CHAPTER II. THE HOME OF THE SAGE.

 

 

Before us rolled an ocean's boundless blue,

A mirror of the ether's dazzling hue;

Green hills rolled from the shore like swelling breasts, With willows clothed, oft by the wind caressed And palms above their feathery foliage flung,

And round the orange stems the grape-vine clung.

The zephyr, drunk with fragrance, fanned our brows, Or, playing on the sea, coy dimples ploughs. High on a rolling hill a palace stood,

On either side embowered in fruitful wood From pyramid of steps glass pillars sprang, And high above the grove their cop'tal flung Above, a crystal dome like azure hung.

 

THEY paused in a grove of beautiful trees and shrubbery which gave forth the most refreshing fragrance. Near by stood an exquisitely chaste and beautiful structure. The graceful palm, the pine, the elm, vied with the orange, fig, date, and vine to give the most lovely forms. It was the home of The Sage, who sat beneath the shade, and at their approach extended wide his arms, exclaiming: "Welcome, sister I welcome, brother I welcome, my children, for I regard you as such; yet are you my equals, deficient only in the centuries of life which have taught me wisdom. I understand your wishes, and will at once instruct you in the elementary science of our lives. Look below. Behold earth with her myriad forms. See those clouds of electrical matter continually arising from every plant and animal, every living, moving thing; even from the mineral masses of the earth itself.

 

"The spheres were not created until matter became ripened by the processes of world formation. With the death of the first living form began the agglomeration into spheres.

 

"To illustrate: Your earthly body was pervaded by a spiritual element. Your death was like the death of the animal, whose external body in the same manner as yours contains a spiritual element. When death severed the ties which united your spirit with your physical body, the component parts of your spirit had sufficient affinity to retain them together without the intervention of the gross elements of your body. Not so the animal. The death-struggle breaks the connection between its material and spiritual; and its ethereal atoms not retaining sufficient attraction for each other, they, as vapor, diffuse themselves into space until drawn to their appropriate spheres!"

 

"Does this account for the non-existence of animals after death?"

 

"Assuredly, for you observe that identity is like a complete arch. In man the keystone of that arch is supplied, and the structure is eternal, while it is wanting in animals, and consequently at death the incipient spiritual entity perishes.

 

"The process of ascension of ultimate particles commenced while the earth was in its morning days, and has gone on increasing ever since. The soil which supports these trees differs from earth only in the degree of its refinement, and consequently its productions are similar to those of earth; and as the exhalations from the earth differ as its development varies, so this soil changes continually in its character. Hence this world, in the variety of its forms, has imitated earth, copying in minutiae all its types from age to age. Thus says a spirit from a world breathed into existence long before ours, and his knowledge is from direct observation. Soon after the Saurian Age, our sphere was inhabited by those reptile forms whose remains are buried in the permian and oolite rocks. The uncouth mammalia of the tertiary, alike, were all represented here. So has it been with all ages; their peculiar types and forms were all represented in this world until the present period dawned, when the refinement of atoms was so accelerated that spirits with highest intelligence alone can occupy this abode.

 

"Here is a shadow of the correspondence which has ever existed between the Spirit-world and earth. Matter is prone to take the form of its previous state; hence this grove, these beautiful plants, revelling in the light of their own spirituality. They have all lived on earth, and though the atoms which compose this orange tree never before united in this particular tree, yet all have existed in various orange trees before. Atoms thus modified have affinities to, unite in this peculiar form of tree."

 

"Then there are no animals here?" asked Leon.

 

"No, if you would view them, you must visit some other globe, or, as you journey from one world to another, you may behold all the innumerable types assumed by creative life. They existed here before the human spirit took up its abode in this sphere. They have passed away, as they ultimately will from the earth. This will take place when they have fulfilled their destiny and cannot longer subserve a useful purpose in its economy. There are none here now, not even the highest forms, the atmosphere here being too refined for their sustainment."

 

"I always rejoice at the song of the birds carolling amid the branches, and the busy activity of animal life; under this consideration, shall I not weary with the uninterrupted stillness which prevails? Will not my spirit cloy with the solitude of its home?

 

"Men are fond of the notes of the birds, and become attached to animals and places, because they find nothing better to love. Give them congenial companions, and they will not miss the loss of the lower forms. If this were your abiding-place, the weariness you fear would never come."

 

"And yet," said Hero, "in the earth-life well do I remember when my dear sister was taken from us, she who now is with us so bright in angel loveliness; how when the birds sang in the spring, it seemed like a sin for them to be happy while she could not hear their glad songs; and then it came to me like a beam of light, that if they could come, why not she? I went down in the orchard that April day and answered song for song.

 

"Again, dear bird, I hear your joyful note Through all the orchard and the meadows float; Again my heart is gladdened by your lays As in the well-remembered summer days. You went away in clouds and coming gloom, When wailing winds sighed over Autumn's tomb, And on the forehead of the dying year

 

The damp was changed to snow; the brilliant sere To funeral robes; and over all the plain The Winter-King came down and held his reign. You left us for a clime where never blow

 

The harsh north blasts with blinding clouds of snow Where all the air is fragrant as in June; Where rose and lily shed their rich perfume, And rarest fruitage tempts the finest taste, Profusely scattered through the endless waste. And with you went away another one Whose life ebbed with the south-receding sun. Beside her grave, moistened by many a tear, We stood, and as her casket on its bier Rested the time, a snow-flake, like a star, A tear of angel bending o'er heaven's bar, Fell on the calls in the wreath which pressed, By pulseless hands, above her gentle breast As awn the snow on all the dessert field Spread an unbroken and protecting shield!

 

On that dear mound the storms of rain and sleet Have, like relentless spirits, ceaseless beat And in our hearts no bad of joy will bloom, Draped, as they are, with cypress of the tomb. Oh, bird that sings so sweetly, tell us why If you remember still our leaden sky!

 

To come again and from your swelling throat Repeat the old-time love in every note, Our child may not remember, and return

To her home altar, where loves deathless burn! She did not die! I know the thickening cloud Our vision binding is an earthly shroud. I know her timid feet trod not alone The pathway upward to the spirit's throne

 

That those we loved who walked the way before, With tender hands ope'd wide the pearly door, And bade her welcome to their home of bliss With deep affection's all-assuring kiss. Oh, if you, little bird, can come again Across the trackless forest and the plain, I know our darling finds not Heaven so sweet As not to wish with us again to meet. Across the dark abyss, however wide, Her eager spirit on light wings will glide; And if we listen we shall hear once more Her voice of song in accents as of yore.

 

"Nature continually speaks to her children," replied the Sage; "let them roam where they will. Here are the changes of vegetation, the glassy ocean, the murmur of the brook, the roar of the cascade, no storms terrify or destroy, yet there are pleasant changes and constant variety. This is the home of the spirit. I stay here but a small portion of my time; the other portion I am visiting other groups. You will do likewise; but when weary with activity, it is pleasant to return to this retreat."

 

"I am then to choose a locality and call it home!" exclaimed Leon, in astonishment that his future life was to become such a simile of his past.

 

"That is as you please. When on earth you did so. Then you might have been a rover without a fixed habitation. The same applies here. You have a choice. This spot is my selection, and it is home to me. How strange you think of this! You still have a body; you have lungs, and must breathe; you have a stomach, and require nourishment. Here, above and around us, is our food. We toil and delve not to bring it forth, but these are all spontaneous productions of a fertile soil. Partake! Is not the flavor unsurpassed? Who ever tasted an orange more juicy, a fig sweeter, or grapes of such choice flavor?