PLACES I HAVE SEEN.
You have heard of Zencollia City, with its peaceful homes and stately
temples. Let me now speak to you of that sweet, blooming, delightful
Spring Garden City, where the good, the beautiful, and the noble gather
together to engage in works of love for humanity. It is impossible for
you of earth to conceive of the magnitude and extent of this spirit
city, which seems almost boundless in width and length.
The habitations are of various hues and textures; many of them standing
in the midst of luxuriant groves, where the branches of stately trees
cast a pleasant shade, and where birds make music all the sunny day; or
in the center of blooming gardens, where parterres of beautiful flowers
make the balmy air redolent with perfume and the landscape to glow with
beauty.
These habitations, built as they may be of spotless, alabaster-like
stone, marble, or a particular kind of variegated stone, peculiar to
this place, which seems almost translucent, as it gleams in rainbow
colors beneath the shining sun, are all furnished and adorned with soft,
velvet-like draperies, snowy hangings, pure white tables and seats,
beautiful, life-like pictures, ivory statuary, and hanging baskets of
flowering plants, and present a picture of home-like comfort and
hospitality.
Many of the houses are open at the sides, the ceilings being supported
by exquisitely carved columns of stone, around which emerald vines,
laden with fragrant flowers, climb and cluster; and the passer-by can
note the appearance of purity, peace, and comfort within.
THE PEOPLE OF SPRING GARDEN CITY.
The inhabitants of this celestial city are ever busy, either devising
some new method of aiding and assisting the distressed, attending some
of its many schools of instruction, its halls of music and literature,
or working together in bands to elevate and instruct needy souls upon
earth, or in the lower realms of spirit life.
These spirit people dress simply and naturally, in flowing robes, of any
color which most harmonizes with their interior condition; they are all
beautiful, a light radiating from each countenance, an expression of
peace and contentment upon each face, and a smile upon the lips; all of
which beautify the features and cast a halo of brilliancy around the
form.
Beautiful groves, watered by running streams, shaded by lofty trees, and
made charming by banks of velvety moss, starred with fragrant blossoms,
are seen in the midst of this city of souls; and in these spots beneath
the blue canopy of the sky, inhaling the perfumed invigorating air, many
spirits daily congregate to listen to words of advice, instruction, and
wisdom from inspired lips. And from these places the inhabitants of
Spring Garden City go forth to their homes, exalted in spirit, or come
down to mortals who dwell in sorrow, and shed over them the divine
influence caught from higher scenes, which uplifts and strengthens the
struggling ones below.
CHILDREN’S LYCEUM.
In the center of one of the largest, most beautiful groves, where
rippling waters, breezes swaying the leafy branches of the trees, and
the song of birds send a constant stream of melody through the air, made
fragrant by odorous flowers, a stately temple stands. It is of burnished
silver, which flashes and glows in the light of the sun. Within, its
walls are hung with landscape paintings, and draperies of azure satin.
The floor is of white marble, and the spotless ceiling is frescoed with
paintings of marvelous beauty.
Here the spiritual lyceum of Spring Garden City daily convenes its
sessions, where spirit children are taught the duties and the lessons of
life. Some of the most exalted and brilliant souls resident in that city
are teachers and guardians in this school, and it is their delight to so
cultivate and train the young minds under their charge that only the
beautiful attributes of the soul will grow, and the selfishness of life
shall be eradicated. And it is because of the instruction and
development received in such schools as this that little children can so
readily return to earth, and bless and comfort weeping mortals with
their sweet words of sympathy and love.
HARMONIAL CITY.
Harmonial City is a broad, beautiful, extensive city of the spirit
world. Its streets are literally shining, broad and straight, paved with
blocks of cool, white stone of great purity, and lined on either side
with beautiful, fragrant flowers.
In the center of each street, a fountain constructed of a material
resembling silver, carved in the most wondrous designs, sends forth jets
of crystal water, which rise in fan-like shapes and fall again in
gleaming sprays upon the beds of flowers blooming at the fountain’s
base, whence a cloud of sweet perfume rises to scent the balmy air.
At regular intervals, in this city of the spirits, beautiful parks are
laid out, abounding in all the natural beauty of flowers, trees,
shrubbery and water, serving to delight the eye and calm the senses of
the soul.
The habitations of this city of harmony are formed or fashioned of
various substances, each dweller building his mansion to suit himself;
hence we observe the tiny, white vine-embowered cottage, with its
surrounding flower garden, side by side with the stately mansion,
environed with smooth walks and velvety lawns.
The inhabitants of this place are particularly sympathetic and
harmonious; they are at peace with all the world and their own souls;
they take no active part in the turmoils and strifes of others; they do
not commune with earth save only as they transmit their messages through
spirit intelligences below them.
Here are grand and massive temples, more richly draped and ornamented
than any I have elsewhere seen; temples dedicated to Poesy, Music,
Literature, and Philosophy. Here the active, critical, keen-searching
scientist is not at home; but the musician, the poet, the philosopher,
and the idealist find a heaven.
The poetry that delights the soul of the bard is here breathed forth
through flower and streamlet; all the surroundings seem made up of
poetry, so fragrant, sweet, and subtle is the calm, beautiful life we
behold in this wonderful city. Well may it be named Harmonial City; for
its very atmosphere, its pretty homes, its adornments, and the features
and forms of its inhabitants, all breathe of harmony and peace. The
dwellers within this city I am told seem not so much like members of one
family, as parts of one healthy body, each performing its function and
duty, the whole harmoniously blending in one form of symmetry and
beauty; and I can well believe this, from what I have seen of them.
In this city, musicians, poets, artists, and
idealists—transcendentalists, if you will—love to congregate in their
respective temples, which are ever open to all who wish to enter, and by
contact with each others’ minds throw off new strains of harmony in
verse, outline some new work of beauty, develop some beautiful idea, or
evoke a new melody of the spheres. And from these master-souls beautiful
ideas, melodies, and ideals come floating down to earth. Transmitted
through the atmosphere below, they eventually awaken an echo in the
heart of some aspiring soul,—when, lo, a new poem, a new strain of
melody, a new harmonious thought, is given to the world.
It has been my good fortune to visit once or twice this wonderful City
of Harmony, and ever after my mind has possessed a new and beautiful
picture to hang upon the snowy walls of memory,—a picture of
harmoniously blended tints, of flowery beds, of sunny fountains, of
massive temples, crowded with faces from which all trace of passion hath
forever vanished, and which bear only the impress of ineffable peace;
where harmony is the life of the spirit, and melody runs like a liquid
stream through all the sunny days.
A MAGNIFICENT TEMPLE.
Imagine, if you can, a magnificent temple built of a kind of white
translucent stone, which, as the sunlight falls upon it, glows and
sparkles with the bright, prismatic hues of the rainbow; imagine this
temple to be so vast and spacious in its dimensions that its brilliant
dome seems to pierce the snowy clouds, while in length it extends as far
as the eye can reach; imagine delicate vines, wreaths and pictures
carved exquisitely upon the outer walls of this building, while a
magnificent garden, blooming in the rich luxuriance of summer, surrounds
it on every side; and after you have imagined all this, you will have a
faint idea of that massive temple of Harmonial City, in which artists of
every grade congregate to pursue their favorite studies.
The interior of this splendid palace is hung with richest drapery, and
adorned with rarest works of art, creations of those artist-spirits who
delight to give outward expression to the ideals of beauty within their
souls.
Mortal eyes have never witnessed such forms of skillful beauteous art,
so life-like in every sense, so soul-thrilling, as are gathered here.
Mortal ears fail to catch the celestial tones of harmony, the divine
notes of melody, that are uttered here by spirits who appear to be all
music, all harmony.
The interior of this beautiful building is divided into four spacious
compartments, with one vast hall over all.
The lower halls are devoted to sculpture, painting, music, and poetry.
Each one is fitted up grandly, hung with shimmering drapery, and adorned
with forms of peerless beauty. Here the student lingers, his soul
entranced with the glory of his work, his being illuminated with the
divine inspiration he gathers.
The whole edifice, with its splendid appointments, is like a divine
poem, a completed strain of harmony, a perfect picture, or a finished
statue of grace and symmetry; and the forms and faces of the masters who
dispense instruction to the student give glory and benignity to the
whole.
The vast hall above is the most beautiful place I have ever seen—paved
with white and gold, the walls hung with exquisite paintings, adorned
with gleaming statuary, save here and there where openings admit the
balmy, perfumed air; the ceiling of white and azure, gemmed with golden
stars; the shining fountains on the floor, which send up sprays of
crystal water, the baskets of richly-blooming flowers, swinging here and
there; the grand stands of shining gold, where the favored children of
genius gather; the silken couches and dais for the visiting company—all
present a scene of richness and beauty difficult to be described.
In this place grand entertainments are given, to which the denizens of
the city and elsewhere are admitted, to feast the intellect upon the
wondrous creations of artist, poet, sculptor, and musician, and to
listen to instructive lectures upon the arts. And it is indeed a feast
to the soul to attend one of these receptions; it is an experience which
draws the spirit upward, and elevates it into a purer, more refined
condition; for purity and goodness are the themes of the artist’s
inspiration, and love broods over all, manifested in the desire to
instruct and bless every life. This is one of the largest temples I have
ever seen, although many smaller ones, erected for like purposes, are
scattered throughout the higher spheres of spirit life.
CITY OF JOY.
There is a beautiful little city in the Summer-Land, which, situated
between rising hills of ever-glowing verdure, presents an appearance of
restful tranquillity and harmonious peace. Its name signifies “City of
Joy.”
The habitations of this place are all of a circular shape, pavilion-like
in appearance, typical of the rounded out completeness of human life.
These buildings are open at the sides, the roofs of shining brightness,
supported by columns of white ivory, exquisitely carved, and entwined
with clustering plants and flowering vines. They also are ranged in
circles or spheres, eight of these homesteads, with their connecting
flower-gardens, comprising a circle. Here and there are gateways,
leading to vast and beautiful grounds, where all that can delight the
eye and charm the ear may be found. These gateways are reared of solid
alabaster-like stone, in the form of an arch.
Everywhere we observe the circle and arch, nowhere do we find sharp
corners, or the angular edge; all is smooth, completed, harmonious. The
flower-beds are in rings, blooming with soft, exquisite tints, and
redolent with delicate odors.
The inhabitants of this city dwell in unity, co-operate together in
associative bodies, each one working for the good of all. Their sphere
represents brotherly love and honest fidelity; their aura is clear,
shining and transparent.
I understand that these beings rarely, if ever, return to earthly
scenes. They have long since passed beyond the conditions of material
things; they are without passions, but delight to minister to suffering
souls; they understand the art of preparing their beautiful garments
from elements gathered from the gardens, and their food likewise grows
spontaneously in the shape of rich, juicy, and nutritious fruit.
The habits of life of these beings are extremely simple; they have no
artificial wants and desires; their clothing is of the flowing, drapery
style; their homes are simply furnished with furniture framed from tree
and shrub, and adorned with vines and flowers.
They are a studious people, interested in all that affects humanity, and
have groves and temples dedicated to Truth, Wisdom, and Knowledge; also
temples, large rotundas, where the sage and the philosopher, the chemist
and the scientist, hold forth in words of wisdom.
This place I have seen but once, and then imperfectly. Thither I was
guided by a venerable ministering being, who delights to instruct the
young and ignorant. But one peculiarity I observed; instead of the
brilliant light of golden sunshine pouring down upon the scene, the
whole city seemed partially veiled in a peculiar, rose-tinted haze,
which threw a delicious sense of beauty over the white homesteads, the
gleaming waters of the circular fountains, and the blooming gardens.
The inhabitants of this supernal city traverse space mostly by the
intensity of will-force, but I am told they also possess conveyances for
ærial travel, circular-shaped, silken-draped air cars, which glide
through the atmosphere like graceful birds of golden plumage. These I
did not see, but I have seen similar ærial cars in other places.
Oh, were it possible to convey to you an adequate comprehension of the
wonders and beauties of another life than this, it would be a task over
which an angel might rejoice.
FLORALIA, THE VALLEY OF FLOWERS.
I cannot begin to enumerate to you the beautiful cities of spirit life,
and the sweet, outlying country places; neither can I hope to convey to
you a description of the peaceful, glowing valleys and woodlands of the
Better Country. But there are two beautiful valleys of which I feel to
speak, and which may give you a conception of the many fertile spots,
rich with luxuriant growth, that adorn the Land of Souls.
Floralia, or the Valley of Flowers, is charmingly situated between two
ranges of massive mountains, which glow in the sun with more than
roseate brightness, or deepen into purple as the cooling shadows ascend
their gleaming sides.
Long and wide the valley stretches out, sweet and fair, dotted here and
there with groves and clumps of trees; a clear and limpid stream of
water, reflecting the azure sky, runs through the midst of the valley,
which is fed by living springs from the mountain. Clusters of snow-white
cottages abound, whose inhabitants are composed of little innocent
children, with their guardians, teachers, or spirit parents; for little
ones coming to our life, who have no father and mother to greet them,
are at once adopted by kind spirits, who devote their lives to their
care and guidance.
But the most remarkable feature of this valley, and the one from which
it derives its name, Floralia, is the lavish profusion of flowers on
every hand. The green sward, so like velvet in softness, is literally
covered with flowers—flowers of every type, degree, and color—the whole
forming a magnificent scene of beauty and fragrance; so exquisitely do
the colors blend and their odors harmonize. This you will believe is the
home of honey-loving insects and singing birds, and the whole presents a
perfect picture of delight.
To this flowery home, little children are brought, who pass out from
earth in childhood’s hours; here they are borne by loving, ministering
angels, and tenderly reared and cherished. Many of these little ones
knew not the meaning of care and tenderness on earth, but all are
lovingly tended at this place.
Here they attend the school of Nature, learn of flower and bird and
rippling rill; and are instructed in the lessons of life, and the laws
of being, by their gentle guardians. Only purity and peace abound here,
and the little ones develop all their sweetest attributes of soul.
THE VALLEY OF DELIGHT.
The other vale of which I have spoken is called the Valley of Delight.
This valley is somewhat depressed and nearly round; nestling between
gigantic hills, it resembles a great green basin set with flowers of
many hues. No scorching wind, no battling storm ever sweeps across this
valley; all is mild and balmy. The crystal water flashes from many
fountains and gurgles from leaping springs.
In this sweet spot more than one poet abides, more than one artist makes
his home; but the great attraction of the place is a massive, white,
academic-looking structure, in the center of the valley. This building
is indeed a college of learning; within its lofty walls lessons are
given and learned, not only in the usual arts and sciences, but, best of
all, in the art of teaching, and of becoming competent to guide,
instruct, and develop all the best powers of the little children. From
this college in the Valley of Delight, spirits, men and women, youths
and maidens, go forth to Floralia, to become teachers and guides for the
little children who gather there.
In this college school, even elderly men and women are entered as
pupils; those who, having experienced earthly life without the
advantages of education, or have passed through mortality confined to
one department of learning. In our world every spirit receives the
opportunity for acquiring an education, and all, at some time, avail
themselves of it. There are many such schools of learning in the
spiritual world, and they are of untold benefit to the inquiring soul.
It would be useless for me to attempt to describe even a tenth part of
the places I have visited, and scenes I have witnessed in the spiritual.
Mortal language fails to convey a proper idea of certain phases of
spirit life, even when the brain of our instrument can receive correctly
the thoughts we impress upon it. To realize positively the beauties as
well as the deformities,—if I may be allowed to use the word in relation
to the lower spheres of spirit life,—one must be able to perceive them
with spirit vision. Hence I have only attempted to convey to you a faint
though real idea, so far as it extends, of what I have witnessed in
other lands than those of earth.
THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUND OF THE INDIANS.
Before I close this chapter I must speak to you of that fair, peaceful,
mountainous country of the spirit world, where the Indian race find a
happy home. To reach this region from the cities of which I have spoken,
one must go far out into the open country; through valleys and over
hills; through deep forests and sunny glades, up, ever upward in his
march, until at length he comes to an open stretch of green fields,
where the mellow sunlight gleams and tiny flowers blossom. Beyond this
level plain of verdure, a deep, blue, rolling river sweeps, its shining
waves dancing in the sunlight under the quaint, canoe-like boats that
rest upon them. Kanalaw, Smiling River, I have heard these waters
called; and it seems indeed a fitting name, for only peace and joy is
suggested at the sight of its shining waves. Beyond this rolling river
there is a deeply-wooded country. Here you are up high among the
mountains; this is the red man’s home, his happy hunting ground, where
no foe disturbs him, where no storms can come.
The white race is welcome here as visitors, and a number live here as
teachers to their dusky friends; but this is exclusively an Indian
country. Throughout the deep forests, where cooling streamlets flow, and
birds make merry music in the branches of the stately trees, the
picturesque wigwams of the Indians stand, white and shining, embroidered
with quills, feathers, and silks of every hue, hung with many-colored
hangings or curtains of silken texture, and ornamented with natural
flowers, which give out sweet incense to the breezes. The young people
of the race delight to weave flowery garlands with which to deck their
homes.
Out in the sunny glades of this region, where flowers of every kind bud
and blossom, where the brooks murmur over mossy stones, and all life is
glad, the great lodges of the country stand,—their school-houses and
their council-halls,—and there they meet to give or gain instruction and
to receive counsel from the wise chiefs whom they honor and love.
Tribes here mingle together and dwell in unity; no hate, no anger, no
fears disturb their minds; they grow in harmony, and gain that strength
of mind which they send back to aid and assist the pale-faces through
their chosen mediums. Here the Indian finds rest and peace, gaining
freedom, vigor, and strength from the waters, woods, and hills; growing
gentle like the flowers, and mild as the evening breeze. His soul grows
and expands in the power of love, and he gains knowledge not only from
surrounding scenes, but through his intuitive faculties, which are
receptive to truths, and likewise from learned and cultured beings from
the higher spheres, who delight to teach the red man, and whom he in
turn listens to with reverence and love.
This beautiful country, fairer than mortal eye hath ever witnessed, has
proved a blessing to many a weary spirit. Not only is it a refuge for
the poor, hunted and despised Indian, who, fleeing from mortal chains,
finds therein rest and peace, but it is also a haven of rest to many a
poor, weary pale face, who, passing out from mortal life, uncared for
and alone, is taken up by tender spirits into this blooming country, and
amid its pure air and green hills, cared for by the tender Indian maid,
he gains strength and ease of mind and body. Here, too, many little
children gain strength and power to return to earth as messengers of
light to weary hearts.
And there are lyceums in the Indian country,—lyceums, where lessons are
learned from the singing brook, the mossy stone, the budding flower, and
the warbling bird; where the grand march is made beneath archways of
living green, and many-colored banners are formed of blooming flowers;
where life is natural, and where souls are happy and free.