CHAPTER XV. REST.

 

SUPPER was now over. The St. Bernard, Faithful, entered the room with, dignified slowness, and went to each child in turn to receive a good-night caress; then to Ursula, before whom he stood longer than he did to the others, as though he well comprehended that she was the guardian of the little ones. She patted his head as she said:

 

"Good night, old Faithful! Guard us well, my good dog, while we sleep!"

 

He then passed before me, gazing into my eyes as though he would have said, if the power of speech had been his:

 

"You are a stranger here, yet I think you may be trusted."

 

Then he walked out and laid himself down by the gate, and Ursula said, that no creature' could pass that gate until she had given Faithful the morning signal. The outer doors were now closed, which gave the interior of this beautiful building the appearance of twilight, because of its heavily stained windows, and after we had all joined in singing a soft anthem of praise, the little girls entered those beautiful compartments, two in each room: Ursula pointed to one which was vacant, saying that one of the couches I might occupy with my youngest child, while the other was for Agnes.

 

I was quite weary: the apparent day had been a very long one; I had seen a great deal for one day, and was very glad to rest.

 

Agnes kissed me good-night, and I was soon as fast asleep as I ever was when in the earth-life once or twice, during the apparent night, I awoke. The gentle stillness, the soft twilight, the sound of the water falling from the spraying fountains, lulled me back to repose. Surely, my dreams of paradise were more than realized.

 

I should judge that we thus rested for at least ten hours. It was not dark night, such as there is on earth, and, really, I do not think it was dark at all outside of this beautiful little house; it was, merely, that we all needed rest, and by closing the doors we obtained it. As for me, I could not get along, at this time, without rest corresponding with earth's night.

 

At length we heard Ursula moving about in the main room. I arose, bathed my face in the reservoir of the fountain; my little ones did the same. I smoothed out my hair and theirs, then we joined Ursula in the schoolroom. Soon, all the children were there. We breakfasted, as we had supped, on fruit; and, shortly afterward, Annie and Sigismund came in. When our fond greetings were over, Annie said:

 

"Sister, we will now go and visit Joey. We had better leave your little girls here to receive their morning lessons."

 

'And so, bidding Ursula and the children adieu, we went forth to pay my eldest boy a visit. Annie said that his school-room was near the banks of the other lake, the twin to this. We floated on until the corresponding lake came into view, and soon we paused before a small house, somewhat different in style to the one we had left; instead of being circular in form it was square; yet it was surmounted by a golden dome, and, instead of a spire, there stood at its apex a bronze statue representing Hercules, with hammer upraised in his right hand; in the left he carried a flagstaff, and from it floated a beautiful flag of white satin, bordered with green and gold. Upon the white ground, in golden letters, were the following words:

 

"SCIENCE AND ART." "ERIN-GO-BRAGH."

 

This building had the appearance of polished granite, with four large plate-glass windows: the entrance was arched, and the large keystone was a brilliant diamond: the arch was deep, and within its recess was a door which appeared like solid oak. Seven steps ran up to this door: the first of granite, the second of marble, the third of gold, the fourth of pearl, the fifth of silver, the sixth of amber, the seventh a diamond. The door was entirely surrounded by stained glass windows, and there was an ebony knocker upon it. The house boasted no veranda, and stood even, with what seemed to be a side-walk of curious and very beautiful tiles.

 

This lake appeared very different from the other—its twin: instead of fairy-like boats it was covered with various kinds of shipping, There were ships, sloops, men-of-war, steamers, ironclads, ferry-boats, yachts, yawls, dories, skiffs, rafts, and lastly, very singular but exceedingly beautiful palace-boats, that seemed to be moving rapidly without any apparent means of locomotion.

Sigismund pointed to these boats, with a smile, saying:

"Mary, do you see those beautiful boats moving so swiftly through the water?"

"Yes," I replied, "and I am curious to know by what means they are propelled."

"Electricity is the motive power." "Electricity?" I exclaimed, in surprise.

He assented smilingly. I observed that all the boats on the lake were quite small yet very perfect, and all the boats were manned by boys who appeared to be having a glorious time.

"These boys are at play," said Sigismund; "and yet their play is work of the most learned and scientific kind. All those boats, which you see, have been built within the minds of those little lads, and they are inventing and building continually."

 

This lake was surrounded by other houses, no two alike, yet all were beautiful in design and architecture. One of the little boats now "glided up to a wharf that ran out into the water, and presently Joey came bounding toward us. To-day he was dressed in a sailor suit,—a little jacket of blue, white satin breeches reaching to the knees, a straw hat with a golden band embroidered in stars, together with an anchor in each flying end of the ribbon. His little shirt and rolling collar were of pale blue satin. He wore amber-colored silk stockings, and his slippers were embroidered with pearls. His sunny hair floated nearly to his waist. He doffed his little hat, as he came toward us, waving it around his head as a salute, and then, running up to me, he cried:

 

"O mama! How glad I am that you are here to visit me! I shall show you all my toys, and all my inventions. The professor says I am getting along bravely. O mama, mama! I knew you would come here some time, and I have tried to learn all I could, that I might have much to show you, and now you are here, you shall see all my treasures."

 

I stooped and pressed my beautiful boy to my heart. Surely, grief could never come to me more! My little children, who were dead, were all preserved alive and happy—happy and beautiful as any of my dreams of heaven could be, merely a little different, but far more natural and useful. Sigismund's penetrating eyes seemed to read my thought, for he said:

 

"Mary, that which men call God is far wiser than any man or church has ever dreamed. If spiritual beings had nothing else to do but to worship and praise, very little would be accomplished, either on earth or in the heavens. No doubt, you have often heard the phrase about making one hand wash the other, and this is true of all life, either material or spiritual. One hand washes the other throughout all nature; the spiritual spheres are all busy,—learning, imparting, reasoning, cultivating the arts and sciences—each mind following out the bent of its inclination; and then these hands turn and wash the others, that is: each mind turns its acquired knowledge to good account by giving to those who are not as wise. Nature is a great economist. That which men call God is too wise and economical to allow beings merely to spend their time in worship and praise; they must all work and acquire wisdom, that they may turn about and give to their brothers and sisters, their fathers, their mothers, their children, their friends an lovers, that may be benefited, and at last made happy. Ah! here is the professor, or the teacher and guide of the school in which your little Joey is studying. Herman, allow me to introduce Mary—the mother of little Joey here, and sister of my Annie—to your notice. She has but very lately come to this life, and this is her first visit to a school for little boys."

 

Herman took my hand kindly.

 

"Welcome, madam," he said, "most welcome; and I shall be very glad to show you our method here of teaching boys."

 

Herman appeared a young man of, perhaps, twenty years, and a very remarkable young man he looked. His figure was tall, upright, broadshouldered, and commanding: his hands, large, powerful, and well­shaped: his arms, indeed, were Herculean: his head was round, large, and massive, covered with short, dark curls, and set on a neck like that of a graceful war-horse: his eyes were bright hazel, large, wide apart, expressing great depth and intelligence. He had a prominent, well­formed nose, with delicate nostrils. His lips were sweet, but firmly set; his teeth, even, white and strong. A dark silken beard was just making its appearance. He was clothed in black velvet, with soft white ruffles at his wrists and on his breast. He wore nothing on his head, for he had but just stepped from the house. We were all standing in front of it. Joey insisted that mama should go sailing with him in his boat, and Herman said, the boat was, indeed, large enough to hold us all. Annie and Sigismund thought we had better do as Joey wished, for I had not taken a sail yet on spiritual waters. The motive power of Joey's boat was electricity, so they told me. Joey was delighted, and ran on ahead, we following; and now I must describe the boat.

 

It was in form like a large skiff, and appeared to be composed entirely of mother-of-pearl. The inside of the boat, together with the seats, was lined with pink satin, and strewn with fresh white roses, whose perfume was most exquisite.

 

Little Joey gave me his hand, assisting me into the boat with much gallantry.

 

"I knew you were coming, mama," he said, "and so had Margarita all prepared for your reception: Margarita is the name of my boat," and he pointed toward the bow of the boat. A figure-head, veiled in misty white lace, held within its hand a wreath of flowers, and, as I observed them more closely, the small white daisies which composed the wreath formed letters, which spelled the word, "Margarita."

 

The boat was, by this time, skimming rapidly over the bosom of the placid lake, and I asked Joey to show me how it was moved by electricity."

 

"Mama," said he, "I will it to go with my mind."

 

"With you mind?" I repeated, in some surprise. "I thought you said the motive power was electricity."

 

"And so it is," he replied; "but I am learning how to control electricity with my mind; still, mama, Herman can explain it more fully than I can, for I am only a little boy yet, and can do things better than I can explain them."

 

"Madam," said Herman, "will you please tell me what causes a bird to fly in the air? It certainly flies more swiftly than this little boat sails."

 

"To be sure!" I replied. "Really, it seems so natural for a bird to fly, I have never thought what caused it to fly."

 

"Yet, there certainly is a cause, or the bird could not fly."

 

And as he said this, a large white gull alighted on the stern of the boat, and eyed us without manifesting fear.

 

"Well, madam," continued Herman, "the bird's mind or will-power causes it to fly. In earth-life it has a heavy material body, therefore it must be supplied with a material battery, and electric wires running to every part of its frame. The material battery is its brain, and its nerves are the wires. The battery—its brain—is worked by its mind or will-power, which sends currents of electricity all along the different sets of wires—its nerves—which it desires to move, and when it is flying the motive power is electricity; therefore, the motive power which causes it to fly is electricity, and so of all motion whatever. Joey moves this little boat in the same way."

 

"But the boat is a separate thing from Joey," I said, "while the bird's body is its own."

 

"This spiritual boat is not a separate thing from Joey, at the present time," replied Herman. "He is able to disengage himself from it at his pleasure, and put himself in communication with it when he pleases. This boat is an outgrowth of Joey's mind, and, therefore, a part of Joey, and when he connects the electric wires between his mind and the boat, he is able to move it as you see."

 

"But the boat has no nerves, like the wing of a bird."

 

"No; and an oar, such as men use for propelling small boats in the earth-life, has no nerves; yet it is moved by an arm that has, and the oar in its turn moves the boat; yet there is no mind, or nerves, within the oar; but the boat, the oar, and the man's arm, are all connected in such a way that the boat is propelled by electricity— the electricity running on the nerves, or wires, of the arm of the man, and his mind, or will-power, governs it, and every independent motion which the boat makes: but it is the resisting power of the water which propels the boat, after all; for without that the boat would not move, despite the efforts which the man puts forth. Now, the resisting force in this case is not the water, but the atmosphere, the spiritual atmosphere, which is ether. Ether, or the ethereal atmosphere, which is the spiritual atmosphere, resists or retards electricity, or electric rays. Now, observe Joey's skiff, how it rolls lightly on a golden rudder, which acts like a scull. Now, Joey shoots the electric rays from his mind, or will­power, ahead; the ethereal atmosphere acts just as water does on earth, resists the rays. Joey is in communication with the boat through the rudder, and thus we are propelled. All locomotives and steamers, on the earth, will presently be propelled by electricity; but there they will be obliged to use a material battery, which will move paddles, wheels, and oars, yet all must be connected with the battery by electric wires. Soon, all great weights will be lifted by electricity. Magnetism and electricity are the motive powers which move all the worlds in space, as well as the cause of all light and heat."

 

Herman was very learned, no doubt, but I was not yet able to full understand all that he desired to teach me; yet, I comprehended much of it. Joey's eyes were fixed intently on some object in the distance: observing this, I said:

 

"Dear child, what are you, so earnestly, looking at?"

 

"Do you see that little island in the distance, mama?" he asked, pointing in the same direction in which the boat was being propelled.

 

"Yes; I do see something that looks like an island, and as we move on it appears more distinctly."

 

"We boys here named that island, Robinson Crusoe's island," said Joey, with sparkling eyes. "I am going to land there. Oh! we have great fun on the island," he continued. "I think we like to play there better than anywhere else. All the boys in my school have clubbed together and we have built a refuge, or home for lost sailors. O mama! we do good as well as have fun. It is really work which we do, but we make our work here, all play. I built this boat, but, then, it's my playboat. Don't you think it a very nice boat, mama?"