CHAPTER IX - ADAM AND EVE.

 

URSULA'S little band of children now entered the arbor. We had been so deeply engrossed in conversation that we had not been aware of their approach. They had become weary of their play on the lake, and therefore had returned to their sweet guide.

 

My dear little girls rushed toward me fondly. I embraced Agnes, and then she quietly took a seat by my side, whilst the little one nestled in my arms. Ursula kissed them all affectionately, and Theresa remained near her; the others grouped themselves here and there about the arbor, chatting and laughing gaily. All at once my attention was attracted to a distant corner where some glittering object lay coiled up. I started up in affright.

 

"Oh! what is that?" I cried. "Why! it looks like a serpent!"

 

Immediately the creature began crawling around among the children. I screamed in horror, and clasping my little one closer to my breast, ran out of the arbor, expecting the others would follow, but to my utter amazement no one else seemed at all alarmed, and, as I glanced backward, some of the children were actually playing with what I supposed to be a poisonous creature.

 

Ursula gave a little laugh, and called me back.

 

"Come back, dear lady," she cried. "The serpent cannot hurt you. Come back, and observe how beautiful he is. He is perfectly harmless, has no desire to injure any one, and could not if he would."

 

I had paused and turned at her call. I saw that the creature's bright eyes were intently fixed upon me. Oh, how my heart palpitated with fear and horror! The dreadful creature was arching its neck, and the children were actually stroking and playing with it; but I found it impossible to return. I could not overcome my native repugnance and fear. At length the creature went back to its corner, and Ursula came out followed by the children.

 

"You are not very much in love with the children's playmate, I see," she said, laughingly; "but, I assure you, it is perfectly harmless, as are all of the lower animals and reptiles in this world: not one can either bite or sting. We have named that serpent, Adam; and he makes his home in that arbor; his mate is also there. You did not observe her. We call her Eve; and, I am sure, they are a very beautiful pair. One would not fear serpents if one were Sure they were harmless, and, as we know them to be so, we feel no horror or dread of them: on the contrary, we rather admire them for their beauty and suppleness. That pair in the arbor are very intelligent, and as old as the supposed Adam and Eve."

 

"Adam and Eve!" I repeated. "You astonish me! and I am also surprised, beyond measure, to find serpents here in this life."

 

She smiled quizzically as she said:

 

"Well; Adam and Eve have as good a right to be here as you, the children, or myself.

 

We cannot destroy them if we would, and they cannot hurt us. But why do you look with such horror upon man's first progenitors?"

 

"First progenitors? Surely, what can you mean?

 

"Just what I say," she replied, with a roguish smile. "They are the first or rudimentary forms that man ever wore; and we ought not to be ashamed of our ancestors. I am sure Adam, nor Eve, would never have disowned and cast-off their own offspring: low and vile as they may appear, they are truer to nature and themselves than many of their descendants. It is better to learn a lesson, even from Adam and Eve, than to remain in ignorance."

 

"What would people on the earth say, if it were possible for me to tell them, that serpents lived in this world, and that I had seen them?"

 

"Many of them would sneer and laugh at you, no doubt. Others might call you insane; but those same people firmly believe that a serpent conversed with Eve in the garden of Eden, and prevailed upon her to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. If the serpent was wiser than Eve, and able to instruct her how to obtain knowledge, lie is as worthy of immortality as she. I am certain our Adam and Eve, of the arbor, teach the children and me many a good lesson, if we but take heed, and treat them kindly."

 

But whatever Ursula might say on the subject, I was not yet ready to take kindly to creatures whom I had feared and hated all my life, and so I told her. She laughed pleasantly as she replied:

 

"Well; I cannot say that any of us particularly love them, but as we know them to be entirely harmless, having no fear of them, cease to abhor them as we once did on earth. But, dear lady, would you now like to enter the house? or you may call it school-house if you prefer.

 

I assented, and we slowly moved in the direction of the house; and here I would like to pause and describe it— tell my readers just how a house, not made with hands, eternal and in the heavens, looks; yet there are no two precisely alike throughout all the heavens.

 

This little school-house was the first one that I had examined closely, all the others had appeared somewhat in the distance, and Annie's house had disappeared before I had fully observed it.

 

This little house was in the form of a circular Chinese pagoda, a light veranda running all round it: the roof was bell-shaped, but instead of a bell an exquisite statue stood, one hand pointing upward, the other outstretched over a group of little children in statuary. The large figure represented a goddess so beautiful that it held me like a spell. The roof of this small structure appeared like shining gold; the statuary looked much more life-like than marble; in fact, the coloring was like the human form, and appeared soft and dainty; the drapery nearly transparent. The group of little ones was much the same.

 

The roof was supported by eight pillars, apparently of amethyst; each pillar was twined by a living vine; each vine differed from the other, and all were filled with the most exquisite flowers: around one was a lovely trailing rose, around another the dainty canary vine, and still another, the bright convolvulus; the others were vines such as I had never seen, and were beautiful beyond description. Hanging from the roof, midway between each pillar, were what looked like silver bells, and as a gentle breeze would strike them they tinkled most musically.

 

The floor of the veranda was slightly raised above the level of the ground, and appeared to be of amber. Beautiful little wicker chairs and settees were arranged about, decorated with knots of pale ribbon of various shades. There were four doors leading from the body of the house, and they were open. Four large oriel windows alternated with the doors, and they were more beautiful than a dream: they appeared like stained glass, but the staining was like that of a brilliant sunset, yet more lovely still. The doors were like pearl, the remaining body of the house like pure garnet of untold value, but one could readily perceive that this beautiful edifice had never been made with hands; it was a heavenly mansion, constructed by angels from their thoughts, or the desires of their love, for these little orphans, wherein the band retired for repose, and to receive instruction in many branches of knowledge.

 

An elegant garden of the most beautiful flowers surrounded the house, and birds were flitting hither and thither, singing their sweetest songs. I noticed many little canaries that I at once perceived had been pet birds on the earth, but none were confined within cages here; they remained near the house for love of its inmates. There were also trees and flowering shrubs all around.

As we neared the gate, which led into the garden and to the veranda, a large Newfoundland dog rose up, with quiet dignity, to meet us.

"Are you glad to see us, Faithful?" said Ursula, laying her hand upon the dog's head.

He waved his tail slowly from side to side, and then turned his intelligent eyes on me.

"Oh! the strange lady is all right!" said Ursula, with a smile. "He thinks he must guard our doors here the same as he did on earth, and he will not allow a tramp to pass through. So you see we are all safe." Again she laughed with roguish glee.

"A tramp?" I questioned.

"Well; why not?" she asked. "There are thousands of tramps, thieves, murderers, savages, and guilty creatures of all kinds, ascending to this world, and one is as liable to meet with them here as there."

"Yet they cannot hurt you?" I said.

"They cannot kill our spiritual bodies, but they might injure the souls of these little ones if left without guardians. If these children were left to associate with low degraded spirits, error would be instilled into their youthful minds, which must be guarded against. The children are immortal, and might be left without guides, but the angels in their higher wisdom know it is not best, and so they are graded into schools and classes, with each a competent teacher or guide."

 

"How strange it all is," I said, meditatively.

 

Surely, down on the earth they would not believe that there were schools in heaven."

 

"No," she replied; "but whoever thinks deeply on the subject must arrive very near the truth. There are thousands upon thousands of little children coming to this life every year; what can they think becomes of them? These little ones have no knowledge to speak of, they are simple and innocent, little buds and half-blown flowers, destined in time to become wise angels; and if they were not taught, how would they ever obtain wisdom? What would be thought of a father and mother on earth, who were rich or even in good circumstances, if they were to allow their children to remain untaught or in perfect ignorance: do they not, rather, send their children to the best schools, and often spend thousands of dollars to instruct and educate them in all branches of knowledge, that they may become wise and accomplished? And, really, is it not reasonable to think that heaven has higher and better advantages than earth can give? Heaven is not inferior to earth in anything, much less the methods by which children are taught."

 

The great dog stood one side, and we passed through the gate. This gate was a gem of beauty. In form it was very much like a gate used for similar purposes on the earth, but instead of being made of wood or iron it appeared a gate of pearls hung with silver hinges, it also had a silver latch and catch.

 

The pearls were of many sizes, set together after the most beautiful pattern, and near the top of the gate pearls formed the words:

 

"Home for Orphans."

 

The dog, Faithful, greeted each child, as it passed through the gate, in an affectionate protecting way, as though he thought their lives and happiness were in his keeping. His extreme dignity and self-consequence provoked a smile. Ursula smiled also, and seated herself on the emerald step which led up to the veranda. The great dog laid his nose on her knee, while she patted and caressed his intelligent head.

 

"You smile," she said, "because you were not prepared to find that dogs were immortal; but now that you are aware of the truth, I will tell you this dog's history— for he has a history more interesting than some human beings can boast. He accomplished a great deal of good during his life on earth, and saved many, very many, lives. He never committed an error or made a mistake. He never failed in his love or faithfulness, and he was as well aware that he saved lives as you or I would be if we had performed the same acts. He never killed man, woman, or child, although his size and strength would have enabled him to do so if he had been disposed; but he lost his own body while striving to save that of a human being, and he had suffered near unto death many times while performing the same kind mission. He is a real St. Bernard, and was kept and educated by the Benedictines for the purpose of going down the snow­bound mountain, and rescuing travellers from a frozen grave. He was, at length, frozen and buried, accidentally, in the deep snow himself But here he is; my good old Faithful! more faithful and worthy than many human beings who think he has no soul. Nature is more considerate of him, even, than the human beings whose bodies he has saved, for they in their ignorance consigned him to everlasting death or oblivion; but natural law preserves him alive, for which, I am sure, the children and myself are very grateful."

 

The children were already romping on the veranda, and two or three little pet dogs, with bright ribbons about their necks to which silver bells were attached, were running, barking and playing joyfully with them. The bright little birds and singing canaries were also taking part in their play. Truly, such a happy, joyous class of little girls I never saw before. Not even my wildest dreams of heaven could compare with the reality.

 

Ursula and I seated ourselves on one of the wicker settees while the children skipped and played around. In and out of the garden they flew, singing and chatting joyously; as they ran about among the shrubbery and flowers I perceived rabbits and white mice, butterflies, larks, robins, humming-birds, and many other creatures that I was familiar with. Two or three little kittens were scampering and playing together, and a couple of sedate cats were purring, and winking their large, yellow eyes. All was life; all was beauty; all was peace. The cats did not offer to touch the mice or the birds; their time for feeding on the bodies of their victims was long past, they lived but as spirits.

 

I know that all this will sound very strange to people who have been taught, from their youth up, that nothing but man existed after the death of the body; thus I had been taught, but it is a mistake. All life, whatsoever, is spirit, and all spirit is life; there is no death of any kind, or any where; the material body falls away from the spiritual and becomes disintegrated, but there is no death even in that; the spiritual body does not need it any longer as a covering or garment, and so drops it, and it becomes clothing for other forms of life which are spiritual. If such forms as I found here are the spirits of the forms developed on earth, why is it more strange that they exist here than there? If they are worthy to exist at all, they are as worthy to exist in one place as another, for, surely, I found this life a counterpart of the one I had left, but vaster and far more beautiful.