" Perhaps this was exactly what he
desired. He sat, bending forward a little over the table, his square
jaws firmly set, his eyes hidden beneath their heavy brows, and every
long, wiry hair on his head in its proper place. I fixed my eyes upon
him, threw my mind into a state of perfect receptivity, and waited.
It was not long before I felt his approach. Shadow after shadow flitted
across the still mirror of my inward sense. Whether the thoughts took
words in his brain or in mine,--whether I first caught his disjointed
musings, and, by their utterance reacting upon him, gave system and
development to _his_ thoughts,--I cannot tell. But this I know: what I
said came wholly from him,--not from the slandered spirits of the dead,
not from the vagaries of my own imagination, but from _him_. "Listen to
me!" I said. "In the flesh I was a martyr to the Truth, and I am
permitted to communicate only with those whom the Truth has made free.
You are the heralds of the great day; you have climbed from sphere to
sphere, until now you stand near the fountains of light. But it is not
enough that you see: your lives must reflect the light. The inward
vision is for you, but the outward manifestation thereof is for the
souls of others.
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