CHAPTER XX. LADY AGNES.

 

WE now turned our attention to the building or Hall itself, whose magnificent beauty astonished and bewildered me. It was surrounded, as before stated, by extensive grounds filled with exquisite flowers of all kinds, and very many such as I had never seen before. Beautiful trees and shrubbery abounded; elegant statuary gleamed through the verdure; fountains sent up their spraying jets in which could be seen the most magnificent colors; silvery paths intersected, winding themselves like shining serpents, everywhere.

 

The building was an immense structure, four-square. The great dome of pearl, surmounted by a golden belfry, within which hung a large silver bell. At the four corners, where the dome joined the body of the house, were four smaller belfries, in which were chimes of silver bells. The body of the building was a study indeed! Although the structure was of immense size, yet each stone differed from another; no two were alike throughout all its vastness, still all were so perfectly united and welded together that the walls appeared absolutely impenetrable: all the dark, heavy, coarse material was at the base, and as it rose, tier upon tier, the material became lighter and more exceedingly beautiful. Each of the four walls was pierced by an arched entrance; and set within the curves of each arch, with various colored gems, appeared a word, but no two gems composing the letters were alike.

 

Over one arch blazed the word, WISDOM! over the opposite one, LOVE! on another, TRUTH! and over the last, ERROR! No two of the four large doors were alike. The one marked "Error," was dark and sodden; the three steps leading up to it, which were of rough marble, were stained by indelible marks, some looking as though made by bloody feet and filthy hands; other marks seemed to have been made by pools of filth spewed from the mouth, and all about the doorway were marks and indentations as though made by violent, intemperate hands; although, all had apparently been washed clean, yet the stains, marks, and indentations remained.

 

"This is the door," remarked Annie, "by which the souls of those steeped in error, vice, and crime, enter this educational hall for ladies. You, and others, may think, dear Mary, that women, not ladies, are guilty of vice and crime, but before you leave this place you will think differently."

 

We now passed around to the door marked, "Love." Here the most beautiful roses were blooming, filling the ethereal air with fragrance: the door was a garnet, glowing deeply and darkly red; the steps were ingrained and flecked by rose petals in all their different shades, each leaf overlapping the other in beautiful mosaic, yet no two alike, or of the same color. The door-knob was of pearl, heart-shaped, a ruby set in its center.

 

Seated on the upper step was the most beautiful child imaginable, a chubby little girl, playing with roses, a veritable cherub. Her sweet, red lips were wreathed in smiles; her little teeth gleamed like pearls; her broad white brow was surrounded with dark, curling masses of fine, soft hair; her full, roguish eyes were filled with glee as she playfully showered us with rose leaves. Her white dimpled shoulders and arms were bare; she wore a rose­colored frock with an over-dress of dainty lace and pearls. I turned to Annie and said:

 

"You did not tell me there were children here."

 

"No. This is not a home for children," she replied still, many of the inmates here have children from whom they are not willing to part. The time will of course come when they will feel differently, but many who love intensely have not attained the corresponding wisdom, therefore, these children of love are not taken from them, but remain with them until sufficient wisdom is attained to balance their love, when they will, of their own accord, place their children within schools, where they can learn all that children should know. Mary, you are already much wiser than many mothers, for you are willing that your children should remain where it is best for them to be. Great love can injure its object if not equally coupled with wisdom."

 

"But this child is exceedingly beautiful," I said.

 

"Yes; but if she were always to remain at the door of love, she would never be anything more than she is at present; in fact, as she grew without wisdom, her beauty would soon fade and grow dim; love would pine and die for want of wisdom."

 

We now passed around to the door of Truth. Instead of a door there appeared a burning flame, and in the center of the flame stood the form of a woman. The scene held me spell-bound with astonishment.

 

"O Annie!" I exclaimed; "that woman will be burned to death!"

 

"Oh, no," replied Annie. You forget, dear Mary, that she is a spirit, and cannot be hurt by fire; besides, the fire which you perceive is not material fire, but the flaming brightness of Truth, in which she is being cleansed, and the filthy rags of error burned up from around her. That young woman is one of the advanced pupils of the school, and when the flame of Truth has consumed every vestige of error wherewith her spirit has been clothed, she will leave this school, become an angel, and enter into the joys and perform the mission of an angel."

 

The steps leading up to this flaming door were slashed and cut as with a sword or battleaxe, for, said Annie:

 

"Many battles between Truth and Error have been fought there, but flaming Truth has never yet been conquered within this Hall."

 

There now remained but one door for our inspection: the door of Wisdom; and we stood before it awe­stricken, dazzled by its brilliant beauty. The door was closed, being one immense diamond, priceless as Eternity, brilliant and flashing back as many colors as immensity. There was an ebony knocker on the door, and above it in letters of gold the words: SEEK AND YE

SHALL FIND! KNOCK AND IT SHALL BE OPENED UNTO

YOU?" I glanced at the steps; they were of the whitest marble, veined with gold, without a vestige of stain, spot, or blemish.

 

"Shall we knock, sweet sister?" asked Annie, turning to me,

 

But I drew back, feeling unworthy to enter through this grand, brilliant, and spotless arch.

 

"Cannot we enter by some other door?" I asked.

 

"You would not care to knock at error's stained portals, would you, my sister? for none but the vicious and criminal ever enter by that door:"

 

"O, no"; I replied, tremblingly.

 

"Nor by the door of love? for it is not love alone that we seek: nor by the door of truth? for you are not ready yet to bear its flame. No, dear Mary, we must knock for admission at Wisdom's door, or not at all. Approach the door, my sweet sister, and knock."

 

I ascended the spotless steps with timid reluctance, and, raising the knocker, knocked faintly.

 

"Louder," said Annie.

 

Gaining courage, I knocked urgently. Annie smiled, ascending to my side. The splendid door opened noiselessly and wide; we passed through into an elegant hall; the door closed softly behind us, and we stood gazing about wonderingly. The first thing that struck my sight was a stairway of shining gold. Let not my readers demur and say, there can be no gold within the spiritual heavens, for I assure them this was not material gold, but as real to the spirit as material gold is to mortal man. Let not my Orthodox or Catholic readers demur, for the heaven in which they believe is one whose entire streets are paved with gold, and this was one of the mansions within the heavens, not made with hands, but by the Eternal Spirit working through spiritual beings. But to continue, however. The hall floor was of pure emerald; the walls of alabaster, whereon was suspended many a beautiful picture, which I will not now describe in detail. There was an arched doorway at the right of the hall, another at the left, and a large double arch directly ahead; the doorways all hung with the most exquisite drapery of pale blue and gold, with filmy lace over-curtains, worked in the loveliest and daintiest of patterns. The statue of a beautiful female goddess stood midway of the hall, with filmy drapery gathered about its exquisite form by one hand, while with the other it pointed directly toward the large archway at the end the hall, its beautiful eyes wearing a welcoming expression as they gazed into our own. Really, it seemed almost life-like in its perfect beauty, yet it was but a work of art.

 

Over the entrance to the room were the words, as though written with electric light, LADIES' PARLOUR. Annie pushed aside the drapery, and we entered a large and exquisitely appointed room. The room was circular, and directly beneath the golden dome, which appeared transparent when looked at from the interior, and a flood of subdued light filled the place. A carpet, like the softest and daintiest of moss, with here and there a rosebud, a dandelion, a small bunch of violets, a few pansies, and many other delicate flowers, that looked so perfectly natural one was tempted to stoop and pick them, covered the floor. A large circular table, whose top was of pearl, stood in the center of the room, and elegant chairs, of various sizes and patterns, were scattered about: lastly, my eyes rested on a magnificent grand piano! The daintily tinted walls were adorned by many beautiful paintings, besides other pictures of various kinds; so beautiful were they that the finest works of art by the greatest masters on earth would appear mere daubs.

 

I hope my readers will not take exception to the piano, for all the angels in the olden heaven were said to have harps of gold on which they played, and as a piano is but an improved harp, please believe me when I tell you that all kinds of improvements are allowed within the spiritual heavens as well as on earths; in fact, that they first exist within the minds and homes of the spirits and angels, before they are handed down to earth, through the medium of men's and women's brains, by spiritual impression. Spirits and angels stamp or picture them upon sensitives who are still within mortality.

 

A beautiful young lady was seated at the piano, striking the keys softly with her dainty fingers, which filled the lofty room with enchantingly melodious sounds: she raised her large, blue eyes as we entered, and, rising with the sweetest of smiles, extended a lily hand to each of us.

 

"And this is your sister Mary, dear Annie?" she asked, looking at me.

 

"Yes," replied Annie, for they seemed to be well acquainted; "this is my dear sister Mary, whom I have brought here to be educated, as we all have been, and must be, before we can become wise, or do much good within the heavens or to the dwellers of earth. But Mary is a very sweet, apt pupil, who will not give you much trouble. I think she will be able to help around, and be of great service to the teachers, before many days have passed."

The beautiful young lady pressed her sweet lips to mine with a welcoming kiss, saying:

Yes; we greatly need all the assistance we can get: as our work extends before us for ever, dearest Mary, we may not be idle."

Annie now arose, saying:

"Mary, I must now leave you, and join my husband. My work is by his side, and one with his; but I will visit you shortly to see how you get along in the ways of wisdom."

She kissed me good-bye, and took her departure. A slight feeling of home-sickness passed over me, and I thought I should rather go with my sister than stay here. The young lady perceived my thought, and said:

"Annie must work on a higher plane than you are able to, at present, dear Mary. We all must commence with the first steps before we can reach the top of the golden stairs, and Annie began to climb those stairs many years ago, therefore her work cannot lie on the same plane as your own. But be patient, dear lady, and persevere; you will surely attain to great heights, and be happy in the ways of wisdom and love. Shall I play for you?

 

I assented, and she began to play some of the sweetest and most inspiring airs. My feeling of home-sickness vanished, hope and courage filled my soul. All at once, strange sounds broke upon my ears. Heart-rending and discordant shrieks resounded through the house. Muffled sounds and gurgling groans split the air. I started up, a great horror filling me.

 

"Oh! What is that?" I exclaimed. "It sounds as though murder were being committed!"

 

"And, probably, murder has been committed," she replied, rising with a graceful, benign air, and taking my hand.

 

"Oh! horrible!" I cried. It cannot be possible that murders are perpetrated in this beautiful building?"

She glanced at me surprisedly.

 

"Certainly not!" she said. "You forget, dear Mary, that a spirit cannot be killed."

 

Surely, so I had! But such awful sounds could mean nothing short of murder. Again the dreadful shrieks, the horrible groans, the stifled, gurgling sounds.

 

"Let us go and help," she said, drawing me gently along with her.

 

My first thoughts were, that I was expected to assist in committing a murder, for the frightful sounds had bewildered me. She drew me along through a corridor, toward a room which I intuitively knew the door of Error must lead into; she pushed aside the curtain, and we stood within the room. The stained door was open, and bloody marks were upon it; little pools of, fresh blood bedabbled the floor here and there, and the steps were also discolored as with footprints of blood. Everything swam before my eyes: I turned faint and sick with horror and fright.

 

"Mary," said the gentle voice of my companion, "don't give way to such feelings, for we need your assistance."

 

Her words brought back my failing courage, and I looked in the direction from whence the horrible sounds proceeded, and there, lying on a white bed all bedabbled with gore, was the writhing, shrieking form of a woman. Her face was contorted in agony, her eyes were glaring wildly, and she was clawing the air as though to ward off murderous blows. Two lovely young girls were standing a short distance away, their white garments all stained with blood, their forms swaying and drooping as though in grief, the tears rolling down their sweet, angelic cheeks. They looked up as we entered, and one of them said:

 

"She cannot see us yet; we must wait awhile."

 

"Who has committed this deed?" asked my companion.

 

"Her husband and our father," was the sorrowful reply; "and we have just borne her spirit hither. O mother, mother!"

 

One of them knelt by the bedside, and gently took the clawing hand within her own; the other daughter took fresh water, carefully wiped away the stains and marks about the door and steps, also from the floor of the room. The murdered woman's shrieks now grew less, her hands became quiet; the daughter who was kneeling by her side took fresh water, bathed the pale face and hands, then commenced to make gentle passes over the eyes; they gradually lost their terrified expression, the features became more calm, and at length a look of intelligence lighted up the countenance. The daughter, kneeling by the bedside, again called in gentle, loving tones:

 

"Mother! Mother!"

 

The other girl went to the opposite side of the bed, bending her sweet face above that of the prostrate murdered woman.

 

"Mother! Mother! Dearest mother," she softly called, "look at me, your own dear girl."

 

"Whist! Whist!" whispered the mother.

 

Is that you, me darlint, who calls? Me sweet gurl that died of want an' neglect, this two Year gone by? Och! Och! Thin Teddy has murthered me sure, an' ye are me blissid saints that wint to heaven before me. Och! Och an' Teddy will be hung, sure! Och! Och me throubles are more thin I kin bear! Sure, it was not Teddy, but the liquor that was in him, that murthered me!"