"Good is the word signifying good in the place, for the purpose the strengths were given; good in a sense as gold is evolved from the activities as given being in the organic forces. 'Be on a guard,' the teachers also say, 'lest ye fall into error and say, "I am holier than thou!" for the sin of vain glorying is great, and home-powers do lay bare the forms, and the one skeleton frame is seen.' 'Do not place a false light in the window to the undoing of any,' is written in bold characters and placed over the doors of the schoolrooms where the lives do assemble to know of the laws. One Grand Master of the loves doth take a mantle of starry excellence and place over the form of him who hath stood and loved to say: 'I die to all selfishness of life.' A robe of white, surmounted with gold, is placed on the form who is able to stand in divine charities with the people."

It is the constant effort and aspiration of our brother to reach that degree of love which Jesus actualized: "Whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and mother." Beyond the family circle, beyond church, sect, party, or nationality, he extends his spiritual fellowship. Visiting his native home in Vermont,- that old framed house, that running brook, that forest and rocky height, where the silver cord of life first pulsed the latent music of his soul, he mused and dreamed awake, and penned the poesy of his thought thus:

"To-day I sit 'neath the paternal roof, and, in shadowy memories and quickly shifting kaleidoscopic presentations, relive the past, all gemmed in those earlier years with the dewy freshness of childhood's sunny morning. How mystic life's web! How strange the voyage, freighted with flowers and thorns, smiles and tears, defeats and victories, making it rich in experiences! A divinity truly shapes our ends,' a certain destiny overshadows each of us, and fate proves to be a mighty wrestler. The pathway may be crimsoned with bleeding feet, or baptized in tides of tears: yet beyond this mortal realm the star of eve shines, and the Queen of Morn' pours forth celestial harmonies, making music over all the starry floor;' and

there earth's divinest ideals become the soul's eternal realities.

.

"Oh, how many pleasant associations cluster around that word mother! Someone has said that 'mother, home, and heaven' are the most beautiful words in the English language. I almost venerate my parents."

The Mohammedan, though having several wives, buries his mother's body next to his own. Asked why, he replies, "I can have many wives, but I can have only one mother." Mr. Peebles almost worshiped his mother. She was for many years the center of his home life. A few years after her transition, while meditating in a leafy grove, and repeating the following rhymes of the poet, he clairaudiently heard her voice:

"Is there no grand, immortal sphere

Beyond this realm of broken ties,
To fill the wants that mock us here,
And dry the tears from weeping eyes,
Where Winter melts in endless Spring,
And June stands near with deathless flowers,
Where we may hear the dear ones sing

Who loved us in this world of ours?

I ask, and lo! my cheeks are wet

With tears for one I can not see

O mother, art thou living yet,

And dost thou still remember me?

"The Springtime bloom; the Summers fade,
The Winters blow along my way;

But over every light and shade

Thy memory lives by night and day.
It soothes to sleep my wildest pain,
Like sweet song that can not die,
And, like the murmur of the main,
Grows deeper when the storm is nigh.
I know the brighest stars that set,
Return to bless the yearning sea;
But mother, art thou living yet,

And dost thou still remember me?

"I sometimes think thy soul comes back
From o'er the dark and silent stream,
Where last we watched thy shining track
To those green hills of which we dream:
Thy loving arms around me twine,

My cheeks grow younger in thy breath,
Till thou art mine, and I am thine,
Without a thought of pain or death:
And yet, at times mine eyes are wet
With tears for her I can not see,
O mother, are thou living yet,

And dost thou still remember me?"

"Yes, my son,” she whispered in this leafy grove of oak and elm, "I am living yet, and still remember you. Can a mother forget her firstborn? Memory is unfading, and pure love is unending." Continuing in a soft, tender, lute-like voice, she added: "What you in earth-lands call death, we call birth into the spirit-lands of immortality. Words fail to express the beauty of this realm of blessedness. renewed, and the lost of earth are found. Continue your pilgrimage in faith and trust. your appointed labors, and when they are done, and the silver cord of life is loosed, then, with other loving souls, I shall meet you and lovingly greet you at your coming."

Youth is here Have no fears. Weary not in

XXI

THE HOMES OF ASCENDED TEACHERS

"I think of that city; for oh! how oft

My heart has been wrung at parting
With friends all pale, who with footfalls soft
To its airy heights were starting!

I see them again in their raiments white,
In the blue, blue distance dwelling;
And I hear their praises in calm delight
Come down, on the breezes swelling,
As I dream of the city I have not seen,

Where the feet of mortals have never been."

- Emma Tuttle.

Being himself but partially open to the influx of the spirit world, Mr. Peebles's chief means of intelligent converse with his arisen teachers was for a number of years

through his

trusted medium, Dr. Dunn. At one time he expressed an eager wish that his medium might visit the homes of the apostles especially that of the beloved John.

"Comply, then, with conditions," replied Aaron: “temperance in all things, fasting, prayer, and purity. Close your eyes to the unclean things of the outer world and enter into silent communion with our heavenly society."

In due time, obeying the request, the medium became deeply entranced, the body seemingly dead and pulseless. There was a momentary blank, and then he found himself standing beside his body, a very spirit, clothed in ethereal garments, when his guide appearing, said, "Now you will accompany us." They went in a southeasterly direction, and at length reached a real world of busy populations. The inhabitants seemed industrious, beautiful, and happy. Charmed and electrified with the scenes that spread out on every hand, he arrived safe

and invigorated at the residence of Aaron Nite, where he was required to change his garments and don something still more ethereal. Properly vestured, they ascended, leaving the aural belts that encompass the earth and traversing vast spaces to the southward, they at length approached a magnificent island that seemed to float on a sapphire sea.

"I will go with these four spirits," said the guide, "whilst the rest of our circle will have to return. You, dear brother, could not advance one step with us, did we not weave around you our aura. Guard well thy mediumship, if thou wouldst behold the glories to come!"

Taking the medium's hand, they passed over stretches of celestial scenery which no earth language is adequate to depict. Reaching a fountain whose lovely borders were adorned with sensitive flowers, the medium was herein baptized, and a sister spirit gave him nectar to drink, which inspired a hallowed feeling.

"Be calm, now," said the guide, "for we are approaching the sphere celestial of that immortal teacher for whom we have the most profound reverence. But here we must leave you,

and other guides will take you in charge."

Six spirits now appeared, led by "Queen of the Morn," all clothed in spotless glistening white, having golden girdles clasping their robes. They enveloped the medium in a soft electric light, which likewise took the form of a "white vesture" like their own. They now approached the center of this isle of beauty, and just beyond the margin of placid waters they beheld a grand and imposing temple. The central structure was circular, while the height was beautifully proportioned to the base. Around the interior circular wall were balconies that reached to the very dome. A door opening, they entered and were greeted by a teacher of music, who was surrounded with musical instruments of strange construction. Ascending a spiral stairway they entered a capacious room, under the dome, where a circular library was poised on a pivot, the volumes of which were replete with the condensed wisdom of the ages. The doors and windows were arched. Oval