Life and labor in the spirit world / Being a description of localities, employments, surroundings, and conditions in the spheres.

The work of the spirit is true labor; it may not be labor of the hands, but it is of the heart; it is the impelling of spiritual force outward from within, directing that force in certain channels, or against special obstacles, in order to accomplish a purpose. Spirit work is always for the attainment of some definite end or object, never for the whiling away of an idle hour, or the performance of some task that is to delight for a brief, fleeting moment.

Let me give you an illustration of how spirits work; but this instance is by no means an example of all the methods that spirits take to accomplish their labors. Oh, no; these methods are varied, even as individuals vary in their natures and constitutions.

A SPIRIT MOTHER REFORMS HER WAYWARD SON.

In a certain city of this fair land dwells an individual who is at our present writing universally respected and beloved by all who know him; but such was not always the case. Twenty years ago this individual was a young man given to dissipation in its various forms; his mother, then in the body, wept and besought him in vain to abandon his evil course, and turn to a better life. Finally, the mother entered spirit life, and for a time that young man plunged into the wildest of dissipations. In the meantime, the mother, awakened in the spirit world, found that she could return to the side of her son, and to a certain extent exert an influence upon him. She began to follow him wherever he went, steadily bending her will-power upon his mind. Into places of low and evil resort went that spirit mother with her erring son; scenes that made her soul grow sick within her met her pure vision. Yet she faltered not; her work lay before her, and accomplish it she would, whatsoever obstacles might interpose.

It would make an interesting volume to describe the experiences and incidents that befell the spirit. For a time the case seemed hopeless, but still the spirit despaired not. Occasionally thoughts of his mother’s teachings, and remembrances of her devotion and love for him, would flit across the mind of the dissolute youth, and for the moment his heart would seem to melt; but the force of habit and association had such a hold upon him that these brief moments of remorse would pass away and seem to leave no trace. But all such experiences do leave their impress upon the spirit for good, and in this instance they afforded means of encouragement and power to the angel mother, whose mission was to accomplish the reformation of the immortal soul of a well-loved son.

Three, five, eight years passed; the youth, now grown to manhood’s estate, but in all appearance a perfect wreck of humanity, drifted away from the home of his boyhood among strangers, homeless and alone. Of course he fell among evil associates, but still memories of long ago, and occasionally remorseful thoughts of his own impure life, continued to haunt him.

Still the spirit mother exerted her influence upon him, and it finally became manifest in a singular manner. Groping through the city streets one dark night, he stumbled and fell, striking his head upon the pavement, which caused him to lose consciousness for a few moments; when he beheld the face of that mother gazing upon him with sorrowful eyes.

He started up, confused and alarmed; but the ringing pain in his head refused to leave, and he seated himself upon the curb-stone, holding his bowed head in his hands.

All at once a scene opened before him: he saw his boyhood’s home, and his mother standing in the door to meet him as he came from school; he heard her gentle, earnest words: “My son, whatever you do in life, seek to keep a pure heart and a clean hand.”

That was all. Then a calmness fell upon his spirit, as though the peace of heaven had descended there. He felt an angel’s touch upon his aching head, and tears of anguish fell from his tired eyes. In this condition he was found and taken to a hospital, where his wounds were dressed, and he was cared for until he recovered from the blow he had received. In the meantime the spirit mother, who had followed her son, succeeded in influencing one of the physicians in charge of the hospital, in her son’s favor; so much so, that he offered to obtain manual employment for him if he would work, which offer was accepted.

I cannot go into details; suffice it to say that the hitherto wretched man seemed to have changed his nature completely; and why? Because the mother’s influence had gained the ascendency over him. He worked early and late, at first at rough toil, afterward at more congenial labor. Time passed; he became respectable and manly in appearance; he shunned the haunts of evil and followed the good. Finally, he succeeded in gaining a competence; until now he is beloved and honored by all. And what do you think his present work is? He is the superintendent and guide of a mission for the suppression of crime and the development of good in the street urchins and unfortunate youth of the city.

For ten weary years a spirit mother watched and toiled, but at length she was rewarded, for her son was saved, not only to bless himself and her, but also to bless and strengthen many others.

Thus one mother toiled and watched and hoped, for many years, for the reformation and uplifting of a child. This is one way in which spirits work, but not the only one which they have of accomplishing their purpose.

Let me relate an instance of spirit work of another kind, and in a different direction from that spoken of above, which will reveal to you how possible it is for your ascended friends to assist you in material ways even though you know it not:

A widow, who resided in a neat little cottage with her only child, a young girl of sixteen years, maintained herself and daughter by the preparation of certain kinds of fancy work, in the making of which she was highly skilled, and which, being in great demand, yielded her an income sufficient to provide a comfortable living for both.

This woman was a good, careful, tender mother, and her daughter was reared to respect herself, her fellows, and her God. But she made one mistake; loving her child as she did, she argued that she could not put her to hard or tedious labor, and, therefore, she left her to her own pleasure, in place of teaching her some good and profitable employment.

When the girl was between the years of sixteen and seventeen, the mother suddenly sickened and died, leaving her child without the means of support. For a few weeks after this calamity, the orphan existed as best she could. Being obliged to give up the pretty cottage home, she disposed of a portion of its furniture, and taking an upper room in a lodging-house, furnished it with the remainder in a comfortable manner. As long as the money realized from the sale of her mother’s effects lasted, our young friend managed very nicely, in spite of the terrible gloom and loneliness that had settled over her spirit; but in a little time this was exhausted, and want stared her in the face.

In the meantime, the spirit mother, becoming painfully alive to the condition of her mourning child, sorrowed that she had not given her the means of earning a livelihood, and grew restlessly anxious to care for and assist that lonely one. She could not remain in the spirit world with her dear companions, but constantly returned to her child, who lived alone and friendless on the earth, seeking ever to influence and guide her aright.

Finally, as pressing want necessitated the immediate trial of some work, the young girl—in a state bordering upon desperation—decided to attempt to perform a piece of the work which her mother had been wont to do so skillfully and well, whose busy fingers she had watched so many times. Materials being at hand, she collected them together and began her unaccustomed task.

Never before had she attempted anything of the kind, and at first she was excited and nervous; but as the fingers flew over the delicate, fairy-like work, she grew more composed and hopeful, until, when her task was finished, she held it up to the light in an ecstasy of admiration, exclaiming in triumph: “Why, it looks almost as good as mother’s used to.”

Again and again did she attempt a piece, and each time her success grew more sure and certain, until, when the curtains of evening fell, quite a little pile of delicately finished work lay before her shining though weary eyes.

On the following morning, our friend, after consuming a hasty meal of crackers and water, carried the work she had finished to one of the former patrons of her mother, who examined, bought, and paid for it, furnishing materials for more of the same kind.

The girl hastened home to resume her work, and again transpired that strange scene of an inexperienced, unskilled child performing work which required dexterity and practice, without making a single mistake; and so on, from day to day, week to week, until she was no longer inexperienced, but had become skilled in her task, and was enabled to take advantage of it, and thus gain more time for recreation for herself.

What was the solution of this—to the girl—seeming mystery? Why, merely that the spirit mother, drawn to her child day by day through the intensity of her love and anxiety, impressed that child to attempt the work, and guided her in the performance of it, not by unconsciously entrancing her and doing the labor—in which case she would not be teaching the daughter—but by impressing her how to proceed, guiding her fingers, and directing the work, until at length the daughter needed no teacher, for she had become an adept in the art of labor.

And yet another good than the power of earning her own living was received by the maiden; in close communion with her spirit mother, though she knew it not, she began to lose the sensation of loneliness and gloom, and gradually grew peaceful and calmly happy. Thus was a double good wrought by that spirit mother, whose anxiety for her child’s happiness first led her to make the mistake of rearing her in ignorance of manual labor, and afterward caused her to project her influence from the spirit sphere upon that child, thus becoming a teacher, in order to rectify the mistakes of the past.

To those interested in this narrative I will say the young girl soon made friends and companions, and she is now living a loving, happy, useful wife and mother.

Every spirit who cares more for others than for self—and all spirits will do so in time—has a work of some kind to perform, a work of uplifting, benefiting, and blessing one or more individuals—spirits or mortals; and he or she will pause not in despair in this labor of love until it is accomplished, and then at its completion the spirit will not lay down its power of work and say: “I have accomplished my labor; I will now rest;” but, instead, passes on with a smile to new departments and new scenes of labor.

PARENTS SUDDENLY BEREAVED.

A young and beautiful girl, the pet and pride of fond, indulgent parents, the joy of the household and its only flower, just passing into the budding stage of womanhood, met with an accident. She was out riding with a friend, when the coachman, who was partially intoxicated, lost control of the spirited animal he was driving, and it dashed along the road at headlong speed until brought to a sudden check by rushing against a great rock by the roadside. The carriage was overturned; one of its occupants escaped with but few injuries, as she fell upon her companion; but the other, the young girl of whom I write, was taken up senseless and conveyed to her home, where a medical examination revealed that a fatal injury had been inflicted upon the spine.

For nearly three weeks the young lady lingered, enduring the most excruciating agony of body, unable to move, while nothing but the administration of anæsthetics would give her a moment’s ease from pain. At length her exhausted spirit took its flight from the poor broken body, and she was at rest.

The parents of this child, whom I shall call Estelle, were in affluent circumstances, cultivated and refined people; the father, however, did not believe in a future life, and his grief at the suffering and death of his only child was almost uncontrollable; the mother, a beautiful little brown-eyed woman, was a member of a Christian church, and while she sorrowed in anguish over the bereavement she had sustained, yet felt as one who has something to look forward to; for she hoped to meet her treasure again in another world.

Estelle, who had passed from earthly life and suffering, had been lovingly welcomed, and tenderly cared for by gentle ministering spirits, who bore her to a bright home, where immortal flowers bloomed, and where everything spoke only of beauty and of joy. The sweet spirit was delighted with all she beheld, and for a brief time seemed to bask in the glory of her new surroundings.

THE FATHER’S GRIEF AFFECTS THE SPIRIT.

But soon those around her observed that she ceased to take an interest in them and their work; her thoughts constantly turned backward to earth and the home of her parents. Shades of sadness lurked in her lovely eyes and clouded her pure face. Soon the cause became apparent; her father was drifting away from her spirit, and she could not hold him by her love. Her mother’s spirit she could meet and soothe and cheer, and so leave a quiet blessing of holy peace with her, that upheld while it strengthened; but the father’s spirit was so beclouded and tossed that the spirit child could not find comfort by his side. And no wonder; for as the weeks flew by, the father became still more restless and unhappy. Said he to a clergyman who came to condole with him: “Sir, it is of no use; I cannot believe in your religion. I can find no hope for a future life in its teachings, no assurance that there is a divine Creator. Why, sir, did I believe in the existence of a God who permitted that terrible suffering and horrible death to visit my beautiful, innocent child, who never wronged a human being, or did an unkind thing in her life, I would curse him as a fiend, unfit for human companionship, much less for worship.”

Such talk as this, engendered by morbid, bitter feelings, distressed his gentle wife and tortured the spirit daughter; but what could be done? The man seemed to be fast drifting toward hopeless insanity, and there was no one to give him succor and relief. His friends offered him as consolation words of religious sympathy and exhortation; but these only served to madden him the more; while his poor wife could only clasp her hands and kneel in prayer to Him who knoweth the needs of each one, and responds to them as he thinketh best.

THE SPIRIT SEEKS TO MAKE HER PRESENCE KNOWN.

The beautiful spirit Estelle had learned that it was possible for spirits to return to mortals, manifesting their intelligence and demonstrating their identity to their earthly friends; and feeling that nothing but a complete and perfect recognition of her presence would convince her father of her continued existence, and so restore the equipoise of his wavering senses, she set herself to work to prove to him the immortality of the soul.

But how was she to begin operations? Her parents never mingled with Spiritualists, would not listen to a word in their favor; they were not mediumistic themselves, and their home did not afford suitable conditions for spiritual manifestations of any kind. What was to be done? Our friend Estelle visited medium after medium, seeking to influence them to address her parents; she attended circle after circle, in order to gain experience in spiritual control; she devoted her time to this work, and the months rolled on, bringing no satisfaction with them, only increased sorrow and gloom to the earthly home, and sadness to the waiting, watching spirit, who could only exert just influence enough over her paternal parent to prevent him from becoming insane outright.

At length, through the agency of a kindly spirit, Estelle came in contact with a poor and humble working-woman of about twenty-two years of age, and after a few experiments found herself able to sway the thoughts and control the actions of this person as she desired.

One morning, this woman awoke with a strange feeling of depression; the thought of going to work in the great mill where she was accustomed to labor seemed more than ever distasteful, while the idea of taking a holiday for herself appeared very alluring to her.

After an early breakfast, dressed in her Sabbath clothes, she emerged from her boarding-house, but, in place of turning toward the mill, walked in the opposite direction toward the heart of the town, and wandered hither and thither, scarce knowing for what.

THE RECOGNITION AND ITS RESULTS.

It was nearly noon of the same day, when Estelle’s mother hastily entered her husband’s library and requested him to come out into the garden, for a strange person had been found within the gate who was acting in a very unaccountable manner.

The husband passed out into the garden followed by his wife, and found our mill-hand seated by the side of a rose-vine, which had been a favorite of his daughter.

Her eyes were closed, and her hands lay folded in her lap, but at the approach of the pair she stretched them out and said: “Oh, father, father, don’t you know me? I am your little Estelle, whom you thought had left you; I have not died; I am here with you, to bring to you and darling mother my love. Don’t you know how you used to call me ‘pet,’ and ‘chickie,’ and your ‘blue-eyed belle?’ Oh, father, I am so glad to come to you, and tell you what a happy home is awaiting you and mother with me.”

The man and woman were astounded; they knew not what to say; they had heard of Spiritualism, but had never attempted an investigation of it, and, therefore, did not understand what to do with this strange being.

However, she continued to speak, relating story after story of the early life of their child, until at length the mists seemed to clear away from the father’s brain, and he accepted the joyful truth that his child was before him, not in her own material form, but in control of the organism of one who was a perfect stranger to all parties.

I cannot continue these interesting details; suffice it to say that, when spirit Estelle loosened her control of the medium-stranger, her parents were both bathed in happy, joyful tears. The father of the spirit questioned the strange woman, who was in a perfect tumult of amazement, incredulity, and wonder at her surroundings and the strange story related to her.

Her humble history was soon told, and investigation proved its truth. In a short time, this lowly working-woman was invited to make her home with Estelle’s parents, she to receive a liberal compensation as companion and medium for them. The generous offer was accepted, and today she is an honored inmate of that happy home, where, when evening’s shadows fall, Estelle makes her daily visit, to impart instruction and information concerning the heavenly life to her listening parents, and to shower their hearts with loving benedictions, which purify and bless their souls.

No longer is the mother sad and despairing; no longer is the father bitter and misanthropical; peace and joy have become inmates of their household. No longer is the humble medium friendless and alone; a beautiful home and friendly, loving attention are hers. No longer does Estelle sorrow and repine; but she returns from the spiritual world day by day to accomplish her work of guiding her dear ones home to the better land.

The Summer-land is so near to this mundane sphere of yours, my friends, that I am often led to question why it is you cannot often hear the sounds of its busy, active life. But I know that the din and bustle, the cares, turmoils, and perplexities of mortal existence have dulled your hearing, and sealed your senses to the beautiful, internal, ever-new life and activities of the spiritual universe, and that only in a few instances can you sense the presence and power of invisible, potent beings.

But I have to record one instance of perception of spiritual things, that I may term an echo from the Summer-land; an echo that brought music, heart-ease and peace to two weary, suffering human hearts, yet encased in the temple of flesh.

Recently a rare case of suffering and devotion has come to my knowledge. A woman, young in years, yet a mother and widow, was struggling on in spite of want, poverty, and pain, seeking to earn a subsistence for her two children, grew weary, faint, and exhausted, when her little ones were taken from her without a moment’s warning, and hurried into the spirit world by what you of earth call an accident. They were together at play, when an embankment caved in and buried them beneath its ruins.

The poor mother was nearly wild with grief. She became ill, and in a little time it was found that she could never see again. The shock to her system, together with previous exhaustion from over-work, had paralyzed the optic nerve, and she was blind.

Upon a lower floor of the humble tenement where this poor woman lived dwelt another, a noble soul, one who had seen better days, but had also been brought to a condition of extreme poverty by the hand of adversity. This was a poor, middle-aged woman, who was employed as night-nurse at a public hospital in the city. She had always presented a kindly, friendly manner to the widow and her children, but nothing of a special nature had been observed.

Suddenly, however, as the terrible catastrophe that hurled the two children into eternity occurred, this woman seemed to arouse to the distress of her neighbor; and when it was found that the poor woman was ill and in need, all the heroism of her nature was called forth. She hastened to the bedside of the suffering one, nursed and attended to her wants with rare devotion, neglected her own comfort for the sake of her neighbor, and finally gave up her situation at the hospital, in order to be with her at all times her presence was required.

At the time of the accident, as the situation of the poor mother became known, a few sympathetic persons contributed certain sums of money for her relief; but in a little while these became exhausted, and she was again penniless; then did the kind nurse take prompt action. Not content with caring for the sufferer, she brought her down to her own more comfortable apartments, shared her little store with her while it lasted, and watched and tended her like a mother caring for a well-loved child.

But the invalid was unhappy, aye, wildly unhappy. Her children dead, her home broken up, herself bereft of sight, a weak, miserable wreck of her former self, dependent upon the bounty of another, and that other a poor woman, almost a stranger,—what had she left to live for? Surely nothing, she thought, and daily she longed and prayed for death to come to her deliverance.

Before a great while, however, the slender resources of our nurse had given out; then it was that she sought and obtained a kind of cheap needle-work that she could take home, and at the same time attend to the wants of her charge.

These were dark days. Poverty, hunger, and cold sometimes stared them in the face; but still the noble woman faltered not in her labors of love, nor ceased to speak cheeringly and encouragingly to the helpless invalid she had chosen to burden herself with.

THE LESSON OF SELF-SACRIFICE.

Let me here pause to comment upon the noble, self-sacrificing spirit of this humble nurse. Impecunious herself, she could yet find something to spare for another; but far more than this, she could deprive herself of the necessities of life, and devote her time, attention and care to one who had no claim upon her, save as she appealed to the sympathies of a tender soul. Risking want and suffering for herself, she gave up her only means of support in order to be able to care for that other, and finally took that other into her own home, shared with her her own little all, depriving herself of health, strength, and much that makes life bearable, to comfort and sustain her charge. Can human love do more than this? Is spirit love more tender, more self-denying, more beautiful?

The Nazarene said: “As ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me;” and again, “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for another.” But better than the sacrifice of life is the constant denial of self, that continually blesses another at the expense of the individual.

Oh, Spiritualists, heed the lesson of this woman’s work as revealed to you in these pages; heed it well, for by such labors is the soul brought into communion with the angels and fitted to enjoy the blessings of heavenly life.

There are thousands of human hearts pining for some one to love, and for some one to love them; would they but look around them, and take an active, sympathetic interest in their fellow-creatures, they would speedily find some one to love, and would win a soul’s affection in return.

DAYS OF DARKNESS.

The days sped away, bringing only poverty and want to the little humble home. The brave woman fought nobly to keep the wolf from the door, but with ill success. The invalid still lay exhausted, weak and sightless, a helpless burden, constantly pining for a release that did not come.

Dark and dreary seemed the days before them; friends they had none, and their neighbors took no notice of them. Still the brave nurse resisted the sick woman’s plea to be sent away; well did she know that unkindness and neglect would become the portion of that suffering one, did she heed her request, and so she struggled on until the hour of which I write.

It would seem that human distress could go no further. It had been a day of suffering untold. Hunger, cold, and darkness settled down upon that little home, as the shades of night closed in upon a dreary March day. The last morsel of food had disappeared, the last stick of wood burned the day before.

Silence fell upon the inmates of that little room, for their anxiety and care were too great for words. A sense of feeling like despair settled upon their hearts; it seemed that the burden of life was too great to be borne.

WORDS OF CHEER FROM THE SPIRIT LAND.

Suddenly, through the stillness and darkness, there came a faint, sweet sound of children’s voices; like a far-off echo from some unseen land it fell, swelling louder and louder, until the tones could be distinctly heard, and these words sung in chorus floated upon the quiet atmosphere of that little room, made holy by the spirit of tender love and abnegation:—

A hush of holy quiet now fell upon the tortured hearts of the two women; peace indeed entered their souls, for in those angelic tones they recognized familiar voices,—the one, those of her two children, who had been so recently snatched away from her; the other, that of a beautiful boy who, years before, at the tender age of four years, had been called home to the angels, leaving her almost crazed with pain and grief.

The instance here recorded was the first echo our friends caught from the Summer-land,—nothing more, nothing less than that one little verse sang in the familiar tones of their departed children, and which were recognized as those of the voices of loved ones gone before.

Want of space compels me to be brief with my narrative. I must not dwell on the long, hard, cold winter which these two women were called upon to endure; I will only state that on the day following the blessed evening that brought such great comfort and peace to their weary hearts our good nurse succeeded in finding a little work, which continued from time to time, and yielded just enough income to purchase the plainest necessities of life.

Many times did these two women feel the pangs of hunger and cold; many times during that relentless winter did they almost despair of keeping life in the body; but after events proved these bitter experiences to have been refining, spiritualizing, and unfolding to their natures.

For two months after the spiritual experience which I have recorded occurred nothing more was heard or felt of a like character; yet the memory of that one beautiful hour lingered in the hearts of those women, and caused them often to speak in rejoicing tones of it. But at last the time came when our poor, sightless invalid began to hear whispered words and sweet sounds; lights of golden and azure hue flitted before her eyes, and finally she beheld smiling faces and shining forms,—first those of her dear children and departed husband, then others that she recognized as those of dear ones who had passed from earth life years before; and, at length, strange individuals, whom she did not know, yet who smiled upon her, bringing her messages of encouragement, hope and cheer.

Her faithful companion and friend had become obliged to leave the invalid daily for a few hours, in order to earn the trifle which she could obtain by menial service to others, and it was during these lonely hours that she beheld the glowing forms and listened to the spirit utterances of which I write.

Many an evening then did the two women spend in happiness together—the one in relating her pleasant spiritual experiences of the day, the other in listening eagerly to them; and though cold and hunger sometimes nipped them severely, yet there were no two happier beings in all that large city, for they had spiritual meat to eat, which others knew not of.

In describing some of the strange visitants who came to her, and mentioning the words they uttered, our invalid was delighted to find that they were recognized by her companion; and now a double joy was theirs, for through the unfolded medial powers of one, both were enabled to hold sweet and loving communion with their dear ones in the spirit world.

THE MISTS CLEARING AWAY.

It was a clear, cold Sabbath day in March; our friends were seated together in their humble room, conversing on spiritual things, when a rap upon the door of their apartment startled them,—for visitors they had none,—and in answer to the invitation “Come in,” a lady, clothed in heavy and costly apparel, entered. The lady proved to be the wife of a wealthy Spiritualist. She had been directed to this humble abode by the spirit of her child, who had told her, through a medium, that there she would find manifold evidences of spirit existence, and a medium of great power, poor and unknown, in need of assistance.

The events proved these statements to be true; for hardly had the lady entered than the medium beheld a bright light shining all around, and standing in this light were many spirits who spoke their names to her, and whispered messages of hope, coupled with words and sentences concerning their identity; and a power she could not withstand impelled her to describe those spirits and to repeat their words aloud. The visitor wept for joy at receiving such tokens of spirit power and presence; she recognized the spirits, both by their description and words, and for a time it seemed as though heaven had descended to earth, and was chiefly known in that almost barren home.

You may be sure the lady insisted on paying the poor, blind woman liberally for her services as medium that day, and departed promising to visit her again in a short time. And not only did she keep her promise, but sent her friends to the poor woman to receive a spiritual baptism. Not one went away disappointed; all were gratified with what they received, and paid for it with willing hearts. At length the visitors became so numerous that the good nurse found herself obliged to remain at home to attend to her charge and those who came daily.

Instead of the spiritual power lessening, it seemed to increase, and the medium grew strong and happy. All care of the morrow passed away, and the two friends now began to reap the harvest of their weary-watching and patient trust in God. Our good nurse found sweet compensation for all her hours of toil, self-denial and sacrifice; for she had not only some one to love and to love her, but the daily companionship of angels, and likewise the comforts that material means can furnish.

In a short time, our friends were enabled to remove from their humble abode to a neat brick house in the heart of the city, which they furnished with taste and an eye to comfort. Here business grew and thrived; here the two women lived and blessed each other, the one by providing means of existence, as well as imparting spiritual light, the other in tender helpfulness and care for her companion. And today these two individuals reside in one of your large cities, honored and respected by all who know them.

The spiritual work goes on; the medium has never regained her sight, but she is no longer the pale, emaciated, despairing being she once was. Angel friends have saved her from a living death, and she delights to impart their blessing unto others. She has never been obliged to advertise for business, for she has all she can attend to; and it is not for the wealthy alone she sits, for many a poor soul has received spiritual bounty from her, without money and without price; while it is the delight of our dear old nurse, strong and hearty in her well-doing, to minister to the bodily comforts of those who are in needy circumstances.

Occasionally she, too, listens to the sound of angel voices, and it makes her heart rejoice; but her grand work seems to be in caring for others.

A child, young, fair, and innocent, lay dying among the pillows of a snowy couch in the upper room of a large and spacious house,—the only child of wealthy parents, whose hearts seemed breaking under the necessity of giving their loved one up to death,—for these parents had no idea or knowledge of the spirit world, and the power of its inhabitants to return to earth and to minister to their friends. All that skill could do or love suggest had been tried for the recovery of their one ewe lamb, but all in vain; slowly and surely the change was stealing upon him, and in a little while his spirit had joined the angel band.

Out in the chilly streets, not far from the stately mansion of which I have written, another child, as young and fair and innocent as the first, sat shivering with cold, and trembling with hunger. What was to be his fate? who could tell? This was the offspring of poor, respectable parents; the father had passed to the spirit world, the mother had earned her bread by hard labor, until an attack of acute bronchial trouble threatened her life, and she had been taken to the hospital for treatment, where she still lingered, battling with disease; while her little boy, uncared for and alone, sat in the street, or roamed about, picking up a bit here and there as best he could, returning at night to the humble room he had always called home, to throw himself upon his lowly bed and weep himself to sleep.

You may ask, in doubt, “Can such things be? Are such things allowed in a Christian land?” and we answer: “Yes; here in your boasted civilized country, little children, the pride and flowers of humanity, are permitted to struggle up through poverty, hunger, cold, and misery; and then you wonder at the existence of crime, the spread of evil.”

SHADOWS ON EARTHLY PATHS.

The child of the wealthy parents passed to the higher life, leaving that elegant home lonely and desolate, and those parents’ hearts sad and sorrowful. The mother of the little street-waif also passed on to the other world, leaving her beloved boy homeless and destitute; for the authorities, finding that the woman was no more, sent to her former home to ascertain the whereabouts of her friends. The neighbors could tell the messenger nothing, only that there was a little boy of about eight years; but they had seen nothing of him of late. Of the woman they knew little; she had been a hard-working, decent body, who minded her own business and did not talk much.

Concluding—without taking the trouble to investigate the matter—that the child had been taken care of by some one who knew its mother, the city authorities ordered the burial of her remains, stripped her former abode of its humble possessions, and when in the coldness and darkness of night the child crept home to his bed, he found the door locked, and himself unable to gain admittance.

And thus it happened that he wandered off, until, faint and weary, he sank down upon a door-stone, where he was found by a night-watchman and taken to the nearest station. Having been warmed and fed, our little waif told his story. He was then given a place to sleep, and in the morning taken to a charitable institution for children, and left in charge of its matron.

Just three weeks after these events, a wealthy farmer arriving from a Western city visited the institution in search of a boy to accompany him home and learn to do chores on the farm. Our friend Georgie was selected to accompany him; and after giving the references required by the institution concerning his character and ability to care for the child, the stranger departed, taking the little one with him. But arriving at his destination, it transpired that the man of wealth had not taken the child into his own service, but had brought him from the East to deliver into the hands of a neighbor of his, a hard, grasping, relentless man, who proved to be a most terrible and heartless task-master to our little boy, whose life now became one of drudgery and abject servitude.

Time passed; the health of the child began to suffer severely under the severe treatment received. This only served to harden his master toward him. It seemed that death must soon come to his release, when an event happened which changed the entire life of the boy, and brought him under conditions favorable for the growth of his hitherto stunted powers, as well as for the unfoldment of happiness within him.

We are not unmindful of the work of the spirit; in this case, the work of many spirits. The poor mother who had breathed her earthly life away upon a hospital cot had joined her husband and found a sweet home in the spirit world; but she had not forgotten her little, homeless boy on earth, and it was now her purpose and her mission, aided by her companion, to work early and late for that child’s welfare.

With sorrowful hearts did they watch over their loved one, with anguished feelings did they behold the misery of his daily life, caused and promoted by the severity of his cruel master; and it was with the greatest anxiety that they sought to guard him from evil, and to guide his spirit in the path of right.

A SPIRIT MOTHER LEADS HER CHILD.

At length, one calm summer evening, about eight months after the child had been taken to the West, and placed in the power of his keeper, our little boy was made happy by a sight of his dear mother. It had been a day of unusual hardship—work too heavy for him to perform had been given him to do, and when he broke down under it he had been met with blows and curses. Smarting under the infliction, he had crept away to his humble room, beneath the eaves of the old house, and, throwing himself upon the lowly bed, had sobbed himself to sleep.

It was yet early evening, when our little boy suddenly awoke, to behold the well-remembered face of his mother beaming upon him, and to hear her well-known voice saying: “Come, my darling, you have remained here too long, I cannot see you suffer under the power of your cruel master another day; follow me, and God will take care of you.”

The child, bewildered and but half awake, not doubting but that his mother had found him, and had come to take him away—for he had never realized that she was dead—arose from his low couch and softly followed the spirit form as it glided from the room and down the stairs, out into the cool, sweet dusk of a summer evening.

In the glimmering twilight he stumbled on, still following that form which he believed to be his mother’s, yet half-awed and somewhat frightened that it did not speak, but only seemed to glide along as though barely touching the ground over which it passed. By-and-bye, the wandering child heard the noise and bustle of a large city, not yet settled into the quietude of night, but he lost sight of the form which had led him such a long distance, and realized that he was alone.

What a situation for a child of nine years to be in, alone in all the world, homeless and friendless, a waif upon the wide sea of humanity. But do you for a moment imagine that the good spirits had deserted this little one? Ah, no! Hopeless, helpless, and alone, the child sank down by the roadside; the night was warm, the stars gleamed above his head; he was footsore, tired and lame, from his long and wearisome journey. Soon he fell into a troubled slumber, his head rolled from side to side, and he moaned in his sleep. In this condition he was found by a passing traveller, a gentleman of business, who was journeying to his home in the suburbs of the city, not far away. Not having the heart to leave the child alone, and knowing of no habitation near at hand, this gentleman determined to convey him to his own home; and as he was travelling by carriage, this was easily accomplished.

Upon reaching his destination, the little boy was kindly received and tenderly cared for by Mrs. Webster, the wife of the gentleman who had found him, and her sister-in-law, Mrs. Harris, who, in company with her husband, was visiting this region from their home in the East.

The terrible hardships which little Georgie had undergone for months, together with the mental and physical strain of that one night’s journey, left him stranded upon a bed of sickness, which lasted many weeks, during which time he knew nothing of what was taking place around him; but careful nursing and skillful treatment at length triumphed over the dangerous fever, and the child once more awoke to life and consciousness. We must now leave our little orphan in the care of the kind friends who had found him, and return to the eastern city from which he had been taken by the western farmer.

Our readers will remember that about the time little Georgie wandered friendless and alone throughout the city’s streets while his mother lay ill in the public hospital, a young child, fair and innocent, lay dying in a sumptuously-furnished chamber of an up-town residence. Mr. and Mrs. Harris were religious people; they attended a respectable and fashionable church, listened to the teachings of their pastor, and believed the bible to be unqualifiedly the word of God. But in the hour of their bereavement they found no relief, no consolation in these things; theirs was utter and profound sadness.

VISIONS OF THE NIGHT.

The lady’s health, never robust, began to fail; she became easily wrought upon by her surroundings, and sensitive to the slightest influence brought to bear upon her; the nervous system was pronounced prostrated by her attending physician, who recommended a change of scene and associations for her benefit. At times, while her mortal senses were locked in slumber, Mrs. Harris would behold the face of her little boy, and hear his well-known tones calling to her in words of love. So real did these visions seem to the lady that she could hardly believe them to be dreams, although—as she said to her husband while relating them to him—her common-sense told her that they could be nothing else.

Weeks passed away, Mrs. Harris dreamed on, drawing comfort and peace from the nightly visits of her spirit child. The visions became stronger and clearer; other forms than that of her little boy were sometimes seen, and other voices than his mingled in her ears. These voices spoke to the lonely woman of the spirit world, its joys, its home life, and its duties; so vivid did they appear to her that she would remember and repeat them to her husband in her waking hours.

At length the lady began to declare her belief that God had permitted her little one to return to her in her hours of sleep, to comfort her in her sore affliction; and truly did she seem to grow calm and happy in mind, even though her body became more delicate and fragile. Anxious for his wife’s health, and fearful lest her mind was becoming unbalanced, Mr. Harris consulted with his family physician concerning her strange condition. The doctor examined the lady, and pronounced her of sound mind; he declared the nervous system, however, to be shattered, and recommended travel as a means of restoration to health.

About this time, Mrs. Harris received a letter from her sister and husband living in the West, urging her and Mr. Harris to visit them in their far-off home. After mature deliberation on the part of our friends, it was decided to accept the cordial invitation extended by their relatives, the Websters; and they accordingly prepared to leave their home for the West, as soon as the spring should open and render travelling comfortable and easy.

DREAMS THAT APPEARED STRANGE.

One morning—soon after the above decision was made—Mrs. Harris appeared at the breakfast table in a pre-occupied state of mind, which her husband noticed, and which elicited inquiry from him as to its cause.

“I will tell you,” said the lady. “You remember Mrs. Stevens, the seamstress I used to employ to do my plain sewing? Well, the last time she was here I noticed she labored very hard for breath, and fearing that she had taken a violent cold, I paid her her due, and advised her to go home and attend to herself. It was the time Freddie was so very ill, and in my anxiety for him I forgot all about the poor woman; until about six weeks ago I sent for her to come to me, when I learned for the first time of her death at the hospital, which occurred last winter.

“I wondered what had become of her little boy, but supposed he had been taken care of by friends. You remember what a liking our Freddie took to the little fellow, and how he always begged to be allowed to show him some toys and give him cake whenever his mother brought him with her.

“Well, for the last three nights I have seen Mrs. Stevens as plainly as I ever saw her in my life, but with a look of distress on her face that she never wore in my presence. Last night, our Freddie was with her, and I heard him say: ‘Oh, mamma, her Georgie is in trouble, he is not treated well, he is unhappy, and it makes her so too. I like Georgie, and I want you to find him and make him happy, as I am happy in this lovely world.’

“There,” continued the lady, “I have told you my dream. I promised Freddie I would do what I could for the little Stevens boy; but I don’t know where he is, I am sure. However, I am certain I have had a visit from the dead, and I feel that I must keep my promise.”

This occurrence convinced Mr. Harris that his wife’s sanity depended upon his taking her away from home immediately; and so quickly did he push his preparations for departure that the end of another week found them fairly started on their long journey.

We do not propose to enter into the details of the trip, nor of their welcome to their sister’s home. The expectations of Mr. Harris seemed about to be realized. The excitement of the journey, the change of scene and of atmospheric influences, appeared to exert a beneficial effect upon his wife. The extreme degree of lassitude, formerly so frequent with her, departed; her step became firmer, her eye clearer, her voice more cheerful. Her appetite also began to improve, her new life seemed full of interest to her, and, best of all,—in her husband’s opinion,—no more was heard from her of nightly vision and visiting spirit.

It was a beautiful morning in summer, when Mrs. Harris startled her husband by exclaiming: “I had a visit from Mrs. Stevens again last night, who said to me: ‘Remember your promise; my child is in trouble; he will be brought to you ere twenty-four hours have gone over your head; I trust you to take care of him.’ And when she passed from my sight, our Freddie came, looking so beautiful that I almost cried aloud, so anxious was I to hold him in my arms, and he said: ‘Dear mamma, I come to you in this way, for I love you, and I want you to see how happy I am in the spirit world. I love you and papa dearly, but I don’t want to come back here to live. You will come to me by-and-bye; but I want you to have a little boy here to love and care for, and we will bring you Georgie Stevens. The cruel man beats and curses him; you and papa must love him, and teach him of God and the angels; he will be their gift to you.’”

The lady ceased speaking, and the husband stood looking upon her in silence. The sweetness and solemnity in her tones impressed him deeply, yet a terrible fear that his wife had become insane filled his soul with speechless sorrow.

THE STRANGE DREAMS FULFILLED.

It was the evening of the same day that Mrs. Webster sat watching for her husband’s return from the distant city. He was late, and anxious fears for his safety disturbed the serenity of her mind. Mr. and Mrs. Harris had retired, but not to rest; for the minds of both were disturbed,—the one over her vision of the night before, the other over the condition of his wife.

It was near the midnight hour when at length Mr. Webster arrived, bearing a burden,—the form of an unconscious child found by him on the roadside. The noise and bustle of the arrival aroused Mr. Harris, who decided to investigate. Judge of his surprise to find his brother-in-law burdened with a waif of apparently nine years of age,—one, too, whose sunburned features seemed strangely familiar to him. Actuated by a feeling of uneasiness, Mrs. Harris wrapped a light shawl around her, and also descended to the lower part of the house to ascertain why her brother had been detained so late.

No sooner had the eyes of the lady rested upon the face of the child—who had been conveyed to a bed-room and placed upon the couch, where Mrs. Webster was now attending to him—than she started forward, exclaiming: “It is, it is Georgie Stevens!”

In a moment her husband was beside her, and as he, too, gazed upon the form before him, the conviction fastened upon his mind that it was no other than the little boy whom he had more than once seen in his own house, and whom he knew to be the son of a poor yet worthy woman employed in former times by his wife as a seamstress. A startled silence fell upon all in that apartment, for each one present knew of the “strange dreams” that had visited Mrs. Harris; and as the stillness deepened, a peculiar light shone above the face of the fever-tossed child, which formed into letters, and then words, until the sentence: “God’s and the Angels’ Gift,” could be read, and having been read slowly faded from sight.

When the fever abated, and little Georgie returned to consciousness, he found himself cared for by loving friends, who had accepted their charge reverently and gladly; and when he became able to relate the story of his miserable life in the West, under the persecutions of his cruel master, the confirmation of the spirits’ statements to Mrs. Harris was received. In a little while the child was able to travel, and he was taken by Mr. and Mrs. Harris to their eastern home; for these good people had determined to adopt and educate him as their son.

Through these occurrences, Mr. Harris sought to investigate Spiritualism, which he did to his satisfaction, receiving unbounded evidence of its truth. His wife still continues to have “visions” and to hold communion with the spirits, and her soul is happy and at rest.

Little Georgie, now a youth who bids fair to make a mark in the world, has never seen his own mother since the night he followed her spirit from the home of his tormentor; but he delights to receive tidings of her watchful care over him from the lips of his beloved second mother, Mrs. Harris, who often holds communion with her spirit in the silence of the midnight hour.