CHAPTER VI. - THE RAINBOW BRIDGE.

 

AFTER eating as much fruit as was needful, I leaned back in my chair, and looked about the room with more interest and curiosity than before. My eyes riveted themselves on the picture, hanging just above the foot of the bed, representing my husband and the children left on earth.

 

Oh! how my heart yearned over them, and how sweet and comforting it was to have such excellent likenesses of them, and I asked, "Who painted that beautiful picture? It is far better than any I ever saw on earth, and must have been the work of a great artist."

 

"Mary, dear," she replied, "the artist who painted that picture is myself, and it was painted and hung there especially for your pleasure; a present that would be valuable to you, one which you would prize very highly."

"You were right, and very kind. Nothing could give me greater delight; but when and how did you learn to paint so perfectly?"

I found myself talking to her as naturally as people do to each other on earth.

"A few moments sufficed to paint and place that picture there," she replied.

"But a few moments?" and my eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Would you like to see me paint a picture?"

"Oh, very much indeed!" at the same time attempting to arise, thinking of following her to another room where she must employ herself in painting

It will not be necessary to leave this room," she said. "It can be done here just as well as anywhere."

She pointed to the wall opposite, saying: "Look steadily at that blank place on the wall, and you will see how quickly and beautifully I can paint."

Following her directions, I fixed my eyes on the wall. At first it appeared to be merely a beautifully tinted wall of blue-grey; but as I continued to look, forms began to slowly outline themselves, indistinctly at first, growing gradually more perfect until a picture of living beauty appeared to my astonished eyes. The picture represented a wide and dark abyss, with a light and beautiful bridge thrown across. At one end of the bridge appeared a large city, which I recognized as the earthly city where my husband and children resided. At the other end of the bridge appeared a city of heavenly beauty, an angelic or spiritual city. The bridge was raised slightly in the form of an arch, in fact it looked very much like a beautiful rainbow. On the bridge, in the very centre of it, stood a woman: her face was turned toward me; her eyes apparently looking directly into my own. The picture was so life-like that it seemed to me like real, moving, living things.

 

The form on the bridge had one hand extended toward me, the other toward the earthly city.

 

The form of a man now appeared, slowly moving from that city toward the form on the bridge, and as he walked, many other forms appeared near him, earnestly endeavouring to hold him back; entreating him not to venture on that frail support, the rainbow bridge. And now it seemed to me that I could hear what they said.

 

Oh," said one, "the bridge is an illusion there is really no bridge there; it is but the freak of a rainbow; if you venture on it you will sink into the abyss and be eternally lost; for the abyss between the two worlds really descends into hell." Others caught at the skirts of his coat and tried, by main strength, to hold him back. Still others appeared to jeer and deride him, but he kept his eyes earnestly fixed upon the form on the bridge. And now the workings of his mind were made clear to me, and I seemed to hear him say:

 

This bridge is no delusion: although it is as light and airy as a rainbow, yet I am certain it leads into the immortal country, and the woman standing there, in the middle of it, is as substantial as I am. If the bridge will bear her, it will me. Let me but shake off these detaining hands, ascend the bridge far enough to grasp hers, and I shall learn all about this heavenly country that is now hidden from my sight because I cannot see across this wide and dark abyss; she, standing at the very acme of the bridge, and half way between this and the country which is invisible to me, must clearly perceive both; and, whether I sink into the abyss or not, upon the bridge I will surely venture."

 

Saying this, he shook off the detaining, fearful hands, and with firm step he rapidly made his way up the rainbow bridge. At first he was fearful the bridge might prove treacherous and let him down into the gulf, but the further he went the stronger the bridge appeared to be. It really was as firm as the eternal rock of ages, and once fairly out upon it the gulf disappeared entirely. The rainbow bridge stretched out in width until it encompassed the whole earth-stretched into eternity, without beginning or end. All this he clearly saw before he reached the woman's side. At length his hand clasped hers.

 

"Mary," said Annie, "clasp that woman's other hand," and I at once obeyed.

 

Oh! joy—joy! The gulf was spanned! The bridge complete, for this woman was the medium of communication between the man and myself—whose eyes were opened to the truth at last. But who was the man? I gazed at him in questioning wonderment. Really, I did not recognize him. He was a fine, noble-looking man in the prime of life, and I instinctively knew that he was great and good. A singular mark around one of his eyes attracted my attention. My soul shook like a leaf in the wind. Great heavens! It was my little cherub of earth—my boy of three—grown a man. His little bandy legs, that had caused me so much uneasiness, were now straight and well-shaped; his form was erect; the birthmark had not entirely disappeared, but in nowise detracted from his manly beauty. But the woman? Who was the woman? I had not known her on the earth, had never seen her before to my knowledge.

 

"She is, at present, a little child," replied Sigismund to my thought. "This beautiful picture, which Annie has painted for you, is but a forecasting of that which is to be:"

 

And as I gazed the picture slowly faded from my sight.

 

"Of that which is to be?" I repeated. "How is it possible to know that which is to be?"

 

"That which was, is; and that which is, was"; said Sigismund; "therefore, to the wise, that which is to be, is. You have been taught in the past that God knoweth all things, all that ever was, all that is, all that ever shall be. Now there is a great eternal truth, or law, hidden within those words, and when once your mind is entirely disabused from the idea of a personal God in the form of a man, and you accept the great truth that the soul of man is the God-soul, you will at once comprehend that all there is to be may be known to the soul of man; and as Annie's soul has been freed from the material for many years, and become more wise and God-like, she is able to see that which was, that which is, and that which is to be; at least, she can comprehend these things through long periods of time which to your soul, not yet far advanced, might seem impossible."

 

"But how did Annie make that picture appear upon the wall?" I asked, utterly non-plussed. It seems to me impossible, incredible I"

 

"You have been taught, also, that nothing is impossible with God, and you did not think such an assertion strange when you were on the earth. People there generally accept that thought as true. It is true, but not precisely as it is understood by man. I mean, not in the sense that there is a personal God, and to him and him alone are all things possible, but to the soul of man—the eternal God-soul of man-all things are possible; and, for this reason, Annie was able to paint the picture on the wall, as you will also be able to do when you have the requisite wisdom, the knowledge which is required to perform the act."

 

Annie gave me a bright, sweet smile.

 

"Sister," she said, "thoughts are real things to the soul. I but projected my thoughts upon the wall, so that you might be able to perceive them like a picture. Earthly paintings are nothing but thoughts transferred, or made objective, on canvas by the use of a few colors, similar to those of the rainbow bridge, mixed up in oil or water. But we have more knowledge, and greater art in painting than the poor, plodding, material artist, who cannot make the picture within his soul visible until he has toiled for months, perhaps, with brush and paints on canvas. Would you not much prefer to paint pictures as you saw me paint them, perfectly, and in a few moments, with little trouble and intense pleasure, than be obliged to plod like an earthly painter?"

 

"Oh, yes," was my reply. But your picture vanished away, and that of an earthly painter does not."

 

"Neither does my picture vanish," she said, but will remain for ever." "Remain? Why, it is gone! I cannot see it."

 

"Cannot you?" she said, with a little, quizzical smile. "Look within your own soul, dear Mary, and tell me what you see. My picture is merely transferred to your soul, where it will remain for ever."

 

And instantly within my mind arose the lovely picture, even more beautiful than at first, filling me with sweet hopes and joyful expectations, for, to span the gulf had been my first earnest prayer or desire, and the picture was a sure forecasting of its fulfilment.

 

"The earthly painter's picture can easily be destroyed," said Sigismund, "but soul pictures, never. Material things are fleeting and perishable, but spiritual things endure for ever."

 

The picture was so exceedingly beautiful, and I had been so happy in its contemplation, that for the moment I had lost sight of the fact that it must necessarily refer to a period of time very remote from the present. Certainly, very many years must pass before that dear little boy could be a man of mature years. My spirits fell as the thought forced itself home to me.

 

"O Annie! Annie!" I cried; "You cannot mean that nearly half-a-century must pass before I shall be able to span the gulf betwixt my darlings and myself?"

 

"Mary," she replied, "what signifies half-a-century, or more, to a soul who can never, never die? Have you not half of your precious children here, with you now? and, sweet sister, look again upon the wall."

 

My eyes rapidly turned to the blank place on the wall. Where the first picture had made its appearance another one was slowly outlining itself, and, presently, it glowed distinctly in all* its beauty: it appeared to be the restless ocean without any land visible. At first nothing was visible but a waste of waters. The waves seemed to be rolling in one after another. Soon I caught sight of a little form floating upon the water, and with each wave the child was borne nearer and nearer, until—oh, happiness!—my baby was thrown almost into my arms. I made a sudden spring, as if to catch her, when remembering it was but a picture, I sank back with a gasp.

 

"Your baby will soon be with you, dear Mary," said Annie, "and then four children will be here, while only two remain below. Those on earth may not be conscious of your loving care for many years, but that will not deter you from watching over and guarding them from harm. Aye, you can do far more for them here than you could there. As soon as you obtain the requisite wisdom, you can nearly shape their course in life; you can daily feed their little souls with the breath of your heavenly love, and silently instill into their minds, wisdom and power. Eventually the beautiful bridge spanning the gulf will be thrown across the abyss, and the feet of angels shall walk to and fro upon it."

 

I begin to comprehend you at last," I said, starting up. "My love can do very little until I obtain more wisdom. One must understand how to do before one can accomplish anything, and like a growing child I long to begin."

 

"You began sometime ago," said Sigismund. You have already taken your first steps, and are about to walk alone, or in other words, to seek wisdom for yourself. In dropping error and taking up truth you have advanced quite a distance on the road to wisdom, and you feel some strength within yourself, do you not?"

 

"Oh, yes," was my reply, as I moved briskly about the room. "But where are the children? Is it not nearly time for them to return from school?" going to the window and looking out.

 

"The children do not live here," said Annie; "they merely came to welcome you. This is one of my homes, and your children do not reside with me. Now, sweet sister, you shall have your desire between two things; yes, between three. Sigismund and I will take you to visit one of the saints, the school in which your two little girls are placed, or we will take you directly to an educational hall for ladies."

 

"Am I not, then, to live here with you, and have my children live with me?"

 

"Such a course would not be the best way to obtain heavenly wisdom," answered Sigismund; "and as you are now in quest of wisdom, if you were to remain in this place you would not even be able to teach the two little girls who are here in the heavens; they are at

 

this time wiser than yourself, and you can learn much from them."

 

I felt a slight pang of disappointment, and seated myself while deciding which of the three things were preferable. Certainly a visit to one of the saints must be instructive and delightful, an educational hall for ladies would be charming, but my two little daughters rested nearer my heart.

 

Again my eyes roved around the beautiful room. There stood the white bed, but I was

 

not weary, therefore the bed did not entice me, there being no present need of it. As the foregoing thought arose in my mind, the bed began to grow dim, and at length disappeared entirely. I looked into Annie's eyes with astonishment.

 

"Why! where has the bed gone?

 

"We have nothing here which we do not need," she replied, "and as you have no further use for the bed, we have dispensed with it."

 

"Dispensed with it? Why, what do you mean?"

 

"We created that bed, especially for you, at a time when you needed it. Surely, dear sister, you must perceive that the bed could not have been a bed created like those of earth. Consider, for a moment, all that goes to make up such abed on the earth. First, an elaborate bedstead. Think of the time and labor of many workmen, which must go to make even that. Think of the years upon years which must pass before the trees can grow that form the wood out, of which it is made— especially if it be an oak bedstead—of the art and elaborate carving, of the woodman who felled the trees in the wild old forest, of the saw-mill, of the great wheels and saws used before the rough planks were even formed, of the turning mills and lathes; then, of the mattress stuffed with hair, and the looms; the girls who weave the cloth; the labor that is required in the careful preparation of the hair of animals: then, the fine sheets and woollen blankets; the downy pillows plucked from geese, and the labor of making them; and last, but not least, your bed had a white satin quilt. If that were made as they are made on earth, think of the thousands of silkworms and their cocoons; the labor of preparing and weaving the silk; the extra labor of making it into satin, so beautifully white and glossy, besides the making and quilting of the quilt. Ah, sister; it is much better to live in heaven than on earth, for I formed that beautiful bed, in a very few minutes, within my mind, and like the picture on the wall it became a real object, because of my desire to serve you in your time of need."

 

Then, slowly, one by one, each object within the room disappeared, and lastly the window together with the walls.

 

"The room and all it contained we created for you. Sigismund and myself created them within our minds, because of our desire to do so; and they became real things to your spirit, because they were of the spirit, and you are a spirit and can perceive and make use of spiritual things, which are thoughts of spiritual beings, thrown from their interior, projected into space according to natural law governing thoughts."