CHAPTER VIII.

A LESSON IN MIND STUDY.

The door of the cabin was open when I awoke, the sun shone brightly, and

my friend, apparently happy and unconcerned, said: "Father, we must soon

start on our journey; I have taken advantage of your refreshing sleep,

and have engaged breakfast at yonder farm-house; our meal awaits us."

I arose, washed my wrinkled face, combed my white hair, and shuddered as

I saw in a pocket mirror the reflection of my figure, an aged,

apparently decrepit man.

"Do not be disturbed at your feeble condition," said my companion; "your

infirmities are not real. Few men have ever been permitted to drink of

the richness of the revelations that await you; and in view of these

expectations the fact that you are prematurely aged in appearance should

not unnerve you. Be of good heart, and when you say the word, we will

start on our journey, which will begin as soon as you have said farewell

to former friends and acquaintances."

I made no reply, but silently accompanied him, for my thoughts were in

the past, and my reflections were far from pleasant.

We reached the farm-house, and as I observed the care and attention

extended me by the pleasant-faced housewife, I realized that, in one

respect at least, old age brought its compensation. After breakfast a

man appeared from the farmer's barn, driving a team of horses attached

to an open spring-wagon which, in obedience to the request of my guide,

I entered, accompanied by my young friend, who directed that we be

driven toward the village from which I had been abducted. He seemed to

know my past life as I knew it; he asked me to select those of my

friends to whom I first wished to bid farewell, even mentioning their

names; he seemed all that a patient, faithful son could be, and I began

to wonder at his audacity, even as much as I admired his

self-confidence.

As we journeyed onward we engaged in familiar talk. We sat together on

the back seat of the open spring-wagon, in full sight of passers, no

attempt being made to conceal my person. Thus we traveled for two days,

and on our course we passed through a large city with which I was

acquainted, a city that my abductors had previously carried me through

and beyond. I found that my "son" possessed fine conversational power,

and a rich mine of information, and he became increasingly interesting

as he drew from his fund of knowledge, and poured into my listening ears

an entrancing strain of historical and metaphysical information. Never

at a loss for a word or an idea, he appeared to discern my cogitations,

and as my mind wandered in this or that direction he fell into the

channel of my fancies, and answered my unspoken thoughts, my

mind-questions or meditations, as pertinently as though I had spoken

them.

His accomplishments, for the methods of his perception were

unaccompanied by any endeavor to draw me into word expression, made me

aware at least, that, in him, I had to deal with a man unquestionably

possessed of more than ordinary intellect and education, and as this

conviction entered my mind he changed his subject and promptly answered

the silent inquiry, speaking as follows:

"Have you not sometimes felt that in yourself there may exist

undeveloped senses that await an awakening touch to open to yourself a

new world, senses that may be fully developed, but which saturate each

other and neutralize themselves; quiescent, closed circles which you can

not reach, satisfied circuits slumbering within your body and that defy

your efforts to utilize them? In your dreams have you not seen sights

that words are inadequate to describe, that your faculties can not

retain in waking moments, and which dissolve into intangible

nothingness, leaving only a vague, shadowy outline as the mind quickens,

or rather when the senses that possess you in sleep relinquish the body

to the returning vital functions and spirit? This unconscious conception

of other planes, a beyond or betwixt, that is neither mental nor

material, neither here nor located elsewhere, belongs to humanity in

general, and is made evident from the unsatiable desire of men to pry

into phenomena latent or recondite that offer no apparent return to

humanity. This desire has given men the knowledge they now possess of

the sciences; sciences yet in their infancy. Study in this direction is,

at present, altogether of the material plane, but in time to come, men

will gain control of outlying senses which will enable them to step from

the seen into the consideration of matter or force that is now subtle

and evasive, which must be accomplished by means of the latent faculties

that I have indicated. There will be an unconscious development of new

mind-forces in the student of nature as the rudiments of these so-called

sciences are elaborated. Step by step, as the ages pass, the faculties

of men will, under progressive series of evolutions, imperceptibly pass

into higher phases until that which is even now possible with some

individuals of the purified esoteric school, but which would seem

miraculous if practiced openly at this day, will prove feasible to

humanity generally and be found in exact accord with natural laws. The

conversational method of men, whereby communion between human beings is

carried on by disturbing the air by means of vocal organs so as to

produce mechanical pulsations of that medium, is crude in the extreme.

Mind craves to meet mind, but can not yet thrust matter aside, and in

order to communicate one with another, the impression one mind wishes to

convey to another must be first made on the brain matter that

accompanies it, which in turn influences the organs of speech, inducing

a disturbance of the air by the motions of the vocal organs, which, by

undulations that reach to another being, act on his ear, and secondarily

on the earthly matter of his brain, and finally by this roundabout

course, impress the second being's mind. In this transmission of motions

there is great waste of energy and loss of time, but such methods are a

necessity of the present slow, much-obstructed method of communication.

There is, in cultivated man, an innate craving for something more

facile, and often a partly developed conception, spectral and vague,

appears, and the being feels that there may be for mortals a richer,

brighter life, a higher earthly existence that science does not now

indicate. Such intimation of a deeper play of faculties is now most

vivid with men during the perfect loss of mental self as experienced in

dreams, which as yet man in the quick can not grasp, and which fade as

he awakens. As mental sciences are developed, investigators will find

that the medium known as air is unnecessary as a means of conveying

mind conceptions from one person to another; that material sounds and

word pulsations are cumbersome; that thought force unexpressed may be

used to accomplish more than speech can do, and that physical exertions

as exemplified in motion of matter such as I have described will be

unnecessary for mental communication. As door after door in these

directions shall open before men, mystery after mystery will be

disclosed, and vanish as mysteries to reappear as simple facts.

Phenomena that are impossible and unrevealed to the scientist of to-day

will be familiar to the coming multitude, and at last, as by degrees,

clearer knowledge is evolved, the vocal language of men will disappear,

and humanity, regardless of nationality, will, in silence and even in

darkness, converse eloquently together in mind language. That which is

now esoteric will become exoteric. Then mind will meet mind as my mind

now impinges on your own, and, in reply to your unuttered question

regarding my apparently unaccountable powers of perception, I say they

are perfectly natural, but while I can read your thoughts, because of

the fact that you can not reciprocate in this direction, I must use my

voice to impress your mind. You will know more of this, however, at a

future day, for it has been ordained that you are to be educated with an

object that is now concealed. At present you are interested mainly in

the affairs of life as you know them, and can not enter into these purer

spheres. We are approaching one of your former friends, and it may be

your pleasure to ask him some questions and to bid him farewell."

Etidorhpa; or, The End of Earth. The Strange History of a Mysterious Being and the Account of a Remarkable Journey · 第 8 / 52 章