第 35 页

spirit, "for the reward in the resurrection morning will vastly

exceed all your labours now.

"O, my friends," the spirit continued most earnestly, addressing

the three, "are you prepared for your death-beds? When your eyes

glaze in their last sleep, and you lose that temporal world and

what you perhaps considered all, as in a haze, your dim vision

will then be displaced by the true creation that will be eternal.

Your unattained ambitions, your hopes, and your ideals will be

swallowed in the grave. Your works will secure you a place in

history, and many will remember your names until, in time,

oblivion covers your memory as the grass conceals your tombs.

Are you prepared for the time when your eyes become blind, and

your trusted senses fail? Your sorrowing friends will mourn, and

the flags of your clubs will fly at half-mast, but no earthly

thing can help you then. In what condition will the resurrection

morning find you, when your sins of neglect and commission plead

for vengeance, as Abel's blood from the ground? After that there

can be no change. The classification, as I have already told

you, is now going on; it will then be finished."

"We are the most utterly wretched sinners!" cried Ayrault. "Show

us how we can be saved."

"As an inhabitant of spirit-land, I will give you worldly

counsel," replied the bishop. "During my earthly administration,

as I told you, people came from far to hear me preach. This was

because I had eloquence and earnestness, both gifts of God. But

I was a miserably weak sinner myself. That which I would, I did

not, and that which I would not that I did; and I often prayed my

congregation to follow my sermons rather than my ways. I seemed

to do my followers good, and Daniel thus commends my way in his

last chapter: 'They that turn many to righteousness shall shine

as the stars forever and ever,' and the explanation is clear.

There is no surer way of learning than trying to teach. In

teaching my several flocks I was also improved myself. I was

sown in weakness, but was raised in power, strength being made

perfect in weakness. Therefore improve your fellows, though

yourself you cannot raise. The knowledge that you have sent many

souls to heaven, though you are yourself a castaway, will give

you unspeakable joy, and place you in heaven wherever you may be.

Yet remember this: none of us can win heaven; salvation is the

gift of God. I have said as much now as you can remember.

Farewell. Improve time while you can. Fear God and keep His

commandments. This is the whole duty of man."

So saying, the spirit vanished in a cloud that for a

time emitted light.

"I am not surprised," said Bearwarden, "that people took long

journeys to hear him. I would do so myself."

"I have never had much fear of death," said Cortlandt, "but the

mere thought of it now makes my knees shake, and fills my heart

with dread. I thought I saw the most hateful forms about my

coffin, and imagined that they might be the personification of

doubt, coldness, and my other shortcomings, which had come

perhaps from sympathy, in invisible form. I was almost afraid to

ask the spirit for the explanation."

"I saw them also," replied Bearwarden, "but took them to be

swarms of microbes waiting to destroy your body, or perhaps

trying in vain to penetrate your hermetically sealed coffin."

Cortlandt seemed much upset, and spent the rest of the day in

writing out the facts and trying to assign a cause. Towards

evening Bearwarden, who had recovered his spirits, prepared

supper, after which they sat in the entrance to the cave.

CHAPTER X.

AYRAULT.

As the, night became darker they caught sight of the earth again,

shining very faintly, and in his mind's eye Ayrault saw his

sweetheart, and the old, old repining that, since reason and love

began, has been in men's minds, came upon him and almost crushed

him. Without saying anything to his companions, Ayrault left the

cave, and, passing through the grove in which the spirit had paid

them his second visit, went slowly to the top of the hill about

half a mile off, that he might the more easily gaze at the faint

star on which he could picture Sylvia.

"Ah!" he said to himself, on reaching the summit, "I will stay

here till the earth rises higher, and when it is far above me I

will gaze at it as at heaven."

Accordingly, he lay down with his head on a mound of sod, and

watched the familiar planet.

"We were born too soon," he soliloquized; "for had Sylvia and I

but lived in the spiritual age foretold by the bishop, we might

have held communion, while now our spirits, no matter how much in

love, are separated absolutely by a mere matter of distance. It

is a mockery to see Sylvia's dwelling-place, and feel that she is

beyond my vision. O that, in the absence of something better, my

poor imperfect eyes could be transformed into those of an eagle,

but with a million times the power! for though I know that with

these senses I shall see the resurrection, and hear the last

trump, that is but prospective, while now is the time I long for

sight."

On the plain he had left he saw his friends' camp-fire, while on

the other side of his elevation was a valley in which the insects

chirped sharply, and through which ran a stream. Feeling a

desire for solitude and to be as far removed as possible, he

arose and descended towards the water. Though the autumn, where

they found themselves, was well advanced, this night was warm,

and the rings formed a great arch above his head. Near the

stream the frogs croaked happily, as if unmindful of the long

very long Saturnian winter; for though they were removed but

about ten degrees from the equator, the sun was so remote and the

axis of the planet so inclined that it was unlikely these

individual frogs would see another summer, though they might live

again, in a sense, in their descendants. The insects also would

soon be frozen and stiff, and the tall, graceful lilies that

still clung to life would be withered and dead. The trees, as if

weeping at the evanescence of the life around them, shed their

leaves at the faintest breeze. These fluttered to the ground,

or, falling into the tranquil stream, were carried away by it,

and passed from sight. Ayrault stood musing and regretting the

necessity of such general death. "But," he thought, "I would

rather die than lose my love; for then I should have had the

taste of bliss without its fulfilment, and should be worse off

than dead. Love gilds the commonplace, and deifies all it

touches. Love survives the winter, and in my present frame of

mind I should prefer earth and cold with it to heaven and spring.

Oh, why is my soul so clogged by my body?"

A pillar of stone standing near him was suddenly shattered, and

the bishop stood where it had been.

"Because," said the spirit, answering his thought, "it has not

yet power to be free."

"Can a man's soul not rise till his body is dead? asked Ayrault.

The spirit hesitated.

"Oh, tell me," pleaded Ayrault. "If I could see the girl to whom

I am engaged, for but a moment, could be convinced that she loves

me still, my mind would be at rest. Free my soul or spirit, or

whatever it is, from this body, that I may traverse intervening

space and be with her."

"You will discover the way for yourself in time," said the spirit.

"I know I shall at the last day, in the resurrection, when I am

no longer in the flesh. Then I shall have no need of your aid;

for we, know that in the resurrection they neither marry nor are

given in marriage, but are like the angels of God in heaven. It

is while I am mortal, and love as mortals do, that I wish to see

my promised bride. A spirit may have other joys, and perhaps

higher; but you who have lived in the world and loved, show me

that which is now my heart's desire. You have shown us the tomb

in which Cortlandt will lie buried; now help me to go to one who

is still alive."

"I pray that God will grant you this," said the spirit, "and make

me His instrument, for I see the depth of your distress." Saying

which, he vanished, leaving no trace in his departure except that

the pillar of stone returned to its place.

With this rather vague hope, Ayrault set off to rejoin his

companions, for he felt the need of human sympathy. Saturn's

rapid rotation had brought the earth almost to the zenith, the

little point shining with the unmistakably steady ray of a

planet. Huge bats fluttered about him, and the great

cloud-masses swept across the sky, being part of Saturn's

ceaseless whirl. He found he was in a hypnotic or spiritualistic

state, for it was not necessary for him to have his eyes open to

know where he was. In passing one of the pools they had noticed,

he observed that the upper and previously invisible liquid had

the bright colour of gold, and about it rested a group of figures

enveloped in light.

"Why do you look so sad?" they asked. "You are in that abode of

departed spirits known as paradise, and should be happy."

"I suppose I should be happy, were I here as you are, as the

reward of merit," he replied. "But I am still in the flesh, and

as such am subject to its cares."

"You are about to have an experience," said another speaker.

"This day your doubts will be at rest, for before another sunset

you will know more of the woman you love."

The intensity of the spiritualistic influence here somewhat

weakened, for he partially lost sight of the luminous figures,

and could no longer hear what they said. His heart was in his

mouth as he walked, and he felt like a man about to set out on

his honeymoon, or like a bride who knows not whether to laugh or

to cry. An indescribable exhilaration was constantly present.

"I wonder," thought he, "if a caterpillar has these sensations

before becoming a butterfly? Though I return to the rock from

which I sprang, I believe I shall be with Sylvia to-day."

Footprints formed in the soft ground all around him, and the air

was filled with spots of phosphorescent light that coincided with

the relative positions of the brains, hearts, and eyes of human

beings. These surrounded and often preceded him, as though

leading him on, while the most heavenly anthems filled the air

and the vault of the sky.

"I believe," he thought, with bounding heart, "that I shall be

initiated into the mysteries of space this night."

At times he could hear even the words of the choruses ringing in

his ears, though at others he thought the effect was altogether

in his mind.

"Oh, for a proof," he prayed, "that no sane man can doubt! My

faith is implicit in the bishop and the vision, and I feel that

in some way I shall return to earth ere the close of another day,

for I know I am awake, and that this is no dream."

A fire burned in the mouth of the cave, within which Bearwarden

and Cortlandt lay sleeping. The specks of mica in the rocks

reflected its light, but in addition to this a diffused

phosphorescence filled the place, and the large sod-covered

stones they used for pillows emitted purple and dark red flames.

"Is that you, Dick?" asked Bearwarden, awaking and groping about.

"We built up the fire so that you should find the camp, but it

seems to have gone down." Saying which, he struck a match,

whereupon Ayrault ceased to see the phosphorescence or bluish

light. At that moment a peal of thunder awakened Cortlandt, who

sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I think," said Ayrault, "I will go to the Callisto and get our

mackintoshes before the rain sets in." Whereupon he left his

companions, who were soon again fast asleep.

The sky had suddenly become filled with clouds, and Ayrault

hastened towards the Callisto, intending to remain there, if

necessary, until the storm was over. For about twenty minutes he

hurried on through the growing darkness, stopping once on high

ground to make sure of his bearings, and he had covered more than

half the distance when the rain came on in a flood, accompanied

by brilliant lightning. Seeing the huge, hollow trunk of a

fallen tree near, and not wishing to be wet through, Ayrault

fired several solid shots from his revolver into the cavity, to

drive out any wild animals there might be inside, and then

hurriedly crawled in, feet first. He next drew in his head, and

was congratulating himself on his snug retreat, when the sky

became lurid with a flash of lightning, then his head dropped

forward, and he was unconscious.

CHAPTER XI.

DREAMLAND TO SHADOWLAND.

As Ayrault's consciousness returned, he fancied he heard music.

Though distant, it was distinct, and seemed to ring from the

ether of space. Occasionally it sounded even more remote, but it

was rhythmical and continuous, inspiring and stirring him as

nothing that he had ever heard before. Finally, it was overcome

by the more vivid impressions upon his other senses, and he found

himself walking in the streets of his native city. It was

spring, and the trees were white with buds. The long shadows of

the late afternoon stretched across the way, but the clear sky

gave indication of prolonged twilight, and the air was warm and

balmy. Nature was filled with life, and seemed to be proclaiming

that the cold was past.

As he moved along the street he met a funeral procession.

"What a pity," he thought, "a man should die, with summer so near

at hand!"

He was also surprised at the keenness of his sight; for, inclosed

in each man's body, he saw the outline of his soul. But the dead