"Brother, thou pilgrim on earth's stormy shores,
Thou who hast traversed all the lands between
The distant East, where deserts' burning sands
Pour their full tide of splendor sent from Heaven,
To where the gorgeous Occident doth lay

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Its full, rich offerings of burnished gold
Upon the purple earth; surpassing rare
And all untold are splendors that are given
In this your mortal birth.

Thy pathway has been traced. Ere childhood's day
Had passed was thy whole life foreseen, and one
Had marked thy toilsome way; where'er thy feet
Weary and sometimes faltering may have been,
The angels guided thee, led thee alway.
Not for the purposes of human fame,
Nor for the paltry power which wealth can give;
Not to emblazon with the pride of name

Thy deeds on palace gates (true fame shall live
While ages pass) — no, not for these thy bark
Has been storm-tossed on many distant seas,
Thy weary footsteps trod o'er desert waste
And burning sands, and mountain's barren face.
No, not for these. Behold our offering:

The

gorgeous gateways of the purple east Open their splendors to the day's clear eye, And earth, expectant for the morning feast, Beholds her god when the bright sun on high Bids from his victor path the misty shadows fly.

The Brahmin's unseen God defics the power

Of modern sophistry and ancient lore;
But in that solemn and most sacred hour,

When that Dread Presence did its offerings pour
Upon the earth, God spake as erst before.

"Egypt's vast pyramids uplift their brows

Against the heaven Osiris calls his own;
The veiled Isis breathes her vestal vows;
The Sphynx reveals to oracles unknown
The wondrous secrets of the heavenly zone.

"Jerusalem, lost city of my ove!

Thou who dost sit alone and desolate, Waiting erewhile the heaven-appointed dove That shall upbuild again thy fallen state, What dread Nemesis doth thine hour belate?

"Or where the Mount of Olives lifts its brow

Anear the bending sky and breathes of peace! Oh! even there Christ's self appeareth now The weary spirits once more to release, And bid all raging tumults cease.

"Beyond the pillared Gates of Hercules

Thy bark has passed once more toward thy home Amid the glowing far Hesperides

Thou turn'st again; once more they bid thee 'Come,'
And claim thee that thy feet no more may roam.

"Around the fireside, by the home-fraught hearth,
Sweet smiles and hands of friendship beckon thee;
And once again bright thoughts of purest worth
Rise like calm angels, glad and strong and free,
And with white lilies wait to welcome thee.

"And thou shalt write! Behold, we bring a pen

Dipped in the burning flame of East and West!
Go, trace the lessons thou hast learned, and when
At last, with waiting worn, thou long'st for rest,
Sink, body, sink to sleep on earth's fair breast.

'Then, lo! the gates of heaven shall open wide,
And vistas of rare glory meet thy view,
The gold-crowned mountains ranged on either side,
The morn of knowledge, ever bright and new,
Shall dawn, and love shall safely bear thee through.

"Then no frail form nor fading sense shall pale;

No weary struggling through the patient years; But courage, life, and strength that ne'er shall fail, And hopes that perish not, nor melt in tears. Receive the pen, go, wear the laurel crown; One is of earth the other Heaven's renown!" - Cora L. V. Richmond.

XLIII

APR 1903

LIBRARY

RECENT LABORS IN THE SPIRITUAL VINEYARD

"Proud is the nation that can own

Thy treasured name, on memory's page;

A light in darkness it shall be,
Forever, down each coming age;

Proud that thou wert our own, a while,

Ere thy bark reached 'The Utmost Isle.'"

Having returned from his Oriental travels to his San Diego home, in the late summer of 1897, with his vigor and ambition in no wise abated, Dr. Peebles commenced to plan a series of labors which demanded his immediate attention. His medical business in Indianapolis had sensibly declined during his absence. He must put his hand on a few levers, and give a new impulse to the business machinery, which quickly responded to his magnetic presence and personal force. His new book of travels, too, was announced to appear in autumn, and several hundred pages of the manuscript still remained to be written from his extended notes. And last, but not least, his beloved Spiritualism was being fiercely assailed by his old polemical enemies, the clergy. So notwithstanding the press of other labors, he found time to meet gentlemen of the "cloth" with a strong pamphlet, and during the autumn months contributed a series of characteristic articles to the Spiritualistic press.

From Sept. 9 to 12, 1897, there was convened at Anderson, Ind., a national Anti-Spiritualist Convention, to which the clergy flocked in strong force. Spiritualism was to receive its "death blow!" Our indefatigable Doctor and Moses Hull attended to see that everything should be done "decently," and in order. But the ambassadors for Christ" were fully resolved to do the "claying" in their own

way and without interference. So our brave defenders were compelled to sit still and see whole battalions

men of straw

army.

fall before the fusillade of the clerical The "show" was attended on Thursday, Dr. Peebles wrote it up on Friday, had it printed on Saturday, and on Sunday it was freely distributed among the people. We append one or two extracts:

"Where there is no vision," say the Scriptures, "the people perish." Do you, beloved brethren, have visions? If not, is it not one reason why our churches are so empty on Sundays? Paul declared that he " was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." Signs, trances, visions, clairvoyance, and the "discerning of spirits" accompanied the apostles, disciples and primitive Christians for three hundred years after Christ. Then there came a "falling away" of Christianity. It became political, commercial, worldly, creed-encrusted — in a word, unspiritual. And you Christians, because of your schisms, sectarian creeds and scheming worldliness have lost the gifts of the spirit spiritual manifestations; and you seem to be mad because Spiritualists, or anybody else have these gifts, and hence the inauguration of this unchristian "anti-spiritualistic" movement.

"If a personal devil exists, and is rapidly converting so many millions, and among them multitudes of Christians, to Spiritualism, as the Rev. Mr. Hagaman admitted-if he is roaming about ruining souls, why doesn't God kill him at once? An all-powerful omnipotent God can destroy the devil, but will not; or he would destroy the devil but can not! How is it brethren? I see no use in the world for the devil, do you? Preaching him does not scare people as it once did, and neither does the preaching of hell. In the revised version Hell is polished down to Hades. Another word renderedHell is Gehenna, the Valley of Hinnom, originally just outside the walls of Jerusalem, where the worm should never die, nor the fires of Hell be quenched. But the worm has died and the fires of Hell have been quenched (Mark 9:43,

44, 45), and I saw vegetation and vines growing there luxuriantly in this valley called Hell in the New Testament. Later in the season I plucked and ate most delicious grapes in Gehenna, this Hell mentioned in Mark's Gospel. Think of it brethren, clusters of luscious grapes growing in Hell! Let us now sing:

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Oh! what would it be to be there "

In the fruit season?

The poet must have just returned home from this Convention when he wrote his reflections on the "New Journalism: "

Sixty-nine pages of rubbish,
Twenty-two pages of rot,
Forty-six pages of scandal vile,
Served to us piping hot.

"Seventeen hundred pictures—
Death, disease, and despair-
Lies and fakes and fakes and lies
Stuck in 'most everywhere.

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Thirty-four sad comic pages,

Printed in reds, greens, and blues;
Thousands of items we don't care to read
But only two columns of news."

While lecturing in Melbourne - May, 1897-a certain member of the clergy came out in a bitter attack on Dr. Peebles through the Melbourne Herald. His reply shows what a rare old fighter he is,- this genial mild-mannered man, who would at all hazards shrink from the job of killing a chicken! We can only give a few extracts from his caustic reply:"O. D. C. believes in Spiritism,' but declares that it is of the devil.' How does he know? What does he know about the devil, anyhow? Does a semi-omnipotent devil really exist? If so, who created him? Admitting his existence, his industry is certainly very commendable. And if he exists, why does not God, who is omniscient and almighty,