott (to his family) — God bless you all!

Sir Walter Scott (after having heard the xivth chapter
of John read) — That is a great comfort.

Jane Seymour — No! My head never committed any trea-
son, but if you want it you can seize it.

Archbishop Sharpe — I shall be happy.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan — I am absolutely undone.

Severus — I have been everything, and everything is noth-
ing; little urn, thou shalt contain one for whom the world was
too little.

Algernon Sidney — ^'I know that my Redeemer liveth"
(Job xix., 25). I die for the good old cause.

Sir Algernon Sidney (just as his neck was laid upon the
block, his executioner asked, '^Sir Algernon, will you rise
again?'') — Not until the general resurrection; strike on!

Sir Philip Sidney — Let me behold the end of this world
with all its vanities; or, I would not change my joy for the
empire of the world.

Joseph Smith — O Lord, my God!

Socrates — Crito, we owe a cock to iEsculapius.

Philip Spencer (son of the statesman Hon. John C. Spen-
cer)— I cannot give the word.

Madame de Stael — I have loved God, my father, and
liberty.

Stephen (the first martyr) — Lay not this sin to their
charge (Acts vii., 60).

Stratford — I thank God I am no more afraid of death,
nor daunted with any discouragement arising from any fears,

336 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA Til

but do as cheerfully put off my doublet at this time as ever I
did when I went to bed.

James Stuart, the California thief — I die reconciled; my
sentence is just.

SwEDENBORG — What o'clock is it? (He was told. )It is
well; thank you, and God bless you.

Talma — The worst is, I cannot see.

Tasso — Lord, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit!"
(Luke xxiii., 46).

Zachary Taylor — I am not afraid to die; I am ready; I
have endeavored to do my duty.

Tewksberry (a noted London martyr) — Christ is all.

Lord Thurlow — I'll be shot if I don't believe I am dying.

TuRNUS — And shalt thou from me hence escape, clad in
the spoils of my friends? Thee, Pallas, Pallas, with this
wound a victim makes, and takes vengeance on thy devoted
blood (^neids Bk. xii., 1. 947).

Wat Tyler — Because they are all at my command, and
are sworn to do whatever I bid them.

William Tyndale (strangling at the stake) — Lord, open
the ears of England's King.

Sir Henry Vane — It is a bad cause that cannot bear the
words of a dying man!

Vespasian, the Roman Emperor — Ut puto dcus fio. (I
think I am becoming a god.)

Vespasian — A king should die standing.

General W. Walker (to the priest) — I am a Roman
Catholic. The war which I made on Honduras, at the sug-
gestion of certain people at Ratan, was unjust. Those who
accompanied me are not to be blamed. I alone am guilty. I
ask pardon of the people. I receive death with resignation.
Would that it were one for the good of society.

Washington — It is well.

Rudolph von der Wart, the German, (to his wife, who
attended him) — Gertrude, this is fidelity till death.

Daniel Webster — I still live.

John Wesley — The best of all is, God is with us.

John Wesley — Pray and praise.

William, of Nassau, (when shot in 1584, by Balthazar
Gerard) — O God, have mercy upon me, and upon this poo
nation!

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD, 337

William, the Conqueror — I commend my soul to Mary.

William III., of England, (to his physician) — Can this
last long?

Arnold Winkelried — Make way for liberty.

General Wolfe — I die contented.

General Wolfe — What, do they run already? Then I
die happy.

Cardinal Wolsey — Had I but served God as diligently
as I have served the king, he would not have given me over in
my gray hairs.

Cardinal Wolsey — Father Abbot, I am come to lay my
bones among you.

Thomas Wyatt (to the priest who had reminded him that
he had accused the Princess Elizabeth of treason to the coun-
cil, and that he now alleged her to be innocent) — That which
I then said I unsay, That which I now say is true.

John Ziska — Make my skin into drum-heads for the Bo-
hemians.

338 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

TKe Viev\)s oF ai\ EiTvii\ei\t Di^?ii\e.

IS IT PAINFUL TO SEPARATE THE SPIRIT FROM THE BODY?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS LOUIS XIV. DR. HUNTER ARCHBISHOP OF

CANTERBURY FRANKLIN JOHN WESLEY STONEWALL JACK-
SON— HOW IT FEELS WHILE BEING COVERED WITH EARTH.

*Many people, through fear of death, are all their lives
subject to bondage. The questions — How shall we die? When
shall we die? and Where shall we die? are continually worry-
ing them. Indeed, there have been several suicides caused by
this haunting terror of death. The thought of it made their
lives insupportable, and the}^ killed themselves in order to
know the worst. And yet it is quite possible that in respect
to the physical sensation of dying we resemble Don Quixote,
when he hung by his wrist from the stable window and imag-
ined that a tremendous abyss yawned beneath his feet. Fate,
in the character of Maritornes, cuts the thong with lightsome
laughter, and the gallant gentleman falls — four inches!

When Louis XIV. lay dying — ''Why weep you?" he
asked those who surrounded his death-bed. "Did you think
I should live forever?" Then, after a pause: ''I thought dy-
ing had been harder." Dr. Hunter was another who was
agreeably surprised by his experience of dying. His last words
were: ''If I had strength to hold a pen I would write down
how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die." A charming ac-
tress, who had been twice almost drowned, told a friend that
dying was the nicest sensation that she knew. The late Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, as his " agony" befell, quietly remarked:
"It is really nothing much, after all."

*"Is Death Painful?" by Rev. E. J. Hardy, M. A., lu "The Sunday Magazine."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 339

Hundreds of other last, or nearly last, sayings of dying
persons might be cited to prove the truth of Pliny's remark
that the departure of the soul frequently takes place without
pain, and sometimes even Avith pleasure. If the dead could
come to life again, they would all, or nearly all, we have no
doubt, tell us that Walt Whitman spoke the truth when he
said that
"Whatever happens to anybody it will be turned to beautiful

results.
And nothing can happen more beautiful than death."
And again —

''All goes outward and onward, and nothing collapses!
And to die is different to what anybody supposed — and luckier!
Every moment dies a man;
Every moment one is born."
The first experience — at least, in the case of death by old age
— is as natural as the second; why should we think that it
must necessarily be more painful? Certainly, if some men
died, and others did not, death might be considered an enemy;
but being universal, it cannot be.

He who hath bent him o'er the dead

Ere the first day of death is fled,

The first dark day of nothingness,

The last day of danger and distress,

Before Decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,

And marked the mild angelic air,

The rapture of repose that's there —

he who hath done this can hardly fail to see evidence that in
the case of the majority of people (most dead persons, even
those who perish by violence, as, for instance, in battle, have
this expression of rest and peace), death is not painful, or, at
least, not as painful as it is generally supposed to be. Per-
haps, as there is said to be a sort of numbness which takes
hold of an animal (Livingstone felt it when in the grip of a
lion) falling into the clutches of a beast of prey, so, by the
arrangement of a merciful Providence, the swoop of the last
enemy may have a narcotic effect upon its victim. I am, m}--
self, much of the opinion of the ancient thinker who said that
''death, of all estimated evils, is the only one whose presence

340 THE ENCYCL OFAiDIA OF DBA TH

never discommoded an3^body, and which only causes concern
during its absence."

A man said to Socrates: ''The Athenians have condemned
you to death." ''And Nature," he replied, "has condemned
them." We do not think that death should be looked upon
as the condemnation of nature, but rather as its happy release.
This was the light in which Columbus viewed it. When he
was old and chained in prison it was a relief to him to think
that soon he would "sail forth on the last voyage." Though
more happy in her life than the great discoverer, the famous
mathematician, Mrs. Somerville, could thus speak of the same
voyage: "The Blue Peter has long been flying at my fore-
mast, and now that I am in my ninety-second year I must soon
expect the signal for sailing. It is a solemn voyage, but it
does not disturb my tranquillity. I trust in the infinite mercy
of my Almighty Creator."

By the ancient Greeks death was considered simply as a
destroyer. To them it was the last and most bitter of foes.
Achilles in Hades says to Odysseus: "Nay, speak not com-
fortably to me of death. Rather would I live upon the earth
the hireling of another than bear sway over all the dead that
are no more." The Christian is saved from this "inward hor-
ror of falling into naught." To him death is not the king of
terrors, but the tender consoler; not the end of life, but the
beginning of a higher and nobler state. And surely to an
overwrought and weary age this conception is very soothing:

Sleep after toyle, port after stormy seas,

Ease after warre, death after life, doth greatly please.

"I look upon death," says Franklin, " to be as necessary to
our constitution as sleep. We shall rise refreshed in the morn-
ing."

"Death once dead, there's no more dying then." It is
a friend and not an enemy, coming, as it does, from the love
that loves on to the endless end. One by one God calls those
bound to us by natural ties into His silence; He prepares a
home and kindred for us yonder, while giving life to us here;
and thus, in His tenderness. He delivers us from the fear of
death. For many, when the "last enemy" comes, to shake
his insolent spear in their face, Agag's question is their an-
swer: "Surely the bitterness of death is past."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 341

**When thou passest through the waters I will be with
thee, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee."
When Bunyan in his immortal allegory draws a picture full of
pathos and dignity, of Christian and Hopeful wading through
deep waters to the Celestial City, he puts these words into
Hopeful's lips to soothe the tremors of his friend. Every day
thousands of God's true servants are sustained in their last
earthly experience by being able to realize this Presence.

When death is bitter, it is so, as a general rule, far more
by reason of anxiety and remorse than from physical causes.
A man, for instance, can scarcely die easily if he is leaving a
widow and family for whom provision has not been made. The
medical man who attended Oliver Goldsmith in his last hour
asked him if there was anything on his mind, as he could not
account for his temperature being so high. The poet admitted
that there was. Debt was upon his mind. To some it is
riches and not poverty that renders death painful. When Gar-
rick showed to Dr. Johnson his palatial residence, the latter
said: ''Ah, David, these are the things that make death ter-
rible. " Yet, even in a palace life may be well led, and I have
known rich men who had learned to sit loose to the things of
earth and to be quite ready to give them up. A clever medical
man once said to me: ''You persons do much harm by making
people afraid to die. You should rather teach them to look
upon death as their best friend." Of course, I told him that
it is not clergymen but their own consciences that make people
afraid to die, and that it is our business to point to Him "who
hath abolished death and hath brought life and immortality to
light through the Gospel."

Think not I dread to see my spirit fly

Through the dark gates of fell immortality;

Death has no terrors where the life is true;
'Tis living ill that makes us fear to die.

" 'Tis living ill," and not parsons, that makes people fear to die.
A minister in a remote part of Scotland was once visiting
the death-bed of an aged member of his congregation. " Well,
my friend,/ said the minister, "how do you feel yourself to-
day?" "Very weel, sir," was the calm and solemn answer.
"Very weel, birt just a wee bit confused with the flittin'." It
even a good man is in this way confused with the flittin', how

342 THE ENC YCL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

can those who in youth and health and strength have never
given a thought to that part of Hfe's business which consists
in preparing to leave it — how can they expect to be calm and
collected on their death-beds, and to have peace at the last?

John Wesley was once asked by a lady: ** Suppose you
knew that you were to die at 12 o'clock to-morrow night, how
would you spend the intervening time?" *'How, madame,"
he replied, **why, just as I intend to spend it now. I should
preach this night at Gloucester, and again at five to-morrow
morning. After that I should ride to Tewkesbury, preach in
the afternoon, and meet the societies in the evening. I should
then repair to friend Martin's house, who expects to entertain
me, converse and pray with the family as usual, retire to my
bed at ten o'clock, commend myself to my heavenly Father, lie
down to rest, and wake up in glory."

The mother of the poet Goethe, who was a strong-minded
and humorous woman, happened to receive an invitation to a
party when on her death-bed, from some one who did not
know she was ill. She thus replied to it: *' Madame Goethe
is sorry that she cannot accept your invitation, as she is en-
gaged dying." It is not only when we come to our death-beds
that we are engaged dying. It is a physiological fact that
death borders upon our birth, and that our cradle stands in
the grave.

From hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot.

In this sense we all " die daily," whether we like it or not.
Well for those who can use these words in the higher sense
in which St. Paul used them — who can feel that they are ready
to die every day they live. This was the aim of the Christian
soldier, Havelock, who said: ''For more than forty years I
have so ruled my life that when death came I might face it
without fear." Let us think for a moment of the view which
He who is the example of a godly life, and therefore of a godly
death, took of departing from this world. One of the seven
last sayings of Jesus from the cross was: ''Father, into Thy
hands I commend my spirit." It is the free, spontaneous,, un-
hesitating surrender of one who did not look upon death as an
irresistible necessity, but as something that comes from a
F'j Cher's love.

This was the feeling which enabled the American General'

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 343

Stonewall Jackson, to die as he did. When told that he had
only about two hours to live, he answered: ''Very good; it is
all right. Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action. Pass the
infantry to the front rapidly. Tell Major Hawks — " Pres-
ently a smile of ineffable sweetness spread itself over his pale
face, and he said quietly and with an expression of relief: ''Let
us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees."
And then, without pain or the least struggle, his spirit passed
away. We should all be able to pass over the dark river of
death bravely if we hoped and trusted as truly as did this
Christian soldier, to rest under the Tree of Life upon the other
side.

IS DEATH PAINFUL?

So live that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the Silent Halls of Death,
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltermg trust, approach thy grave
As one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

PROCESS OF DYING WHILE BEING COVERED WITH EARTH.

W. K. Morehead (says Science Siftings), a geologist, was
recently buried alive while excavating a mound of the mound-
builders m Ohio. He fell with his head resting a little above
his feet and suffered little beyond a sensation of strong com-
pression due to the weight of the earth, which pressed the but-
tons of his light costume into the skin and caused his watch
chain to mark his body.

The pressure of the soil on his straw hat caused him to
teei as if the skin of his brow were cut. A knife in his pocket
seemed to burn into the flesh, and finally his backbone seemed
slowly to break. Then he became insensible to pain, though
still able to think. His thoughts succeeded each other like
flashes of lightning, and related to the past, the future, and his
home. He did not think of his condition, except to wonder
if he would be able to breathe when he was taken out of it.
He tried to move his hand, even his finger, but failed. He
could not lift his chest, and the only part of his body he could

344

THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

move was his lower jaw, which the clods permitted to be done.
He remembered how warm the earth before his face had be-
come when the breath was press :id from his lungs.

He kept his mouth shut to exclude the earth, but after a
time it opened in spite of him, and two pieces of clay entered
and caused him a horrible sensrtion of trying to eject them.
He felt that he was lost and b :came indifferent. The work-
men who were digging him out cleared the earth from his face
and eyes, but when they stopped a little the pressure on the
rest of his body drove the blood to his head and swelled the
veins so that he was afraid they would burst. Moreover, he
could not breathe yet, because the thorax was still compressed
by the soil.

He never lost consciousness, and as the men carried him
away he saw a little wild yellow canary sitting on a spray and
heard it sing. As the bird flew off he fancied he was flying
after it and perching on one twig or another, just as it did.
The sky seemed of a different color than usual; it also seemed
grander, and the country more beautiful, and he was so much
affected by the wondrous beauty of the spectacle as to shed
tears.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 345

It Is Oivly a Step to Hea^erv.

TO DIE IS GAIN IN A VERY BROAD SENSE.

*And he said: Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said:
I am Jesus whom thou persecutest (Acts, ix. , 5).

The incident referred to opens a very wide door, and in-
troduces us to a series of thoughts which are not more start-
ling than they are helpful.

St. Paul was apparently a man of strong prejudices as
well as strong convictions. He had a courage which extended
to rashness. A conservative of fierce temper, he could tolerate
no invasion of the old-time Hebraism which had been sancti-
fied by the sufferings as well as the victories of many gener-
ations.

When this new religion of the Nazarene began to stir the
people, it had a tendency to lessen their allegiance to the syn-
agogue, its doctrines and its forms of worship. Paul, there-
fore, perhaps without inquiring into its merits, hated it with
a deadly hatred. ''Breathing out threatenings and slaughter,"
armed with letters from the high priest giving him authority
over both men and women, he was on the road to Damascus
with a boundless fury in his heart and a determination to crush
the spiritual rebellion by the most heroic measures.

Just before he reached the city a light shone round him
which seemed to be supernatural, and the stillness of the air
was broken by a Voice which came from the lips of some in-
visible personage. A communication was made to him which
he evidently regarded as coming from the other world, for
from that instant the whole plan of his life was changed. His
desire to persecute the followers of the Master was trans-

♦Wrltten by the leading editorial writer in the New York Herald.

346 THE ENCYCLOPyEDIA OF DEATH

formed into a vow to defend them at the hazard of his own
Hfe.

It is safe to say that this incident is as reliable as most
others which have come to us from remote times. There is
no good reason why we may not accept it as veritable history.

Moreover, it is corroborated by similar experiences which
have occAirred from time to time since the days of Paul. There
is hardly a household which cannot relate an occurrence of a
like nature, and we are forced to the conclusion that there
are more beings who are invisible than there are beings vis-
ible, and that the visible and invisible are supplied with means
of communicating with each other.

It is useless for the Christian to declare that such mir-
acles, if they are miracles, were confined to the limits of a
given period. He must accept what happens to-day as well
as what happened centuries ago. God has not changed His
relations to men, and the necessities of human nature are just
as urgent as ever. If angels talked with mortals from the
time of Adam to the days succeeding the crucifixion, it is folly
to suppose that the curtain dropped and we have ever since
been left without the companionship of '^a cloud of wit-
nesses." We must either throw the Bible overboard as a tis-
sue of imaginary events, or believe, as every generation has
believed, that the great falsehood of history is that there is ''a
bourne from whence no traveler returns."

If God is really a presence in the world, then He must
be a continually-revealing presence. There is a kind of ab-
surdit}'- in the statement that He has spoken, but refuses to do
so any more. If He ever spoke, it is certainly true that He
still speaks. He has neither become indifferent, nor has He
retired to some distant corner of the universe whence His
voice cannot be heard except as a dull and uncertain echo.

The upper air is peopled by the departed. Death does
not destroy the whole of us; it simply separates, by mysteri-
ous alchemy, the mortal from the immortal, and it is only a
short journey from this world to the other. While we are say-
ing our Good Night to the dying they are listening to a Good
Morning from those who have joined the majority.

We suffer from a sense of separation, but they enjoy the
pleasures of a reunion. To die is gain in a very broad sense
for it is an exchange of hampering conditions for a life with

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 347

out limitation. Death is merely the transportation of a peas-
ant to a palace, the environment of which gives him opportu-
nities he never dreamed of. We shed bitter tears at a grave,
but there is more or less selfishness in our grief. If v^e had
full faith in the future the muffled sound of sighs would be
followed by a solemn conviction that, while we are somewhat
the worse off by what we call bereavement, the departed loved
one is much the better off.

This is the ideal religion, and because we have not yet at-
tained to it we robe ourselves in mourning, as though some
great disaster had befallen those who go as well as those who
remain. If we had no thought of self we should dress in
white rather than black, for the dead have won their victory
and become immortal.

Still further, it is an inexpressible loss to the roliglous life
that we do not realize the radiant fact that solicitous and help-
ful influences are round about us in our struggles with' cir-
cumstances. Every loved one who has gone is as conscious
of our doubts and fears as when he was at our side. Neither
his affection nor his power to aid has been abated. In a thou-
sand ways unknown to us he gives us strength for the conflict
and peace of mind in our perplexity. By unspoken words he
talks with us, and our souls and his hold intimate communion.
Were that not true, then our lives would be heavily and
darkly overshadowed. But it is true, and we are compelled
by many an unexplained experience to believe it. It is a doc-
trine of Holy Writ; it is verified by the history of every home;
it is a component part of practical religion; it is a statement
of fact which redeems us from despair and gives us good cheei
because heaven and we are not far from each other. *

34^ 2HE ENCYCLOFyEDIA OF DEATH

jfl Geiveral VieW of Death.

SIN, NOT DEATH, WHICH STALKS ABROAD IN EVERY LAND.

VARIOUS SCENES OF LIFE DEATH AS A DREAD PERSONAGE SEEMS

TO HAVE BEEN UNTHOUGHT OF BY THE ANCIENTS THE GREEKS

HAD NO GOD OF DEATH KING OF TERRORS — PLUTO AND

CHRONOS DEATH NOT A PERSONAGE OUIDA.

*Lovers, or bridegroom and bride, or happy husband and
wife — each couple regards death variously, as they feel va-
riously tov^ard each other. Look at the couple on the extreme
right of the spectator: Love in her ej^es sits glancing, and he
responds with ardent gratification. They are so occupied with
each other — so entirely are they all in all just now to each
other that death passes by them unregarded. For

**Who grieve when the bridegroom is with them?

Who weeps when the wine-chalice flows?

When the aureole of life shines around us,

Who then of death's cold shadow knows?

W'hen we stand on life's throne, crown'd and sceptred

In love's own most regal attire,

Can we think of the day when the triumph

Of life and of love will expire?"
Next to this joyous couple sits, alone, a little maidfen to
whom, as yet, love and death are both mysteries. Wonder is
the predominant expression on her childish face; wonder
crossed with a dim pity. But how can death be sad or be joy-
ous to those who know not what love is? For life is not life
till love vivifies it; as life, when love is gone, relapses into
mere existence, unless the eternal impersonal love supply the

*G. T. C. M., In "The Spiritualist," London, England.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 349

place of the mere personal and transitory emotion; and then
life has already become immortality. This little maiden is
seated next to the master and mistress of the feast, a couple
who reveal a lovely phase of human affection. Hand clasped
fondly in hand, passion ripened into love, and love into friend-
ship, they think that death cannot sever the life which has
resisted the more powerful attacks of passion, of weakness, of
faithlessness, and of disappointment.

The third couple represent a less united condition of love.
The man gazes callously and with folded arms at the mummy;
stolid philosophy and critical thought are in his eyes, whilst
she, wholly engrossed in the thought of his love for her, is
terrified at death, the separator, and she clings to her one
beloved, turning from death to love.

Most startling is the old woman who sits beside her aged
husband in the angle of the room. Her withered cheeks and
dingy skin she has tried to adorn with a wondrous head-gear
of lovely light-hued feathers. She is, I fear, a worldly old
thing, and death appears to her horribly real and near, as it
comes to her amid all this youth and feasting.

Next to this poor old lady, whose life-story is well nigh at
its last page, sit a young couple who are but beginning the
oft-told tale. She is young, coy, and timid, frightened at the
approach of love and its ardent powers. Her lover finds in
the reminder of death a new argument for urging her to relent:
*'See," he says, 'Meath will come; let us love while we may."
He seems to whisper George Macdonald's eternity:

''Love me, beloved! for I may lie
Dead in thy sight, 'neath the blue sky.
Love, beloved! for both must txead
On the threshold of Hades, the house of the dead."

Further on, considerably, sits a ''used-up" voluptuary, be-
tween two girls. He looks bored at that thing coming round,
and seems indifferent alike to love and death, himself being
more deadly and dead than the mummy itself.

These are only a few among the numerous figures and
faces in the picture — a picture which requires a prolonged
study for its due appreciation. In the Academy Catalogue
there is a recondite note on this curious Egyptian custom — a
note which leads the reader to speculate about the views of
death held by the ancients, and to consider how different were

350 THE EN CYC L OPALDTA OF DEA TH

their notions to those of the moderns. Death as a dread per-
sonage seems to have been unthought of by the ancients. The
words — ''Gaze here: drink and be merry," are like the words
of the Hebrew preacher — "Rejoice, O young man, in thy
youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth,
and walk in the way of thy heart and the sight of thine eyes."
They meant that youth and bodily existence will not continue
long; therefore they should be enjoyed while possessed. Youth
and vitality are given by our Maker; it is our dut}^, therefore,
not to waste them, neither by a dreary melancholy nor yet by
a reckless career of gross living. The Hebrew sage added the
words — "Know thou that for all these things God shall bring
thee into judgment; therefore remove sorrow from thy heart,
and put away evil from thy flesh." That is, in other words,
waste not thy god-given youth and its capacities of enjoyment
in morbid or religious asceticism; so remove sorrow from thy
heart. And waste not thy youth neither in excesses in which
the beasts would not indulge, but put away evil from thy flesh;
for excesses and fleshy evils will bring their own penalty on
thy body, thy intellect, and thy soul. Every act has its
inevitable result, a result often called the judgment of God.

There is one remarkable thing in this Egyptian ceremony;
it is the only personification of death to be found among the
ancients. The Greeks had no God of death. Pluto and Pro-
serpine presided over Hades, the world of those who had gone
through the process of death and had crossed the river Styx.
They had been ferried over by Charon, a lesser deity, in sub-
servience to Pluto and the other Gods, ^schylus, the sublime,
recognizing neither time nor death, makes no such dramatis
persona as Thanatos. Euripides in the Alkestis introduces a
personage called, in English translations. Death. But in the
Aldine edition of 1567 he appears as Charon; whilst Sertius (in
his notes on Virgil) says that Euripides put him in as Mercur}'.
And as Mercury he appears in an edition of Euripides, printed
in 1471, and in another of 1532. But under whatever name,
Euripides personifies him as slightly as possible and makes
Alkestis and Hercules speak of him as if he were Pluto.
Hercules calls him "The Priest of the Dead," and Alkestis,
talking as she dies, says she —

' ' Beholds a boat and him who ferries o'er the dead,
By Charon I am summoned hence."

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 351

In Sophocles there is a short invocation to death, in Ajax's
iast speech: but the mere personification is unimportant, and
does not raise Thanatos to any rank like the deification
attributed to even Aido, Orcus (oath), or Nemesis. Atropos,
that one of the Destinies who cuts the thread of life, in^effect
performed the duties of Death. And to Iris also is given the
work of cutting that thread which binds the soul to the body.

Nowhere among ancient literature do we find that dread
king of terrors who — with scythe and hour-glass, with crowned
skull and bare jawbones — is the modern idea of death. That
grim image is the production of the creed which professed to
reveal life and immortality. It is a Catholic mediaeval con-
ception, perhaps a monkish rendering and blending of Pluto
and of Chronos. Chronos (the Latin Saturn or Time) was
represented with a scythe and hour-glass by the Greeks. The
mummy of the Egyptian feast was decorated as Osiris, the
God with whom men entered into happy union after death;
and so it was to them a reminder of immortality; the Greeks
supposed that those who had entered the nether world were
at once judged by Rhadamanthus, and abode in the Stygian
fields or in the Isles of the Blest; but the mediaeval Christian
supposed the dead lay rotting in their graves until the last
trump. He deemed that for them was neither pleasure nor
pain any more; for them action and happy repose were alike
over. Death, the most powerful of all beings (scarcely except-
ing Deit}^ itself), cut short the only career of happiness given
to man; for after the grave he would go to either an eternal
fire or to a petrified heaven. And so arose that stalking skele-
ton, suggesting so many false ideas, which has become the
popular image of death. "The founder of Christianity," wrote
Isaac DTsraeli, "everywhere breathes the blessings of social
feelings." The horrors with which Christianity was afterwards
disguised arose in the corruptions of Christianity among those
insane ascetics who, misinterpreting tho^word of life, trampled
on nature. The dominion of mankind fell into the hands of
those imperious priests who ruled by the terrors of the ignorant.
Life was darkened by penances and pilgrimages, alternating
with murder and debauchery; spectres started up amid the
midnight vigils; the grave yawned, and Death — in the Gothic
form of a gaunt anatomy — paraded the universe. After they
had sufficiently terrified men with this charnel-house figure, a

352 THE ENCYCL OP^IDIA OF DBA TH

reaction in public feelings occurred, and death, which had so
long harassed the imagination, suddenly changed into a theme
fertile in coarse humor. The Italian love of the beautiful for-
bade their art to sport with deformity, but the Gothic taste of
German artists delighted to give human passions to the hideous
physiognomy of a noseless skull; it put an eye of mockery into
its hollow sockets and made the shank-bones of Death dance
gaily. And ''The Dance of Death" traveled through Europe.
It even became enacted as a religious ceremony in churchyards.
A popular poem on it was composed by one Macabre, of which
the English Dance of Death (erroneously attributed to Holbein)
is an illustration. Groups from this dance were copied as
house and as furniture decorations, and at Luzern there still
exists a bridge (a covered bridge) on which is painted the Dance
of Death.

It would have been happy for English people if this
ludicrous view of it had been allowed to end the gross and
materialistic conception of man's career. But, unfortunately,
Milton restored to the figure of Death its first awe and majesty.
Milton, profoundly read in Virgil, transferred all Virgil's classic
lore to the Hebrew myths, and changing Prometheus into
Satan, he transformed also Virgil's Pluto, Rhadamanthus, and
Hades, into Death, Hell, and Judgment. Milton has made
the theology and colored the religious imagery of Englishmen
for two hundred years now, and so long as the following lines
remain household words, neither fact nor philosophy will
obliterate the false and popular conception of death: —

''Black it stood as Night,
Fierce as ten Furies; terrible as Hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on."

Yet fact, and philosophy founded on fact, tell us that death is
not a personage; scarce even an event; naturally it is but a
process, a process slow«and sure, aye, surer than physical birth.
The spiritual doctrine, and one incessantly reiterated by every
spiritualistic teaching, is that death is but an exact repetition,
in less material organs, of the process of physical birth; but
that there are a multitude of deaths; and that we have to
undergo — and we do undergo — far more painful deaths while
still in the body, than our physical dissolution will be. Aurora
Leigh knew this, when she spoke of the slow\ death of young

AND L TFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 353

souls, so often ''bound by social figments, feints, and formal-
isms, and then crucified head downward, on the cross sticks of
the world. " Ouida knew it, too, when she made the soul of
Signa to be extinguished and killed by contamination with vice
long before his body departed from its shattered life. And
preachers know it when they repeat the words, '' Fear not him
who can kill the body; but I say unto you, fear him who can
kill both body and soul." Fear sin. Thank God, nowadays
preacher, poet, novelist, philanthropist, doctor, and man of
science, all perceive that sin is a far more hideous and more
powerful thing than death. It is sin, not death, which stalks
among us, as Blake saw the sin-plague of Egypt, a livid, mon-
strous, green-hued, poison-radiating, spear-darting power. It
is sin, not death, we have to fear, aslurking secretly to catch
the young, and as leading us in the wild '^ dance Macabre."

Our popular theology and religious conceptions have not
yet entirely recovered from that low and selfish phase of
former generations. The idea of man's future existence was
formerly one ol selfish happiness, so far as petrified existence
and petrified perfection can be happiness. ''It looked," as
Mr. Frederick Harrison says, "only for the performance of
the consciousness which can enjoy itself; whilst the modern
and better idea of man's future existence is permanence of
those activities which can give happiness to others." With
this opinion the physiologist neither courts nor fears death.
He will not address it as "most beloved, most lovely;" nor
yet as "dread king of terror," for he regards it as a natural
process, as growth toward a new birth. The pain of the
process is fell generally long before we are conscious that the
process has begun in us; the sorrow of it lies in separation
from those we love; but that sorrow is felt more by those who
are left than by those who are departing, for death brings
hopeful consolation to those whom it touches. We have all
heard of dying people entreating their friends to "let them
go,'' and not keep them by their yearning love; but who ever
heard of a dying man entreating to be kept in the body; to be
kept back, in fact, from dying into life? It is true that the
new life into which we die is very different to this life in some
respects. For, with the loss of the external body of matter,
will cease those mere physical functions whose due action gives
physical pleasure now. Therefore "let the young man rejoice

354 ^^^ ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF DEATH

in his youth;" and let Edwin Long's happ}^ lovers quaff the
wine cup while they have palates to taste with, and while love
gives tone and flavor to all around. Let love reveal life, that
we may know and enjoy life; and let the reminder of death
come as the reminder of immortality.

CREMATION OF FALSE TEETH.
A dentist calls attention to an interesting fact suggested
by the possible adoption of cremation. False teeth as now
made are entirely unaffected by the most intense heat, so that
if the body of a person who had used false teeth be incinerated,
the teeth would come out of the retort uninjured and pearly
white, although nothing of the body might remain but a small
residuum of ashes.

BIRTH AND DEATH IN CUBA.

Pittsburg Dispatch: You can be born without the assist-
ance of a doctor in Cuba, but it is necessary to have the aid of
a priest to make your birth legitimate. The law does not
recognize your existence unless your nativity is properly re-
corded in the records of the church. Nor can you be married
without the padre, because civil and Protestant ceremonies are
not accepted as legal in Cuba. Much less can you be buried,
because all the cemeteries belong to the church, and a heretic
has to pay well to lay his bones in one of them. The church
is recognized in Cuba more completely than in Rome, and
exercises jurisdiction over the life there as well as that which
is to come.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 355

Strai\^e Featares oF DeatK.

EXPERIENCES CONNECTED WITH THE PHENOMENA OF DEATH.

EXPERIENCES OF A STARVING MAN ENOCH ELIJAH EMPEDOCLES

THE WONDERFUL BUTTERFLY STRANGE EFFECTS OF THE

MIND UPON THE BODY JUSTICE AND DEATH — A MAGDALEN'S

DEATH.

The following narrative throws some light on this interest-
ing subject. It appears that in a hurricane passing over ^e
Ohio river and down the Miami Valley on the night of the
Fourth of July, 1873, a splendid grove of oaks on the ''old
Anderson farm " of a Mr. Rogers, in the latter locality, was
almost wholly prostrated, and here is an amazing story de-
rived therefrom and gravely communicated to the Miami
County Democ7'at, by one J. F. Clark:

''Upon the morning subsequent to the storm (Sunday)
Mr. Rogers, in company with a hired man, proceeded to in-
quire into the extent of the damage inflicted upon his prem-
ises, and the first objective point was the ruined grove. The
centre tree of the plat was a noble oak, the king over his fel-
lows, and a tree which had stood the ravages of time seem-
ingly unscathed for several centuries. This tree had been
snapped and felled by the storm. Upon examining the fallen
giant for the purpose of ascertaining its worth as rail-timber,
Mr. Rogers made a startling discovery. This was nothing less
than the fact that the tree in falling had disgorged a skeleton.
The bones were disconnected, yellow as gold with age, and
scattered promiscuously over several square feet of pasturage.
The skull was almost intact; all the teeth save two — molars —
were still in their places, and there was a scar on the left pari-
etal bone which looked like the memento of some fierce 4«\v-
alry charge. The humerus of the right arm was shatteMv.'i,

356 2 HE ENCYCL OP AID I A OF DBA Til

and save the three defects'just mentioned, the skeleton, when
put together, was without blemish. The tree in falling, I
should have mentioned, was rent asunder — a task not difficult
of accomplishment when I refer to the fact that an examin-
ation found that at some remote date the very heart of the
oak had been cleft by lightning. From a spot twenty feet
from the ground upwards to the first great fork — a distance of
ten feet — a hollow extended, and from this cavity the skeleton
had been hurled. If we but knew who he was, thought my
informant, Mr. Rogers, and, strange to say, a few minutes
later the twain discovered that the tree had also disgorged a
thrilling history. An old-fashioned leather pocket or mem-
orandom-book lay in a remarkable state of preservation, which
no doubt had been dropped into the lent made by the light-
ning, and had been preserved while its master decayed. A
few brass buttons of old and unique pattern were found near
the memorandum, but it is with the latter that we have to
deal. This old leather purse, entirely moneyless, contained
sundry papers covered with rude pencilings quite difficult to
trace, as they were written on the backs of army passes and
military consignments which dated as far back as 1776. Mr.
Rogers conveyed the bones to his house, and set about to read
the memorandum of the captive of the tree. But owing to his
failing eyesight, he could decipher but little, and this little
a conglomerate mass of disconnections. But still he read
enough to learn that the eyes that once shone in the now orb-
less sockets, often looked upon Washington in the heat of
battle, and amid the snows of Valley Forge; and the skeleton
arm, covered with flesh and muscle, had struck many stalwart
blows for our country. The man's name, as gathered from the
papers, was Roger Vanderberg, a native of Lancaster, Pa.,
and a Captain in the Revolutionary army. He was an aid to
Washington during the retreat across the Jerseys, and served
a time m Arnold's headquarters at West Point. In 1791 he
marched with St. Clair against the Northwestern Indians, and
in the famous outbreak with that General on the Wabash, No-
vember third, of the year just written, he was wounded and
captured. But while being conveyed to the Indian town at
Upper Piqua — a historical place well known to your readers —
he effected his escape, but found himself hard pressed by his
starving foes. He saw the hollow in the oak, and despite the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT^ WORLD. 357

mangled arm, and with the aid of a beech that grew beside
the giant then, he gained the haven, and dropped therein.
Then came a fearful discovery. He had miscalculated the
depth of the hollow, and there was no escape. O, the story
told by the diary of the oak's despairing prisoner! How, rather
than surrender to the torture of the stake, he chose death by
starvation; how he wrote his diary in the uncertain light and
the snow! Here is one entry in the diary:

'^ November 10. — Five days without food! When I sleep
I dream of luscious fruits and flowing streams. The stars
laugh at my misery! It is snowing now. I freeze while I
starve. God pity me!' "

^^'The italicized words were supplied by Mr. Rogers, as
the trembling hand ofttimes refused to indite plainly. Never
was such a record of suffering traced by human hand before.
The entries cover a period of eleven days, and in disjointed
sentences is told the stor}^ of St. Clair's defeat."

The last moments of this unfortunate man must have been
accompanied with untold agonies of mind and body. Dying
through the instrumentality of artificial means cannot be as
pleasant as when the dissolution takes place through the quiet
operations of Nature's forces, after a well-spent life. Then
the separation of the soul from the body is accompanied from
the beginning with exalted feelings and sensations. As soon
as the will ceases to resist, the transition is easily accom-
plished, and the splendor of the supramundane scenes grad-
ually bursts in upon the enraptured vision. While dying by
the slow and tedious process of starvation, it is not strange
that the senses are frequently impressed with scenes through
the instrumentality of dreams, that, if tangible, would quickly
respond to the demands of nature, and relieve the suffering.
The desire then for food and water predominates in the mind
— is the leading exciting cause therein, prompting it to dream
of ''luscious fruits and flowing streams." It is well understood
how the psychologist acts upon the mind of his subject, by
exciting to action certain desires within his body, such as
love, fear, hatred, bravery, cowardice, etc. How much easier
for the body to affect the mind through the action of the
intense wants of the same, resulting in dreaming of that
which will supply the urgent wants; hence Mr. Vanderberg

358 THE ENCYCLOP.-EDIA OE DEATH

had his slumbers annoyed by the presentation of that which,
while confined to his earthly prison-house, he could never at-
tain.

TRANSLATION OF ENOCH, ELIJAH AND EMPEDOCLES.

History informs us that certain distinguished characters
have been translated. The Bible says: '' By faith Enoch was
translated that he might not see death; he was not found be-
cause God translated him; for upon his translation, he knew
that he had pleased God." Elijah was favored in like man-
ner by God. ''And it came to pass as they still went on and
talked, that there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire,
and parted them asunder, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind
into heaven." Ancient history mentions the translation of
Empedocles, who was born 444 years B. C, and who pro-
claimed himself a God, and was so received by many, and he
was transferred to heaven, it is said, amid a flood of great
effulgence, during a sacred feast. I am inclined to doubt these
extraordinary statements, although I do not believe the in-
stantaneous dissipation of the human body an impossibility.
These isolated cases of translation, if true, give no person any
ground for hope that he will be so highly favored, or that a
chariot of fire, or horses of fire, will convey him to a seat in
heaven. The common method of entering the supramundane
spheres, through the instrumentality of death, is still desirable,
and we do not believe that any of the gods of the various re-
ligious sects can improve thereon.

THE WONDERFUL BUTTERFLY.

In connection with death many beautiful incidents have
occurred, the most peculiar of which will be given. The Jer-
sey City y^«;v/t7/ speaks of a physician who resided in that city
at one time, who had won considerable fame from the suc-
cessful cures he had made in medicine and surgery. When-
ever one of his patients died, no matter where he was, what
time of day or night, a small white butterfly came to him, and
flitted about until it attracted his notice, when it departed.
The moment the Doctor saw the little winged messenger of
death, he was at once made aware of the demise of the pa-
tient; and if at night the warning came to him, he invariably
remained in his office in the morning in order to give a cer-
tificate of death. The first time the Doctor ever saw this but-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 359

terfly, was while he was looking at the form of a deceased
child; the butterfly alighted on its breast, and there remained,
slowly raising its wings up and down until the body was closed
in its little coffin. On one occasion, while the Doctor was at-
tending a patient in Park Place, the butterfly entered the win-
dow and commenced flitting about his head. He looked up
at it, and one of the ladies in the room, thinking it annoyed
him, said: ''Oh! let it alone; it will soon burn its wings by
the blaze of the gas." ''No, it won't," replied the Doctor
"It has come on a mission, and will soon disappear. I have
just lost a patient, and in the evening I will be called upon for
a certificate of death." Sure enough, i"he next morning the
father of the child that had died the night before called, and
notified him of the loss of his little one. This is only one of
the many instances where the Doctor has received this strange
visitation, and kept a record of the circumstances, besides that
of calling the attention of those present to the fact of the but-
terfly's warning of death among his patients. Premonitions of
death are of common occurrence, being usually impressed
upon the mind through the instrumentality of dreams or vis-
ions.

STRANGE EFFECTS OF THE MIND UPON THE BODY.

We find in the work entitled "Influence of the Mind
Upon the Body," that "Juventius Thalma, to whom a tri-
umph was decreed for subjugating Corsica, fell down dead at
the foot of the altar at which he was offering up his thanksgiv-
ings. Fonquet, upon receiving the intelligence of Louis XIV.
having restored him to liberty, fell down dead. To these may
be added those of Diagoras,.an athlete of Rhodes, who died
from seeing his three sons returned crowned from the Olym-
pic games; and Dionysius, the second tyrant of that name,
who died on hearing the award of a poetical prize to his own
tragedy."

These incidents we have related show that death from joy
has not been wholly unknown to the world. The transition
to the celestial regions, when caused through the instrumen-
tality of joy, is probably delightful in the extreme. All the
vital forces, physical and mental, of the system, are then in-
tensely stimulated, and so powerful is their influence that the
physical organism cannot endure the pressure, and yields as
easily to death as, under favorable surroundings and condi-

36o THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

tions, it does to sleep; for joy always excites, modifies, or
even sometimes entirely suspends the functions of the body.
We have reason to believe that no unpleasant feelings v^^hat-
ever accompany the transition under these circumstances, and
that it is the easiest and most pleasant of all.

Cold contracts; heat expands. Intense grief, like cold in
some of its manifestations, causes a concentration of the vital
forces, resulting in death, while excessive joy causes an inor-
dinate expansion of the same, with a like fatal result. The
fact that deep grief sometimes causes hair that naturally curls
beautifully, to become straight, is an evidence of the power-
ful influence that it can exert on the vital forces of the organ-
ism. When the emotions are grandly illuminated by trans-
cendent joy, death becomes a poetic dream, more pleasurable
than any picture that the imagination can conceive. The feat-
ures retain the brilliant tinge that only a superabundance of
ecstatic joy can impart, and you think that they who are so
calmly reposing in the arms of death, are only sweetly sleep-
ing. They die as naturally, beautifully, and easily, as the
sweet dew-drop is kissed heavenward from its bed in a flower,
by a genial ray of light from the morning's golden sun; and
as the dew-drop returns to strengthen other flowers, to an-
imate them with rainbow-tinted hues, and impregnate them
with a divine aroma, after it has taken its voyage among the
clouds, so do the souls of the departed come back to earth to
do good to others, and to stimulate them to the performance
of noble deeds!

JUSTICE-ITS DEMANDS AND ITS METHOD OF CAUSING DEATH.

Justice, the avenging hand of Justice, which seeks to stay
the progress of crime, causes death in a variety of ways. Sus-
tained by law, which is deemed sufficient, it devises various
instruments whereby death is caused. There have been, how-
ever, isolated cases where imprisonment for life has been sub-
stituted for the death penalty. In the early history of the
world, cruelty — extreme cruelty — was always practiced in car-
rying out the demands of Justice. The quartering and burn-
ing of criminals was not, at one time, an uncommon practice.
Justice, supposed to be an emanation from heaven, ordered
that criminals be dealt with in such a manner. One peculiar
feature prevailed, however, as late as the sixteenth century —

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 361

the Medical School at Montpelier received its annual tribute
of a criminal to be dissected alive for the benefit of science.
According to Appleton's Encyclopaedia, ''Ravaillac, assassin
of Henry IV., was torn limb from limb by horses, while yet
alive, and during the agony his flesh was pulled away in bits
by red-hot pincers, and boiling oil poured upon the raw
wounds. As late even as the time of Louis XV., Damiens
met with a fate similar to that of Ravaillac. Even in Eng-
land, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, traitors were disem-
boweled during life; and in the time of her father, Henry
YHL, boiling to death was an occasional punishment. It was
only within the last century that in Great Britain, Justice, in
dealing with treason, so far tempered punishment with mercy
as to spare the traitor the agonies of a cruel, lingering death.
In all civilized countries, where capital punishment has been
retained for certain crimes, ingenuity has been exercised to
render death as speedy and as little painful as possible. Loss
of life without any added horror is supposed to be sufficiently
effective for the ends of justice. Hanging is the mode of pun-
ishment in the United States and in England. The guillotine
is the instrument used in France, and the garrotte in Spain."
*'A criminal who escaped," says a writer in the Quarterly Re-
view, ''by the breaking of the cord, said that after a second
of suffering, a fire appeared, and across it the most beautiful
avenues of trees. Henry IV., of France, sent his physi-
cian to question him, and when mention was made of a par-
don, the man answered coldly that it was not worth the ask-
ing." The garrotte of the Spanish simply consists of a band
of iron placed around the neck, which, on being tightened by
the executioner, causes strangulation, and sensations, prob-
ably, similar to hanging. The guillotine, an offshoot of the
brain of Dr. Guillotine, is invariably associated with torture
and extreme cruelty.

A MAGDALEN'S DEATH.

There are certain conditions of the human mind when all
things on earth seem to wear a gloomy aspect, and every sound
thrills the soul like a funeral knell — then it is that death often
becomes desirable, fear vanishes, and a strange, reckless daring
takes possession of the human soul. This condition of mind is
beautifully illustrated, though sadly, in the following narrative:

''One day," said the narrator, "as we were starting from

562 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

4

New York, a trim little girl stepped aboard and took a state-
room, saying she was going through to Boston. She wasn't
dressed lewd, but neatly and richly, wearing a Turkish hat,
velvet sack trimmed with lace, a dress with a lot of scallops
and trimmings around it, and about the most bewildering foot
I ever saw on a human.

''She was standing on deck about seven o'clock, after
having horrified the ladies and amused the gentlemen by her
rollicking manner, and became quiet for a few minutes, while
she looked far out at sea. She turned round to the Captain,
and putting up her small white hands and taking him by the
whiskers on each side of his face, she looked up to him, and
said, very solemnly: 'Did you ever want to die. Captain?'
'Well,' said he, 'I don't think I ever did.' 'And if you did,'
said she, 'what would you do?' 'Well, in that case,' said the
Captain, loosing her hands and turning away, ' I think, as I
have plenty of opportunity, I should jump into the Sound and
drown myself.'

"The words were hardly out of his mouth before she
turned round like a flash, and putting one hand on the railing,
leaped overboard! She was gone before a person could stir to
catch her, and a terrible scream arose from the passengers who
saw it.

"I was standing aft when I heard the shouts, and looked
out and saw her come to the surface. She had taken off her
hat, and her splendid brown hair, which she wore loose down
her back, floated in a mass on the water. I fancied she looked
straight at me with her girlish face as she came up, and there
was nothing wild or struggling about her, but she seemed
to smile in the same jaunty way that she did when she was
plaguing me half an hour before. In another moment she was
swept rapidly astern and disappeared. We put about and
lowered the boats, but we never found her.

"It is strange how the women who had been so shocked
at her conduct before, now pitied and even wept for the little
girl when they found what a load there must have been in the
foolish child's heart while she was laughing the loudest.

"She had left a small reticule in the cabin, and when we
opened it we found some verses, written in a little cramped
iiand, on a folded sheet of note paper. They ran about this
way, and were headed: 'A Magdalen's Death.'

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 363

"I can no longer endure this polluting, this festering breath.
Gladly I fly to the refuge that's left me —
Merciful death;
Not sadly, tearfully,
But gladly, cheerfully,
Go to my death.

** Priests may refuse to grant sanctified burial there unto me.
Father, I thank Thee! a blessing is always held
Over the sea.
Aye, in its wildest foam.
Aye, in its thickest gloom,
Blessed is the sea!

** Welcome, oh! Sea, with thy breaking and dashings
That never shall cease;
Down in thy angriest, stormiest waters,
Oh, hide me in peace!
Say to the weary face,
' Come to thy resting-place,
Slumber in peace.' "
This young woman was, undoubtedly, partially insane. A
dissolute life had dethroned her reason, and nowhere in this
broad world of ours could she discern a single oasis where she
could secure peace for her troubled mind. Death to her was
a welcome messenger, or she would not have sought it. How-
ever great one's troubles may be, we would never recommend
suicide as a panacea therefor.

364 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OE DEATH

jflivalysis oF Life ai\d DealK.

DEATH FROM THE STANDPOINT OF THE CELLS, ONE OR MORE.

THE UNICELLULAR AND THE MULTICELLULAR THE AMCEBA DEATH

NOT AN ATTRIBUTE OF ALL BEINGS THE PROTOZOA THE

METAZOA THE HYDRA CALLS OF A CARP.

*The universality of death among the visible living cre-
ation is SO striking a fact that it is not surprising that death
has been through all time regarded as one of the properties
which characterize living matter. Living bodies have often
been distinguished from non-living bodies by the mode in
which their existence is terminated, and hence a termination
by death has been considered one of the characteristics of life.

Any one bold enough to attack the general proposition that
'death is the end of life,' is likely to be rather severely criti-
cised, for if he succeeds in proving this statement to be false,
what will all those poets and moralists do who never seem to
tire of reiterating the mortality of all living beings? In spite
of such considerations, a distinguished German philosopher.
Professor Weismann, has been recently led, in a series of most
interesting speculations on the nature of heredity, the duration
of life, etc., to throw some doubt upon the generally assumed
statement that death is dependent upon causes lying in the
nature of life itself, or that all living beings bear the seeds of
death. In these speculations Professor Weismann points out
the fact, which naturalists hitherto seem to have overlooked,
that death is by no means an attribute of all living organisms.
But before considering the accuracy of this statement, it will
be advantageous to clear the ground by some preliminary con-
siderations as to the nature of the organic world.

*ArthurE Shipley, in "Tlie NiDctccatli Century "

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 365

All living organisms, whether plants or animals, consist
of one or more cells, and in accordance with this fact they may
be clashed in two great divisions: the unicellular and the mul-
ticellular. The unicellular animals are termed protozoa, the
unicellular plants protophyta; the multicellular animals and
plants metazoa and metaphyta respectively. It is unnecessary
to point out that the unicellular organisms present the phe-
nomena of life in their simplest and most elementary forms,
but in order to clearly understand Professor Weismann's views,
it will be worth while to review the life-history of some such
typical unicellular form as the amoeba.

The amoeba is an animal of such a simple nature that it
may be looked upon as the biologist's unit. It forms the
starting-point from which both morphologists and physiologists
set out to study the structure and functions of the more com-
plicated organisms. It consists of a small particle of more or
less granular protoplasm, part of which may be differentiated
into a nucleus. It lives in water, and creeps slowly over the
surface of any support on which it happens to be resting, by
pushing out a protuberance in front of it, and then slowly
flowing up to the protuberance; hence its external configuration
is constantly changing. At times, however, when the sur-
rounding conditions become unfavorable — when, for instance,
the water in which it lives dries up — the amoeba assumes a
spherical form, and surrounds itself with a wall or cyst. This
process is termed the encystment. After a longer or shorter
time the amoeba resumes its former mobile condition. It lives
by taking in any particles of food with which it comes in con-
tact, and these, by the wonderful power protoplasm possesses
of converting foreign matter into itself, add to the size of the
animal. When it has reached a certain size, it divides into
two, the resulting halves being in all particulars exactly alike,
and quite indistinguishable. Each half will then pass through
a life-history similar to that of the mother individual.

Such a life-history may be taken as a type for the unicell-
ular organisms. Many of them pass through more compli-
cated changes, being modified by their surrounding conditions,
by parasitic habits, etc., but in essentials they do not differ
from the amoeba. It is this great division of unicellular organ-
isms to which Professor Weismann refers when he says: 'Death
is by no means an attribute of all organisms.'

3 66 THE ENCYCL 0 1\EDIA OF DEA TH

It is perfectly obvious, when it has once been pointed out,
that in such a life-history as that of the amoeba, there is no
permanent cessation of the vital functions comparable with the
death of the multicellular organisms. But so universal is the
presence of death amongst the multicellular beings, and so
widely spread is the conviction that death is the necessary
consequence of life, that the attempt has always been made to
force the protozoa into accordance with other living beings;
some observers maintaining that death as found among the
metazoa is represented in the process of reproduction, whilst
others consider the encystment of the protozoa is comparable
to the death of the metazoa.

Before considering these objections which have been urged
against the view of the immortality of the protozoa, it will be
advisable to clearly define what is meant by death. Our con-
ceptions of death have been acquired almost exclusively from
the higher animals, and may possibly be too one-sided. The
death of the cells and tissues which follows upon the death of
the organism they compose must be included in order to dif-
ferentiate clearly between genuine death and trance, or other
conditions of suspended animation, when the vital functions
are reduced to a minimum. Death may then be defined as a
'definite standstill of life;' it is an irretrievable loss of life.

Some of those philosopherswho hold that death is a ne-
cessity inherent in life itself, have seen in the process of en-
cystment among the protozoa a phenomenon analogous with
the death of higher organisms. They consider that during this
process the structure of the individual undergoes a dissolution
into organic, non-living matter, and that this matter is able af-
ter a certain period of quiescence to give rise to a new indi-
vidual of the same species.

The idea of death is inseparably associated in our minds
with something that dies, but in an encysted protozoon what
is it that dies? where is the corpse? If the animal within the
cyst really dies, then in the birth of the succeeding individual
an animal is raised from the dead, a phenomeno . infinitely
more startling than that it should never cease to live, and only
comparable to the palingenesis of the fabulous phoenix. Fur-
ther, it is a well-known fact that after death an organism un-
dergoes a rapid oxidation, but in the case of an enc3^sted pro-
tozoon no such decay occurs. It is even possible to perform

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 367

experiments demonstrating the error of this view. An en^
cysted protozoon placed in fresh water produces a living indi-
vidual; one which has been killed, in the same circumstances
produces only decomposition of the dead organic matter. Here
the same external conditions produce different results because
they act upon bodies in two different conditions, and it is in-
consistent to designate by the same name conditions so en-
tirely different.

One of the most important reasons for regarding encyst-
ment as death is the cessation of vital activity and the
simplification of structure which accompanies the process.
But these are by no means universal accompaniments of thfe
encysted condition; one of the larger infusoria, when encysted,
retains not only its complex organism, but its mobility, con-
tinuing to rotate vigorously whilst within the cyst. It is surely
absurd to speak of this as death.

A more reasonable explanation, and one which is accepted
by the majority of biologists who have especially devoted
themselves to the study of unicellular organisms, is that en-
cystment is an adaptation for purposes of protection against
drought, cold, any or other external influences which might
prove fatal to the life of the mobile form. It is a device to
enable the organism to tide over unfavorable periods.

Another class of critics who have attacked Professor Weis-
mann's views maintain that though the protozoa do not die,
still the individual ceases to exist at the moment of the fission
which will produce two daughter individuals. It is impossible
here to enter into a discussion as to the significance of the
term individual, and the relation which a unicellular indi-
vidual bears to a m.ulticellular. But it is worth while pointing
out that *' the identity of a living person depends not upon
the identity of matter, but upon the continuity of the inde-
pendent living body." If this were not the case, the man of
to-day would be a different individual from the boy of twenty
years ago, for it is a well-known fact that the actual matter of
the body is undergoing a continual change. On the other
hand, loss of substance involves no change of individuality;
a man who has lost an arm, or a leg, or both, is the same in-
dividual as he was before the loss of his limbs.

The protozoa, then, are endowed with the potentiality of
eternal life. This does not imply that they, like the gods of

368 THE ENCYCLOPJEDIA OF DEATH

the ancientsj cannot die, but only that, if a kind Providence
shields them from all fatal accidents, they do not die a natural
death, but live on and on, growing continually in size, and
when the limit of the size is reached, dividing into two or more
protozoa. Thus, every protozoa of the present day is in-
finitely older than the human race, almost as old as life itself.

The metazoa or multicellular plants and animals, how-
ever, do die a natural death. The greatest care and foresight
which can be exercised in protecting them from such acci-
dental deaths as arise from diseases, etc., will only succeed in
staving off the inevitable dissolution for a very short time.
But multicellular organisms are without doubt descended from
unicellular ones, which are endowed with the capabilit}- of
everlasting life; hence the multicellular beings must have de-
veloped the power of dying when they ceased to consist of a
single cell. This power is closely connected with the phys-
iological division of labor, which is one of the most advan-
tageous results of a multicellular manner of living. Certain
cells in these more complex organisms are grouped into or-
gans which have certain definite functions to carry on in the
economy of the plant or animal, to the more or less complete
exclusion of other functions.

In the unicellular animal, the whole body is engaged in
feeding, moving, respiring, reproducing, etc. ; but in the mul-
ticellular organism certain groups of cells are set apart to per-
form these functions for the whole animal. This division of
labor becomes more marked as the organism becomes more
specialized; the number of functions a cell performs becomes
more and more limited as the body becomes more complex.

The cells of the multicellular beings reproduce, like the
protozoa, by division, but only a certain group of them pos-
sess that power of unlimited division which characterizes the
protozoa, and these are the reproductive cells. The remain-
ing cells of the plant or animal possess only a limited power
of division, and it is to this limitation that we owe the phe-
nomenon of death. The cells which compose the complex
body of the metazoon can, from this point of view, be divided
into two categories — the reproductive cells, and the somatic
cells. The former have inherited from the protozoa the capa-
bility of unlimited reproduction; the latter have but a lim-
ited power of reproducing themselves, and, since they com-

^

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 369

pose the organism, with the attainment of that limit the
individual dies. The reproductive cells are the essential fac-
tors for the species, the somatic for the individual.

The separation into these two kinds of cells is very grad-
ual; among the lower animals the somatic cells still retain
considerable power of reproducing the organism; very small
pieces of a hydra or a sea anemone will grow up into a new
hydra or sea anemone; but as the complexity of the body is
increased, the power of reproducing large portions of the or-
ganism is lost, though it is a well-known fact that a lizard can
replace its lost tail, or a frog its lost toes.

Death was thus rendered possible among the metazoa
by the division into reproductive and somatic cells, and as
we see, it has made its appearance. Among the unicellular
organisms it was not possible, since the individual and the re-
productive cell were one and the same, and the death of the
former would involve the loss of the latter, and with that the
extinction of the species. But so far only the possibility of
death has been shown; the advantage of such an arrangement
is perhaps not quite so obvious.

At present no physiological reasons can be given to ex-
plain why the somatic cells divide a certain number of times
and then cease to do so — why the cells of a carp divide such a
number of times, and at such a rate, as to enable it to live
over a century, whilst those of a mayfly multiply only to such
an extent as to allow it to exist for only a few hours. But.
when viewed from the point of view of the species and not of
the individual, the advantages of death become more appar-
ent. It cannot be too strongly insisted that the individual
exists for the good of the species of which it is a member, and
not for any selfish and private ends. And any arrangement
which promotes the interests of the species and which is com-
patible with the structure of the individual is likely sooner 01
later to make its appearance in the life-history of the latter.
The advantage which death possesses for the species is ren-
dered apparent by considering the consequences which woulo
ensue, were one of the more complex animals endowed with
the potentiality of immortal life. Such an animal would lose
all value for its species. Even supposing it was able to avoio
all fatal accidents so that it was not killed, it would be impos-
sible to avoid minor accidents, each of which would perma-

3 7o THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA TH

nently affect its welfare. Time would injure it as it injured
Tithonus —

**But thy strong hours indignant work'd their wills,
And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me,
And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd."

An immortal animal would but cumber the earth, occupying
the place of younger and more vigorous forms which are bet-
tei adapted to fill the place in nature set apart for the species
in question. Organisms become injured by their surround-
ings, and it is therefore advantageous for them to be replaced
by younger and more perfect forms, and this substitution is
rendered possible by death.

These considerations do not apply to unicellular organ-
isms; the simplicity of their structure renders any such ar-
rangement as death superfluous. When slightly injured, they
can replace the part affected in such a way that their structure
becomes as complete as before. Each half of an infusorian
which has been bisected can reproduce its complemental half.
If, however, the injury is too severe, they are killed, the al-
ternative is always perfect integrity or total destruction. Thus
to insure a succession of perfect and healthy organisms any
such arrangement as death is unnecessary among unicellular
beings; but it is necessary among the more complex multi-
cellular organisms, and it has made its appearance. Having
once appeared, it has become hereditary, and, although, as
the above considerations are intended to show, death is but a
secondary adaptation, it can no more be avoided by the more
complex organism than if it were a phenomenon inherent in
the nature of life itself.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 371

Dyiiv^ at iKe Top.

THE GRADUAL DECAY OF THE FUNCTIONS OF THE BRAIN.

JUDGE CLIFFORD HIS DEATH COMMENCED AT THE TOP SECOND

CHILDHOOD THE DRUNKARD AND SPIRIT-LIFE THE OLD MAN

AND HIS REVERSED CONDITION- — DYING AT THE TOP PECULIAR
TO AMERICA.

''In the pride of intellectual greatness and physical
strength, no man can say he is safe," says the Chicago Express.
"Ahead of him there may be the awful doom of senility, the
death of the mind while the body lives on, a dismantled hulk,
a ship without a helmsman and without a headlight. Judge
Clifford, of the Supreme Court at Washington, furnished one
of the most melancholy instances of that awful travesty on
manhood, second childhood. His fine mind slipped away
from' him so gradually, that his associates never noticed it
until the opinions he sent the court became mere incoherent
babblings. Like a splendid tree which had stood against the
storms of centuries, proud in its power, secure in its strength,
he 'died at the top,' and for a time still lived on — if it could
be called living to exist without a mind — a spectacle for pity-
ing souls to weep over; a sight to remind the proudest that in
their highest exaltation they may be humbled."

It is, indeed, a very sad sight to witness a man of towering
genius, brilliant intellect and sound judgment, failing, grad-
ually, losing his magnificent intellectual powers, and dying at
the top. When such is the case, however, the mind fails to
observe its own defects, and chides others for realizing its exact
status or condition. When the faculties begin to decay, the
judgment becoming imbecile and ideas confused, the brain
filled, as it were, with a mist, it is well, perhaps, that the

372 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

affected one does not sense his own inherent weakness. If he
fully comprehended his exact condition, realizing that he was
gradually dying at the top, life would become a burden and a
curse to him. The fact that he does not observe the advancing
symptoms of death, enables him to overlook his defects, and
imagine himself still crowned with greatness. While dying at
the top, one side of the brain may be paralyzed, and still the
other side perform its functions quite well, enabling the mind
to take cognizance'of the external world.

He who is in his second childhood is gradually dying at
the top. Life in his brain is incessantly fading away, and in
proportion that it does this, the childishness becomes more
complete, and the playthings of the babe often amuse the
veteran of eighty.

It is very rarely that the brain retains its full force and
vigor at extreme old age. It may have been dying, probably,
for years, but the change had been so exceedingly gradual, that
at the age of one hundred the possessor vainly thinks he has
the vigor of youth.

By dying at the top, men are brought face to face with the
dreaded change, yet do not realize the fact. Old age creeps
upon them; they become enfeebled in body, imbecile in mind,
and exceedingly petulant, but the change has been so slow
that they cannot fully comprehend it has taken place. To such
persons death is never a welcome visitant — never expected,
and constantly held at arm's length.

To die at the top in a good cause, in efforts to ameliorate
the condition of humanity; to make the world better and
happier — falling, as it were, in the battle of life, engaged in
philanthropic purposes, verily great shall be the reward of
such a person. But the debauchee, the licentious and de-
praved— those whose brains have been addled and softened
through the instrumentality of intoxicating liquors, — in fact,
dying at the top in consequence of leading a pernicious life —
will all be compelled in the Spirit-world to walk through the
Valley of Humiliation, and learn lessons of wisdom therefrom.

There are thousands in all the walks of life dying at the
top. Such a death does not consist in the hair turning gray,
but the brain has lost its functional activity; the blood no
longer distends to their natural capacity its blood vessels, and
decay has commenced.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 373

An old man, whom we often met on the streets, was a
few years ago weahhy. Vigorous then, spirits buoyant and
intellect active, he was successful in all branches of business;
but he commenced dying at the top, and then reverses came
one after another, and he could not beat back the tide of im-
pending ruin, and he was overwhelmed by it — lost all! Once
he was an excellent musician, tidy in appearance, sprightly in
action, and possessed fine conversational powers. Now he is
filthy, dressed in the cast-off garments of others, and is a first-
class professional beggar. We have frequently stopped him
on the streets and talked with him. Poor man, d3qng at the
top, he has but a dim recollection of his former greatness.

Men fail in business, the shock shatters their constitution,
and they cannot rise again. Perhaps, poor souls, they are
dying at the top, and must henceforth act a subordinate part
in all the affairs of life. Bad luck follows them — they know
not why. It is because they are dying at the top, and cannot
perceive clearly the methods that lead one grandly on to suc-
cess. Younger minds, those not impaired by wrecked brains,
go bravely forth to conquer.

To die at the top first is inverting the order of nature.
The brain should be carefully guarded, but in order to do that
all other parts of the body should be attended to with scrupu-
lous care. Intemperance should be avoided; all bad habits
should be banished at once, and every effo-t made to give the
brain the advantage. Every drop of liquor that enters into the
sacred precincts of the brain, prepares it for an early death.
The brain should be the last to yield up its powers — the last
to relinquish its hold on earth — the last to become unbalanced.
Men dying at the top are not responsible morally; they are not
competent to conduct their own business; they have not the
requisite ability to make a will; in fact, they should be under
the guardianship of some one.

It has been well said that *^old age is the foe of human
life, far more to be dreaded than death, because it may hold
the nameless terrors of imbecility. Death is the destiny of all,
and it is met with submission, with courage and with faith
that its unknown portals may open to something that will be a
recompense for the unknown failures and disappointments of
life. Men face danger unflinchingly, and endure pain and sor-
row with fortitude, but the strongest tremble in terror at the

374 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA Til

thought of the seventh stage — that awful period of impaired
faculties, of an idiocy which mocks and burlesques the colos-
sal mentality it has supplanted. Nature, even in her grimmest
moods, is not wholly unmerciful. She mitigates this phase of
her wrath by making the subjects of it unconscious of their
pitiable condition. They never know of their own decay; and
though this makes them more pathetic objects of pity to oth-
ers, it is to them the divine grace of heaven. They always
work on, believing that they fill the same place they always
did. Judge Clifford still sent his opinions to the court which
he served efficiently for years. The activity of a lifetime is
not to bo destroyed even by second childhood. The lunatic
asylums are full of preachers who continually write sermons,
lawyers who are always pleading at the bar, doctors who diag-
nose imaginary cases, poets who fancy the world reads their
poems witK rapture, and authors whose novels never see the
light. Intellectually, people never experience the delights of
leisure. The machinery of the brain once started never stops
while the heart beats. After reason has been dethroned and
sense has gone glimmering, it only works in a weak and child-
ish way, to no purpose, but it works, all the same, like the
mill in the fairy story, which was set in motion by the h«nd of
a child, who was soon afterward imprisoned, and which, must
grind on until the spell was removed or the child died. And
so the machinery of the gristless mill kept in motion, the mill-
stone turned, and year in and year out the useless work went
on, until the child, who had become an old man, died in his
prison. Then the grinding stopped, and the jyeopXe who came
to look at the ruins of the mill found only a wteck of matter
which had been held together for so long by u force they could
not understand.

^< Dying at the top is peculiar to America. It is not com-
mon in other lands. Softening of the braiis belongs by right
of monopoly to this nationality. It is cultivated here, though
not consciously. The rapid gait at which intellects are made
to travel and the way they are overburdened are responsible
for much of it. The wastefulness which characterizes us as a
people extends even to muscle and mind. We are as lavish
with our mental strength as with our food and money; and as
reckless with our ph3^sical force as with our brains, and we
pay the penalty. There is a malady, far too frequent, which

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 375

has become known over the world as *The American Disease.*
It is nervous prostration, and comes from the same wicked
waste of the intellectual energies which causes people to die at
the top. Young men endowed with health and ability start in
the race for fortune and honor, and after a few years' restless
activity, die of nervous exhaustion, and their friends lament
that they died prematurely. School-girls and boys, ambitious
to crowd the time and accomplish a great deal in a little while,
use up their nerve strength before they know it, and are * pre-
maturely' put into graves. The American disease gathers its
victims from the middle-aged also. It is sure to get the men
and women of bright minds, those who are known as ' prom-
ising,'and for whom great successes have been prophesied.
The idle and the commonplace never fall within its grasp.
Those whose brains outwork their bodies fill its ranks. Na-
ture is merciful in these cases also. She spares the mortals
who have outraged her laws by overtaxing their own strength
the misery of living on with clear heads and crippled bodies.
Not often does she mete out severe justice by this means.
Mercifully she lets them die. The duty of rest is something
America has yet to learn, and until she does learn it she will
have an army of imbeciles who were once intellectual giants,
and an appalling number of graves which contain what might
under less pressure have lived to bless society."

Try to avoid dying at the top, but if you ever should,
bear in mind now, please, that the ordinances of nature are
overflowing with mercy and kindness, and that in such a sad
condition there is a pleasing illusion that drives away in a
measure its dark side.

376 ^ THE ENCYCLOPyEDIA^OF DEATH

TKe Daivce oF DeatK.

THE SUPERSTITIONS OF PAST ACES EXHIBITED TO VIEW.

DEATH SYMBOLIZED DEATH THE ELDEST BROTHER OF SLEEP

HERODOTUS THE EGYPTIANS THE LARV.E AND LEMURES

PETRONIUS AND SENECA THE ANGEL OF DEATH.

*The manner in which the poets and artists of antiquity
have symbolized death has excited considerable discussion;
and the various opinions of Lessing, Herder, Klotz, and other
conversationalists, have only tended to demonstrate that the
ancients adopted many different modes to accomplish this pur-
pose. Some witnesses have maintained that they exclusively
represented death as a mere skeleton; while others have con-
tended that this figure, so frequently to be found upon gems
and sepulchral monuments, was never intended to personify
the extinction of human life, but only as a simple and abstract
representation. They insist that the ancients adopted a more
elegant and allegorical method for this purpose; that they rep-
resented human mortality by various symbols of destruction,
as birds devouring lizards or serpents, or picking fruits and
flowers; by goats browsing on vines; cocks fighting, or even by
a Medusa's or Gorgon's head. The Romans seem to have
adopted Homer's definition of Death as the eldest brother of
Sleep; and, accordingly, on several of their monumental and
other sculptures, we find two-winged genii as the representa-
tions of the above personages, and sometimes a genius bearing
a sepulchral vase on his shoulder, and with a torch reversed in
one of his hands. It is very well known that the ancients
often symbolized the human soul by the figure of a butterfly,
an idea that is extremely obvious and appropriate, as well as

*Holbein's Dance of Death. *

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 377

elegant. In a very interesting sepulchral monument, engraved
in page seven of Spon's '' Miscelladea Eruditae Antiquitatis,"
a prostrate form is seen, and over it a butterfly that has just
escaped from the mouth of the deceased, or as Homer expresses
it, ''from the teeth's enclosure." The above excellent antiquary
has added the following very curious sepulchral inscription
that was found in Spain: ''Haeredebys meis mando etiam
einere vtmeo volitet ebrivs papilio ossa ipsa tegant mea," etc.
Rejecting this heathen symbol altogether, the painters and en-
gravers of the middle ages have substituted a small human
figure escaping from the mouths of dying persons — as it were,
breathing out their souls.

We have, however, the authority of Herodotus, that in
the banquets of the Egyptians, a person was introduced who
carried around the table at which the guests were seated, the
figure of a dead body placed in a coffin, exclaiming at the
same time: "Behold this image of what yourself will be; eat
and drink, therefore, andbehapp}^" Montfaucon has referred
to an ancient manuscript to prove this sentiment was a Lace-
daemonian proverb, also occurring in the beautiful poem of
Coppa, ascribed to Virgil, in which he is supposed to invite
Maecenas to a rural banquet.

The phrase of pulling the ear is admonitory, that organ
being regarded by the ancients as the seat of memory. It was
customary, also, and for the same reason, to take an oath by
laying hold of the ear. It is impossible on this occasion to
forget the passage in Isaiah 22:13, afterwards used by St. Paul,
in the beautiful parable in Luke 12. Plutarch also, in his
banquet of the wise men, has remarked that the Egyptians
exhibited a skeleton at their feasts to remind the parties of the
brevity of human life. The same custom, as adopted by the
Romans, is exemplified by Petronius's description of the feast
of Tremalchio, where a jointed puppet, as a skeleton, is brought
in by a boy, and this practice is also noted by Sillus Italicus.

Some have imagined that these skeletons were intended to
represent the larvae and lemures, the good and evil shadows
of the dead, that occasionally made their appearance on earth.
The larvae, or lares, were of a beneficent nature, friendly to
man; in other words, the good demon of Socrates; the lemures,
spirits of mischief and wickedness. The larvae in Petronius
was designed to admonish only, not to terrify; and this is

378 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA Til

proved from Seneca. There is, however, some confusion, even
among the ancients themselves, as to the respective qualities
of the larvae and lemures.

It is among Christian writers and artists that the per-
sonification of death as a skeleton is intended to convey terrific
ideas, conformably to the system that death is a punishment
for original sin.

The circumstances that lead to death [in a Christian point
of view] , and not our actual dissolution, are alone of a terrific
nature; for death is, in fact, the end and cure of all the pre-
vious sufferings and horrors with which it is so frequently ac-
companied. In the dark ages of monkish bigotry and super-
stition, the deluded people, seduced into a belief that the fear
of death was acceptable to the great and beneficent author of
their existence, appear to have derived one of their principal
gratifications in contemplating this necessary termination of
humanity, yet amidst ideas and impressions of the most hof-
rible and disgusting nature; hence the frequent allusions to it
in all possible ways, among their preachers, and their per-
sonification of it in their books of religious offices, as well as
in the paintings and sculptures of their ecclesiastical and other
edifices.

There are, indeed, some exceptions to this remark, for we
may still trace the imbecility of former ages on many of our
sepulchral monuments; which are occasionally tricked out with
the silly appendages of death, heads, bones, and other useless
remains of mortality, equally repulsive to the imagination and
to the elegance of art.

If it be necessary on any occasion to personify death, this
was surely better accomplished by means of some graceful and
impressive figure of the Angel of Death, for whom we have the
authority of scripture; and such might become an established
representative. The skulls and bones of modern, and the en-
tire skeletons of former times, especially during the middle
ages, had, probably, derived their origin from the vast quanti-
ties of sanctified human relics that were continually before the
eyes, or otherwise in the recollection of the early Christians;
but the favorite and principal emblem of mortality among our
ancestors appears to have been the moral and allegorical
pageant familiarly known by the appellation of the Dance of
Death, which it has, in part, derived from the grotesque and

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 379

often ludicrous attitudes of the figures that composed it, and
especially from the active and sarcastical mockery of the ruth-
less tyrant upon its victims, which may be, in a great measure,
attributed to the whims and notions of the artists who were
employed to represent the subject.

It is very well known to have been the practice, in very
early times, to profane the temples of the Deity with ludicrous
dancing and ludicrous processions, either within or near them,
in imitation, probably, of similar proceedings in Pagan times.
Sirabo mentions a custom of this nature among the Celtiberians,
and it obtained also among several of the northern nations
before their conversion to Christianity.

These riotous and irreverent tripodists and caperers ap-
pear to have possessed themselves of the churchyards to ex-
hibit their dancing fooleries, till this profanation of consecrated
ground was punished, as monkish histories inform us, with
divine vengeance. The well-known Nuremberg Chronicle has
recorded that in the time of the Emperor Henry II., while z.
priest was saying mass on Christmas eve, in the church of St.
Magnus, in the diocese of Magdeburg, a company of eighteen
men and ten women amused themselves with dancing and sing-
ing in the churchyard, to the hindrance of the priest in his
duty. Notwithstanding his admonition, they refused to de-
sist, and even derided the words he addressed to them. The
priest being greatly provoked at their conduct, pra3'ed to God
that they might remain dancing and singing for a whole year
without intermission; and so it happened, neither dew nor
rain falling upon them. Hunger and fatigue w^ere set at de-
fiance, nor were their shoes or garments in the least worn
away. At the end of the year they were released from their
situation by Herbert, the Archbishop of the diocese in which
the event took place, and obtained forgiveness before the altar
of the church; but not before a daughter of the priest and two
others had perished; the rest, after sleeping for the space of
three whole nights, died soon afterwards. Ubert, one of the
party, left this story behind him, which is elsewhere recorded,
with some variations and additional matter. The dance is
called St. Vitus's, and the girl is made the daughter of a
church-warden, who, having taken her by the arm, it came off,
but she continued dancing. By the continual motion of the
dancers they buried themselves in the earth to their waists

38o THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DBA TH

Many princes and others went to behold this strange spec-
tacle, till the bishops of Cologne and Hildesheim, and some
other devout priests, by their prayers, obtained the deliver-
ance of the culprits. Four of the party, however, died imme-
diatel}'; some slept three days and thiee nights, some three
years, and others had trembling in their limbs during the
whole of their lives. The Nuremberg Chronicle, crowded as
it is with wood-cut embellishments by the hand of Wohlge-
muth, the master of Albert Durer, has not omitted to exhibit
the representations of the above unhappy persons, equally cor-
rect, no doubt, as the story itself, though the same warranty
cannot be offered for a similar representation in Gottfried's
Chronicle, and that copious repertory of monstrosities, Bois-
tuau and Belleforest's Histoires Prodigieuses. The Nurem-
berg Chronicle has yet another relation on this subject, of
some persons who continued dancing and singing on a bridge
while the eucharist was passing over it. The bridge gave way
in the middle, and from one end of it two hundred persons
were precipitated into the river Moselle, the other end remain-
ing so as to permit the priests and the host to pass uninjured.

A sort of Death's Dance was not unknown to the an-
cients. It was the revelry of the departed souls in Elysium,
as may be collected from the end of the fourth ode of Ana-
creon.

In the year 1801 several fragments of sculptured sarcoph-
agi were accidentally discovered near Cuma, on one of which
were represented three dancing skeletons, indicating, as it is
ingeniously supposed, that the passage from death to another
state of existence has nothing in it that is sorrowful, or capable
of exciting fear.

At a meeting of the Archaeological Society at Rome, in
December, 1731, M. Kestner exhibited a Roman lamp, on
which were three dancing skeletons, and such are said to oc-
cur in one of the paintings at Pompeii.

In the Grand Duke of Tuscany's Museum at Florence
there is an ancient gem, that, from its singularity and con-
nection with the present subject, is well deserving of notice.
It represents an old man, probably a shepherd, clothed in a
hairy garment. He sits upon a stone, his right foot resting on
a globe, and is piping on a double-flute, whilst a skeleton
dances grotesquely before him.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 381

Notwithstanding the interdiction in several councils against
the practice of dancing in churches and churchyards, it was
found impossible to abolish it altogether, and it therefore be-
came necessary that something of a similar, but more deco-
rous, nature, should be substituted, which, whilst it afforded
recreation and amusement, might at the same time convey
with it a moral and religious sensation. It is therefore ex-
tremely probable that in furtherance of this intention, the
clergy continued to introduce the Dance or Pageant of Death,
or, as it was sometimes called, the Dance of Macabre.

M. Barenta, in his history, The Dukes of Burgundy, ad-
verting to the entertainments that took place at Paris, when
Phillip le Bon visited that city in 1824, observes that these
dances were not solely made for the nobility, the common
people being likewise amused from the month of August to
the following season of Lent with the Dance of Death, in the
churchyard of the Innocents, the English being particularly
gratified with this exhibition, which included all ranks and
conditions of men. Death being, morally, the principal charac-
ter. When these exercises terminated on the part of the peo-
ple, cannot easily be traced.

382 THE ENCYCLOPyEDIA OF DEATH

The CKii\ese ai\d DeatK.

THEY VIEW DEATH AS A VERY LIGHT AND TRIVIAL OCCURRENCE.

EXECUTION GROUND AT CANTON BURIAL PLACES FOR THE DEAD

HUNGRY SPIRITS RENEWED MOURNING ANCESTRAL TEM-
PLES FORMS OF ELEGY..

A writer in Temple Bar says: The Chinese are almost
indifferent to the phenomenon of dissolution, and frequently
compass their own end when life becomes wearisome. A wife
sometimes elects to follow her husband on the star-lit road;
and parents will destroy their offspring in times of famine and
great distress rather than allow them to suffer. Still more re-
markable is the custom of selling their lives in order that they
may purchase the superior advantage of obsequies which are
considered to insure the body in safety for the future resur-
rection. A wealthy man condemned to death will arrange with
his jailer to buy him a substitute for a certain sum of monc\',
to be spent upon the poor wretch's interment and preservation
of his body. Should he have parents, so much is usually paid
to them in compensation for their son's life. Chinamen inva-
riably support their parents; filial respect and devotion is the
great Chinese virture and religious precept, in which they
rarely fail. Regarding death as inevitable, he makes the best
of a bad bargain, and cunningly and comically gets paid for
dying. The wholesale destruction of life in this country is
greatly the result of indifference. Hence the massacre of Eu-
ropeans, so terrible to us, seems to them a matter of little mo-
ment, and they cannot comprehend why we should make such
a fuss about it. They regard our indignant protestation very
much as we might treat our irate neighbor whose dog we had
shot. ''Well, well, be pacified; if it was such a favorite, I am

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 383

;orry; but it is only a dog, and there are plenty more. How
nuch do you want to be paid for it?" ''You English think
so much of a life," argue the Chinese; ''have you not plenty
of people at home?" Death in China is awarded as the pun-
ishment for the most trivial offenses, and frequently for none
at all, except being in somebody's way. A story was told as
a fact that, during the visit of one of our royal princes, a theft
was committed of a watch and chain belonging to the royal
guest. The unfortunate attendant was caught with the prop-
erty upon him, and, without further ceremony, his head was
chopped off. The mandarin in attendance immediately an-
nounced the tidings to the Prince as a delicate attention,
showing how devoted he was in his service. To his astonish-
ment the Prince expressed his regret that the thief's head had
been taken off. ''Your highness," cried the obsequious man-
darin, bowing to the ground, "it shall immediately be put on
again! " so little did he understand that the regret was for the
life taken and not the severed head. In times of insurrection
or famine the mowing down of human life like corn-stalks at
harvest time is appalling to European ideas. I must confess
to a nervous shuddering when I stood upon the execution
ground at Canton — a narrow lane or potter's field — where so
many hundreds had been butchered per diem during weeks
together, the executioner requiring the aid of two smiths to
sharpen his swords, for many of the wretched victims were
not allowed to be destroyed at one fell swoop, but sentenced
to be "hacked to pieces" by twenty or fifty blows. I was in-
formed by a European who had traveled much and seen most
of the frightful sides of life, that witnessing Chinese execu-
tions for offences was far more than his iron nerves could
stand; and in some of the details which he was narrating I was
obliged to beg him to desist. And yet he said there was noth-
ing solemn about it, and the spectators looked on amused. It
was the horrible and grotesque combined.

CHINESE "FUNERAL BAKED MEATS "-CUSTOMS IN CALIFORNIA.

*There is much that is sentimental; indeed, there is true
poetry in the manner of burial which some of our American
Indians give their deceased friends, in the place and occupa-
tions which their fancy paints in the realms where the departed

*Ovei!ana Monthly, Vol. 3.

384 THE ENCYCL OPyEDIA OF DBA Til

spirits live again, and in the longings of their own souls still
to commune with the dead. In this way they cultivate the
habit of day-dreamers, encouraging their imagination to sur-
round them with their lost loved ones, or in the solitudes of
the forests, where there are no sounds but the moaning winds,
they fancy to themselves their own spirits taking wing to soar
away amongst the clouds and beyond the azure sky. When
the young brave follows to her long resting-place the remains
of her who but recently was his bride, and while a congrega-
tion of Indians, young and old, stand around as erect and as
mute as the trees in those dark woods, the widowed husband
himself fills up the grave, and builds over it a little hut, ap-
parently unwilling that any other hand should share with his
in these last offices for the departed.

There is something affecting in the sight of a decrepit,
gray-haired Indian going daily to kindle a fire beside the
newly-made grave of the wife who, having served him for
scores of years, has now gone over to the happy hunting-
grounds before him. Here, for many days after the decease,
he spreads her morning and evening meal, and here he waits
for her, and seems to be conversing with her. There was sen-
timent also in that nature which suggested the hut itself as a
fitting tomb for the wife — which suggested that the house
made desolate and dark by the going out of that life which
had been the light of this solitary cabin in the little clearing
in the wilds, should be closed forever, and be never more pro-
faned by subjecting it to the uses of ordinary life; and there-
fore her grave is dug beneath the floor, the door and windows
battened up, a high fence built around this mausoleum, while
another cabin is constructed for the bereaved family.

In like manner there is much that is pleasing in the care
bestowed by the Chinese upon the burial-places of their dead,
and in the various devices for preserving the fragrance of their
memory. The deceased are spoken of as *' having departed,"
'' passed from this world," as ''not here," or as "having left
this dusty earth,*' and as ''gone to heaven." So delicately do
they touch upon the subject of death. Various devices have
been invented to perpetuate the memory of departed ones;
such as by portraits hung up in the house; b}^ tablets on which
are inscribed the names and titles of the deceased; the tomb
itself and the inscription upon it; the room or niche in the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT-WORLD. 385

d\vc4ling entirely devoted to the spirits of ancestors and de-
parted members of the family; the remembrance of these de-
parted spirits at all times of family rejoicings; the provision
made for them at the season of the New Year's festival the
same as though they were present and personally participat-
ing in the festivities; but especially by the annual festival in
the spring of the year called the '^pure and resplendent festi-
val; " when the gates of the tombs and of hades are supposed
to be unbarred and left open for the space of thirty days, to
give liberty to all the spirits to revisit the earth, to mingle
once more in former scenes and to be regaled by the feasts
which the living may make for them, and to carry back with
them to the reign of shades supplies which it is supposed
they will need till the gates shall be opened again. At this
season all who can command the means visit their ancestral
burial-places in families, spend much time in repairing them,
and sometimes in planting flowers and trimming the trees and
shrubbery; and people who only see these marks of respect
for the dead, and know not how much idolatry is mixed with
it, see nothing which is reprehensible, but much that is com-
mendable. When, however, we become acquainted with some
of their superstitions respecting the dead, and when we know
that they not only presume that the souls of those who have
left the world need to be fed and clothed and amused the same
as while in the body, but that they also fear their wrath or
seek their aid, and therefore worship them with religious rites
and address petitions to them, our admiration changes to pity.
Some of these superstitions the residents of California have
had opportunities of observing, but the exact meaning of many
of these funeral ceremonies may n6t be generally understood.

In the treatment of those nigh unto death there is some-
times that which seems inexplicable, for in one case those
about making their exchange of worlds are waited upon with
great tenderness, and the best room in the house assigned
them as the place in which the last act of life's drama shall be
performed; while in another case the dying one seems to be
almost abandoned by former associates, and some desolate
corner, a place in the cellar, or an out-house, is given him as
the place where his dying bed shall be made.

It is, indeed, sad to see what we sometimes have to wit-
ness— poor, friendless mortal that has fought life's many bat-

3^6 THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF DEATH

ties, and fought them to the end, to find himself at last with-
out a comfortable place to lay his worn-out, aching body; no
friends to minister to him during the days of increasing weak-
ness and in the old hour of dissolution. And why is there
such treatment of some of the sick who are supposed to be
near to death? The reason is, because those within whose
liouse or upon whose premises a person may die will be under
the necessity of making provision for his burial ( if there are
no relatives or friends to do it), for if they refuse to do this
they may expect to be troubled by the spirit of the deceased.
There are also bad omens connected with death, which none
are willing to have about their houses if it can be avoided.

The body after death is laid upon the floor. The precise
reason for this very few can tell; but when an aged Chinaman
accounted for the practice by quoting from some of their
books the phrase, ''Born of the earth and changed back again
to earth," we fancied that we saw a trace of tradition follow-
ing down through all the generations since the guilty pair in
Paradise heard their sentence: "Dust thou art, and unto dust
shalt thou return." While lying on the ground or on the floor
it is that the soul or souls are supposed to be taking their de-
parture from their original tenement. The Chinese speak of
the " three souls and seven spirits" of a person. The first,
or three Wan, are the spiritual' soul, and are supposed to be
the energy of the Yang or the male principle of the Dual
powers; while the seven Peh, or the animal soul, are sup-
posed to partake of the Yin or the female principle of the
Dual powers; these are sometimes defined as the "powers or
faculties of the senses, nervous perceptions, and animal spir-
its, as distinguished from the reason."

No Chinaman can give a very clear account as to the dis-
position of all these souls and spirits after death; but in some
parts of the country there is this belief, viz. : that of the three
souls, one abides with the body and the coffin, and hovers
about the tomb; the second takes up its abode in the ancestral
tablet, and is the spirit which is worshiped in the hall of an-
cestors; and the third goes direct to appear before the king
who is represented as holding his court in the infernal regions.
There this soul is judged, and the sentence is passed accord-
ing to the character and deeds of the person while living, or

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 387

according to the intercesssions and offerings made for it by
survivors.

Rites for the dead vary somewhat in different parts of the
country. In some places while the body is on the ground and
the souls are departing, a Tauist priest is employed to chant
portions of their ritual, accompanied with the beating of
gongs and drums and the explosion of powder-crackers. The
noise of drums, gongs, and crackers is for the purpose of
frightening away evil spirits. The firing of' guns and crackers,
however, is not common amongst the Cantonese at their fu-
nerals, we are told.

After death articles of food are placed near the body;
abundant or meagre according to the ability of the friends.
These are supposed to be for the supply of the departed spirit.
Some of the provisions are presented to the mouth of the de-
ceased by the oldest son, or if there is no son present, then by
some other relative or friend, who kneels beside the body
while feeding the spirit.

Large sums are often expended in dressing the body for
its journey to the world of spirits. The best suit is put on,
or new garments are provided throughout, and of costly ma-
terials where there is sufficient means to meet the expense;
and where there are not means, cheaper materials are used,
and even garments of paper have been employed, which may
be put together in such a way as to resemble clothing very
closely.

Much solicitude is expended on the subject of the ''lon-
gevity boards," or coffin, the desire being to procure that
which is most durable. In China the aged often provide cof-
fins for themselves beforehand, or sons make presents of this
article to their parents, thus furnishing a proof of filial regard,
and putting at rest any solicitude of the parent, lest when dead,
there might not be funds sufficient to procure "longevity
boards," and furnish them a becoming burial.

When the body is washed, dressed, and prepared for the
coffin, and covered with a white cloth, tables of provisions are
set for the regaling of this particular spirit, and also to ap-
pease such other spirits as may be hovering around. Among
these provisions there must be five kinds of animal food un-
cooked, and then five kinds which are cooked; also a variety
of cakes and dishes of vegetables, with fruits, wine and tea

388 THE ENCYCL O P.ED J A OE DEA TH

The spectator may notice whole fowls and fish fantastically
ornamented; also a pig's head, or an entire hog; with pyra-
mids of cakes and fruits, and vases of flowers. All these are
borne to the grave at the time of the interment, where they
are again arranged in order, and suffered to remain awhile as
an offering to the dead, and are then brought home to furnish
a repast to the family and friends.

Before the body is placed in the coffin, and while the of-
ferings remain upon the tables, mourning women are gathered
around, who cause the air to resound with their wailings. The
wife, concubines, and daughters-in-law, or any friend, may join
in these wailings; but often there are only hired mourners.

These lamentations are exceedingly lugubrious, and are a
mixture of sobbing, of eulogies of the dead, and of regrets for
the bereavement, and deprecating the sad lot of those who
have been robbed of a friend, or of a support and provider.
The speeches are generally improvised; but sometimes are
according to formulas which have long been wailed over myri-
ads of corpses.

Any relation or friend who is so disposed may contribute
his quota to these audible demonstrations of grief; and one will
say: ''O, thou departed one, I am thy relative; this day hast
thou suddenly deceased. Never can our affection perish; it is
impossible to restrain weeping; from this time never more may
we behold thee. In the parting our heart is torn; but we hope
that after death thy soul has joy and peace, having ascended to
the heavenly palace, there continually to confer prosperity on
thy children and grandchildren. While in life, all thy deal-
ings with men were benevolent and righteous; with an upright
heart dwelling amongst men, performing thy business with
wisdom. By right, heaven ought to have prolonged thy age
to a hundred years. Wherefore, then, by this one sickness art
thou already dead? We are thy relatives, we are thy friends;
and how shall not our bowels be sundered by the force of our
distress and lamentations!"

When one mourner ceases another commences and chants
his or her dirge, and says: "Alas, alas! Why was it not I
that had died rather than be doomed to remain in the land of
the living, an inheritor of trouble and grief, while thou art
removed? Thou, so talented and wise; thou oughtest to have
been spared to become an officer of the empire, even as a pillar

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 389

uf the royal palace." And perhaps another adds: '^O, thou
uughtest to have been spared to thy active town, the hope of
the inhabitants, and to whom they look. Thou wast one who
wert able to teach thy sons all righteousness, and all upright,
measures. But now thou art gone. Alas, alas!"

We have been told that it is not an uncommon occurrence
for old family troubles to be referred to in some indirect way,
as when a secondary wife (with no occasion for the use of
counterfeit sorrow) will wail out: "Ah, me! Who now will
take my part w^hen oppressed by the mistress?" and as when
the daughter-in-law sobs out her apprehensions of increased
tyranny from the mother-in-law, by saying: '^Alas! what will
become of me since my only friend is departed?"

At Chinese funerals in San Francisco these hired mourning
women are sometimes put into carriages to follow the body to
the grave. They may be known by the white garments and
white hoods which they wear — white being the funeral color.

In many cases a band of Chinese musicians is employed
to join in the procession, and escort the deceased to his last
resting-place. Whatever may be the design in furnishing this
music, we outside barbarians are apt to regard it as better
adapted to frighten away evil spirits than to furnish entertain-
ment to a disembodied soul.

Funerals of aged men, or dignitaries, which are designed
to be very impressive, often have one or more young men fol-
lowing the hearse on foot. These represent the sons of the
deceased, and are dressed scantily in some coarse fabric of
dirty white; they are barefooted, leaning upon a cane, and go
bowing dow^n with their face towards the earth, being sup-
ported by a friend on either side. All this is emblematical not
only or their crushing sorrow, but also of the irreparable loss
sustained b}^ the family; intimating that now, as the head and
support of the house is removed, the survivors will be left
without a provider, and must therefore pursue the remainder
of life's journey in poverty and sorrow, which to them is very
unpleasant.

Those strips of brown paper, pierced with holes, to rep-
resent strings of copper coin, and which are scattered in such
profusion as a Chinese cortege proceeds to the place of inter-
ment, are denominated '* money for buying the road."

The theory is, that everywhere there may be hungry or

3 go 2^HE ENC YCL OP^DIA OF BE A TH

ill-disposed spirits who have it in their power to stop on the
way the spirit of the deceased, or by other means to interfere
and prevent his peaceful settlement at the tomb provided for
him; therefore this paper, representing money, is scattered
everywhere along the road to buy from the vagrant spirits the
right of way.

At .the place of sepulture those provisions previously men-
tiened are again arranged before the grave; and libations of
wine and tea are poured out; and large supplies of money,
clothing, and other things, supposed to be needed by the de-
ceased in the world to which he has gone, are sent on after
him. The money is paper, cut and folded so as to represent
gold and silver bars, or copper cash; and this is burned in
large amounts. Paper is made into boxes to represent chests
of clothing. There may be paper servants; also a sedan chair
with its bearers; and all these are burned and thus sent over
into the world of spirits. While the corpse remained in the
house, before the funeral, these images and paper representa-
tions of furniture were arranged around the body; the servants
being represented as in the act of waiting upon their master.

We have mentioned but a few of the most prominent and
common customs of the Chinese in the burying of their dead,
as they are witnessed in San Francisco, Cal. Were we to give
a full account of all their superstitions and practices, in re-
lation to their dead, as they are learned by living amongst this
people in their own land, a good-sized volume would be needed
to contain the record of them. After the death there are at
certain intervals days prescribed for renewed mourning; and
each day has its presicribed ceremonies.

We have noticed that the fourteenth day after tha|decease
of a friend is often observed as a day of renewed mourning;
then each recurring thirtieth day, for the space of a year; and
then afterwards each anniversary is remembered by the family
as aday of mourning and of making offerings to the dead. It
is, however, necessary to remark that the mourning rites are
varied according to the age and relative position of the de-
ceased. Parents are most lamented, and the offerings to their
names are the most abundant, and the anniversaries of their
death longest remembered; wliile the young members of r
family are buried with comparatively little ceremony; an('

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 391

young girls and infants receive very little attention, either in
the burial or afterwards.

Children wear mourning for parents for the space of three
years; and this badge of mourning is whitish or slate-colored
garments, with a white collar, and a white cord braided into
the cue. During the latter part of this season of mourning the
white collar and white cord are exchanged for those which are
colored blue.

During the first forty-nine days of mourning ther^ may be
seen suspended on the wall of the room formerly occupied by
the deceased some form of elegy, such as the following:
''While thou wert living we rejoiced; but now, being dead, it
is impossible for us not to wail. We are cut from the hearing
of thy voice, and thy form no more we meet again. How
many times we cry with mournful voice and lacerated hearts,
and pearly tears dropping to the earth." Another is like this:
''After thy departure we remember what thou wast while living.
It shames us that we are not able more fully to record thy
virtues. Approaching thy funeral car, we only have grief and
tears to offer."

It is not uncommon to mingle with these expressions of
praise for the dead and grief for their own bereavement, some
petitions to the deceased, that as he has opportunity he will
personally aid or employ his intercession in behalf of his sur-
viving relatives or friends. Prayers are addressed to ancestors,
imploring them to appear for the curing of diseases, to avert
calamities, and in whatever way they may be able, to bestow
prosperity and happiness upon their posterity.

A full discussion of this subject, viz: the care bestowed
upon the dead and the provisions made for the souls of the
departed, would require us to give an account of tbe Buddhist
doctrine, of purgatory, and of the transmigration of souls; of
the Tauists' notions respecting spirits — their agency and in-
terference in human affairs, and the methods of dealing with
them. It would require, also, that we describe the whole man-
ner of, and the reasons for, ancestral worship, which is older
than the religions of Buddha and Tau. No such task, how-
ever, do we propose to undertake at present.

The religion of which we have spoken as more ancient
than either that of Buddha or Tau, included the w^orship of
heaven and earth, the gods of the land and grain, and the hills

392 THE ENCYCL OPAiDIA OF DEA TH

and rivers, and the spirits of ancestors. The worship of the
sages and of the Emperor has been added to the Hst of objects
worshiped. While, however, there are these separate sects,
still it is very seldom indeed we may meet with a Chinaman
who has not his head full of the superstitions of all the three.
All Chinamen worship ancestors; all live in the dread of the
spirits; scarce any are sure that there may not be purgatorial
torments, or that they may not be doomed to myriads of births
in the unending series of transmigrations. Without enlarging
upon either of these topics, this much it seemed necessary to
say in order to furnish a clue to reasons for the various rites
performed for the dead, and we will in what follows speak
merely of two or three additional ceremonies of the Chinese in
behalf of the deceased, and respecting which questions are 50
often asked.

On the second month of the Chinese year, and twenty-
fourth day, corresponding to April 4th of our calendar, which
day this year occurred on the Sabbath, every man, woman and
child in the Chinese quarter seemed to be excited about some.-
thingo Great numbers of hacks and baggage-wagons were
standing at their doors, and all day long there were streams of
vehicles going and returning on the Lone Mountain road; and
every wagon, beside its load of human beings, carried a baked
hog, with trays of provisions of various kinds, and baskets of
paper money, candles, and incense.

What was the cause of that extraordinary excitement?
That was Tsing Ming, the pure and resplendent festival. It
was the day on which the doors of the tombs and the gates of
Hades were thrown open, and all the spirits were set at liberty,
and granted an entire month's holiday; therefore all their sur-
viving relatives, friends and neighbors hastened to meet them
on their coming forth, with congratulations, with feasting, and
presents, and gayety.

One hundred and twenty hogs had previously been selected
at the butcher's for the occasion; these were baked whole in
their large ovens, having been previously prepared by boning
and spicing. The chickens, ducks and fish made ready for the
day were in much greater numbers, with an unlimited amount
of pastry, fruit and wine.

A visit to the Chinese burying-ground on the following
day would give one some idea of what had been done by the

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRfT- WORLD. 393

worshipers at the tombs on Sunday. Before the vault in which
some of their dead are deposited, and all around amongst the
graves, were piles of ashes, where had been burned the paper
money; half-burned candles and stumps of incense-sticks stand-
ing everywhere, showed what an amount of money must have
been expended on these articles; heaps of boiled rice lay here
and there; for it seems that a more abundant meal was pro-
vided than the spirits were able to consume. Each company
of worshipers had spread out their provisions before the graves
of their own dead, had poured out libations of wine upon the
ground, had repaired the tombs, and had prostrated them-
selves, and bowed in the various attitudes of worship before
the graves, and had said some form of prayer. Before leaving
the place they had scattered broadcast many handfuls of rice,
and sprinkled wine upon the ground around them, which might
be appropriated by any forlorn spirits who had no friends or
kindred to meet and feast them.

The Chinese spirits at Lone Mountain appear to be as
clannish as are their surviving relatives in the city; for the dead
of the different companies lie in separate enclosures.

Those poor women, the courtesans, while their bodies are
buried amongst the people of whose district they were natives,
yet there is a separate tablet and a rude altar erected to their
memory; which tablet and altar are enclosed with a wall; and
here also were the evidences that expensive sacrifices had been
offered to feast the spirits of these unfortunates.

This worship at the tombs is designed to be not only for
the benefit of those who have recently deceased, but for the
many ancestors, reaching back to the very beginning, even to
the original parents of the family.

The sacrifices and prayers are offered and the worship
rendered to the entire line of ancestors in the one ceremony.
Written prayers are sometimes laid upon the tomb, and left
there till the spirits may have sufficient time to consider them,
or until the winds tear them to fragments. We add here a

specimen of such prayers: ''I, (say, I, Wong Ah

Ching), in behalf of this family (or this company of individuals),
with sincerity of purpose, present these hogs and sheep and
fowls, and the five cooked sacrifices, together with *f ruit, can-
dles, incense, and money, with the prescribed ceremonies; and
we presume to announce that and and (men-

394 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

tioning the names of the several worshipers) are now before
thy tomb, and are saying thus: 'Ages following in their order,
a flowing stream of years, it has come so quickly to the second
month of this present spring; following down far from the
origin (from the head of the ancestral line), yet not so far as
to obliterate our memory of our ancestors. With exceeding
circumspection we take now the offerings and presents, our
annual sacrifices, praying and expecting that illustrious bless-
ings will be conferred upon us, your posterity. Our ancestors
have souls; let them now descend and accept these offerings.' "

The worship being ended, the tombs having been repaired,
the barbecued hog and other provisions are gathered up, and
the party returns home to spend the remainder of the day in
feasting upon that portion of the meats which the spirits have
been unable to devour; and not unlikely some portions of the
''golden pig" may find their way back to the butcher's shop
again, to be "sold in the shambles."

The belief that the disembodied spirit needs such atten-
tions from survivors, leads the Chinaman to make provision,
should he die away from home, that his remains may be con-
veyed back to his native village, where kindred to remote gen-
erations may visit the resting-place of his ashes, and minister
to the wants of the spirit, which it is hoped may be called
home by the ceremonies appointed for this purpose, and which
are employed in the case of those who die abroad.

In their native country also is the ancestral temple, in which
are deposited the ancestral tablets of the famity, or the clan,
and which is thrown open for feasting, or worship, or theatrical
performances, at certain seasons which are memorable in that
particular family. Such entertainments are supposed to be
gratifying to the spirits, and will propitiate their favor.

The want of ancestral temples in California is, to a certain
extent, supplied by a provision which is made by the several
companies. In each of the Ui Kuus, or company houses, a
room is devoted to the dead. Instead of separate tablets for
each individual that has deceased, the name of the person
whose death has been reported is inscribed on one common
tablet, and before the constantly increasing mortuary record
an altar is erected, and above the altar a lamp is suspended,
the light of which must never go out. Here relatives and
fellow- villagers come to drop a tean and to present the offer-

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 395

Ings to the souls of those whose fathers and mothers, wives
and children have long been waiting their return, but who wait
in vain.

Besides the attentions paid to their own dead, theie re-
main, as is supposed, myriads of souls who have no surviving
friends to care for them. ' ' Orphan souls, " '■ ' wandering souls. "
Not only does the feeling of benevolence prompt them to devise
measures to meet the necessities of such friendless spirits, but
self-interest also; because these souls, as is believed, have it
in their power to torment and harm whomsoever they may
harbor spite against; and if allowed to remain houseless, or
hungry and naked, they may follow with persecution those
who might have relieved them but did not. For this reason
the fourteenth day of the seventh month of every year is set
apart as the festival for vagrant, orphan, and pauper spirits,
when the streets of every Chinese city, village and borough
are decorated with miniature garments made of paper; when
feasts are spread by the roadside; when bands of music are
employed to regale the ears of the spirits with notes they once
delighted in, and which they are believed still to love; and
when priests are employed to chant prayers for the release of
any friendless souls still shut up in purgatory. Such occasions
do not pass without the consumption of large amounts of fire-
crackers, paper money, incense, and candles, accompanied
with ceremonies and noises already too familiar to the ears of
all who have resided long in the neighborhood of these people
so mad upon their idols.

Partly because of the Chinaman's love for his native land,
and the desire that his last resting-place shall be where the
ashes of his kindred lie, but principally in order that his bones
may receive from his relatives and descendants the attentions
which are above described, it is that* so much solicitude is
exhibited that the remains of those who die abroad may be
returned for final interment in the ancient tombs. Conse-
quently a large number of the Chinese in California have se-
cured this object by the prepayment of a special sum to their
[// Kiiu, or to some independent association, which guarantees
to find the body wherever it may be buried, and at the proper
time to send it to his friends. The reception of the bod}', or
the ashes, and its reinterment when it arrives in China, involve
a considerable expense. Also there must be religious cere-

396 THE ENCYCL OP^DIA OF DEA TH

monies to lure home the spirit, as well as the care in bringing
home the body, so that, as we see, it must cost a large amount
for a Chinaman to die and get finally laid down where '^the
weary may be at rest."

Perhaps there is no thought more prominent in a China-
man's mind than this which concerns his future condition. In
China, as before remarked, old people in some instances buy
coffins for themselves long before they need them; and filial
sons present coffins to their parents against the day of their
departure. Likewise many prayers are said, alms given, and
good works performed, in order to procure a favorable recep-
tion in the world of spirits; but above all there is a desire for
male children, and descendants who may perpetuate the family
line, and so secure the ancestral offerings from generation to
generation, and thus on forever.

From the evidence here presented, few, we think, will
doubt that the spirits of the Chinese dead, if they still retain
the animal appetites and human sensibilities unrefined, have
any ground of complaint that their surviving friends or
descendants have not done all that was in their power to
secure for them an eternity of bliss according to their estimate
as to what constitutes the essence of bliss; nevertheless, much
as we ourselves might relish a savory dish of pig and chicken,
none of us, we think, would be willing to exchange the antici-
pations of a paradise in which hunger, thirst, and carnal desires
may never more torment us, for a heaven of tinsel money,
tallow candles, paper garments, boiled rice, and samshu, with
Chinese theatricals and Buddhistic mummeries intermingled.
Neither is there one of us who does not admire the earnestness
with which they endeavor to make provision for a future state,
while at the same time it makes us very sad to see how utterly
mistaken they are. There is room for them in that place where
*'the many mansions be," and there is a power which is able
to fit them for companionship with prophets and apostles.

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD, 397

^ Sciei\tiFic VieW oF DealK.

IT ILLUSTRATES THE FACT THAT IT IS PAINLESS.

PROFESSOR TYNDALL DEATH AND LIGHTNING HELMHOLTZ'S EX-
PERIMENTS NERVOUS TRANSMISSION THE WHALE A LUMI-
NOUS IMPRESSION A COLOR TOP AND LIGHTNING PROFESSOR

DOVE THE REV. DR. BARTOL.

*In one of his lectures Professor Tyndall spoke of the
probabilities in favor of the entire absence of pain accompany-
ing death by lightning. It is popularly supposed that an im-
pression made upon the nerves — a blow or puncture — is felt
at the precise instant it is inflicted; but such is not the fact.
The seat of sensation is the brain, and intelligence of the in-
jury must be transmitted to this organ through a certain set of
nerves, acting as telegraph wires, before we become conscious
of pain. This transmission or telegraphing from the seat of
injury to the brain requires time, longer or shorter, according
to the distance of the injured part from the brain, and accord-
ing to the susceptibility of the particular nervous system op-
erated upon.

Helmholtz, by experiments, determined the velocity of
this nervous transmission in the frog to be a little over eighty-
five feet per second; in the whale, about one hundred feet per
second; and in man, at an average of two hundred feet per
second. If, for instance, a whale fifty feet long were wounded
in the tail, it would not be conscious of the injury till half a
second after the injury had been inflicted. But this is not the
only ingredient of delay. It is believed that to every act of
consciousness belongs a determinate molecular arrangement
of the brain, so that, besides the interval of transmission, a

♦Medical National Review.

398 THE ENC 1 XL OPyEDIA OF DEA TH

still further time is necessary for the brain to put itself in or-
der for its molecules to take up the motions or positions nec-
essary to the completion of consciousness. Helmholtz con-
siders that one-tenth of a second is required for this purpose.
Thus, in the case of the whale, there is, first, half a second
consumed in the transmission of the intelligence through the
sensor nerves to the brain, about one-tenth of a second con-
sumed by the brain in completing the arrangement necessary
to consciousness, and, if the velocity of transmission from the
brain to the motor nerves be the same as that through the
sensor, about half a second more is consumed in sending the
message to the tail to defend itself. Therefore, one second
and one-tenth would elapse before an impression made upon
its caudal nerves could be responded to by a whale fifty feet
long.

If we regard as correct the calculations representing the
average velocity of transmission in the human nerves, and if
we estimate the distance from the origin of the filaments in
the brain to their termination in the foot as five feet, the time
required, in case one steps on your favorite corn, for the news
to be telegraphed to the brain, for the brain to prepare a mes-
sage and to telegraph the same to the muscles of the leg to
draw the foot away, would be about one-twentieth of a second.
Now, it is quite conceivable that an injury might be inflicted
which would render the nerves unfit to be conductors of sensa-
tion, and if this occurred, no matter how severe the injury
might be, there would be no consciousness of it. Or it might
happen that the power of the brain to complete the molecular
arrangement necessary to consciousness would be wholly sus-
pended before there would be time for the transmission of the
intelligence of the injury. In such a case, also, although the
injury might be of a nature to cause death, this would occur
without feeling of any kind. Death in this case would be
simply the sudden negation of life, without any intervention of
consciousness whatever.

Doubtless there arc many kinds of death of this character.
The passage of a rifle-bullet through the brain is a case in
point. The time required for the bullet in full velocity to pass
clean through a man's head may be roughly estimated at a
thousandth part of a second. Here, therefor^, would be no
room for sensation, and death would be painless. But there is

AND LIFE IN THE SPIRIT- WORLD. 399

another action which far transcends in rapidity that of the rifle
ball. A flash of lightning cleaves a cloud, appearing and dis-
appearing in less than a hundred-thousandth part of a second,
and the velocity of electricity is such as would carry it in a
single second of time over a distance almost equal to that
which separates the earth and moon.

A luminous impression once made upon the retina endures
for about one-sixth of a second, and this is why we see a rib-
bon of light when a glowing coal is caused to pass rapidly
through the air. A body illuminated by an instantaneous flash
continues to be seen for the sixth of a second after the flash
has become extinct; and if the body thus illuminated be in
motion, it appears at rest at the place where the flash falls
upon it.

The color-top is familiar to most of us. By this instru-
ment a disk with differently-colored sectors is caused to rotate
rapidly; the colors blend together, and, if they are chosen in
the proper proportions, the disk will appear white when the
motion is sufficiently rapid. Such a top rotating in a dark
room and illuminated by an electric spark appears motion-
less, each distinct color being clearly seen. Professor Dove
has found that an illumination by a flash of lightning pro-
duces the same effect. During a thunderstorm he put a color-
top in exceedingly rapid motion, and found that every flash
revealed the top as a motionless object with its colors distinct.
If illuminated solely by a flash of lightning, the motion of all
bodies on the earth's surface would, according to Professor
Dove, appear suspended. A cannon-ball, for example, would
appear to have its flight arrested, and would seem to hang mo-
tionless in space as long as the luminous impression which re-
vealed the ball remained upon the eye. If, then, a rifle bullet,
passing through the brain, move with sufficient rapidity to de-
stroy life without the interposition of sensation, much more is
a flash of lightning competent to produce this effect. We
have well-authenticated cases of people being struck by light-
ning who, on recovery, had no recollection of pain.

The Rev. Dr. Bartol, who was lately nearly killed by
lightning, expressed the belief that if the stroke proved fatal,
it must produce the most agreeable mode of death; but to be
stunned, as he was, is very unpleasant. As soon as conscious-
ness returned he experienced a terrible sense of oppression,

400 7HE ENCYCLOPyEDIA OF DEATH

and an irresistible weight seemed passing tl^rough him, while
his mind was dazed so that for awhile it seemed he had sud-
denly been precipitated into Wonderland. His recovery was
attended by headache, continued for a week.

The following case is described by Hemmer: On June
30, 1788, a soldier in the neighborhood of Mannheim, being
overtaken by rain, stationed himself under a tree beneath
which a woman had previously taken shelter. He looked
upward to see whether the branches were thick enough to
shed the rain, and in doing so was struck by lightning, and
fell senseless to the earth. The woman at his side experi-
enced the shock in her foot, but was not struck down. Some
hours afterward the man recovered, but remembered nothing
about what had occurred, save the fact of his looking up at
the branches. This was his last act of consciousness, and he
passed into the unconscious condition without pain. The vis-
ible marks of a lightning stroke are usually insignificant, the
hair being sometimes burnt, slight wounds occasioned, or a
red streak marking the track of the electric discharge over the
skin.

Professor Tyndall relates — standing in the presence of an
audience, about to lecture — that he accidentally touched a wire
leading from a charged battery of fifteen Leyden jars, and the
current passed through his body. He says life was absolutely
blotted out for a very sensible interval, without a trace of pain.
In another second or so consciousness returned. He saw him-
self in the presence of the audience and in contact with the
apparatus, and immediately realized that he had received the
battery discharge. The intellectual consciousness of his po-
sition was restored with exceeding rapidity, but not so the op-
tical consciousness. To prevent the audience being alarmed
he stated that it had often been his desire to receive, accident-
ally, such a shock, and that his wish had at length been grat-
ified. But while making this explanation the appearance
which his body presented to himself was that of being in
separate pieces. His arms, for example, seemed to be de-
tached from his body and suspended in the air. Memory and
the power of reasoning and speech were complete long be-
fore the optic nerve recovered from the electric shock.

(the end of vol. I.)

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