the inglises, by margaret murray robertson. ________________________________________________________________________ margaret robertson generally wrote about rather religion-minded people, and this is no exception. the women in her stories tend to moan on a good bit, and this book is also no exception to that. having said that, don't say i didn't warn you. however, like all novels of the second half of the nineteenth century, they are about a bygone age, and things were different then. for that reason it is worth reading books of that period if you want to know more about how people lived in those days. one very big difference was illness. nowadays, you go to the doctor, and very probably he or she will be able to cure you. in those days you either died or were confined to your bed for a long time. if you died but had been responsible for income coming into the house, in many cases that stopped, too. the women-folk and the children would be left without support. no wonder they moaned a lot, and turned to religion, to comfort themselves. it is hard for us to realise what huge progress has been made in social reforms. reading this book, and others of that period (this book was published in ) will teach a lot about how lucky we are to live in the present age, despite all its other faults. ________________________________________________________________________ the inglises, by margaret murray robertson. chapter one. in the large and irregular township of gourlay, there are two villages, gourlay centre and gourlay corner. the reverend mr inglis lived in the largest and prettiest of the two, but he preached in both. he preached also in another part of the town, called the north gore. a good many of the gore people used to attend church in one or other of the two villages; but some of them would never have heard the gospel preached from one year's end to the other, if the minister had not gone to them. so, though the way was long and the roads rough at the best of seasons, mr inglis went often to hold service in the little red school-house there. it was not far on in november, but the night was as hard a night to be out in as though it were the depth of winter, mrs inglis thought, as the wind dashed the rain and sleet against the window out of which she and her son david were trying to look. they could see nothing, however, for the night was very dark. even the village lights were but dimly visible through the storm, which grew thicker every moment; with less of rain and more of snow, and the moaning of the wind among the trees made it impossible for them to hear any other sound. "i ought to have gone with him, mamma," said the boy, at last. "perhaps so, dear. but papa thought it not best, as this is frank's last night here." "it is quite time he were at home, mamma, even though the roads are bad." "yes; he must have been detained. we will not wait any longer. we will have prayers, and let the children go to bed; he will be very tired when he gets home." "how the wind blows! we could not hear the wagon even if he were quite near. shall i go to the gate and wait?" "no, dear, better not. only be ready with the lantern when he comes." they stood waiting a little longer, and then david opened the door and looked out. "it will be awful on hardscrabble to-night, mamma," said he, as he came back to her side. "yes," said his mother, with a sigh, and then they were for a long time silent. she was thinking how the wind would find its way through the long-worn great coat of her husband, and how unfit he was to bear the bitter cold. david was thinking how the rain, that had been falling so heavily all the afternoon, must have gullied out the road down the north side of hardscrabble hill, and hoping that old don would prove himself sure-footed in the darkness. "i wish i had gone with him," said he, again. "let us go to the children," said his mother. the room in which the children were gathered was bright with fire-light--a picture of comfort in contrast with the dark and stormy night out upon which these two had been looking. the mother shivered a little as she drew near the fire. "sit here, mamma." "no, sit here; this is the best place." the eagerness was like to grow to clamour. "hush! children," said the mother; "it is time for prayers. we will not wait for papa, because he will be very tired and cold. no, letty, you need not get the books, there has been enough reading for the little ones to-night. we will sing `jesus, lover of my soul,' and then david will read the chapter." "oh! yes, mamma, `jesus, lover;' i like that best," said little mary, laying her head down on her mother's shoulder, and her little shrill voice joined with the others all through, though she could hardly speak the words plainly. "that's for papa," said she, when they reached the end of the last line, "while the tempest still is high." the children laughed, but the mother kissed her fondly, saying softly: "yes, love; but let us sing on to the end." it was very sweet singing, and very earnest. even their cousin, francis oswald, whose singing in general was of a very different kind, joined in it, to its great improvement, and to the delight of the rest. then david read the chapter, and then they all knelt down and the mother prayed. "not just with her lips, but with all her heart, as if she really believed in the good of it," thought francis oswald to himself. "of course we all believe in it in a general way," he went on thinking, as he rose from his knees and sat down, not on a chair, but on the rug before the fire; "of course, we all believe in it, but not just as aunt mary does. she seems to be seeing the hand that holds the thing she is asking for, and she asks as if she was sure she was going to get it, too. she hasn't a great deal of what people generally are most anxious to have," he went on, letting his eyes wander round the fire-lighted room, "but then she is content with what she has, and that makes all the difference. `a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesses,' she told me the other day, and i suppose she believes _that_, too, and not just in the general way in which we all believe the things that are in the bible. fancy aunt ellen and my sister louisa being contented in a room like this!" it was a very pleasant room, too, the lad thought, though they might not like it, and though there was not an article in it which was in itself beautiful. it was a large, square room, with an alcove in which stood a bed. before the bed was a piece of carpet, which did not extend very far over the grey painted floor, and in the corner was a child's cot. the furniture was all of the plainest, not matching either in style or in material, but looking very much as if it had been purchased piece by piece, at different times and places, as the means of the owners had permitted. the whole was as unlike as possible to the beautifully furnished room in which the greater part of the boy's evenings had been passed, but it was a great deal pleasanter in his eyes at the moment. "i have had jolly times here, better than i shall have at home, unless they let me read again--which i don't believe they will, though i am so much better. i am very glad i came. i like uncle and aunt inglis. there is no `make believe' about them; and the youngsters are not a bad lot, take them all together." he sat upon the rug with his hands clasped behind his head, letting his thoughts run upon many things. david had gone to the window, and was gazing out into the stormy night again, and his brother jem sat with his face bent close over his book, reading by the fire-light. not a word was spoken for a long time. violet laid the sleeping little mary in her cot, and when her mother came in, she said: "don't you think, mamma, that perhaps papa may stay all night at the gore? it is so stormy." "no, dear; he said he would be home. something must have detained him longer than usual. what are you thinking about so earnestly francis?" "since you went up-stairs? oh! about lots of things. about the chapter david was reading, for one thing." the chapter david had read was the tenth of numbers--one not very likely to interest young readers, except the last few verses. it was the way with the inglises, at morning and evening worship, to read straight on through the bible, not passing over any chapter because it might not seem very interesting or instructive. at other times they might pick and choose the chapters they read and talked about, but at worship time they read straight on, and in so doing fell on many a word of wonderful beauty, which the pickers and choosers might easily overlook. the last few verses of the chapter read that night were one of these, and quite new to one of the listeners, at least. it was moses' invitation to hobab to go with the lord's people to the promised land. "i wonder whether the old chap went," said frank, after a pause. "what are you laughing at, jem?" "he thinks that is not a respectful way to speak of a bible person, i suppose," said violet. "about the chapter david was reading," said jem, mimicking his cousin's tone and manner. "that is for mamma. you don't expect me to swallow that. give mamma the result of your meditations, like a good boy." "i said i was thinking of the chapter, for one thing," said frank, not at all angry, though he reddened a little. "i was thinking, besides, whether that was a proper book for you to be reading to-night, `the swiss family,' is it not?" "sold," cried jem, triumphantly; "it is the `pilgrim's progress.'" "you have read that before," said violet. "lots of times. it will bear it. but what about hobab, frank? much you care about the old chap, don't you? davie, come here and listen to frank." "if you would only give frank a chance to speak," said his mother, smiling. "did hobab go, do you think, aunt?" asked frank. "he refused to go," said jem. "don't you remember he said, `i will not go, but i will depart into my own land, and to my kindred?'" "yes; but that was before moses said, `thou mayest be to us instead of eyes, forasmuch as thou knowest how we are to encamp in this wilderness.' you see, he had a chance of some adventures; that might tempt him. do you think he went, aunt?" "i cannot tell; afterwards we hear of heber the kenite, who was of the children of hobab; and his wife took the part of the israelites, when she slew sisera. but whether he went with the people at that time, we do not hear. very likely he did. i can understand how the people's need of him as a guide, or a guard, might have seemed to him a better reason for casting in his lot with the people, than even the promise that moses gave him, `come with us and we will do thee good.'" "that is to say, mamma, he would rather have a chance to help others, than the prospect of a good time for himself. that is not the way with people generally," said jem, shaking his head gravely. "it is not said that it was the way with hobab," said his mother; "but i am inclined to think, with francis, that perhaps it might have been so." "he must have been a brave man and a good man, or moses would not have wanted him," said david. "and if he went for the sake of a home in the promised land, he must have been disappointed. he did not get there for forty years, if he got there at all," said jem. "but if he went for the fighting he may have had a good time in the wilderness, for there must have been many alarms, and a battle now and then," said frank. "but, mamma," said violet, earnestly, "they had the pillar of cloud, and the pillar of fire, and the angel of the covenant going before. why should we suppose they needed the help of hobab?" "god helps them that help themselves, letty, dear," said jem. "gently, jem," said his mother; "speak reverently, my boy. yes, letty, they were miraculously guarded and guided; but we do not see that they were allowed to fold their hands and do nothing. god fought for them, and they fought for themselves. and as for hobab, he must have been a good and brave man, as david says, and so the chances are he went with the people, thinking less of what he could get for himself than of what he could do for others, as is the way with good and brave men." "like the people we read about in books," said jem. "yes; and like some of the people we meet in real life," said his mother, smiling. "the men who even in the eyes of the world are the best and bravest, are the men who have forgotten themselves and their own transitory interests to live or die for the sake of others." "like moses, when he pleaded that the people might not be destroyed, even though the lord said he would make him the father of a great nation," said david. "like paul," said violet, "who `counted not his life dear to him,' and who was willing `to spend and be spent,' though the more abundantly he loved the people, the less he was loved." "like leonidas with his three hundred heroes." "like curtius, who leapt into the gulf." "like william tell and john howard." "like a great many missionaries," said violet. and a great many more were mentioned. "but, aunt," said frank, "you said like a great many people we meet in real life. i don't believe i know a single man like that--one who forgets himself, and lives for others. tell me one." "papa," said david, softly. his mother smiled. "it seems to me that all true christians ought to be like that--men who do not live to please themselves--who desire most of all to do god's work among their fellow-men," said she, gravely. frank drew a long breath. "then i am afraid i don't know many christians, aunt inglis." "my boy, perhaps you are not a good judge, and i daresay you have never thought much about the matter." "no, i have not. but now that i do think of it, i cannot call to mind any one--scarcely any one who would answer to that description. it seems to me that most men seem to mind their own interests pretty well. there is uncle inglis, to be sure--but then he is a minister, and doing good is his business, you know." "frank," said jem, as his mother did not answer immediately, "do you know that papa might have been a banker, and a rich man now, like your father? his uncle offered him the chance first, but he had made up his mind to be a minister. his uncle was very angry, wasn't he, mamma?" but his mother had no wish that the conversation should be pursued in that direction, so she said, "yes, frank, it is his business to do god's work in the world, but no more than it is yours and mine, in one sense." "mine!" echoed frank, with a whistle of astonishment, which jem echoed. "yours, surely, my dear boy, and yours, jem; and your responsibility is not lessened by the fact that you may be conscious that you are refusing that personal consecration which alone can fit you for god's service, or make such service acceptable." there was nothing answered to this, and mrs inglis added, "and being consecrated to god's service, we do his work well, when we do well the duty he has appointed us, however humble it may be." "but to come back to hobab, mamma," said jem, in a little while. "after all, do you really think it was a desire to do god's work in helping the people that made him go with them, if he did go? perhaps he thought of the fighting and the possible adventures, as frank says." "we have no means of knowing, except that it does not seem to have been so much with the thought of his being a protector, that moses asked him, as of his being a guide. `thou mayest be to us instead of eyes,' said he." "yes," said jem, hesitatingly, "i suppose so; but it must have been something to him to think of leading such a host." "but he would not have led the host," said david. "yet it must have been a grand thing to follow such a leader as moses." "aunt mary," said frank, "if there is something for us all to do in the world, as you say, i, for one, would much rather think of it as a place to fight in than to work in." "the same here," said jem. "well, so it is," said mrs inglis. "`in the world's broad field of battle.' don't you remember, davie?" "yes, i remember, `be a hero in the strife,'" said david. "and paul bids timothy, `fight the good fight of faith;' and in another place he says, `that thou mayest war a good warfare;' which is better authority than your poet, violet." "yes, and when he was an old man--paul, i mean--he said, `i have fought the good fight; i have finished the course; i have kept the faith.'" "and is there not something about armour?" asked frank, who was not very sure of his bible knowledge. "yes. `put ye on the whole armour of god, that ye may be able to stand in the evil day, and having done all to stand.' that is paul, too." "yes," said jem, slowly. "that was to be put on against the wiles of the devil. `ye wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers; against the rulers of the darkness of this world; against spiritual wickedness in high places.'" frank uttered an exclamation. "they needed armour, i think." "not more than we do now, my boy. we have the same enemies," said his aunt. it was her way at such times to let the conversation flow on according to the pleasure of the young people, only she put in a word now and then as it was needed for counsel or restraint. "it sounds awful, don't it?" said jem, who was always amused when his cousin received as a new thought something that the rest of them had been familiar with all their lives. "and that isn't all. what is that about `the law in our members warring against the law in our minds?' what with one thing and what with another, you stand a chance to get fighting enough." his mother put her hand on his arm. "but, mamma, this thought of life's being a battle-field, makes one afraid," said violet. "it need not, dear, one who takes `the whole armour.'" "but what is the armour?" said frank. "i don't understand." violet opened the bible and read that part of the sixth chapter of ephesians where the armour is spoken of; and the boys discussed it piece by piece. david, who had scarcely spoken before, had most to say now, telling the others about the weapons and the armour used by the ancients, and about their mode of carrying on war. for david had been reading latin and greek with his father for a good while, and the rest listened with interest. they wandered away from the subject sometimes, or rather in the interest with which they discussed the deeds of ancient warriors, they were in danger of forgetting "the whole armour," and the weapons which are "not carnal but spiritual," and the warfare they were to wage by means of these, till a word from the mother brought them back again. "`and having done all to stand,'" said frank, in a pause that came in a little while. "that does not seem much to do." "it is a great deal," said his aunt. "the army that encamps on the battle-field after the battle, is the conquering army. to stand is victory." "yes, i see," said frank. "it means victory to stand firm when an assault is made, but they who would be `good soldiers of jesus christ' have more to do than that. his banner must be carried to wave over all the nations. the world must be subdued to him. and when it is said, `be strong,' it means be strong for conquest as well as for defence." and then, seeing that the boys were moved to eager listening, mrs inglis put aside her anxious thoughts about her husband, and went on to speak of the honour and glory of being permitted to fight under him who was promised as a "leader and commander to the people"--and in such a cause--that the powers of darkness might be overthrown, the slaves of sin set free, and his throne set up who is to "reign in righteousness." though the conflict might be fierce and long, how certain the victory! how high the reward at last! yes, and before the last. one had not to wait till the last. how wonderful it was, she said, and how sweet to believe, that not one in all the numberless host, who were "enduring hardness as good soldiers of jesus christ," but was known to him, and beloved by him; known even by name; watched over and cared for; guided and strengthened; never forgotten, never overlooked. "safe through life, victorious in death, through him that loved them, and gave himself for them," added the mother, and then she paused, partly because these wonderful thoughts, and the eager eyes fastened on hers, made it not easy to continue, and, partly, because she would fain put into as few words as might be, her hopes and desires for the lad who was going so soon to leave them. "francis," said she, softly, "would it not be something grand to be one of such an army, fighting under such a leader?" "yes, aunt mary, if one only knew the way." "one can always offer one's self as his soldier." "yes, if one is fit." "but one can never make one's self fit. _he_ undertakes all that. offer yourself to be his. give yourself to him. he will appoint you your place in the host, and make you strong to stand, patient to endure, valiant to fight, and he will ensure the victory, and give you the triumph at the end. think of all this, francis, dear boy! it is a grand thing to be a soldier of the lord." "yes, aunt mary," said frank, gravely. then they were all silent for a long time. indeed, there was not a word spoken till mr inglis' voice was heard at the door. jem ran out to hold old don till david brought the lantern, and both boys spent a good while in making the horse comfortable after his long pull over the hills. mrs inglis went to the other room to attend to her husband, and violet followed her, and frank was left alone to think over the words that he had heard. he did think of them seriously, then and afterwards.--he never quite forgot them, though he did not act upon them and offer himself for a "good soldier of jesus christ" for a long time after that. in a little while mr inglis came in and sat down beside him, but after the first minute or two he was quite silent, busy with his own thoughts it seemed, and frank said nothing either, but wondered what his uncle's thoughts might be. the discomfort of cold and wind and of the long drive through sleet and rain, had nothing to do with them, the boy said to himself, as, with his hand screening his weak eyes from the light and heat of the fire, he watched his changing face. it was a very good face to watch. it was thin and pale, and the hair had worn away a little from the temples, making the prominent forehead almost too high and broad for the cheeks beneath. its expression was usually grave and thoughtful, but to-night there was a brightness on it which fixed the boy's gaze; and the eyes, too often sunken and heavy after a day of labour, shone to-night with a light at once so peaceful and so triumphant, that frank could not but wonder. in a little while violet came in, and she saw it too. "has anything happened, papa?" asked she, softly. he turned his eyes to her, but did not speak. he had heard her voice but not her question, and she did not repeat it, but came and sat down on a low stool at his feet. "are you very tired, papa?" she asked at last. "not more so than usual. indeed, i have hardly thought of it to-night, or of the cold and the sleet and the long drive, that have moved my little girl's compassion. but it is pleasant to be safe home again, and to find all well." "but what kept you so long, papa?" said jem, coming in with the lantern in his hand. "was it don's fault? didn't he do his duty, poor old don?" "no. i was sent for to see timothy bent. that was what detained me so long." "poor old tim!" said violet, softly. "`poor old tim' no longer, violet, my child. it is well with timothy bent now, beyond all fear." "has he gone, papa?" "yes, he is safe home at last. the long struggle is over, and he has gotten the victory." the boys looked at one another, thinking of the words that had been spoken to them a little while ago. "it is timothy bent, mamma," said violet, as her mother came in. "he is dead." "is he gone?" said her mother, sitting down. "did he suffer much? were you with him at the last?" "yes, he suffered," said mr inglis, a momentary look of pain passing over his face. "but that is all past now forever." "did he know you?" "yes, he knew me. he spoke of the time when i took him up at the corner, and brought him home to you. he said that was the beginning." there was a pause. "the beginning of what?" whispered frank to violet. "the beginning of a new life to poor tim," said violet. "the beginning of the glory revealed to him to-day," said mr inglis. "it is wonderful! i cannot tell you how wonderful it seemed to me to-night to see him as he looked on the face of death. we speak about needing faith in walking through dark places, but we need it more to help us to bear the light that shines on the death-bed of a saved and sanctified sinner. how glorious! how wonderful! for a moment it seemed to me beyond belief. now with us in that poor room, sick and suffering, and sometimes afraid, even; then, in the twinkling of an eye, in the very presence of his lord--and like him--with joy unspeakable and full of glory! does it not seem almost past belief? `thanks be to god, who giveth us the victory through our lord jesus christ!'" there was silence for a good while after that, and then david first, and afterwards the others, answered the mother's look by rising and saying softly, "good-night," and then they went away. chapter two. "papa does not feel it to-night," said jem, as they went up-stairs; "but he'll be tired enough to-morrow, when he has time to think about it. and so poor old tim has gone!" "`poor old tim, no longer,' as your father said," said frank, gravely. "it does seem almost beyond belief, doesn't it?" "what?" asked jem. but frank did not answer him directly. "i wonder what battles old tim had to fight," said he. "your father said he had gotten the victory." "oh! just the battles that other people have to fight with the world, the flesh, and the devil, and a hard time he has had, too, poor old chap," said jem. "jem," said david, "i think old tim bent was the very happiest old man we knew." "well, perhaps he was, after a fashion; but i am sure he had trouble, of one kind or another--sickness, poverty, and his people not very kind to him--tired of him, at any rate. however, that don't matter to him now." "he has gotten the victory," repeated frank. the words seemed to have a charm for him. "it is wonderful, isn't it?" all this was said as the boys were undressing to go to bed. there were two beds in the room they occupied, the brothers had one, and frank had the other. after the lamp was blown out, david reminded the others that they must be up early in the morning, and that the sooner they were asleep, the readier they would be to rise when the right time came; so there was nothing said for a good while. then frank spoke: "what was all that you said about your father's being a banker and a rich man? are you asleep already, jem?" jem had been very near it. "who? papa? oh! yes, he might have been; but you see he chose `the better part.' i sometimes wonder whether he's ever sorry." "jem," said david, "it's not right--to speak in that way, i mean. and as for papa's being sorry--not to-night, at any rate," added david, with a sound that was like a sob in his voice. "and why not to-night? ah! i understand. it was through him that old tim got the victory;" and both the boys were surprised to see him suddenly sit up in bed in the dark; and after a long silence he repeated, as if to himself, "i should think not to-night, indeed!" and then he lay down again. "papa has never been sorry--never for a single moment," said david. "he has helped a great many besides old tim to win the victory. and besides, i dare say, he has had as much real enjoyment in his life as if he had been a rich man like your father. he is not sorry, at any rate, nor mamma." "oh! that is all very well to say," interposed jem; "i dare say he is not sorry that he is a minister, but i say it is a shame that ministers should always be poor men--as they always are!" "oh! well. people can't have everything," said david. "you've got to be very contented, all at once," said jem, laughing. "you have said as much about it as ever i have, and more, too. don't you remember when the hunters went away to m--, to school, and you and violet couldn't go? you wanted to go, didn't you?" "nonsense, jem. i never thought of such a thing seriously. why, it would have taken more than the whole of papa's salary to send us both!" "but that is just what i said. why should not papa be able to send you, as well as ned hunter's father to send him?" "it comes to the same thing," said david, loftily. "i know more latin and greek, too, than ned hunter, though he has been at m--; and as for violet--people can't have everything." "and you have grown humble as well as contented, it seems," said jem; "just as if you didn't care! you'll care when mamma has to send debby away, and keep violet at home from school, because she can't get papa a new great coat, and pay debby's wages, too. you may say what you like, but i wish i were rich; and i mean to be, one of these days." "but it is all nonsense about debby, jem. however, mamma would not wish us to discuss it now, and we had better go to sleep." but, though there was nothing more said, none of them went to sleep very soon, and they all had a great many serious thoughts as they lay in silence in the dark. the brothers had often had serious thoughts before; but to francis they came almost for the first time--or rather, for the first time he found it difficult to put them away. he had been brought up very differently from david and jem. he was the son of a rich man, and the claims of business had left their father little time to devote to the instruction of his children. the claims of society had left as little to his mother--she was dead now--and, except at church on sundays, he had rarely heard a word to remind him that there was anything in the world of more importance than the getting of wealth and the pursuit of pleasure, till he came to visit the inglises. he had been ill before that, and threatened with serious trouble in his eyes, and the doctor had said that he must have change of air, and that he must not be allowed to look at a book for a long time. mr inglis had been at his father's house about that time, and had asked him to let the boy go home with him, to make the acquaintance of his young people, and he had been very glad to let him go. mr inglis was not frank's uncle, though he called him so; he was only his father's cousin, and there had never been any intimacy between the families, so francis had been a stranger to them all before he came to gourlay. but he soon made friends with them all. the simple, natural way of life in the minister's house suited him well, and his visit had been lengthened out to four months, instead of four weeks, as was at first intended; and now, as he lay thinking, he was saying to himself that he was very sorry to go. this last night he seemed to see more clearly than ever he had seen before what made the difference between their manner of life here in his uncle's house, and the life they lived at home. it was a difference altogether in favour of their life here, though here they were poor, and at home they were rich. the difference went deeper than outward circumstances, and must reach beyond them--beyond all the chances and changes time might bring. and then he thought about all his aunt had said about "the good fight" and "the whole armour," the great leader, and the sure victory at last. but strangely enough, and foolishly enough it seemed to him, his very last thought was about debby's going away; and before he had satisfactorily computed the number of weeks' wages it would take to make the sum which would probably be enough to purchase an overcoat, he fell asleep, and carried on the computation in his dreams. the next morning was not a very pleasant one to travel in. it was cloudy and cold, and the ground was covered with snow. mr inglis had intended to take frank on the first stage of his journey--that was to the railway station in d--, a town eleven miles away. but, as jem had foretold, the weariness which he had scarcely felt when he first came home, was all the worse now because of that, and he had taken cold besides; so david and jem were to take his place in conveying their cousin on the journey. the good-byes were all said, and the boys set off. they did not mind the cold, or the snow, or the threatening rain, but were well pleased with the prospect of a few more hours together. the roads were bad, and their progress was slow; but that mattered little, as they had the day before them, and plenty to say to one another to pass the time. they discussed trees and fruits, and things in general, after the fashion of boys, and then the last stories of hunters and trappers they had read; and in some way which it would not be easy to trace, they came round to hobab and the battles he might have fought, and then to "the whole armour" and the warfare in which it was intended to aid them who wore it. "i wish i understood it all better," said frank. "i suppose the bible means something when it speaks about the warfare, and the armour, and all that; but then one would not think so, just to see the way people live, and good people too." "one can't tell by just seeing the outside of people's lives," said david. "the outside of people's lives!" repeated frank. "why, what else can we see?" "i mean you are thinking of something quite different from mamma's idea of battles, and warfare, and all that. she was not speaking about anything that all the world, or people generally, would admire, or even see." "but you spoke of your father, david, and i can understand how he in a certain way may be said to be fighting the battles of the lord. he preaches against sin, and bad people oppose him, and he stands up for his master; and when he does good to people, wins them over to god's side, he may be said to make a conquest--to gain a victory, as he did when he rescued poor tim. i can understand why he should be called a soldier, and how his way of doing things may be called fighting; and that may be the way with ministers generally, i suppose; but as for other people, they ought to be the same, as the bible says so; but i don't see that they are, for all that. do you, jem?" "it depends on what you mean by fighting," said jem. "but whatever it is, it is something that can be seen," said frank impatiently, "and what i mean is that i don't see it." "but then the people you know most about mayn't be among the fighting men, even if you were a good judge of fighting," said jem. "your eyes mayn't be the best, you know." "well, lend me your eyes, then, and don't mind the people i know. take the people _you_ know, your father's right hand men, who ought to be among the soldiers, if there are any. there is mr strong and old penn, and the man who draws the mill logs. and all the people, women as well as men, ought to be wearing the armour and using the weapons. there is your friend, miss bethia, davie; is she a warrior, too?" "aunt bethia certainly is," said jem decidedly. "she is not afraid of-- well, of principalities and powers, i tell _you_. don't she fight great--eh, davie?" "aunt bethia is a very good woman, and it depends on what you call fighting," said david, dubiously. "yes, miss bethia is a soldier. and as for old mr penn, i've seen him fight very hard to keep awake in meeting," said jem, laughing. "it is easy enough to make fun of it, but aunt mary was in earnest. don't you know about it, davie?" "about these people fighting, do you mean? well, i once heard papa say that mr strong's life was for many years a constant fight. and he said, too, that he was using the right weapons, and that he would doubtless win the victory. so you see there is one of them a soldier," said david. "it must be a different kind of warfare from your father's," said frank. "i wonder what mr strong fights for?" "but i think he is fighting the very same battle, only in a different way." "well," said frank, "what about it?" "oh! i don't know that i can tell much about it. it used to be a very bad neighbourhood where old strong lives, and the neighbours used to bother him awfully. and that wasn't the worst. he has a very bad temper naturally, and he got into trouble all round when he first lived there. and one day he heard some of them laughing at him and his religion, saying there was no difference between christians and other people. and they didn't stop there, but scoffed at the name of our lord, and at the bible. it all happened down at hunt's mills, and they didn't know that mr strong was there; and when he rose up from the corner where he had been sitting all the time, and came forward among them, they were astonished, and thought they were going to have great fun. but they didn't that time. mr hunt told papa all about it. he just looked at them and said: `god forgive you for speaking lightly that blessed name, and god forgive me for giving you the occasion.' and then he just turned and walked away. "after that it didn't matter what they said or did to him, he wouldn't take his own part. they say that for more than a year he didn't speak a word to a man in the neighbourhood where he lives; he couldn't trust himself. but he got a chance to do a good turn once in a while, that told better than words. once he turned some stray cattle out of john jarvis's grain, and built up the fences when there was no one at jarvis's house to do it. that wouldn't have been much--any good neighbour would have done as much as that, you know. but it had happened the day before that the jarvis's boys had left down the bars of his back pasture, and all his young cattle had passed most of the night in his own wheat. it was not a place that the boys needed to go to, and it looked very much as if they had done it on purpose. they must have felt mean when they came home and saw old strong building up their fence." then jem took up the word. "and once, some of those fellows took off the nut from his wagon, as it was standing at the store door, and the wheel came off just as he was going down the hill by the bridge; and if it hadn't been that his old jerry is as steady as a rock the old man would have been pitched into the river." "the village people took that up, and wanted him to prosecute them. but he wouldn't," said david. "it was a regular case of `turning the other cheek.' everybody wondered, knowing old strong's temper." "and once they sheared old jerry's mane and tail," said jem. "and they say old strong cried like a baby when he saw him. he wouldn't have anything done about it; but he said he'd be even with them some time. and he was even with one of them. one day when he was in the hayfield, job steele came running over to tell him that his little girl had fallen in the barn and broken her arm and hurt her head, and he begged him to let him have jerry to ride, for the doctor. then mr strong looked him right in the face, and said he, `no, i can't let you have him. you don't know how to treat dumb beasts. i'll go myself for the doctor.' and sure enough, he unyoked his oxen from the cart, though it was saturday and looked like rain, and his hay was all ready to be taken in, and went to the pasture for jerry, and rode to the village himself, and let the doctor have his horse, and walked home." "and did he know that it was job steele who had ill-treated his horse," asked frank. "he never said so to anybody; and job never acknowledged it. but other people said so, and job once told papa that mr strong's way of doing `good for evil,' was the first thing that made him think that there must be something in religion; and mr steele is a changed character now." "and how did it all end with mr strong?" asked frank, much interested. "oh, it isn't ended yet," said david. "mr strong is fighting against his bad temper as hard as ever. it has ended as far as his trouble with his neighbours is concerned. he made them see there is something in religion more than they thought, as job steele said, and there is no more trouble among them. but the old man must have had some pretty hard battles with himself, before it came to that." "and so old mr strong is a soldier, anyway," said frank. "yes, and a conqueror," said jem. "don't you remember, `he that ruleth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city.'" "yes," said david, thoughtfully. "mr strong is a soldier, and, frank, he is fighting the very same battle that papa is fighting--for the honour of christ. it is that they are all fighting for in one way or other. it is that that makes it warring a good warfare, you know." "no," said frank, "i am afraid i don't know much about it. tell me, davie." "oh, i don't pretend to know much about it, either," said david, with a look at jem. but jem shrugged his shoulders. "you should have asked papa," said he. "go ahead, davie," said frank. "well," said david, with some hesitation, "it is supposed that all christians are like their masters--more or less. he was `holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners;' and that is not an easy thing for any man or boy to be, and so all have to fight with themselves, and the world--" "and with the devil," said jem. "the principalities and powers, you know." "i suppose so, but we don't know much about that, only the end of it all is that they may become like christ--so that they may make him known to the world." "i've heard papa speak about it," said jem. "yes, it is one of papa's favourite themes. i have often heard him," said david. and then they went back to the discussion of old mr strong again, and then of others; and there was scarcely one of their acquaintances but they discussed in the new character of a soldier. sometimes they went quite away from the subject, and sometimes they said very foolish things. it is not to be supposed that boys like them would judge very justly, or discuss very charitably the character of people with the outside of whose lives they were alone acquainted, and besides, as david at last gravely acknowledged they could not understand all that was implied in "warring a good warfare," not being soldiers themselves. there was silence for a good while after this, and then they went on again, saying a good many things that could hardly be called wise; but the conclusion to which they came was right and true in the main. it was against `the world, the flesh, and the devil' that christians were to fight, and victory meant to become like christ, and to win over others to be like him, too. that was victory here, and afterwards there would be glory, and the crown of righteousness that paul spoke about, in heaven. they were all very grave by the time they got thus far. "nothing else in the world seems worth while in comparison, when one really thinks about it," said david. "the only wonder is that there are not more soldiers, and that they are not more in earnest," said frank. "all may be soldiers of christ jesus," said david, softly. "even boys?" said frank. "papa says so. boys like you and me and jem. papa was a soldier in the army of the lord, long before he was my age. he told me all about it one day," said david, with a break in his voice. "and he said the sooner we enlist the better `soldiers' we would be, and the more we would accomplish for him." "yes," said frank, "if one only knew the way." "it is all in the bible, frank," said david. "yes, i suppose so. it is a wonder you have not become a `soldier' long ago, david. how glad your mother would be. it is the _only_ thing, she thinks." all this last was said while jem had gone to ask at a farm-house door whether they had not taken the wrong turning up above, and nothing more was said when he came back. indeed, there was not time. the next turn brought the station in sight, and they saw the train and heard the whistle, and had only time for hurried good-byes before frank took his place. jem and davie stood for a little while looking after the train that bore their friend away so rapidly, and then they turned rather disconsolately to retrace their steps over the muddy roads in the direction of home. chapter three. if any one had suddenly asked david inglis to tell him what had been the very happiest moments during all the fourteen happy years of his life, he would probably have gone back in thought to the day, when on the banks of a clear stream among the hills, his very first success as a fisherman had come to him. or the remembrance of certain signal triumphs on the cricket ground, or at base-ball, might have come to his mind. but that would only have been in answer to a sudden question. if he had had time to think, he would have said, and truly too, that the very happiest hours of all his life had been passed in their old wagon at his father's side. so when he found, next day, that instead of sitting down to his lessons in a corner of the study, he was to drive his father over to the bass neighbourhood, to attend old mr bent's funeral, you may be sure he was well pleased. not that he objected to books as a general thing, or that any part of his pleasure rose out of a good chance to shirk his daily lessons. quite the contrary. books and lessons were by no means ignored between him and his father at such times. almost oftener than anything else, books and lessons came into their discussions. but a lesson from a printed page, not very well understood, and learned on compulsion, is one thing, and seldom a pleasant thing to any one concerned. but lessons explained and illustrated by his father as they went slowly through fields and woods together, were very pleasant matters to david. even the latin grammar, over whose tedious pages so many boys have yawned and trifled from generation to generation, even declensions and conjugations, and rules of syntax, and other matters which, as a general thing, are such hopeless mysteries to boys of nine or ten, were made matters of interest to david when his father took them in hand. and when it came to other subjects--subjects to be examined and illustrated by means of the natural objects around them--the rocks and stones, the grass and flowers and trees--the worms that creep, and the birds that fly--the treasures of the earth beneath, and the wonders of the heavens above, there was no thought of lesson or labour then. it was pure pleasure to david, and to his father, too. yes, david was a very happy boy at such times, and knew it--a circumstance which does not always accompany to a boy, the possession of such opportunities and advantages. for david firmly believed in his father as one of the best and wisest of living men. this may have been a mistake on his part, but, if so, his father being, what he was--a good man and true--it was a mistake which did him no harm but good, and it was a mistake which has never been set right to david. so that day was a day to be marked with a white stone. don got a more energetic rubbing down, and an additional measure of oats, on the strength of the pleasant prospect, for david was groom, and gardener, and errand boy, and whatever else his mother needed him to be when his younger brothers were at school, and all the arrangements about his father's going away might be safely trusted to him. it was a beautiful day. the only traces that remained of the premature winter that had threatened them on sunday night, were the long stretches of snow that lingered under the shadows of the wayside trees and fences, and lay in patches in the hollows of the broken pastures. the leafless landscape, so dreary under falling rain or leaden skies, shone and sparkled under sunshine so warm and bright, that david thought the day as fine as a day could be, and gave no regrets to the faded glories of summer. they set out early, for though the day was fine, the roads were not, and even with the best of roads, old don took his frequent journeys in a leisurely and dignified manner, which neither the minister nor david cared to interfere with unless they were pressed for time. they were not to go to the house where old tim had died, for that was on another road, and farther away than the red school-house where the funeral services were to be held, but the school-house was full seven miles from home, and they would need nearly two full hours for the journey. david soon found that these hours must be passed in silence. his father was occupied with his own thoughts, and by many signs which his son had learned to interpret, it was evident that he was thinking over what he was going to say to the people that day, and not a word was spoken till they came in sight of the school-house. on both sides of the road along the fences, many horses and wagons were fastened, and a great many people were standing in groups about the door. "there will be a great crowd to hear you to-day, papa," said david, as they drew near. "yes," said his father. "god give me a word to speak to some poor soul to-day." he went in and the people flocked in after him, and when david, having tied old don to his place by the fence, went in also, it was all that he could do to find standing-room for a while, there were so many there. the plain coffin, without pall or covering, was placed before the desk upon a table, and seated near to it were the few relatives of the dead. next to them were a number of very old people some of whom could look back over all old tim's life, then the friends and neighbours generally, all very grave and attentive as mr inglis rose to speak. there were some there who probably had not heard the gospel preached for years, some who, except on such an occasion, had not for all that time, heard the bible read or a prayer offered. "no wonder that papa wishes to have just the right word to say to them," thought david, as he looked round on them all. and he had just the right word for them, and for david, too, and for all the world. for he set before them "the glorious gospel of the blessed god." he said little of the dead, only that he was a sinner saved by grace; and then he set forth the glory of that wondrous grace to the living. "victory through our lord jesus christ" was his theme--victory over sin, the world, death. the gospel of christ full, free, sufficient, was clearly set before the people that day. david listened, as he was rather apt to listen to his father's sermons, not for himself but for others. he heard all that was said, and laid it up in his mind, that he might be able to tell it to his mother at home, as she generally expected him to do; but, at the same time, he was thinking how all that his father was saying would seem to this or the other man or woman in the congregation who did not often hear his voice. there was less wonder that he should do that to-day because there were a great many strangers there, and for the most part they were listening attentively. in the little pauses that came now and then, "you might have heard a pin fall," david said afterwards to his mother, and the boy felt proud that his father should speak so well, and that all the people should be compelled, as it were, to listen so earnestly. this was only for a minute, however. he was ashamed of the thought almost immediately. for what did it matter whether the people thought well of his father or not? and then he tried to make himself believe that he was only glad for their sakes, that, listening so attentively to truths so important, they might get good. and then he thought what a grand thing it would be, and how happy it would make his father, if from this very day some of these careless people should begin a new life, and if the old school-house should be crowded every sunday to hear his words. but it never came into his mind until the very end, that all that his father was saying was just as much for him as for any one there. all through the sermon ran the idea of the christian life being a warfare, and the christian a soldier, fighting under a divine leader; and when, at the close, he spoke of the victory, how certain it was, how complete, how satisfying beyond all that heart of man could conceive, david forgot to wonder what all the people might be thinking, so grand and wonderful it seemed. so when a word or two was added about the utter loss and ruin that must overtake all who were not on the side of the divine leader, in the great army which he led, it touched him, too. it was like a nail fastened in a sure place. it could not be pushed aside, or shaken off, as had happened so many times when fitting words had been spoken in his hearing before. they were for him, too, as well as for the rest--more than for the rest, he said to himself, and they would not be put away. as was the custom in these country places at that time, there was a long pause after the sermon was over. the coffin was opened, and one after another went up and looked on the face of the dead, and it seemed to david that they would never be done with it, and he rose at last and went out of doors to wait for his father there. it was but a few steps to the grave-yard, and the people stood only a minute or two round the open grave. then there was a prayer offered, and poor old tim was left to his rest. "`poor old tim,' no longer," said david to himself, when they were fairly started on their homeward way again. "happy tim, i ought to say. i wonder what he is doing now! he is one of `the spirits of just men made perfect' by this time. i wonder how it seems to him up there," said david, looking far up into the blue above him. "it does seem past belief. i can't think of him but as a lame old man with a crutch, and there he is, up among the best of them, singing with a will, as he used to sing here, only with no drawbacks. it _is_ wonderful. think of old tim singing with john, and paul, and with king david himself. it is queer to think of it!" he had a good while to think of it, for his father was silent and preoccupied still. it had often happened before, that his father being busy with his own thoughts, david had to be content with silence, and with such amusement as he could get from the sights and sounds about him, and he had never found that very hard. but he had not been so much with him of late because of frank's visit, and he had so looked forward to the enjoyment he was to have to-day, that he could not help feeling a little aggrieved when half their way home had been accomplished without a word. "papa," said he, at last, "i wish frank had been here to-day--to hear your sermon, i mean." "i did not know that frank had an especial taste for sermons," said his father, smiling. "well, no, i don't think he has; but he would have liked that one--about the christian warfare, because we have been speaking about it lately." and then he went on to tell about the reading on sunday night, and about hobab and all that had been said about the "good warfare" and "the whole armour," and how interested frank had been. he told a little, too, about their conversation on the way to the station, and mr inglis could not but smile at their making "soldiers" of all the neighbours, and at their way of illustrating the idea to themselves. by and by david added: "i wish frank had heard what you said to-day about victory. it would have come in so well after the talk about the `soldiers' and fighting. he would have liked to hear about the victory." "yes," said his father, gravely; "it is pleasanter to hear of the victory than the conflict, but the conflict must come first, davie, my boy." "yes, papa, i know." "and, my boy, the first step to becoming a `soldier' is the enrolling of the name. and you know who said `he that is not for me is against me.' think what it would be to be found on the other side on the day when even death itself `shall be swallowed up in victory.'" david made no answer. it was not mr inglis's way to speak often in this manner to his children. he did not make every solemn circumstance in life the occasion for a personal lesson or warning to them, till they "had got used to it," as children say, and so heard it without heeding. so david could not just listen to his father's words, and let them slip out of his mind again as words of course. he could not put them aside, nor could he say, as some boys might have said at such a time, that he wished to be a soldier of christ and that he meant to try. for in his heart he was not sure that he wished to be a soldier of christ in the sense his father meant, and though he had sometimes said to himself that he meant to be one, it was sometime in the future--a good while in the future, and he would have been mocking himself and his father, too, if he had told him that he longed to enrol his name. so he sat beside him without a word. they had come by this time to the highest point of the road leading to gourlay centre, at least the highest point where the valley through which the gourlay river flowed could be seen; and of his own accord old don stood still to rest. he always did so at this point, and not altogether for his own pleasure, for mr inglis and david were hardly ever so pressed for time but that they were willing to linger a minute or two to look down on the valley and the hills beyond. the two villages could be seen, and the bridge, and a great many fine fields lying round the scattered farm-houses, and, beyond these, miles and miles of unbroken forest. david might travel through many lands and see no fairer landscape, but it did not please him to-night. there was no sunshine on it to-night, and he said to himself that it always needed sunshine. the grey clouds had gathered again, and lay in piled-up masses veiling the west, and the november wind came sweeping over the hills cold and keen. mr inglis shivered, and wrapped his coat closely about him, and david touched don impatiently. the drive had been rather a failure, he thought, and they might as well be getting home. but he had time for a good many troubled thoughts before they reached the bridge over the gourlay. "to enrol one's name." he had not done that, and that was the very first step towards becoming a soldier. "he that is not for me is against me." he did not like that at all. he would have liked to explain that so as to make it mean something else. he would have liked to make himself believe that there was some middle ground. "he that is not against me is for me." in one place it said that, and he liked it much better. he tried to persuade himself that he was not against christ. no, certainly he was not against him. but was he for him in the sense his father meant--in the sense that his father was for him, and his mother, and a good many others that came into his mind? had he deliberately enrolled his name as one of the great army whom christ would lead to victory? but then how could he do this? he could not do it, he said to himself. it was god's work to convert the soul, and had not his father said within the hour, "it is god that giveth the victory?" had he not said that salvation was all of grace from beginning to end--that it was a gift--"god's gift." what more could be said? but david knew in his heart that a great deal more could be said. he knew great as this gift was--full and free as it was, he had never asked for it--never really desired it. he desired to be saved from the consequences of sin, as who does not? but he did not long to be saved from sin itself and its power in the heart, as they must be whom god saves. he did not feel that he needed this. if he was not "for christ" in the sense his father and mother were for him, still the thought came back--surely he was _not_ against him; even though it might not be pleasant for him to think of giving up all for christ--to "take up his cross and follow him," still he was not "against him." oh! if there only were some other way! if people could enlist in a real army, and march away to fight real battles, as men used to do in the times when they fought for the cross and the possession of the holy sepulchre! "or, rather, as they seemed to be fighting for them," said david, with a sigh, for he knew that pride and envy and the lust for power, too often reigned in the hearts of them who in those days had christ's name and honour on their lips; and that the cause of the cross was made the means to the winning of unworthy ends. still, if one could only engage sincerely in some great cause with all their hearts, and labour and strive for it for christ's sake, it would be an easier way, he thought. or if he could have lived in the times of persecution, or in the times when christian men fought at once for civil and religious freedom! oh! that would have been grand! he would have sought no middle course then. he would have fought, and suffered, and conquered like a hero in such days as those. of course such days could never come back again, but if they could! and then he let his mind wander away in dreams, as to how if such times ever were to come back again, he would be strong and wise, and courageous for the right--how he would stand by his father, and shield his mother, and be a defence and protection to all who were weak or afraid. bad men should fear him, good men should honour--his name should be a watchword to those who were on the lord's side. it would never do to write down all the foolish thoughts that david had on his way home that afternoon. he knew that they were foolish, and worse than foolish, when he came out of them with a start as old don made his accustomed little demonstration of energy and speed as they came to the little hill by the bridge, not far from home. he knew that they were foolish, and he could not help glancing up into his father's face with a little confusion, as if he had known his thoughts all the time. "are you tired, papa?--and cold?" asked he. "i am a little cold. but here we are at home. it is always good to get home again." "yes," said david, springing down. "i am glad to get home." he had a feeling of relief which he was not willing to acknowledge even to himself. he could put away troubled thoughts now. indeed they went away of themselves without an effort, the moment jem hailed him from the house. they came again, however, when the children being all in bed, and his father not come down from the study, his mother asked him about old tim's funeral, and the people who were there, and what his father had said to them. he told her about it, and surprised her and himself too, by the clearness and accuracy with which he went over the whole address. he grew quite eager about it, and told her how the people listened, and how "you might have heard a pin fall" in the little pauses that came now and then. and when he had done, he said to her as he had said to his father: "i wish frank had been there to hear all that papa said about victory," and then, remembering how his father had answered him, his troubled thoughts came back again, and his face grew grave. "but it was good for you to hear it, davie," said his mother. "yes," said david, uneasily, thinking she was going to say more. but she did not, and he did not linger much longer down-stairs. he said he was tired and sleepy with his long drive in the cold, and he would go to bed. so carrying them with him, he went up-stairs, where jem was sleeping quite too soundly to be wakened for a talk, and they stayed with him till he went to sleep, which was not for a long time. they were all gone in the morning, however. a night's sleep and a morning brilliant with sunshine are quite enough to put painful thoughts out of the mind of a boy of fourteen--for the time, at least, and david had no more trouble with his, till miss bethia barnes, coming to visit them one afternoon, asked him about mr bent's funeral and the bearers and mourners, and about his father's text and sermon, and then they came back to him again. chapter four. miss bethia barnes was a plain and rather peculiar single woman, a good deal past middle age, who lived by herself in a little house about half way between the two village's. she was generally called aunt bethia by the neighbours, but she had not gained the title as some old ladies do, because of the general loving-kindness of their nature. she was a good woman and very useful, but she was not always very agreeable. to do just exactly right at all times, and in all circumstances, was the first wish of her heart; the second wish of her heart was, that everybody else should do so likewise, and she had fallen into the belief, that she was not only responsible for her own well-being and well-doing, but for that of all with whom she came in contact. of course it is right that each individual in a community should do what may be done to help all the rest to be good and happy. but people cannot be made good and happy against their own will, and miss bethia's advances in that direction were too often made in a way which first of all excited the opposition of the person she intended to benefit. this was almost always the case where the young people of the village were concerned. those who had known her long and well, did not heed her plain and sharp speaking, because of her kindly intentions, and it was known besides that her sharpest words were generally forerunners of her kindest deeds. but the young people did not so readily take these things into consideration, and she was by no means a favourite with them. so it is not surprising, that when she made her appearance one afternoon at the minister's house, david, who was there alone with little mary, was not very well pleased to see her. little mary was pleased. even aunt bethia had only sweet words for the pet and baby; and happily the child's pretty welcome, and then her delight over the little cake of maple sugar that miss bethia had brought her, occupied that lady's attention till david had time to smooth his face again. it helped him a little to think that his father and mother being away from home, their visitor might not stay long. he was mistaken, however. "i heard your father and mother had gone over to mrs spry's; but i had made my calculations for a visit here just now, and i thought i'd come. they'll be coming home to-night, i expect?" added she, as she untied her bonnet, and prepared herself to enjoy her visit. "yes," said david, hesitating. "they are coming home to-night--i think." he spoke rather doubtfully. he knew they had intended to come home, but it seemed to him just as if something would certainly happen to detain them if miss bethia were to stay. and besides it came into his mind that if she doubted about the time of their return, she would go and visit somewhere else in the village, and come back another time. that would be a much better plan, he thought, with a rueful glance at the book he had intended to enjoy all the afternoon. but miss bethia had quite other thoughts. "well, it can't be helped. they'll be home to-morrow if they don't come to-night; and i can have a visit with you and violet. i shall admire to!" said miss bethia, reassuringly, as a doubtful look passed over david's face. "violet is at school," said he, "and all the rest." "best place for them," said miss bethia. "where is debby?" "she has gone home for a day or two. her sister is sick." "she is coming back, is she? i heard your mother was going to try and get along without her this winter. that won't pay. `penny wise and pound foolish' that would be," said miss bethia. david said nothing to this. "better pay debby stone, and board her, too, than pay the doctor. ambition ain't strength. home-work, and sewing-machine, and parish visiting--that's burning the candle at both ends. that don't _ever_ pay." "mamma knows best what to do," said david, with some offence in his voice. "she knows better than you, i presume," said the visitor. "ah! yes. she knows well enough what is best. but the trouble is, folks can't always do what they know is best. we've got to do the best we can in _this_ world--and there's none of us too wise to make mistakes, at that. she got the washing done and the clothes sprinkled before she went, did she? pretty well for debby, so early in the week. letty ought to calculate to do this ironing for her mother. hadn't you better put on the flats and have them ready by the time she gets home from school?" "mamma said nothing about it," said david. "no, it ain't likely. but that makes no difference. letty ought to know without being told. put the flats on to heat, and i'll make a beginning. we'll have just as good a visit." david laughed. he could not help it. "a good visit," said he to himself. aloud he said something about its being too much trouble for miss bethia. "trouble for a friend is the best kind of pleasure," said she. "and don't you worry. your mother's clothes will bear to be looked at. patches ain't a sin these days, but the contrary. step a little spryer, can't you! we can visit all the same." it was miss bethia's way to take the reins in her own hand wherever she was, and david could not have prevented her if he had tried, which he did not. he could only do as he was bidden. in a much shorter time than debby would have taken, david thought, all preliminary arrangements were made, and miss bethia was busy at work. little mary stood on a stool at the end of the table, and gravely imitated her movements with a little iron of her own. "now this is what i call a kind of pleasant," said miss bethia. "now let's have a good visit before the children come home." "shall i read to you?" said david, a little at a loss as to what might be expected from him in the way of entertainment. "well--no. i can read to myself at home, and i would rather talk if you had just as lief." and she did talk on every imaginable subject, with very little pause, till she came round at last to old mr bent's death. "i'd have given considerable to have gone to the funeral," said she. "i've known timothy bent for over forty years, and i'd have liked to see the last of him. i thought of coming up to ask your papa if he wouldn't take me over when he went, but i thought perhaps your mamma would want to go. did she?" no, david said; he had driven his father over. "your papa preached, did he?" and then followed a great many questions about the funeral, and the mourners, and the bearers, and then about the text and the sermon. and then she added a hope that he "realised" the value of the privileges he enjoyed above others in having so many opportunities to hear his father preach. and when she said this, david knew that she was going to give him the "serious talking to" which she always felt it her duty to give faithfully to the young people of the families where she visited. they always expected it. davie and jem used to compare notes about these "talks," and used to boast to one another about the methods they took to prevent, or interrupt, or answer them, as the case might be. but when miss bethia spoke about mr bent and the funeral, it brought back the sermon and what his father had said to him on his way home, and all the troubled thoughts that had come to him afterwards. so instead of shrugging his shoulders, and making believe very busy with something else, as he had often done under miss bethia's threatening lectures, he sat looking out of the window with so grave a face, that she in her turn, made a little pause, of surprise, and watched him as she went on with her work. "yes," she went on in a little, "it is a great privilege you have, and that was a solemn occasion, a very solemn occasion--but you did not tell me the text." david told her the text and a good part of the sermon, too. he told it so well, and grew so interested and animated as he went on, that in a little miss bethia set down the flat-iron, and seated herself to listen. jem came in before he was through. "well! well! i feel just as if i had been to meeting," said miss bethia. "well done, davie!" said jem. "isn't our davie a smart boy, aunt bethia? i wish frank could have heard that." "yes, so i told papa," said david, gravely. "it is a great responsibility to have such privileges as you have, boys--" began miss bethia. "as davie has, you mean, miss bethia," said jem. "he goes with papa almost always--" "and as you have, too. take care that you don't neglect them, so that they may not rise up in judgment against you some day--" but miss bethia was obliged to interrupt herself to shake hands with violet, who came in with her little brother and sister. jem laughed at the blank look in his sister's face. "miss bethia has commenced your ironing for you," said he. "yes--i see. you shouldn't have troubled yourself about it, miss bethia." "i guess i know pretty well by this time what i should do, and what i should let alone," said miss bethia, sharply, not pleased with the look on violet's face, or the heartiness of her greeting. "it was your mother i was thinking of. i expect the heft of debby's work will fall on her." "debby will be back to-morrow or next day, i hope," said violet. "but it was very kind of you to do it, miss bethia, and i will begin in a minute." "you had better go to work and get supper ready, and get that out of the way; and by that time the starched clothes will be done, and you can do the rest. i expect the children want their supper by this time," said miss bethia. "yes, i dare say it would be better." violet was very good-tempered, and did not feel inclined to resent miss bethia's tone of command. and besides, she knew it would do no good to resent it, so she went away to put aside her books, and her out-of-door's dress, and miss bethia turned her attention to the boys again. "yes, that was a solemn sermon, boys, and, david, i am glad to see that you must have paid good attention to remember it so well. i hope it may do you good, and all who heard it." "our davie won't make a bad preacher himself, will he, miss bethia?" said jem. "he has about made up his mind to it now." "his making up his mind don't amount to much, one way or the other," said miss bethia. "boys' minds are soon made up, but they ain't apt to stay made up--not to anything but foolishness. that's my belief, and i've seen a good many boys at one time and another." "but that's not the way with our davie," said jem. "you wouldn't find many boys that would remember a sermon so well, and repeat it so well as he does. now would you, aunt bethia?" "nonsense, jem, that's enough," said davie. "he's chaffing, aunt bethia." "he's entirely welcome," said miss bethia, smiling grimly. "though i don't see anything funny in the idea of david's being a minister, or you either, for that matter." "funny! no. anything but funny! a very serious matter that would be," said jem. "we couldn't afford to have so many ministers in the family, miss bethia. i am not going to be a minister. i am going to make a lot of money and be a rich man, and then i'll buy a house for papa, and send davie's boys to college." they all laughed. "you may laugh, but you'll see," said jem. "i am not going to be a minister. hard work and poor pay. i have seen too much of that, miss bethia." he was "chaffing" her. miss bethia knew it quite well, and though she had said he was entirely welcome, it made her angry because she could not see the joke, and because she thought it was not respectful nor polite on jem's part to joke with her, as indeed it was not. and besides this was a sore subject with miss bethia--the poverty of ministers. she had at one time or another spent a great many of her valuable words on those who were supposed to be influential in the guidance of parish affairs, with a design to prove that their affairs were not managed as they ought to be. there was no reason in the world, but shiftlessness and sinful indifference, to prevent all being made and kept straight between the minister and people as regarded salary and support, she declared, and it was a shame that a man like their minister should find himself pressed or hampered, in providing the comforts-- sometimes the necessaries of life--for his family. that was putting it strong, the authorities thought and said, but miss bethia never would allow that it was too strong, and she never tired of putting it. "the labourer is worthy of his hire." "they that serve the temple must live by the temple." and with a house to keep up and his children to clothe and feed, no wonder that mr inglis might be troubled many a time when he thought of how they were to be educated, and of what was to become of them in case he should be taken away. there was no theme on which miss bethia was so eloquent as this, and she was eloquent on most themes. she never tired of this one, and answered all excuses and expostulations with a force and sharpness that, as a general thing, silenced, if they did not convince. whether she helped her cause by this assertion of its claims, is a question. she took great credit for her faithfulness in the matter, at any rate, and as she had not in the past, so she had made up her mind that she should not in the future be found wanting in this respect. but it was one thing to tell her neighbours their duty with regard to their minister, and it was quite another thing to listen to a lad like jem making disparaging remarks as to a minister's possessions and prospects. "hard work and poor pay," said jem, and she felt very much like resenting his words, as a reflection on the people of whom she was one. jem needed putting down. "your pa wouldn't say so. he ain't one to wish to serve two masters. he ain't a mammon worshipper," said miss bethia, solemnly. "no!" said jem, opening his eyes very wide. "and i don't intend to be one either. i intend to make a good living, and perhaps become a rich man." "don't, jem," said violet, softly. she meant "don't vex miss bethia," as jem very well knew, but he only laughed and said: "don't do what? become a rich man? or a worshipper of mammon? don't be silly, letty." "jem's going to be a blacksmith," said edward. "you needn't laugh. he put a shoe on mr strong's old jerry the other day. i saw him do it." "pooh," said jem. "that's nothing. anybody could do that. i am going to make a steam-engine some day." "you're a smart boy, if we are to believe you," said miss bethia. "did mr strong know that the blacksmith let you meddle with his horse's shoes? i should like to have seen his face when he heard it." "one must begin with somebody's horse, you know. and peter munro said he couldn't have done it better himself," said jem, triumphantly. "peter munro knows about horseshoes, and that's about all he does know. he ought to know that you might be about better business than hanging about his shop, learning no good." "horseshoes no good!" said jem, laughing. "jem, dear!" pleaded violet. "but it's dreadful to hear miss bethia speak disrespectfully of horseshoes," said jem. "i think there's something more to be expected from your father's son than horseshoes," said miss bethia. "but horseshoes may do for a beginning," said david. "and by and by, perhaps, it may be engines, and railways; who knows?" "and good horseshoes are better than bad sermons, and they pay better than good ones," said jem. "and i'm bound to be a rich man. you'll see, miss bethia." then he went on to tell of the wonderful things that were to happen when he became a rich man. old don was to be superannuated, and his father was to have a new horse, and a new fur coat to wear when the weather was cold. his mother and violet were to have untold splendours in the way of dress, and the children as well. davie was to go to college, and there should be a new bell to the church, and a new fence to the grave-yard, and miss bethia was to have a silk gown of any colour she liked, and a knocker to her front door. there was a great deal of fun and laughter, in which even miss bethia joined, and when violet called them to tea, jem whispered to david that they had escaped her serious lecture for that time. after tea, they all went again to the kitchen, which, indeed, was as pleasant as many parlours, and while violet washed the tea-dishes, miss bethia went on with the ironing, and the boys went on with their lessons. just as they were all beginning to wonder what could be delaying the return home of their father and mother, there came a messenger to say that they had been obliged to go much farther than mr spry's, to see a sick person, and that as they might not be home that night, the children were not to wait for them past their usual time of going to bed. there were exclamations of disappointment from the younger ones, and little mary, who was getting sleepy and a little cross, began to cry. "i had a presentiment that we should not see them to-night," said david, taking his little sister on his lap to comfort her. "never mind, polly. mamma will be home in the morning, and we must be able to tell her that we have all been good, and that nobody has cried or been cross, but quite the contrary." "i wish your mother knew that i had happened along. it would have set her mind at rest about you all," said miss bethia. the young people were not so sure of that, but there would have been no use in saying so. "oh! mamma knows we can get on nicely for one night. but she will be sorry to miss your visit, miss bethia," said violet. "she won't miss it. i shall have a visit with her when she gets home. and now hadn't you better put the children to bed before you set down?" but the children, except little mary, were in the habit of putting themselves to bed, and were not expected to do so till eight o'clock, as they declared with sufficient decision. so nothing more was said about it. if it had been any other child but little mary. miss bethia would have counselled summary measures with her, and she would have been sent to bed at once. as it was the little lady had her own way for a while, and kept her eyes wide open, while david comforted her for the absence of mamma. he played with her and told her stories, and by and by undressed her gently, kissing her hands and her little bare feet, and murmuring such tender words, that baby grew good and sweet, and forgot that there was any one in the world she loved better than davie. as for miss bethia, as she watched them she was wondering whether it could be the rough, thoughtless schoolboy, to whom she had so often considered it her duty to administer both instruction and reproof. she was not, as a general thing, very tolerant of boys. she intended to do her duty by the boys of her acquaintance in the matter of rebuke and correction, and in the matter of patience and forbearance as well, and these things covered the whole ground, as far as her relations with boys were concerned. and so when she saw david kissing his little sister's hands and feet, and heard him softly prompting her in her "good words" as the eyelids fell over the sleepy little eyes, she experienced quite a new sensation. she looked upon a boy with entire approval. he had pleased her in the afternoon, when he had told her so much about his father's sermon. but she had hardly been conscious of her pleasure then, because of the earnestness of her desire to impress him and his brother with a sense of their responsibility as to the use they made of their privileges and opportunities. it came back to her mind, however, as she sat watching him and his little sister, and she acknowledged to herself that she was pleased, and that david was not a common boy. david would never have guessed her thoughts by the first words she spoke. "put her to bed," said she. "she'll take cold." "yes, i will," said david, but he did not move to do it. "miss bethia," said he in a little, "if wee polly were to die to-night and go to heaven, do you suppose she would always stay a little child as she is now?" miss bethia set down her flat-irons and looked at him in surprise. "what on earth put that into your head?" said she, hastily. "look at her," said david. "it doesn't seem as though she could be any sweeter even in heaven, does it?" violet came and knelt down beside her brother. "is she not a precious darling?" said she, kissing her softly. "it isn't much we know about how folks will look in heaven," said miss bethia, gravely. "no," said david. "only that we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." "if we ever get there," said miss bethia. "yes, if we ever get there," said david. "but if our little polly were to die to-night, she would be sure to get there, and what i would like to know is, whether she would always be little polly there, so that when the rest of us get there, too, we should know her at once without being told." "she would have a new name given her," said violet. "yes, and a crown and a harp, and a white robe, and wings, perhaps. but she might have all that and be our little polly still. i wonder how it will be. what do you think, miss bethia?" "i haven't thought about it. i don't seem to remember that there is anything said about it in the bible. and there is no other way of knowing anything about it--as i see." "no. still one cannot but think of these things. don't you remember, violet? "not as child shall we again behold her, but when with rapture wild. in our embraces we again enfold her, she will not be a child." "yes." violet remembered the words, and added: "but a fair maiden in our father's mansion." "i don't like to think that may be the way." "but that ain't in the bible," said miss bethia. "no," said david. "and i like best the idea of there being little children there. of course there are children now, because they are going there every day. but if they grow up there--afterwards, when the end comes, there will be no little children." "how you talk!" said aunt bethia. "i don't more than half believe that it's right for you to follow out such notions. if the bible don't say any thing about it, it is a sign it's something we needn't worry about, for we don't need to know it." "no, we don't need to worry about it," said david. "but one cannot help having such thoughts in their minds sometimes." there was nothing more said for some time. violet still knelt by her brother's side, and the eyes of both were resting on the baby's lovely face. it was miss bethia who spoke first. "i was a twin. my sister died when she was three years old. i remember how she looked as well as i remember my mother's face, and she didn't die till i was over forty. i should know her in a minute if i were to see her. it would seem queer to see us together--twins so--wouldn't it?--she a child and me an old woman," said miss bethia, with something like a sob in her voice. "it will be all in her favour--the difference, i mean." "`whom the gods love die young,'" said david. "but that is a pagan sentiment. papa said, the other day, that victory must mean more to the man who has gone through the war, than to him who has hardly had time to strike a blow. even before the victory it must be grand, he said, to be able to say like paul, `i have fought the good fight; i have kept the faith.' and, perhaps, miss bethia, your crown may be brighter than your little sister's, after all." "it will owe none of its brightness to me," said miss bethia, with sudden humility. "and i don't suppose i shall begrudge the brightness of other folks' crowns when i get there, if i ever do." in the pause that followed, david went and laid the baby in her cot, and when he returned the children came with him, and the talk went on. they all had something to say about what they should see and do, and the people they should meet with when they got there. but it would not bear repeating, all that they said, and they fell in a little while into talk of other things, and jem, as his way was, made the little ones laugh at his funny sayings, and even violet smiled sometimes. but david was very grave and quiet, and miss bethia, for a good while, did not seem to hear a word, or to notice what was going on. but by and by something was said about the lessons of the next day, and she roused herself up enough to drop her accustomed words about "privileges and responsibilities," and then went on to tell how different every thing had been in her young days, and before she knew it she was giving them her own history. there was not much to tell. that is, there had been few incidents in her life, but a great deal of hard work, many trials and disappointments--and many blessings as well. "and," said aunt bethia, "if i were to undertake, i couldn't always tell you which was which. for sometimes the things i wished most for, and worked hardest to get, didn't amount to but very little when i got them. and the things i was most afraid of went clear out of sight, or turned right round into blessings, as soon as i came near enough to touch them. and i tell you, children, there is nothing in the world that it's worth while being afraid of but sin. you can't be too much afraid of that. it is a solemn thing to live in the world, especially such times as these. but there's no good talking. each one must learn for himself; and it seems as though folks would need to live one life, just to teach them how to live. i don't suppose there's any thing i could say to you that would make much difference. talk don't seem to amount to much, any way." "i am sure you must have seen a great deal in your life, miss bethia, and might tell us a great many things to do us good," said violet, but she did not speak very enthusiastically, for she was not very fond of miss bethia's good advice any more than her brothers; and little jessie got them happily out of the difficulty, by asking: "what did you use to do when you were a little girl, aunt bethia?" "pretty much what other little girls did. we lived down in new hampshire, then, and what ever made father come away up here for, is more than i can tell. i had a hard time after we came up here. i helped father and the boys to clear up our farm. i used to burn brush, and make sugar, and plant potatoes and corn, and spin and knit. i kept school twenty-one seasons, off and on. i didn't know much, but a little went a great way in those days. i used to teach six days in the week, and make out a full week's spinning or weaving, as well. i was strong and smart then, and ambitious to make a living and more. after a while, my brothers moved out west, and i had to stay at home with father and mother, and pretty soon mother died. i have been on the old place ever since. it is ten years since father died. i've stayed there alone most of the time since, and i suppose i shall till my time comes. and children, i've found out that life don't amount to much, except as it is spent as a time of preparation--and for the chance it gives you to do good to your neighbours; and it ain't a great while since i knew that, only as i heard folks say it. it ain't much i've done of it." there was nothing said for a minute or two, and then ned made them all laugh by asking, gravely: "miss bethia, are you very rich?" miss bethia laughed, too. "why, yes; i suppose i may say i am rich. i've got all i shall ever want to spend, and more, too. i've got all i want, and that's more than most folks who are called rich can say. and i have earned all i've got. but it ain't what one has got, so much as what one has done, that makes life pleasant to look back upon." "it is pleasant to have plenty of money, too, however," said jem. "and people can do good with their money," said violet. "yes, that is true; but money don't stand for everything, even to do good with. money won't stand instead of a life spent in god's service. money, even to do good with, is a poor thing compared with that. money won't go a great ways in the making of happiness, without something else." "would you like to live your life over again, miss bethia?" asked violet. "no--i shouldn't. not unless i could live it a great deal better. and i know myself too well by this time to suppose i should do that. it wouldn't pay, i don't believe. but oh! children, it is a grand thing to be young, to have your whole life before you to give to the lord. you can't begin too young. boys, and you, too, violet--you have great privileges and responsibilities." this was miss bethia's favourite way of putting their duty before them. she had said this about "privilege and responsibility" two or three times to-night already, as the boys knew she would. it had come to be a by-word among them. but even jem did not smile this time, she was so much in earnest, and violet and david looked very grave. "`fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life.' that's what you've got to do. `take the whole armour of god,' and fight his battles." the boys looked at each other, remembering all that had been said about this of late. "your father said right. it is a grand thing to come to the end of life and be able to say, `i have fought the good fight; i have kept the faith.'" "like mr great heart in the pilgrim's progress," said ned. "yes. sometimes it's lions, and sometimes it's giants, but it's fighting all the way through, and god gives the victory. yes," continued miss bethia, after a pause, "it's fighting all the way through, and it don't so much matter how it looks to other folks. horseshoes or sermons, it don't matter, so that it is done to the lord. your father, he is a standard-bearer; and your mother, she helps the lord's cause by helping him, and so she fights the good fight, too. there's enough for all to do, and the sooner you begin, the more you can do, and the better it will be--and i'm sure it's time these children were in bed now." yes, it was more than time, as all acknowledged, but they did not go very willingly for all that. "obedience is the first duty of a soldier, ned, boy," said jem. "if we could only know that we were soldiers," said david, gravely; and then he added to himself, "the very first thing is to enrol one's name." "i wonder all the girls don't like aunt bethia more," said jessie, when violet came up to take her candle in a little. "i'm sure she's nice-- sometimes." "yes, she is always very good, and to-night she is pleasant," said violet. "and i'm not at all sorry that she came, though mamma is away. good-night, dear, and pleasant dreams." upon the whole, miss bethia's visit was a success. mr and mrs inglis came home next day to find her and little mary in possession of the house. david was waiting to receive them at the gate, and all the others had gone to school. violet had proposed to stay at home to entertain their guest, but this miss bethia would not hear of. the baby and she were quite equal to the entertainment of one another, to say nothing of david, upon whom miss bethia was evidently beginning to look with eyes of favour. they had not got tired of one another when mamma came to the rescue, and nothing mattered much either to david or his little sister when mamma was at hand. mr inglis was almost ill with a cold; too ill to care to go to his study and his books that day, but not too ill to lie on the sofa and talk with--or rather listen to, miss bethia. this was a great pleasure to her, for she had a deep respect for the minister, and indeed, the respect was mutual. so they discussed parish matters a little; and all the wonderful things that were happening in the world, they discussed a good deal. there was a new book, too, which miss bethia had got--a very interesting book to read, but of whose orthodoxy she could not be quite sure till she had discussed it with the minister. there were new thoughts in it, and old thoughts clothed in unfamiliar language, and she wanted his help in comparing it with the only standard of truth in the opinion of both. so the first day was successful, and so were all the other days of her visit, though in a different way. there were no signs of debby's return, but mrs inglis had, in the course of her married life, been too often left to her own resources to make this a matter of much consequence for a few days. the house was as orderly, and the meals were as regular; and though some things in the usual routine were left undone because of debby's absence and miss bethia's presence in the house, still everything went smoothly, and all the more so that miss bethia, who had had a varied experience in the way of long visits, knew just when to sit still and seem to see nothing, and when to put forth a helping hand. her visits, as a general thing, were not without some drawbacks, and if mrs inglis had had her choice, she would have preferred that this one should have taken place when debby's presence in the kitchen would have left her free to attend to her guest. but this was a visit altogether pleasant. there was not even the little jarring and uncomfortableness, rather apt to arise out of her interest in the children, and her efforts in their behalf. not that she neglected them or their affairs. david, of whom she saw most, had a feeling that her eye was upon him whenever he was in the house, but her observation was more silent than usual, and even when she took him to task, as she did more than once, he did not for some reason or other, feel inclined to resent her sharp little speeches as he had sometimes done. she did not overlook him by any means, but asked a great many questions about his books, and lessons, and amusements, and about when he was going to college, and about what he was to be afterwards, and behind his back praised him to his mother as a sensible, well-behaved boy, which, of course, pleased his mother, and made david himself laugh heartily when he heard of it. still, though her visit had been most agreeable, it was pleasant to be alone again, when it came to an end, and little jessie expressed what the others only thought when she said: "it's nice to have miss bethia come once in a while, and it's nice to have her go away, too." debby did not come back, but everything went on as nearly as possible as usual in her absence. they hoped to have her again, by and by, so no effort was made to supply her place. if she could not come back, violet would possibly have to stay at home after the christmas holidays to help in the house, and in the meantime, david did what "a sensible, well-behaved boy" might be expected to do, to supply her place. and that was a great deal. david was a manly boy, and he was none the less manly that he did a great many things for his mother, that boys are not generally supposed to like to do. what those things were, need not be told, lest boys not so sensible, should call his manliness in question, and so lose their interest in him. indeed, it must be confessed that, sensible boy as he was, david himself had some doubts as to the manliness of some of the work that fell to him to do about this time, and did not care that his morning's occupations should be alluded to often, before jem and ned. but he had no doubt as to the help and comfort he was to his mother during these days, when she needed both even more than he knew. it is a manly thing in a boy to be his mother's "right hand," and david was that, and more than that, during these happy days, when they were so much alone together. for they were happy days to them all. in spite of work and weariness, and anxiety, and a sudden sharp dread of something else harder to bear than these, that came now and then to one at least of the household, they were very happy days to them all. chapter five. winter came early this year. even before november was out, the sleigh-bells were merrily ringing through all the country, and during december more snow fell than had fallen during that month at any time within the memory of "the oldest inhabitant." and after the snow came the wind, tossing it hither and thither, and piling up mountainous drifts in the hollows through which the north gore road passed, before it crossed hardscrabble hill. it piled it up on hardscrabble, too, and on all the hills, so that even if mr inglis had been quite well, he could hardly have made it the busiest season of the year in the way of visiting his parishioners, as it was his custom to do. for usually, at this time, the farmers may enjoy something besides work, the busy season being over; and usually, too, the new farms and back settlements are easy of access, when the ground is frozen and just enough of snow has fallen to cover the roughness of the way. but this year, too much snow had fallen, so that for weeks, there were in some places, no roads at all; and over others, what with the drifts, and what with the difficulty in the sleighs passing one another where the roads were narrow, it would not have been pleasant, or even safe, to go. mr inglis would have tried it, doubtless, if he had been quite well, but the cold he had taken on the stormy night when old mr bent died, had never quite left him. he did not call himself ill, though his nights were restless, and his days languid, and if the weather had been fine, he would have gone out as usual; but the snow that had fallen, and was still falling, and the wind that roared and whistled, as it piled it up in the hollows and on the hill-sides, helped to make him content to stay at home and rest. it was rest he needed. he was not ill--only tired, so tired that he did not care during this time of leisure, to pursue the studies that he loved so well, and, for the most part, david read to him. these were happy days to david. generally in the quiet afternoons, when the children were at school, they were down-stairs in mamma's room, and mamma listened to the reading, too, with little mary playing out and in of the room beside them. but on the long evenings they usually sat up-stairs in the study, with mamma coming up to see them only now and then. sometimes there was no reading, and david went on with his lessons as usual, while his father lay on the sofa with closed eyes, thinking over the wonderful truths he wished to speak to the people when the sabbath came round again. sometimes when the children, and even the mother, weary with the day's cares and labours, had gone to rest, david sat with his father far into the night. a prey to the restless wakefulness which, for the time, seems worse to bear than positive illness, mr inglis dreaded his bed, and david was only too glad to be allowed to sit with him. sometimes he read to him, but oftener they talked, and david heard a great many things about his father's life, that he never would have heard but for this time. his father told him about his early home, and his brothers and sisters, and their youthful joys and sorrows--how dearly they had loved one another, and how he had mourned their loss. he told him about his mamma in her girlhood, as she was when he first knew her, how they had loved one another, and how she had blessed all his life till now, and nothing that his father told him filled david's heart with such wonder and pleasure, as did this. and when he added, one night, that to him--her first-born son--his mother must always trust, as her strength and "right hand," he could only find voice to say "of course, papa," for the joyful throbbing of his heart. david used to tell violet and jem some things that his father spoke about, at such times, but this he never told. he mused over it often in the dark, with smiles and happy tears upon his face, and told himself that his mother's strength and "right hand," he would ever be, but it never came into his mind that the time might be drawing near which was to give significance to his father's words. and so the last weeks of the year passed slowly away. mr inglis preached on sunday as usual, every sunday at the village, and every alternate sunday at the mills and at north gore. he was quite able to do it, he thought, and though he had restless nights and languid days still, he called himself much better at the beginning of the year, and everything went on as usual in the house. in the village there began to be whispers that it was time for the annual "donation visit" to the minister's family, and certain worthy and wise people, upon whom much of the prosperity of the town was supposed to depend, laid their heads together to consult as to how this visit might be made successful in every respect--a visit to be remembered beyond all other visits, for the pleasure and profit it was to bring. but before this--before the old year had come to an end, something else had happened--something that was considered a great event in the inglis family. they had had several letters from frank oswald since his going home, but one day there came a parcel as well, and this, when opened, was found to contain a good many things which were to be accepted by the young inglises as christmas gifts. these were very nice, and very satisfactory, as a general thing, but they need not be specified. that which gave more satisfaction to each than all the other things put together, was marked, "with frank's love to aunt mary." and if he had searched through all the city for a gift, he could have found nothing that would have pleased her half so well. for added to her pleasure in receiving was the better pleasure of giving. the present was what she had been wishing for two or three winters past--a fur coat for her husband. it was not a very handsome coat. that is, it was not one of those costly garments, which sometimes rich men purchase and wear, quite as much for appearance as for comfort. it was the best of its kind, however; well made and impervious to the cold, if a coat could be made so; and when papa put it on and buttoned it round him, there were many exclamations of admiration and delight. "we need not be afraid of hardscrabble winds any more, papa," said david. "i should think not. `blow winds and crack your cheeks,'" said jem, laughing. little mary was more than half inclined to be afraid of her papa in his unaccustomed garb, but ned laughed at her, and made her look at violet, who was passing her hand over the soft fur, caressing it as if she loved it; and jessie made them all laugh by telling them that when she became a rich woman, she meant to send a fur coat to all the ministers. it is possible that some young people, and even some people not young, may smile, and be a little contemptuous over the idea of so much interest and delight in so small a matter. it can only be said of them, that there are some things happening every day in the world, that such people don't know of, and cannot be supposed to understand. that a good woman should have to plan and wait one season, and then another, for the garment much desired--absolutely necessary for the health and comfort of her husband, need not surprise any one. it has happened to other than ministers' wives many a time, i suppose. i know it has happened to some of _them_. it happened once, certainly, in the experience of mrs inglis, and her delight in frank's present was as real, though not so freely expressed, as was that of her children. it came with less of drawback than usually comes with the receiving of such a present. it came from one whom they believed quite able to give it, and from one whom they knew to be speaking the thought of his heart, when he said that the pleasure of his son frank--whose present he wished it to be considered--was greater in giving it than theirs could possibly be in receiving it. then there were thanks for their kindness to his boy, and hopes expressed that the two families would come to know more of each other in the future than had seemed possible in the past, and, altogether, it was a nice letter to send and to receive in the circumstances. but few pleasures are quite unmixed in this world. even while mrs inglis was rejoicing over her husband's future comfort, and the removal of her own anxiety with regard to it, she could not but say to herself, as she watched his flushed face and languid movements, "if it had only come a little sooner!" but she did not spoil the enjoyment of the rest by uttering her thoughts. indeed, she was displeased with herself, calling herself unthankful and unduly anxious, and sought with earnestness to put them out of her mind. there was something else in the letter sent by mr oswald, which, for the present, the father and mother did not think it necessary to discuss with the children. this was the offer made to them for david, of the situation as junior clerk in the bank of which mr oswald was managing director. there was no immediate necessity of deciding about the matter, as the place would not be vacant till spring, and the father and mother determined to take time to look at the matter in all its lights, before they said anything about it to david. he was already nearly fitted to enter the university, and they hoped that some time or other, means would be found to send him there; but he was too young to enter at once, and, also, he was too young and boyish-looking, to hope for a long time yet to be able to earn means to help himself, as so many students are able to do, by teaching in the public schools. so it seemed likely that this situation might be the very thing they could wish for him for the next few years. however, there were many things to be considered with regard to it. it might unsettle him from his eager pursuit of his studies, and from the cheerful doing of his other duties, were anything to be said about his leaving home just now. so they were silent, and the old year went out, and the new year came in, and everything went on as usual, till the time for the donation visit drew near. donation visits ought to be pleasant occasions to all concerned, for we have the very highest authority as to the blessedness of giving, and only mean and churlish natures will refuse to accept graciously what is graciously bestowed. that they often fail to be so, arises less frequently from the lack of "graciousness" on the part of either pastor or people, than from the fact that the principle on which they are often undertaken is a mistaken one--the design to thus supplement some acknowledged deficiency in the matter of the minister's salary. it often happens that the people regard as a gift, what their pastor and his family accept as their right, and thus both parties are defrauded of the mutual benefits which are the result of obligations cheerfully conferred and gratefully received. the parish of gourlay was very much like other parishes, in regard to these matters. they were not a rich people. the salary of their minister was moderately liberal, considering their means, but it was scant enough considering the requirements of the minister's family. it was not very regularly, nor very promptly paid; still, in one form or other, the stipulated amount generally found its way to the minister's house in the course of the year. so that the donation visit was not made for the purpose of making up a deficiency in the salary agreed on, but rather as an acknowledgment on the part of some of the people that the salary agreed upon was not sufficient, and as a token of good-will on the part of all. if it had occurred to the people to put their expression of good-will in the form of increased salary, it would doubtless have been more agreeable to mr inglis. still, he knew that more could be done on an occasion of this kind, with less inconvenience to that part of the people who were most liberal, than could be done in the legitimate way of annual subscriptions, and he had, on the whole, sufficient confidence in their kindly feeling to prevent any very painful sense of obligation in receiving their gifts, and no expression of any such feeling was ever permitted to mar the enjoyment of the occasion, as far as the people were concerned. in short, the minister and his wife had come to consider the annual donation visit, as one of those circumstances in life out of which pain or pleasure may be gotten, according as they are made the worst or the best of by those most concerned; and as they had been making the best of them for a good many years now, they were justified in looking forward to a reasonable amount of enjoyment from this one. as for the children, they did not think of anything but enjoyment in connection with it. to them the overturning of all things in the house, up-stairs and down, which was considered a necessary part of the preparations, was great fun. some overturning was absolutely necessary for the entertainment of about a third more people than the house could conveniently hold. so there was the putting aside all brittle articles, the shoving of tables and bureaus into corners, the taking down of beds, and the arranging of seats over all the house. for all the house must be thrown open, and the result was confusion, certainly not so delightful to the mother as to the children. the prospect of the crowd was delightful to them, too, and so were the possibilities in the way of presents. besides the staples, butter, cheese, flannel, oats, and indian meal, there was a possibility of something particular and personal to every one of them--chickens, or mittens, or even a book. once jem had got a jack-knife, and david a year of "the youth's companion." last year violet had got a new dress from mrs smith, and jem a pair of boots. very good boots they had been--they were not bad yet, but the thought of them was not altogether agreeable to jem. however nice the boots, the being reminded of the gift by master smith, and that before all the boys at school, and more than once, was not at all nice; and jem had to look back with mingled shame and triumph on a slight passage of arms that had been intended to put an end to that sort of thing on master smith's part. there was no danger, he thought, of getting any more boots from mrs smith, and all the people were not like her and her son. out of this trouble about the boots had arisen in jem's mind some serious misgivings as to the entire desirableness of donation visits. david and violet had had them before, but they were not so ready to speak of these things as jem was; or rather as jem would have been if his conscience had been quite clear as regarded the matter of master smith. "there would be no good in troubling mamma with it," said jem, and so there had been no exciting of one another by foolish talking; and, indeed, their misgivings had neither been of a depth nor of a nature to spoil the prospect of the visit to them. great fun was anticipated as usual. debby, though her sister was by no means well yet, came back to assist in the general confusion. "there shall be no talk of `allowances' this time," said debby; and cellar and garret, pantry, cupboard, and closet, were all put through such a process of purifying and arranging, that not the neatest house-keeper in gourlay could have the least chance or excuse for hinting that any "allowances" were needed. debby's honour as a house-keeper was at stake, to say nothing of the honour of mrs inglis. "it seems as natural as possible to get back to the old spot," said debby; "and i wish to goodness sister serepta would get well, or do something else. i mean, i wish she would go and stay to uncle jason's, or have aunt myra come and stay with her. i'm thankful your ma's got along so far, without any of those shiftless simmses or martins in to help her. but she's looking a kind of used up, ain't she? and it beats all how your pa's cold hangs on, don't it?" "oh! papa is much better," said david, eagerly, "and mamma is quite well. she is tired, but now you are here, she just lets things go, and rests. she knows it will be all right." "that's so," said debby, "and she can't do better." and, indeed, she could not. her affairs were in good hands. debby was "as smart as a trap," and capable of anything in the way of house-keeping duties. and though not blessed with the mildest temper-- people "as smart as traps" seldom are--she had the faculty of adapting herself to circumstances, and of identifying herself with the family in which she lived, in a way that stood in stead of a good deal. she was quite too smart for the patient endurance of the whims of a nervous invalid, and found positive refreshment in the present bustle and hurry, and was inclined not only to be agreeable, but confidential on the occasion. "it's to be hoped it will amount to something this time," said she. "all this fuss and worry ought not to go for nothing, that's a fact. it would suit better all round, if they'd pay your pa at first, and have done with it. i don't believe in presents myself--not till folks' debts are paid at any rate," said debby, looking at the subject from the minister's family's point of view. "but i ain't going to begin on that. miss bethia--she's been letting in the light on some folks' mind, but as this visit has got to be, i only hope we'll get enough to pay us for our trouble; and i wish it were well over." the eventful evening came at last. it would be quite impossible to give here a full and clear account of all that was said and done, and given and received that night. it was a very successful visit, whether considered socially, or with reference to the results in the way of donations. afterwards--a good while afterwards--they all used to think and speak of it as a delightful visit indeed. it was not without its little drawbacks, but on the whole, it was a delightful visit even at the time, and afterwards all drawbacks were forgotten. jem had a little encounter with mrs smith, which he did not enjoy much at the moment, but which did not spoil the remembrance of it to him. she did not seem to resent his conduct about the boots. on the contrary, she placed him under still further obligations to her by presenting him with the "makings" of a jacket, which jem accepted shamefacedly, but still gratefully enough, quite forgetting the dignified resolution he had confided to david, to decline all further favours from her with thanks. david enjoyed the evening for the same reasons that all the rest enjoyed it, and so did violet, and for another reason besides. for the very first time, she was spoken to, and treated as if she were a grown-up young lady, and a little girl no longer. this was delightful to violet, who, though she was nearly sixteen, was small of her age, and had always been one of the children like all the rest. it was old mrs kerr, from the gore corner, who spoke to her about it first. "a great help you must be to your mother with the house-keeping, and with the children and all," said that nice old lady. "it's a fine thing to have a grown-up daughter in the house. only the chances are you'll just go and leave her, as mine have done." violet smiled, and blushed, and was conscience-stricken, not at the thought of going away to leave her mother one day, as mrs kerr's daughters had done, but because she knew she had never really been much help to her mother either at the sewing or the house-keeping--not half so much as davie had been since debby went away. for letty was very fond of her books, and, indeed, her duty as well as her inclination had encouraged her devotion to them, at least until lately; but she was inclined to confess her faults to the old lady, lest she should think of her what was not true. "never mind. it will come in good time. and there's small blame to you for liking the books best, since you're your father's child, as well as your mother's," said mrs kerr, kindly. "and, indeed, they say folk can make hard work at the books, as well as at other things, and there's no fear of you, with your mother to teach you the other things, and you growing so womanly and big withal." it was a very successful visit in every way. there never had been so many people present on such an occasion before; there never had been so many nice things brought and eaten. the coffee was good, and so was the tea, and the singing. the young people had a good time together, and so had the old people. the donations were of greater value than usual, and when he presented the money part of it to mr inglis, mr spry made a speech, which would have been very good "if he had known when he had done, and stopped," debby said, and the rest thought it was not bad as it was. and the minister certainly made a good speech when he received it. he did not use many words in thanking the people for their gifts, but they were just the right words, and "touched the spot," debby said to miss bethia, who agreed. and then he went on to say what proved to these two, and to them all, that there was something for which he cared more than he cared for what they had to give. and they all remembered afterwards, though no one missed them at the time, that the few playful words that he was wont to address to the young men and maidens of the congregation on such occasions, were not spoken, but the words he did speak to them were such as some of them will never forget while they live. it was all over at last, and the tired household was left to rest, and they awoke to a comfortless house next day. the boys helped to take out the boards and benches that had been used as seats, and to move back to their places the furniture that had been removed, and then the children went to school. violet offered to stay at home and help to arrange the house, but debby declared herself equal to the clearing up, and was not complimentary in her remarks as to her skill and ability in such matters, so letty, nothing loth, went away with the rest. it was an uncomfortable day. mr inglis had taken more cold, at least his cough was worse, and he stayed up-stairs in his study, and david was glad when the time came that he could stay there too. however, there came order out of the confusion at last. it was a good job well over, debby declared, and all agreed with her. "i hate to go as bad as you hate to have me," said she, in answer to letty's lamentations over her departure. "i don't know but your mother had better have one of those shiftless simmses than nobody at all. there's considerable many steps to be taken in this house, as nobody knows better than me; and i hadn't the responsibility of mother's meetings, and worrying over your pa, as she has. if i were you, i'd take right hold and help, and never mind about going to school, and examination, and such, for your ma's got more than she ought to do. i must try and doctor serepta up, so as to get back again, or there'll be something to pay. well, good-bye! i'll be down next week, if i can fix it so, to see how you're getting along." letty stood looking after her disconsolately. to stay at home from school, and give up all thoughts of prizes at the coming examination, were among the last things she would like to do, to say nothing of the distasteful housework. still, if her mother needed her, she ought to do it, and she made up her mind to do it cheerfully if it must be. but she did not need to do it. it was of more importance that she should get on with her studies, so as to be ready to do her duty as a teacher by and by, than that she should help at home just now, her mother thought, and so for a few weeks longer, everything went on as before. david helped his mother still, doing with skill and success a great many things which at first he had not liked to do at all. he did not get on with his studies as he would have wished, partly because he had less time than usual, and partly because his father was less able to interest himself in what he was doing. david sometimes grumbled a little to jem about it, because he feared he should not find himself so far before ned hunter at the end of the year, as he wished to be; and once he said something of the kind to his mother. but that was a very small matter, in her opinion. "for after all, davie, my boy, the greek, and latin, and mathematics you are so eager for, are chiefly valuable to you as a means of discipline-- as a means of preparing you for the work that is before you in the world. and i am not sure but that the discipline of little cares and uncongenial work that has come upon you this winter, may answer the purpose quite as well. at any rate, the wish to get on with your studies for the sake of excelling ned hunter, is not very creditable." "no, mamma. but still i think it is worth something to be able to keep up with one who has had so much money spent on him, at the best schools, and i here at home all the time. don't you think so, mamma?" "well!--perhaps so. but the advantages are not all on ned's side. your father's help and interest in all you have been doing, has been worth more to you than any school could have been." "that's true, mamma," said davie, heartily. "and it is not like having lessons--tasks, i mean--to study with papa. it is pure pleasure. and that is more than ned can say, i am afraid," added he, laughing. "and, besides, i don't think these things would have troubled you much under any circumstances; and, as i said before, the self-denial you have had to exercise, may be better for you than even success in your studies would be." "self-denial, mamma! why, i think we have had a very happy winter, so far!" "indeed, we have! even with some things that we might have wished different. and, davie, you must not think you have been losing time. a boy cannot be losing time, who is being a comfort to his father and mother. and self-denial is a better thing to learn even than greek. if you live long, you will have more use for the one than for the other, i have no doubt." david laughed, and blushed with pleasure at his mother's words. "i am glad that you think so--i mean that i have been a comfort. but as for the self-denial, i don't believe any of the boys have had a better time than i have had this winter. if papa were only well! but he is better now, mamma?" "yes; i hope so. if it were may instead of january, i should not be afraid." "have you been afraid, mamma? are you afraid?" asked david, startled. "no--not really afraid, only anxious, and, indeed, i am becoming less so every day." and there seemed less cause. wrapped in his wonderful coat of fur and driven by david, the minister went here and there among his people, just as usual, and had a great deal of satisfaction in it, and was not more tired at such times than he had often been before. he preached on sunday always at the village, and generally at his other stations as well, and david might well say these were happy days. yes, they were happy days, and long to be remembered, because of the sorrowful days that came after them. not but that the sorrowful days were happy days, too, in one sense; at least, they were days which neither david nor his mother would be willing ever to forget. young people do not like to hear of sorrowful days, and sometimes think and say, that at least all such should be left out of books. i should say so, too, if they could also be kept out of one's life, but sorrowful days will not be kept away by trying to forget them. and besides, life itself would not be better by their being left out, for out of such have come, to many a one, the best and most enduring of blessings. it does not need any words of mine to prove that god does not send them in anger to his people, but in love. we have his own word for that, repeated again and again. and if we did but know it, there are many days to which we look forward--which we hail with joyful welcome, of which we have more cause to be afraid, than of the days of trouble that are sent us by god. chapter six. february came in with wind and rain--a sudden thaw, levelling the great drifts, and sending down through all the hollows swift rushes of snow-water to cover the ice on the river--to break it up in some places, to fill the channel full till all the meadows above the millpond were quite overflowed. it did not last long. it cleared the third night, and so sudden and sharp was the coming of the cold, that not a murmur of water was to be heard where it had rushed in torrents the day before, and the millpond, and the meadows above, lay in the sunshine like a sheet of molten silver. in this sudden change, mr inglis took cold. it had been like that all winter. his illness had been very severe, but just as he seemed ready to throw it off and be himself again, he always seemed to take more cold, and went back again. it was very trying--very discouraging. this was what david and jem were saying to one another one afternoon, as they took their way down to the mill-dam where many of their companions had gone before them. it quite spoiled david's pleasure to think about it, and even jem looked grave as they went on together. however, there are few troubles that a pair of skates, and a mile, more or less, of shining ice, have not power to banish, for a time, at least, from the minds of boys of twelve and fourteen; and so when they came home, and their mother met them at the door, telling jem that he was to go and ask dr gore to come up again, it gave them both a new shock of pain, and david asked, "is papa worse, mamma?" with such a sinking of the heart, as he had never felt before. "not seriously worse, i hope," said his mother. "still the doctor may as well come up. it will be safest." just a little fresh cold, the doctor said, and mr inglis must take care of himself for a few days. the remedies which he prescribed had the desired effect. in a day or two he was as well as usual; but on sunday, when he was nearly through with the morning service, his voice failed so utterly that his last words were lost to all. of course there was no possibility of his going to the gore in the afternoon. he could only rest at home, hoping and believing that he would be well in a little while. indeed, the thought of the disappointment to the congregation who would assemble in the afternoon, was more in his thoughts than any future danger to himself. there need be no disappointment--at least, the people need not be made to wait; and david and jem were sent to tell them that their father was not able to come, and that they were to read a sermon, and mr spry was to conduct the service as he had sometimes done before. they took with them a sermon chosen by their father; but mr spry was not there, nor mr fiske, nor any one who thought himself capable of reading it as it ought to be read. "suppose you give them miss bethia's sermon, davie," said jem, laughing. "don't, jem," said david, huskily. something rising in his throat would hardly let him say it, for the remembrance of old tim, and that fair day, and of his father's face, and voice, and words, came back upon him with a rush, and the tears must have come if he had spoken another word. "is there no one here that can read? papa will be disappointed," said he, in a little. no. there seemed to be no one. one old gentleman had not brought his glasses; another could not read distinctly, because of the loss of his front teeth; no one there was in the habit of reading aloud. "suppose you read it, david? you will do it first-rate," said old mr wood. "we'll manage the rest." david looked grave. "go ahead, davie," said jem. "what would papa say?" said david. "he would be pleased, of course. why not?" said jem, promptly. so when the singing and prayers were over, some one spoke to him again, and he rose and opened the book with a feeling that he was dreaming, and that he would wake up by and by, and laugh at it all. it was like a dream all through. he read very well, or the people thought he did; he read slowly and earnestly, without looking up, and happily forgot that jem was there, or he might have found it difficult to keep from wondering how he was taking it, and from looking up to see. but jem had the same dreamy feeling on him, too. it seemed so strange to be there without his father, and to be listening to davie's voice; and nothing was farther from his mind than that there was anything amusing in it all. for sitting there, with his head leaning on his hands, a very terrible thought came to jem. what if he were never to hear his father's voice in this place again? what if he were never to be well?--what if he were going to die! he was angry with himself in a minute. it was a very foolish thought, he said; wrong even, it seemed to him. nothing was going to happen to his father. he was not very ill. he would be all right again in a day or two. jem was indignant with himself because of his thoughts; and roused himself, and by and by began to take notice how attentively all the people were listening, and thought how he would tell them all about it at home, and how pleased his father and mother would be. he did not try to listen, himself, but mused on from one thing to another, till he quite forgot his painful thoughts, and in a little the book was closed and david sat down. they hurried away as quickly as they could, but not before they had to repeat over and over again to the many who crowded round them to inquire, that their father was not ill, at least not worse than he had been, only he had taken cold and was hoarse and not able to speak--that was all. but the thought that perhaps it might not be all, lay heavy on their hearts all the way home, and made their drive a silent one. it never came into jem's mind to banter davie about the new dignity of his office as reader, as at first he had intended to do, or, indeed, to say anything at all, till they were nearly home. as for david, he was going over and over the very same things that had filled his mind when he drove his father from old tim's funeral--"a good soldier of jesus christ," and all that was implied in the name, and his father's words about "the enrolling of one's name;" and he said to himself that he would give a great deal to be sure that his name was enrolled, forgetting that the whole world could not be enough to buy what god had promised to him freely--a name and a place among his people. "i hope we shall find papa better," said jem, as old don took his usual energetic start on the hill near the bridge. "oh! he is sure to be better," said david. but he did not feel at all sure of it, and he could not force himself to do anything for old don's comfort till he should see what was going on in the house. the glimpse he got when he went in was re-assuring. violet was laying the table for tea, and singing softly to herself as she went through the house. his father and mother were in the sitting-room with the rest of the children, and they were both smiling at one of little polly's wise speeches as he went in. "well, davie, you are home again safely," said his mother. "all right, mamma. i will tell you all about it in a minute," said david. "all right," he repeated, as he went out again to jem, lifting a load from his heart, and from his own, too, with the word. but was it really "all right?" their father's face said it plainly, they thought, when they went in, and their mother's face said it, too, with a difference. a weight was lifted from jem's heart, and his spirits rose to such a happy pitch that, sunday as it was, and in his father's presence, he could hardly keep himself within quiet bounds, as he told them about the afternoon, and how david had read so well, and what all the people had said. david's heart was lightened, too, but he watched the look on his mother's face, and noticed that she hardly spoke a word--not even to check jem, when the laughter of the children and letty grew too frequent, and a little noisy, as they sat together before the lamp was lighted. "it is all right, i hope," said he, a little doubtfully. "it would be all right for papa, whichever way it were to end--and for mamma, too,-- in one sense--and for all of us," added he, with a vague idea of the propriety of submission to god's will under any circumstances. "but papa is not worse--i think he is not worse, and it will be all right by and by when summer comes again." but he still watched his mother's face, and waited anxiously for her word to confirm his hope. it _was_ all right, because nothing which is god's will can be otherwise to those who put their trust in him. but it was not all right in the sense that david was determined to hope. though he found them sitting so calmly there when he came home that night, and though the evening passed so peacefully away, with the children singing and reading as usual, and the father and mother taking interest in it all, they had experienced a great shock while the boys were away. gradually, but very plainly, the doctor had for the first time spoken of danger. absolute rest for the next three months could alone avert it. the evidence of disease was not very decided, but the utter prostration of the whole system, was, in a sense, worse than positive disease. to be attacked with serious illness now, or even to be over-fatigued might be fatal to him. it was not dr gore who spoke in this way, but a friend of his who was visiting him, and whom he had brought to see his patient. he was a friend of the minister, too, and deeply interested in his case, and so spoke plainly. though dr gore regretted the abruptness of his friend's communication, and would fain have softened it for their sakes, he could not dissent from it. but both spoke of ultimate recovery provided three months of rest--absolute rest, as far as public duty was concerned, were secured. or it would be better still, if, for the three trying months that were before him, he could go away to a milder climate, or even if he could get any decided change, provided he could have rest with it. the husband and wife listened in silence, at the first moment not without a feeling of dismay. to go away for a change was utterly impossible, they put that thought from them at once. to stay at home in perfect rest, seemed almost impossible, too. they looked at one another in silence. what could be said? "we will put it all out of our thoughts for to-day, love," said mr inglis, in his painful whisper, when they were left alone. "at least we will not speak of it to one another. we must not distrust his loving care of us, dear, even now." they did not speak of it to one another, but each apart spoke of it to him who hears no sorrowful cry of his children unmoved. he did not lift the cloud that gloomed so darkly over them. he did not by a sudden light from heaven show them a way by which they were to be led out of the darkness, but in it he made them to feel his presence. "fear not, for i am with thee. be not dismayed, for i am thy god!" and lo! "the darkness was light about them!" so when the boys came home the father's face said plainly what both heart and lip could also say, "it is all right." and the mother's said it, too, with a difference. of course, all that the doctors had said was not told to the children. indeed the father and mother did not speak much about it to each other for a good many days. mr inglis rested, and in a few days called himself nearly well again, and but for the doctor's absolute prohibition, would have betaken himself to his parish work as usual. it was not easy for him to submit to inactivity, for many reasons that need not be told, and when the first sabbath of enforced silence came round, it found him in sore trouble, _knowing_, indeed, where to betake himself, but _feeling_ the refuge very far away. that night he first spoke to david of the danger that threatened him. they were sitting together in the twilight. the mother and the rest were down-stairs at the usual sunday reading and singing, which the father had not felt quite able to bear, and now and then the sound of their voices came up to break the stillness that had fallen on these two. david had been reading, but the light had failed him, and he sat very quiet, thinking that his father had fallen asleep. but he had not. "davie," said he, at last, "what do you think is the very hardest duty that a soldier may be called to do?" david was silent a minute, partly from surprise at the question, and partly because he had been thinking of all that his father had been suffering on that sorrowful silent day, and he was not quite sure whether he could find a voice to say anything. for at morning worship, the father had quite broken down, and the children had been awed and startled by the sight of his sudden tears. all day long david had thought about it, and sitting there beside him his heart had filled full of love and reverent sympathy, which he never could have spoken, even if it had come into his mind to try. but when his father asked him that question, he answered, after a little pause: "not the fighting, papa, and not the marching. i think perhaps the very hardest thing would be to stand aside and wait, while the battle is going on." "ay, lad! you are right there," said his father, with a sigh. "though why you should look on it in that way, i do not quite see." "i was thinking of you, papa," said david, very softly; and in a little he added: "this has been a very sad day to you, papa." "and i have not been giving you a lesson of trust and cheerful obedience, i am afraid. yes, this has been a sad, silent day, davie, lad. but the worst is over. i trust the worst is over now." david answered nothing to this, but came closer, and leaned over the arm of the sofa on which his father lay, and by and by his father said: "my boy, it is a grand thing to be a soldier of jesus christ, willing and obedient. and whether it is marching or fighting, or only waiting, our commander cannot make a mistake. it ought to content us to know that, davie, lad." "yes, papa," said david. "yes," added his father, in a little. "it is a wonderful thing to belong to the great army of the lord. there is nothing else worth a thought in comparison with that. it is to fight for right against wrong, for christ and the souls of men, against the devil--with the world for a battle ground, with weapons `mighty through god to the pulling down of strongholds'--under a leader divine, invincible, and with victory sure. what is there beyond this? what is there besides?" he was silent, but david said nothing, and in a little while he went on again: "but we are poor creatures, davie, for all that. we grow weary with our marching; turned aside from our chosen paths, we stumble and are dismayed, as though defeat had overtaken us; we sit athirst beside our broken cisterns, and sicken in prisons of our own making, believing ourselves forgotten. and all the time, our leader, looking on, has patience with us--loves us even, holds us up, and leads us safe through all, and gives us the victory at the end. `thanks be to god who giveth us the victory!'" said mr inglis, and in a minute he repeated the words again. then he lay still for a long time, so long that it grew dark, except for the light of the new moon, and david, kneeling at the head of the sofa, never moved, thinking that his father slumbered now, or had forgotten him. but by and by he spoke again: "when i was young, just beginning the conflict, i remember saying to myself, if god will give me twenty years in which to fight his battles, i will be content. the twenty years are almost over now. ah! how little i have gained for him from the enemy! yet i may have to lay down my armour now, just as you are ready to put it on, davie, my son." "papa! i am not worthy--" said david, with a sob. "worthy? no. it is a gift he will give you--as the crown and the palm of the worthiest will be his free gift at last. not worthy, lad, but willing, i trust." "papa--i cannot tell. i am afraid--" he drew nearer, kneeling still, and laid his face upon his father's shoulder. "of what are you afraid, davie? there is nothing you need fear, except delay. you cannot come to him too soon. david, when you were the child of an hour only, i gave you up to god to be his always. i asked him to make you a special messenger of his to sinful men. his minister. that may be if he wills. i cannot tell. but i do know that he will that you should be one of his `good soldiers.'" there was a long silence, for it tired him to speak, and david said nothing. by and by his father said: "how can i leave your mother to your care, unless i know you safe among those whom god guides? but you must give yourself to him. your mother will need you, my boy, but you may fight well the battles of the lord, even while working with your hands for daily bread. and for the rest, the way will open before you. i am not afraid." "papa," said david, raising himself up to look into his father's face, "why are you saying all this to me to-night?" "i am saying it to you because you are your mother's first-born son, and must be her staff and stay always. and to-night is a good time to say it." "but, papa," said the boy with difficulty, "it is not because you think you are going to die? does mamma know?" "i do not know, my son. death has seemed very near to me to-day. and it has been often in your mother's thoughts of late, i do not doubt. my boy! it is a solemn thing to feel that death may be drawing near. but i am not afraid. i think i have no cause to be afraid." he raised himself up and looked into the boy's face with a smile, as he repeated: "david--i have no cause to fear--since jesus died." "no, papa," said david, faintly. "but mamma--and--all of us." "yes, it will be sad to leave you, and it will be sad for you to be left. but i am not afraid. `leave thy fatherless children; i will preserve them alive, and let thy widow trust in me.' he has said it, and he will bring it to pass. the promise is more to me, to-night, than untold wealth could be. and davie, i leave them to your care. you must take my place with them, and comfort your mother, and care for your brothers and sisters. and david you must be a better soldier than i have ever been." david threw himself forward with a cry. "oh papa! how can i? how can i? i am afraid, and i do not even know that my name is enrolled, and that is the very first--" "my boy! but you may know. have you ever given yourself to our great leader? have you asked him to enrol your name? ask him now. do not i love you? his love is greater far than mine!" there had been moments during that day when the lord had seemed very far away from his servant, but he felt him to be very near him now, as he poured out his heart in prayer for his son. he did not use many words, and they were faintly and feebly uttered, but who shall doubt but they reached the ear of the lord waiting to hear and answer. but they brought no comfort to david that night. indeed he hardly heard them. there was only room in his heart for one thought. "death may be drawing near!" his father had said, and beyond that he could not look. it was too terrible to believe. he would not believe it. he would not have it so. by and by when there came the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he slipped unseen out of the room, and then out of the house, and seeking some place where he might be alone, he went up into the loft above old don's crib, and lay down upon the hay, and wept and sobbed his heart out there. he prayed, too, asking again for the blessing which his father had asked for him; and for his father's life. he prayed earnestly, with strong crying and tears; but in his heart he knew that he cared more for his father's life and health than for the better blessing, and though he wept all his tears out, he arose uncomforted. the house was still and dark when he went in. his mother had thought that he had gone to bed, and jem that he was sitting in the study as he often did, and he was fast asleep when david lay down beside him, and no one knew the pain and dread that was in his heart that night. but when he rose in the morning, and went down-stairs, and heard the cheerful noise of the children, and saw his mother going about her work as she always did, all that had happened last night seemed to him like a dream. by and by his father came among them, no graver than in other days, and quite as well as he had been for a long time, and everything went on as usual all day, and for a good many days. nobody seemed afraid. his mother was watchful, and perhaps a little more silent than usual, but that was all. as for his father, the worst must have been past that night, as he had said, for there was no cloud over him now. he was cheerful always--even merry, sometimes, when he amused himself with little polly and the rest. he was very gentle with them all, more so than usual, perhaps, and david noticed that he had violet and jem alone with him in the study now and then. once when this happened with jem, david did not see him again all day, and afterwards--a long time afterwards--jem told him that he had spent that afternoon in the hay-loft above old don's crib. at such times he used to wonder whether their father spoke to them as he had spoken to him that night, when he told him how "death might be drawing near." but they never spoke to one another about it. and, indeed, it was not difficult during those cheerful quiet days, to put such thoughts out of their minds. the people came and went, looking grave sometimes, but not as though they had any particular cause for fear. the minister went out almost every fine day with david or his mother, or with jem if it was saturday, for the children were growing almost jealous of one another, as to opportunities for doing things for papa, and jem must have his turn, too. how kind all the people were! surely there never was anything like it before, the children thought. some among them whom they had not much liked, and some whom they had hardly known, came out in a wonderful way with kind words and kinder deeds, and if kindness and thoughtfulness, and love that was almost reverence, would have made him well, he would soon have been in his old place among them again. his place on sunday was supplied as often as possible from abroad, and when it could not be, the people managed as well as they could, and that was better than usual, for all hearts were softened and touched by the sorrow that had come on them as a people, and nothing was allowed to trouble or annoy the minister that could be prevented by them. they would have liked him to go away as the doctor had advised, and the means would have been provided to accomplish it, but the minister would not hear of being sent away. he felt, he said, that he would have a better chance for recovery at home. not that there was any chance in that, according to his thought. it was all ordered, and it would all be well, whichever way it was to end, and he was best and happiest at home. and so the time passed on, and then, and afterwards, no one ever thought or spoke of these days but as happy days. and yet, in the secret heart of every one of them, of the mother and the children, and of the kind people that came and went, there was a half-conscious waiting for something that was drawing near. it was a hope, sometimes, and sometimes it was a dread. the neighbours put it into words, and the hopeful spoke of returning health and strength, and of the lessons of faith and love they should learn by and by, through the experience of the minister in the sick room; and those who were not hopeful, spoke of other lessons they might have to learn through other means. but in the house they only waited, speaking no word of what the end might be. at last there came a day, when no words were needed, to tell what messenger of the king was on his way. the hushed voices of the children, the silence in the house, told it too plainly. the laboured breathing of the sick man, the feverish hand, the wandering eye, were visible tokens that death was drawing near. the change came suddenly. they were not prepared for it, they said. but there are some things for which we cannot make ourselves ready, till we feel ourselves shuddering under the blow. ah! well. he was ready, and the rest mattered little. even the mother said that to herself and to him, with the sobbing of their children in her ears. she did not sob nor cry out in her pain, but kept her face calm and smiling for him till the very last. and because, with his laboured breathing, and the pain which held him fast, he could not say to her that which was in his heart, she said it all to him--how they had loved one another, and how god had cared for them always, and how happy they had been, and how, even in the parting that was before them, god's time was best, and she was not afraid. and she was _not_ afraid! looking into those triumphant eyes, glad with the brightness of something that she could not see, how could she be afraid? "for neither life nor death, nor principalities nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of god, which is in christ jesus our lord," she murmured, comforting him with her words. he was dying! he was leaving her and their children alone, with god's promise between them and poverty, and nothing else. nothing else! is not that enough? think of it! god's promise! "i am not afraid!" she said the words over and over again. "why should i be afraid? there are things far worse than poverty to bear. `our bread shall be given us, and our water sure.' i might be afraid for our children without you, had they the temptations of wealth to struggle with. their father's memory will be better to them than lands or gold. put it all out of your thoughts, dear love. i am not afraid." afterwards the doubt might come--the care, the anxiety, the painful reckoning of ways and means, to her who knew that the roof that covered them and the daily bread of her children, depended on the dear life now ebbing so fast away. but now, seeing--not heaven's light, indeed, but the reflection of its glory on his face, she no more feared life than he feared death, now drawing so near. the children came in, at times, and looked with sad, appealing eyes from one face to the other to find comfort, and seeing her so sweet and calm and strong, went out to whisper to one another that mamma was not afraid. all through these last days of suffering the dying father never heard the voice of weeping, or saw a token of fear or pain. just once, at the very first, seeing the sign of the coming change on his father's face, david's heart failed him, and he leaned, for a moment, faint and sick upon his mother's shoulder. but it never happened again till the end was near. seeing his mother, he grew calm and strong, trying to stand firm in this time or trouble that she might have him to lean on when the time of weakness should come. the others came and went, but david never left his mother's side. and she watched and waited, and took needful rest that she might keep calm and strong to the very end; and the dying eyes never rested on her face but they read there, "god is good, and i am not afraid." and so the time wore on till the last night came. they did not know it was the last night; and the mother lay down within call, for an hour or two, and david watched alone. will he ever forget those hours, so awful yet so sweet? "it is `the last evening,' davie, lad!" said his father, in gasps, between his hard-drawn breaths. "strong, but not invincible! say something to me, dear." "`he, also, himself likewise took part of the same, that through death he might destroy him that hath the power of death--.'" david paused. "go on, dear," said his father. "`and deliver them who through fear of death were all their life-time subject to bondage.'" "i am not--afraid! tell me more." "`i have fought a good fight, i have finished my course, i have kept the faith. henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but to all them also that love his appearing.'" "his gift, dear boy, his gift! say something more." "`in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us--'" went on david, but he had no power to add another word, and his father murmured on: "loved us! wonderful!--wonderful! and gave--himself--for us." and then he seemed to slumber for awhile, and when he awoke david was not sure that he knew him, for his mind seemed wandering, and he spoke as if he were addressing many people, lifting his hand now and then as if to give emphasis to his words. but his utterance was laboured and difficult, and david only caught a word here and there. "a good fight"--"the whole armour"--"more than conquerors." once he said, suddenly: "are you one of them, davie? and are you to stand in my place and take up the weapons that i must lay down?" david felt that he knew him then, and he answered: "papa, with god's help, i will." and then there came over his father's face a smile, oh! so radiant and so sweet, and he said: "kiss me, davie!" and then he murmured a word or two--"thanks!" and "victory!" and these were the very last words that david heard his father utter; for, when he raised himself up again, his mother was beside him, and the look on her face, made bright to meet the dying eyes, was more than he could bear. "lie down a little, davie. you are quite worn out," said she, softly, soothing him with hand and voice. but he could not go away. he sat down on the floor, and laid his face on the pillow of little mary's deserted cot, and by and by his mother came and covered him with a shawl, and he must have fallen asleep, for when he looked up again there were others in the room, and his mother's hand was laid on his father's closed eyes. of the awe and stillness that filled the house for the next three days of waiting, few words need be spoken. "i must have three days for my husband, and then all my life shall be for my children," said their mother. "davie, you and letty must help one another and comfort the little ones." so for the most part she was left alone, and david and letty did what they could to comfort the rest, through that sorrowful time. the neighbours were very kind. they would have taken the little ones away for awhile, but they did not want to go, and david and violet said to one another it was right that even the little ones should have these days to remember afterwards. how long the days of waiting seemed! sudden bursts of crying from the little ones broke now and then the stillness too heavy to be borne, and even violet sometimes gave way to bitter weeping. but they thought of their mother, and comforted one another as well as they could; and david stood between her closed door and all that could disturb her in her sorrow, with a patient quiet at which they all wondered. just once it failed him. some one came, with a trailing mass of black garments, which it was thought necessary for her to see, and violet said so to her brother, very gently, and with many tears. but david threw up his hands with a cry. "what does it matter, letty? what can mamma care for all that now? she shall not be troubled." and she was not. even miss bethia could not bring herself to put aside the words of the boy who lay sobbing in the dark, outside his mother's door. "he's right," said she. "it don't matter the least in the world. there don't anything seem to matter much. she sha'n't be worried. let it go," said miss bethia, with a break in her sharp voice. "it'll fit, i dare say, well enough--and if it don't, you can fix it afterwards. let it go now." but david came down, humble and sorry, in a little while. "i beg your pardon, miss bethia," said he. "i don't suppose mamma would have cared, and you might have gone in. only--" his voice failed him. "don't worry a mite about it," said miss bethia, with unwonted gentleness. "it don't matter--and it is to you your mother must look now." but this was more than david could bear. shaking himself free from her detaining hand, he rushed away out of sight--out of the house--to the hay-loft, the only place where he could hope to be alone. and he was not alone there; for the first thing he heard when the sound of his own sobbing would let him hear anything, was the voice of some one crying by his side. "is it you, jem?" asked he, softly. "yes, davie." and though they lay there a long time in the darkness, they did not speak another word till they went into the house again. but there is no use dwelling on all these sorrowful days. the last one came, and they all went to the church together, and then to the grave. standing on the withered grass, from which the spring sunshine was beginning to melt the winter snow, they listened to the saddest sound that can fall on children's ears, the fall of the clods on their father's coffin-lid, and then they went back to the empty house to begin life all over again without their father's care. chapter seven. mr oswald, frank's father, came home with them. he had been written to when mr inglis died, and had reached gourlay the day before the funeral, but he had not stayed at their house, and they had hardly seen him till now. they were not likely to see much of him yet, for he was a man with much business and many cares, and almost the first words he said when he came into the house, were, that he must leave for home that night, or at the latest the next morning. "and that means whatever you want to say to me, must be said at once, and the sooner the better," said miss bethia, as she took mrs inglis's heavy crape bonnet and laid it carefully in one of the deep drawers of the bureau in her room. "i haven't the least doubt but i know what he ought to say, and what she ought to say, better than they know themselves. but that's nothing. it ain't the right one that's put in the right spot, not more than once in ten times--at least it don't look like it," added she, with an uncomfortable feeling that if any one were to know her thoughts he might accuse her of casting some reflections on the providential arrangement of affairs. "they don't realise that i could help them any, and it will suit better if i leave them. so i'll see if i can't help debby about getting tea." there was not much said for a time, however. mrs inglis evidently made a great effort to say something, and asked about frank and the family generally, and then said something about his journey, and then about the sudden breaking-up of the winter roads. mr oswald felt it to be cruel to make her speak at all, and turned to the children. "which is davie?" asked he, in a little. david rose and came forward. "i thought you had been older. frank seemed to speak as if you were almost a man," said he, holding out his hand. "i am past fourteen," said david. "and are you ready for the university, as frank thought, or is that a mistake of his, too?" "yes," said david. "i am almost ready." "oh! he was ready long ago," said jem, coming to the rescue. "frank said he was reading the same books that his brother read in the second year." "indeed!" said mr oswald, smiling at his eagerness. "and you are jem? you are neither of you such giants as i gathered from frank, but perhaps the mistake was mine. but when one hears of horse-shoeing and homer-- you know one thinks of young men." "and this is violet, only we call her letty; and this is ned, and i am jessie, and this is wee polly," said jessie, a sturdy little maiden of eight, looking with her honest grey eyes straight into mr oswald's face. he acknowledged her introduction by shaking hands with each as she named them. "i find i have made another mistake," said he. "i thought letty was a little girl who always stood at the head of her class, and who could run races with her brothers, and gather nuts, and be as nice as a boy. that was frank's idea." "and so she can," said ned. "and so she is," said jem. "that was so long ago," said violet, in confusion. it seemed ages ago to all the children. "and violet has grown a great deal since then," said jem. "and are frank's eyes better?" "they are no worse. we hope they are better, but he cannot use them with pleasure, poor fellow." and so they went on talking together, till they were called to tea. miss bethia was quite right. he did not in the least know how to begin to say what he knew must be said before he went away. after tea, the younger children went to bed, and miss bethia betook herself to the kitchen and debby, thinking, to herself, it would be well for all concerned if it should fall to her to straighten out things after all; for mr oswald had been walking up and down the room in silence for the last half-hour, "looking as black as thunder," miss bethia said, in confidence, to debby, and no one else had spoken a word. it was a very painful half-hour to mr oswald. he had only begun his walk when it seemed to him impossible that he could sit and look at the pale, patient face and drooping figure of the widow a single moment more. for he was in a great strait. he was in almost the saddest position that a man not guilty of positive wrong can occupy. he was a poor man, supposed to be rich. for years, his income had scarcely sufficed for the expenses of his family; for the last year it had not sufficed. it was necessary for the success of his business, or, he supposed, it was necessary that he should be considered a rich man; and he had harassed himself and strained every nerve to keep up appearances, and now he was saying to himself that this new claim upon him could not possibly be met. he was not a hard man, though he had sometimes been called so. at this moment, his heart was very tender over the widow and her children; and it was the thought that, in strict justice, he had no right to do for them as he wished to do, that gave him so much pain. waiting would not make it better, however, and in a little while he came and sat down by mrs inglis, and said: "it seems cruel that i should expect you to speak about--anything to-night. but, indeed, it is quite necessary that i should return home to-morrow, and i might be able to advise you, if you would tell me your plans." but, as yet, mrs inglis had no plans. "it came so suddenly," said she, speaking with difficulty; "and--you are very kind." "will you tell me just how your affairs stand? unless there is some one else who can do it better, i will gladly help you in your arrangements for the future." there was no one else, and it was not at all difficult to tell him the state of their affairs. they were not at all involved. there were no debts. the rent of the house was paid till the next autumn; there were some arrears of salary, and mrs inglis had a claim on a minister's widow's fund in connection with the branch of the church to which her husband had belonged, but the sum mentioned as the possible annual amount she would receive was so small, that, in mr oswald's mind, it counted for nothing. and that was all! mr oswald was amazed. "was there not something done at one time--about insuring your husband's life?" asked he, gently. "yes; a good many years ago. he could not manage it then--nor since. our income has never been large." and she named the sum. mr oswald rose suddenly, and began his walk about the room again. it was incredible! a scholar and a gentleman like his cousin to rest contented all these years with such a pittance! he knew that he had been earnest and full of zeal in the cause to which he had devoted his life--more than content. valuing money for the sake of what it could do, he had yet envied no man who had more than fell to his lot. he must have known that his children must be left penniless! how could he have borne it? "and how should i leave mine, if i were to die to-night?" said mr oswald to himself, with a groan. "i who have lived a life so different." he came and sat down again. but what could he say? mrs inglis spoke first. "i have made no plans as yet. there has been no time. but i am not afraid. the way will open before us." "yes, you must have good courage. and you will tell me in what way i can be of use to you." "you are very kind," said mrs inglis, speaking quickly. "you may be sure i shall gladly avail myself of your advice. i am not afraid. my boys are strong and willing to work. we love one another, and there are worse things than poverty." "and, for the present, you will remain here at any rate. in a few weeks i shall see you again; and, in the meantime, you must permit me to supply anything you may require." "you are very kind. you may be quite sure we shall apply to you if it be necessary. just now it is not; and when we have had time to consider our plans, we shall write to you--if you cannot come." mrs inglis paused; and, perhaps, becoming conscious that she had spoken with unnecessary decision, she added, gently: "you are very kind. i believe you are a true friend, and that you will do what you can to enable us to help ourselves. that will be the best-- the only way to aid us effectually. with my two brave boys and god's blessing, i don't think i need fear." she spoke, looking, with a smile, at her sons, who were leaning over her chair. somehow her smile moved mr oswald more than her tears could have done, and he said nothing for a minute or two. there was nothing clearer than that she did not intend to lay the burden of her cares on him or anyone. but what could a delicate woman, unused to battle with the world, do to keep the wolf from the door, let her courage be ever so high? "will you promise me one thing?" said he, rising to prepare to go. "will you promise me to let me know how i can help you--when your plans are made--either by advice or by money? i have a right. your husband was my relative as well as my friend." "i promise faithfully you shall be the first person to whom i shall apply in any strait," said mrs inglis, rising also, and offering her hand. "and what did your husband think of my proposal to take his son into my office?" "he thought well of it, as he wrote to you. but nothing has been said about it yet. can you give us a little time still? and i will write. believe me, i am very grateful for your kindness." "if you will only give me an opportunity to be kind. certainly, i can wait. a month hence will be time enough to decide." and then, when he had bidden them all good-bye, he went away. "what did he mean by a situation, mamma?" asked jem. "is it for davie? did papa know?" but mrs inglis could enter into no particulars that night. she had kept up to the end of her strength. "i am very tired. i will tell you all about it another day. we must have patience, and do nothing rashly. the way will open before us. i am not afraid." all the sadness of the next few weeks need not be told. they who have suffered the same loss, and lived through the first sorrowful days of bereavement, will know how it was with the mother and her children, and they who have not could never be made to understand. anxieties as to the future could not but press on the heart of the mother, but they could scarcely be said to deepen her sadness. she was not really afraid. she knew they would not be forsaken--that their father's god would have them in his keeping. but the thought of parting from them-- of sending any of them away--was very hard to bear. if she could have seen it possible to stay in gourlay, she would have had fewer misgivings; but there was nothing in gourlay she could do to help to keep her children together. there was no room in so small a place for any but the public schools, long established, and, at present, prosperous; and teaching seemed the only thing in which she could engage with even moderate hopes of success. if "a multitude of counsellors" could have helped her, she would have been helped. every one had something to say, which proved that the earnest desire of all was that she should stay in gourlay; but no one was so happy as to suggest a way in which she could do so without involving some measure of dependence on the kindness of friends; and though this might do for a little while, it could not do long, and they would have to go at last. still she was in no haste to go, or very eager to make plans for the future. "the way will open before us! i am not afraid!" was the end of many an anxious discussion during these days; and thought of sending david away from her, gave her more real pain through them all than did the consideration of what might befall them in the future; for david was going away to be junior clerk in the bank of singleton, at a salary which seemed very large to him. it was more than a third of what his father's salary had been when it was at the best. there would not be much left for his mother and the rest by the time he had clothed and kept himself; but it was a beginning, and david was glad to begin, jem would fain have done something, too, but his mother justly felt that the next six months at school would be of greater value to him than all he would be likely to earn, and he was to stay at home for the present. but the mother did not have to send david away alone. the way, for which she had so patiently and confidently waited, opened to them sooner than she had dared to hope. it did not open very brightly. an opportunity to let their house to one of the new railway people made her think first of the possibility of getting away at once; and various circumstances, which need not be told, induced her to look to the town of singleton as their future place of residence. david was to be there for a year, at least, and they could all be together, and his salary would do something toward keeping the house, and, in a place like singleton, there might be more chance for getting for herself and violet such employment as might suit them than they could have in gourlay. it was not without some doubts and fears that this arrangement was decided upon; but there seemed nothing better to do, and delay would make departure none the easier. but the doubts and fears came only now and then--the faith in god was abiding; and if she was sorrowful in those days, it was with a sorrow which rose from no distrust of him who had been her confidence all her life-long. she knew that help would come when it was needed, and that he would be her confidence to the end. towards the end of april, they had a visit from a gentleman, who announced himself as mr caldwell, senior clerk in the bank where david was to be junior. he had come to transact business at the quarries, several miles beyond gourlay, and had called at the request of mr oswald, and also because he wished to make the acquaintance of the inglis family, especially of david, whom he expected soon to have under his immediate care. he had known mr inglis when he was a boy, having been then in the employment of his uncle. the children had heard of him often, and their mother had seen him more than once in the earlier years of her married life, and they were not long in becoming friendly. he was a small, dark man, slow of speech, and with some amusing peculiarities of manner, but, evidently, kindly-disposed toward them all. his first intention had been to go on to the quarries that night, but he changed his mind before he had been long in the house, and accepted mrs inglis's invitation to stay to tea; and soon, to her own surprise, the mother found herself telling their plans to a very attentive listener. he looked grave, when he heard of their determination to leave gourlay, and go and live in singleton. it was a warm, bright afternoon, and they were sitting on the gallery in front of the house. the snow was nearly all gone; a soft green was just beginning to make itself visible over the fields and along the roadsides, and buds, purple and green and brown, were showing themselves on the door-yard trees. the boys were amusing themselves by putting in order the walks and flower-borders in the garden, where there were already many budding things, and the whole scene was a very pleasant one to look on. "singleton is very different from this place," said he. "you will never like to live there." but there are many things that people must endure when they cannot like them; and there seemed to be no better way, as he acknowledged, when he had heard all. he entered with kindly interest into all their plans, and it was arranged that, when david went to singleton, he should go directly to his house, and, between them, no doubt, a suitable house for the family would be found. and mrs inglis thanked god for the new friend he had raised up for them, and took courage. the next day, mr caldwell went to the quarries, and david and jem went with him, or rather, it should be said, mr caldwell went with the boys, for they had old don and the wagon, and made a very pleasant day of it, going one way and coming home the other, for the sake of showing the stranger as much of the beautiful country as possible in so short a time. they all enjoyed the drive and the view of the country, and mr caldwell enjoyed something besides. he was a quiet man, saying very little, and what he did say came out so deliberately that any one else would have said it in half the time. but he was a good listener, and had the faculty of making other people talk, and the boys had a great deal to say to him and to one another. unconsciously they yielded to the influence of the sweet spring air and the sunshine, and the new sights that were around them, and the sadness that had lain so heavily on them since their father's death lightened, they grew eager and communicative, and, in boyish fashion, did the honours of the country to their new friend with interest and delight. not that they grew thoughtless or seemed to forget. their father's name was often on their lips,--on jem's, at least,--david did not seem to find it so easy to utter. they had both been at the quarries before with their father, and jem had a great deal to say about what he had heard then, and at other times, about the stones and rocks, the formations and strata; and he always ended with "that was what papa said, eh, davie?" as though that was final, and there could be no dissent; and david said, "yes, jem," or, perhaps, only nodded his head gravely. he never enlarged or went into particulars as jem did; and when once they were fairly on their way home, jem had it all to do, for they came home by the north gore road, over which david had gone so many, many times; and even jem grew grave as he pointed out this farm and that, as belonging to "one of our people;" and the grave-yard on the hill, and the red school-house "where papa used to preach." and when they came to the top of the hill that looks down on the river, and the meadows, and the two villages, they were both silent, for old don stood still of his own accord, and david, muttering something about "a buckle and a strap," sprang out to put them right, and was a long time about it, mr caldwell thought. "we will let the poor old fellow rest a minute," said jem, softly; and david stood with his face turned away, and his arm thrown over old don's neck. there was not much said after that, but they all agreed that they had had a very pleasant day; and mr caldwell said to mrs inglis, in his slow way, that he had enjoyed the drive, and the sight of the fine country, and the quarries, but he had enjoyed the company of her two boys a great deal more than all. and you may be sure it was a pleasure to her to hear him say it. chapter eight. the breaking-up of what has been a happy home, is not an easy or pleasant thing under any circumstances. it involves confusion and fatigue, and a certain amount of pain, even when there is an immediate prospect of a better one. and when there is no such prospect, it is very sad, indeed. the happy remembrances that come with the gathering together, and looking over of the numberless things, useless and precious, that will, in the course of years, accumulate in a house, change to regrets and forebodings, and the future seems all the more gloomy because of the brightness of the past. there were few things in mrs inglis's house of great value; but everything was precious to her, because of some association it had with her husband and their past life; and how sad all this was to her, could never be told. the children were excited at the prospect of change. singleton was a large place to them, which none of them, except david and violet, had ever seen. so they amused one another, fancying what they would see and do, and what sort of a life they should live there, and made a holiday of the overturning that was taking place. but there was to the mother no pleasing uncertainty with regard to the kind of life they were to live in the new home to which they were going. there might be care, and labour, and loneliness, and, it was possible, things harder to bear; and, knowing all this, no wonder the thought of the safe and happy days they were leaving behind them was sometimes more than she could bear. but, happily, there was not much time for the indulgence of regretful thoughts. there were too many things to be decided and done for that. there were not many valuable things in the house, but there were a great many things of one kind and another. what was to be taken? what to be left? where were they all to be bestowed? these questions, and the perplexities arising out of them, were never for a long time together suffered to be out of the mother's thoughts; and busy tongues suggesting plans, and busy hands helping or hindering to carry them out, filled every pause. the very worst day of all, was the day when, having trusted jem to drive the little ones a few miles down the river to pay a farewell visit, mrs inglis, with david and violet, went into the study to take down her husband's books. and yet that day had such an ending, as to teach the widow still another lesson of grateful trust. it was a long time before they came to the books. papers, magazines, pamphlets--all such things as will, in the course of years, find a place on the shelves or in the drawers of one who interests himself in all that is going on in the world--had accumulated in the study; and all these had to be moved and assorted, for keeping, or destroying, or giving away. sermons and manuscripts, hitherto never touched but by the hand that had written them, had to be disturbed; old letters--some from the living and some from the dead--were taken from the secret places where they had lain for years, and over every one of these mrs inglis lingered with love and pain unspeakable. "never mind, davie! take no notice, violet, love!" she said, once or twice, when a sudden cry or a gush of tears startled them; and so very few words were spoken all day. the two children sat near her, folding, arranging and putting aside the papers as she bade them, when they had passed through her hands. "wouldn't it have been better to put them together and pack them up without trying to arrange them, mamma?" said david, at last, as his mother paused to press her hands on her aching temples. "perhaps it would have been better. but it must have been done some time; and it is nearly over now." "and the books? must we wait for another day? we have not many days now, mamma!" "not many! still, i think, we must wait. i have done all i am able to do to-day. yes, i know you and violet could do it; but i would like to help, and we will wait till to-morrow." "and, besides, mamma," said letty, from the window, "here is miss bethia coming up the street. and, mamma, dear, shouldn't you go and lie down now, and i could tell her that you have a headache, and that you ought not to be disturbed?" but mrs inglis could hardly have accomplished that, even if she had tried at once, for almost before violet had done speaking, miss bethia was upon them. her greetings were brief and abrupt, as usual; and then she said: "well! there! i _was_ in hopes to see this place once more before everything was pulled to pieces!" and she surveyed the disordered room with discontented eyes. "been looking them over to see what you can leave behind or burn up, haven't you? and you can't make up your mind to part with one of them. i know pretty well how _that_ is. the books ain't disturbed yet, thank goodness! are you going to take parson grantly's offer, and let him have some of them?" mrs inglis shook her head. "perhaps i ought," said she. "and yet i cannot make up my mind to do it." "no! of course, not! not to him, anyhow! do you suppose he'd ever read them? no! he only wants them to set up on his shelf to look at. if they've got to go, let them go to some one that'll get the good of them, for goodness sake! well! there! i believe i'm getting profane about it!" said miss bethia catching the look of astonishment on david's face. "but what i want to say is, what in all the world should you want to go and break it up for? there ain't many libraries like that in this part of the world." and, indeed, there was not. the only point at which mr inglis had painfully felt his poverty, was his library. he was a lover of books, and had the desire, which is like a fire in the bones of the earnest student, to get possession of the best books of the time as they came from the press. all his economy in other things had reference to this. any overplus at the year's end, any unexpected addition to their means, sooner or later found its way into the booksellers' hands. but neither overplus nor unexpected addition were of frequent occurrence in the family history of the inglises; and from among the best of the booksellers' treasures only the very best found their way to the minister's study except as transitory visitors. still, in the course of years, a good many of these had been gathered, and he had, besides, inherited a valuable library, as far as it went, both in theology and in general literature; and once or twice, in the course of his life, it had been his happy fortune to have to thank some good rich man for a gift of books better than gold. so miss bethia was right in saying that there were in the country few libraries like the one on which she stood gazing with regretful admiration. "_i_ can't make it seem right to do it," continued she gravely. "just think of the book he thought so much of lying round on common folks' shelves and tables? why! he used to touch the very outsides of them as if they felt good to his hands." "i remember. i have seen him," said david. "and so have i," said violet. "if you were going to sell them all together, so as not to break it up, it would be different," said miss bethia. "but i could not do that, even if i wished. mr grantly only wants a small number of them, a list of which he left when he was here." "the best-looking ones on the outside, i suppose. he could tell something about them, it's likely, by looking at the names on the title-page," said miss bethia, scornfully. "but, miss bethia, why should you think he would not care for the books for themselves, and read them, too?" asked violet, smiling. "mr grantly is a great scholar, they say." "oh, well, child, i dare say! there are books enough. he needn't want your pa's. but, mrs inglis," said miss bethia, impressively, "i wonder you haven't thought of keeping them for david. it won't be a great while before he'll want just such a library. they won't eat anything." "it will be a long time, i am afraid," said david's mother. "and i am not sure that it would not be best to dispose of them,--some of them, at least,--for we are very poor, and i scarcely know whether we shall have a place to put them. they may have to be packed up in boxes, and of that i cannot bear to think." "no. it ain't pleasant," said miss bethia, meditatively. "it ain't pleasant to think about." then rising, she added, speaking rapidly and eagerly, "sell them to _me_, mrs inglis. i'll take good care of them, and keep them together." mrs inglis looked at her in astonishment. the children laughed, and david said: "do you want them to read, miss bethia? or is it only for the outside, or the names on the first page, like mr grantly?" "never you mind. i want to keep them together; and i expect i shall read some in them. mrs inglis, i'll give you five hundred dollars down for that book-case, just as it stands. i know it's worth more than that, a great deal; but the chances are not in favour of your getting more here. come, what do you say?" if miss bethia had proposed to buy the church, or the grave-yard, or the village common, or all of them together, it would not have surprised her listeners more. "miss bethia," said mrs inglis, gently, "i thank you. you are thinking of the good the money would do to my children." "no, mrs inglis, i ain't--not that alone. and that wasn't my _first_ thought either. i want the books for a reason i have." "but what could you do with them, miss bethia?" asked violet. "do with them? i could have the book-case put up in my square room, or i could send them to the new theological school i've heard tell they're starting, if i wanted to. there's a good many things i could do with them, i guess, if it comes to that." "but, aunt bethia, five hundred dollars is a large sum," said david. "it ain't all they're worth. if your ma thinks so, she can take less," said miss bethia, prudently. "o, i've got it--if that's what you mean-- and enough more where that came from! some, at any rate." david looked at her, smiling and puzzled. "i've got it--and i want the books," said miss bethia. "what do you say, mrs inglis?" "miss bethia, i cannot thank you enough for your kind thoughts toward me and my children. but it would not be right to take your money, even if i could bear to part with my husband's books. it would be a gift from you to us." "no, it wouldn't. it would cost me something to part with my money, i don't deny; but not more--not so much as it would cost you to part with your books. and we would be about even there. and i would take first-rate care of them--and be glad to." mrs inglis sat thinking in silence for a minute or two. "miss bethia, you are very kind. will you let me leave the books awhile in your care? it is quite possible we may have no place in which to keep them safely. children, if miss bethia is willing, shall we leave papa's precious books a little while with her?" "i shouldn't feel willing to get the good of your books for nothing." mrs inglis smiled. "you would take care of them." miss bethia hesitated, meditating deeply. "there would be a risk. what if my house were to take fire and burn down? what should i have to show for your books, then?" "but the risk would not be greater with you than with me, nor so great. still, of course, i would not wish to urge you." "i should like to have them, first-rate, if i could have them just in the way i want to--risk or no risk." violet and david laughed; even mrs inglis smiled. that was so exactly what was generally asserted with regard to miss bethia. she must have things in just the way she wanted them, or she would not have them at all. "we could fix it as easy as not, all round, if you would only take my way," said she, with a little vexation. they all sat thinking in silence for a little. "see here! i've just thought of a plan," said she, suddenly. "let me take the books to take care of, and you needn't take the five hundred dollars unless you want to. let it be in mr slight's hands, and while i have the books you will have the interest. i don't suppose you know it, but he had that much of me when he built his new tannery, eight years ago, and he has paid me regular ten per cent, ever since. it looks like usury, don't it? but he says it's worth that to him; and i'm sure, if it is, he's welcome to it. now, if you'll take that while i have the books, i'll call it even--risk or no risk; and you can give it up and have the books when you want them. i call that fair. don't you?" did ever so extraordinary a proposal come from so unexpected a quarter? the mother and children looked at one another in astonishment. "miss bethia," said mrs inglis, gravely, "that is a large sum of money." "well--that's according as folks look at it. but don't let us worry any more about it. there is no better way to fix it that i know of than that." mrs inglis did not know how to answer her. "mrs inglis," said miss bethia, solemnly, "i never thought you was a difficult woman to get along with before." "but, miss bethia," said violet, "mamma knows that you wish to do this for our sakes and not at all for your own." "no she doesn't, neither! and what about it, any way? it's my own, every cent." "miss bethia," said david, "are you very rich?" miss bethia gave a laugh, which sounded like a sob. "yes; i'm rich, if it comes to that! i've got more than ever i'll spend, and nobody has got any claim on me--no blood relation except cousin ira barnes's folks--and they're all better off than i be, or they think so. bless you! i can let your ma have it as well as not, even if i wasn't going to have the books, which i am, i hope." "miss bethia, i don't know what to say to you," said mrs inglis. "well, don't say anything, then. it seems to me you owe it to your husband's memory to keep the books together. for my part, i don't see how you can think of refusing my offer, as you can't take them with you." "to care for the books--yes--" "see here, david!" said miss bethia, "what do you say about it? you are a boy of sense. tell your ma there's no good being so contrary--i mean--i don't know what i mean, exactly," added she. "i shall have to think it over a spell." david turned his eyes toward his mother in wonder--in utter perplexity, but said nothing. "there! i'll have to tell it after all; and i hope it won't just spoil my pleasure in it; but i shouldn't wonder. the money ain't mine--hasn't been for quite a spell. i set it apart to pay david's expenses at college; so it's his, or yours till he's of age, if you're a mind to claim it. your husband knew all about it." "my husband!" repeated mrs inglis. "yes; and now i shouldn't wonder if i had spoiled it to you, too. i told him i was going to give it for that. as like as not he didn't believe me," said miss bethia, with a sob. "i've had my feelings considerably hurt, one way and another, this afternoon. there wouldn't any of you have been so surprised if any one else had wanted to do you a kindness--if you will have that it's a kindness. i know some folks have got to think i'm stingy and mean, because--" "aunt bethia," said david, taking her hand in both his, "that is not what we think here." "no, indeed! we have never thought that," said violet, kissing her. then david kissed her, too, reddening a little, as boys will who only kiss their mothers when they go to bed, or their very little sisters. "miss bethia," said mrs inglis, "my husband always looked upon you as a true friend. i do not doubt but that your kindness in this matter comforted him at the last." "well, then, it's settled--no more need be said. if i were to die to-night, it would be found in my will all straight. and you wouldn't refuse to take it if i were dead, would you? why should you now? unless you grudge me the pleasure of seeing it. oh! i've got enough more to keep me--if that's what you mean--if i should live for forty years, which ain't likely." so what could mrs inglis do but press her hand, murmuring thanks in the name of her children and her husband. miss bethia's spirits rose. "and you'll have to be a good boy, david, and adorn the doctrine of your saviour, so as to fill your father's place." "miss bethia, i can never do that. i am not good at all." "well, i don't suppose you are. but grace abounds, and you can have it for the asking." "but, miss bethia, if you mean this because--you expect me to be a minister, like papa, i am not sure, and you may be disappointed--and then--" "there ain't much one _can_ be sure of in this world," said miss bethia, with a sigh. "but i can wait. you are young--there's time enough. if the lord wants you for his service, he'll have you, and no mistake. there's the money, at any rate. your mother will want you for the next five years, and you'll see your way clearer by that time, i expect." "and do you mean that the money is to be mine--for the university-- whether i am to be a minister or not? i want to understand, miss bethia." "well, it was with the view of your being a minister, like your father, that i first thought of it, i don't deny," said miss bethia, gravely. "but it's yours any way, as soon as your mother thinks best to let you have it. if the lord don't want you for his minister, i'm very sure _i_ don't. if he wants you, he'll have you; and that's as good a way to leave it as any." there was nothing more to be said, and miss bethia had her way after all. and a very good way it was. "and we'll just tell the neighbours that i am to take care of the books till you know where you are to put them--folks take notice of everything so. that'll be enough to say. and, david, you must make out a list of them,--two, indeed,--one to leave with me and one to take, and i'll see to all the rest." and so it was settled. the book-case and the books were never moved. they stand in the study still, and are likely to do so for a good while to come. this is as good a place as any to tell of miss bethia's good fortune. she was disposed, at first, to think her fortune anything but good; for it took out of her hands the house that had been her home for the last thirty years of her life--where she had watched by the death-bed of father, mother, sister. it destroyed the little twenty-acre farm, which, in old times, she had sowed and planted and reaped with her own hands, bringing to nothing the improvements which had been the chief interest of her life in later years; for, in spite of her determined resistance, the great railway company had its way, as great companies usually do, and laid their plans, and carried them out, for making the gourlay station there. so the hills were levelled, and the hollows filled up; the fences and farming implements, and the house itself, carried out of the way, and all the ancient landmarks utterly removed. "just as if there wasn't enough waste land in the country, but they must take the home of a solitary old woman to put their depots, and their engines, and their great wood-piles on," said miss bethia, making a martyr of herself. but, of course, she was well paid for it all, and, to her neighbours, was an object of envy rather than of pity; for it could not easily be understood by people generally, how the breaking-up of her house seemed to miss bethia like the breaking-up of all things, and that she felt like a person lost, and friendless, and helpless for a little while. but there, was a bright side to the matter, she was, by and by, willing to acknowledge. she knew too well the value of money--had worked too hard for all she had, not to feel some come complacency in the handsome sum lodged in the bank in her name by the obnoxious company. it is a great thing to have money, most people think, and miss bethia might have had a home in any house in gourlay that summer if she chose. but she knew that would not suit anybody concerned long; so, when it was suggested to her that she should purchase the house which the departure of mrs inglis and her children left vacant, she considered the matter first, and then accomplished it. it was too large for her, of course, but she let part of it to debby stone, who brought her invalid sister there, and earned the living of both by working as a tailoress. miss bethia did something at that, too, and lived as sparingly as she had always done, and showed such shrewdness in investing her money, and such firmness in exacting all that was her due, that some people, who would have liked to have a voice in the management of her affairs, called her hard, and a screw, and wondered that an old woman like her should care so much for what she took so little good of. but miss bethia took a great deal of good out of her money, or out of the use she made of it, and meant to make of it; and a great many people in gourlay, and out of it, knew that she was neither hard nor a screw. and the book-case still stood up-stairs, and miss bethia took excellent care of the books, keeping the curtains drawn and the room dark, except when she had visitors. then the light was let in, and she grew eloquent over the books and the minister, and the good he had done her in past days; but no one ever heard from her lips how the books came to be left in her care, or what was to become of them at last. chapter nine. may has come again, and the inglises had been living a whole year in singleton; or, rather, they had been living in a queer little house just out of singleton. the house itself was well enough, and the place had been a pretty place once; but miss bethia's enemies--the great railway company--had been at work on it, and about it, and they had changed a pretty field of meadow-land, a garden and an orchard, into a desolate-looking place, indeed. there was no depot or engine-house in the immediate neighbourhood, but the railway itself came so close to it, and rose so high above it, that the engine-driver might almost have looked down the cottage chimney as he passed. just beyond the town of singleton, the highway was crossed by the railway, and, in one of the acute angles which the intersection made, the little house stood. on the side of the house, most distant from the crossing, were two bridges (one on the railway and the other on the high road), both so high and so strong as to seem quite out of place over the tiny stream that, for the greater part of the year, ran beneath them. it was a large stream at some seasons, however, and so was the single river into which it fell; and the water from the single sometimes set back under the bridges and over the low land till the house seemed to stand on an island. the single river could not be seen from the house, although it was so near, because the railway hid it, and all else in that direction, except the summit of a distant mountain, behind which, at midsummer-time, the sun went down. from the other side, the road was seen, and a broken field, over which a new street or two had been laid out, and a few dull-looking houses built; and to the right of these streets lay the town. it was not a pretty place, but it had its advantages. it was a far better home to which to bring country-bred children than any which could have been found within their means in the town. they could not hesitate between it and the others which they went to see; and, as mr oswald had something to do with the railway company, into whose hands it had fallen, it was easily secured. there were no neighbours very near, and there was a bit of garden-ground--the three-cornered piece between the house and the crossing, and a strip of grass, and a hedge of willows and alders on the other side, on the edge of the little stream between the two bridges, and there was no comparison between the house and any of the high and narrow brick tenements with doors opening right upon the dusty street. and so the mother and the children came to make a new home there, and they succeeded. it was a happy home. not in quite the same way that their home in gourlay had been happy. no place could ever be quite like that again; but when the first year came to an end, and the mother looked back over all the way by which they had been led, she felt that she had much cause for gratitude and some cause for joy. the children had, in the main, been good and happy; they had had all the necessaries and some of the comforts of life; they had had no severe illness among them, and they had been able to keep out of debt. to some young people, all this may not seem very much in the way of happiness, but, to mrs inglis, it seemed much, and to the children too. mrs inglis had not opened a school. the house was too small for that, and it was not situated in a part of the town where there were likely to be many pupils. she had taught three or four little girls along with her own children, but the number had not increased. during the first six months of their stay in singleton, violet had been house-keeper. the change had not been altogether pleasant for her, but she had submitted to it cheerfully, and it had done her good. she had become helpful and womanly in a way that would have delighted old mrs kerr's heart to see. to her mother and her brothers she was "one of the children" still, but strangers were beginning to look upon her as a grown-up young lady, a good many years older than david or jem. to jem, for whom his mother had feared most, the change had been altogether advantageous. he had come to singleton with the avowed intention of going regularly to school, as his mother wished, for six months, and then he was going to seek his fortune. but six months passed, and the year came to an end, and jem was still a pupil in the school of mr anstruther--a man among a thousand, jem thought. he was a great mathematician, at any rate, and had a kind heart, and took interest and pleasure in the progress of one who, like himself, went to his work with a will, as jem certainly did in these days. jem's wish to please his mother brought him this reward, that he came to take great pleasure in his work, and all the more that he knew he was laying a good foundation for success in the profession which he had chosen, and in which he meant to excel. for jem was going to be an engineer, and work with his hands and his head too; and though he had no more chances of shoeing horses now, he had, through a friend of his, many a good chance of handling iron, both hot and cold, in the great engine-house at the other side of the town. so jem had made great advance toward manliness since they had come to singleton. greater than david had made, some of the gourlay people thought, who saw both the lads about this time. even his mother thought so for a while. at least she thought that jem had changed more than davie, and more for the better. to be sure, there had been more need, for davie had always been a sensible, well-behaved lad, and even the most charitable and kindly-disposed among the neighbours could not always say that of jem. davie was sensible and well-behaved still, but there was none of the children about whom the mother had at first so many anxious thoughts as about david. to none of them had the father's death changed everything so much as to him. not that he had loved his father more than the others, but for the last year or two he had been more with him. both his work and his recreation had been enjoyed with him, and all the good seemed gone from everything to him since his father died. his new work in singleton was well done, and cheerfully, and the knowledge that he was for the time the chief bread-winner of the family, would have made him do any work cheerfully. but it was not congenial or satisfying work. for a time he had no well defined duty, but did what was to be done at the bidding of any one in the office, and often he was left irritable and exhausted after a day, over which he could look back with no pleasure because of anything that he had accomplished. he could not fall back for recreation on his books, as his mother suggested. he tried it oftener than she knew, but the very sight of the familiar pages, over which he used to ponder with such interest, brought back the "study," and the old happy days, and his father's face and voice, and made him sick with longing for them all. there was no comfort to be got from his books at this time. nor from anything else. the interest in which the little ones took in their new home and their new companions, jem's enthusiasm over his new master and his school work, violet's triumphs in her little house-keeping successes, filled him with wonder which was not always free from anger and contempt. even his mother's gentle cheerfulness was all read wrong by davie. he said to himself that his father had been more to him than to the other children, and that he missed him more than they, but he could not say this of his mother; and daily seeing her patient sweetness, her constant care to turn the bright side of their changed life to her children, it seemed to him almost like indifference--like a willingness to forget. he hated himself for the thought, and shrunk from his mother's eye, lest she should see it and hate him too. but all this did not last very long. it must have come to an end soon, in one way or other, for youth grows impatient of sorrow, and lays it down at last, and thanks to his mother's watchful care, it ended well for david. he had no hay-loft to which he could betake himself in these days when he wished to be alone; but when he felt irritable and impatient, and could not help showing it among his brothers and sisters, he used to go out through the strip of grass and the willows into the dry bed of the shrunken stream that flowed beneath the two bridges, and sitting down on the large stones of which the abutment of the railroad bridge was made, have it out with himself by the bank of the river alone. and here his mother found him sitting one night, dull and moody, throwing sticks and stones into the water at his feet. she came upon him before he was aware. "mamma! you here? how did you come? on the track?" "no; i followed you round by the willows and below the bridge. how quiet it is here!" the high embankment of the railway on one side, and the river on the other, shut in the spot where david sat, and made it solitary enough to suit him in his moodiest moments, and his mother saw that he did not look half glad at her coming. but she took no notice. the great stones that made the edge of the abutment were arranged like steps of stairs, and she sat down a step or two above him. "did the sun set clear? or were there clouds enough about to make a picture to-night?" asked she, after a little. "yes, it was clear, i think. at least not very cloudy. i hardly noticed," said davie, confusedly. "i wish we could see the sun set from the house." "yes, it is very pretty sometimes. when the days were at the longest, the sun set behind the highest part of the mountain just in a line with that tall elm on the other side of the river. it sets far to the left now." "yes, the summer is wearing on," said his mother. and so they went on talking of different things for a little while, and then there was silence. "mamma," said david, by and by, "are you not afraid of taking cold? it is almost dark." "no. i have my thick shawl." and moving down a step, she so arranged it that it fell over david too. "ah! never mind me. i am not so delicate as all that, mamma," said david, laughing, but he did not throw the shawl off, but rather drew a little nearer, and leaned on her lap. "see the evening star, mamma. i always think--" david stopped suddenly. "of papa," said his mother, softly. "yes, and of the many, many times we have seen it together. we always used to look for it coming home. sometimes he saw it first, and sometimes i did; and oh! mamma, there don't seem to be any good in anything now," said he, with a breaking voice. instead of speaking, his mother passed her hand gently over his hair. "will it ever seem the same, mamma?" "never the same, davie! never the same! we shall never see his face, nor hear his voice, nor clasp his hand again. we shall never wait for his coming home in all the years that are before us. it will never, never be the same." "mamma! how can you bear it?" "it was god's will, and it is well with him, and i shall see him again," said his mother, brokenly. but when she spoke in a minute her voice was clear and firm as ever. "it will never be the same to any of us again. but you are wrong in one thing. all the good has not gone out of life because of our loss." "it seems so to me, mamma." "but it is not so. we have our work in the world just as before, and you have your preparation for it." "but i cannot make myself care for anything as i used to do." "there must be something wrong then, davie, my boy." "everything is wrong, i think, mamma." "if _one_ thing is wrong, nothing can be right, david," said his mother, stooping down and kissing him softly. "what did your father wish first for his son?" "that i should be a good soldier of jesus christ. i know that, mamma." "and you have been forgetting this? that hast not changed, davie." "no, mamma--but--i am so good for nothing. you don't know--" "yes, i know. but then it is not one's worth that is to be considered, dear. the more worthless and helpless we are, the more we need to be made his who is worthy. and davie, what do we owe to `him who loved us, and gave himself for us?'" "ourselves, mamma, our life, our love--" "and have you given him these?" "i don't know, mamma." "and are you content not to know?" "i am not content--but how am i to know, mamma," said david, rising and kneeling down on the broad stone beside her. "may i tell you something? it was that night--at the very last--papa asked me if i was ready to put on the armour he was laying down; and i said yes; and, mamma, i meant it. i wished to do so, oh, so much!--but everything has been so miserable since then--" "and don't you wish it still, my son?" "mamma, i know there is nothing else that, is any good, but i cannot make myself care for it as i did then." "david," said his mother, "do you love jesus?" "yes, mamma, indeed i love him. i know him to be worthy of my love." "and you desire to be his servant to honour him, and do his will?" "yes, mamma, if i only knew the way." "david, it was his will that papa should be taken from us; but you are angry at our loss." "angry! oh, mamma!" "you are not submissive under his will. you fail to have confidence in his love, or his wisdom, or in his care for you. you think that in taking him he has made a mistake or been unkind." "i know i am all wrong, mamma." "david, my boy, perhaps it is this which is standing between you and a full consecration to his service." and then she spoke to him of his father, and of his work, and how blessed he had been in it, and of the rest and reward to which he had gone. "a little sooner than we would have chosen for our own sakes, davie, but not too soon for him, or for his master." a great deal more she said to him of the life that lay before him, and how he might help her and his brothers and sisters. then she spoke of his work for christ, and of his preparation for it, and how hopeful-- nay, how sure she was, that happy and useful days were before him--all the more happy and useful because of the sorrow he had been passing through. "as one whom his mother comforteth," came into david's mind as he listened. "and it is i who ought to be comforting you, mamma. i know i am all wrong--" said he, with tears. "we will comfort one another. and indeed, it is my best comfort to comfort you. and, davie, my love, we will begin anew." there was more said after that--of the work that lay ready at his hand, of how he was to take out his books again, lest he should fall back on his studies, and do discredit to his father's teaching, and of how he was to help his brothers and sisters, especially violet and jem. "only, mamma, i think they have been getting on very well without me all this time," said davie, ruefully. "not so well as they will with you, however," said his mother. "everything will go better now." everything did go better after that with david. his troubles were not over. his books gave him pain rather than pleasure, for a while, and it needed a struggle for him to interest himself in the plans and pursuits of jem, and even of violet. but he did not grow moody over his failures, and by and by there came to be some good in life to him again, and his mother's heart was set at rest about him, for she began to hope that it was well with david in the best sense now. during the first summer they saw very little of the oswalds. they lived quite at the other end of the town, in a house very different from the "bridge house," as their cottage was called, and for the greater part of the summer, the young people of the family had been away from home. but in the autumn it was so arranged that violet at least, was to see a great deal of some of them. mr oswald had six children, four daughters and two sons. his eldest daughter ame had been mistress of the house since her return from school, at the time of her mother's death. this had happened several years ago. she was twenty-four years of age, very clever and fond of society. she was engaged to be married, but she did not intend to leave home immediately, from which indeed she could not easily have been spared. they had much company always, and she had a great deal to do in entertaining them, and led a very busy and, as she thought, a very useful life in her father's house. the next in age was philip, but he was not at home. he was in his last year at m-- university, and was to be home in the spring. selina came next. she was one year younger than violet, and would fain have considered herself a grown-up young lady, and her education finished, if her father and sister had agreed. then came frank, who was not very strong, and whose eyes were still weak, and then charlotte and sarah, girls of ten and twelve. it was to teach these two that violet was to go to mr oswald's house. mrs inglis felt that the proposal had been made by mr oswald quite as much with the thought of helping them as of benefiting his children, who had before this time gone to a day-school in the neighbourhood. but she did not refuse to let violet go on that account. she believed her to be fitted for the work. she knew her to be gentle and affectionate, yet firm and conscientious, that she would be faithful in the performance of her duties towards the little girls, and that they would be the gainers in the end by the arrangement. and so it proved. the first intention was that violet should return home every night, but as the season advanced and the weather broke, the distance was found to be too great, and besides, violet's slumbering ambition was awakened by the proposal that she should share in the german and french lessons which selina received from professor olendorf, and so she stayed in the house with her pupils, only going home on friday night to spend the sunday there. she had very little share in the gay doings for which miss oswald was ambitious that her father's house should be distinguished. for miss oswald had strong opinions as to the propriety of young girls like violet and selina keeping themselves to their lessons and their practising, and leading a quiet life, and so had her father. even if he had not, it is likely that miss oswald's opinion would have decided the matter. as it was, selina became content to stay at home in violet's company when her sister went out, and violet was more than content. she enjoyed her work both of teaching and learning, and the winter passed happily and profitably away. of course she was missed at home, but not painfully so. there were no pupils for her mother to teach in the winter. ned went to school, and there was only jessie to teach, and a good many of the lessons she received was in the way of household work, and she soon began to take pride and pleasure in it as violet had done before. and so the winter passed quietly and happily to them all. there was need for constant carefulness, for rigid economy even, but want never came near them. how to make the most of their small means, was a subject at this time much in mrs inglis's thoughts. how to obtain the necessary amount of the simplest and most wholesome food, at the smallest cost, was a problem solved over and over again, with greater or less satisfaction, according to the circumstances at the moment. there was a certain amount of care and anxiety involved, but there was pleasure too, and all the more that they knew the exact amount of their means, and what they had "to come and go" upon. they had some pleasant surprises in the shape of kind gifts of remembrance from gourlay friends, gladly given and gladly received, less because of present necessities than because of old friendship. want! no, it never came near them--never even threatened to come near them. when the winter was over, they could look back to what jem called "a tight spot" or two in the matter of boots and firewood, but on nothing very serious after all. the boots and the firewood were the worst things. no one can tell till she has really tried, how much beyond the natural turn of existence almost any garment may be made to last and wear to preserve an appearance of respectability by a judicious and persevering use of needle and thread. but boots, especially boys' boots, are unmanageable in a woman's hands, and, indeed, in any hands beyond a certain stage of dilapidation; and every one knows, that whatever else may be old, and patched, and shabby, good boots are absolutely indispensable to the keeping up of an appearance of respectability, and, indeed, one may say, with some difference, to the keeping of a lad's self-respect. the boots were matters of serious consideration. as to the firewood, there is a great difference as to the comfort to be got out of the same quantity of firewood, depending on the manner in which it is used, but even with the utmost care and economy, it will consume away, and in a country where during seven months of the year fires are needed, a great deal must consume away. even more than the consideration given to the boots, the wood had to be considered, and it was all the more a matter of difficulty, as economy in that direction was a new necessity. boots had always been a serious matter to the inglises, but wood had been plentiful at gourlay. however, there were boots enough, and wood enough, and to spare, and things that were vexing to endure, were only amusing to look back upon, and when spring came, none of the inglises looked back on the winter with regret, or forward to the summer with dread, and so their first year in singleton came happily to an end. chapter ten. it was saturday afternoon and a holiday with the schoolboys, of course. it was a holiday to them all, for mrs inglis and violet were out of doors too, sitting on the gallery in the sunshine, and davie was coming home. he was at the moment crossing the bridge at a great pace, and so eager to be among them, that instead of going soberly round by the gate, as he was accustomed to do, he took jem's fashion and swung himself first over the side of the bridge, and then over the fence into the garden. they might well look surprised, and all the more so that it was high water, and he had to scramble along the unsteady fence and through the willows before he could get to the grass dry shod. "well done, davie! you are growing young again," said jem. david sat down on the steps at his mother's feet laughing and breathless. "is it a half holiday?" asked his mother. "yes; frank came to the bank and begged mr caldwell to let me go out in the boat with him and his brother this afternoon." "and he was willing to let you go, i suppose?" "yes; he was not quite sure about the boat, and he said i must come first and ask you, mamma." "a long walk and a short sail. it won't pay, davie," said jem. "you would not have cared, would you, mamma?" "but i must have come at any rate to change my clothes. we shall very likely get wet." "how very prudent!" said jem. "very proper," said his mother. "well, be quick, or you'll keep them waiting. it is well to be you," said jem. "i wish the high and mighty phil oswald would ask me to sail with him." "perhaps he may; he is bringing the boat here. mamma, i have some good news." the children gathered round to listen. "that is why you came jumping over the fence, instead of coming round by the gate," said ned. "violet knows it!" said jessie; "look at her face." "no, i don't know it. i might, perhaps, guess it." it was no very wonderful news. only that mr caldwell had reminded david that he had that day been a year in the office, and that next year his salary was to be raised. not much. it did not seem a great sum even to ned and jessie. but it was worth a great deal more than the mere money value, because it implied that david was getting to understand his work, and that his employer knew it, and had confidence in him. the mother said something like this to him and to them all, and she was very much pleased. "our davie will be a rich man some day!" said jem. "i thought i was to be the rich man of the family, but it don't look like it now." "it will be a while first," said david. "you will be a banker," said ned. "i am afraid i ought to be gardener this afternoon," said david, looking round on the garden. "no use. the water is rising. we shall be flooded yet," said jem. "there is no time lost yet," said his mother. "it is better that we should be a little late, than that the water should cover the earth after the seeds are sown." the broad, shallow channel at the end of the garden was full, and the willows that fringed the bit of green grass were far out into the water. the water almost touched the bridge across the road, and filled the hollow along the embankment. "and, besides, you are going to sail," said jem. "i think it would be quite as pleasant to stay here." they were all sitting on the little gallery before the house. it must have been a charming place once, when the river could be seen from it, and the pretty view beyond. at present, nothing could be seen on that side but the high embankment, and the few rods of garden-ground. on the other side were the willows, already green and beautiful, and some early-budding shrubs and the grass. then there was the water, flowing down between the two bridges, and, over all, the blue sky and the sweet spring air. it was a charming place still, or it seemed so to david and them all. the garden-beds had already been made, and a great many green things were springing here and there, and, on a rugged old apple-tree and on some plum and cherry trees, the buds were beginning to show themselves. the children were eager to be at work, but, for the present, that was not to be thought of. however, there was much to be said about the garden, and about the seeds which were to be sown, and jessie was eager about a plan for covering the high embankment with squash-vines and scarlet-runners. fred wanted to keep bees, and ducks if they could have them, but bees certainly; and amid the happy clamour which their voices made there came a shout, and, from under the railway bridge from the river, a boat was seen advancing. "here we are at last!" called out frank oswald; "and it looks very much as if here we must stay. we cannot get any further, phil." the inglis children were soon as near the boat as the willows and the water would permit. there seemed to be no way of getting the boat to the bank, for the willows were far out into the water, and through them it could not be forced. "you'll have to land on the other side and go round by the bridge," said jem. they were not using oars. that would have been impossible in a channel so narrow. they were pushing the boat through the water by means of a long pole, but it was not very easily managed, because of the shallowness of the water and the bushes that grew on the margin. "jem is right; we must go to the other side," said frank. "not i," said his brother, as he planted his pole firmly on the bank, measuring the distance with his eye. then throwing himself forward with a sudden spring, he was over the willows and over the water beyond, landing safely on the nicely-prepared onion-bed. "well done!" cried jem. "not at all well done," said frank, who had only saved himself from being overturned into the water by grasping a branch near him. philip only laughed, as he shook hands with mrs inglis and violet. "take my place in the boat and have a row on the river," said he, as he sat down on the steps near them. "i have had enough of it for awhile." jem was nothing loth, but he looked at his mother for permission. "is it quite safe, do you think?" asked she hesitating. "oh! quite safe. frank understands all about it; and so does jem, i dare say." "mamma!" entreated ned. "and mamma!" entreated jessie. on the gourlay river the boys had paddled about at their own pleasure, and their mother was not inclined to be unreasonably anxious about them. she knew it would be a great delight to them all to be permitted to go. "but there is not room for all; and mr oswald will not care to be troubled with so many children." "let them go with the boys--there is no danger, and i will wait here," said philip. "only you must promise to come back within a reasonable time, jem." "all right!" said jem. "i promise. come along violet. there is room for you, and polly too." but mr philip thought there was not room for all, and mrs inglis would not trust little mary with them, so they went without them. this was mr philip's first visit to the bridge house. mrs inglis had seen him at church, and david had seen him a good many times at the bank. he had been at home a week or two, and violet had, of course, seen him every day. david had acknowledged that he did not like him very much, and jem called him "a swell," and spoke contemptuously of his fine clothes and fine manners. violet had taken his part, and said he was just like other people. he was very kind to his little sisters, she said. there had been a good deal said about him in one way or another, and mrs inglis regarded him with curiosity and interest. he was a good-looking lad, with a pleasant face and manner. "just like other people," did not quite do him justice. mrs inglis could not help thinking jem's idea of "a swell" did not suit him certainly. he was not "fine," on the present occasion, either in dress or manners. david had said very little about about him, but he had not approved of him, and, seeing the young man now so frank and friendly, she could not but wonder why. they did not go into the house, and by and by they all crossed the garden and went up on the railway track to watch the boat; and, being a little behind the others, leading little mary between them, his mother asked david what was the reason of his dislike. "dislike! mamma," said david, in surprise. "i don't dislike him. i don't know him very well. he has had very little to say to me. why should you think that i dislike him?" "perhaps dislike is too strong a word. but i fancied that you did not quite approve of him, david." "approve of him! well--he is not one of us--of our kind of people, i mean. he does not look at things as we do. i don't dislike him, mamma, but i don't care about him." "which means he doesn't care about you?" said his mother, smiling. david laughed. "he certainly does not. he is much too great a man to have anything to say to me. but i don't think that is the reason that i don't `approve' of him, as you say. he is not in earnest about anything. he is extravagant--he spends a great deal of money foolishly. but i ought not to speak of that. mr caldwell told me, and he seemed quite as well pleased that we should have little to say to one another. he said frank was the better companion for jem and me." "i dare say that is true," said his mother. but all this did not prevent the young people from having a very pleasant afternoon together. the boat came back after "a reasonable time," and then the others went for a sail, and david acknowledged that mr philip was in earnest about his rowing, at any rate, and permitted himself to admire his activity and skill. when the boat was brought in among the willows again, it was almost dark. "suppose we leave it here?" said frank. "it will be quite safe, and we can send for it on monday." "it would not be a bad place to leave it here altogether," said his brother. jem was delighted with the idea, and said so; but david gave his mother a doubtful look. "come in to tea," said she, "and you can decide about it afterwards." the oswalds had not dined, but they did not refuse the invitation, as, for a single minute, violet hoped they might. the simple arrangements of her mother's table were not at all like those which miss oswald considered necessary in her father's house, but they were faultless in their way, and violet was ashamed of her shame almost as soon as she was conscious of it. "aunt mary," said frank, after they were seated at the table, "won't you ask me to spend the afternoon here to-morrow? i like your sundays." mrs inglis did not answer for a moment, but jem answered for her. "all right, frank! come straight from church. your father will let you, won't he?" "if aunt mary were to ask me, he would. i am not sure, otherwise," said frank. "what do you say, aunt mary?" philip looked at him in astonishment. "never mind, phil," said frank. "aunt mary and i understand." "we are old friends," said mrs inglis, smiling. "i think he is very bold," said his brother. "what if i were to insist on being invited in that persistent way?" "that would be quite different," said frank. "you are a stranger. i was often here last winter. i am one of the children when i am here. aunt mary does not make a stranger of me." "but, frank," said jessie, "david is away now on sunday afternoon, and violet and jem. and, perhaps, mamma will let us all go, and go herself, if there are any more children." "where?" asked frank. "at sunday-school--down on muddy lane. mr caldwell's sunday-school." "old caldwell!" said frank. "that's the way, is it? how do you like it, davie?" "sunday-school is not a new thing to us, you know," said david. "but it is a new thing for you to be a teacher," said jem. "oh! he likes it. davie's a great man on sunday, down in muddy lane." "nonsense, jem!" "i went once," said jessie, "and it is very nice. letty sings, and the children sing too. and one of the girls broke letty's parasol--" and mrs inglis's attention being occupied for the moment, jessie gave other particulars of the school, quite unmindful of her sister's attempts to stop her. ned had something to tell, too, and entered into minute particulars about a wager between two of the boys, as to whether mr caldwell wore a wig or not, and the means they took to ascertain the truth about it. "they must be rather stupid not to know that," said frank. "do you like it?" asked philip of violet. "yes, indeed! i like it very much. but i don't like ned's telling tales out of school, nor jessie, either." "but mine are not bad tales. i like it too," said jessie. "but i should think it would be very unpleasant. and what is the good of it? muddy lane of all places!" said philip, making an astonished face. "that shows that you don't know aunt mary and her children," said frank, laughing. "you would never ask what is the good, if you did." "i know, of course, there must be good to the children, but i should think it would be decidedly unpleasant for you. muddy lane cannot be a nice place at any time, and now that the warm weather is coming--" "you don't suppose violet is one of the people who is afraid of a little dust, or bad odours, and all that, do you?" asked frank. "she rather likes it--self-denial and all that," said jem. "and as for davie--" "nonsense, jem! self-denial indeed! there is very little of that," said david. "you know better than that, if frank does not." "and old caldwell, of all people in the world," said philip, laughing; "i did not suppose he could speak to any one younger than fifty--except davie. what can he have to say to children, i wonder?" "oh, he has enough to say. you ought to hear him," said jem. "thank you. i'll come and hear him--to-morrow, perhaps." "mr caldwell did not like the new hymn-book at first," said jessie. "but the children like them, and letty teaches them to sing, and it is very nice. i hope we can go to-morrow." "i hope so," said mr philip. "but you don't care about such things, do you?" asked jessie. "i ought to care, ought i not?" "yes; but you ought not just to make believe care." mr philip laughed a little. "there is no make believe about it. i shall like to go to-morrow very much." they were all away from the table by this time, and frank sat down with david on the window seat. he put his arm round his shoulder, boyish fashion, and laid his head down upon it. "is it military duty you are doing, davie, down in muddy lane?" said he, softly. all the talk that had been going on had put david out a good deal, and he did not answer for a minute. it seemed to him that a great deal had been made of a little matter, and he was not well pleased. "don't you remember about the `armour,'" said frank. "don't frank?" said david. it hurt him to think that frank should make a jest of that. "indeed i am not jesting, davie. that is one way of fighting the good fight--is it not? and i want to have a good long talk about it again." "with mamma, you mean." "yes, and with you. don't you remember hobab and old tim?" david did not answer in words, and both the boys sat silent, while the others grew eager in discussing quite other things. it was growing dark, and philip decided that it would be better to leave the boat and walk home. then something was said about future sails, and then philip told them of a friend of his who was going to be one of a party who were to explore the country far west. he was going to try and persuade his father to let him join it. it was an exploring company, but a good many were to join it for the sake of the hunting and fishing, and the adventures that might fall in their way. they were to be away for months, perhaps for the whole summer, and a great deal of enjoyment was anticipated. jem listened intently. "that would just suit me, mamma," said he, with a sigh. "i dare say it would be pleasant for a while," said she, smiling. "it would hardly suit you to lose a summer out of your life, jem," said david, sharply. jem whistled. "you are there! are you, david? no, that wouldn't suit me, exactly." "lose a year out of his life! what can you mean?" said mr philip, in astonishment. "what would come out of such a summer, except just the pleasure of it?" said david. "well! there would be a great deal of pleasure. what else would you have?" david made no answer. "davie means that there is something besides one's pleasure to be considered in this world," said frank. "david means that jem can find pleasure and profit without going so far for them," said mrs inglis. "david is a young prig," said mr philip to himself, and as they were going home he said it to his brother in decided terms. "that's your idea of it, is it?" said frank. "you know just about as much of davie and aunt mary, and that sort of people, as i know about the emperor of china. i know there _is_ such a person, and that is all i do know." philip laughed. "it is never too late to learn, and if they have no objection, i mean to know them better." "they are not your kind of people," said frank, decidedly. "you mean they are very good and religious and all. i am not a heathen or a turk, frank, my boy." "i could never make you understand the difference," said frank, gravely. "never make you understand!" said philip, mimicking his voice and manner. "i think i can understand them pretty well without your help. don't trouble yourself. they are just like other people. it is true that mrs inglis looks just as much of a lady in her plain gown and in that shabby room as she could in any of the fine drawing-rooms, and that is more than could be said of some of the ladies i know. she is a good woman, too, i am sure. as for davie, he is a young prig--though he is good, too, i dare say. violet is a little modest flower. they are very nice, all of them, but they are not beyond my powers of comprehension, i fancy, frank, lad." "all right, if you think so," said frank. philip was amused and a little vexed at his brother's persistency. "do you know them, frank,--`understand' them, as you call it?" "i know they are very different from us, and from all the people we know most about, and i think i know what makes the difference, though i don't quite understand it. you would know what i mean if you had seen mr inglis and knew the kind of life he lived." "i have seen, and i know what his character was. he was an unworldly sort of man, i believe." "he did not live for his own pleasure," said frank, gravely. "he wasn't his own. he lived to serve his master. i can't tell you. you should speak to davie or violet about him, or to aunt mary." "well, so i will, some day," said philip. frank made no reply. in the meantime mr philip was being just as freely discussed by the young people they had left. jem was delighted with their new friend. he was a fine fellow, not at all "swell," as he had supposed. jem grew enthusiastic over his friendliness, his boat, his rowing, and hoped he might come often. so did the little ones. "david does not like him," said violet. "i liked him this afternoon well enough," said david. "yes, he was nice this afternoon; but he is not always nice with his sisters. he is good to the little ones," said violet. "i dare say his sisters are not very good to him. i can easily believe it," said jem. "he is not like the people we have been taught to admire," said david. "he always thinks of himself first," said violet. "and he is not really in earnest about anything." "mamma, listen to davie and letty speaking evil of their neighbours," said jem. "not speaking evil, i hope," said mrs inglis, "but still not speaking with charity, i am afraid." "i was not speaking evil of him, mamma," said violet. "i only meant that he does not care for anything very much, except to amuse himself. i think he is rather foolish, but i would not speak evil of him." "see that you don't, then," said jem. "he made himself very agreeable this afternoon, that is all we need say," said mrs inglis. "we are not likely to see very much of him in future." nothing more was said at that time. they saw a good deal of both brothers during the next few weeks. but they saw nothing for a good while that inclined either violet or davie to change their opinion of the elder one. the next day frank came home with them from church. he was the only one of the family at church that day, for it had rained in the morning, and they were not very regular churchgoers at the best of times. "papa said i might go home with you, if aunt mary asked me," said frank, as he joined them at the door. "come on, then," said jem. "mamma doesn't approve of sunday visiting, as a general thing, but you are one of ourselves by this time. mamma, ask frank to come." mrs inglis smiled. "come and read with the children, frank," said she. frank was only too happy to go. he did not go to the sunday-school with the others, but chose to stay at home with mrs inglis and little mary. but the first person the others saw when they came to muddy lane was mr philip, waiting for them at the corner, as though it were the most natural and proper thing in the world for him to be there. "i came to hear what your friend mr caldwell has to say to-day, jem," said he. "all right!" said jem. "he will have something appropriate to say about sabbath-breaking, i dare say." "i am sure i don't know why," said philip, laughing. "he'll tell you why," said jem. david did not say it was all right, nor think it. indeed, it proved to his mind to be all wrong, for mr caldwell did not make his appearance at all. "to think of his failing to-day, of all days," said david. they waited for him a long time, till the children became restless and impatient. "we ought to begin, davie," said violet. "yes. i wouldn't mind if we were by ourselves." "why should you mind now? go ahead, davie. if he laughs, i'll knock him down," said jem. it was very foolish in violet to laugh, and very wrong, too, she knew; but she could not help it. jem's idea of the way to keep order was so absurd. david did not laugh. he looked anxious, and at a loss, and a little indignant at his sister's amusement. "i beg your pardon, davie. let us just go on us usual," she entreated. "why should you mind?" and so they did go on. they sung a hymn very well; at least, they sung with a great deal of spirit. there were some clear, sweet voices among the children, and they all seemed to enjoy singing so much it could not be otherwise than agreeable to those who were listening, and violet did her best. then david, very reverently, but not very firmly, took mr caldwell's duty upon himself, and offered a few words of prayer; and then the children repeated together the lord's prayer, and after that everything went well enough. david and violet took their usual places, with their classes round them, and jem suggested to mr philip that he should take mr caldwell's rough-looking boys in hand "and give them a talk." "hear them repeat their verses, and tell them a story. you can do it as well as mr c. shall i tell them that you are the new minister?" "thank you. i will introduce myself. i ought to be able to say something to these young rascals. i hope they won't find me out." he seemed to get on very well. jem would have liked to get rid of the three little fellows for whom he was responsible, so as to hear what he was saying. the boys liked it, evidently; at least they listened with great interest; and one would have thought that mr philip was quite accustomed to the work, he did it so easily. the boys laughed more than once, and grew eager and a little noisy; but their teacher was perfectly grave and proper, and did not give jem the shadow of an excuse for wishing to "knock him down." he congratulated him when it was all over. "yes; i flatter myself it was the right man in the right place this time," said mr philip. "you didn't think i could do as well as old caldwell, did you." jem shrugged his shoulders. "yes, you could do it, once in a way, after a fashion, at any rate." but though jem spoke so coldly to philip himself, he was enthusiastic in his praises of him when they were giving their mother the history of the afternoon after frank had gone home. "he can do anything, i think," said he. "he was not at a loss for a moment. i believe, if he had been put to it, he could have done the whole business as well as davie did, and he did it very well." david said nothing, but violet repeated her opinion as to their new friend's want of earnestness. "if it had been the most foolish thing in the world, he would have done it just as well, and just as willingly, if he had thought it was expected of him to do it." "are you not a little severe on him?" said her mother. "no, mamma; i don't mean to be severe. he would think it a great compliment paid to him, though you don't think it nice. he does not look seriously at life. he amuses himself with everything. just compare him with our davie." david had gone out before she said this. "nonsense! letty. our davie is a boy still, and mr philip is a man. he has completed the course at the university, you know quite well." "our davie is far more manly than he, for all that. and so are you, jem. davie is worth two of him." "a great deal more than two of him to us, letty," said her mother, laughing. "still, i am inclined to think with jem, that you are a little hard on him." "yes, she does not like him," said jem. "and it is odd, too, for he likes her, and you, mamma, and all of us." "oh! yes; i dare say he does. we amuse him for the moment. i know him better than you do, jem. i have seen him every day for a fortnight, you know. i like him very well, but i don't think he is reliable. he is not in earnest," repeated violet, solemnly. "and sunday-school teaching is not a proper thing to amuse one's self with. it would spoil all the pleasure of it to have him come there always. however, there is no danger. he will find something else to amuse him." violet was right, as far as philip's coming to muddy lane was concerned. he did not make his appearance there again for a very long time after that sunday. but, having nothing better to do, he seemed quite inclined to cultivate the acquaintance of the young inglises, and came to the bridge house a good deal. once or twice he brought his little sisters and violet down in the boat to tea, and several times he came there after having been down the river fishing. once or twice david, coming home earlier than the others, found him sitting quietly with his mother and little mary, to all appearance perfectly satisfied with the entertainment he was receiving; and his entertainers seemed satisfied too. david began to consider these frequent visits as an infliction to be borne patiently, and violet adhered to her first opinion; but, with jem and the children, he was a great favourite. even the mother was inclined to make excuses for his faults, and was very kind to him when he came. the mother knew more about him than the rest did, for he told her a great deal about himself and his past life during the quiet afternoons he passed with her and little mary. and having seen more, and suffered more, she was inclined to have more patience with his weaknesses than they. it had been understood all along, that, as soon as philip's course at the university was over, he was to take his place in his father's office, and to give all his time and thoughts to his father's business. he had never been quite pleased with the idea, and had all along hoped that something might happen to render unnecessary a step so distasteful to him. nothing had happened, and he was inclined to fancy that he was making a sacrifice to his father's business and his father's desire for wealth, and to claim sympathy because of this. "and would you be a great help to your father?" asked mrs inglis, one day, when he had got thus far. "i don't know. i am sure i don't think so, hating business as i do. but he must think so, or he would not be so bent on my coming to the office and tying myself down. it will come to that, i dare say," said he, with a sigh. mrs inglis smiled. "is it not possible that he may wish it for your sake rather than his own? and how do you know that you hate business? you have never given it a fair trial, have you?" "no, i have not tried it steadily," said he, answering her last question first. "but then one can tell what one does not like without trying it very long. i dare say my father thinks it would be a good thing for me to fix myself at the bank. but a man must judge for himself before he submits to be tied down for life." "but is it not possible that it is the tying down which is distasteful? and every man must submit to be tied down to something. what would you like to do better." "oh! almost anything. i should like the profession of the law better." and then he added, after a little, "i should like it better for one thing. i need not enter an office till the autumn." "i am afraid it is the tying down that is the trouble, after all," said she. "no, i assure you--not altogether--though, i acknowledge, it would be a fine thing to let business slide--to have nothing at all to do." "i do not agree with you. i think it would be the very worst thing that could happen to you to have nothing to do," said mrs inglis, gravely. "to me, especially, do you mean? well, i don't quite mean that; but i think mr caldwell was right when he told my father that, if he had meant me for business, he should have put me to it long ago." "do you mean that you regret having been sent to the university?" "i mean that i should have been fit for my work by this time, and, probably, content with it. a university is not needed there." "you must not be angry with me if i say you are talking foolishly," said mrs inglis, "and, indeed, ungratefully, when you say that. do you mean that your education will be a disadvantage to you?" "no; except by making business distasteful to me. i mean, it has given me other interests and other tastes--something beyond the desire to make money." "doubtless, that was your father's intention--to make you an intelligent man as well as a banker--not a mere money-maker. and his wish ought to decide you to give the business of his office a fair trial, since you do not seem to have a preference for any other." "i have a very decided preference for a trip across the country. don't look grave, aunt mary. these are my holidays. by and by will be time to settle down to work." "i thought you were no longer a schoolboy?" "no, i am not; but i should like to go--to the red river, perhaps. it would be a fine trip for davie in his vacation, too, and its cost would be little--comparatively." "davie does not expect a vacation--or only a week or two." "davie is quite a steady old gentleman," said philip. mrs inglis smiled. "i don't suppose you mean that quite as a compliment to my boy. i am very glad it is true, nevertheless." "you don't suppose i would venture to say anything not complimentary to your boy to you, do you? or that i would wish to say it to any one? but he _does_ take life so seriously. he is so dreadfully in earnest. one would think that davie was years and years older than i am." "yes, in some things." "but, aunt mary, such precocious sobriety and wisdom are unnatural and unwholesome. davie is too wise and grave for his years." "he is not too wise to do very foolish things sometimes; and he is the merriest among the children at home, though we don't hear his voice quite so often as jem's. and you must remember that davie's experience has been very different from yours." "yes, aunt mary, i know. frank has told me how happy you all were, and how davie was always so much with his father. it must have been very terrible for you all." "and, philip, davie has tried to take his father's place among us. davie is our bread-winner, in a measure. we have had many cares and anxieties together. no wonder that he seems to you to be grave and older than his years." "aunt mary, what an idle, good-for-nothing fellow you must think me," said philip, putting down little mary, who had been sitting on his knee, and standing before his aunt. "not good-for-nothing, certainly. perhaps, a little idle and thoughtless. there is time for improvement and--room. let us hope you will know your own mind soon, which you certainly do not now." "let us hope so," said philip, with a sigh. "here comes davie! now, observe him! he will not look in the least glad to see me." "where are all the rest?" said davie, coming in. "davie, do you know, i have been persuading your mother to let you go with me to the red river," said philip. "wouldn't you like it?" "it is very good of you. yes, i dare say i would like it. what does mamma say?" "she thinks you are too useful a man to be spared so long. what would mr caldwell do without you?" "when are you coming to help him?" said david. "after i come home in the autumn. i cannot bring myself to davie's standard of steadiness all at once, aunt mary. i must have a little time." "there is none to lose," said mrs inglis gravely. chapter eleven. about this time it was announced to the world in general, that miss oswald's marriage was to take place immediately. her friends thought she had been very kind and considerate to stay with her father and her brothers and sisters so long. miss oswald was a discreet young lady, and knew how to manage her own affairs to her own satisfaction. perhaps the knowledge that her own establishment must be in a different style from that of her father's, helped her considerateness a little, and made her more willing to continue at home. however that might be, when her father set before her certain reasons for economy in household matters, for decided retrenchment indeed, she very considerately suggested that her aunt livy would be a very suitable person to see her father's wishes in this direction carried out, and advised that she should be sent for, and then she set about her own preparations. with these, of course, no one at the bridge house had anything to do, except violet. but for the glimpses that she had behind the scenes, she might have been a little dazzled and unsettled by the gaiety and splendour in the midst of which she found herself. for miss oswald's arrangements were on the grandest scale. everything that she considered "proper" on the occasion, she exacted to the uttermost, with no thoughts of necessary economy. there were fine clothes, fine presents, a fine wedding breakfast, and the proper number of fine brides-maids, of whom violet was one. even the wise and sensible letty was not above a feeling of girlish delight in being prettily dressed and admired as one of the gay company; but the knowledge that she was only chosen at the last minute to supply the place of a young lady whose illness had disarranged miss oswald's plans, and a few other drawbacks, kept her from being unduly elated with the honour and pleasure, and she was very glad when it was all over, and so was everybody concerned. so miss oswald went away. mrs mavor and miss livy came to the big house to reign in her stead, and all in it were beginning to settle down to a quiet and happy summer again. but trouble came first. scarlet fever had broken out in the neighbourhood of the bridge house, and in other parts of the town, and first little polly took it, and then jessie and ned, and violet came home to help her mother to nurse them. they were not very ill--that is, the fever did not run very high, and at no time did the doctor suppose them to be in danger, but there was much anxiety and fatigue in taking care of them. the weather was very hot, too, and the bridge house stood too low to catch the infrequent breeze, and though they were soon able to be up and even to be out of doors, the children did not get strong. in the meantime both charlotte and sarah oswald had taken the disease, and mr oswald himself came to the bridge house to entreat that violet might be permitted to come to them. their sister selina had gone away after the wedding to visit in a distant city, and as she had never had the disease, her father did not like to send for her to come home. the children did not take to their aunt. it had been possible to get on when they were very ill, but when they began to be better they were peevish and fretful, and aunt livy could not please them, and nothing would do but violet must come to them again. it did not seem possible that she could leave home, but david was to be spared as much as possible to help with the little ones, and so she went. but between her anxiety for the children at home, and her weariness with the little oswalds, she had rather a hard time of it. frank helped her for a while, but he was not very well, and was threatened with the old trouble in his eyes, so that he was not a very cheerful companion, either for her or the children. mr philip had commenced an irregular sort of attendance at the bank, but he had a good deal of time still at his disposal, and kindly bestowed a share of it on his little sisters. "philip could be very nice when he liked," they agreed, and he very often "liked" about this time. he went sometimes to the bridge house, too, and was as popular as ever among the little people there. they were not getting well very fast. charlotte and sarah were up and out in the garden, and able to amuse themselves with their dolls and their games, when violet, going home one day, found jessie and ned languid and fretful, and poor wee polly lying limp and white in her cot. her mother looked worn and anxious, david came home with a headache, and jem was the only one among them whose health and spirits were in a satisfactory condition. "i cannot stay to-night, mamma, because they expect me back," said violet. "but i shall come home to-morrow. they don't need me half as much as you do, and i must come. you are sick yourself, mamma." "no, i am tired, that is all; and the weather is so warm. don't come till the children are well. it is your proper place there, and even you cannot help us here while the weather is so warm." it was very hot and close, and violet fancied that from the low fields beyond, where there was water still standing, a sickly odour came. "no wonder they don't get strong," said she. mr oswald had spoken in the morning about sending his little girls to the country, or to the seaside. the doctor had suggested this as the best thing that could be done for them. violet thought of their large house, with its many rooms, and of the garden in which it stood, and looked at her little sisters and brothers growing so pale and languid in the close air, which there was no hope of changing, with a feeling very like envy or discontent rising in her heart. "mamma," said she, "it is a dreadful thing to be poor;" and then she told of the plan for sending the oswalds away for change of air, and how they were already well and strong in comparison to their own poor darlings, and then she said, again, "it is a dreadful thing to be so poor." "we are not so poor as we might be?" said her mother, gravely. "think how it would have been if we had lost one of them, dear. god has been very good to us, and we must not be so ungrateful as to murmur because we have not all that others have, or all that we might wish for." "i know it, mamma. but look at these pale cheeks. poor wee polly! she is only a shadow of our baby. if we could only send her to gourlay for a little while." "do you think her looking so poorly? i think it is the heat that is keeping them all so languid. don't look so miserable. if it is necessary for them to go to the country, we shall manage to send them in some way. but we are quite in the country here, and when we have had rain the air will be changed, and the heat may be less, and then they will all be better." "have you made any plan about going to the country?" asked violet, eagerly. "no, my dear. i trust it will not be necessary. it could not be easily managed," said mrs inglis, with a sigh. "if we were only not quite so poor," said violet. "i say, letty, don't you think mamma has trouble enough without your bother?" said jem, sharply, as his mother went out of the room. violet looked at him in astonishment. "if we were only not quite so poor!" repeated jem, in the doleful tone she had used. "you have said that three times within half an hour. you had better stay up at the big house, if that is all the good you can do by coming home." "that will do, jem! don't spoil your sermon by making it too long," said david, laughing. "sermon! no, i leave that to you, davie. but what is the use of being so dismal? and it isn't a bit like letty." "but, jem, it is true. the children look so ill, and if they could only get a change of air--" "and don't you suppose mamma knows all that better than you can tell her? what is the good of telling her? she has been looking all day for you to come and cheer us up and brighten us a little, and now that you have come you are as dismal as--i don't know what. you have been having too easy times lately, and can't bear hardness," said jem, severely. "have i?" said violet, with an uncertain little laugh. "softly, jem, lad!" said his mother, who had come in again. "i think she has been having a rather hard time, only it will not do her much good to tell her so." "i dare say jem is right, mamma, and i am cross." "not cross, letty, only dismal, which is a great deal worse, i think," said jem. "well, i won't be dismal any more to-night, if i can help it. davie, take polly, and, mamma, lie down on the sofa and rest while i make the tea. jem, you shall help me by making up the fire. we will all have tea to-night, because i am a visitor." "all right!" said jem. "anything to please all round; and the hot tea will cool us nicely, won't it?" "it will refresh us at any rate." and so the little cloud passed away, and violet's cheerfulness lasted through the rest of the visit, and up to the moment that she bade jem good-bye at mr oswald's gate. it did not last much longer, however. it was nearly dark, and mr oswald and his sister and frank were sitting on the lawn to catch the faint breeze that was stirring among the chestnut trees. "i thought you were not coming home to-night," said miss livy, in an aggrieved tone. "i was detained," said violet. "how are the children?" "they are in bed at last. you should not have told them that you would be home before their bed-time, unless you had intended to come. however, they are in bed now. pray don't go and disturb them again. philip had to go to them at last. he is up-stairs now. they are dreadfully spoiled." violet dropped down in the nearest chair. "how are the children at home?" asked mr oswald, kindly. "they are--not better." "i hope they are not spoiled," said frank, laughing. "did they cry when you came away, violet?" "they were rather fretful. they are not strong." "you are not very well yourself, to-night," said mr oswald. "the change will do you as much good as any of them." "i am quite well," said violet. "we have been speaking about sending the girls to the country for a change of air," went on mr oswald. "will you go with them? betsey will go too, of course, but they will scarcely be happy without you, and the change will do you good." "thank you. you are very kind. but the children need me at home. i could not think of leaving mamma while they are so poorly to go away for pleasure." "it would not be quite all pleasure, i fancy," said mr philip. "they are asleep at last. it cannot be a very easy thing to keep them amused all day, as they are just now." "they are quite spoiled," said aunt livy. "oh! no. not quite. they are good little things in general, as children go. you can't judge now, aunt," said philip. "miss inglis, are you not a little dismal to-night?" "so jem told me. i am tired. i think i shall say good-night and go up-stairs." "it should be settled at once about the children, where they are to go, and who is to go with them," said aunt livy. "there is no haste," said mr oswald. "perhaps the children at home may be better able to spare you in a day or two, miss violet." "thank you. it would be very pleasant, but--" "why not send all together?" said philip. "ned and jessie and wee polly, with charlotte and sarah? i dare say they would all be better of a change, poor little souls!" "i dare say they can do without it, thank you," said violet, stiffly. "for what? my suggestion? they would like it, i am sure." "people cannot get all they like in this world." "violet," said frank, solemnly, "i believe you are cross." "i am almost afraid i am," said violet, laughing uneasily. "for the first time in your life. something dreadful must have happened at the bridge house to-day!" "no; nothing happened." "the children are not better, that is what is the matter," said philip; "though it ought not to make you cross, only sorry. depend on it, it is change they want," said philip, with the air of a doctor. "it is worth thinking about; and it would be very nice if they could all go together, with you to take care of them," said mr oswald. "very nice for our little girls, i mean. think of it, and speak to your mother." "thank you; i will," said violet. "much they know about it," said she to herself, as she went up-stairs in the dark. "an extra orange or a cup of strawberries for the little darlings has to be considered in our house, and they speak of change as coolly as possible. and i didn't know better than to trouble mamma with just such foolish talk. we must try and have mamma and polly go to gourlay for a week or two. june not half over, and how shall we ever get through the two not months! oh, dear! i am so tired!" violet was so tired in the morning that she slept late, and a good many things had happened next morning before she came down-stairs. when she opened the dining-room door she thought, for a minute, she must be sleeping still and dreaming; for, instead of the usual decorous breakfast-table, aunt livy seemed to be presiding at a large children's party. everybody laughed at her astonished face, and little mary held out her arms to be taken. "my precious wee polly! have you got a pair of wings?" said she, clasping and kissing her little sister. "we are to stay all day, if we are good. you are to tell mamma how we behave," said jessie. "we came in a carriage, with mr philip and jem." violet looked a little anxiously from aunt livy to mr oswald, and saw nothing to make her doubt the children's welcome. mr oswald smiled; miss livy nodded. "they seem very well-behaved children," said she. "not at all spoiled." "we haven't been here long," said jessie, gravely. "but we are going to be good, letty. we promised mamma." and they were very good, considering all things. still, it was a fatiguing day to violet. she followed them out and she followed them in; and when they grew tired, and their little legs and their tempers failed, she beguiled them into the wide gallery, shaded by vines, and told them stories, and comforted them with toys and picture-books and something nice to eat. it would have been a better day, as far as the visitors were concerned, if there had been less to see and to admire. but the great house and garden were beautiful and wonderful to their unaccustomed eyes, and they had tired themselves so utterly that they grew fretful and out of sorts, and were glad when it came night and time to go home; and so was violet. the next day they came they were stronger and better, but they needed constant attention, lest mischief should happen among them; and, on the third morning, violet was not sorry to hear the rain pattering on the window. not that she would have minded ten times the trouble for herself, so that the children were the better for it, but it was as well not to try miss livy's forbearance too far. miss livy had had very little to do with children since she was a child herself, and that little led her decidedly to agree with the generally-received opinion that the children of the present day are not so well brought up as children used to be. this opinion did not make her more patient with them, but rather less so; and so violet was not sorry for the rain that kept her little sisters at home. at breakfast, the subject of sending the little girls, charlotte and sarah, to the country for awhile was again brought up by their aunt, and, in the afternoon, violet, at mr oswald's request, went home to speak to her mother about it; but she had fully determined beforehand how the matter was to be decided, as far as she was concerned. however, everything was put out of her mind by the surprise that awaited her; for, at the bridge house, they were entertaining an angel unawares, in the person of miss bethia barnes. and was not violet glad to see her? so glad that she put her arms round her neck and kissed her, and then laughed and then cried a little, not quite knowing what she did. "it is good to see you, aunt bethia," said she. "you are the only one of the family who looks better for singleton," said miss bethia, regarding her with pleased wonder. miss bethia had considered violet a little girl when she left singleton; but she was a little girl no longer, but a young woman, and a very pretty young woman, too, miss bethia acknowledged. if violet had not been so glad to see her, and shown it so plainly as to disarm her, she must, even at the first moment, have uttered some word of counsel or warning, for to be pretty, and not aware of it, or vain of it, was a state of things that she could not believe in. however, she reserved her advice for a future occasion, and, in the meantime, drew her own conclusions from the brightening of the mother's face at the coming of her eldest daughter, and from the eager way in which little mary clung to her, and the others claimed her attention. "you must stay at home to-night, letty," said jem. "may i, mamma? i am to be sent for later; but may i not send a message that miss bethia has come, and that you cannot spare me?" "but i can spare you all the better that miss bethia is here," said her mother, smiling. "yes, i know mamma; but i want to stay so much." "you would not think it polite in her to go away to-night? now, would you? aunt bethia," said jem. "politeness ain't the only thing to think of," said miss bethia. "violet is not quite at our disposal just now," said mrs inglis; "and i am afraid you will be missed up there, dear, by the children. they have had the fever, too, poor little things, and their sister is away, and they hardly know this aunt yet, and violet has charge of them. they are fond of violet." "oh, yes! they are all fond of violet up there; but so are we," said jem. "let her stay, mamma." "and how do you like earning your living?" asked miss bethia. violet laughed. "oh, i like it. when did you come, miss bethia? you are not looking very well." "i haven't been well--had a sharp turn of rheumatism. i had some business, and i came yesterday." "and how are all the gourlay people? and you live in our house now. how strange it must seem! and what a shame that your old place is spoiled!" "i thought so at the time, but it might have been worse." and then violet had a great many questions to ask, and listened with many exclamations of wonder and pleasure to all that she heard; and miss bethia, pleased with the interest she displayed, made no pause till ned called out that young mr oswald was driving davie over the bridge, and that now violet would have to go. "mamma," said violet, "i have not told you why i came yet. mr oswald sent me, and i cannot tell it all at once. let me stay till after tea, and jem can take me home." "all right," said jem. "i have no objections, if nobody else has none." there was a little pleasant confusion after mr philip and david came in, two or three speaking at once, and all eager to be heard, and then mr philip was introduced to the visitor. there was no mistaking the look she bent upon him. it was searching and critical, admiring, but not altogether approving. "you have never been out gourlay way?" said she. "no, i never have, as yet." "he did not know what nice people the gourlay people are, or he would have been," said jem. "i expect so," said miss bethia. "it ain't too late to go yet." "thank you, miss barnes. i shall be happy to accept your kind invitation," said philip. in the meantime, violet had been telling her mother of mr oswald's proposal. it was a matter of too great importance to be dismissed with a single word of refusal, as violet would have liked, and time must be taken to consider it. "violet is not going with you, mr philip," said jessie. "she is going to stay and take tea with miss bethia." "i am sorry you should have had the trouble of coming round this way for nothing, mr philip," said mrs inglis. "we want violet a little while to-night. miss barnes does not know how soon she may go, and violet thinks she can be spared to-night, perhaps." "of course, she can be spared. and it was no trouble, but a pleasure, to come round. shall i come back again?" "pray, do not. jem will go with me. i shall like the walk." "all right!" said jem. "i consider myself responsible for her. she will be up there at the proper time." "all right!" said philip cheerfully. "aunt mary, you might ask me to have tea too." "you haven't had your dinner yet," said jessie. "and you could not keep your horse standing so long," said ned. "and, besides, i am not to be invited," said philip, laughing. they all watched him and his fine horse as they went over the bridge and along the street. then violet said: "now, mamma, you are to sit down and i am to get tea. i can do all quite well." and, so tying on an apron over her dress, she made herself very busy for the next half-hour, passing in and out, pausing to listen or put in her word now and then, sometimes claiming help from jem or davie in some household matter to which she put her hand. at last, with an air of pride and pleasure that miss bethia thought pretty to see, she called them to tea. "you have got to be quite a house-keeper," said miss bethia, as they sat down to the table. "hasn't she?" said jem and davie in a breath. "i mean to be, at any rate," said violet, nodding and laughing gaily. "i like it a great deal better than teaching children, only, you know, it doesn't pay quite so well." "i guess it will, in the long run," said miss barnes. "i am going to be house-keeper for the next two months. sarah and charlotte are to have no lessons for that time, and betsey can take care of them in the country quite as well as i--better, indeed. mamma needs me at home. don't you think so, davie? i can find enough to do at home; can't i?" "but, as you say, it wouldn't pay so well." "in one way, perhaps, it wouldn't, but in another way it would. but mamma doesn't say anything," added violet, disconsolately. "we must sleep upon it, mamma thinks," said jem. "we need not be in haste to decide upon it for a day or two," said mrs inglis. "i am afraid we must, mamma. the sooner the better, mr oswald says; and that is why i came to-day." "i wish you would come and keep house for me. i am getting tired of it," said miss bethia. "i should like it well--with mamma and the children." "of course, that is understood," said miss bethia. "and you could take these others with you, couldn't you? and what their father would pay for them would help your house-keeping." "miss bethia spoke as coolly as if she had been speaking about the stirring up of a johnny cake," jem said. violet looked eagerly from her to her mother. there was a little stir and murmur of excitement went round the table, but all awaited for their mother to speak. but she said nothing, and miss bethia went on, not at all as if she were saying anything to surprise anybody, but just as she would have told any piece of news. "i've thought of it considerable. serepta stone has concluded to go away to a water-cure place in the states. if debby should conclude to go to another place, i shouldn't care about staying in that big house alone. i can let it next fall, i expect. but this summer, mrs inglis, if you say so, you can have the house as well as not. it won't cost you a cent, and it won't be a cent's loss to me. and i don't see why that won't suit pretty well all round." a chorus of "ohs," and "ahs," and "dear mammas," went round the table. "it wouldn't cost more than living here," said david. "not so much," said miss bethia. "and i am sure mr oswald would be delighted to have charlotte and sarah go, mamma," said violet. "he would pay you the same as he'd pay to them at the other place, and he might be sure he would get the worth of his money," said miss bethia. "and i would keep house, and save you the trouble, mamma," said violet. "you and debby stone," said miss bethia, who seemed to consider that it was as much her affair as theirs, and so put in her word between the others. "davie, you'll have to lend me your fishing rod, to take to gourlay with me," said ned. "bless the child! there's fishing rods enough," said miss bethia. "it's mamma's turn to speak now," said jessie. and "yes, mamma!" and "oh! dear mamma!" were repeated again, eagerly. there would be no use in telling all that mrs inglis said, or all that miss bethia and the rest said. it was not quite decided that night that they were to pass a part of the summer in gourlay, but it looked so much like it that violet held a little private jubilation with little polly, as she undressed her for bed, before she went away, promising her, with many kisses and sweet words, that she would be rosy and strong, and as brown as a berry before she should see the bridge house again. before she was done with it, jem called out. "it is time to be going, letty, if i am to be responsible for you at the big house." "perhaps if you wait, mr philip will come for you. he said he would," said jessie. "and, just at the minute, he meant it, but we won't put him to the trouble, even if he remembers, which is doubtful," said violet. "come, jem, i am ready." "he seems a pretty likely young man, don't he?--young mr oswald, i mean," said miss bethia. the question was not addressed to any one in particular. jem looked at letty, and letty looked at davie, and they all laughed merrily. "likely," in miss bethia's vocabulary, meant well-intentioned, agreeable, promising, all in a moderate degree, and the description fell so far short of mr philip's idea of himself and his merits, and indeed of their idea of him that they could not help it. "he seems to be a pleasant-spoken youth, and good-natured," said miss bethia. "oh, yes! he is very good-natured," said violet. everybody had something to say in his praise. the little ones were quite enthusiastic. jem said he was "smart" as well as good-natured, and david, though he said less, acknowledged that he was very clever, and added mr caldwell's opinion, that mr philip had all his father's talent for business, and would do well if he were really in earnest about it, and would settle down to it. several instances of his kindness to the children and to his own little sisters were repeated, and mrs inglis spoke warmly in his praise. "only, mamma," said violet, with some hesitation, "all these things are agreeable to himself. he does such things because he likes to do them." "and ain't that to be put to his credit," said miss bethia. "it is well when one does right things and likes to do them, ain't it?" "yes; but people ought to do right things because they are right, and not just because they are pleasant. if very different things were agreeable to him, he would do them all the same." "stuff, letty! with your buts and your ifs. mr phil, is just like other people. it is only you and davie that have such high-flown notions about right and wrong, and duty, and all that." "our ideas of `duty and all that' are just like other people's, jem, i think," said david. "they are just like miss bethia's, at any rate, and mamma's." "and like jem's own ideas, though not like mr philip's" said violet. "violet means that if he had to choose between what is right and what is pleasant, the chances are he would choose to do what is pleasant," said davie. "he would not wait to choose," said violet, gravely. "he would just do what was pleasant without at all thinking about the other." "mamma, do you call that charitable?" said jem. "i think violet means--and davie--that his actions are, as a general thing, guided and governed by impulse rather than by principle," said mrs inglis; "and you know, jem, the same reliance cannot be placed on such a person as on--" "on a steady old rock, like mr caldwell or our davie," said jem. "yes, i know; still i like phil." "so we all like him," said violet. "but, as mamma says, we do not rely on him. he likes us and our ways, and our admiration of him, and he likes to come here and talk with mamma, and get good advice, and all that. but he likes to go to other places, and to talk with other people, who are as different from mamma as darkness is from daylight. he is so careless and good-tempered that anything pleases him for the moment. he has no stability. one cannot help liking him, but one cannot respect him." everybody looked surprised. jem whistled. "why don't you tell him so? it might do him good." "it wouldn't change his nature," said violet, loftily. and then she bade them all good-night, and she and jem went away, and miss bethia improved the occasion. "i expect that his nature has got to be changed before he amounts to much that is good. i hope, david, you will not let this frivolous young man lead you away from the right path." mrs inglis had gone out of the room, and david prepared himself for what he knew would come sooner or later, miss bethia's never-failing good advice. "you are none too wise to be drawn away by a pleasant-spoken, careless youth like that. his company might easily become a snare to you, and to jem too." "oh! he has very little to say to me, miss bethia. he is older than jem or i. he likes to talk to mamma, and you mustn't think ill of him from what was said to-night." "i suppose the trouble is in his bringing up," said miss bethia. "from all i hear, i should fear that his father hasn't a realising sense of the importance of religion for himself or his family, and what can be expected of his son?" david did not like the turn the conversation had taken, and he did not like the next better. "there is a great responsibility resting on you, david, with regard to the people among whom your lot is cast. it is to be hoped they'll be led to think more, and not less, of the master you serve from your walk and conversation." david made no answer. "david," said miss bethia, "have you been living a christian life since you came here? such a life as would have given comfort to your father, if he had been here to see it? have you been keeping your armour bright, david?" "i have been trying, miss bethia," said david. "well, it is something to have been trying. it is something not to be led away. but have you been content with that? you have a battle to fight--a work to do in just the spot you stand in, and if you are faithful, you may help that unstable youth to stand on firmer ground than his feet have found yet." david shook his head. "you don't know me, miss bethia, nor him, or you would not say that." "your father would have made it his business to do him good." "but i am not like my father, very far from that." "well, your father was nothing by himself. you are bound to do the same work, and you can have the same help. and it will pay in the long run. oh, yes! it will pay!" "i have been telling david that he may do that pleasant-spoken youth much good, if he is faithful to him and to himself," added she, as mrs inglis came into the room. "and i have been telling miss bethia that she does not know me, or him, or she wouldn't say that, mamma," said david. "she must know you by this time, i think, davie," said his mother, smiling. "i used to know him pretty well, and he seems to be getting along pretty much so. i don't know as i see any change for the worse in him. he has had great privileges, and he has great responsibility." "yes," said his mother, gravely; "and i quite agree with you, miss bethia, he may do mr philip good by a diligent and faithful performance of his daily duties, if in no other way. he has done so already." "oh, mamma!" said david, "miss bethia will think you are growing vain." "no, i sha'n't. but he must be faithful in word as well as in deed. oh! i guess he'll get along pretty well--david, i mean, not young mr oswald." jem came home while they were still talking. "mamma," said he, as he followed his mother out of the room, "we saw philip going into dick's saloon as we were going up the street and violet said he'd be just as pleased and just as popular there as in our own home among the children, and she said he was as weak as water. that is all she knows! violet is hard on phil." "she cannot think it right for him to spend his evenings in such a place," said his mother. "but he sees no harm in it, and i don't suppose there is much." "i should think it great harm for one of my boys," said his mother, gravely. "all right, mamma!" said jem. "but, then, as miss barnes says, our bringing up has been different." chapter twelve. when it was fairly decided that miss bethia's pleasant plan for the summer was possible, there was little time lost in preparation. miss bethia went away at once, to have all things ready for their coming, and in a few days mrs inglis and violet and the children followed. the little oswalds went with them, and jem and possibly frank oswald were to follow when their holidays commenced. whether david was to go or not, was to be decided later, but he did not let the uncertainty with regard to his own prospects of pleasure interfere with his in all that the others were to enjoy. he helped cheerfully in all the arrangements for their departure, and made light of his mother's anxiety and doubts as to the comfort of those who were to be left behind. but when they were gone, and jem and david left in the deserted house alone, they were neither of them very cheerful for a while. they were quite alone, for mrs lacy, the neighbour whom mrs inglis had engaged to care for their comfort, had a home of her own and little children to care for, and could only be there a part of the day. the unwonted silence of the house pressed heavily upon their spirits. "it's queer, too," said jem, who had been promising himself great enjoyment of the quiet time so that he might the better prepare for the school examinations that were coming on. "i used to think the children bothered with their noise and their chatter, but the stillness is ten, times more distracting, i think." david nodded assent. "they will be in gourlay long ago," said he. "i wonder how it will seem to mamma to go back again." jem looked grave. "it won't be all pleasure to her, i am afraid." "no; she will have many things to remember; but i think she would rather have gone to gourlay than anywhere else. i wish i could have gone with her." "yes; but she has violet and the children; and mamma is not one to fret or be unhappy." "she will not be unhappy; but all the same it will be a sorrowful thing for her to go there now." "yes; but i am glad she is there; and i hope i may be there, too, before the summer is over." jem's examinations passed off with great credit to himself; but he did not have the pleasure of telling his triumph, or showing his prizes to his mother and the children till after their return to singleton; for jem did not go to gourlay, but in quite another direction. when an offer was made to him, through one of his friends at the great engine-house, to accompany a skillful machinist to a distant part of the country where he was to superintend the setting up of some valuable machinery in a manufacturing establishment, he gave a few regretful thoughts to his mother and gourlay, and the long anticipated delights of boating and fishing; but it did not take him long to decide to go. indeed, by the time his mother's consent reached him, his preparations were far advanced, and he was as eager to be gone as though the sole object of the trip had been pleasure, and not the hard work which had been offered him. but, besides the work, there was the wages, which, to jem seemed magnificent, and there was the prospect of seeing new sights far from home; so he went away in great spirits, and david was left alone. he was not in great spirits. jem had left him no earlier than he must have done had it been to join his mother and the children in gourlay. but, somehow, when he thought of his brother out in the wonderful, strange world, about which they had so often spoken and dreamed, david had to struggle against a feeling which, indulged, might very easily have changed to discontent or envy of his brother's happier fortune. happier fortune, indeed! how foolish his thoughts were! david laughed at himself when he called up the figure of jem, with bared arms and blackened face, busy amidst the smoke and dust of some great work-shop, going here and there--doing this and that at the bidding of his master. a very hard working world jem would no doubt find it; and, as he thought about him, david made believe content, and congratulated himself on the quiet and leisure which the summer evenings were bringing, and made plans for doing great things in the way of reading and study while they lasted. but they were very dull days and evenings. the silence in the house grew more oppressive to him than even jem had found it. the long summer evenings often found him listless and dull over the books that had been so precious to him when he had only stolen moments to bestow on them. there had been something said at first about his going to the oswald's to stay, when the time came when he should be alone in the house. mr philip had proposed it at the time when they were making arrangements for the going away of his little sisters. but the invitation had not been repeated. mr philip had gone away long before jem. he had, at the last moment, joined an exploring party who were going--not, indeed, to red river, but far away into the woods. mr oswald had forgotten the invitation, or had never known of it, perhaps, and david went home to the deserted house not very willingly sometimes, and, with a vague impatience of the monotony of the days, wished for something to happen to break it. before jem had been gone a week, something did happen. indeed, it had happened a good while before, but it only came to david's knowledge at that time. mr caldwell had just returned from one of his frequent business journeys, and one night david lingered beyond the usual hour that he might see him and walk down the street with him as far as their way lay in the same direction; and it was while they were going towards home together that mr caldwell told him of something very unpleasant that had occurred in the office. a small sum of money had been missed, and the circumstances connected with its loss led mr caldwell to believe that it had been taken by some one belonging to the office. mr caldwell could not give his reasons for this opinion, nor did he say much about it, but he questioned david closely about those who had been coming and going, and seemed troubled and annoyed about the affair. david was troubled, too, and tried to recall anything that might throw light upon the painful matter. but he did not succeed. the circumstances, as david learned them then and afterwards, were these: mr oswald, as treasurer for one of the benevolent societies of the town, had, on a certain day of the preceding month, received a sum of money, part of which could not be found or accounted for. the rest of the sum paid into his hands was found in that compartment of his private safe allotted to the papers of the society. a receipt for the whole sum was in the hands of the person who had paid the money, and an entry in the society's books corresponded to the sum named in this receipt. mr oswald was certain that he had not made use of any part of it, because such was never his custom. the accounts of the society were kept quite distinct from all others, and all arrangements with regard to them were made by mr oswald himself. it did not make the loss a matter of less importance that the sum missed was small. nor did it make mr oswald and mr caldwell less anxious to discover what had become of it. the loss had not been discovered until some time after it had taken place, when the quarterly making up of the society's accounts had been taken in hand, and mr oswald could not remember much about the circumstances. the date of the receipt showed the time. the person who paid the money remembered that part of it had been in small silver coins, made up in packets, and this was the part that had disappeared. all this was not told by mr caldwell that first afternoon. it came to david's knowledge, little by little, as it was found out. the matter was not, at first, discussed by the clerks in the office. mr caldwell had asked david not to speak of it to them, or to any one. when mr caldwell told him that nothing had been said to them of the loss, he thought it was strange; but it never came into his mind that the reason was that mr oswald feared that he was the person guilty, and wished to keep it from the knowledge of the rest. but, as time went on, he began to notice a change in mr oswald's manner toward him. he had never said many words to him in the course of the day. it was not his way with those in his employment, except with mr caldwell. he said less than ever to him now, but david fancied that he was more watchful of him, that he took more note of his comings and goings, and that his manner was more peremptory and less friendly when he gave him directions as to his work for the day. mr caldwell did not remain long in singleton at this time, and having no one to speak to about the mysterious affair of the missing money, david, after a day or two, began to think less about it than he might otherwise have done. once he ventured to speak to mr oswald about it. "have you heard anything about the lost money, sir?" said he, one night, when there were only they two in the office. mr oswald answered him so briefly and sharply that david was startled, changing colour and looking at him in astonishment. "no, i have not. have _you_ anything to tell me about it? the sooner the better," said mr oswald. "i know only what mr caldwell has told me," said david. "you may go," said mr oswald. and david went away, very much surprised both at his words and his manner. he did not think long about it, but every day he became more certain that all was not right between them. he had no one to speak to, which made it worse. he could not write to his mother or even to violet, because there was nothing to tell. mr oswald was sharp and short in his manner of speaking to him, that was all, and he had never said much to him at any time. no; there was nothing to tell. but he could not help being unhappy. the time seemed very long. the weather became very warm. all that he had to do out of the office was done languidly, and he began to wish for the time of his mother's return. he received little pleasure from his books, but he faithfully gave the allotted time to them, and got, it is to be hoped, some profit. he made himself busy in the garden, too, and gave little dick lacy his accustomed lesson in writing and book-keeping as regularly as usual. but, through all his work and all his amusements, he carried with him a sense of discomfort. he never could forget that all was not right between him and his master, though he could not guess the reason. he seemed to see him oftener than usual these days. he sometimes overtook him on his way home; and, once or twice, when he was working in the garden, he saw him cross the bridge and pass the house. once he came at night to the house about some business, which, he said, had been forgotten. david was mortified and vexed, because he had not heard him knock, and because, when he entered, he found him lying asleep with his head on his greek dictionary, and he answered the questions put to him stupidly enough; but he saw that business was only a pretence. next day, kind, but foolish mrs lacy told him that mr oswald had been at her house asking all manner of questions about him; what he did, and where he went, and how he passed his time; and though david was surprised, and not very well pleased to hear it, it was not because he thought mr oswald had begun to doubt him. indeed, it came into his mind, that, perhaps, he was going to be asked at last to pass a few days at the big house with frank, who had returned home not at all well. he was, for a moment, quite certain of this, when he carried in the letters in the morning, for mr oswald's manner was much kinder, and he spoke to him just as he used to do. but he did not ask him, and frank did not come down to see him at the bank, as david hoped he might. that night, mr caldwell returned to singleton. he did not arrive till after the bank was closed, but he came down to see david before he went home. the first words he spoke to him were concerning the lost money; and, how it came about, david could never very well remember. whether the accusation was made in words, or whether he caught the idea of suspicion in his friend's hesitating words and anxious looks, he did not know, nor did he know in what words he answered him. it was as if some one had struck him a heavy blow, and then he heard mr caldwell's voice, saying: "have patience, david. you are not the first one that has been falsely accused. anger never helped any one through trouble yet. what would your mother say?" his mother! david uttered a cry in which there was both anger and pain. was his mother to hear her son accused as a thief? "david," said his friend solemnly, "it is at a time like this that our trust in god stands us in stead. there is nothing to be dismayed at, if you are innocent." "if!" said david, with a gasp. "ay! `if!' your mother herself might say as much as that. and you have not said that the charge is a false one yet." "i did not think i should need to say so to you!" "but you see, my lad, i am not speaking for myself. i was bidden ask you the question point blank, and i must give your answer to him that sent me. my word is another matter. you must answer to him." "to mr oswald, i suppose? why should he suspect me? has he been suspecting me all these weeks? was that the reason he wished nothing said about it in the office?" "that was kindly meant, at any rate; and you needna' let your eyes flash on me," said mr caldwell, severely. "don't you think it has caused him much unhappiness to be obliged to suspect you?" "but why should he suspect _me_?" "there seemed to be no one else. but he must speak for himself. i have nothing to say for him. i have only to carry him your answer." "i will answer him myself," said david, rising, as though he were going at once to do it. but he only walked to the window and stood looking out. "david," said mr caldwell, "put away your books, and come home with me." "no, i cannot do that," said david, shortly. he did not turn round to answer, and there was not another word spoken for a while. by and by mr caldwell rose, and said, in his slow way: "david, my lad, the only thing that you have to do in this matter is to see that you bear it well. the accusation will give but small concern to your mother, in comparison with the knowledge that her son has been indulging in an angry and unchristian spirit." and then he went away. he did not go very far, however. it was getting late, and, in the gathering darkness, and the unaccustomed silence of the place, the house seemed very dreary and forsaken to him, and he turned back before he reached the gate. "david," said he kindly, opening the door, "come away home with me." but david only answered as he had done before. "no, i cannot do that." he said it in a gentler tone, however, and added: "no, i thank you, mr caldwell, i would rather not." "it will be dreary work staying here with your sore and angry heart. you need not be alone, however. you don't need me to tell you where you are to take all this trouble to. you may honour _him_ by bearing it well," said his friend. "bear it well!" no, he did not do that; at least, he did not at first. when mr caldwell had gone, and david had shut the doors and windows to keep out the rain that was beginning to fall, the tears, which he had kept back with difficulty when his friend was there, gushed out in a flood. and they were not the kind of tears that relieve and refresh. there was anger in them, and a sense of shame made them hot and bitter as they fell. he had wild thoughts of going that very night to mr oswald to answer his terrible question, and to tell him that he would never enter his office again; for, even to be questioned and suspected, seemed, to him, to bring dishonour, and his sense of justice made him eager to defend himself at whatever cost. but night brought wiser counsels; and david knew, as mr caldwell had said, where to betake himself with his trouble; and the morning found him in quite another mind. as for mr caldwell, he did not wait till morning to carry his answer to mr oswald. he did not even go home first to his own house, though he had not been there for a fortnight. "for who knows," said he to himself, "what that foolish lad may go and say in his anger, and mr oswald must hear what i have to say first, or it may end badly for all concerned." he found mr oswald sitting in the dining-room alone, and, after a few words concerning the business which had called him away during the last few weeks, he told him of his visit to david, and spoke with decision as to the impossibility of the lad's having any knowledge of the lost money. "it seems impossible, certainly," said mr oswald; "and yet how can its disappearance be accounted for? it must have been taken from the table or from the safe on the very day it was brought to me, or i must have seen it at night. there can be no doubt it was brought to me on that day, and there can be no doubt it was after all the others, except young inglis and yourself were gone. i was out, i remember, when it was time to go home. when i came in, there was no one in the outer office. you had sent david out, you said. he came in before i left--" and he went over the whole affair again, saying it was not the loss of the money that vexed him. though the loss had been ten times as great, it would have been nothing in comparison with the vexation caused by the loss of confidence in those whom he employed. "for some one must have taken the money, even if david inglis be not guilty." here they were both startled by a voice from the other end of the room. "david inglis, papa! what can you mean?" and frank came hurriedly forward, stumbling against the furniture as he shaded his eyes from the light. "my boy! are you here? what would the doctor say? you should have been in bed long ago." "but, papa, what is it that is lost? you never could blame davie, papa. you could not think davie could take money, mr caldwell?" "no, i know david inglis better," said mr caldwell, quietly. "and, papa, you don't think ill of davie? you would not if you knew him. papa! you have not accused him? oh! what will aunt mary think?" cried the boy in great distress. "papa, how could you do it?" mr oswald was asking himself the same question. the only thing he could say was that there was no one else, which seemed a foolish thing to say in the face of such perfect confidence as these two had in david. but he could not go over the whole matter again, and so he told frank it was something in which he was not at all to meddle, and in his discomfort and annoyance he spoke sharply to the boy, and sent him away. "but i shall go to davie the first thing in the morning, papa. i would not believe such a thing of davie, though a hundred men declared it. i would sooner believe it of--of mr caldwell," said frank, excitedly. "be quiet, frank," said his father; but mr caldwell laughed a little and patted the boy on the shoulder as he passed, and then he, too, said good-night and went away. and mr oswald was not left in a very pleasant frame of mind, that is certain. true to his determination to see david, frank reached the bank next morning before his father. he reached it before david, too, and he would have gone on to meet him, had it not been that the bright sunshine which had followed the rain had dazzled his poor eyes and made him dizzy, and he was glad to cover his face and to lie down on the sofa in his father's office for a while. he lay still after his father came in, and only moved when he heard david's voice saying-- "mr caldwell told me you wished to see me, sir." then frank started up and came feeling his way towards his friend. "he does not mean it, davie!" he cried. "papa knows you never could have done such a thing. don't be angry, old fellow." and then he put out his hand to clasp david's, and missed it partly because of their natural dimness and partly because of the tears that rushed to them. david regarded him in dismay. "are they so bad as that, frank? are they worse again?" said david, forgetting his own trouble in the heavier trouble of his friend. they were bad enough, and there was more wrong with the boy besides his eyes. he was ill and weak, and he burst out crying, with his head on david's shoulder, but his tears were not for himself. "you were wrong to come out to-day, frank," said his father, surprised and perplexed at his sudden break-down; "you must go home immediately." "papa, tell davie that you do not believe he took the money," cried the boy. "he _could_ not do it, papa." "indeed, i did not, sir," said david. "i know nothing about the matter except what mr caldwell has told me. you may believe me, sir." "i do not know what to believe," said mr oswald. "it seems unlikely that you should be tempted to do so foolish and wrong a thing. but i have been deceived many a time. who could have taken it?" "it was not i," said david, quietly, and while he said it he was conscious of a feeling of thankfulness that he had not seen mr oswald in the first angry moment after he had known of his suspicion. an angry denial, he felt now, would have availed little. "papa, begin at the beginning and tell davie all about it. perhaps he will think of something you have forgotten--something that may help you to find out where the money has gone," said frank, earnestly. but mr oswald would do nothing of the sort. he was tired and perplexed with the matter, and he had come to the determination to pay the lost money, and wait till time should throw light on the circumstances of its loss, or until the guilty person should betray himself. "you must go, frank. you are not fit to be here," said he. "i want to hear you tell davie that you don't believe he is a thief." a thief! that is a very ugly word, and david winced as it was spoken. mr oswald winced too. "money has been taken from this room, and until the manner of its disappearance be discovered, all who had access to the place must, in a sense, be open to suspicion. let us hope that the guilty person will be found out, and in the meantime, let nothing more be said about it." "but why did you not tell me at once that you suspected me?" said david, in some excitement. "it was not a pleasant thing to tell." "no, but it is not pleasanter to hear it now. there is less chance that the guilty person may be traced now, than if the loss had been declared at once. and must i lie under the suspicion always? i do not think you have been just to me." "that will do. the less said the better," said mr oswald. "frank, you must go home." "you will not go away, davie?" said frank. "not if i may stay. where could i go?" said david. "you will stay, of course. let us hope the truth about this unpleasant business may come out at last. we must all be uncomfortable until it does." "if you had only spoken to david about it sooner," said frank, again. but mr oswald would neither say nor hear more. entreated by frank, however, he asked david to go and stay at his house, till his mother returned home. but david refused to go even for a day, and no entreaties of frank could move him. "i don't wonder that you will not come," said frank. "i don't blame you for refusing. and oh! what will aunt mary think of us all?" "she will know that _you_ are all right, frank," said david, trying to look cheerful as he bade his friend good-bye at the door. he did not succeed very well, nor did frank; and david, thinking of it afterwards, was by no means sure that he had been right in refusing to go to stay with him for a while, and thinking of his friend's troubles did him some good, in that it gave him less time to think of his own. but he could not make up his mind to go to mr oswald's house, and he did not see frank again for a good while after that. chapter thirteen. david had rather a hard time for the next few days. a great trouble had fallen on him. he could have borne anything else better he sometimes thought. his good name was in danger, for even a false accusation must leave a stain on it, he thought. every day that passed made it less likely that the mysterious matter of the lost money could be cleared up, and until this happened, mr oswald would never perfectly trust him again; and david said to himself, sometimes sadly and sometimes angrily, that he could not stay where he was not trusted. nor was it likely that mr oswald would wish him to stay. they might have to leave the bridge house and singleton, and where could they go? of course a constant indulgence in such thoughts and fears was very foolish on david's part, and almost always he knew it to be foolish. he knew that all this trouble had not fallen on him by chance, and that out of it some good must come. he said to himself that he had been growing proud of his good name, of being his mother's right hand, and of having the confidence of mr oswald, and perhaps this had been permitted to happen to him to remind him that he must be watchful and humble, and that he could do nothing good of himself. gradually david came to see how right mr caldwell had been when he said that it was a very great matter how he bore his trial, and he grew ashamed of his anger and impatience and distrust. just as if the lord who loved him, and whom he loved, were not caring for him all this time! just as though this were a matter that could not be committed to his care--trusted altogether to him! yes, he acknowledged himself very foolish and wrong. a great many times every day he asked that his good name might be cleared from the stain that seemed to rest on it; but as often he asked, that whether it was to be so or not, he might have grace and strength given to bear his trouble well. he did bear it pretty well, mr caldwell thought, and he watched him closely through these days. mr oswald thought so, top, and wondered a little. he could not really believe david inglis to be guilty of theft, but it seemed strange to him that he should be so cheerful and patient under a false accusation. the only way in which he showed that he resented his suspicion, was by being firm in continuing to refuse the invitation to his house, which he again renewed. frank told his father that he did not wonder at the refusal; he tried all the same to shake david's resolution, but he did not succeed. david did not think he bore his trial well. in his heart, he was angry and desponding often. and, oh! how he wanted his mother! it would not have been half so bad if she had been at home, he thought, and yet he could not bring himself to write to her about it. when it should be made clear where the lost money had gone--so clear that even mr oswald would not have a doubtful thought, then he would tell his mother, and get the sympathy which would be so ready and so sweet. it would spoil her happy summer to know that he was in trouble, he thought, and, besides, he could not bear that she should know that any one had dared to speak of him as dishonest. this was foolish, too, but he could not tell her till afterwards. his mother was not quite at ease about him. she knew he was in trouble. she had gathered that from the changed tone of his weekly letter, and an inadvertent word, now and then, led her to believe that there was something more the matter than the loneliness to which he confessed after jem went away. so, when an opportunity occurred for violet to go to singleton for a day or two, she was very glad that she should go, to see how davie was getting on, and to give him an account of their manner of life in gourlay. and when david came home one night, to find violet making tea instead of mrs lacy, was he not glad to see her! he was more glad to see her than he would have been to see his mother. he knew he never could have talked half an hour with his mother without telling her all that was in his heart, and he could keep it from violet. at least, so he said to himself. but when tea was over, and violet had told him all they were doing at gourlay, and all they were enjoying there, she began to ask him questions in return, and, before he knew it, he was telling all the sad story of the last few weeks, and was looking with wonder at his sister's astonished and indignant face. for astonishment was violet's first feeling--astonishment that such a thing could have happened to davie, and for a little, it was stronger even than her indignation. "and haven't you the least idea what may have become of the money, davie? don't you have any suspicion of any one?" asked she, after she had said a good many angry words that need not be repeated. "have they not been trying to discover something?" "they have been trying, i suppose." "and what do _you_ think, davie? there must be some clue, surely." but david was silent. "you do suspect some one?" said violet, eagerly. "no," said he, slowly; "i have no sufficient reason for suspecting any one." "tell _me_, davie." "no; i have no right to tell my suspicions, or to suspect any one. it came into my head one night; but i know it is foolish and wrong, and i have nothing to tell." "when did it happen?" asked violet, after a little. david could not tell her the exact time. he had never been told the date of the receipt which mr oswald had given; but he thought it could not have been very long after his mother went away, though he had not heard of the loss till after jem had gone. violet went here and there putting things to rights in the room, and said nothing for a good while. by and by she came and leaned over the chair in which david was sitting, and asked: "david, when did philip oswald go away?" david turned round and looked at her uneasily. "a good while ago. soon after you all went away to gourlay. no, violet--don't say it," said he, eagerly, as he met her look. "he could not do it. why should he? he has all the money he wants. and, besides, he _could_ not do such a thing." "david," said violet, gravely, "was it philip that you were thinking about?" "don't, violet! it came into my mind--i couldn't help that, but it is wrong to speak of it. it could not have been he." "i don't know. it does not seem possible. he is foolish and frivolous--and not to be relied on; but i do not think he would do such a thing as--take money--unless--" "violet! don't speak of it. a false accusation is a terrible thing." "i am not accusing him. there does not seem to be a sufficient motive for such an act. the sum was so small--and then--" "dear violet!" said david, in great distress, "don't speak of it any more." "well, i will not--but mr oswald accused you. you are a great deal better than i am, davie," said his sister, softly. david laughed an uncertain laugh. "that is all you know about it," said he. when violet went up next day to speak to miss oswald about the little girls, the first word that frank said to her was: "has davie told you? oh! violet, what will aunt mary think of papa?" but violet could not trust herself to speak of davie's trouble to him. she was too angry with his father; and, besides, she was too startled by frank's pale looks to be able to think, for the moment, of any one but him. "are you ill, frank? are your eyes worse? what have you been doing to them?" for frank had dropped his head down on his hands again. "yes, they are worse. i was out in the rain, and caught cold. i was not strong enough to go, i suppose. phil, sent me back with some people who were coming down. he would have come himself, but, of course, i couldn't let him." "you would have done better to come to gourlay with us," said violet. "yes, even without jem or davie. i wish i had gone." "come with me to-morrow," said violet, earnestly. "mamma will be very glad to see you." but frank shook his head sadly. "i cannot, violet. i should be ashamed to look aunt mary in the face-- after--" "you need not, frank. mamma will know. and you don't suppose that anything they say can really hurt our davie?" "no; not in the end. but--there's no use in talking." "i am not afraid!" said violet. "and mamma will not fret about it; i am sure of that?" there was nothing more said for some time, and then violet asked: "where is your brother now?" "he must be far across the country by this time. he was enjoying the trip very much when i left him." "and when will he be home?" "i don't know. not for a good while yet. why are you asking?" frank raised himself up, and peered with his dim eyes into violet's face. "why are you asking?" he repeated. but violet did not answer him. as she looked at his poor, pale face, the tears started in her eyes. "frank, dear boy, you must come home with me. you want mamma again. she will do you more good than the doctor." "violet, tell me one thing! does davie blame phil--about the missing money, i mean. tell me!" "davie blame your brother! why should you say so? davie would be shocked at such a question from you. what reason could he have to blame philip?" but violet was very glad that he did not pursue the subject, for she was afraid to let him know all her thoughts about davie's trouble. she did not give him an opportunity to return to the subject. she wished very much for frank's sake that he should return to gourlay with her, and she hastened to propose the plan to his aunt. miss oswald was, by no means, disposed to hinder him, though she doubted if his father would let him go. she was not very much accustomed to the society of young people, and she had been at a loss what to do with the boy, who, though not very ill, was disinclined, and, indeed, unable to amuse himself, or to enter into any of the plans which were made for his pleasure, so she promised to speak to his father, and to have his things ready should he be permitted to go. violet took care to avoid being alone with frank while she stayed in the house, and nothing more was said about philip. it was all arranged as violet desired it might be. mr oswald made no serious objections to his son's going to gourlay. frank himself objected, but the prospect of going with violet was too pleasant to make his refusal very firm, and the thought of the loneliness of his own home decided him to go. "violet," said david, when the time came to say good-bye, "you must not tell mamma about all this vexation. it would only make her unhappy, and do no good." but violet would not promise. "i cannot, davie. i cannot keep anything from mamma when she wishes to know it; and she will be sure to ask everything about you. but you need not be afraid. mamma will not fret. she will know that it will all be right in the end." and the "end" of david's trouble, as far as the missing money was concerned, was nearer than either of them thought when they bade each other good-bye. he had a few days more of anxiety and discomfort, in the midst of which came a letter from his mother, which made it seem to him a very small trouble indeed. he read it over and over again, and laughed at himself for supposing that he was acting wisely in keeping the knowledge of all that was making him so unhappy from his mother. "mamma always knows just what to say and how to say it," said he to himself; "and, of course, she is not going to fret about a matter which is sure to come right in the end." and so the days that followed were better days, though the hot weather, and the close confinement in the office through the day, and the loneliness of the deserted house at home, were beginning to tell on him, and he was by no means well. he did his best to do well all that was given him to do, but the days were long and dull and the evenings lonely, and he began to count the days that must pass before they should all come home. there was something going on in the town one afternoon, a cricket match or a match at football, and all the clerks had left the bank at the earliest possible moment, intent on seeing all that was to be seen of it. david would have gone with, the rest, but mr caldwell, who was at the moment engaged with mr oswald in his private room, had asked him to remain till he came out to him again. david waited, not caring that he lost the amusement that the others sought, not caring very much for anything just at that moment, for he was tired and getting a little unhappy again, and very much ashamed of himself because of it. for when he had read his mother's letter only the other day, he had taken all the comfort of her cheerful, trustful words, and acknowledged how foolish and wrong it had been for him to let mr oswald's doubts and suspicions dismay him. he had said then that it was all past now, and that he could wait god's time for the clearing of his name, without being unhappy or afraid again. and now here he was wondering anxiously whether mr oswald and mr caldwell were speaking about the lost money, and whether any thing more was known that he had not heard. he was tired waiting, and wanted to go home, and yet the thought of the empty house and the long dull evening was not pleasant, and he was saying to himself that it did not matter whether he stayed or went, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a familiar voice said-- "well, davie, my boy, have you been standing here ever since i went away?" david turned and saw philip oswald. in his surprise, and because of the many thoughts that came upon him at the sight of him, he did not utter a word. he forgot to take the hand which philip held out to him. "have you, davie? i declare you look as if you had not seen the light of the sun for a month! what is the matter with you, davie?" he might well ask it, for david had grown very pale, and his heart was beating fast. in spite of his judgment, he had, since his talk with violet, associated philip with the thought of the lost money, and now as he looked at his frank, handsome face, he said how impossible it was that he should have taken it, or that he should know anything about it. no, philip oswald could not help him out of his trouble. "when did you come, philip?" said he. "i should scarcely have known you, if you hadn't spoken." philip had changed more than seemed possible in two months' time. he was brown with the sun and much more manly-looking. he even seemed to david to have grown taller in these two months. "i have improved, haven't i? i can't say as much for you. what is the trouble, davie?" philip laid his hand on his shoulder again, and brought his laughing brown face close to david's. but david drew himself away. he hated himself for the feeling of anger and envy that rose in his heart as he looked at philip. why should life be so easy to him? why should the summer have passed so differently to them? at the moment he was very miserable, tired of his trouble and of his laborious life, faithless and afraid. so he withdrew from the young man's touch, and turned away saying nothing. "is it as bad as that? can't i help you? frank seemed to think i might, though i could not make out from his letter what was the trouble or how i could help you out of it. is it about money, davie? have you got into a scrape at last?" "a scrape!" repeated david. "no you cannot help me, i am afraid. i should be sorry to trouble you." "trouble! nonsense! i have come a fortnight sooner than i wanted to come, because of frank's letter. he seemed to think i could put you through. what has my father to do with it? halloo! here is old caldwell. must it be kept dark, davie?" david made him no answer. unconsciously he had been looking forward to the time of philip's coming home, with hope that in some way or other light might be thrown on the matter that had darkened all the summer to him, but philip evidently knew nothing of it, and all must be as before. if he could have got away without being questioned, he would have gone, for he was by no means sure that he might not disgrace himself by breaking into angry words, or even into tears. he certainly must have done one or other if he had tried to speak, but he did not need to answer. "so you have come home!" said mr caldwell, as he came forward. "you have not been in haste." "i beg your pardon. i _have_ been in haste. i did not intend to come home for ten days yet, if i had been allowed to have my own way about it." "and what hindered you? matters of importance, doubtless." "you may be sure of that. has my father gone home? i will just see him a minute, and then i'll go home with you, davie," said philip, turning towards his father's door. "david has important business with me," added he, looking over his shoulder with his hand on the door-handle. david shook his head. "your father will tell you all about it," said he, hoarsely. philip whistled and came back again. "that is the way, is it?" "or i will tell you," said mr caldwell, gravely. "young man, what did your brother frank say to you in the letter he wrote to you a while ago?" philip looked at him in surprise. "what is that to you, sir? he said--i don't very well know what he said. it was a mysterious epistle altogether, and so blurred and blotted that i could hardly read it. but i made out that davie was in trouble, and that i was expected home to bring him through." searching through his many pockets, he at last found his brother's letter and held it out to david. "perhaps you can make it out," said he. blurred and blotted it was, and the lines were crooked, and in some places they ran into each other, and david did not wonder that philip could not read it very well. he saw his own name in it and violet's, and he knew of course that what frank had to say was about the lost money, but he could see also that the story was only hinted at, and the letter was altogether so vague and indefinite, that it might well seem mysterious to philip. "can you make it out?" philip asked. "i know what he means, though perhaps i should not have found it out from this. your father will tell you, or mr caldwell." "all right! fire away, and the sooner the better, for i am tired. if i can help you out of the scrape, i will." "that is to be seen yet," said mr caldwell. then he told the story of the lost money, using as few words as possible, as was his way. he only told the facts of the case, how the money had been brought to mr oswald and its receipt acknowledged by him, and how a part of it had never been found or accounted for, and how mr oswald had first suspected, and then openly accused david inglis of having taken it. he did not express any opinion as to whether mr oswald was right or wrong, nor offer any suggestion as to what might have become of the missing money, and one might not have thought from his way of telling it, that he was particularly interested in the matter. but he never removed his eyes from mr philip's face, and his last words were-- "and it seems your brother thought you might have some knowledge of the matter. is that what he says in his letter?" philip's face was well worth looking at as the story went on. at first he whistled and looked amused, but his amusement changed to surprise, and then to consternation, as mr caldwell proceeded. when he ceased speaking he exclaimed without heeding his question-- "what could my father mean? to blame davie, of all people!" "there was no one else, he thought," said david. "no one else!" repeated philip. "nonsense! there was mr caldwell and all the rest of them in the office, and there was _me_. i took the money." "if you had acknowledged it a little sooner, it would have been a wiser thing for yourself, and it would have saved your father much vexation, and a deal of unhappiness to david inglis and the rest of them," said mr caldwell, severely. "you had best tell your father about it now," added he, as mr oswald came out of his room. "acknowledge it! of course, i acknowledge it. papa, did you not get the note i left on your table for you the day i went away?" "the note!" repeated his father. "i got no note from you." "david, my man," whispered mr caldwell, "do you mind the word that says, `he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday?' the lord doesna forget." the story as they gathered it from philip's explanations and exclamations was this: he had come to the office to see his father directly from the train that had brought him home from c--. he had not found him in, but he had written a note to explain that through some change of plan the company of explorers were to set out immediately, and that he must return to c-- without a moment's delay, in order that all arrangements might be completed by the time that the boat sailed. he was almost sure he had acknowledged taking the small rolls of silver that were on the table; he was quite sure that he had left the full value in paper money in exchange. there could be no mistake about it, and he had never doubted but his father had received it. "and, papa! the absurdity of suspecting davie," said philip, not very respectfully, when his story was done. "and now the matter lies between him and you," said his father. "for the money is not forthcoming. you may have neglected to leave it after all." but philip was certain as to that point. he had enclosed it with his note and closed the envelope, leaving it on an open ledger that was lying on the table. there could be no mistake about that. "and we are just where we were before," said mr caldwell. "but don't be cast down, david. there must be a way out of this." "but nothing astonishes me so much as that my father should have doubted davie. that was too absurd, you know. if i had been you, davie, i would have cut the whole concern," said philip. "there would have been much wisdom in that," said mr caldwell dryly. "there is no fear of david inglis." david said nothing. he stood folding and unfolding the letter that philip had given him, struck dumb by the thought that nothing had really been discovered of the missing money, and that the suspicion of mr oswald might still rest on him "i wonder you did not think of me, father," went on philip. "frank did, i dare say, though i could not make out what he meant. but the money must be somewhere. let us have a look." he went into his father's room, and the others followed. philip looked about as though he expected everything might be as he left it two months ago. there were loose papers on the table, and some letters and account-books. the morning paper was there, and mr oswald's hat and cane, and that was all. "the big book lay just here," said philip. "i laid my note on it, so that it need not be overlooked." "there are more big books in the office than one," said mr caldwell, crossing the room to a large safe, of which the doors were still standing open. one by one he lifted the large account-books that were not often disturbed, and turned over the leaves slowly, to see whether any paper might have been shut in them. as soon as philip understood what he was doing, he gave himself to the same work with a great deal more energy and interest than mr caldwell displayed. but it was mr caldwell who came upon that for which they were looking--philip's note to his father--safe between the pages of a great ledger, which looked as though it might not have been opened for years. "i mind well; i was referring back to moses cramp's account of past years on the very day that brought us all our trouble. and now, david inglis, your trial is over for this time," and he handed the note to mr oswald. "provided mr philip has made no mistake," added he, cautiously, as the note was opened. the interest with which david looked on may be imagined. it took mr oswald a good while to read the note; at least, it was a good while before he laid it down, and mr caldwell, claiming mr philip's help, set about putting the big books in their places again. david never thought of offering to help. "it has been a very unfortunate mistake," said mr oswald, at last. "all's well that ends well," said his son lightly. "i am very sorry that you should have been made unhappy about it, david. i might have known that _you_ were not to blame, but there seemed to be no one else. i beg your pardon sincerely," said mr oswald. "i am very glad it is all right, sir," said david, quietly. "i should like to know one thing," said philip. "how came frank to write to me? he must have thought i was the thief--the young rascal. did you think so, davie?" "no," said david, "i never thought you took it. i don't know what frank thought. i never spoke to him about it, nor to any one," added david, after a moment's hesitation. "well! never mind. i'll sift that matter by and by. come up to the house with me, davie. i am very sorry for all the pain you have had about this business. come home with me to-night." "no; i am going home by myself. i have a headache. you were not to blame." "yes, he was to blame," said mr oswald. "it was a very unbusiness-like way of doing things, and it might have ended badly for all concerned." "it has been bad enough all through for david inglis. mr philip, if you wish to make amends to him, you should offer to take his place and let him go to the country to amuse himself with the rest for a few days." philip opened his eyes. "i am afraid i could not fill david's place in the office," said he. "i am afraid of that, too. but you would be better than nobody, and we would have patience with you. and david must go for awhile, whether you take his place or no." "yes," assented mr oswald, rather absently. "he might as well have a holiday now as any time. and, philip, i expect you to take your own place in the office after this regularly." philip shrugged his shoulders, when his father was not looking to see. "i'll give it a trial," said he. "and can i go to-morrow, mr caldwell?" said david. "i have no preparations to make, and i should like to take them by surprise." "by all means. i should like to go with you and see it," said philip. "but, i suppose, that would hardly do--just at present." david bade them good-night, and went down the street with mr caldwell. "i am much obliged to you, sir. i am very glad to get away from the office for awhile, to say nothing of going to gourlay and seeing them all." david's eyes sparkled at the thought. "well! you have borne your trouble not so ill," said mr caldwell; "and you may tell your mother i said so." david laughed; but he looked grave in a moment. "i don't think you would say i bore it well, if you knew all the angry thoughts i had. but i am very glad and thankful now, and i am sure mamma will thank you for all your kindness. i know now you never thought me capable of doing so wrong a thing." "we are all poor creatures, david, my man. there is no saying what we mightna' do if we were left to ourselves. be thankful and humble, and pray for grace to keep in the right way; and mind that yon young man's eyes are upon you, and that you are, in a measure, responsible for his well-doing or his ill-doing, for awhile, at least; and may the lord guide you," said mr caldwell, solemnly, and then he went away. david stood gazing after him with astonished eyes. "i responsible for him! that can hardly be. i am nothing to him. i wonder what mamma would say? i shall have nothing to do with him for awhile, at least. i like frank much the best. oh! isn't it good to be going home!" david had one thing to do with philip oswald before he went away. he came to the station with a parcel which he wished him to take to his little sisters, and to see him off. he was merry and good-humoured, though he pretended to be dreadfully afraid of not being able to fill david's place in the office to the satisfaction of mr caldwell. "if aunt mary will ask me, i will come to gourlay and spend some sunday with you," said he. "i have a settlement to make with master frank. i did not think that he and violet would have called me a dishonest person, even to clear you. i am very angry with them both." he did not look very angry, for he said it with laughing lips. but david was shocked. "violet never thought that of you. she only said that--that--" "well! what did she say?" demanded philip. "she said it was quite impossible," went on david. "she said there was no motive--i mean--she said you were foolish, and frivolous, and thought first of your own pleasure--but--" there was not time for another word, if david would not lose the train. he was indignant with himself. why could he not have kept silence for two minutes longer? and yet, as he caught a glimpse of philip's astonished face as the train swept past him on the platform, he could not help laughing a little, and hoping that the truth might do him good. for it was true, and philip did not hear unpleasant truths too often for his welfare. "at any rate, i am not going to vex myself about it now," said david. and he was quite right. chapter fourteen. and were they not glad to see david in gourlay? almost always something happens to mar, a little, the pleasure of a surprise that has been planned beforehand; but nothing happened to mar david's. he travelled to gourlay in a late train; and as he went up the familiar road, and saw the lights gleaming through the trees, as he had seen them so often in the old days, a great many thoughts crowded upon him, and, if the truth must be told, there were tears in his eyes and on his cheeks, too, when he opened the door and went in among them. they were all there. even little polly, by some happy chance, was up at the unusual hour. was there ever music so sweet, as the glad cry that greeted him? there were tears on more cheeks than david's; but his mother did not ask if his trouble was over; she knew by his face,-- though it was wet,--that he was at peace with himself, and troubles from without, do not hurt much, when the heart's peace is undisturbed. the words that rose to violet's lips were kept back, as she looked from her mother's face to david's. but frank could see nobody's face, and his own was very pale and anxious, as he listened to the happy tumult of voices around him. "has philip come home?" asked he, after a little. "did he get my letter? is it all right, davie?" david laughed. "oh, yes! it's all right. he got your letter, but i am afraid he couldn't read it very well. it brought him home a fortnight sooner than he meant to come, however." "and is it all right?" asked frank, anxiously. "all right! only i am afraid he will be sorry he came, for he has taken my place in the office for ten days at least, and he will be very sick of it before that time is over. oh, yes! it is all right as right can be. mamma, you were right. i need never have fretted, about it at all. but philip has something to say to you, frank, and to violet," added david, laughing a little at the remembrance of his last glimpse of philip's astonished face. but there was no more said then. of course, the story of david's troubled summer was all told afterwards, to his mother first, and then to frank and violet. it was told to his mother before he slept, when she went to say "good-night" and take his lamp, as she used to do, long ago, in that very room. if david had had to tell the story of mr oswald's suspicions, before philip's return had proved their injustice, he might have grown angry as he went on with it, and indulged in bitter words, as he had sometimes indulged in bitter thoughts. he had no temptation now to do this, and he did not seek to conceal from her how angry he had been at first, and how faithless and unhappy afterwards. he ended by giving mr caldwell's message to her, "that he had borne his trouble not so ill," and his mother agreed with mr caldwell, though she said less than she felt with regard to the whole matter. "you should have written to me, davie," said she. "i wished you were there a thousand times, mamma, but i thought it would only make you unhappy to know about my trouble, since you couldn't help it. and for a long time there was nothing to tell. when i got your letter, after violet came, i was sorry i hadn't told you before." there was a good deal more said before mrs inglis went down-stairs, but not much more about this matter. sitting in the dark, with now and then a quiver in her voice, and tears on her cheeks, the mother told her son how it had been with her since they parted. the coming back to the old home and to her husband's grave had not been altogether sorrowful. indeed, after the very first, it had been more joyful than sorrowful. "the memory of the just is blessed." "they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." how clear this had been made to her during these days! the results of her husband's teaching and influence and example were visible now, as they had not been in former days. that which then had been as the hidden seed, or the shooting germ, had in some lives sprung up to blossom, or bear fruit an hundred fold. she told david of one and another who had spoken to her of his father, blessing his memory, because of what he had done for them and theirs, in the service of his master, and then she said-- "it is the only true and worthy life, davie--a life of work for the master. is it to be yours, my boy?" "yes, mamma. in one way or another, it is to be mine. whether it is to be as papa's was, i cannot tell." "that may come, dear. it is so blessed to feel that our times are in his hands. it would be great happiness to know that my son might give himself to the work of preaching the gospel as his father did. but that must be as god wills. you may be his soldier and servant, whatever may be your calling; but we gave you to his work as soon as he gave you to us, and i pray god you may yet stand in your father's place." "a soldier of christ--to gird on the armour that my father has laid down," said david, softly. "i _do_ wish it, mamma, if only it might be. but it must be a long time first." "who knows? and it does not matter whether the time may be long or sort, if it is god's time. and all your life till it comes may be made a preparation." it was not often that mrs inglis spoke on this subject to her son. she had not done so more than once or twice since his father died. but it was, as she told him, the cherished wish of her heart, and the burden of her prayers for him that he should live and die in the work that had been his father's. the fulfillment of her hope did not seem very near, or possible, but david was young and she could wait, and, in the meantime, it was her pleasure and her duty to encourage him. afterwards, when david looked back on this time, it was of his mother and these quiet talks with her that he always thought. not that these two had much of these pleasant weeks to themselves or many opportunities to indulge in conversation which all could not share. once they went to the north gore together, and oh, how vividly came back to david the many times which during the last year of his father's life he had gone there with him! the memories awakened were sad, but they were sweet, for all the bitterness had gone out of his grief for his father, and he told his mother many things about those drives, and of all his father had said, and of the thoughts and feelings his words had stirred in his heart. and she had some things to tell as well. once they lingered behind the others on their way home from church, and turned aside into the grave-yard for a little while. the moonlight was brightening in the east, and the evening star shone clear in the west, and in the soft uncertain light, the white grave-stones, and the waving trees, and the whole place looked strangely beautiful and peaceful to the boy's eyes. there were not many words spoken. there was no need of many words between these two. in the heart of the widow, as she sat there in the spot dearest to her on earth, because of the precious dust it held, was no forgetfulness of past sorrow, but there was that perfect submission to god's will, which is the highest and most enduring happiness. there was trust for the future, such as left no room for doubt or for discouragement; and so there was peace for the present, which is better than happiness. she did not speak of all this to david, but he knew by many tokens what was passing in her heart, and he shared both the sadness and the gladness of the peaceful hour. there was a great deal of enjoyment of another kind crowded into the time of david's stay in gourlay. there was only one thing to regret, and that was the absence of jem. there were few familiar faces or places that he did not see. sometimes frank went with him, and sometimes violet, and sometimes they all went together, but neither frank nor violet quite filled jem's place to his brother. though david had generally been regarded as much wiser and steadier than his brother, when they lived in gourlay, they had had enough interests and amusements and tastes in common to make david miss him and regret him at every turn. and he missed him and wished for him all the more that he himself was regarded and treated by the people now as a man of business and a person of consideration. of course, he could not object to the respect and deference shown to him in this character, but they were sometimes embarrassing, and sometimes they interfered with his plans for passing his much prized holiday. jem would have made all things right, david thought, and it would have been far more agreeable to follow his leadership in the way of seeking amusement, as he used to do, than to have to sustain his reputation for gravity and steadiness among his elders. still they all enjoyed these weeks thoroughly, though not in the way they would have done in jem's company. miss bethia was paying a visit to a friend in a neighbouring town when david first came to gourlay, which was upon the whole a circumstance not to be regretted, he thought, as they had a few days to themselves just at first. he was very glad to see her, when she came, however, and she was as glad to see him. of course, she manifested her interest in him in the old way, by giving him good advice, and reminding him of his privileges, but to his mother she very decidedly signified her approval of him, and her satisfaction in regard to his walk and conversation generally, and spoke of his future profession--of his entering upon his father's work, as if it were a settled matter accepted by them all. but david was shy of responding to her expressions of interest on this subject. it was one thing to speak to his mother of his hopes, and quite another to listen to miss bethia's plans and suggestions, especially as she did not confine the discussion to themselves, but claimed the sympathy and congratulations of friends and neighbours, in view of his future work and usefulness. they did not fall out about it, however, and there was one matter of interest and discussion which they enjoyed entirely. this was the minister's much valued library. it was to be david's at some future time. that was quite settled, and in the meantime it had to be looked over and dusted and re-arranged, or rather arranged exactly as it had been left, and david handled the books "just as his father used to do," miss bethia said, "just as if he liked the feel of them in his hands," which he doubtless did. he liked them altogether, and no day of that happy month passed without at least one hour passed in the quiet of his father's study. david's coming home was especially good for frank. he had been more anxious and unhappy about david's affairs than he had confessed, and about philip's possible share in them--more anxious than he was able to believe possible, after he had talked it all over with david and violet. that he had been really afraid that philip had done any wrong, he would not allow to himself. to the others he never spoke of what his fears had been. but it was a great relief and satisfaction that it was all past, and no one worse for it, and as far as frank was concerned, there was nothing to interfere with the enjoyment of the days as they passed. there had been one thing very terrible to him before he came to gourlay to tell it to aunt mary--the fear of blindness. it had been all the worse for him at home, because he never spoke of his fears there--no one could bear to think of anything so sad, and fears brooded over in silence increase in power. but he could speak of it to mrs inglis, and the mere telling his fears had done something to allay them. mrs inglis's judicious words did more. it was foolish and wrong, she said, to go half way to meet so great a trouble. and since the physicians all declared that only time and an improved state of health were needed to restore perfectly his sight, to wait patiently and hopefully was his duty. it was easier for him to do so than it had been at home, and something better than patient waiting, better even than the hope of fully restored sight, came to frank as the summer days went on. he and david enjoyed much, after the manner of lads of their age, in the agreeable circumstances in which they were placed; but their chief enjoyment was of a kind which lads of their age do not usually prize very much. david was boyish in many ways still, but the discipline of the last two years had wrought well with him, and frank saw a great difference in him in one respect, at least. he had always been thoughtful, and he had always been earnest in the grave discussions into which they had sometimes fallen during his first visit, but there was this difference in him now, frank saw. he spoke now, not doubtfully and wistfully as they all used to do, about "the whole armour" and the christian's "weapons" and "warfare," but with firmness and assurance, as of something with which he had to do; and, though he said little about himself at such times, it gradually became clear to frank that david was no longer his own--that his name had been enrolled among the names of those whose honour and glory it is that they are the soldiers of the lord jesus. it sometimes happens that young persons who have been carelessly brought up, or whose religious teaching has been merely formal, have less hesitation in speaking about personal religion than others who have had their consciences, if not their hearts, touched by the earnest and loving appeals of those who watch for their souls as they who must give account. and so, when david, sometimes unconsciously, and sometimes with intention, made it clear to him how the aim and purpose of his life were changed, and how he longed and meant to live in future as the servant and soldier of christ, frank listened and questioned with interest. and when david went further, and ventured on a gentle word or two of entreaty or counsel to him personally, he not only listened patiently, but responded frankly to all. and it was not always david who was first to turn the conversation to serious subjects. frank had never forgotten the lessons learned during his first visit. he had often, in his own mind, compared the life his father was living with the life mr inglis had lived, and he did not think his father's life was the wisest or the happiest. "labour for that which satisfieth not," told best the story of his father's life to him. he had thought that often during the last year, for he knew a little of his sister's exacting demands, of his brother's careless expenditure, and of the anxieties which troubled his father's days and nights because of them, and because of other things. and now, when in gourlay he heard of the fruit already gathered and still to gather from the good seed sown in past years by the minister, he thought it still the more. even for this life, the minister had had the best portion. true, he had lived and died a poor man; but, to frank, it seemed that more was to be enjoyed in such poverty than ever his father had enjoyed from his wealth. frank had many unhappy thoughts about his father and the rest, and some about himself. for himself and for them he desired nothing so much as that they might all learn the secret of perfect contentment which mr inglis had known, which made mrs inglis cheerful and not afraid, though there was little between her and utter poverty--the secret which david knew and violet. and so, when david, in his not very assured way, spoke to him of the true riches, and of how they were to be obtained, he was more than willing to listen, and pleased and surprised his friend by his eagerness to learn. it was with no design or expectation of teaching on david's part, but it happened because they both cared about those things, that whenever they were alone together--on their way to or from any of their many visiting-places, or in the fields or woods, or while sailing on the river, the conversation almost always turned on graver matters than young lads usually care to discuss. it was often the same when violet was with them or the mother, and frank had reason to remember this time; for out of all these earnest talks and happy influences, there sprang up in his heart a strong desire to be, as they were, a follower of christ-- a wish to give himself to him and to his service--to be his in life and his in death. and by and by the desire was granted. he who never refuses to receive those who come to him in sincerity, received him, and henceforth he and david were more than friends--they were brothers, by a bond stronger than that of blood, being joined in heart to him, of whom it is said, "he is not ashamed to call" his people "brethren." philip did not come to gourlay, though an invitation was sent him by mrs inglis, and accepted by him. he was very busy in the office in david's absence, he wrote, but he would avail himself of the first leisure to come to them. he did not come, however, and they could only suppose that he was too useful in the office to be spared. they were very sorry, of course, for his sake and theirs, but the days passed happily with them. the time to leave came only too soon. mrs inglis decided that it would be better for them all to return to singleton together, as the autumn days were becoming short, and it was time to be thinking of winter arrangements in many things. the last night came. it was not a night like the last one of frank's former visit; but frank was reminded of that night all the same. instead of the rain, and wind, and sleet, that had made that night so dismal without, and the lights and the fire so pleasant within, there was a cloudless sky, flooded with the light of the harvest moon, and the air was so still that it did not stir the leaves of the trees beneath which they lingered. and yet frank was in some way reminded of the night when they read about hobab, and waited so long for mr inglis to come home. david must have been reminded of it, too, for, by and by, they heard him speaking to miss bethia of old tim, and about his going with his father when he preached his funeral sermon at the north gore. "and an excellent sermon it was," said miss bethia. "don't you remember telling me about it that night when i was helping letty to do the week's ironing when debby was away?" "yes," said david, laughing a little, "i remember it quite well." but, he added, gravely in a minute, "i think that must have been the very last time my father preached when he was quite well." "i am afraid he was not quite well then," said miss bethia, "though the sermon was good enough to have been his last. the night you repeated it to me was the first time i thought you had better be a minister. you might tell it over now, if you haven't forgotten it." david said to himself that he would be past remembering most things when he should forget what his father had said that day, and all that grew out of it. but he did not tell miss bethia so. he would not speak of the sermon, however--he would not go over it as a mere trial of memory; and, besides, it was not to be supposed that the children would listen patiently on this last night, when there was so much to be said. so, after that, the talk was mostly left to the little ones, and wandered away in various directions. sometimes it was guided past week-day subjects by the mother, and sometimes it was gently checked, but, for the most part, this was not needed. the feeling that it was the last night was on them, and they were very quiet and a little sad. miss bethia was sad, too, and said little. she did not so far forget her duty as to omit her usual words of caution and counsel to each and all; but she did not mete it with her usual decision, and very nearly broke down in the middle of it. "aunt bethia, why don't you come home with us?" said polly. "mamma, why don't you ask aunt bethia to come home and stay with us till next summer?" "where should we put her? there is no room in our house," said the practical jessie, before her mother could answer. "that's so," said miss bethia. "old as i have got to be, there ain't room for me in anybody's house but my own. i guess debby and i will have to get along the best way we can till next summer, and then you must all come back again." "we don't know what may happen before next year," said jessie. "and it is no good making plans so far ahead," said ned. "and we shall hope to see miss bethia before summer, and then we can make our plans. our house is not very large, aunt bethia, but there will always be room enough in it for such a friend as you have been to us all." "and you have promised to come, aunt bethia," said violet. "if all is well," said miss bethia, gravely. "but we are poor creatures, at the best, as i don't need to tell you; and i don't feel as if i could count on much time or strength for my part. but it ain't best to worry." "we have had a good time here this summer, whether we come again or not," said sarah oswald. "i would like to stay here all winter, if violet would stay too. it would be a great deal pleasanter than going back to aunt livy." "only it is not quite the right thing to say so, sally," said frank. "it would be pleasant to stay for some things," said violet. "but i am glad we are going home now. we shall come again in the summer, if aunt bethia will have us." "you are glad you came, mamma?" said david. "very glad. it has been a happy summer to us all. the leaving you alone was the only thing to be regretted; but i don't think you are really the worse for being left." "no," said david, with a long breath. "but i am very glad we are all going home together. i only wish aunt bethia was not going to be left behind." in her heart miss bethia knew that it was quite as well for all concerned that she was to be left behind, still it pleased her to hear david's wish. she had had a pleasant summer as well as the rest; but she was not so strong as she used to be, and needed quiet. "debby and i will tough it out together through the winter," said she; "and, like as not, those of us who are spared will have to make all their plans all over again. it will be all right, whichever way it is." violet and david looked at miss bethia and at each other in surprise, not so much at her words, as at her manner of saying them. she looked as though it needed an effort to speak calmly, and she was very pale; and when she put up her hands to gather her shawl closer about her, they both noticed that they were trembling and uncertain. "miss bethia is growing old," whispered david. "and there is something more the matter with her than she will acknowledge, i am afraid," said violet. "it is time to go into the house. the dew is beginning to fall. come, children," said the mother, rising. david and violet came last with miss bethia. she smiled, well pleased, when, with boyish gallantry, david offered her his arm. "i've gone alone all my life," said she, "and now i am most at the end of it. i've taken a great many steps, too, at one time and another, but they don't seem to amount to much to look back upon." "and you have a good many more to take, i hope," said violet, hardly knowing how to answer her. but miss bethia shook her head. "it ain't likely. but the next six months seem longer to look forward to than a great many years do to look back upon. it is all right, anyhow. and, children, if i should never see you again--i want you to remember to consider your mother always. you must never forget her." "no," said david, wondering a little at her earnestness. "and, david, and you too, violet, don't you get to thinking too much about property. it is a good thing to have, i'll allow, but it ain't the best thing by considerable. some get to love it, by having too much, and some by having too little; but it ain't a satisfying portion any way that it can be fixed, and the love of it makes one forget everything else. and be sure and be good children to your mother, if i shouldn't ever see you again. i don't suppose i need to tell you so; but it's about as good a thing to say for a last word as any, except this--follow the lord always, and keep your armour bright." they answered her gravely and earnestly, as she seemed to expect, but it was with no thought that they were listening to her last words. they would see her, doubtless, many a time again; and they said so to her, as she repeated them in the morning when it was time to go. but violet never saw her again; david saw her, when she was almost past words, and then she could only, with labouring breath, repeat the very same to him. it would have been a very sorrowful leave-taking if the children could have known that it was their last "good-bye" to miss bethia. but it never came into the minds of any of them that the next time they saw the pleasant house in gourlay, she would be sleeping by their father's side in the grave-yard over the hill. chapter fifteen. the next winter passed at the bridge house very much as former winters had done. violet was in her old place at mr oswald's. it was much quieter there than it had ever been before, for selina was spending the winter with her sister, and mr philip had gone to a situation in the city of m--, his father hoping that the stricter and more constant attention to his duties, that would be required from him there, would tell better in his business education than irregular work in the office at home could be supposed to do. frank's eyes were better, but he was not permitted to use them much yet. it was part of violet's duty to read to him, and a judicious selection of a course of historical reading made the winter pleasant and profitable to both. jem was at school no longer. there is no royal road to the attainment of knowledge and skill in the profession he had chosen, even when the means and appliances of wealth are at one's disposal; and, having no money, there was nothing for jem but to work with his hands as well as his head, and so he was adding his quota to the clamour made all day in the great engine-house at the other side of the town. indeed, he worked a good deal more with his hands than his head for a time, and it needed some persuasion on his mother's part, and the exercise of some authority to keep him, during a reasonable time, every evening at his books. for jem was a little unsettled by the new circumstances in which he found himself. his friendly ways and bright good temper made him popular among his fellow-workmen, and his popularity and his love of fun, together, the more exposed him to the power of temptations inseparable from the place, and but for his mother's kindness and firmness, judiciously mingled, it might have gone ill with jem that winter. but he settled down after a little, and, with mr anstruther's help, devoted himself as zealously as ever to those branches of study absolutely necessary to advancement in the profession of an engineer. it was rather an anxious winter to mrs inglis on jem's account, but it was, on the whole, a satisfactory winter to look back on, as far as he was concerned. affairs were not going on so smoothly in the bank as they used to do. there were changes there. one clerk was removed to another branch of the concern, and the services of another were dispensed with altogether. david gained a step or two in consequence, and worked hard in acquiring the knowledge necessary for a right performance of his higher duties. mr oswald was away often, and did not seem to be in good health or spirits when he was at home. in spring, he resigned his office of acting director of the bank, and another was appointed in his place. mr caldwell, who had come into the bank with him, left with him--not because his services were no longer required there, but because mr oswald needed him, and he chose to give his services to him. for there were signs of coming trouble to the oswalds. it began to be whispered in the town that the affairs of mr oswald were not in a prosperous condition, and that the resignation of his position in the bank had not been voluntary on his part, but demanded of him by those who were responsible for the successful carrying on of its affairs. not that anything had gone wrong as yet, but he was extensively engaged in other business, and had other interests. he had to do with the quarries, and with lumbering affairs, and he had had something to do with the building of a railway, and had not prospered in all these things; and it could not be doubted that trouble was before him. there had been some anxiety lest david's place in the bank might not be permanent in the midst of so many changes, but no change was made in his case, and except that his work was somewhat different, and that more responsibility rested on him with regard to some matters, all went on as before. he missed mr oswald's face in the inner office, and he greatly missed the comings and goings of mr caldwell; but all went on in the bank with the same system and order as it had ever done. but troubles were thickening around the oswalds. mrs mavor was ill and selina was sent for to be with her. mr philip lost his situation in m--, and came home. rumours had reached david, before this time, that his manner of life had not been satisfactory to his employers or to his friends, and jem had heard more than david about him. except to their mother, neither of them had spoken of this, but no one seemed surprised at his return. before his return, mr oswald had been taken very ill, and his inability to attend to his business involved it in difficulties, which threatened to hasten the unhappy crisis, which even mr caldwell acknowledged must have come sooner or later on him. there was trouble in the house, it may well be supposed. violet had many cares, for miss oswald was entirely occupied with her brother in his illness, and frank devoted himself to his father in a way that was a help and a comfort to them all. as for mr philip, it was very difficult to believe that it could have come to this pass with his father. it seemed impossible to him that, after so many years of successful business-life, his father should be in danger of being left penniless; and he insisted to frank and david, and even to mr caldwell, that there must have been mismanagement--probably dishonesty--on the part of some of those with whom he held business relations; and that this unhappy illness had been taken advantage of to bring matters to the painful crisis they had reached. so fully was he convinced of this, that it was, with difficulty, he could be prevented from applying to his father to obtain information with regard to certain affairs. but the doctor was imperative as to his not being disturbed by allusions to business now, or for some time to come. "it might cost his life or his reason, dr ward says," repeated frank. "and even if he could be spoken to, it would do no good while he is unable to leave his room or even his bed. we must wait patiently. i don't suppose it will make any real difference in the end." even frank knew more about his father's affairs than philip did. "if i had only staid in the office, instead of going to m-- last year," said he. "i don't suppose it would have made much difference. you would have known something about the books, perhaps, and papa might not have had to pay out so much money for you. i don't know, though. it is easy enough to spend money anywhere." philip walked about impatiently. "what i have spent is not a drop in the bucket," said he. but the thought of the money he had spent and the money he owed made him very miserable. "you know best about that," said frank. "here is something that mr caldwell left to-day. it is addressed to papa, so he opened it, but he found that it is meant for you. i am very glad papa did not see it." philip glanced at the paper his brother put in his hand. "have you examined it?" asked he, sharply. "i looked at the sum total, not at the items." "well! a gentleman must spend something on such things, if he is in society." "if he have it of his own to spend, you mean. i don't see the necessity. i'll venture to say that some of these items did not make you more like a gentleman, but less," said frank. "that is for me to decide," said philip, angrily. "i don't know that. however, you'll have to consult mr caldwell about it--the paying of it, i mean. though the chances are, he will neither be able nor inclined to help you." "it is no great affair, anyway." "the helping you? or the sum total? it is more than half of david inglis's yearly salary, and aunt mary has only that to keep house for them all--at least, she can't have much besides. it depends on how you look at a sum of money, whether it seems large or small." philip had no answer ready. he walked about the room angry and miserable. frank went on: "if you had not lost your situation, you might have paid it yourself, in time, i suppose. as it is you will have to fail too, or your creditor must make up his mind to wait. are there more of them?" frank asked the question coolly, as though it were a trifling matter they were discussing, and his manner throughout the whole discussion seemed intended, philip thought, to exasperate him. "and it is not like frank, the least in the world," said he to himself, as he uttered an exclamation at his words. "however," repeated frank, "it is only a drop in the bucket, as you say." philip stood still and looked at him, vexation and astonishment struggling with some other feeling, showing in his face. "frank," said he, "it isn't like you to hit a fellow when he is down." "you need not be so very far down. i would not be down, if i were like you and could do anything," said frank, with something like a sob in his voice. "it is precious little i can do, even if i knew what were needed." "talk with mr caldwell." "mr caldwell! the thought of him gives me a chill; and i don't suppose he would talk with me. he hasn't a very high opinion of me,--in the way of business, or in any way." "he'd talk with you fast enough, if you would talk reasonably. try him. he wants some one to go to q-- about the timber that has been lying there some weeks now. papa spoke about it too. it would have paid well, if he had been able to attend to the sale of it himself. but he has not perfect confidence in donnelly the agent, and the time is passing. it must be sold soon, and mr caldwell can't be everywhere. i told him to send davie inglis, but he must not take him from the bank he thinks; and, besides he is so young and so boyish-looking. you would do quite as well, i dare say. at any rate, you would be better than no one." philip looked as though he thought he was being "hit" again, but he said nothing. "one thing is certain," continued frank, "if you are going to do any good in our present fix, you can only do it by knuckling down to old caldwell. nobody knows so much about papa's affairs as he does." whether philip "knuckled down" to mr caldwell or not, he never told frank, but he did tell him that he was going in a day or two to q--, to make arrangements for the sale of timber accumulated there for ship-building purposes, or for exportation. he did not know much about the matter and did not speak very hopefully. the sting of it was that he might have known if he had done as his father had had a right to expect him to do. however, mr caldwell sent him away none the less willingly because of his low spirits. "you will do better than nobody," said he, as frank had said before. "you can have an eye on the books and on all the papers. don't let donnelly be too much for you." it would not do to enter into all the particulars of philip's first business venture. it is enough to say, he was successful in circumstances where failure would not have been surprising; and the very first time he saw his father after he was a little better, he had the satisfaction of hearing mr caldwell telling him of the successful termination of the sale of the timber. he had the greater satisfaction of prompting that slow-spoken gentleman where his memory or his information failed, and of giving all details to his father, who was both relieved and pleased with the turn this affair had taken. but success in this his first independent attempt at doing business could not avert the troubles that had been long hanging over his father. if mr oswald had been in perfect health, it might have been different. with time granted to continue his business relations, or even to settle up his own affairs, he might have been able to give every man his own. but his health came very slowly back, and affairs in the meantime wrought to a crisis. philip strove hard to obtain time, and pledged himself to the full payment of all his father's liabilities within a limited period. even mr caldwell was influenced by his earnestness and hopefulness, and by the good sense and business ability manifested by him in several transactions with which he had had to do, and joined with him in representing mr oswald's affairs to be in such a condition that care and time, and close attention alone were needed to set them right, and to satisfy all just claims at last. but philip was young and inexperienced, and those of his father's creditors who knew him best, knew nothing in his past life to give them confidence either in his principles or his judgment, and they could not be induced to yield to him in this matter. so it only remained for mr oswald to give up all that he possessed, to satisfy as far as possible all just demands. it was a very bitter experience for him to pass through, but he was in a state of health too weak and broken fully to realise all that it involved. for the time it was worse for his sons than for him. frank devoted himself all the more earnestly to his father's care and comfort, and his doing so made this time of trouble more endurable for both. philip saw little of his father. his place was to act for him wherever he could do so, so as to spare him as much as possible the details of the painful business. it was a very miserable time to him. he made up his mind to get away as soon as possible to california or british columbia, or anywhere else, so that it was far enough away. but he did not go. he did far better than that would have been. he staid at home, not very willingly, still he staid, and tried to do his duty as he had never tried before, and there were times when it was not easy to do. mr caldwell, as one in whom the creditors had perfect confidence, both as to his conscientiousness and his knowledge of affairs, was appointed by them to settle up mr oswald's business, and with their permission philip oswald was requested to act as his assistant for the time. it was not the thing he would have chosen for himself, but if he had gone away now, it must have been without his father's consent, and if he staid at home it was absolutely necessary that he should earn money for the payment of his own debts. there was nothing better offered for his acceptance, and mr caldwell's terms were such as even philip considered liberal. "though i know quite well he would much rather have had davie inglis," said he to frank, when it was quite settled that he was to stay. "i don't believe he thinks i shall be much good. however, i must take it and make the best of it." "you are quite wrong. davie wouldn't suit him half so well as you in this business, though of course he has perfect confidence in davie, and you have to be tried yet. but he knows you will make it a point of honour to do your best in the circumstances." "if these people in m-- had not been such fools as to force matters on, there might have been some inducement to do one's best in straightening out things. and it would have been better for them and for us too. i wish i were a thousand miles away from it all." "no, you don't, unless you could take the rest, of us out of it too. for my part, i think you have a grand opportunity to exercise courage and patience, and to win honour and glory as a true hero. just you go down and speak to aunt mary and violet about it." "i think i see myself doing it!" said philip, as though it were a thing utterly impossible and not to be considered for a moment. however, before many days were over, he found himself at the bridge house, enjoying mrs inglis's kindly sympathy, and the delighted welcome of the children, more than he would have imagined possible. he had seen very little of any of them for a long time, and was ashamed of his defection, conscious as he was of the cause. it was not comfortable for him to talk with mrs inglis, or to share in the pursuits and amusements of her young people, with the consciousness of wrong-doing upon him. wrong-doing according to _their_ standard of right and wrong, he meant, of course. according to _his_ standard, there were many things he could do, and many things he could leave undone, quite innocently, of which they would not approve. several of such questionable incidents had occurred in his manner of life about the time of their return from gourlay last year, and he had kept away from them. he had been too busy since his coming back from m-- to see much of any of his friends, and this was his first visit to the bridge house for a long time. "why did you not come before?" said little mary. "i have been very busy. are you glad to see me now?" "yes, very glad, and so is mamma and all of us. i want to show you something." and the child went on to make confidences about her own personal affairs, into which mr philip entered with sufficient interest, as his manner was. he had only time for a word or two with the mother before jem and david came in. "your father is really improving, i am glad to hear," said mrs inglis when the children left them. philip's face clouded. "is he better? it hardly seems to me that he gains at all. he is very much discouraged about himself." "frank thinks him better. it is a great relief to him, he says, that you are here." "i ought never to have gone away," said philip, sighing. "but your father wished it, did he not? perhaps it would have been better had you been here. however, you are here now. frank says he begun to improve the very day you consented to assist mr caldwell in the settlement of his affairs." philip hung his head. "don't be hard on me, aunt mary." "am i hard on you? i am sure i don't know how. that is frank's idea of the matter." "aunt mary! if you only knew what a good-for-nothing fellow i have been! i am sure i cannot see why my father should have confidence in me." "in whom should he have confidence, if not in you?" said mrs inglis, smiling. philip had nothing to answer. a feeling of shame, painful but wholesome, kept him silent. even according to his own idea of right, he had been undutiful in his conduct to his father. he had accepted all from him, he had exacted much, and he had given little in return, except the careless respect to his wishes in little things, which he could not have refused to any one in whose house he was a guest. they had been on friendly terms enough, as a general thing, but there had been some passages between them which he did not like to remember. that his father should have had any satisfaction in him or his doings, except indeed in the case of the transaction of the timber at q--, was not a very likely thing. the very supposition went deeper than any reproaches could have gone and filled him with pain and regret. "frank is a good fellow, but he does not know everything," said he, dolefully. "i think he must know about your father, however, he is with him so constantly, and he says he is better. it will be some time before he is able for business again, i am afraid. in the meantime he has perfect confidence in mr caldwell and in you, which must be a comfort to him." philip shook his head. "aunt mary, the business is no longer his, and what we are doing is for the benefit of others. he has lost everything." "he has not lost everything, i think," said mrs inglis, smiling, "while he has you and frank and your sisters. he would not say so." philip rose and came and stood before her. "mrs inglis, i cannot bear that you should think of me as you do. it makes me feel like a deceiver. i have not been a good son to my father. i am not like your davie." mrs inglis smiled as though she would have said, "there are not many like my davie." but she looked grave in a minute and said-- "there is one thing in which you differ. davie is an avowed servant of the lord jesus christ. he professes to desire to live no longer to himself, but to him." "and you think that is everything, aunt mary?" "i think it is the chief thing." "well, i am not like that. i am very far from that." "but this ought to be the chief thing for you as well as for david, ought it not?" "i have not thought about it, aunt mary." "you have not taken time. you have fallen on easy days hitherto. it would have been difficult to convince you that, to be a servant of god, a follower of the lord jesus is the chief thing--the only thing, while each day brought with it enough to satisfy you. this trouble, which has come upon you all, may have been needed--to make you think about it." philip answered nothing, but sat gazing at the clouds, or at the leaves which rustled at the window, with his cheek upon his hand. there is a time to keep silence and a time to speak, and mrs inglis could not be sure on which of these she had fallen. she longed to say just the right word to him, but hitherto her words had fallen like water on the rock, which, in the first gleam of sunshine, disappears. he always listened, grave or smiling, as the occasion seemed to demand. he listened with eagerness, pleased at her interest in him, pleased to be treated like one of the children, to be praised or chidden, and, for all that she could see, as well pleased with the one as with the other. as she sat watching him in silence, mrs inglis thought of violet's complaint against him. "he is not in earnest. he cares only for his own pleasure." "ah! well! the master knows how to deal with him, though i do not," she said to herself. aloud, she said, "you must not suppose that i mean that religion is for a time of trouble, more than for a time of prosperity. it is the chief thing always--the only thing. but, in a time of trouble, our need of something beyond what is in ourselves, or in the world, is brought home to us. philip, dear lad, it is a wonderful thing to be a soldier and servant of the lord jesus. it is a service which satisfies--which ennobles. all else may fail us, or fetter us, or lead us astray. but, belonging to christ--being one with him--nothing can harm us truly. are you to lose all this, philip? letting it pass by you--not _thinking_ about it?" she had no time to add more, nor had he time to answer her, even if he could have found the words. for first david came in, and then jem, all black and dirty from the forge, and, proud of it, evidently. his greeting was rather noisy, after the free-and-easy manner which jem affected about this time. david's greeting was quiet enough, but a great deal more frank and friendly, than his greetings of philip had usually been, his mother was pleased to see. jem made a pretence of astonishment at the sight of him, meaning that he might very well have come to see his mother sooner; but david fell into eager discussion of some matter interesting to both, and then jem went away to beautify himself, as he called the washing off the marks of his day's work. when tea-time came, philip hesitated about accepting mrs inglis's invitation to remain. "you may as well," said ned; "for i saw violet up-town and i told her you were here, so they will be sure not to wait." so he staid, and made good his place among them after his long absence. something had been said in the early spring about mrs inglis and the children going to spend the summer in gourlay again. but there was not the same necessity for a change that there had been last year, and the matter was not at once decided. while mrs inglis hesitated, there came tidings that decided it for her. there came, from miss bethia, a letter, written evidently with labour and difficulty. she had been poorly, "off and on by spells," she said, all winter; and now, what she had long feared, had become evident to all her friends. a terrible and painful disease had fastened upon her, which must sooner or later prove fatal. "later," she feared it might be; for, through long months, which grew into years before they were over, she had nursed her mother in the same disease, praying daily that the end might come. "i am not afraid of the end," she wrote; "but remembering my poor mother's sufferings, i _am_ afraid of what must come before the end. it would help pass the time to have you and the children here this summer; but it might not be the best thing for them or you, and you must judge. i should like to see david, but there will be time enough, for i am afraid the end is a long way off. i am a poor creetur not to feel that the lord knows best what i can bear. it don't seem as though i could suffer much more than i used to, seeing my mother's suffering. and i _know_ the lord is kind and pitiful, though i sometimes forget." mrs inglis's answer to this letter was to go to gourlay without loss of time. at the first sight of miss bethia, she did not think her so very ill. she thought her fears had magnified her danger to herself. but she changed her opinion when she had been there a day or two. the angel of death was drawing near, and all that made his coming terrible was that he came so slowly. at times she suffered terribly, and her sufferings must increase before the end. the coming of the children was not to be thought of, mrs inglis could see. she would fain have staid to nurse her, but this could not be while they needed her at home. she promised to return if she were needed, and begged to be sent for if she could be a comfort to her. all that care and good nursing could do to alleviate her suffering, miss bethia had. debby stone was still with her, and debby's sister serepta, whose health had much improved during the year. the neighbours were very kind and considerate, and mrs inglis felt that all that could be done for her would be done cheerfully and well. so she went home; but through the summer they heard often how it was with their old friend. but first one thing and then another hindered mrs inglis from going to see her till september had well begun. then there came a hasty summons for david and his mother, for there were signs and tokens that the coming of the king's messenger was to be "sooner," and not "later," as she had feared. so violet came home because they could not tell how long the mother might have to stay, and their departure was hastened. but the king's messenger had come before them. they saw his presence in the changed face of their friend. they did not need her whispered assurance, that she need not have been afraid--that it was well with her, and the end was come. "david," she said, brokenly, as her slow, sobbing breath came and went, "you'll care for your mother always, i know; and you must follow the lord, and keep your armour bright." she fell into a troubled sleep, and waking, said the same words over again, only with more difficult utterance. she spoke to his mother now and then in her painful whisper, sending messages to violet and jem and all the rest; and once she asked her if she had a message for the minister, whom she was sure so soon to see. but the only words that david heard her speak were these, and he answered: "i will try, aunt bethia;" but he had not voice for more. it was like a dream to him to be there in the very room where he had watched that last night with his father. it seemed to be that night again, so vividly did it all come back. "mamma," he whispered, "can you bear it?" by and by they went up-stairs, and into the study, which was still kept as they had left it two years ago. "mamma," said david, again, "it is like a dream. nothing in the whole world seems worth a thought--standing where we stood just now." "except to keep one's armour bright, my david," said his mother. "happy miss bethia! she will soon be done with all her trouble now." they watched that night and the next day, scarcely knowing whether she recognised them, or whether she were conscious of what seemed terrible suffering to those who were looking on; and then the end came. it was all like a dream to david, the coming and going of the neighbours, the hush and pause that came at last, the whispered arrangements, the moving to and fro, and then the silence in the house. he seemed to be living over the last days of his father's life, so well remembered--living them over for his mother, too, with the same sick feeling that he could not help or comfort her, or bear her trouble for her, or lighten it. and yet, seeing her there so calm and peaceful in every word and deed; so gentle, and helpful, and cheerful, he knew that she was helped and comforted, and that it was not all sorrow that the memory of the other death-bed stirred. when he went out into the air again, he came to himself, and the dazed, dreamy feeling went away. it was their good and kind old friend who had gone to her rest, and it would be wrong to regret her. there were many who would remember her with respect and gratitude, and none more than he and his mother and the children at home. but her death would leave no great gap, that could never be filled as his father's had done. she had been very kind to them of late years, and they would miss her; and then--it suddenly came into david's mind about his father's books, and about the sum that had three times been paid to his mother since they had been in miss bethia's care. he was ashamed because of it; but he could not help wondering whether it would be paid still, or whether they would take the books away or leave them where they were. he did not like to speak to his mother. it seemed selfish and ungrateful to think about it even; but he could not keep it out of his mind. there was another day of waiting, and then the dead was carried away to her long home. there were none of her blood to follow her thither. the place of mourners was given to mrs inglis and david, and then followed debby and her sister. a great many people followed them; all the towns-folk joined in doing honour to miss bethia's memory, and a few old friends dropped over her a tear of affection and regret. but there was no bitter weeping--no painful sense of loss in any heart because she had gone. david sat in the church, and walked to the grave, and came back again to the empty house, with the same strange, bewildered sense upon him of having been through it all before. it clung to him still, as one after another of the neighbours came dropping in. he sat among them, and heard their eager whispers, and saw their curious and expectant looks, and vaguely wondered what else was going to happen that they were waiting to see. debby and her sister were in the other room, seemingly making preparations for tea; and once debby came and looked in at the door, with a motion as if she were counting to see how many places might be needed, and by and by serepta came and looked, too, and david got very tired of it all. his mother had gone up-stairs when she first came in, and he went in search of her. "mamma, i wish we could have gone home to-night," said he, when, in answer to his knock, she had opened the door. "it was late, dear, and mr bethune said he would like to see me before we went away." "about the books, mamma? i wish i knew about them." "you will know soon. i have no doubt they will be yours, as miss bethia intimated before we left them here. there may be some condition." "i wonder what all the people are waiting for? are you not very tired, mamma? debby is getting tea ready." debby came in at the moment to make the same announcement. "tea is ready now," said she. "i'd as lief get tea for the whole town once in a while as not. but it ain't this tea they're waiting for, and if i was them i'd go." "what are they waiting for?" asked david. "don't you know? oh, i suppose it's to show good-will. folks generally do at such times. but i'll ring the tea-bell, and that'll scare some of them home may be. some of them'll have to wait till the second table, if they all stay, that's one thing. and i hope they'll think they've heard enough to pay them before they go." they did not hear very much, certainly. mr bethune from singleton was there, but the interest of the occasion was not in his hands. deacon spry had it all his own way, and opened and read with great deliberation a paper which had been committed to him. it was not miss bethia's will, as every one hoped it might be, but it was a paper written by her hand, signifying that her will, which was in mr bethune's keeping, was to be opened just a year from the day of her death. in the meantime deborah stone was to live in her house and take care of it and what property there was about it. her clothes and bedding were in part for debby, and the rest to be divided among certain persons named. mrs inglis was requested to leave her late husband's library where it was for one year, unless she should see some good reason for taking it away. and that was all. everybody looked surprised, except debby, who had known the contents of the paper from miss bethia. "i suppose it'll be mr bethune's business to look up bethia's relations within the year. folks generally _do_ leave their property to their relations, even if they don't know much about them. but i rather expected she'd do something for the cause among us," said deacon spry, in a slightly aggrieved tone. "i thought she'd at least new paint the meeting house," said sam jones. "or put a new fence round the grave-yard." "well! may be she has! we'll see when the year's out." "no, folks most always leave their property to their own relations. they seem nearest, come toward the end." "i don't suppose she's left a great deal besides the house, anyway. i wonder just how much debby stone knows?" it was not pleasant to listen to all this. debby had nothing to tell, not knowing anything; nor mr bethune, though he doubtless knew all. so there was nothing better to do than just wait till the right time came. "i suppose we may count upon the books, mamma, or she would not have asked you to leave them here?" said david. "yes, i think so. she never called them hers, you know. she will have explained it to mr bethune, i suppose. i think you may count on the books." chapter sixteen. another year passed quietly over the inglis household. jem and david both did good service, each in his special calling, and made some progress in other things besides. david kept the plan of his life steadily before him, but this year did not, to all appearance, bring its fulfillment any nearer. it did not seem impossible to him that their life should go on in the same quiet routine, without break or change, for a long time, nor did this seem impossible to his mother. there was this difference in their thoughts, however. while davie, with the impatience of youth, grew anxious now and then, as though the sowing time were passing with no seed being put in, his mother knew that there was nothing lost to his future work as yet, that the discipline of early care and self-denial, the constant and willing giving of himself to work, which in itself was not congenial, was a better preparation than he knew. she felt that if the master had a special work for him to do, he would provide a way for special preparation, and that his time was best. david knew this too, and was on the whole content to look forward a good way yet, for the change that must come, when his wish with regard to this one thing should be granted. he was more than content. life went very quietly and happily with them this year, and it was a profitable time in many ways. jem's work agreed with him, it seemed, for he was growing tall and strong. his gay and careless temper brought him into some difficulties this year, and being at that age when a young lad making his own way is apt to become tenacious about little things which concern his dignity, and impatient of the open exercise of restraint acknowledged to be lawful and right, he needed to be gently and carefully managed. but happily this uncomfortable period did not last long with jem. he grew manly in character as well as in appearance, and grew more, rather than less, open to home influence as he grew older. david's fair face and quiet manner gave jem an appearance of advantage over him as far as manliness was concerned, and strangers often took jem to be the eldest of the brothers. jem himself, in a laughing way, claimed to be beyond him in a knowledge of the world--on its hard side-- and made merry pretence and promise of advising and protecting him in certain supposed circumstances of difficulty or danger. but in his heart he deferred to his brother, as in all things far wiser and better than he. as to david's plans and their carrying out, jem saw neither doubt nor difficulty. in a few years--not very distinctly specified--jem was to become the head and bread-winner of the house, and david was to go his own way to honour and usefulness. jem was still to be the rich man of the family, though the time and manner of winning his wealth he could not make very clear; and david laughed and accepted his freedom from care and his brother's gifts very gratefully, and professed to have no scruples as to his future claims upon him. when mr oswald's household was broken up, violet returned home. but happily an opportunity occurred for her to obtain what she had long secretly coveted, a chance to improve herself, in some branches of study, under better masters than singleton could afford. she passed the greater part of the year as pupil-teacher in a superior school in m--, and returned home in the end of june. the year was of great advantage to her in many ways, though the children at home could not see it. she "was just the same as ever," they said, which was a high compliment, though not intended as such. she had not changed, but she had made advances in several directions her mother was pleased to discover. her return was a great pleasure to her brothers, but jem was critical now and then, and spoke of "airs and graces," and "fine manners," as though she were not quite innocent of those on occasion. david was indignant, but violet laughed at them both, and proved that whatever change had come to her manners, none had come to her temper, "which was a blessing," jem acknowledged. mr oswald's household was broken up about the time of miss bethia's death. selina remained with her sister, and the little girls went with their aunt to her former home. mr oswald had been induced to take the sea voyage, and the entire rest from business, which his physicians declared absolutely necessary to his entire restoration to health. frank accompanied him to england, where they both remained during the year. his health had improved, and there was some expectation that they would return at the close of the summer. his house had been sold, and was now used as a hospital for the poor and sick of the town. the extensive grounds around it had been cut up by the opening of several new streets in that direction, and one could scarcely have recognised the place that used to be so beautiful in the eyes of the inglis children. however, the only oswald left in singleton took the sale of the house, in which he had been born and brought up, very philosophically. the opening of the new streets had increased the value of the land immensely, and under the careful hands of mr caldwell, that and all other property belonging to mr oswald was being so disposed of that his creditors had a good prospect of losing nothing by him. philip oswald still asserted, that but for the faint-heartedness which illness had brought upon his father, and the untimely pressure of the creditors because of it, there needed have been no failure. he asserted it indignantly enough some-times, but he did not regret the disposal of the house or the spoiling of the beautiful grounds as he might have been supposed to do. the sudden change in the circumstances of the family had not hurt philip. the year's discipline of constant employment, and limited expenditure, had done him good, and, as he himself declared to jem and david, not before it was time. the boyish follies which had clung to him as a young man, because of the easy times on which he had fallen, must have grown into something worse than folly before long, and but for the chance of wholesome hard work which had been provided for him, and his earnest desire to work out the best possible result for his father's good name, he might have gone to ruin in one way or other. but these things, with the help of other influences, had kept him from evil, and encouraged him to good, and there were high hopes for philip still. he had not been in singleton all the year, but here and there and everywhere, at the bidding of the cautious, but laborious and judicious, caldwell, who had daily increasing confidence in his business capacity, and did not hesitate to make the utmost use of his youthful strength. when he was in singleton, his home was in mr caldwell's house. he had gone there for a day or two, till other arrangements could be made. but no other arrangements were needed. he stayed there more contentedly than he could at the beginning of the year have supposed possible, and it grew less a matter of self-denial to mr and mrs caldwell to have him there as time went on. he had a second home in the house of mrs inglis; and this other good had come to him out of his father's troubles, and the way he had taken to help them, that he made a friend of david inglis. he had supposed himself friendly enough with him before, but he knew nothing about him. that is to say, he knew nothing about that which made david so different from himself, so different from most of the young men with whom he had had to do. "in one thing he is different," mrs inglis had said, "he is a servant of god. he professes to wish to live no longer to himself." with this in his thought, he watched david at home and abroad, at first only curiously, but afterwards with other feelings. david was shy of him for a time, and kept the position of "mere lad," which philip had at first given him, long after his friendship was sought on other terms. but they learned to know each other in a little, and they did each other good. mrs inglis saw clearly how well it was for david to have some one more ready and better fitted to share his pleasures and interests than jem, because of his different tastes and pursuits, could possibly do. and she saw also that david's influence could not fail to have a salutary effect on his friend, and she encouraged their intercourse, and did all in her power to make it profitable to them both. violet and the children spent a month in gourlay; but mrs inglis, not liking to leave david and jem alone, only went for a day or two. they returned early in august. mr oswald and frank were expected soon. mr philip's spirits did not rise as the time of their coming drew near. he dreaded for his father the coming back to find no home awaiting him. he consulted with mrs inglis as to the preparations he should make for him; but, when it was talked over among them, it was found that he did not know enough about his father's future plans to make it possible for him to make arrangements for more than a day or two. he did not even know whether he was to remain in singleton. he did not even know whether he should remain in singleton himself. he could decide nothing till they came. he was altogether too anxious and troubled, mrs inglis told him; he had not been like himself for some time. "well, it ought to be all the more agreeable to the rest because of that," said he, laughing. "it has not been. and you must let me say that i think you are troubling yourself more than enough with regard to the coming of your father." "but it is about myself, partly, you know." "well, i think the trouble is uncalled for in either case. it will not be so bad for your father as you fear." "do you know what is the news in town to-day, philip?" asked jem. "that you and old caldwell are going into the produce business together. a queer team you would make!" "we have drawn very well together for the last year," said philip. jem shrugged his shoulders, and made a grimace. "singleton might suit mr caldwell to do business in, but i wouldn't fix myself in singleton if i were you." "nonsense, jem," said david. "there is no better place than singleton for that business, everybody knows." "and, besides, philip is well-known here," said mrs inglis. "i am not sure that it is a better place for me because of that, aunt mary; but it is as good a place as any, i suppose, in which to begin with a small capital." "pooh! about capital! the only men in the country worth their salt began life without a dollar. which of us has capital? and we are all bound to be rich men before we die," said jem. "yes, i dare say. if i were a boy of fifteen, i might say the same," said philip, with a sigh. "hear him! you would think him fifty, at least. and if you mean me," said jem loftily, "i am nearly seventeen. i only wish i were twenty-three, with the world before me." they all laughed at his energy. "there is no hurry, jem. you will need all the years that are before you. violet, put away your work, and play, and the children will sing." violet rose and opened the piano, and there was no more said at that time. while the children were singing, david went out, and, in a little, called philip from the window. philip rose and went out also, and they passed down the garden together. by and by they had enough of music, and violet shut the piano, and sat down beside the window with her work again. jem had the grace to wait till the children went out, and then he said: "mamma, you said i was to tell you the next time, and here it is. you must have noticed yourself--violet's manner, i mean. philip noticed it, i could see. she was as stiff and dignified as mrs mavor herself. i wouldn't put on airs with phil, when he is down as he is to-night, if i were you." violet looked from him to her mother in astonishment. "do you know what he means, mamma?" "you don't need mamma to tell you." "tell me, then, jem. what did i say or do?" "you didn't say or do anything. you were stiff and stupid. mamma must have seen it." "no, jem, i did not. if you mean that violet's manner to mr philip is not the same as to you and davie--why, you know, it can't quite be that." "no, because violet made up her mind long ago that philip oswald was a foolish young man--`not in earnest,' as she used to say. letty can't bear people that are not quite perfect," said jem. letty laughed, and so did her mother. "thank you, jem. that is as much as saying that i consider myself quite perfect." "oh! you may laugh," said jem, loftily; "but if phil, hasn't proved himself steady enough by this time, i don't know what you would have! there are not many would have staid it out, under old caldwell, and have done as he has done. to say nothing about the business not being a very pleasant one." "he has improved very much," said mrs inglis. "and, now, when he and davie are such friends," went on jem, who did not know when he had said enough. "i think if davie approves of him, that ought to be enough for violet." "quite enough, i acknowledge, jem," said violet. "i wonder where davie has gone;" and she rose and went to the door as if to see. she did not find him, if she looked for him, for david and philip, after walking up and down the railway track for some time, went down to david's favourite seat on the stones of the abutment of the bridge close by the water. they were silent for some time after they went there. david sat gazing at the bright clouds that lingered after the sunset, while his friend moved up and down and flung stones into the water. by and by he sat down by david's side, saying-- "and so i am all at sea again." "i don't see why you should be `at sea again,' as you call it," said david. "mr caldwell's offer was made without any reference to me, and my refusal can make no real difference." "it will make all the difference in the world to me." "philip, promise me one thing. don't decide till your father comes and frank. i don't know when i was so glad. see how pleased your father will be." "nonsense, davie! it is no such great thing as all that--a partnership with old caldwell." "hear what your father will say. i can't say how fine a thing it will be to be his partner, but your father will think it a high compliment that he should have wished it. it will be good for you--and for him too. i don't know which i congratulate most." david was growing enthusiastic. "it would do, i think, if you were coming with us. a clerkship now, and a partnership afterwards. there is no hope of making you change your mind, davie?" "would you wish me to change my mind, philip?" said david laying his arm over his friend's shoulder, in a way that would have satisfied violet of his interest and affection. "i don't know. i am not sure. i don't understand it." "yes, you do, philip--or you will sometime. i mean, you will understand why this should be the best thing for me to do. you cannot quite understand all i feel about it, because you never knew my father." "tell me about him," said philip. "it is not what i could tell you that would make you understand. but-- we speak about aspirations and ambitions, philip; but if i had my choice what i should do, or what i should be, i should choose the life, and work, and character of my father." david's voice faltered. "since when has that been your choice?" asked philip. "always! i mean, always since he died. and, before that, he was my ideal of wisdom and goodness, though i did not particularly wish or try to be like him then?" "and it was his wish that you should choose his profession, and live his life, and do his work?" "he wished it,--yes. and now i wish it, not merely because of his wish, but because--i love my lord and master, and because i wish to honour him as his soldier and servant--" david did not find it easy to say all this to philip, and there was silence for a minute or two. "but haven't you been losing time?" said philip. "no. mamma does not think so. time should try a decision so important, she thinks. i am young yet, and i have been keeping up my reading pretty well. and, besides, she thinks the care, and the steady work, and our life altogether,--having to manage with just enough, you know,-- has been good discipline for me, and a sort of preparation." "i see! and when is the other sort of preparation to begin?" "i don't know. the way will open, mamma always says. when we came here first, mamma and violet meant to keep a school; but, after violet went to teach your sisters, we could get on without it, and it was so much better for us to have mamma all to ourselves. she may think of it again, and violet is better able to help her now." "it is a slave's life." "no; i don't think mamma objects to it on that ground. but there is no haste about it. i always remember what mamma said to me once--`if your master has a special work for you to do, he will provide the means for special preparation.'" "what a wonderful woman your mother is!" said philip. david laughed, such a happy laugh. "is she? she does not think so." "i wonder if she would be on my side if i were to tell her all about old caldwell's plans, and how much good you could do with us--and a future partnership, and all that. why, davie, you might, when you are a rich man, educate any number of ministers. wouldn't that do as well as to be one yourself?" "that will be something for you to do. no; i don't think mamma would be on your side." "but you are her bread-winner, as i have heard her say. how can she spare you?" "and i shall always be so while she needs me. i can wait a long time patiently, i think. but i cannot give it up now. it would be `looking back,' after putting my hand to the plough." they were silent for a good while, and then philip said: "tell me about your father." david doubted whether he had anything new to tell, for, as they had come to care more for each other's company, he had often spoken to philip of his father. but if he had nothing new to tell, he told it all over in a new way--a way that made philip wonder. he told him all that i have told you, and more,--of his father's life and work--how wise and strong he was--how loving and beloved. he told him of his love for his master, of his zeal for his service. he told him of his own lessons with him, of how he used to go with him to the north gore and other places, and of what he used to say, and how happy the days used to be. he told him of his last days, and how, when it came to the end, he was so joyful for himself and so little afraid for them, though he was going to leave them alone and poor--how sure he was that god would care for them and keep them safe until they all should meet again. sometimes he spoke with breaking voice, and sometimes, though it had grown dark by this time, philip could see that his cheeks flushed and his eyes shone as he went on, till he came to the very last, and then he said: "he told me then, at the very last--even after he had spoken about mamma, that i was to take up the armour that he was laying down. and, god helping me, so i will," said david, with a sob, laying down his face, to hide his tears, on the shoulder of his friend. but, in a little, he raised it again, and said, quietly: "i couldn't go back after that, philip." "no," said philip; and he said nothing more for a long time, nor did david. philip spoke first: "and so it must be `good-bye,' davie?" "good-bye?" repeated david. "i don't understand?" "you are to take one way and i another; so we part company." david was silent from astonishment. "as our fathers did," said philip. "they were friends once, as we are, davie, but their paths divided, as ours must, i fear." "it need not be so." "it is curious to think of it," went on philip. "if my father were to die to-night, he would leave his children as poor as your father left his when he died. not that it would matter; but then my father has lost his whole life, too. no, davie, i fear the end will be that we must go different ways." "dear philip," said david, standing before him, and speaking with much earnestness, "there is only one thing that can separate us--your serving one master and i another; and that need not be. your work may be as much for him as mine. philip, dear friend--is he your lord and master, as he is mine?" philip shook his head. "i do not know. i fear not, davie. what am i saying? i know he is not. i have never done a stroke of work for him, or for any one at his bidding, or for his sake, and that is the whole truth, davie." "but that is not to be the end! his soldier and servant! there is nothing in all the world to be compared with that! have you offered yourself to him? will you not offer yourself to him? oh, philip! there is nothing else." "davie," said philip, hoarsely, "you don't begin to know what a bad fellow i have been." "no; nor do you. but he knows, and the worse you are the more you need to come to him. have you never asked him to forgive you and take you for his own? it is for him to do it. ask him now!" david threw his arms round the neck of his friend. it was a sudden act, boyish and impulsive--not at all like david. philip was much moved. "ask him, davie," said he, huskily. kneeling beside him on the stone, david did ask him, using simple words and few--such words as philip never forgot--words that he uttered in his own heart many a time afterwards, and not in vain. they lingered a good while, but there was not much said between them after that, and when david went into the house, where his mother and violet were waiting for him, he told them that philip had gone home. by and by he said: "the story jem heard was true, mamma. mr caldwell wants philip to become his partner in a new business. it seems he has saved something, and he is willing to put his capital against philip's youth and energy and business talents. it will be very good for philip and for mr caldwell too." "it shows great confidence on mr caldwell's part," said mrs inglis. "yes; but, mamma, you said it as if you were surprised, as if his confidence might be misplaced." "i am surprised, dear, but the other idea i did not mean to convey. my surprise was because of mr caldwell's well-known deliberation and caution." "yes; the offer, even if it go no further, is a feather in phil's cap," said jem. "but mr caldwell is a shrewd old gentleman, though he be a little slow. he knows what he is about." "you look as though you expected to be contradicted, jem," said violet, laughing. "is philip pleased with the prospect? will the thing go on?" asked mrs inglis. "i think so. i hope so. it will be decided when mr oswald returns. philip would have liked me to go with them--into their service, i mean, with the prospect of something better by and by." "and what did you say to him?" asked his mother. "of course you refused?" said violet. "i don't know about that," said jem. "davie had better think twice before he refuses such an offer. but davie never did appreciate philip." david laughed at jem, and answered his mother. "i told him all about it, mamma. he was disappointed, but he understood, i think." there was no more said that night. jem would gladly have entered into a discussion of the subject, but david did not stay to listen, and violet would not respond, and what he had to say would not have been the best thing to say to his mother, so he kept his opinion for the hearing of philip against the time he should see him again. when philip came, which was not for a day or two, the first words he said to mrs inglis were-- "i think you ought to be a very happy woman, aunt mary." "i think so too. but what has given you new light on the subject?" asked mrs inglis, smiling. "and you ought all to be very happy children," said philip, lifting little mary, who was not so very little now, to his knee. "and so we are," said violet. "and you ought to be very good, too." "and so we are," said jem. "well, then, no more need be said on the subject at present, except that i wish that i were one of you." "tell us about the new partnership," said jem. "it is not to be spoken of yet. it is a secret." "davie told us," said violet. "oh, i don't mean it is to be a secret here! but it is not to be decided till my father comes home. though i suppose he will let me do as i like." "if you are quite sure that you know what you would like." "i am quite sure i know what _i_ would like, but i am not to have _that_, it seems." "is it davie?" said violet. "but you don't mean that you would like him to change his mind and his plans, i hope?" "it would be selfish, wouldn't it, and wrong? no, upon the whole i wouldn't like davie to be different, or to do differently. but i should like to be more like him." "but you are pretty good now, aren't you," said mary. "davie is very fond of you and mamma and all of us. i suppose you are not quite so good as our davie." they all laughed. "i will try to be good, indeed i will, polly," said philip. "well that is right," said mary. "you should speak to mamma. she would help you." "yes, i think she would. i mean to speak to her." and so they chatted on till david came in. philip had made good a place among them. it was quite clear that they all liked him, as little polly had said. they had always liked him from the very first, but he was more worthy of their liking now. mr oswald and frank came home in due time. there was nothing in mr oswald's plans for his son to prevent the carrying out of the plan for the new partnership, as proposed by mr caldwell. he was greatly pleased with the compliment to his son, which mr caldwell's proposal implied, and entered into the discussion of preliminaries with great, interest. as for himself he had returned home with no design of engaging immediately in business, except the business of an insurance company of which he had been made the agent. he was to wait for a year or two at least. frank, whose health and eyesight were quite restored, was offered the place in the new business, which philip would so gladly have given to david. of course he was as yet not so well qualified to perform the duties of the position as david would have been, but he possessed some qualities likely to insure success that david did not have, and he had that which was the source and secret of david's goodness, so firmly believed in by little mary and them all. he was learning to live, not to himself, but to his master--to do his will and make known his name, and in all things to honour him in the eyes of the world, and so he had also david's secret of peace. but for a time he had little to do, as the new firm was not publicly announced till later in the year, and in the meantime he accepted mrs inglis's invitation, and made himself one of the children of the bridge house, to his great pleasure and theirs. chapter seventeen. one morning as mr philip sat at breakfast reading the paper, as was his custom, he heard mr caldwell say-- "this is the twenty-second of september." "the days and nights are of equal length," said mrs caldwell. "dear! dear! how soon the days will be drawing in!" "this day last year miss bethia barnes died." "well, she was a good body. i trust she went to a better place." "and to-day her will is to be read," went on mr caldwell. "is it indeed? had she much property? she was a decent saving body. and who is to get it? not that you can know, however, till the will is opened." "i know, having been consulted about the making of it; but that is neither here nor there at the present moment. what i mean to say is this: being one of the executors of that will, i shall have to be in mr bethune's office this morning, and so, mr philip, you will need to attend to the business we were speaking of last night yourself, in case i should be detained beyond my time." "all right!" said philip, looking up from his paper. "and you were consulted about the making of the poor body's will, were you?" said mrs caldwell, who was by no means so silent a member of the family as her husband. "and you were made executor, and all--and you never mentioned it. not that _that_ is a matter for surprise, however," added she, reconsidering the subject. "i dare say he will be ready to tell us all about it by dinner time, though no mortal power could make him open his lips this morning. well, i hope whoever gets the money will get the good of it, though why they should have been kept out of it a whole year, i cannot see. i hope that was not by your advice. but dear! dear! money often does more harm than good, for all so hard as we strive for it." "it will do good this time--there is no fear," said mr caldwell, rising. "it has not been striven for, nor expected, and there is not too much of it just for comfort, and--it will open the way." the last words struck philip as familiar, and looking up he caught the eye of mr caldwell, who nodded and smiled, as though he ought to understand the whole matter by this time. "there need be no more waiting now," said he, but whether he meant for himself or for mr philip, or for some one else, he did not say. "all right!" said philip, at a venture; and though he heard no more of the matter, and was too busy all day to give it a thought, he was not surprised, when he went, at night, to the bridge house, to hear that there was news awaiting him; but he was a little surprised at the nature of the news. it was violet who told him. the children were gone out, and david was, for the moment, in his mother's room, and only frank was with violet when philip came in. for this time she was quite free from the "proper" and "dignified" air of which jem used to accuse her where philip was concerned. she was smiling and eager when, prompted by frank, she told him there was something he would like to hear. "it is about davie, isn't it?" said philip. "davie is miss bethia's heir?" but it was not davie. davie had his father's library and the five hundred dollars which miss bethia had offered for it as well, to do what he liked with; there were some legacies to relatives, "to remember her by," miss bethia had written, and there was something to debby stone. but the house and garden in gourlay, and all else that had been miss bethia's, she had bequeathed unconditionally to mrs inglis. it was not a large property, but it was a good deal more than miss bethia could have been supposed to possess, considering her way of life. it was not quite independence to mrs inglis and her children, but it would be a great help toward it. "and," said violet, with a smile and a sigh, "it opens the way to davie." "yes; that is what mr caldwell said this morning. but you don't seem so delighted as he was at the thought." "i am very glad for davie. but it will be a sad breaking-up for the rest of us to have him go away. and it will be at once, i suppose, if, at this late day, arrangements can be made for his going this year to the university." "but the sooner the better, i should think, violet," said frank, cheerfully. "yes--the sooner the better for him; but think of mamma and the rest of us. however, i know it is very foolish to look at that side of the matter, and, indeed, i am very glad." "and, besides, if you go to m-- you will see him often," said frank. "we shall be rather dismal without you both, i am afraid." "dismal enough!" echoed mr philip. "and if you all go to gourlay to live, as miss bethia seemed to think you would, what will become of us?" "what, indeed!" said philip. "that is the plan, is it? it is cruel of aunt mary, and i shall tell her so." "we have made no plans as yet. i hope it will be all for the best. we have been very happy here. it could not have lasted much longer for davie. he is very glad, and so is mamma; and, i suppose, we shall all be glad, when we have time to think about it." philip was not so sure of that, nor frank either, as far as their going away to gourlay was concerned. but mamma was glad and davie. there was no doubt of that, philip saw, as soon as they appeared. they were rather silent for a time, and philip saw, what he had never seen before in all his intercourse with her, the traces of tears on mrs inglis's face. he was not sure that there was not the shine of tears in david's eyes too. his congratulations were given very quietly, and as quietly received. "but i am afraid it is the beginning of bad days to us, aunt mary, if we have to say good-bye to you all." "it would be bad days for us, too, if that were to happen; but i hope nothing so sad as that is to follow our good fortune." "good-bye!" exclaimed frank. "that is the last thing we shall think of, aunt mary. but, i suppose, we shall lose davie for awhile. eh, davie?" "i shall be away for awhile, if you call that losing me; but i shall be home soon, and often." "it happened just at the right time, didn't it?" said ned. "just as davie is ready to go to college." "davie has been ready for that any time these three years; and what i wonder is, that mamma did not hear of this at once," said jem. "this is the right time, i think," said mrs inglis. "i am very glad it did not happen this time last year," said philip. "why?" said violet. "i will tell you another time," said philip. "after all, mamma, money is a very good thing to have," said ned, after there had been more discussion of miss bethia's will, and all that was to be done in consequence of it. "a very good thing, in certain circumstances." "but, mamma, you have always spoken as if it did not matter whether we had money or not--much money, i mean. and now see how pleased everybody is because miss bethia gave her's to you. i don't think anything ever happened before that pleased every one of us so well." "i cannot say that for myself," said his mother. "and there is not _much_ money of it," said frank. "and everybody is glad because of davie," said jessie. "i think miss bethia meant it for davie to go to college and be a minister like papa, and that is why mamma is so glad, and all of us." "nonsense! miss bethia meant it for mamma and all of us. she would have said it was for davie, if she had meant it for him. do you think miss bethia meant it for you, davie? do you, mamma?" said ned, as he saw a smile exchanged between them. "she meant it for mamma, of course," said david. "davie," said his mother, "read miss bethia's letter to philip and the children." david looked at his mother, and round on the rest, then back again to his mother, a little surprise and hesitation showing in his face. "do you think so, mamma?" said he, colouring. "they will like to hear it, and i shall like them to hear it. shall i read it for you?" said his mother, smiling. david rose and went into his mother's room, and came back with the letter in his hand. giving it to her without a word, he sat down in a corner where the light could not fall on his face. mrs inglis opened the letter and read: "dear david inglis,--it is a solemn thing to sit down and write a letter which is not to be opened till the hand that holds the pen is cold in death; and so i feel at this time. but i want you to know all about it, and i must put it in as few words as possible. i will begin at the beginning. "i never had much hope of your father after that first hard cold he took about the time that timothy bent died. i worried about him all winter, for i couldn't make it seem right that his life and usefulness should be broken off short, just when it seemed he had got ready to do the most good. i would have put it right, in my way, if i could have done it. but it was not the lord's way, and i had to give it up. it never was easy for me to give up my own way, even to the lord. but he is long-suffering and slow to anger; and by and by he showed me how i might help make up your father's loss to the church and the world. "but i wasn't in any hurry about it, because i didn't know just how it would be with you, and whether you would keep your armour bright, and stand in the day of trial. so i waited, and went to singleton, and talked with mr caldwell, and came home feeling pretty well; and all the more when i heard from your mother how she and you felt about your taking up your father's work. still i was not in any hurry, for i thought you were not losing your time. you seemed to be learning, what many a minister gets into trouble for not knowing, how business is done, and how far a little money may be made to go. and i thought, if it were just a notion of yours to be a minister, because you had thought so much of your father, and to please your mother, you would find it out pretty soon, and get into other business. but i knew, if the lord had called you to the work, you wouldn't be tired waiting, and you weren't losing time. "well, i have thought of it, and planned for it considerable, one way and another; and, lately, i have begun to think that i shall not have much more time for planning or doing either. this summer, i have seemed to see my way clear. there are not many women in the world like your mother, i can tell you, david; and she will know how to go to work better than i can tell her. so i have made up my mind to leave what i have got to her. the time you have been working to keep the family together has not been lost, so far. but, when your mother don't need you, you will be free to help yourself. i thought first i would leave you money enough to take you through college, and all that; but, as far as i have had a chance to judge, those who have had to work hard to get an education, have come out best in the end. your mother will know what to do, as one thing follows another in your life, better than i could put it down on paper. she'll help you all you need, i am not afraid; and if the lord shouldn't have called you to his work after all, i would rather your mother had the property i have worked for than that you should have it to put into other business. i hope it will come all round right in the end. "there is a good deal more i wanted to say to you, but i don't seem to know just how to put it down on paper as i want to, so i shall not try. when you read this, i shall be where your father is; and i pray the lord to lead you in the way you should go, and make you a faithful minister of his word, as he was. amen." there was nothing said for several minutes, after she had ceased reading; then she only said: "and so, now, children, you see what it was that our old friend wished." "mr caldwell must have known it all along," said philip. "well, he told me there was not much chance of davie's accepting my offer. i should think not!" "are you sorry?" asked violet. "i am not sure. i must think about it." "i sha'n't seem to care so much about being a rich man now," said jem, "since davie is provided for." "there are plenty more of us, jem," said ned. "and mamma, too," went on jem dolefully. "if miss bethia had given it all to davie, i might have done for mamma." they all laughed at jem's trouble, and they grew eager and a little noisy and foolish after that, laughing and making impossible plans, as though miss bethia's money had been countless. david said nothing, and mrs inglis said little, and the confusion did not last long, for, beneath all their lightness, there was among the children a deeper and graver feeling than they wished to show, and they grew quiet in a little while. there were no plans made that night, however; but, by degrees, it was made plain to mrs inglis what it was best for them to do. david went almost immediately to m--, and was admitted into the university, passing the examinations for the second year; and violet went back to her place in mrs lancaster's school. mrs inglis decided to remain in singleton for the winter, partly for jem's sake, and partly that ned might still have the benefit of school. frank was also to be with them. mr oswald was not to be in singleton constantly, and miss oswald was to remain at her own home all winter, and the little girls were to remain with her. so frank took david's place, though he did not quite fill it, and mr philip came and went almost as often as when the others were at home. his visits were for the pleasure of all, and for his own profit; and when the time came that they were to say "good-bye" for a little while, it was spoken by mrs inglis with feelings far different from those she would have had a year ago; for she knew that the discipline of changed circumstances, of care, and of hard work that had fallen upon him, had strengthened him in many ways; and, better still, she could not but hope that the influence and teaching to which he had so willingly submitted during the last year and more, had wrought in him for good, and that now he was being taught by him who teacheth to profit, and guided by him in the right way. jem had an opportunity to play at being "head of the house" for once; and it was, by no means, all play, for the care and responsibility of acting for his mother in all that pertained to making necessary arrangements, to the disposal of such things as they did not care to take with them, and to the removal of such things as they wished to keep, fell on him. he did his work well and cheerfully, though with a little unnecessary energy, and he would gladly have staid to settle them all in gourlay. but he was needed for his legitimate work; and amid much cause for gratitude, mrs inglis had this cause for anxiety, that jem must henceforth be removed from the constant happy influence of home life, and left to prove the strength and worth of his principles among strangers. if he had been more afraid for himself, it is likely his mother would have been less afraid for him. but there was no help for it. it is the mother's "common lot." "the young birds cannot always stay in the parent nest, mother, dear," said jem; "and i must go as the rest do. but i shall come home for a week in the summer, if it be a possible thing; and, in the meantime, i am not going to forget my mother, i hope." "nor your mother's god, i trust, dear jem," said mrs inglis, as she let him go. who could tell all the labour and pains bestowed on the arrangement and adornment of the house they had never ceased to love? david came home early in may, and did his part. ten times a day jessie wished for violet to help with her willing and skillful hands. they had debby for all that required strength. she had fallen very easily into her old place, and was to stay in it, everybody hoped. sarah and charlotte oswald were to form part of their family for the next year, and violet's work was to be to teach them and her sisters, and two little orphan girls who had been committed by their guardian to mrs inglis's care. but violet's work was not to be begun till september, and after the house was in perfect order, ready to receive expected visitors, there were two months for happy leisure before that time came. violet and jem were coming home together, and sarah and charlotte were expected at the same time. jem was to stay for ten days only. by dint of some planning on their part, and much kindness on the part of mr caldwell, philip and frank were to have their holiday together, and they were to accompany the rest to gourlay. at first it was intended to make their coming a surprise, but mindful of certain possible contingencies in debby's department, violet overruled this, and the people at home were permitted to have the pleasure of expecting and preparing for them, as well as the pleasure of receiving them, and wonderful things were accomplished to that end. the last night had come. the children had gone away to the woods to get some sprigs from a beautiful vine, without which jessie did not consider her floral decorations perfect, and mrs inglis and david were awaiting them alone. they were in the garden, which was a very pretty place, and never prettier than on that evening, david thought. ned's gardening was a great improvement on his of the old days, he willingly acknowledged. indeed, since their coming back to gourlay, ned had given himself to the arranging and keeping of the garden, in a way that proved the possession of true artistic taste, and also of that which is as rare, and as necessary to success in gardening and in other things--great perseverance. his success was wonderful, and all the more so that for the last few years the flower-garden, at least, had been allowed to take its own way as to growing and blossoming, and bade fair when they came to be a thicket of balsam, peonies, hollyhocks, and other hardy village favourites. but ned saw great possibilities of beauty in it, compared with the three-cornered morsel that had been the source of so much enjoyment in singleton, and having taken philip into his confidence, there came from time to time seeds, roots, plants and cuttings to his heart's content. he had determined to have the whole in perfect order by the time of the coming of violet and the rest, and by dint of constant labour on his part, and the little help he got from david or any one else who could be coaxed into his service for the time, he had succeeded wonderfully, considering all things. it was perfect in neatness, and it was rich in flowers that had never opened under a gourlay sun till now. it was to be a surprise to violet and jem, and looking at it with their eyes, david exclaimed again and again in admiration of its order and beauty. "but they won't see it to-night, unless they come soon," said he. "however, it will look all the better with the morning sun upon it. does it seem like home to you, mamma?--the old home?" "yes--with a difference," said his mother. "ah, yes! but you are glad to be here, mamma? you would rather have your home in gourlay than anywhere else?" "yes, i am glad our home is here. god has been very good to us, davie." "mamma, it is wonderful! if our choice had been given us, we could not have desired anything different." his mother smiled. "god's way is best, and this will seem more like home than any other place could seem to those who must go away. i cannot expect to keep my children always." "any place would be home to us where you were, mamma. but i am glad you are here--and you don't grudge us to our work in the world?" "no, truly. that would be worse than ungrateful. may god give you all his work to do, and a will and strength to do it!" "and you will have the children a long time yet; and violet--" david hesitated and looked at his mother with momentary embarrassment. "only mamma," added he, "i am afraid philip wants violet." mrs inglis started. "has he told you so, davie?" said she, anxiously. "no--not quite--not exactly. but i think--i know you wouldn't be grieved, mamma? philip is just what you would like him to be now. philip is a true christian gentleman. i expect great things from philip. and mamma, you can never surely mean that you are surprised." "not altogether surprised, perhaps. but--we will not speak of it, davie, until--" "until philip does. well, i don't think that will be very long. but, mamma, i cannot bear that you should be unhappy because of this." "unhappy? no, not unhappy! but--i could never make you understand. we will not speak about it." they went on in silence along the walk till they came to the garden gate, and there they lingered for a while. "mamma," said david, "do you remember one night, a very stormy night, when you and i watched for papa's coming home? i don't know why i should always think of that night more than of many others, unless it was almost the last time he ventured forth to meet the storm. i think you were afraid even then, mamma?" "i remember. yes, i was afraid." david stood silent beside her. the voices of the children on their homeward way came through the stillness. in a minute they could see them, moving in and out among the long shadows, which the last gleam of sunshine made, their hands and laps filled with flowers and trailing green--a very pretty picture. the mother stood watching them in silence till they drew near. then the face she turned to david was bright with both smiles and tears. "david," she said, "when i remember your father's life and death, and how gently we have been dealt with since then, how wisely guided, how strongly guarded, and how the way has opened before us, my heart fills full and my lips would fain sing praises. i do not think there can come into my life anything to make me afraid any more." david's answer was in words not his own: "thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee." the end. none e-text donated by the kempton project, submitted by william rotella heaven and its wonders and hell from things heard and seen by emanuel swedenborg. translated by john ager. . the lord, speaking in the presence of his disciples of the consummation of the age, which is the final period of the church,{ } says, near the end of what he foretells about its successive states in respect to love and faith:{ } immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken. and then shall appear the sign of the son of man in heaven; and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn; and they shall see the son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. and he shall send forth his angels with a trumpet and a great sound; and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from the end to end of the heavens (matt. : - ). those who understood these words according to the sense of the letter have no other belief than that during that latest period, which is called the final judgment, all these things are to come to pass just as they are described in the literal sense, that is, that the sun and moon will be darkened and the stars will fall from the sky, that the sign of the lord will appear in the sky, and he himself will be seen in the clouds, attended by angels with trumpets; and furthermore, as is foretold else where, that the whole visible universe will be destroyed, and afterwards a new heaven with a new earth will come into being. such is the opinion of most men in the church at the present day. but those who so believe are ignorant of the arcana that lie hid in every particular of the word. for in every particular of the word there is an internal sense which treats of things spiritual and heavenly, not of things natural and worldly, such as are treated of in the sense of the letter. and this is true not only of the meaning of groups of words, it is true of each particular word.{ } for the word is written solely by correspondences,{ } to the end that there may be an internal sense in every least particular of it. what that sense is can be seen from all that has been said and shown about it in the arcana coelestia; also from quotations gathered from that work in the explanation of the white horse spoken of in the apocalypse. it is according to that sense that what the lord says in the passage quoted above respecting his coming in the clouds of heaven is to be understood. the "sun" there that is to be darkened signifies the lord in respect to love;{ } the "moon" the lord in respect to faith;{ } "stars" knowledges of good and truth, or of love and faith;{ } "the sign of the son of man in heaven" the manifestation of divine truth; "the tribes of the earth" that shall mourn, all things relating to truth and good or to faith and love;{ } "the coming of the lord in the clouds of heaven with power and glory" his presence in the word, and revelation,{ } "clouds" signifying the sense of the letter of the word,{ } and "glory" the internal sense of the word;{ } "the angels with a trumpet and great voice" signify heaven as a source of divine truth.{ } all this makes clear that these words of the lord mean that at the end of the church, when there is no longer any love, and consequently no faith, the lord will open the internal meaning of the word and reveal arcana of heaven. the arcana revealed in the following pages relate to heaven and hell, and also to the life of man after death. the man of the church at this date knows scarcely anything about heaven and hell or about his life after death, although all these matters are set forth and described in the word; and yet many of those born within the church refuse to believe in them, saying in their hearts, "who has come from that world and told us?" lest, therefore, such a spirit of denial, which especially prevails with those who have much worldly wisdom, should also infect and corrupt the simple in heart and the simple in faith, it has been granted me to associate with angels and to talk with them as man with man, also to see what is in the heavens and what is in the hells, and this for thirteen years; so now from what i have seen and heard it has been granted me to describe these, in the hope that ignorance may thus be enlightened and unbelief dissipated. such immediate revelation is granted at this day because this is what is meant by the coming of the lord. [references to the author's arcana coelestia.] {footnote } the consummation of the age is the final period of the church (n. , ). {footnote } the lord's predictions in matthew ( and ), respecting the consummation of the age and his coming, and the consequent successive vastation of the church and the final judgment, are explained in the prefaces to chapters - of genesis (n. - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - ). {footnote } both in the wholes and in the particulars of the word there is an internal or spiritual sense (n. , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } the word is written solely by correspondences, and for this reason each thing and all things in it have a spiritual meaning (n. , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } in the word the "sun" signifies the lord in respect to love, and in consequence love to the lord (n. , , , , , , , ). {footnote } in the word the "moon" signifies the lord in respect to faith, and in consequence faith in the lord (n. , , , , , ). {footnote } in the word "stars" signify knowledges of good and truth (n. , , ). {footnote } "tribes" signify all truths and goods in the complex, thus all things of faith and love (n. , , , ). {footnote } the coming of the lord signifies his presence in the word, and revelation (n , ). {footnote } in the word clouds signify the word in the letter or the sense of its letter (n. , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } in the word "glory" signifies divine truth as it is in heaven and as it is in the internal sense of the word (n. , , , , , ). {footnote } a "trumpet" or "horn" signifies divine truth in heaven, and revealed from heaven (n. , , ); and "voice" has a like signification (n. , ). . i. the god of heaven is the lord first of all it must be known who the god of heaven is, since upon that all the other things depend. throughout all heaven no other than the lord alone is acknowledged as the god of heaven. there it is said, as he himself taught, that he is one with the father; that the father is in him, and he in the father; that he who sees him sees the father; and that everything that is holy goes forth from him (john : , ; : - ; : - ). i have often talked with angels on this subject, and they have invariably declared that in heaven they are unable to divide the divine into three, because they know and perceive that the divine is one and this one is in the lord. they also said that those of the church who come from this world having an idea of three divine beings cannot be admitted into heaven, since their thought wanders from one divine being to another; and it is not allowable there to think three and say one.{ } because in heaven everyone speaks from his thought, since speech there is the immediate product of the thought, or the thought speaking. consequently, those in this world who have divided the divine into three, and have adopted a different idea of each, and have not made that idea one and centered it in the lord, cannot be received into heaven, because in heaven there is a sharing of all thoughts, and therefore if any one came thinking three and saying one, he would be at once found out and rejected. but let it be known that all those who have not separated what is true from what is good, or faith from love, accept in the other life, when they have been taught, the heavenly idea of the lord, that he is the god of the universe. it is otherwise with those who have separated faith from life, that is, who have not lived according to the precepts of true faith. {footnote } christians were examined in the other life in regard to their idea of the one god and it was found that they held the idea of three gods (n. , , , , ). a divine trinity in the lord is acknowledged in heaven (n. , , , , , ). . those within the church who have denied the lord and have acknowledged the father only, and have confirmed themselves in that belief, are not in heaven; and as they are unable to receive any influx from heaven, where the lord alone is worshiped, they gradually lose the ability to think what is true about any subject whatever; and finally they become as if dumb, or they talk stupidly, and ramble about with their arms dangling and swinging as if weak in the joints. again, those who, like the socinians, have denied the divinity of the lord and have acknowledged his humanity only, are likewise outside of heaven; they are brought forward a little towards the right and are let down into the deep, and are thus wholly separated from the rest that come from the christian world. finally, those who profess to believe in an invisible divine, which they call the soul of the universe [ens universi], from which all things originated, and who reject all belief in the lord, find out that they believe in no god; since this invisible divine is to them a property of nature in her first principles, which cannot be an object of faith and love, because it is not an object of thought.{ } such have their lot among those called naturalists. it is otherwise with those born outside the church, who are called the heathen; these will be treated of hereafter. {footnote } a divine that cannot be perceived by any idea cannot be received by faith (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). . infants, who form a third part of heaven, are all initiated into the acknowledgment and belief that the lord is their father, and afterwards that he is the lord of all, thus the god of heaven and earth. that children grow up in heaven and are perfected by means of knowledges, even to angelic intelligence and wisdom, will be seen in the following pages. . those who are of the church cannot doubt that the lord is the god of heaven, for he himself taught, that all things of the father are his (matt. : ; john : ; : ). and that he hath all power in heaven and on earth (matt. : ). he says "in heaven and on earth," because he that rules heaven rules the earth also, for the one depends upon the other.{ } "ruling heaven and earth" means to receive from the lord every good pertaining to love and every truth pertaining to faith, thus all intelligence and wisdom, and in consequence all happiness, in a word, eternal life. this also the lord taught when he said: he that believeth on the son hath eternal life; but he that believeth not the son shall not see life (john : ). again: i am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth on me, though he die yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth on me shall never die (john : , ). and again: i am the way, the truth, and the life (john : ). {footnote } the entire heaven is the lord's (n. , ). he has all power in the heavens and on the earths (n. , , ). as the lord rules heaven he rules also all things that depend thereon, thus all things in the world (n. , , , ). the lord alone has power to remove the hells, to withhold from evil and hold in good, and thus to save (n. ). . there were certain spirits who while living in the world had professed to believe in the father; but of the lord they had the same idea as of any other man, and therefore did not believe him to be the god of heaven. for this reason they were permitted to wander about and inquire wherever they wished whether there were any other heaven than the heaven of the lord. they searched for several days, but nowhere found any. these were such as place the happiness of heaven in glory and dominion; and as they were unable to get what they desired, and were told that heaven does not consist in such things, they became indignant, and wished for a heaven where they could lord it over others and be eminent in glory like that in the world. . ii. it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven. the angels taken collectively are called heaven, for they constitute heaven; and yet that which makes heaven in general and in particular is the divine that goes forth from the lord and flows into the angels and is received by them. and as the divine that goes forth from the lord is the good of love and the truth of faith, the angels are angels and are heaven in the measure in which they receive good and truth from the lord. . everyone in the heavens knows and believes and even perceives that he wills and does nothing of good from himself, and that he thinks and believes nothing of truth from himself, but only from the divine, thus from the lord; also that good from himself is not good, and truth from himself is not truth, because these have in them no life from the divine. moreover, the angels of the inmost heaven clearly perceive and feel the influx, and the more of it they receive the more they seem to themselves to be in heaven, because the more are they in love and faith and in the light of intelligence and wisdom, and in heavenly joy therefrom; and since all these go forth from the divine of the lord, and in these the angels have their heaven, it is clear that it is the divine of the lord, and not the angels from anything properly their own that makes heaven.{ } this is why heaven is called in the word the "dwelling-place" of the lord and "his throne," and those who are there are said to be in the lord.{ } but in what manner the divine goes forth from the lord and fills heaven will be told in what follows. {footnote } the angels of heaven acknowledge all good to be from the lord, and nothing from themselves, and the lord dwells in them in his own and not in their own (n. , , , ). therefore in the word by "angels" something of the lord is meant (n. , , , , , ). furthermore, angels are called "gods" from the reception of the divine from the lord (n. , , , , , ). again, all good that is good, and all truth that is truth, consequently all peace, love, charity, and faith, are from the lord (n. , , , , , , , ). also all wisdom and intelligence (n. , , , ). {footnote } those who are in heaven are said to be in the lord (n. , ). . angels from their wisdom go still further. they say that not only everything good and true is from the lord, but everything of life as well. they confirm it by this, that nothing can spring from itself, but only from something prior to itself; therefore all things spring from a first, which they call the very being [esse] of the life of all things. and in like manner all things continue to exist, for continuous existence is a ceaseless springing forth, and whatever is not continually held by means of intermediates in connection with the first instantly disperses and is wholly dissipated. they say also that there is but one fountain of life, and that man's life is a rivulet therefrom, which if it did not unceasingly continue from its fountain would immediately flow away. [ ] again, they say that from this one fountain of life, which is the lord, nothing goes forth except divine good and divine truth, and that each one is affected by these in accordance with his reception of them, those who receive them in faith and life find heaven in them while those who reject them or stifle them change them into hell; for they change good into evil and truth into falsity, thus life into death. again, that everything of life is from the lord they confirm by this: that all things in the universe have relation to good and truth,-the life of man's will, which is the life of his love, to good; and the life of his understanding, which is the life of his faith, to truth; and since everything good and true comes from above it follows that everything of life must come from above. [ ] this being the belief of the angels they refuse all thanks for the good they do, and are displeased and withdraw if any one attributes good to them. they wonder how any one can believe that he is wise from himself or does anything good from himself. doing good for one's own sake they do not call good, because it is done from self. but doing good for the sake of good they call good from the divine; and this they say is the good that makes heaven, because this good is the lord.{ } {footnote } good from the lord has the lord inwardly in it, but good from one's own has not (n. , , ). . such spirits as have confirmed themselves during their life in the world in the belief that the good they do and the truth they believe is from themselves, or is appropriated to them as their own (which is the belief of all who place merit in good actions and claim righteousness to themselves) are not received into heaven. angels avoid them. they look upon them as stupid and as thieves; as stupid because they continually have themselves in view and not the divine; and as thieves because they steal from the lord what is his. these are averse to the belief of heaven, that it is the divine of the lord in the angels that makes heaven. . the lord teaches that those that are in heaven and in the church are in the lord and the lord is in them, when he says: abide in me and i in you. as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine, so neither can ye, except ye abide in me. i am the vine, ye are the branches. he that abideth in me and i in him, the same beareth much fruit; for apart from me ye can do nothing (john : , ). . from all this it can now be seen that the lord dwells in the angels of heaven in what is his own, and thus that the lord is the all in all things of heaven; and this for the reason that good from the lord is the lord in angels, for what is from the lord is the lord; consequently heaven to the angels is good from the lord, and not anything of their own. . iii. in heaven the divine of the lord is love to him and charity towards the neighbor. the divine that goes forth from the lord is called in heaven divine truth, for a reason that will presently appear. this divine truth flows into heaven from the lord from his divine love. the divine love and the divine truth therefrom are related to each other as the fire of the sun and the light therefrom in the world, love resembling the fire of the sun and truth therefrom light from the sun. moreover, by correspondence fire signifies love, and light truth going forth from love.{ } from this it is clear what the divine truth that goes forth from the lord's divine love is-that in its essence it is divine good joined to divine truth, and being so conjoined it vivifies all things of heaven; just as in the world when the sun's heat is joined to light it makes all things of the earth fruitful, which takes place in spring and summer. it is otherwise when the heat is not joined with the light, that is, when the light is cold; then all things become torpid and lie dead. with the angels this divine good, which is compared to heat, is the good of love; and divine truth, which is compared to light, is that through which and out of which good of love comes. {footnote } in the word "fire" signifies heavenly love and infernal love (n. , , ). "holy and heavenly fire" signifies divine love, and every affection that belongs to that love (n. , , ). "light" from fire signifies truth going forth from good of love; and light in heaven signifies divine truth (n. , , , , , , , , , ). . the divine in heaven which makes heaven is love, because love is spiritual conjunction. it conjoins angels to the lord and conjoins them to one another, so conjoining them that in the lord's sight they are all as one. moreover, love is the very being [esse] of everyone's life; consequently from love both angels and men have life. everyone who reflects can know that the inmost vitality of man is from love, since he grows warm from the presence of love and cold from its absence, and when deprived of it he dies.{ } but it is to be remembered that the quality of his love is what determines the quality of each one's life. {footnote } love is the fire of life, and life itself is actually therefrom (n. , , , ). . in heaven there are two distinct loves, love to the lord and love towards the neighbor, in the inmost or third heaven love to the lord, in the second or middle heaven love towards the neighbor. they both go forth from the lord, and they both make heaven. how these two loves are distinct and how they are conjoined is seen in heaven in clear light, but in the world only obscurely. in heaven loving the lord does not mean loving him in respect to his person, but it means loving the good that is from him; and to love good is to will and do good from love; and to love the neighbor does not mean loving a companion in respect to his person, but loving the truth that is from the word; and to love truth is to will and do it. this makes clear that these two loves are distinct as good and truth are distinct, and that they are conjoined as good is conjoined with truth.{ } but this can scarcely be comprehended by men unless it is known what love is, what good is, and what the neighbor is.{ } {footnote } to love the lord and the neighbor is to live according to the lord's commandments (n. , , , , ). {footnote } to love the neighbor is not to love the person, but to love that in him from which he is what he is, that is, his truth and good (n. . ). those who love the person, and not that in him from which he is what he is, love evil and good alike (n. ). charity is willing truths and being affected by truths for the sake of truths (n. , ). charity towards the neighbor is doing what is good, just, and right, in every work and in every function (n. - ). . i have repeatedly talked with angels about this matter. they were astonished, they said, that men of the church do not know that to love the lord and to love the neighbor is to love what is good and true, and to do this from the will, when they ought to know that one evinces love by willing and doing what another wishes, and it is this that brings reciprocal love and conjunction, and not loving another without doing what he wishes, which in itself is not loving; also that men should know that the good that goes forth from the lord is a likeness of him, since he is in it; and that those who make good and truth to belong to their life by willing them and doing them become likenesses of the lord and are conjoined to him. willing is loving to do. that this is so the lord teaches in the word, saying, he that hath my commandments and doeth them, he it is that loveth me; and i will love him and will make my abode with him (john : , ). and again: if ye do my commandments ye shall abide in my love (john : ). . all experience in heaven attests that the divine that goes forth from the lord and that affects angels and makes heaven is love; for all who are in heaven are forms of love and charity, and appear in ineffable beauty, with love shining forth from their faces, and from their speech and from every particular of their life.{ } moreover, there are spiritual spheres of life emanating from and surrounding every angel and every spirit, by which their quality in respect to the affections of their love is known, sometimes at a great distance. for with everyone these spheres flow forth from the life of his affection and consequent thought, or from the life of his love and consequent faith. the spheres that go forth from angels are so full of love as to affect the inmosts of life of those who are with them. they have repeatedly been perceived by me and have thus affected me.{ } that it is love from which angels have their life is further evident from the fact that in the other life everyone turns himself in accordance with his love-those who are in love to the lord and in love towards the neighbor turning themselves always to the lord, while those who are in love of self turn themselves always away from the lord. this is so, however their bodies may turn, since with those in the other life spaces conform to the states of their interiors, likewise quarters, which are not constant as they are in this world, but are determined in accordance with the direction of their faces. and yet it is not the angels that turn themselves to the lord; but the lord turns to himself those that love to do the things that are from him.{ } but more on this subject hereafter, where the quarters in the other life are treated of. {footnote } angels are forms of love and charity (n. , , , , , , , ). {footnote } a spiritual sphere, which is a sphere of the life, overflows and pours forth from every man, spirit, and angel, and encompasses them (n. , , , ). it flows from the life of their affection and consequent thought (n. , , ). {footnote } spirits and angels turn themselves constantly to their loves, and those in the heavens turn themselves constantly to the lord (n. , , , ). quarters in the other life are to each one in accordance with the direction of his face, and are thereby determined, otherwise than in the world (n. , , , ). . the divine of the lord in heaven is love, for the reason that love is receptive of all things of heaven, such as peace, intelligence, wisdom and happiness. for love is receptive of each and all things that are in harmony with it; it longs for them, seeks them, and drinks them in as it were spontaneously, for it desires unceasingly to be enriched and perfected by them.{ } this, too, man well knows, for with him love searches as it were the stores of his memory and draws forth all things that are in accord with itself, collecting and arranging them in and under itself-in itself that they may be its own, and under itself that they may be its servants; but other things not in accord with it it discards and expels. that there is present in love every capacity for receiving truths in harmony with itself, and a longing to conjoin them to itself, has been made clear also by the fact that some who were simple-minded in the world were taken up into heaven, and yet when they were with the angels they came into angelic wisdom and heavenly blessedness, and for the reason that they had loved what is good and true for its own sake, and had implanted it in their life, and had thereby become capacities for receiving heaven with all that is ineffable there. but those who are in love of self and of the world have no capacity for receiving what is good and true; they loathe and reject it, and at its first touch and entrance they flee and associate themselves with those in hell who are in loves like their own. there were spirits who had doubts about there being such capacities in heavenly love, and who wished to know whether it were true; whereupon they were let into a state of heavenly love, whatever opposed being for the time removed, and were brought forward some distance, where there was an angelic heaven, and from it they talked with me, saying that they perceived a more interior happiness than they could possibly express in words, and they lamented greatly that they must return into their former state. others also were taken up into heaven; and the higher or more interiorly they were exalted the more of intelligence and wisdom were they admitted into, such as enabled them to perceive what had before been incomprehensible to them. from this it is clear that the love that goes forth from the lord is receptive of heaven and all things therein. {footnote } innumerable things are contained in love, and love gathers to itself all things that are in harmony with it (n. , , , , , , ). . that love to the lord and love towards the neighbor include in themselves all divine truths is made evident by what the lord himself said of these two loves: thou shalt love thy god with all thy heart and with all thy soul. this is the greatest and first commandment. and the second, like unto it, is, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. on these two commandments hang the law and the prophets (matt. : - ). "the law and the prophets" are the whole word, thus all divine truth. . iv. heaven is divided into two kingdoms. as there are infinite varieties in heaven, and no one society nor any one angel is exactly like any other,{ } there are in heaven general, specific, and particular divisions. the general division is into two kingdoms, the specific into three heavens, and the particular into innumerable societies. each of these will be treated of in what follows. the general division is said to be into kingdoms, because heaven is called "the kingdom of god." {footnote } there is infinite variety, and nowhere any thing the same as another (n. , ). also in the heavens there is infinite variety (n. , , , , ). varieties in heaven are varieties of good (n. , , , , , ). all societies in the heavens, and all angels in a society, are thereby distinguished from each other (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). nevertheless they are all made one by love from the lord (n. , ). . there are angels that receive more interiorly the divine that goes forth from the lord, and others that receive it less interiorly; the former are called celestial angels, and the latter spiritual angels. because of this difference heaven is divided into two kingdoms, one called the celestial kingdom, the other the spiritual kingdom.{ } {footnote } heaven as a whole is divided into two kingdoms, a celestial kingdom and a spiritual kingdom (n. , ). the angels of the celestial kingdom receive the divine of the lord in their voluntary part, thus more interiorly than the spiritual angels, who receive it in their intellectual part (n. , , , , , ). . as the angels that constitute the celestial kingdom receive the divine of the lord more interiorly they are called interior and also higher angels; and for the same reason the heavens that they constitute are called interior and higher heavens.{ } they are called higher and lower, because these terms designate what is interior and what is exterior.{ } {footnote } the heavens that constitute the celestial kingdom are called higher while those that constitute the spiritual kingdom are called lower (n. ). {footnote } interior things are portrayed by higher things, and higher things signify interior things (n. , , , , ). . the love in which those are, who are in the celestial kingdom is called celestial love, and the love in which those are who are in the spiritual kingdom is called spiritual love. celestial love is love to the lord, and spiritual love is love towards the neighbor. and as all good pertains to love (for good to any one is what he loves) the good also of the other kingdom is called celestial, and the good of the other spiritual. evidently, then, the two kingdoms are distinguished from each other in the same way as good of love to the lord is distinguished from good of love towards the neighbor.{ } and as the good of love to the lord is an interior good, and that love is interior love, so the celestial angels are interior angels, and are called higher angels. {footnote } the good of the celestial kingdom is good of love to the lord, and the good of the spiritual kingdom is good of charity towards the neighbor (n. , , , , , ). . the celestial kingdom is called also the lord's priestly kingdom, and in the word "his dwelling-place;" while the spiritual kingdom is called his royal kingdom, and in the word "his throne." and from the celestial divine the lord in the world was called "jesus," while from the spiritual divine he was called "christ." . the angels in the lord's celestial kingdom, from their more interior reception of the divine of the lord, far excel in wisdom and glory the angels that are in his spiritual kingdom; for they are in love to the lord, and consequently are nearer and more closely conjoined to him.{ } these angels are such because they have received and continue to receive divine truths at once in their life, and not first in memory and thought, as the spiritual angels do. consequently they have divine truths written in their hearts, and they perceive them, and as it were see them, in themselves; nor do they ever reason about them whether they are true or not.{ } they are such as are described in jeremiah: i will put my law in their mind, and will write it in their heart. they shall teach no more everyone his friend and everyone his brother, saying, know ye jehovah. they shall know me, from the least of them even to the greatest of them ( : , ). and they are called in isaiah: taught of jehovah ( : ). that the "taught of jehovah" are those who are taught by the lord he himself teaches in john ( : , ). {footnote } the celestial angels immeasurably surpass in wisdom the spiritual angels (n. , ). the nature of the distinction between celestial angels and spiritual angels (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } the celestial angels do not reason about truths of faith, because they perceive them in themselves; but the spiritual angels reason about them whether they are true or not (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). . it has been said that these angels have wisdom and glory above others for the reason that they have received and continue to receive divine truths at once in their life. for as soon as they hear divine truths, they will and do them, instead of storing them up in the memory and afterwards considering whether they are true. they know at once by influx from the lord whether the truth they hear is true; for the lord flows directly into man's willing, but mediately through his willing into his thinking. or what is the same, the lord flows directly into good, but mediately through good into truth.{ } that is called good which belongs to the will and action therefrom, while that is called truth that belongs to the memory and to the thought therefrom. moreover, every truth is turned into good and implanted in love as soon as it enters into the will; but so long as truth remains in the memory and in the thought therefrom it does not become good, nor does it live, nor is it appropriated to man, since man is a man from his will and understanding therefrom, and not from his understanding separated from his will.{ } {footnote } the lord's influx is into good and through good into truth, and not the reverse; thus into the will and through that into the understanding, and not the reverse (n. , , , , , ). {footnote } the will of man is the very being [esse] of his life, and the receptacle of the good of love, while his understanding is the outgo [existere] of his life therefrom, and the receptacle of the truth and good of faith (n. , , ). thus the will's life is the chief life of man, and the life of the understanding goes forth therefrom (n. , , , , , , , , ). whatever is received by the will comes to be the life, and is appropriated to man (n. , , ). man is a man from his will and his understanding therefrom (n. , , , , , ). moreover, everyone who wills and understands rightly is loved and valued by others, while he that understands rightly and does not will rightly is rejected and despised (n. , ). also, after death man remains such as his will and his understanding therefrom have been, while the things that pertain to the understanding and not also to the will then vanish, because they are not in the man (n. , , , , ). . because of this difference between the angels of the celestial kingdom and the angels of the spiritual kingdom they are not together, and have no interaction with each other. they are able to communicate only through intermediate angelic societies, which are called celestial-spiritual. through these the celestial kingdom flows into the spiritual;{ } and from this it comes to pass that although heaven is divided into two kingdoms it nevertheless makes one. the lord always provides such intermediate angels through whom there is communication and conjunction. {footnote } between the two kingdoms there is communication and conjunction by mean's of angelic societies which are called celestial-spiritual (n. , , , ). the influx of the lord through the celestial kingdom into the spiritual (n. , ). . as the angels of these two kingdoms will be fully treated of in what follows, particulars are here omitted. . v. there are three heavens. there are three heavens, entirely distinct from each other, an inmost or third, a middle or second, and an outmost or first. these have a like order and relation to each other as the highest part of man, or his head, the middle part, or body, and the lowest, or feet; or as the upper, the middle, and the lower stories of a house. in the same order is the divine that goes forth and descends from the lord; consequently heaven, from the necessity of order, is threefold. . the interiors of man, which belong to his mind and disposition, are also in like order. he has an inmost, a middle, and an outmost part; for when man was created all things of divine order were brought together in him, so that he became divine order in form, and consequently a heaven in miniature.{ } for this reason also man, as regards his interiors, has communication with the heavens and comes after death among the angels, either among those of the inmost, or of the middle, or of the outmost heaven, in accordance with his reception of divine good and truth from the lord during his life in the world. {footnote } all things of divine order are brought together in man, and by creation man is divine order in form (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). in man the internal man was formed after the image of heaven, and the external after the image of the world, and this is why man was called by the ancients a microcosm (n. , , , , , , , , ). thus man is respect to his interiors is by creation a heaven in least form after the image of the greatest; and such also man becomes when he has been created anew or regenerated by the lord (n. , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , ). . the divine that flows in from the lord and is received in the third or inmost heaven is called celestial, and in consequence the angels there are called celestial angels; the divine that flows in from the lord and is received in the second or middle heaven is called spiritual, and in consequence the angels there are called spiritual angels; while the divine that flows in from the lord and is received in the outmost or first heaven is called natural; but as the natural of that heaven is not like the natural of the world, but has the spiritual and the celestial within it, that heaven is called the spiritual-natural and the celestial-natural, and in consequence the angels there are called spiritual-natural and celestial-natural.{ } those who receive influx from the middle or second heaven, which is the spiritual heaven, are called spiritual-natural; and those who receive influx from the third or inmost heaven, which is the celestial heaven, are called celestial-natural. the spiritual-natural angels and the celestial-natural angels are distinct from each other; nevertheless they constitute one heaven, because they are in one degree. {footnote } there are three heavens, inmost, middle, and outmost, or third, second, and first (n. , ). goods therein also follow in triple order (n. , , , , ). the good of the inmost or third heaven is called celestial, the good of the middle or second is called spiritual, and the good of the outmost or first, spiritual-natural (n. , , , , , , , ). . in each heaven there is an internal and an external; those in the internal are called there internal angels, while those in the external are called external angels. the internal and the external in the heavens, or in each heaven, hold the same relation as the voluntary and intellectual in man-the internal corresponding to the voluntary, and the external to the intellectual. everything voluntary has its intellectual; one cannot exist without the other. the voluntary may be compared to a flame and the intellectual to the light therefrom. . let it be clearly understood that with the angels it is the interiors that cause them to be in one heaven or another; for as their interiors are more open to the lord they are in a more interior heaven. there are three degrees of interiors in each angel and spirit, and also in man. those in whom the third degree is opened are in the inmost heaven. those in whom the second degree is opened, or only the first, are in the middle or in the outmost heaven. the interiors are opened by reception of divine good and divine truth. those who are affected by divine truths and admit them at once into the life, thus into the will and into action therefrom, are in the inmost or third heaven, and have their place there in accordance with their reception of good from affection for truth. those who do not admit truths at once into the will but into the memory, and thence into the understanding, and from the understanding will and do them, are in the middle or second heaven. but those who live morally and who believe in a divine, and who care very little about being taught, are in the outmost or first heaven.{ } from this it is clear that the states of the interiors are what make heaven, and that heaven is within everyone, and not outside of him; as the lord teaches when he says: the kingdom of god cometh not with observation, neither shall they say, lo here, or lo there; for behold the kingdom of god ye have within you (luke : , ). {footnote } there are as many degrees of life in man as there are heavens, and these are opened after death in accordance with his life (n. , ). heaven is in man (n. ). therefore he that has received heaven into himself in the world, comes into heaven after death (n. ). . furthermore, all perfection increases towards interiors and decreases towards exteriors, since interiors are nearer to the divine, and are in themselves pure, while exteriors are more remote from the divine and are in themselves grosser.{ } intelligence, wisdom, love, everything good and the resulting happiness, are what constitute angelic perfection; but not happiness apart from these, for such happiness is external and not internal. because in the angels of the inmost heaven the interiors have been opened in the third degree their perfection immeasurably surpasses the perfection of angels in the middle heaven, whose interiors have been opened in the second degree. so the perfection of these angels exceeds in like measure the perfection of angels of the outmost heaven. {footnote } interiors are more perfect because nearer to the divine (n. , , ). in the internal there are thousands and thousands of things that appear in the external as one general thing (n. ). as far as man is raised from externals towards interiors, so far he comes into light and thus into intelligence and the elevation is like rising out of a cloud into clearness (n. , , ). . because of this distinction an angel of one heaven cannot go among the angels of another heaven, that is, no one can ascend from a lower heaven and no one can descend from a higher heaven. one ascending from a lower heaven is seized with a distress even to anguish, and is unable to see those who are there, still less to talk with them; while one descending from a higher heaven is deprived of his wisdom, stammers in his speech, and is in despair. there were some from the outmost heaven who had not yet been taught that the interiors of angels are what constitute heaven, and who believed that they might come into a higher heavenly happiness by simply gaining access to a heaven where higher angels are. these were permitted to enter among such angels. but when they were there they could see no one, however much they searched, although there was a great multitude present; for the interiors of the newcomers not having been opened in the same degree as the interiors of the angels there, their sight was not so opened. presently they were seized with such anguish of heart that they scarcely knew whether they were alive or not. therefore they hastily betook themselves to the heaven from which they came, glad to get back among their like, and pledging themselves that they would no longer covet higher things than were in agreement with their life. again, i have seen some let down from a higher heaven; and these were deprived of their wisdom until they no longer knew what their own heaven was. it is otherwise when, as is often done, angels are raised up by the lord out of a lower heaven into a higher that they may behold its glory; for then they are prepared beforehand, and are encompassed by intermediate angels, through whom they have communication with those they come among. from all this it is plain that the three heavens are entirely distinct from each other. . those, however, who are in the same heaven can affiliate with any who are there; but the delights of such affiliation are measured by the kinships of good they have come into; of which more will be said in the following chapters. . but although the heavens are so distinct that there can be no companionship between the angels of one heaven and the angels of another, still the lord joins all the heavens together by both direct and mediate influx-direct from himself into all the heavens, and mediate from one heaven into another.{ } he thus makes the three heavens to be one, and all to be in such connection from the first to the last that nothing unconnected is possible. whatever is not connected through intermediates with the first can have no permanent existence, but is dissipated and becomes nothing.{ } {footnote } influx from the lord is direct from himself and also mediate through on heaven into another, and in like manner into man's interiors (n. , , , , ). direct influx of the divine from the lord (n. , - , , ). mediate influx through the spiritual world into the natural world (n. , , , ). {footnote } all things spring from things prior to themselves, thus from a first, and in like inner subsist, because subsistence is unceasing springing forth; therefore nothing unconnected is possible (n. - , , , , , ). . only he who knows how degrees are related to divine order can comprehend how the heavens are distinct, or even what is meant by the internal and the external man. most men in the world have no other idea of what is interior and what is exterior, or of what is higher and what is lower, than as something continuous, or coherent by continuity, from purer to grosser. but the relation of what is interior to what is exterior is discrete, not continuous. degrees are of two kinds, those that are continuous and those that are not. continuous degrees are related like the degrees of the waning of a light from its bright blaze to darkness, or like the degrees of the decrease of vision from objects in the light to those in the shade, or like degrees of purity in the atmosphere from bottom to top. these degrees are determined by distance. [ ] on the other hand, degrees that are not continuous, but discrete, are distinguished like prior and posterior, like cause and effect, and like what produces and what is produced. whoever looks into the matter will see that in each thing and all things in the whole world, whatever they are, there are such degrees of producing and compounding, that is, from one a second, and from that a third, and so on. [ ] until one has acquired for himself a perception of these degrees he cannot possibly understand the differences between the heavens, nor between the interior and exterior faculties of man, nor the differences between the spiritual world and the natural world, nor between the spirit of man and his body. so neither can he understand the nature and source of correspondences and representations, or the nature of influx. sensual men do not apprehend these differences, for they make increase and decrease, even according to these degrees, to be continuous, and are therefore unable to conceive of what is spiritual otherwise than as a purer natural. and in consequence they remain outside of and a great way off from intelligence.{ } {footnote } things interior and things exterior are not continuous but distinct and discrete according to degrees, and each degree has its bounds (n. , , , , ). one thing is formed from another, and the things so formed are not continuously purer and grosser (n. , ). until the difference between what is interior and what is exterior according to such degrees is perceived, neither the internal and external man nor the interior and exterior heavens can be clearly understood (n. , , , ). . finally, a certain arcanum respecting the angels of the three heavens, which has not hitherto come into any one's mind, because degrees have not been understood, may be related. in every angel and also in every man there is an inmost or highest degree, or an inmost or highest something, into which the divine of the lord primarily or proximately flows, and from which it disposes the other interiors in him that follow in accordance with the degrees of order. this inmost or highest degree may be called the entrance of the lord to the angel or man, and his veriest dwelling-place in them. it is by virtue of this inmost or highest that a man is a man, and is distinguished from irrational animals, for these do not have it. from this it is that man, unlike the animals, is capable, in respect to all his interiors which pertain to his mind and disposition, of being raised up by the lord to himself, of believing in the lord, of being moved by love to the lord, and thereby beholding him, and of receiving intelligence and wisdom, and speaking from reason. also, it is by virtue of this that he lives to eternity. but what is arranged and provided by the lord in this inmost does not distinctly flow into the perception of any angel, because it is above his thought and transcends his wisdom. . these now are the general truths respecting the three heavens; but in what follows each heaven will be particularly treated of. . vi. the heavens consist of innumerable societies. the angels of each heaven are not together in one place, but are divided into larger and smaller societies in accordance with the differences of good of love and of faith in which they are, those who are in like good forming a single society. goods in the heavens are in infinite variety, and each angel is as it were his own good.{ } {footnote } there is infinite variety, and never any thing the same with any other (n. , ). so in the heavens there is infinite variety (n. , , , , ). varieties in the heavens, which are infinite, are varieties of good (n. , , , , , ). these varieties exist through truths, which are manifold from which is each one's good (n. , , , , ). it is because of this that all the societies in the heavens, and all angels in a society, are distinct from each other (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). nevertheless they all make one through love from the lord (n. , ). . moreover, the angelic societies in the heavens are at a distance from each other as their goods differ in general and in particular. for in the spiritual world the only ground of distance is difference in the state of interiors, thus in the heavens difference in the states of love, those who differ much being far apart, and those who differ but little being but little apart, and likeness causing them to be together.{ } {footnote } all the societies of heaven have a constant position in accordance with the differences of their state of life, thus in accordance with the differences of love and faith (n. , , ). wonderful things in the other life, that is, in the spiritual world, respecting distance, situation, place space and time (n. - ). . all who are in the same society are arranged in like manner in respect to each other; those who are more perfect, that is, who excel in good, thus in love, wisdom, and intelligence, being in the middle; those who are less pre-eminent being round about at a distance in accordance with the decrease of their perfection. the arrangement is like light diminishing from the middle to the circumference, those who are in the middle being in the greatest light, and those towards the circumference in less and less. . like are drawn spontaneously as it were to their like; for with their like they are as if with their own and at home, but with others they are as if with strangers and abroad; also when with their like they are in their freedom, and consequently in every delight of life. . all this makes clear that all in the heavens are affiliated by good, and are distinguished according to the quality of the good. nevertheless it is not the angels who thus affiliate themselves, but the lord, from whom the good is. the lord leads them, conjoins and separates them, and preserves them in freedom proportionate to their good. thus he holds everyone in the life of his love and faith, of his intelligence and wisdom, and the resulting happiness.{ } {footnote } all freedom pertains to love and affection, since what a man loves, that he does freely (n. , , , , , ). because freedom pertains to love everyone's life and delight is therefrom (n. ). nothing appears as one's own, except what is from his freedom (n. ). the veriest freedom is to be led by the lord, because one is thus led by the love of good and truth (n. , , , , - , , - ). . again, all who are in like good, even though they have never seen each other before, know each other, just as men in the world do their kinsmen, near relations, and friends; and for the reason that in the other life there are none but spiritual kinships, relationships, and friendships, thus such as spring from love and faith.{ } this it has sometimes been granted me to see, when i have been in the spirit, and thus withdrawn from the body, and in the society of angels. some of those i then saw seemed as if i had known them from childhood, but others as if not known at all. those whom i seemed to have known from childhood were such as were in a state similar to that of my spirit; but those who seemed unknown were in a dissimilar state. {footnote } all nearness, relationship, connections, and as it were ties of blood, in heaven are from good and in accordance with its agreements and differences (n. , , , , , , ). . all who form the same angelic society resemble each other in countenance in a general way, but not in particulars. how these general resemblances are related to differences in particulars can in some measure be seen from like things in the world. it is well known that with every race there is a certain general resemblance of face and eyes, by which it is known and distinguished from all other races. this is still more true of different families. in the heavens this is much more fully the case, because there all the interior affections appear in and shine forth from the face, for there the face is the external and representative form of those affections. no one there can have any other face than that of his own affection. it was also shown how this general likeness is varied in particulars with individuals in the same society. a face like an angel's appeared to me, and this was varied in accordance with such affections for good and truth as are in those who belong to a single society. these changes went on for a long time, and i noticed that the same face in general continued as a ground work, all besides being what was derived and produced from that. thus by means of this face the affections of the whole society were exhibited, whereby the faces of those in it are varied. for, as has been said above, the faces of angels are the forms of their interiors, thus of the affections that belong to their love and faith. . from this it also comes to pass that an angel who excels in wisdom instantly sees the quality of another from his face. in heaven no one can conceal his interiors by his expression, or feign, or really deceive and mislead by craft or hypocrisy. there are hypocrites who are experts in disguising their interiors and fashioning their exteriors into the form of that good in which those are who belong to a society, and who thus make themselves appear angels of light; and these sometimes insinuate themselves into a society; but they cannot stay there long, for they begin to suffer inward pain and torture, to grow livid in the face, and to become as it were lifeless. these changes arise from the contrariety of the life that flows in and affects them. therefore they quickly cast themselves down into hell where their like are, and no longer want to ascend. these are such as are meant by the man found among the invited guests at the feast not clothed with a wedding garment, who was cast out into outer darkness (matt. : , seq.). . all the societies of heaven have communication with one another, though not by open interaction; for few go out of their own society into another, since going out of their own society is like going away from themselves or from their own life, and passing into another life which is less congenial. but all the societies communicate by an extension of the sphere that goes forth from the life of each. this sphere of the life is the sphere of the affections of love and faith. this sphere extends itself far and wide into the surrounding societies, and farther and wider in proportion as the affections are the more interior and perfect.{ } in the measure of that extension do the angels have intelligence and wisdom. those that are in the inmost heaven and in the middle of it have extension into the entire heavens; thus there is a sharing of all in heaven with each one, and of each one with all.{ } but this extension will be considered more fully hereafter, where the form of heaven in accord with which the angelic societies are arranged, and also the wisdom and intelligence of angels, will be treated of, for in accordance with that form all extension of affections and thoughts proceeds. {footnote } a spiritual sphere, which is the sphere of life flows out from every man, spirit, and angel, and encompasses them (n. , , , ). it flows forth from the life of their affection and thought (n. , , ). these spheres extend themselves far into angelic societies in accordance with the quality and quantity of their good (n. - , , , ). {footnote } in the heavens a sharing of all goods is possible because heavenly love shares with another everything that is its own (n. , , , , , , ). . it has been said above that in the heavens there are larger and smaller societies. the larger consist of myriads of angels, the smaller of some thousands, and the least of some hundreds. there are also some that dwell apart, house by house as it were, and family by family. although these live in this scattered way, they are arranged in order like those who live in societies, the wiser in the middle and the more simple in the borders. such are more closely under the divine auspices of the lord, and are the best of the angels. . vii. each society is a heaven in a smaller form, and each angel in the smallest form. each society is a heaven in a smaller form, and each angel in the smallest form, because it is the good of love and of faith that makes heaven, and this good is in each society of heaven and in each angel of a society. it does not matter that this good everywhere differs and varies, it is still the good of heaven; and there is no difference except that heaven has one quality here and another there. so when any one is raised up into any society of heaven he is said to come into heaven; and those who are there are said to be in heaven, and each one in his own. this is known to all in the other life; consequently those standing outside of or beneath heaven, when they see at a distance companies of angels, say that heaven is in this or that place. it is comparatively like civil and military officers and attendants in a royal palace or castle, who, although dwelling apart in their own quarters or chambers above and below, are yet in the same palace or castle, each in his own position in the royal service. this makes evident the meaning of the lord's words, that: in his father's house are many abiding places (john : ); also what is meant by the dwelling-places of heaven, and the heavens of heavens, in the prophets. . that each society is a heaven in a smaller form can be seen from this also, that each society there has a heavenly form like that of heaven as a whole. in the whole heavens those who are superior to the rest are in the middle, with the less excellent round about in a decreasing order even to the borders (as stated in a preceding chapter, n. ). it can be seen also from this, that the lord directs all in the whole heaven as if they were a single angel; and the same is true of all in each society; and as a consequence an entire angelic society sometimes appears in angelic form like a single angel, as i have been permitted by the lord to see. moreover, when the lord appears in the midst of the angels he does not appear as one surrounded by many, but the appearance is as a one, in an angelic form. this is why the lord is called "an angel" in the word, and why an entire society is so called. "michael," "gabriel," and "raphael" are no other than angelic societies so named from their function.{ } {footnote } in the word the lord is called an angel (n. , , , ). a whole angelic society is called an angel, and michael and raphael are angelic societies, so called from their functions (n. ). the societies of heaven and the angels have no names, but are distinguished by the quality of their good, and by the idea of it (n. , ). . as an entire society is a heaven in a smaller form, so an angel is a heaven in the smallest form. for heaven is not outside of the angel, but is within him, since the interior things which belong to his mind are arranged into the form of heaven, thus for the reception of all things of heaven that are outside of him. these also he receives according to the quality of the good that is in him from the lord. it is from this that an angel is a heaven. . it can in no sense be said that heaven is outside of any one; it is within him. for it is in accordance with the heaven that is within him that each angel receives the heaven that is outside of him. this makes clear how greatly misled is he who believes that to come into heaven is simply to be taken up among angels, without regard to what one's interior life may be, thus that heaven is granted to each one by mercy apart from means;{ } when, in fact, unless heaven is within one, nothing of the heaven that is outside can flow in and be received. there are many spirits who have this idea. because of this belief they have been taken up into heaven; but when they came there, because their interior life was contrary to the angelic life, their intellectual faculties began to be blinded until they became like fools; and they began to be tortured in their voluntary faculties until they became like madmen. in a word, if those that have lived wickedly come into heaven they gasp for breath and writhe about, like fishes out of water in the air, or like animals in ether in an airpump when the air has been exhausted. from this it can be seen that heaven is not outside of a man, but within him.{ } {footnote } heaven is not granted from mercy apart from means, but in accordance with the life; yet everything of the life by which man is led to heaven by the lord belongs to mercy; this is what is meant by mercy (n. , ). if heaven were granted from mercy apart from means it would be granted to all (n. ). about some evil spirits cast down from heaven who believed that heaven was granted to everyone from mercy apart from means (n. ). {footnote } heaven is in man (n. ). . as everyone receives the heaven that is outside of him in accordance with the quality of the heaven that is within him, so in like manner does everyone receive the lord, since it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven. and for this reason when the lord becomes manifestly present in any society his appearance there is in accord with the quality of the good in which the society is, thus not the same in one society as in another. this diversity is not in the lord; it is in the angels who behold him from their own good, and thus in accordance with their good. and they are affected by his appearance in accordance with the quality of their love, those who love him inmostly being inmostly affected, and those who love him less being less affected; while the evil who are outside of heaven are tortured by his presence. when the lord is seen in any society he is seen as an angel, but is distinguished from others by the divine that shines through. . again, heaven is where the lord is acknowledged, believed in, and loved. variety in worship of the lord from the variety of good in different societies is not harmful, but beneficial, for the perfection of heaven is therefrom. this can scarcely be made clear to the comprehension without employing terms that are in common use in the learned world, and showing by means of these how unity, that it may be perfect, must be formed from variety. every whole exists from various parts, since a whole without constituents is not anything; it has no form, and therefore no quality. but when a whole exists from various parts, and the various parts are in a perfect form, in which each attaches itself like a congenial friend to another in series, then the quality is perfect. so heaven is a whole from various parts arranged in a most perfect form, for the heavenly form is the most perfect of all forms. that this is the ground of all perfection is evident from the nature of all beauty, agreeableness and delight, by which the senses and the mind are affected; for these qualities spring and flow from no other source than the concert and harmony of many concordant and congenial parts, either coexisting in order or following in order, and never from a whole without many parts. from this is the saying that variety gives delight; and the nature of variety, as is known, is what determines the delight. from all this it can be seen as in a mirror how perfection comes from variety even in heaven. for from the things that exist in the natural world the things of the spiritual world can be seen as in a mirror.{ } {footnote } every whole is from the harmony and concert of many parts. otherwise it has no quality (n. ). from this the entire heaven is a whole (n. ). and for the reason that all there have regard to one end, which is the lord (n. ). . what has been said of heaven may be said also of the church, for the church is the lord's heaven on earth. there are also many churches, each one of which is called a church, and so far as the good of love and faith reigns therein is a church. here, too, the lord out of various parts forms a unity, that is, one church out of many churches.{ } and the like may be said of the man of the church in particular that is said of the church in general, namely, that the church is within man and not outside of him; and that every man is a church in whom the lord is present in the good of love and of faith.{ } again, the same may be said of a man that has the church in him as of an angel that has heaven in him, namely, that he is a church in the smallest form, as an angel is a heaven in the smallest form; and furthermore that a man that has the church in him, equally with an angel, is a heaven. for man was created that he might come into heaven and become an angel; consequently he that has good from the lord is a man-angel.{ } what man has in common with an angel and what he has in contrast with angels may be mentioned. it is granted to man, equally with the angel, to have his interiors conformed to the image of heaven, and to become, so far as he is in the good of love and faith, an image of heaven. but it is granted to man and not to angels to have his exteriors conform to the image of the world; and so far as he is in good to have the world in him subordinated to heaven and made to serve heaven.{ } and then the lord is present in him both in the world and in heaven just as if he were in his heaven. for the lord is in his divine order in both worlds, since god is order.{ } {footnote } if good were the characteristic and essential of the church, and not truth apart from good, the church would be one (n. , , , , , . ). from good all churches make one church before the lord (n. , ). {footnote } the church is in man, and not outside of him, and the church in general is made up of men that have the church in them (n. [ ]). {footnote } a man who is a church is a heaven in the smallest form after the image of the greatest, because his interiors, which belong to his mind, are arranged after the form of heaven, and consequently for reception of all things of heaven (n. , , , - , , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } man has an internal and an external; hid internal is formed by creation after the image of heaven, and his external after the image of the world; and for this reason man was called by the ancients a microcosm (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). therefore man was created to have the world in him serve heaven, and this takes place with the good; but it is the reverse with the evil, in whom heaven serves the world (n. , ). {footnote } the lord is order, since the divine good and truth that go forth from the lord make order (n. , , , , , , , , ). divine truths are laws of order (n. , ). so far as a man lives according to order, that is, so far as he lives in good in accordance with divine truths, he is a man, and the church and heaven are in him (n. , , , [ ]). . finally it should be said that he who has heaven in himself has it not only in the largest or most general things pertaining to him but also in every least or particular thing, and that these least things repeat in an image the greatest. this comes from the fact that everyone is his own love, and is such as his ruling love is. that which reigns flows into the particulars and arranges them, and every where induces a likeness of itself.{ } in the heavens love to the lord is the ruling love, for there the lord is loved above all things. hence the lord there is the all-in-all, flowing into all and each, arranging them, clothing them with a likeness of himself, and making it to be heaven wherever he is. this is what makes an angel to be a heaven in the smallest form, a society to be a heaven in a larger form, and all the societies taken together a heaven in the largest form. that the divine of the lord is what makes heaven, and that he is the all-in-all, may be seen above (n. - ). {footnote } the ruling or dominant love with everyone is in each thing and all things of his life, thus in each thing and all things of his thought and will (n. , , , ). man is such as is the ruling quality of his life (n. , , , , , , , - , , , , ). when love and faith rule they are in all the particulars of man's life, although he does not know it (n. , , ). . viii. all heaven in the aggregate reflects a single man. that heaven in its whole complex reflects a single man is an arcanum hitherto unknown in the world, but fully recognized in the heavens. to know this and the specific and particular things relating to it is the chief thing in the intelligence of the angels there, and on it many things depend which without it as their general principle would not enter distinctly and clearly into the ideas of their minds. knowing that all the heavens with their societies reflect a single man they call heaven the greatest man and the divine man;{ }--divine because it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven (see above, n. - ). {footnote } heaven in the whole complex appears in form like a man, and for this reason heaven is called the greatest man (n. , , - , - , ). . that into such a form and image celestial and spiritual things are arranged and joined cannot be seen by those who have no right idea of spiritual and heavenly things. such think that the earthy and material things of which man's outmost nature is composed are what makes the man; and that apart from these man is not a man. but let them know that it is not from these that man is a man, but from his ability to understand what is true and to will what is good. such understanding and willing are the spiritual and celestial things of which man is made. moreover, it is known that everyone's quality is determined by the quality of his understanding and will; and it can also be known that his earthly body is formed to serve the understanding and the will in the world, and to skillfully accomplish their uses in the outmost sphere of nature. for this reason the body by itself can do nothing, but is moved always in entire subservience to the bidding of the understanding and will, even to the extent that whatever a man thinks he speaks with his tongue and lips, and whatever he wills he does with his body and limbs, and thus the understanding and the will are what act, while the body by itself does nothing. evidently, then, the things of the understanding and will are what make man; and as these act into the minutest particulars of the body, as what is internal into what is external, they must be in a like form, and on this account man is called an internal or spiritual man. heaven is such a man in its greatest and most perfect form. . such being the angelic idea of man, the angels give no thought to what a man does with his body, but only to the will from which the body acts. this they call the man himself, and the understanding they call the man so far as it acts in unison with the will.{ } {footnote } the will of man is the very being [esse] of his life, and his understanding is the outgo [existere] of his life therefrom (n. , , ). the chief life of man is the life of his will, and from that the life of the understanding proceeds (n. , , , , , , , , ). man is man by virtue of his will and his understanding therefrom (n. , , , , , ). . the angels, it is true, do not see heaven in its whole complex in the human form, for heaven as a whole does not come within view of any angel; but remote societies, consisting of many thousands of angels, they sometimes see as a one in the human form; and from a society, as from a part, they draw their conclusion as to the general, which is heaven. for in the most perfect form generals are like the parts, and parts are like the generals, with simply such a difference as there is between like things of greater or less magnitude; consequently, the angels say that since the divine from what is inmost or highest sees all things, so in the lord's sight heaven as a whole must be in the human form. . heaven being such, it is ruled by the lord as a single man is ruled, thus as a one. for although man, as we know, consists of an innumerable variety of parts, not only as a whole but also in each part-as a whole, of members, organs, and viscera; and in each part, of series of fibers, nerves, and blood-vessels, thus of members within members, and of parts within parts-nevertheless, when he acts he acts as a single man. such likewise is heaven under the auspices and direction of the lord. . so many different things in man act as a one, because there is no least thing in him that does not do something for the general welfare and perform some use. the general performs a use for its parts, and the parts for the general, for the general is composed of the parts and the parts constitute the general; therefore they provide for each other, have regard for each other, and are joined together in such a form that each thing and all things have reference to the general and its good; thus it is that they act as one. [ ] in the heavens there are like affiliations. those there are conjoined according to uses in a like form; and consequently those who do not perform uses for the common good are cast out of heaven as something heterogeneous. to perform use is to will well to others for the sake of the common good; but to will well to others not for the sake of the common good but for the sake of self is not to perform use. these latter are such as love themselves supremely, while the former are such as love the lord supremely. thence it is that those who are in heaven act as a one; and this they do from the lord, not from themselves, for they look to him as the only one, the source of all things, and they regard his kingdom as the general, the good of which is to be sought. this is what is meant by the lord's words, seek ye first the kingdom of god and his righteousness, and all things shall be added unto you (matt. : ). "to seek his righteousness" means to seek his good.{ } [ ] those who in the world love their country's good more than their own, and their neighbor's good as their own, are they who in the other life love and seek the lord's kingdom; for there the lord's kingdom takes the place of country; and those who love doing good to others, not with self as an end but with good as an end, love the neighbor; for in heaven good is the neighbor.{ } all such are in the greatest man, that is, heaven. {footnote } in the wood "righteousness" is predicated of good, and "judgment" of truth; therefore "to do righteousness and judgment" is to do what is good and true (n. , ). {footnote } in the highest sense the lord is the neighbor; consequently to love the lord is to love that which is from him, that is to love good and truth because the lord is in everything that is from him (n. , , , , , ). therefore all good that is from the lord is the neighbor, and to will and do that good is to love the neighbor (n. , ). . as the whole heaven reflects a single man, and is a divine spiritual man in the largest form, even in figure, so heaven like a man is arranged into members and parts, and these are similarly named. moreover, angels know in what member this or that society is. this society, they say, is in a certain part or province of the head, that in a certain part or province of the breast, that in a certain part or province of the loins, and so on. in general, the highest or third heaven forms the head down to the neck; the middle or second heaven forms the breast down to the loins and knees; the lowest or first heaven forms the feet down to the soles, and also the arms down to the fingers. for the arms and hands belong to the lowest parts of man, although at the sides. from this again it is plain why there are three heavens. . the spirits that are beneath heaven are greatly astonished when they hear that heaven is not only above but below, for they have a like faith and opinion as men in the world, that heaven is nowhere but above, for they do not know that the arrangement of the heavens is like the arrangement of the members, organs, and viscera in man, some of which are above and some below; or like the arrangement of the parts in each of the members, organs, and viscera, some of which are within and some without. hence their confused notions about heaven. . these things about heaven as the greatest man are set forth, because what follows in regard to heaven cannot be at all comprehended until these things are known, neither can there be any clear idea of the form of heaven, of the conjunction of the lord with heaven, of the conjunction of heaven with man, of the influx of the spiritual world into the natural, or any idea at all of correspondence-subjects to be treated of in their proper order in what now follows. to throw some light on these subjects, therefore, the above has been premised. . ix. each society in heaven reflects a single man. i have frequently been permitted to see that each society of heaven reflects a single man, and is in the likeness of a man. there was a society into which several had insinuated themselves who knew how to counterfeit angels of light. these were hypocrites. when these were being separated from the angels i saw that the entire society appeared at first like a single indistinct body, then by degrees in a human form, but still indistinctly, and at last clearly as a man. those that were in that man and made up the man were such as were in the good of that society; the others who were not in the man and did not make up the man were hypocrites; these were cast out and the former were retained; and thus a separation was effected. hypocrites are such as talk well and also do well, but have regard to themselves in everything. they talk as angels do about the lord, heaven, love, and heavenly life, and also act rightly, so that they may appear to be what they profess to be. but their thinking is different; they believe nothing; and they wish good to none but themselves. their doing good is for the sake of self, or if for the sake of others it is only for the appearance, and thus still for the sake of self. . i have also been permitted to see that an entire angelic society, where the lord is visibly present, appears as a one in the human form. there appeared on high towards the east something like a cloud, from glowing white becoming red, and with little stars round about, which was descending; and as it gradually descended it became brighter, and at last appeared in a perfect human form. the little stars round about the cloud were angels, who so appeared by virtue of light from the lord. . it must be understood that although all in a heavenly society when seen together as one appear in the likeness of a man; yet no one society is just such a man as another. societies differ from one another like the faces of different individuals of the same family, for the reason given above (n. ), that is, they differ in accordance with the varieties of good in which they are and which determines their form. the societies of the inmost or highest heaven, and in the center there, are those that appear in the most perfect and beautiful human form. . it is worthy of mention that the greater the number in any society in heaven and the more these make a one, the more perfect is its human form, for variety arranged in a heavenly form is what constitutes perfection, as has been shown above (n. ), and number gives variety. moreover, every society of heaven increases in number daily, and as it increases it becomes more perfect. thus not only the society becomes more perfect, but also heaven in general, because it is made up of societies. as heaven gains in perfection by increase of numbers, it is evident how mistaken those are who believe that heaven may be closed by becoming full; for the opposite is true, that it will never be closed, but is perfected by greater and greater fullness. therefore, the angels desire nothing so much as to have new angel guests come to them. . each society, when it appears as one whole is in the form of a man, for the reason that heaven as a whole has that form (as has been shown in the preceding chapter); moreover, in the most perfect form, such as the form of heaven is, there is a likeness of the parts to the whole, and of lesser forms to the greatest. the lesser forms and parts of heaven are the societies of which it consists, which are also heavens in lesser form (see - ). this likeness is perpetual because in the heavens the goods of all are from a single love, that is, from a single origin. the single love, which is the origin of the good of all in heaven, is love to the lord from the lord. it is from this that the entire heaven in general, each society less generally, and each angel in particular, is a likeness of the lord, as has been shown above (n. ). . x. therefore every angel is in a complete human form. in the two preceding chapters it has been shown that heaven in its whole complex, and likewise each society in heaven, reflects a single man. from the sequence of reasons there set forth it follows that this is equally true of each angel. as heaven is a man in largest form, and a society of heaven in a less form, so is an angel in least. for in the most perfect form, such as the form of heaven is, there is a likeness of the whole in the part and of the part in the whole. this is so for the reason that heaven is a common sharing, for it shares all it has with each one, and each one receives all he has from that sharing. because an angel is thus a recipient he is a heaven in least form, as shown above in its chapter; and a man also, so far as he receives heaven, is a recipient, a heaven, and an angel (see above, n. ). this is thus described in the apocalypse: he measured the wall of the holy jerusalem, a hundred and forty and four cubits, the measure of a man, which is that of an angel ( : ). "jerusalem" means here the lord's church, and in a more eminent sense, heaven;{ } the "wall" means truth, which is a defence against the assault of falsities and evils;{ } "a hundred and forty and four" means all goods and truths in the complex;{ } "measure" means what a thing is,{ } a "man" means one in whom are goods and truths in general and in particular, thus in whom is heaven. and as it is from this that an angel is a man, it is said "the measure of a man, which is that of an angel." this is the spiritual meaning of these words. without that meaning how could it be seen that "the wall of the holy jerusalem" is "the measure of a man, which is that of an angel?"{ } {footnote } "jerusalem" means the church (n. , , ). {footnote } the "wall" means truth defending against the assault of falsities and evils (n. ). {footnote } "twelve" means all truths and goods in the complex (n. , , , , , , ). likewise "seventy-two," and "a hundred and forty-four," since this comes from twelve multiplied into itself (n. ). all numbers in the word signify things (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). multiplied numbers have a like signification as the simple numbers from which they arise by multiplication (n. , , , ). {footnote } "measure" in the word signifies the quality of a thing in respect to truth and good (n. , ). {footnote } in regard to the spiritual or internal sense of the word see the explanation of the white horse in the apocalypse, and the appendix to the heavenly doctrine. . let us now turn to experience. that angels are human forms, or men, has been seen by me a thousand times. i have talked with them as man with man, sometimes with one, sometimes with many together; and i have seen nothing whatever in their form different from the human form; and have occasionally been surprised to find them such. and that this might not be said to be a delusion or a vision of fancy, i have been permitted to see angels when fully awake or in possession of all my bodily senses, and in a state of clear perception. and i have often told them that men in the christian world are in such blind ignorance in regard to angels and spirits as to believe them to be minds without form, even pure thoughts, of which they have no idea except as something ethereal in which there is some vitality. and as they thus ascribe to angels nothing human except a thinking faculty, they believe that having no eyes they do not see, having no ears they do not hear, and having no mouth or tongue they do not speak. [ ] to this the angels replied that they are aware that such a belief is held by many in the world, and is prevalent among the learned, and to their surprise, even among the clergy. the reason, they said, is that the learned, who were the leaders and who first concocted such an idea of angels and spirits, conceived of them from the sense-conceptions of the external man; and those who think from these, and not from interior light and from the general idea implanted in everyone, must needs fabricate such notions, since the sense-conceptions of the external man take in only what belongs to nature, and nothing above nature, thus nothing whatever of the spiritual world.{ } from these leaders as guides this falsity of thought about angels extended to others who did not think from themselves but adopted the thoughts of their leaders; and those who first take their thoughts from others and make that thought their belief, and then view it with their own understanding, cannot easily recede from it, and are therefore in most cases satisfied with confirming it. [ ] the angels said, furthermore, that the simple in faith and heart have no such idea about angels, but think of them as the men of heaven, and for the reason that they have not extinguished by learning what is implanted in them from heaven, and have no conception of anything apart from form. this is why angels in churches, whether sculptured or painted, are always depicted as men. in respect to this insight from heaven they said that it is the divine flowing into such as are in the good of faith and life. {footnote } unless man is raised above the sense-conceptions of the external man he has very little wisdom (n. ). the wise man thinks above these sense-conceptions (n. , ). when man is raised above these, he comes into clearer light, and finally into heavenly light (n. , , , , , ). elevation and withdrawal from these was known to the ancients (n. ). . from all my experience, which is now of many years, i am able to say and affirm that angels are wholly men in form, having faces, eyes, ears, bodies, arms, hands, and feet; that they see and hear one another, and talk together, and in a word lack nothing whatever that belongs to men except that they are not clothed in material bodies. i have seen them in their own light, which exceeds by many degrees the noonday light of the world, and in that light all their features could be seen more distinctly and clearly than the faces of men are seen on the earth. it has also been granted me to see an angel of the inmost heaven. he had a more radiant and resplendent face than the angels of the lower heavens. i observed him attentively, and he had a human form in all completeness. . but it must be remembered that a man cannot see angels with his bodily eyes, but only with the eyes of the spirit within him,{ } because his spirit is in the spiritual world, and all things of the body are in the natural world. like sees like from being like. moreover, as the bodily organ of sight, which is the eye, is too gross, as everyone knows, to see even the smaller things of nature except through magnifying glasses, still less can it see what is above the sphere of nature, as all things in the spiritual world are. nevertheless these things can be seen by man when he has been withdrawn from the sight of the body, and the sight of his spirit has been opened; and this can be effected instantly whenever it is the pleasure of the lord that man should see these things; and in that case man does not know but what he is seeing them with his bodily eyes. thus were angels seen by abraham, lot, manoah, and the prophets; and thus, too, the lord was seen by the disciples after the resurrection; and in the same way angels have been seen by me. because the prophets saw in this way they were called "seers," and were said "to have their eyes opened" ( sam. : ; num. : ); and enabling them to see thus was called "opening their eyes," as with elisha's servant, of whom we read: elisha prayed and said, jehovah, i pray thee open his eyes that he may see; and jehovah opened the eyes of the young man and he saw, and behold the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about elisha ( kings : ). {footnote } in respect to his interiors man is a spirit (n. ). and that spirit is the man himself, and it is from that spirit that the body lived (n. , , ). . good spirits, with whom i have spoken about this matter, have been deeply grieved at such ignorance in the church about the condition of heaven and of spirits and angels; and in their displeasure they charged me to declare positively that they are not formless minds nor ethereal breaths, but are men in very form, and see, hear, and feel equally with those who are in this world.{ } {footnote } inasmuch as each angel is a recipient of divine order from the lord, he is in a human form, perfect and beautiful in the measure of his reception (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). it is by means of divine truth that order exists; and divine good is the essential of order (n. , , , , , , , ). . xi. it is from the lord's divine human that heaven as a whole and in part reflects man. that it is from the lord's divine human that heaven as a whole and in part reflects man, follows as a conclusion from all that has been stated and shown in the preceding chapters, namely: (i) that the god of heaven is the lord. (ii) it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven. (iii) heaven consists of innumerable societies; and each society is a heaven in a smaller form, and each angel in the smallest form. (iv) all heaven in the aggregate reflects a single man. (v) each society in the heavens reflects a single man. (vi) therefore every angel is in a complete human form. all this leads to the conclusion that as it is the divine that makes heaven, heaven must be human in form. that this divine is the lord's divine human can be seen still more clearly, because in a compendium, in what has been collected, brought together and collated from the arcana coelestia and placed as a supplement at the end of this chapter. that the lord's human is divine, and that it is not true that his human is not divine, as those with in the church believe, may also be seen in the same extracts, also in the chapter on the lord, in the new jerusalem and its heavenly doctrine, at the end. . that this is true has been proved to me by much experience, about which something shall now be said. no angel in the heavens ever perceives the divine as being in any other than a human form; and what is remarkable, those in the higher heavens are unable to think of the divine in any other way. the necessity of thinking in this way comes from the divine itself that flows in, and also from the form of heaven in harmony with which their thoughts spread forth. for every thought of an angel spreads forth into heaven; and the angels have intelligence and wisdom in the measure of that extension. it is in consequence of this that all in heaven acknowledge the lord, because only in him does the divine human exist. not only have i been told all this by angels, but when elevated into the inner sphere of heaven i have been able to perceive it. from this it is evident that the wiser the angels are the more clearly they perceive this truth; and it is from this that the lord is seen by them; for the lord is seen in a divine angelic form, which is the human form, by those who acknowledge and believe in a visible divine being, but not by those who believe in an invisible divine. for the former can see their divine being, but the latter cannot. . because the angels have no perception of an invisible divine, which they call a divine devoid of form, but perceive only a visible divine in human form, they are accustomed to say that the lord alone is man, and that it is from him that they are men, and that each one is a man in the measure of his reception of the lord. by receiving the lord they understand receiving good and truth which are from him, since the lord is in his good and in his truth, and this they call wisdom and intelligence. everyone knows, they say, that intelligence and wisdom make man, and not a face without these. the truth of this is made evident from the appearance of the angels of the interior heavens, for these, being in good and truth from the lord and in consequent wisdom and intelligence, are in a most beautiful and most perfect human form; while the angels of the lower heavens are in human form of less perfection and beauty. on the other hand, those who are in hell appear in the light of heaven hardly as men, but rather as monsters, since they are not in good and truth but in evil and falsity, and consequently in the opposites of wisdom and intelligence. for this reason their life is not called life, but spiritual death. . because heaven as a whole and in part, from the lord's divine human, reflects a man, the angels say that they are in the lord; and some say that they are in his body, meaning that they are in the good of his love. and this the lord himself teaches, saying, abide in me and i in you. as the branch cannot bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine, so neither can ye, except ye abide in me. for apart from me ye can do nothing. abide in my love. if ye keep my commandments ye shall abide in my love (john : - ). . because such a perception of the divine exists in the heavens, to think of god as in a human form is implanted in every man who receives any influx from heaven. thus did the ancients think of him; and thus do the moderns think of him both outside of the church and within it. the simple see him in thought as the ancient one in shining light. but this insight has been extinguished in all those that by self-intelligence and by a life of evil have rejected influx from heaven. those that have extinguished it by self-intelligence prefer an invisible god; while those that have extinguished it by a life of evil prefer no god. neither of these are aware that such an insight exists, because they do not have it; and yet it is the divine heavenly itself that primarily flows into man out of heaven, because man is born for heaven, and no one without a conception of a divine can enter heaven. . for this reason he that has no conception of heaven, that is, no conception of the divine from which heaven is, cannot be raised up to the first threshold of heaven. as soon as such a one draws near to heaven a resistance and a strong repulsion are perceived; and for the reason that his interiors, which should be receptive of heaven, are closed up from their not being in the form of heaven, and the nearer he comes to heaven the more tightly are they closed up. such is the lot of those within the church who deny the lord, and of those who, like the socinians, deny his divinity. but the lot of those who are born out of the church, and who are ignorant of the lord because they do not have the word, will be described hereafter. . that the men of old time had an idea of the divine as human is evident from the manifestation of the divine to abraham, lot, joshua, gideon, manoah and his wife, and others. these saw god as a man, but nevertheless adored him as the god of the universe, calling him the god of heaven and earth, and jehovah. that it was the lord who was seen by abraham he himself teaches in john ( : ); and that it was he who was seen by the rest is evident from his words: no one hath seen the father, nor heard his voice, nor seen his form (john : ; : ). . but that god is man can scarcely be comprehended by those who judge all things from the sense-conceptions of the external man, for the sensual man must needs think of the divine from the world and what is therein, and thus of a divine and spiritual man in the same way as of a corporeal and natural man. from this he concludes that if god were a man he would be as large as the universe; and if he ruled heaven and earth it would be done through many others, after the manner of kings in the world. if told that in heaven there is no extension of space as in the world, he would not in the least comprehend it. for he that thinks only from nature and its light must needs think in accord with such extension as appears before his eyes. but it is the greatest mistake to think in this way about heaven. extension there is not like extension in the world. in the world extension is determinate, and thus measurable; but in heaven it is not determinate, and thus not measurable. but extension in heaven will be further treated of hereafter in connection with space and time in the spiritual world. furthermore, everyone knows how far the sight of the eye extends, namely, to the sun and to the stars, which are so remote; and whoever thinks deeply knows that the internal sight, which is of thought, has a still wider extension, and that a yet more interior sight must extend more widely still. what then must be said of divine sight, which is the inmost and highest of all? because thoughts have such extension, all things of heaven are shared with everyone there, so, too, are all things of the divine which makes heaven and fills it, as has been shown in the preceding chapters. . those in heaven wonder that men can believe themselves to be intelligent who, in thinking of god, think about something invisible, that is, inconceivable under any form; and that they can call those who think differently unintelligent and simple, when the reverse is the truth. they add, "let those who thus believe themselves to be intelligent examine themselves, whether they do not look upon nature as god, some the nature that is before their eyes, others the invisible side of nature; and whether they are not so blind as not to know what god is, what an angel is, what a spirit is, what their soul is which is to live after death, what the life of heaven in man is, and many other things that constitute intelligence; when yet those whom they call simple know all these things in their way, having an idea of their god that he is the divine in a human form, of an angel that he is a heavenly man, of their soul that is to live after death that it is like an angel, and of the life of heaven in man that it is living in accord with the divine commandments." such the angels call intelligent and fitted for heaven; but the others, on the other hand, they call not intelligent. extracts from the arcana coelestia relating to the lord and his divine human. [ ] the divine was in the lord from very conception (n. , , , , , ). the lord alone had a divine seed (n. ). his soul was jehovah (n. , , , , ). thus the lord's inmost was the divine itself, while the clothing was from the mother (n. ). the divine itself was the being [esse] of the lord's life, and from this the human afterwards went forth and became the outgo [existere] from that being [esse] (n. , , , ). [ ] within the church where the word is and by it the lord is known, the lord's divine ought not to be denied, nor the holy that goes forth from him (n. ). those within the church who do not acknowledge the lord have no conjunction with the divine; but it is otherwise with those outside of the church (n. ). the essential of the church is to acknowledge the lord's divine and his union with the father (n. , , , , , - ). [ ] the glorification of the lord is treated of in the word in many passages (n. ). and in the internal sense of the word everywhere (n. , , ). the lord glorified his human, but not the divine, since this was glorified in itself (n. ). the lord came into the world to glorify his human (n. , , ). the lord glorified his human by means of the divine love that was in him from conception (n. ). the lord's life in the world was his love towards the whole human race (n. ). the lord's love transcends all human understanding (n. ). the lord saved the human race by glorifying his human (n. , ; , , ). otherwise the whole human race would have perished in eternal death (n. ). the state of the lord's glorification and humiliation (n. , , , ). glorification in respect to the lord is the uniting of his human with the divine; and to glorify is to make divine (n. , , ). when the lord glorified his human he put off everything human that was from the mother, until at last he was not her son (n. , , , , ). [ ] the son of god from eternity was the divine truth in heaven (n. , , , , ). when the lord was in the world he made his human divine truth from the divine good that was in him (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord then arranged all things in himself into a heavenly form, which is in accord with divine truth (n. , ). for this reason the lord was called the word, which is divine truth (n. , , , , , ). the lord alone had perception and thought from himself, and this was above all angelic perception and thought (n. , , ). the divine truth which was himself, the lord united with divine good which was in himself (n. , , ). the union was reciprocal (n. , ). [ ] in passing out of the world the lord also made his human divine good (n. , , , , , , ). this is what is meant by his coming forth from the father and returning to the father (n. , ). thus he became one with the father (n. , , ). since that union divine truth goes forth from the lord (n. , , , , , , , , , ). how divine truth goes forth, illustrated (n. , ). it was from his own power that the lord united the human with the divine (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). from this it is clear that the lord's human was not like the human of any other man, in that it was conceived from the divine itself (n. , , ). his union with the father, from whom was his soul, was not as between two persons, but as between soul and body (n. , ). [ ] the most ancient people could not worship the divine being [esse], but could worship only the divine outgo [existere], which is the divine human; therefore the lord came into the world in order to become the divine existere from the divine esse (n. , ). the ancients acknowledged the divine because he appeared to them in a human form, and this was the divine human (n. , , , ). the infinite being [esse] could flow into heaven with the angels and with men only by means of the divine human (n. , , , ). in heaven no other divine than the divine human is perceived (n. , , , ). the divine human from eternity was the divine truth in heaven and the divine passing through heaven; thus it was the divine outgo [existere] which afterwards in the lord became the divine being [esse] per se, from which is the divine existere in heaven (n. , , , ). what the state of heaven was before the lord's coming (n. - ). the divine was not perceptible except when it passed through heaven (n. , , ). [ ] the inhabitants of all the earth worship the divine under a human form, that is, the lord (n. , - , - ). they rejoice when they hear that god actually became man (n. ). all who are in good and who worship the divine under the human form, are received by the lord (n. ). god cannot be thought of except in human form; and what is incomprehensible does not fall into any idea, so neither into belief (n. , ). man is able to worship that of which he has some idea, but not that of which he has no idea (n. , , , , , , ). therefore the divine is worshiped under a human form by most of the inhabitants of the entire globe, and this is the effect of influx from heaven (n. ). all who are in good in regard to their life, when they think of the lord, think of the divine human, and not of the human separate from the divine; it is otherwise with those who are not in good in regard to their life (n. , , , , , , ). in the church at this day those that are in evil in regard to their life, and those that are in faith separate from charity, think of the human of the lord apart from the divine, and do not even comprehend what the divine human is,-why they do not (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord's human is divine because it is from the being [esse] of the father, and this was his soul,--illustrated by a father's likeness in children (n. , , ). also because it was from the divine love, which was the very being [esse] of his life from conception (n. ). every man is such as his love is, and is his love (n. , , ). the lord made all his human, both internal and external, divine (n. , , , , , ). therefore, differently from any man, he rose again as to his whole body (n. , , , ). [ ] that the lord's human is divine is acknowledged from his omnipresence in the holy supper (n. , ). also from his transfiguration before his three disciples (n. ). also from the word of the old testament, in that he is called god (n. ); and is called jehovah (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). in the sense of the letter a distinction is made between the father and the son, that is, between jehovah and the lord, but not in the internal sense of the word, in which the angels of heaven are (n. ). in the christian world the lord's human has been declared not to be divine; this was done in a council for the pope's sake, that he might be acknowledged as the lord's vicar (n. ). [ ] christians were examined in the other life in regard to their idea of one god, and it was found they held an idea of three gods (n. , , - , ). a divine trinity or trine in one person, constituting one god, is conceivable, but not in three persons (n. , , ). a divine trine in the lord is acknowledged in heaven (n. , , , , , ). the trine in the lord is the divine itself, called the father, the divine human, called the son, and the divine going forth, called the holy spirit and this divine trine is a one (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord himself teaches that the father and he are one (n. , , , , , , , , ); also that the holy divine goes forth from him and is his (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). [ ] the divine human flows into heaven and makes heaven (n. ). the lord is the all in heaven and is the life of heaven (n. , ). in the angels the lord dwells in what is his own (n. , , , ). consequently those who are in heaven are in the lord (n. , ). the lord's conjunction with angels is measured by their reception of the good of love and charity from him (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). the entire heaven has reference to the lord (n. , ). the lord is the common center of heaven (n. , ). all in heaven turn themselves to the lord, who is above the heavens (n. , , ). nevertheless angels do not turn themselves to the lord, but the lord turns them to himself (n. ). it is not a presence of angels with the lord, but the lord's presence with angels (n. ). in heaven there is no conjunction with the divine itself, but conjunction with the divine human (n. , , ). [ ] heaven corresponds to the divine human of the lord; consequently heaven in general is as a single man, and for this reason heaven is called the greatest man (n. , , - , - , ). the lord is the only man, and those only are men who receive the divine from him (n. ). so far as they receive are they men and images of him (n. ). therefore angels are forms of love and charity in human form, and this from the lord (n. , , , , , , , ). [ ] the whole heaven is the lord's (n. , ). he has all power in the heavens and on earth (n. , , ). as the lord rules the whole heaven he also rules all things depending thereon, thus all things in the world (n. , , , ). the lord alone has the power to remove the hells, to withhold from evils, and to hold in good, thus to save (n. ). . xii. there is a correspondence of all things of heaven with all things of man. what correspondence is is not known at the present day, for several reasons, the chief of which is that man has withdrawn himself from heaven by the love of self and love of the world. for he that loves self and the world above all things gives heed only to worldly things, since these appeal to the external senses and gratify the natural longings; and he does not give heed to spiritual things, since these appeal to the internal senses and gratify the mind, therefore he casts them aside, saying that they are too high for his comprehension. this was not so with the ancient people. to them the knowledge of correspondences was the chief of knowledges. by means of it they acquired intelligence and wisdom; and by means of it those who were of the church had communication with heaven; for the knowledge of correspondences is angelic knowledge. the most ancient people, who were celestial men, thought from correspondence itself, as the angels do. and therefore they talked with angels, and the lord frequently appeared to them, and they were taught by him. but at this day that knowledge has been so completely lost that no one knows what correspondence is.{ } {footnote } how far the knowledge of correspondences excels other knowledges (n. ). the knowledge of correspondences was the chief knowledge of the ancient people; but at the present day it is wholly forgotten (n. , , , , , , , , , ). the knowledge of correspondences flourished among the eastern nations and in egypt ( , , , , , ). . since, then, without a perception of what correspondence is there can be no clear knowledge of the spiritual world or of its inflow into the natural world, neither of what the spiritual is in its relation to the natural, nor any clear knowledge of the spirit of man, which is called the soul, and its operation into the body, neither of man's state after death, it is necessary to explain what correspondence is and the nature of it. this will prepare the way for what is to follow. . first, what correspondence is. the whole natural world corresponds to the spiritual world, and not merely the natural world in general, but also every particular of it; and as a consequence everything in the natural world that springs from the spiritual world is called a correspondent. it must be understood that the natural world springs from and has permanent existence from the spiritual world, precisely like an effect from its effecting cause. all that is spread out under the sun and that receives heat and light from the sun is what is called the natural world; and all things that derive their subsistence therefrom belong to that world. but the spiritual world is heaven; and all things in the heavens belong to that world. . since man is both a heaven and a world in least form after the image of the greatest (see above, n. ), there is in him both a spiritual and a natural world. the interior things that belong to his mind, and that have relation to understanding and will, constitute his spiritual world; while the exterior things that belong to his body, and that have relation to its senses and activities, constitute his natural world. consequently, everything in his natural world (that is, in his body and its senses and activities), that has its existence from his spiritual world (that is, from his mind and its understanding and will) is called a correspondent. . from the human face it can be seen what correspondence is. in a face that has not been taught to dissemble, all the affections of the mind present themselves to view in a natural form, as in their type. this is why the face is called the index of the mind; that is, it is man's spiritual world presented in his natural world. so, too, what pertains to the understanding is presented in speech, and what pertains to the will is presented in the movements of the body. so whatever effects are produced in the body, whether in the face, in speech, or in bodily movements, are called correspondences. . all this shows also what the internal man is and what the external, namely, that the internal is what is called the spiritual man, and the external what is called the natural man; also that the one is distinct from the other as heaven is from the world; also that all things that take place and come forth in the external or natural man take place and come forth from the internal or spiritual man. . this much has been said about the correspondence of man's internal or spiritual with his external or natural; now the correspondence of the whole heaven with everything pertaining to man shall be treated of. . it has been shown that the entire heaven reflects a single man, and that it is in image a man and is therefore called the greatest man. it has also been shown that the angelic societies, of which heaven consists, are therefore arranged as the members, organs, and viscera are in man, that is, some are in the head, some in the breast, some in the arms, and some in each of their particulars (see above, n. - ); consequently the societies in any member there correspond to the like member in man; those in the head corresponding to the head in man, those in the breast to the breast in man, those in the arms to the arms in man; and so with all the rest. it is from this correspondence that man has permanent existence, for from heaven alone does man have permanent existence. . that heaven is divided into two kingdoms, one called the celestial kingdom and the other the spiritual kingdom, may be seen above in its own chapter. the celestial kingdom corresponds in general to the heart and all things of the heart in the whole body, and the spiritual kingdom to the lungs and to all things of the lungs in the whole body. likewise in man heart and lungs form two kingdoms, the heart ruling there through the arteries and veins, and the lungs through the tendinous and motor fibers, both together in every exertion and movement. so in every man, in his spiritual world, which is called his spiritual man, there are two kingdoms, one of the will and the other of the understanding, the will ruling through affections for good, and the understanding through affections for truth; and these kingdoms correspond to the kingdoms of the heart and of the lungs in the body. it is the same in the heavens; the celestial kingdom is the voluntary part of heaven, and in it good of love reigns; the spiritual kingdom is the intellectual part of heaven, and in it truth reigns. these are what correspond to the functions of the heart and lungs in man. it is on account of this correspondence that in the word the "heart" signifies the will and also good of love, and the "breath" of the lungs signifies the understanding and the truth of faith. for the same reason affections are ascribed to the heart, although they are neither in it nor from it.{ } {footnote } the correspondence of the heart and lungs with the greatest man, which is heaven, from experience (n. - ), the heart corresponds to those in the celestial kingdom, and the lungs to those in the spiritual kingdom (n. - ). there is in heaven a pulse like that of the heart, and a respiration like that of the lungs but interior (n. , , ). there the pulse of the heart varies in conformity to states of love, and the respiration in conformity to states of charity and faith (n. , , ). in the word the "heart" means the will, and "from the heart" means from the will (n. , , , , ). in the word the "heart" also signifies love, and "from the heart" means from love ( , , ). . the correspondence of the two kingdoms of heaven with the heart and lungs is the general correspondence of heaven with man. there is a less general correspondence with each one of his members, organs, and viscera; and what this is shall also be explained. in the greatest man, which is heaven, those that are in the head excel all others in every good, being in love, peace, innocence, wisdom, intelligence, and consequent joy and happiness. these flow into the head of man and the things belonging to the head and corresponding thereto. in the greatest man, or heaven, those that are in the breast are in the good of charity and of faith, and these flow into the breast of man and correspond to it. in the greatest man, or heaven, those that are in the loins and the organs devoted to generation are in marriage love. those in the feet are in the lowest good of heaven, which is called spiritual natural good. those in the arms and hands are in the power of truth from good. those that are in the eyes are in understanding; those in the ears are in attention and obedience; those in the nostrils are in perception; those in the mouth and tongue are in the ability to converse from understanding and perception; those in the kidneys are in truths searching, separating, and correcting; those in the liver, pancreas, and spleen are in various purifications of good and truth; and so with the rest. all these flow into the like things of man and correspond to them. this inflow of heaven is into the functions and uses of the bodily members; and the uses, since they are from the spiritual world, take on a form by means of such things as are in the natural world, and thus present themselves in effect. from this is the correspondence. . for the same reason these same members, organs, and viscera have a like significance in the word; for everything there has a meaning in accordance with correspondence. thus the "head" signifies intelligence and wisdom; the "breast" charity; the "loins" marriage love; the "arms and hands" power of truth; the "feet" what is natural; the "eyes" understanding; the "nostrils" perception; the "ears" obedience, the "kidneys" the scrutiny of truth, and so on.{ } so, too, in the common speech of man it is said of one who is intelligent and wise that he has a good head; of one who is charitable that he is a bosom friend; of one who has clear perception that he is keen scented; of one who is intelligent that he is sharp sighted; of one who is powerful that he is long handed; of one who exercises his will from love that it is done from the heart. these and many other expressions in the speech of men are from correspondence, for they are from the spiritual world, although man is ignorant of it. {footnote } in the word the "breast" signifies charity (n. , , ). the "loins" and organs of generation signify marriage love (n. , , , - ). the "arms" and "hands" signify the power of truth (n. , , - , , , ). the "feet" signify the natural (n. , , , , , - ). the "eye" signifies understanding (n. , - , - , , , ). the "nostrils" signify perception (n. , , , , , , , ). the "ears" signify obedience (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). the "kidneys" signify the scrutiny and correction of truth (n. - , ). . that there is such a correspondence of all things of heaven with all things of man has been made clear to me by much experience, by so much that i am as convinced of it as of any evident fact that admits of no doubt. but it is not necessary to describe all this experience here; nor would it be permissible on account of its abundance. it may be seen set forth in the arcana coelestia, where correspondences, representations, the influx of the spiritual world into the natural world, and the interaction between soul and body, are treated of.{ } {footnote } the correspondence of all the members of the body with the greatest man, or heaven, in general and in particular, from experience (n. , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , ). the influx of the spiritual world into the natural world or of heaven into the world, and the influx of the soul into all things of the body, from experience (n. - , - , - , - , - ). the interaction between soul and body, from experience (n. - , - , - , - , - ). . but notwithstanding that all things of man's body correspond to all things of heaven, it is not in respect to his external form that man is an image of heaven, but in respect to his internal form; for man's interiors are what receive heaven, while his exteriors receive the world. so far, therefore, as his interiors receive heaven man is in respect to them a heaven in least form, after the image of the greatest. but so far as his interiors do not receive heaven he is not a heaven and an image of the greatest, although his exteriors, which receive the world, may be in a form in accordance with the order of the world, and thus variously beautiful. for the source of outward beauty which pertains to the body is in parents and formation in the womb, and it is preserved afterwards by general influx from the world. for this reason the form of one's natural man differs greatly from the form of his spiritual man. what the form of a man's spirit is i have been shown occasionally; and in some who were beautiful and charming in appearance the spirit was seen to be so deformed, black and monstrous that it might be called an image of hell, not of heaven; while in others not beautiful there was a spirit beautifully formed, pure, and angelic. moreover, the spirit of man appears after death such as it has been in the body while it lived therein in the world. . but correspondence applies far more widely than to man; for there is a correspondence of the heavens with one another. to the third or inmost heaven the second or middle heaven corresponds, and to the second or middle heaven the first or outmost heaven corresponds, and this corresponds to the bodily forms in man called his members, organs, and viscera. thus it is the bodily part of man in which heaven finally terminates, and upon which it stands as upon its base. but this arcanum will be more fully unfolded elsewhere. . especially it must be understood that all correspondence with heaven is with the lord's divine human, because heaven is from him, and he is heaven, as has been shown in previous chapters. for if the divine human did not flow into all things of heaven, and in accordance with correspondences into all things of the world, no angel or man could exist. from this again it is evident why the lord became man and clothed his divine from first to last with a human. it was because the divine human, from which heaven existed before the lord's coming, was no longer sufficient to sustain all things, for the reason that man, who is the foundation of the heavens, had subverted and destroyed order. what the divine human was before the lord's coming, and what the condition of heaven was at that time may be seen in the extracts appended to the preceding chapter. . angels are amazed when they hear that there are men who attribute all things to nature and nothing to the divine, and who also believe that their body, into which so many wonders of heaven are gathered, is a product of nature. still more are they amazed that the rational part of man is believed to be from nature, when, if men will but lift their minds a little, they can see that such effects are not from nature but from the divine; and that nature has been created simply for clothing the spiritual and for presenting it in a correspondent form in the outmost of order. such men they liken to owls, which see in darkness, but in light see nothing. . xiii. there is a correspondence of heaven with all things of the earth. what correspondence is has been told in the preceding chapter, and it has there been shown that each thing and all things of the animal body are correspondences. the next step is to show that all things of the earth, and in general all things of the universe, are correspondences. . all things of the earth are distinguished into three kinds, called kingdoms, namely, the animal kingdom, the vegetable kingdom, and the mineral kingdom. the things of the animal kingdom are correspondences in the first degree, because they live; the things of the vegetable kingdom are correspondences in the second degree, because they merely grow; the things of the mineral kingdom are correspondences in the third degree, because they neither live nor grow. correspondences in the animal kingdom are living creatures of various kinds, both those that walk and creep on the ground and those that fly in the air; these need not be specially named, as they are well known. correspondences in the vegetable kingdom are all things that grow and abound in gardens, forests, fields, and meadows; these, too, need not be named, because they are well known. correspondences in the mineral kingdom are metals more and less noble, stones precious and not precious, earths of various kinds, and also the waters. besides these the things prepared from them by human activity for use are correspondences, as foods of every kind, clothing, dwellings and other buildings, with many other things. . also the things above the earth, as the sun, moon, and stars, and those in the atmosphere, as clouds, mists, rain, lightning and thunder, are likewise correspondences. things resulting from the presence and absence of the sun, as light and shade, heat and cold, are also correspondences, as well as those that follow in succession therefrom, as the seasons of the year, spring, summer, autumn, and winter; and the times of day, morning, noon, evening, and night. . in a word, all things that have existence in nature, from the least to the greatest thereof, are correspondences.{ } they are correspondences because the natural world with all things in it springs forth and subsists from the spiritual world, and both worlds from the divine. they are said to subsist also, because everything subsists from that from which it springs forth, subsistence being a permanent springing forth; also because nothing can subsist from itself, but only from that which is prior to itself, thus from a first, and if separated from that it would utterly perish and vanish. {footnote } all things that are in the world and its three kingdoms correspond to the heavenly things that are in heaven, that is, the things in the natural world correspond to the things in the spiritual world (n. , , , - , - , - , , - , , , , , , , , , , ). by correspondences the natural world is conjoined to the spiritual world (n. ). for this reason all nature is a theatre representative of the lord's kingdom (n. , , , , , , , ). . everything in nature that springs forth and subsists in accordance with divine order is a correspondence. divine order is caused by the divine good that flows forth from the lord. it begins in him, goes forth from him through the heavens in succession into the world, and is terminated there in outmosts; and everything there that is in accordance with order is a correspondence. everything there is in accordance with order that is good and perfect for use, because everything good is good in the measure of its use; while its form has relation to truth, truth being the form of good. and for this reason everything in the whole world and of the nature thereof that is in divine order has reference to good and truth.{ } {footnote } everything in the universe, both in heaven and in the world, that is in accordance with order, has reference to good and truth (n. , , , , , , ); and to the conjunction of these, in order to be anything (n. ). . that all things in the world spring from the divine, and are clothed with such things in nature as enable them to exist there and perform use, and thus to correspond, is clearly evident from the various things seen in both the animal and vegetable kingdoms. in both there are things that any one who thinks interiorly can see to be from heaven. for illustration a few things out of a countless number may be mentioned; and first some things from the animal kingdom. many are aware what knowledge there is engrafted as it were in every animal. bees know how to gather honey from flowers, to build cells out of wax in which to store their honey, and thus provide food for themselves and their families, even for a coming winter. that a new generation may be born their queen lays eggs, and the rest take care of them and cover them. they live under a sort of government which all know by instinct. they preserve the working bees and cast out the drones, depriving them of their wings; besides other wonderful things implanted in them from heaven for the sake of their use, their wax everywhere serving the human race for candles, their honey for adding sweetness to food. [ ] again, what wonders do we see in worms, the meanest creatures in the animal kingdom! they know how to get food from the juice of the leaves suited to them, and afterward at the appointed time to invest themselves with a covering and enter as it were into a womb, and thus hatch offspring of their own kind. some are first turned into nymphs and chrysalides, spinning threads about themselves; and this travail being over they come forth clad with a different body, furnished with wings with which they fly in the air as in their heaven, and celebrate marriages and lay eggs and provide posterity for themselves. [ ] besides these special instances all creatures in general that fly in the air know the proper food for their nourishment, not only what it is but where to find it; they know how to build nests for themselves, one kind in one way and another kind in another way; how to lay their eggs in the nests, how to sit upon them, how to hatch their young and feed them, and to turn them out of their home when they are able to shift for themselves. they know, too, their enemies that they must avoid and their friends with whom they may associate, and this from early infancy; not to mention the wonders in the eggs themselves, in which all things lie ready in their order for the formation and nourishment of the chicks; besides numberless other things. [ ] who that thinks from any wisdom of reason will ever say that these instincts are from any other source than the spiritual world, which the natural serves in clothing what is from it with a body, or in presenting in effect what is spiritual in the cause? the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air are born into all this knowledge, while man, who is far superior to them, is not; for the reason that animals are in the order of their life, and have not been able to destroy what is in them from the spiritual world, because they have no rational faculty. man, on the other hand, whose thought is from the spiritual world, having perverted what is in him from that world by a life contrary to order, which his rational faculty has favored, must needs be born into mere ignorance and afterwards be led back by divine means into the order of heaven. . how the things in the vegetable kingdom correspond can be seen from many instances, as that little seeds grow into trees, put forth leaves, produce flowers, and then fruit, in which again they deposit seed, these things taking place in succession and existing together in an order so wonderful as to be indescribable in a few words. volumes might be filled, and yet there would be still deeper arcana, relating more closely to their uses, which science would be unable to exhaust. since these things, too, are from the spiritual world, that is, from heaven, which is in the human form (as has been shown above in its own chapter), so all the particulars in this kingdom have a certain relation to such things as are in man, as some in the learned world know. that all things in this kingdom also are correspondences has been made clear to me by much experience. often when i have been in gardens and have been looking at the trees, fruits, flowers, and plants there, i have recognized their correspondences in heaven, and have spoken with those with whom these were, and have been taught whence and what they were. . but at the present day no one can know the spiritual things in heaven to which the natural things in the world correspond except from heaven, since the knowledge of correspondences is now wholly lost. but the nature of the correspondence of spiritual things with natural i shall be glad to illustrate by some examples. the animals of the earth correspond in general to affection, mild and useful animals to good affections, fierce and useless ones to evil affections. in particular, cattle and their young correspond to the affections of the natural mind, sheep and lambs to the affections of the spiritual mind; while birds correspond, according to their species, to the intellectual things of the natural or the spiritual mind.{ } for this reason various animals, as cattle and their young, rams, sheep, he-goats, and she-goats, he-lambs and she-lambs, also pigeons and turtledoves, were devoted to a sacred use in the israelitish church, which was a representative church, and sacrifices and burnt offerings were made of them. for they correspond in that use to spiritual things, and in heaven these were understood in accordance with the correspondences. moreover, animals according to their kinds and species, because they have life, are affections; and the life of each one is solely from affection and in accordance with affection; consequently every animal has an innate knowledge that is in accord with its life's affection. man is like an animal so far as his natural man is concerned, and is therefore likened to animals in common speech; for example, if he is gentle he is called a sheep or lamb, if fierce a bear or wolf, if cunning a fox or serpent, and so on. {footnote } from correspondence animals signify affections; mild and useful animals good affections, fierce and useless ones evil affections (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , ); illustrated by experience from the spiritual world (n. , , ). influx of the spiritual world into the lives of animals (n. , ). cattle and their young from correspondence signify affections of the natural mind (n. , , , , ). what sheep signify (n. , ); and lambs (n. , ). flying creatures signify intellectual things (n. , , , , , , , , ); with a difference according to their genera and species, from experience in the spiritual world (n. ). . there is a like correspondence with things in the vegetable kingdom. in general, a garden corresponds to the intelligence and wisdom of heaven; and for this reason heaven is called the garden of god, and paradise;{ } and men call it the heavenly paradise. trees, according to their species, correspond to the perceptions and knowledges of good and truth which are the source of intelligence and wisdom. for this reason the ancient people, who were acquainted with correspondences, held their sacred worship in groves;{ } and for the same reason trees are so often mentioned in the word, and heaven, the church, and man are compared to them; as the vine, the olive, the cedar, and others, and the good works done by men are compared to fruits. also the food derived from trees, and more especially from the grain harvests of the field, corresponds to affections for good and truth, because these affections feed the spiritual life, as the food of the earth does the natural life;{ } and bread from grain, in a general sense, because it is the food that specially sustains life, and because it stands for all food, corresponds to an affection for all good. it is on account of this correspondence that the lord calls himself the bread of life; and that loaves of bread had a holy use in the israelitish church, being placed on the table in the tabernacle and called "the bread of faces;" also the divine worship that was performed by sacrifices and burnt offerings was called "bread." moreover, because of this correspondence the most holy act of worship in the christian church is the holy supper, in which bread is given, and wine.{ } from these few examples the nature of correspondence can be seen. {footnote } from correspondence a garden and a paradise signify intelligence and wisdom (n. , ); from experience (n. ). all things that have a correspondence have in the word the same significance (n. , , , , , , ). {footnote } trees signify perceptions and knowledges (n. , , , , , ). for this reason the ancient people held divine worship in groves under trees according to their correspondence (n. , ). influx of heaven into subjects of the vegetable kingdom, as into trees and plants (n. ). {footnote } from correspondence foods signify such things as nourish the spiritual life (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } bread signifies every good that nourishes the spiritual life of man (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). such was the signification of the loaves that were on the table in the tabernacle (n. , ). sacrifices in general were called bread (n. ). bread includes all food (n. ). thus it signifies all heavenly and spiritual food (n. , , , , , , ). . how conjunction of heaven with the world is effected by means of correspondences shall also be told in a few words. the lord's kingdom is a kingdom of ends, which are uses; or what is the same thing, a kingdom of uses which are ends. for this reason the universe has been so created and formed by the divine that uses may be every where clothed in such a way as to be presented in act, or in effect, first in heaven and afterwards in the world, thus by degrees and successively, down to the outmost things of nature. evidently, then, the correspondence of natural things with spiritual things, or of the world with heaven, is through uses, and uses are what conjoin; and the form in which uses are clothed are correspondences and are conjunctions just to the extent that they are forms of uses. in the nature of the world in its threefold kingdom, all things that exist in accordance with order are forms of uses, or effects formed from use for use, and this is why the things in nature are correspondences. but in the case of man, so far as he is in accordance with divine order, that is, so far as he is in love to the lord and in charity towards the neighbor, are his acts uses in form, and correspondences, and through these he is conjoined to heaven. to love the lord and the neighbor means in general to perform uses.{ } furthermore, it must be understood that man is the means by which the natural world and the spiritual world are conjoined, that is, man is the medium of conjunction, because in him there is a natural world and there is a spiritual world (see above, n. ); consequently to the extent that man is spiritual he is the medium of conjunction; but to the extent that a man is natural, and not spiritual, he is not a medium of conjunction. nevertheless, apart from this mediumship of man, a divine influx into the world and into the things pertaining to man that are of the world goes on, but not into man's rational faculty. {footnote } every good has its delight as well as its quality from use and in accordance with use; therefore such as the use is, such is the good (n. , , ). angelic life consists in the goods of love and charity, that is, in performing uses (n. ). the lord, and consequently the angels, look only, in regard to man, to ends, which are uses (n. , , ). the lord's kingdom is a kingdom of uses that is, of ends (n. , , , , , ). serving the lord is performing uses (n. ). each thing and all things in man have been formed for use (n. , , ; also from use, that is, the use is prior to the organic forms in man through which the use is performed, because use is from the inflowing of the lord through heaven (n. , ). moreover man's interiors, which constitute his mind, when he grows to maturity are formed from use and for use (n. , , ). consequently man is such as are the uses with him (n. , , , , , , ). uses are the ends for the sake of which (n. , , , ). use is the first and the last, thus the all of man (n. ). . as all things that are in accord with divine order correspond to heaven, so all things contrary to divine order correspond to hell. all things that correspond to heaven have relation to good and truth; but those that correspond to hell have relation to evil and falsity. . something shall now be said about the knowledge of correspondences and its use. it has been said above that the spiritual world, which is heaven, is conjoined with the natural world by means of correspondences; therefore by means of correspondences communication with heaven is granted to man. for the angels of heaven do not think from natural things, as man does; but when man has acquired a knowledge of correspondences he is able, in respect to the thoughts of his mind, to be associated with the angels, and thus in respect to his spiritual or internal man to be conjoined with them. that there might be such a conjunction of heaven with man the word was written wholly by correspondences, each thing and all things in it being correspondent.{ } if man, therefore, had a knowledge of correspondences he would understand the spiritual sense of the word, and from that it would be given him to know arcana of which he sees nothing in the sense of the letter. for there is a literal sense and there is a spiritual sense in the word, the literal sense made up of such things as are in the world, and the spiritual sense of such things as are in heaven. and such a word, in which everything down to the least jot is a correspondence, was given to men because the conjunction of heaven with the world is effected by means of correspondences.{ } {footnote } the word was written wholly by correspondences (n. ). by means, of the word man has conjunction with heaven (n. , , , , , , ). {footnote } concerning the spiritual sense of the word see the little work on the white horse referred to in the apocalypse. . i have been taught from heaven that the most ancient men on our earth, who were celestial men, thought from correspondences themselves, the natural things of the world before their eyes serving them as means of thinking in this way; and that they could be in fellowship with angels and talk with them because they so thought, and that thus through them heaven was conjoined to the world. for this reason that period was called the golden age, of which it is said by ancient writers that the inhabitants of heaven dwelt with men and associated with them as friends with friends. but after this there followed a period when men thought, not from correspondences themselves, but from a knowledge of correspondences, and there was then also a conjunction of heaven with man, but less intimate. this period was called the silver age. after this there followed men who had a knowledge of correspondences but did not think from that knowledge, because they were in natural good, and not, like those before them in spiritual good. this period was called the copper age. after this man gradually became external, and finally corporeal, and then the knowledge of correspondences was wholly lost, and with it a knowledge of heaven and of the many things pertaining to heaven. it was from correspondence that these ages were named from gold, silver, and copper,{ } and for the reason that from correspondence gold signifies celestial good in which were the most ancient people, silver spiritual good in which were the ancient people that followed, and copper natural good in which were the next posterity; while iron, from which the last age takes its name, signifies hard truth apart from good. {footnote } gold from correspondence signifies celestial good (n. , , , , , , , , ). silver signifies spiritual good, that is, truth from a celestial origin (n. , , , ). copper signifies natural good (n. , ). iron signifies truth in the outmost of order (n. , ). . xiv. the sun in heaven. in heaven neither the sun of the world, nor anything from that sun, is seen, because it is wholly natural. for nature has its beginning from that sun, and whatever is produced by means of it is called natural. but the spiritual, to which heaven belongs, is above nature and wholly distinct from what is natural; and there is no communication between the two except by correspondences. what the distinction between them is may be understood from what has been already said about degrees (n. ), and what the communication is from what has been said in the two preceding chapters about correspondences. . although the sun of the world is not seen in heaven, nor anything from that sun, there is nevertheless a sun there, and light and heat, and all things that are in the world, with innumerable others, but not from a like origin; since the things in heaven are spiritual, and those in the world are natural. the sun of heaven is the lord; the light there is the divine truth and the heat the divine good that go forth from the lord as a sun. from this origin are all things that spring forth and are seen in the heavens. this light and heat and things existing therefrom in heaven will be treated of in the following chapters; in this chapter we will speak only of the sun there. in heaven the lord is seen as a sun, for the reason that he is divine love, from which all spiritual things, and by means of the sun of the world all natural things, have their existence. that love is what shines as a sun. . that the lord is actually seen in heaven as a sun i have not only been told by angels, but it has occasionally been granted me to see it; and therefore what i have heard and seen respecting the lord as a sun i shall be glad to tell in a few words. the lord is seen as a sun, not in heaven, but high above the heavens; and not directly overhead or in the zenith, but before the faces of the angels at a middle height. he is seen at a considerable distance, in two places, one before the right eye and the other before the left eye. before the right eye he is seen exactly like a sun, as it were, with a glow and size like that of the sun of the world. but before the left eye he is not seen as a sun, but as a moon, glowing white like the moon of our earth, and of like size, but more brilliant, and surrounded with many little moons, as it were, each of them of similar whiteness and splendor. the lord is seen so differently in two places because every person sees the lord in accordance with the quality of his reception of the lord, thus he is seen in one way by those that receive him with the good of love, and in another by those that receive him with the good of faith. those that receive him with the good of love see him as a sun, fiery and flaming, in accordance with their reception of him; these are in his celestial kingdom; while those that receive him with the good of faith see him as a moon, white and brilliant in accordance with their reception of him, and these are in his spiritual kingdom.{ } this is so because good of love corresponds to fire; therefore in the spiritual sense fire is love; and the good of faith corresponds to light, and in the spiritual sense light is faith.{ } and the lord appears before the eyes because the interiors, which belong to the mind, see through the eyes, from good of love through the right eye, and from good of faith through the left eye;{ } since with angels and also with men all things at the right correspond to good from which truth is derived, and all at the left to truth that is from good.{ } good of faith is in its essence truth from good. {footnote } the lord is seen in heaven as a sun, and is the sun of heaven (n. , , , ). the lord is seen as a sun by those who are in his celestial kingdom, where love to him reigns, and as a moon by those who are in his spiritual kingdom, where charity to the neighbor and faith reign (n. , - , , ). the lord is seen as a sun at a middle height before the right eye, and an a moon before the left eye (n. , , - , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord is seen as a sun and as a moon (n. , ). the lord's divine itself is far above his divine in heaven (n. , ). {footnote } "fire" in the word signifies love, both in a good sense and in a bad sense (n. , , ). holy or heavenly fire signifies the divine love (n. , , ). infernal fire signifies love of self and of the world and every lust of those loves (n. , , , , , ). love is the fire of life and life itself is really from it (n. , , , ). "light" signifies the truth of faith (n. , , , , , , , , , ). {footnote } the sight of the left eye corresponds to truths of faith, and the sight of the right eye to their goods (n. , ). {footnote } the things on man's right have relation to good from which is truth, and those on his left to truth from good (n. , ). . this is why in the word the lord in respect to love is likened to the sun, and in respect to faith to the moon; also that the "sun" signifies love from the lord to the lord, and the "moon" signifies faith from the lord in the lord, as in the following passages: the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days (isa. : ). and when i shall extinguish thee i will cover the heavens and make the stars thereof dark; i will cover the sun with a cloud, and the moon shall not make her light to shine. all luminaries of light in the heavens will i make dark over thee, and i will set darkness upon thy land (ezek. : , ). i will darken the sun in his going forth, and the moon shall not make her light to shine (isa. : ) the sun and the moon shall be darkened, and the stars shall withdraw their shining. the sun shall be turned into darkness and the moon into blood (joel : , , ; : ). the sun became black as sackcloth and hair, and the moon became as blood, and the stars fell unto the earth (apoc. : , ). immediately after the affliction of those days the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven (matt. : ). and elsewhere. in these passages the "sun" signifies love, and the "moon" faith, and the "stars" knowledges of good and truth.{ } these are said to be darkened, to lose their light, and to fall from heaven, when they are no more. that the lord is seen as a sun in heaven is evident also from his appearance when transfigured before peter, james, and john, that his face did shine as the sun (matt. : ). these disciples thus saw the lord when they were withdrawn from the body, and were in the light of heaven. it was because of this correspondence that the ancient people, with whom was a representative church, turned the face to the sun in the east when they were in divine worship; and for the same reason they gave to their temples an eastern aspect. {footnote } "stars" and "constellations" in the word signify knowledges of good and truth (n. , , ). . how great the divine love is and what it is can be seen by comparison with the sun of the world, that it is most ardent, if you will believe it, much more ardent than that sun. for this reason the lord as a sun does not flow without mediums into the heavens, but the ardor of his love is gradually tempered on the way. these temperings appear as radiant belts about the sun; furthermore, the angels are veiled with a thin adapting cloud to prevent their being harmed by the influx.{ } for this reason the heavens are more or less near in accordance with reception. as the higher heavens are in good of love they are nearest to the lord as the sun; and as the lower heavens are in good of faith they are farther away from him. but those that are in no good, like those in hell, are farthest away, at different distances in accordance with their opposition to good.{ } {footnote } what the lord's divine love is, and how great it is, illustrated by comparison with the fire of this world's sun (n. , , ). the lord's divine love is love toward the whole human race to save it (n. , , , ). the love that first goes forth from the fire of the lord's love does not enter heaven, but is seen as radiant belts about the sun (n. ). the angels are veiled with a corresponding thin cloud, to prevent their being harmed by the glow of burning love (n. ). {footnote } the lord's presence with the angels is in proportion to their reception of good of love and faith from him (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord appears to each one in accordance with what he is (n. , , , ). the hells are at a distance from the heavens because they cannot bear the presence of divine love from the lord (n. , , , , , , ). for this reason the hells are very far away from the heavens, and this is the "great gulf" (n. , ). . when, however, the lord appears in heaven, which often occurs, he does not appear encompassed with a sun, but in the form of an angel, yet distinguished from angels by the divine shining through from his face, since he is not there in person, for in person the lord is constantly encompassed by the sun, but he is present by look. for it is a common occurrence in heaven for persons to appear to be present in a place where their look is fixed or is terminated, even when this place is far away from where they really are. this presence is called the presence of internal sight, which will be treated of further on. i have also seen the lord out of the sun in an angelic form, at a height a little below the sun; also near by in a like form, with shining face, and once in the midst of angels as a flame-like radiance. . to the angels the sun of the world appears like a dense darkness opposite to the sun of heaven, and the moon like a darkness opposite to the moon of heaven, and this constantly; and for the reason that the world's fieriness corresponds to the love of self, and the light from it corresponds to what is false from that love; and the love of self is the direct opposite of the divine love; and what is false from that love is the direct opposite of the divine truth; and the opposite of the divine love and the divine truth is to the angels thick darkness. therefore, in the word, to worship the sun and moon of this world and bow down to them, signifies to love self and the falsities that spring from the love of self, and it is said that such would be cut off. (deut. : ; : - ; jer. : , ; ezek. : , , ; apoc. : ; matt. : ).{ } {footnote } the sun of the world is not seen by the angels, but in its place something dark behind, opposite to the sun of heaven or the lord (n. , ). in the opposite sense the sun signifies the love of self (n. ); and in this sense "to worship the sun" signifies to worship what is contrary to heavenly love or to the lord (n. , ). to those in the hells the sun of heaven is thick darkness (n. ). . as it is from the divine love that is in and from him that the lord appears in heaven like a sun, so all in the heavens are turned constantly to him those in the celestial kingdom to him as a sun and those in the spiritual kingdom to him as a moon. but those that are in hell turn themselves to an opposite darkness and dense darkness, that is, they turn backwards, away from the lord; and for the reason that all in the hells are in love of self and the world, thus antagonistic to the lord. those who turn themselves to the dense darkness that is in the place where this world's sun is are in the hells behind, and are called genii; while those that turn themselves to the darkness that is in the place of the moon are in the hells more in front, and are called spirits. this is why those in the hells are said to be in darkness, and those in the heavens in light, "darkness" signifying falsity from evil, and "light" truth from good. they so turn themselves because all in the other life look towards what rules in their interiors, thus to their loves; and with angels and spirits the interiors determine the face; and in the spiritual world quarters are not fixed, as in the natural world, but are determined by the face. in respect to his spirit man turns himself in like manner as a spirit does, backwards from the lord if he is in love of self and the world, and towards the lord if he is in love to the lord and the neighbor. but of this man is ignorant, because he is in the natural world where quarters are determined by the rising and setting of the sun. but as this cannot be easily comprehended by men it will be elucidated hereafter when quarters, space, and time in heaven are treated of. . because the lord is the sun of heaven and everything that is from him looks to him, he is also the common center, the source of all direction and determination.{ } so, too, all things beneath are in his presence and under his auspices, both in the heavens and on the earths. {footnote } the lord is the common center to which all things of heaven turn (n. , ). . from all this what has been said and shown in previous chapters about the lord may now be seen in clearer light, namely: that he is the god of heaven (n. - ). that it is his divine that makes heaven (n. - ). that the lord's divine in heaven is love to him and charity towards the neighbor (n. - ). that there is a correspondence of all things of the world with heaven, and through heaven with the lord (n. - ). also that the sun and moon of the world are correspondences (n. ). . xv. light and heat in heaven. that there is light in the heavens those who think from nature alone cannot comprehend; and yet such is the light in the heavens that it exceeds by many degrees the noon-day light of the world. that light i have often seen, even during the evening and night. at first i wondered when i heard the angels say that the light of this world is little more than a shadow in comparison with the light of heaven; but having seen it i can testify that it is so. the brightness and splendor of the light of heaven are such as cannot be described. all things that i have seen in the heavens have been seen in that light, thus more clearly and distinctly than things in this world. . the light of heaven is not a natural light, like the light of the world, but a spiritual light, because it is from the lord as a sun, and that sun is the divine love (as has been shown in the foregoing chapter). that which goes forth from the lord as a sun is called in the heavens divine truth, but in its essence it is divine good united to divine truth. from this the angels have light and heat, light from divine truth, and heat from divine good. as the light of heaven, and the heat also, are from such a source, it is evident that they are spiritual and not natural.{ } {footnote } all light in the heavens is from the lord as a sun (n. , , , , , , , , , ). the divine truth that goes forth from the lord appears in heaven as light, and furnishes all the light of heaven (n. , , , , , , , ). . the divine truth is light to the angels because the angels are spiritual and not natural. spiritual beings see from their sun, and natural beings from theirs. it is from divine truth that angels have understanding, and their understanding is their inner sight, which flows into and produces their outer sight; therefore in heaven whatever is seen from the lord as the sun is seen in light.{ } this being the source of light in heaven the light is varied there in accordance with the reception of divine truth from the lord; or what is the same, in accordance with the intelligence and wisdom in which the angels are, thus differently in the celestial kingdom and in the spiritual kingdom, and differently in each society. in the celestial kingdom the light appears flaming because the angels there receive light from the lord as a sun; but in the spiritual kingdom the light is shining white, because the angels there receive light from the lord as a moon (see above, n. ). so, too, the light differs in different societies, and again in each society, those that are at the center being in greater light and those in the circumference in less light (see n. ). in a word, the angels have light in the same degree in which they are recipients of divine truth, that is, are in intelligence and wisdom from the lord;{ } and this is why the angels of heaven are called angels of light. {footnote } the light of heaven illumines both the sight and the understanding of angels and spirits (n. , ). {footnote } the light in heaven is in harmony with the intelligence and wisdom of the angels (n. , , , ). differences of light in the heavens are as many as there are angelic societies; and as there are in the heavens endless varieties of good and truth, so are there of wisdom and intelligence (n. , , , , , , , , , ). . as the lord in the heavens is divine truth, and the divine truth there is light, so in the word he is called light, likewise all truth is from him, as in the following passages: jesus said, i am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life (john : ). as long as i am in the world i am the light of the world (john : ). jesus said, yet a little while is the light with you. walk while ye have the light, lest darkness overtake you. while ye have the light believe in the light, that ye may be sons of light. i have come a light into the world, that whosoever believeth in me may not abide in darkness (john : , , ). light has come into the world, but men have loved the darkness rather than the light (john : ). john says of the lord: this is the true light which lighteneth every man (john : ). the people that sit in darkness have seen a great light, and to them that were sitting in the shadow of death light is sprung up (matt. : ). i will give thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the gentiles (isa. : ). i have established thee for a light of the gentiles that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth (isa. : ). the nations of them that are saved shall walk in his light (apoc. : ). send out thy light and thy truth; let them lead me (psalm : ). in these and other passages the lord is called light from divine truth, which is from him; and the truth itself is likewise called light. as light in the heavens is from the lord as a sun, so when he was transfigured before peter, james, and john: his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light (matt. : ). and his garments became shining, exceeding white as snow, so as no fuller on earth can whiten them (mark : ; matt. : ). the lord's garments had this appearance because they represented divine truth which is from him in the heavens, "garments" also in the word signifying truths,{ } consequently it is said in david: o jehovah, thou coverest thyself with light as with a garment (psalm : ). {footnote } in the word "garments" signify truths, because truths clothe good (n. , , , , , , , ). the lord's garments when he was transfigured signified divine truth going forth from his divine love (n. , ). . that light in the heavens is spiritual and that this light is divine truth may be inferred also from the fact that men as well as angels have spiritual light, and have enlightenment from that light so far as they are in intelligence and wisdom from divine truth. man's spiritual light is the light of his understanding, and the objects of that light are truths, which he arranges analytically into groups, forms into reason, and from them draws conclusions in series.{ } the natural man does not know that the light from which the understanding sees such things is a real light, for he neither sees it with his eyes nor perceives it by thought. and yet there are many who recognize this light, and distinguish it from the natural light in which those are who think naturally and not spiritually. those think naturally who take account of the world only, and attribute all things to nature; while those think spiritually who take account of heaven and attribute all things to the divine. it has often been granted me to perceive and also to see that there is a true light that enlightens the mind, wholly distinct from the light that is called natural light [lumen]. i have been raised up interiorly into that light by degrees; and as i was raised up my understanding became so enlightened as to enable me to perceive what i did not perceive before, and finally such things as i could not even comprehend by thought from natural light. sometimes i felt indignant that i could not comprehend these things when they were so clearly and plainly perceived in the light of heaven.{ } because there is a light that belongs to the understanding, the same things are said of it as of the eye, as that it sees and is in light when it perceives, and is in obscurity and shade when it does not perceive, and so on. {footnote } man is rational because his understanding is illumined by the light of heaven (n. , , , , , , , , ). the understanding is enlightened because it is a recipient of truth (n. , , ). the understanding is enlightened to the extent that man receives truth in good from the lord (n. ). the understanding is such as are the truths from good by which it is formed (n. ). the understanding has light from heaven, as the sight has light from the world (n. , , , ). the light of heaven from the lord is always present with man, but it flows in only in the degree that man is in truth from good (n. , ). {footnote } when man is raised up from the sensual he comes into a milder light, and at length into heavenly light (n. , , ). when man is raised up into intelligence there is an actual elevation into the light of heaven (n. ). how great a light was perceived when i was withdrawn from worldly ideas (n. , ). . as the light of heaven is divine truth, that light is also divine wisdom and intelligence; therefore to be raised up into the light of heaven means the same as to be raised up into intelligence and wisdom and enlightened. for this reason the angels have light in just the same degree as they have intelligence and wisdom. because the light of heaven is divine wisdom, in that light the character of everyone is recognized. the interiors of everyone lie open to view in his face just as they are, with not the least thing hidden. and interior angels love to have all things that pertain to them lying open, since they will nothing but good. it is otherwise with those beneath heaven, who do not will what is good, and for that reason fear greatly to be seen in the light of heaven. and wonderful to tell, while those in hell appear to one another as men, in the light of heaven they appear as monsters, with a horrid face and body, the exact form of their own evil.{ } in respect to his spirit man appears, when seen by angels, in a like way; if good as a man, beautiful in accord with his good; if evil as a monster, ugly in accord with his evil. from this it is clear that in the light of heaven all things are made manifest, and for the reason that the light of heaven is divine truth. {footnote } those in the hells, in their own light, which is like the light from burning coals, appear to themselves as men but in the light of heaven they appear as monsters (n. , , , , , , ). . as divine truth is light in the heavens, so all truths wherever they are, whether within an angel or outside of him, or whether within the heavens or outside of them, emit light. nevertheless, truths outside of the heavens do not shine as truths within the heavens do. truths outside of the heavens shine coldly, like something snowy, without heat, because they do not draw their essence from good, as truths within the heavens do; therefore that cold light vanishes as soon as the light of heaven falls on it, and if there is evil underneath it it is turned into darkness. this i have occasionally seen, with many other noteworthy things about the shining of truth, which must be omitted here. . something shall now be said about the heat of heaven. that heat in its essence is love. it goes forth from the lord as a sun, which is divine love in the lord and from the lord, as has been shown in the preceding chapter. it is evident, therefore, that the heat of heaven, like the light of heaven, is spiritual, because from the same source.{ } there are two things that go forth from the lord as a sun, divine truth and divine good; divine truth is manifested in the heavens as light, and divine good as heat; and yet divine truth and divine good are so united that they are not two, but one. nevertheless, with angels they are separate, for there are angels that receive more of divine good than of divine truth, and there are those that receive more of divine truth than of divine good. those who receive more of divine good are in the lord's celestial kingdom, and those who receive more of divine truth are in his spiritual kingdom. those that receive both in a like degree are the most perfect angels. {footnote } there are two sources of heat and also two sources of light, the sun of the world and the sun of heaven (n. , , ). heat from the lord as a sun is affection of love (n. , ). therefore spiritual heat in its essence is love (n. , , , ). . the heat of heaven, like the light of heaven, is everywhere different. it is different in the celestial kingdom from what it is in the spiritual kingdom, and it is different in each society therein. it differs both in degree and in quality. it is more intense and more pure in the lord's celestial kingdom, because the angels there receive more of divine good; and it is less intense and pure in his spiritual kingdom, because the angels there receive more of divine truth. also in each society the heat differs in accordance with reception. there is heat in the hells, but it is unclean heat.{ } the heat in heaven is what is meant by holy and heavenly fire, and the heat of hell by profane and infernal fire. both mean love--heavenly fire meaning love to the lord and love to the neighbor and every affection of those loves, and infernal fire meaning love of self and love of the world and every lust of those loves. that love is heat from a spiritual source is shown from one's growing warm with love; for in accordance with the strength and nature of his love a man is inflamed and grows warm; and the heat of his love is made manifest when it is opposed. from this also it is customary to speak of being inflamed, growing hot, burning, boiling, being on fire, both in regard to the affections of the love of good and the lusts of the love of evil. {footnote } there is heat in the hells, but it is unclean (n. , , ). the odor from it is like the odor from dung and excrement in the world and in the worst hells like the odor of dead bodies (n. , , , , , , , ). . love going forth from the lord as a sun is felt in heaven as heat, because the interiors of the angels are in a state of love from the divine good that is from the lord; and in consequence their exteriors which grow warm therefrom are in a state of heat. for this reason heat and love so correspond to each other in heaven that everyone there is in heat such as his love is, according to what has been said just above. this world's heat does not enter heaven at all, because it is too gross, and is natural, and not spiritual; but with men it is otherwise, because they are in both the spiritual world and the natural world. as to their spirits they grow warm in exact accordance with their loves; but as to the body they grow warm both from the heat of their spirit and from the heat of the world. the former flows into the latter, because they correspond. the nature of the correspondence of the two kinds of heat can be seen from animal life, in that the love of animals-the chief of which is the love of propagating offspring of their kind-bursts forth and becomes active in accordance with the presence and influence of heat from the sun of the world, which is the heat of the spring and the summer seasons. those who believe that the world's heat flows in and excites these loves are greatly mistaken, for there can be no influx from the natural into the spiritual, but only from the spiritual into the natural. this influx is of divine order, but the other would be contrary to divine order.{ } {footnote } there is spiritual influx, but not physical, that is, there is influx from the spiritual world into the natural, but not from the natural world into the spiritual (n. , , , , , , , , , ). . angels, like men, have understanding and will. the light of heaven constitutes the life of their understanding, because that light is divine truth and divine wisdom therefrom; and the heat of heaven constitutes the life of their will, because that heat is divine good and divine love therefrom. the veriest life of the angels is from heat, and from light only so far as heat is in it. that life is from heat is shown by the fact that when heat is taken away life perishes. the same is true of faith without love or of truth without good; since the truth that is called truth of faith is light, and the good that is called good of love is heat. { } this is more clearly shown by the heat and light of the world, to which the heat and light of heaven correspond. by the world's heat when conjoined with light, as in spring and summer, all things on the earth are quickened and grow, but by light separate from heat nothing is quickened or grows, but everything lies torpid and dies. they are not conjoined in winter, when heat is absent though light remains. from this correspondence heaven is called paradise, since truth is there joined with good, or faith with love, as light is with heat in springtime on the earth. all this makes more clear the truth set forth in its own chapter (n. - ), that the divine of the lord in heaven is love to him and charity towards the neighbor. {footnote } truths apart from good are not in themselves truths because they have no life; for truths have all their life from good (n. ). thus truths apart from good are like a body without a soul (n. , ). truths apart from good are not accepted by the lord (n. ). what truth apart from good, that is, what faith apart from love is, and what truth from good or faith from love is (n. - , , , ). it amounts to the same thing whether you say truth or faith, or whether you say good or love, since truth is of faith and good is of love (n. , , , , , , , ). . it is said in john: in the beginning was the word, and the word was with god, and god was the word. all things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that hath been made. in him was life, and the life was the light of men. he was in the world, and the world was made through him. and the word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory ( : - ). evidently the lord is here meant by "the word," for it is said that "the word became flesh." but what is specifically meant by "the word" is not known and shall therefore be explained. here "the word" means the divine truth which is in the lord and from the lord;{ } and this is why it is also called "the light," which is the divine truth, as has been already shown in this chapter. that it was by means of divine truth that all things were created and made shall now be explained. [ ] in heaven divine truth has all power, and apart from it there is no power whatever.{ } from the divine truth angels are called powers, and are powers to the extent that they are recipients or receptacles of it. by means of it they prevail over the hells and over all that oppose them. a thousand enemies there cannot stand against a single ray of the light of heaven, which is divine truth. as angels are angels by their reception of divine truth it follows that the entire heaven is from no other source, since heaven consists of angels. [ ] that there is such power in divine truth those cannot believe that have no other idea of truth than that it is thought or speech, which has in it no power except as others do it from obedience. but divine truth has power in itself, and such power that by means of it heaven was created and the world with all things therein. that there is such power in divine truth may be shown by two comparisons-by the power of truth and good in man, and by the power of light and heat from the sun in the world. by the power of good and truth in man, in that everything that a man does he does from his understanding and will-from his will by means of good and from his understanding by means of truth; for all things in the will have relation to good and all things in the understanding have relation to truth.{ } therefore it is from good and truth that man moves his whole body, and a thousand things therein rush with one accord to do their will and pleasure. this makes clear that the whole body is formed for subservience to good and truth, consequently is formed by good and truth. [ ] by the power of heat and light from the sun in the world, in that all things that grow in the world, as trees, cereals, flowers, grasses, fruits, and seeds, come into existence wholly by means of the heat and light of the sun; which shows what power of producing there is in them. what, then, must be the power in divine light, which is divine truth, and in divine heat, which is divine good? because heaven has its existence from these, so does the world have its existence therefrom, since the world has its existence by means of heaven, as has been already shown. from all this the meaning of these words can be seen that "all things were made through the word, and without the word was not anything made that has been made;" also that "the world was made through him," that is, through divine truth from the lord.{ } for the same reason, in the book of creation, light is first spoken of, and then the things that are from light (gen. : , ). for this reason also all things in the universe, both in heaven and in the world, have relation to good and truth and to their conjunction, in order to be anything. {footnote } in the sacred scripture word signifies various things, namely, speech, thought of the mind, any thing that really exists, also something, and in the highest sense divine truth, and the lord (n. ). "word" signifies divine truth (n. , , , , , , ). "word" signifies the lord (n. , ). {footnote } divine truth going forth from the lord has all power (n. , ). truth from good has all power in heaven (n. , , , , , , , ). angels are called powers, and are powers by the reception of divine truth from the lord (n. ). angels are recipients of divine truth from the lord and therefore in the word are sometimes called gods (n. , , , , ). {footnote } the understanding is a recipient of truth, and the will a recipient of good (n. , , , , ). therefore all things in the understanding have relation to truths, whether they are really truths or are believed by man to be truths, and all things in the will in like manner have relation to goods (n. , ). {footnote } divine truth going forth from the lord is the only real thing (n. , , ). by means of divine truth all things were created and made (n. , , , ). .{ } it must be understood that the divine good and the divine truth that are from the lord as a sun in the heavens are not in the lord, but are from the lord. in the lord there is only divine love, which is the being [esse] from which the divine good and the divine truth spring. outgo [existere] from being [esse] is meant by going forth [procedere]. this, too, can be made clear by comparison with the world's sun. the heat and light that are in the world are not in the sun, but are from the sun. in the sun there is fire only, and it is from this that heat and light spring and go forth. {footnote } [there is no n. in the original. -- editor.] . since the lord as a sun is divine love, and divine love is divine good itself, the divine that goes forth from the lord, which is his divine in heaven, is called, for the sake of distinction, divine truth, although it is in fact divine good united to divine truth. this divine truth is what is called the holy that goes forth from him. . xvi. the four quarters in heaven. both in heaven and in the world there are four quarters, east, south, west, and north, determined in each world by its own sun; in heaven by the sun of heaven, which is the lord, in the world by the sun of the world. and yet there are great differences between them. in the first place, in the world that is called the south where the sun is in its greatest altitude above the earth, north where it is in its opposite position beneath the earth, east where it rises at an equinox, and west where it then sets. thus in the world it is from the south that all the quarters are determined. but in heaven that is called the east where the lord is seen as a sun, opposite to this is the west, at the right is the south in heaven, and at the left the north; and this in whatever direction the face and the body are turned. thus in heaven it is from the east that all the quarters are determined. that is called the east [oriens] where the lord is seen as a sun, because all origin [origo] of life is from him as a sun; moreover, so far as angels receive heat and light or love and intelligence from the lord he is said to arise [exoriri] upon them. for the same reason the lord is called the east [oriens] in the word.{ } {footnote } in the highest sense the lord is the east [oriens], because he is the sun of heaven, which is always rising and never setting (n. , , ). . another difference is that to the angels the east is always before the face, the west behind, the south to the right, and the north to the left. but since this cannot be easily comprehended in the world, for the reason that men turn the face to every quarter, it shall be explained. the entire heaven turns itself to the lord as to its common center; to that center do all the angels turn themselves. also on the earth, as is well known, there is a directing of all things towards a common center; but there is this difference between this directing in the world and that in heaven, that in heaven the front parts are turned to the common center, but in the world the lower parts of the body. in the world this directing is called centripetal force, also gravitation. the interiors of angels are actually turned forwards; and since interiors manifest themselves in the face it is the face that determines the quarters.{ } {footnote } in heaven all turn themselves to the lord (n. , , , ). nevertheless, it is not the angels that turn themselves to the lord, but the lord turns the angels to himself (n. ). it is not that the angels are present with the lord, but the lord is present with the angels (n. ). . it is still more difficult to comprehend in the world that in every turning of their face and body the angels have the east before the face, since man according as he turns, has every quarter before his face. this shall also be explained. although angels, like men, turn and direct their faces and bodies in every direction, they nevertheless have the east always before their eyes. but the turnings of angels are unlike the turnings of men, because they are from a different origin. they appear alike, but they are not. the origin of these turnings is their ruling love, and from this all directions with angels and spirits are determined, for, as just said, their interiors are actually turned towards their common center, which in heaven is the lord as a sun; consequently their ruling love is always before their face, because their love is always before their interiors, and the face has existence from the interiors, for it is their outward form; and in the heavens this love is the lord as a sun because it is from him that they have their love.{ } and as the lord himself is in angels in his love, it is the lord who causes them to look to him whithersoever they turn. this cannot be explained any farther now; but it will be made clearer to the understanding in subsequent chapters, especially where representations and appearances, and time and space in heaven, are treated of. that the angels have the lord constantly before their faces it has been granted me to know and also to perceive from much experience; for whenever i have been in company with angels i have noticed the lord's presence before my face, not actually seen, and yet perceptible in a light; and angels have often testified that this is so. as the lord is constantly before the faces of the angels, so it is said in the world of those who believe in the lord and love him that they have god before their eyes and their face, and that they look to god, and see god. these expressions have their origin in the spiritual world, from which are many things in human speech, although their source is unknown to men. {footnote } in the spiritual world all constantly turn themselves to their loves; and the quarters there have their beginning in the face and are determined by it (n. , , , ). the face is formed to a correspondence with the interiors (n. - , ). therefore the interiors shine forth from the face (n. , , ). with angels the face makes one with the interiors (n. , , , , ). the influx of the interiors into the face and its muscles (n. , ). . this turning to the lord is among the wonderful things in heaven. there may be many together in one place, some turning the face and body one way and some another, and yet all see the lord before them, and have everyone has the south at his right, the north at his left, and the west behind him. another wonderful thing is that, although the angels look only to the east they have also a look towards the other three quarters; but the look to these is from their interior sight, which pertains to their thought. and it is yet another wonderful thing that in heaven no one is ever permitted to stand behind another and look at the back of his head, for this would disturb the influx of good and truth from the lord. . the lord is seen by the angels, and the angels are seen by the lord in another way. angels see the lord through their eyes; but the lord sees the angels in the forehead, and this for the reason that the forehead corresponds to love, and it is through love that the lord flows into their will, while it is through the understanding, to which the eyes correspond, that he causes himself to be seen.{ } {footnote } the forehead corresponds to heavenly love; therefore in the word the "forehead" signifies that love (n. ). the eye corresponds to the understanding, because the understanding is internal sight (n. , , , , ). for this reason "to lift up the eyes" and "to see" signifies to understand, perceive, and observe (n. , , , , , , , ). . the quarters in the heavens that give form to the lord's celestial kingdom differ from the quarters in the heavens that give form to his spiritual kingdom, for the reason that he is seen by the angels in his celestial kingdom as a sun, but by the angels in his spiritual kingdom as a moon; and where the lord is seen is the east. the distance there between the position of the sun and that of the moon is thirty degrees, and there is a like difference in the position of the quarters. that heaven is divided into two kingdoms, called the celestial kingdom and the spiritual kingdom, may be seen in its own chapter (n. - ); and that the lord is seen in the celestial kingdom as a sun, and in the spiritual kingdom as a moon (n. ). but it does not follow that the quarters of heaven become confused on this account, for neither can the spiritual angels ascend among the celestial angels, nor the celestial descend among the spiritual, as may be seen above (n. ). . this makes clear the nature of the lord's presence in the heavens, that he is every where and with everyone in the good and truth that go forth from him; consequently he is with angels in what is his own, as has been said above (n. ). the perception of the lord's presence is in their interiors; and it is from these that their eyes see, and it is by this continuity that they see the lord outside of themselves. this shows what is meant by the lord's being in them and they in him, according to his own words: abide in me and i in you (john : ). he that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood abideth in me and i in him (john : ). "the lord's flesh" signifies divine good and "his blood" divine truth.{ } {footnote } in the word "the lord's flesh" signifies his divine human, and the divine good of his love (n. , , , ). and "the lord's blood" signifies divine truth and the holy of faith (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). . all in the heavens have their own places of abode in accordance with the quarters. those who are in the good of love dwell towards the east and west, those who are in clear perception of it towards the east, and those who are in obscure perception of it towards the west. those who are in wisdom from the good of love dwell towards the south and north-those who are in the clear light of wisdom towards the south, and those who are in obscure light of it towards the north. the angels of the lord's spiritual kingdom and those of his celestial kingdom dwell in a like order, but differently as their good of love and light of truth from good differ; for in the celestial kingdom the love is love to the lord, and the light of truth therefrom is wisdom; while in the spiritual kingdom there is love towards the neighbor, which is called charity, and the light of truth therefrom is intelligence, which is also called faith (see above, n. ). the quarters differ also in the two kingdoms by thirty degrees, as has been said just above (n. ). . in like order the angels in each society in heaven dwell in relation to one another-towards the east there those who are in greater degree of love and charity, towards the west those who are in less degree; towards the south those who are in greater light of wisdom and intelligence, and towards the north those who are in less. this arrangement prevails because each society represents heaven, and is a heaven in a smaller form (see above, n. - ). the same arrangement prevails in their assemblies. they are brought into this order by virtue of the form of heaven, from which everyone knows his own place. the lord also provides that there be in each society those of every kind, for the reason that in form heaven is every where like itself; and yet the arrangement of the whole heaven differs from the arrangement of a society as what is general from its parts, since the societies towards the east surpass those towards the west, and those towards the south surpass those towards the north. . because of this the quarters in the heavens signify such things as pertain to those that dwell in them,--the east signifying love and its good clearly perceived, the west the same obscurely perceived, the south wisdom and intelligence in clear light, and the north the same in obscure light. and because of this signification of the quarters in heaven they have a like signification in the internal or spiritual sense of the word,{ } since the internal or spiritual sense of the word is in entire accord with what is in heaven. {footnote } in the word the "east" signifies love clearly perceived (n. , ); the "west" love obscurely perceived (n. , ); the "south" a state of light, that is, of wisdom and intelligence (n. , , ); and the "north" that state in obscurity (n. ). . the reverse is true of those in the hells. those who are there do not look to the lord as a sun nor as a moon; but they look backward away from the lord to that dense darkness that is in the place of the sun of the world, and to the darkness that is in the place of the earth's moon. those that are called genii look to that dense darkness that is in the place of the world's sun, and those called spirits look to the darkness that is in the place of the earth's moon.{ } it has been shown above (n. ) that the world's sun and the earth's moon are not seen in the spiritual world, but in place of that sun a dense darkness over against the sun of heaven, and in place of that moon a darkness over against the moon of heaven. for this reason the quarters with those in the hells are opposite to the quarters of heaven. the east to them is where that dense darkness and darkness are, the west is where the sun of heaven is, the south is to their right, and the north to their left, and this also in every turning of their bodies. nor can they face otherwise, because the whole bent and consequent determination of their interiors tends and strives that way. it has been shown above (n. ) that the bent and consequent actual determination of the interiors of all in the other life are in harmony with their love. the love of those in the hells is the love of self and the world, and these loves are what are signified by the world's sun and the earth's moon (see n. ); and these loves are opposite to love to the lord and love towards the neighbor;{ } and this is the cause of their turning themselves backwards away from the lord to this dense darkness. moreover, those in the hells dwell likewise in accordance with their quarters, those who are in evil from love of self dwelling from their east to their west, and those who are in the falsities of evil from their south to their north. but more will be said about this below, where the hells are treated of. {footnote } who and what those are who are called genii, and who and what those are who are called spirits (n. , , , , , ). {footnote } those that are in the loves of self and of the world turn themselves backwards from the lord (n. , , , ). love to the lord and charity towards the neighbor make heaven, while love of self and love of the world make hell, because the two are opposite (n. , , , , , , , , , , - ). . when an evil spirit comes among good spirits the quarters are usually so confused that the good scarcely know where their east is. this i have sometimes seen take place, and have also heard about it from spirits who complained of it. . evil spirits are sometimes seen turned towards the quarters of heaven; and they then have intelligence and perception of truth, but no affection for good; but as soon as they turn back to their own quarters they have no intelligence or perception of truth; and then they declare that the truths they heard and perceived are falsities and not truths, and they wish falsities to be truths. in respect to this turning i have been told that with the evil the intellectual part of the mind can be so turned, but not the voluntary part; and that this is provided by the lord to the end that everyone may have the ability to see and acknowledge truths, but that no one can receive truths unless he is in good, since it is good, and never evil, that receives them; also that man has a like ability to the end that he may be made better by means of truths. nevertheless, he is made better only so far as he is in good; consequently a man can in like manner be turned to the lord; but if his life is evil he immediately turns himself back and confirms in himself the falsities of his evil, which are contrary to the truths he had understood and seen; and this takes place when he thinks in himself from his interior states. . xvii. changes of state of the angels in heaven. by changes of state of angels their changes in respect to love and faith, and wisdom and intelligence therefrom, are meant, thus their changes in respect to states of life. states are predicated of life and of what belongs to life; and as angelic life is a life of love and faith, and of wisdom and intelligence therefrom, states are predicated of these and are called states of love and faith, and states of wisdom and intelligence. how with angels these states are changed shall now be told. . angels are not constantly in the same state in respect to love, and in consequence in the same state in respect to wisdom; for all their wisdom is from their love and in accordance with their love. sometimes they are in a state of intense love, sometimes in a state of love not so intense. the state decreases by degrees from its greatest degree to its least. when in their greatest degree of love they are in the light and warmth of their life, or in a clear and delightful state; but in their least degree they are in shade and cold, or in an obscure and undelightful state. from this last state they return again to the first, and so on, these alternations following one after another with variety. there is a sequence of these states like the varied states of light and shade, or of heat and cold, or like morning, noon, evening, and night, day after day in the world, with unceasing variety throughout the year. there is also a correspondence, morning corresponding to the state of their love in its clearness, noon to the state of their wisdom in its clearness, evening to the state of their wisdom in its obscurity, and night to a state of no love or wisdom. but it must be understood that there is no correspondence of night with the states of life of those in heaven, although there is what corresponds to the dawn that precedes morning; what corresponds to night is with those in hell.{ } from this correspondence "day" and "year" signify in the word states of life in general; "heat" and "light" signify love and wisdom; "morning" the first and highest degree of love "noon" wisdom in its light; "evening" wisdom in its shade; "dawn" the obscurity that precedes the morning; and "night" the absence of love and wisdom.{ } {footnote } in heaven there is a state corresponding to the dawn that precedes morning, but no state corresponding to night (n. ). the "dawn" signifies a middle state between the last and the first (n. ). {footnote } alternations of state in respect to enlightenment and perception occur in heaven, like the times of day in the world (n. , , , , , ). in the word "day" and "year" signify all states in general (n. , , , , , , , , ). "morning" signifies the beginning of a new state, and a state of love (n. , , , , ). "evening" signifies a state of declining light and love (n. , ). "night" signifies a state of no love or faith (n. , , , , , , ). . together with the state of the angels' interiors which pertain to their love and wisdom, the states of various things that are outside of them and that they see with their eyes are changed; for the things outside of them take on an appearance that is in accord with the things within them. but what things these are, and what kind of things they are, shall be told presently in the chapter on representatives and appearances in heaven. . every angel undergoes and passes through such changes of state, and also every society in general, and yet each one differently, for the reason that they differ in love and wisdom, those in the middle being in a more perfect state than those round about even to the circumference (see above, n. , ). but it would be tedious to specify the differences, since the changes each one undergoes are in accord with the quality of his love and faith. from this it happens that while one may be in clearness and delight another may be in obscurity and lack of delight, and this at the same time within the same society. so, too, the state differs in different societies; it is different in the societies of the celestial kingdom from what it is in those of the spiritual kingdom. these differences in the changes of state are in general like the variations of the states of days in different climates on the earth, for with some it is morning when with others it is evening, and with some it is hot when with others it is cold. . i have been taught from heaven why there are such changes of state there. the angels said that there are many reasons-first, the delight of life and of heaven, which they have from love and wisdom from the lord, would gradually lose its value if they were in it continually, as happens with those that are in allurements and pleasures without variety. a second reason is that angels, as well as men, have what is their own [proprium], which is loving self; and all that are in heaven are withheld from what is their own, and so far as they are withheld from it by the lord are in love and wisdom; but so far as they are not withheld they are in the love of self; and because everyone loves what is his own and is drawn by it{ } they have changes of state or successive alternations. a third reason is that they are in this way perfected, for they thus become accustomed to being held in love to the lord and withheld from love of self; also that by alternations between delight and lack of delight the perception and sense of good becomes more exquisite.{ } the angels added that their changes of state are not caused by the lord, since the lord as a sun is unceasingly flowing in with heat and light, that is, with love and wisdom; but the cause is in themselves, in that they love what is their own, and this continually leads them away. this was illustrated by comparison with the sun of the world, that the cause of the changes of state of heat and cold and of light and shade, year by year and day by day, is not in that sun, since it stands unchanged, but the cause is in the earth. {footnote } man's own [proprium] is loving self (n. , , , ). the lord cannot be present unless what is man's own is set aside (n. , ). it is actually set aside when one is held in good by the lord (n. - , , - , ). {footnote } the angels are being perfected to eternity (n. , ). in the heavens one state is never just like another, and from this there is an unceasing process of perfection (n. ). . i have been shown how the lord as a sun appears to the angels of the celestial kingdom in their first state, in their second state, and in their third state. i saw the lord as a sun, at first glowing and brilliant with a splendor that cannot be described; and i was told that such is the appearance of the lord as a sun to the angels in their first state. afterwards there appeared a great obscure belt about the sun, and by this its first glow and brilliancy, which gave it such splendor, began to be dulled, and i was told that such is the appearance of the sun to them in their second state. then the belt seemed by degrees to grow darker, and the sun to appear less glowing, and this by degrees until at length it took on a shining whiteness; and i was told that such is the appearance of the sun to them in their third state. after this, that shining whiteness was seen to move to the left towards the moon of heaven, and to add itself to her light; and in consequence the moon shone forth with unwonted splendor; and i was told that such is the fourth state of those in the celestial kingdom and the first state of those in the spiritual kingdom, and that in both kingdoms changes of state have such alternations; yet not in the whole kingdom at once, but in one society after another. furthermore, i was told that these alternations are not fixed, but come upon them sooner or later without their knowledge. and it was added that the sun in itself is not thus changed or moved; but it takes on this appearance in accord with their successive progressions of state, since the lord appears to everyone in accord with what his state is, thus glowing when one is in intense love and less glowing and finally shining white as his love subsides; and the quality of each one's state was represented by the obscure belt that induced upon the sun these apparent variations in its glow and light. . when angels are in the last of these states, which is when they are in what is their own, they begin to be sad. i have talked with them when they were in that state and have seen their sadness; but they said that they hoped to return soon to their former state, and thus into heaven again, as it were; for to them it is heaven to be withheld from what is their own. . there are also changes of state in the hells, but these will be described later when hell is treated of. . xviii. time in heaven. although there is a succession and a progression of all things in heaven, as in the world, yet angels have no notion or idea of time and space; and this so completely that they do not even know at all what time and space are. time in heaven will here be considered, and space in its own chapter. . angels do not know what time is, although with them there is a successive progression of all things, as there is in the world, and this so completely that there is no difference whatever; and the reason is that in heaven instead of years and days there are changes of state; and where there are years and days there are times, but where there are changes of state there are states. . in the world there are times because the sun of the world seemingly advances in succession from one degree to another, producing times that are called seasons of the year; and besides, it revolves about the earth, producing times that are called times of day; both of these by fixed alternations. with the sun of heaven it is different. this does not mark years and days by successive progressions and revolutions, but in its appearance it marks changes of state; and this, as has been shown in the preceding chapter, is not done by fixed alternations. consequently no idea of time is possible to angels; but in its place they have an idea of state (see above n. ). . as angels have no idea derived from time, such as men in the world have, so neither do they have any idea about time and what pertains to it. they do not even know what is meant by the terms of time, such as year, month, week, day, hour, to-day, to-morrow, yesterday. when angels hear these terms used by man (for angels are always associated with man by the lord) in place of them they perceive state and what pertains to states. thus the natural thought of man is turned into spiritual thought with angels. this is why times in the word signify states, and the terms of time, as enumerated above, signify corresponding spiritual things.{ } {footnote } times in the word signify states (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). angels think apart from the idea of time and space (n. ); the reasons why (n. , , , , , , , ). what a "year" signifies in the word (n. , , , , , , ). what a "month" (n. ). what a "week" (n. , ). what a "day" (n. , , , , , , , , ). what "today" (n. , , , , , ). what "to-morrow" (n. , ). what "yesterday" (n. , , ). . the like is true of all things that exist from time, as the four seasons of the year, called spring, summer, autumn, and winter; the four periods of the day, morning, noon, evening, and night; and the four ages of man, infancy, youth, manhood, and old age; and all other things that either exist from time or have a succession in accordance with time. in thinking of these a man thinks from time, but an angel from state; and in consequence what there is in them from time with man is with the angels turned into an idea of state. spring and morning are turned into an idea of the state of love and wisdom such as they are in angels in their first state; summer and noon are turned into an idea of love and wisdom such as they are in the second state; autumn and evening such as they are in the third state; night and winter into an idea of such a state as exists in hell. this is why these periods have a like significance in the word (see above, n. ). this makes clear how natural things in the thought of man become spiritual with the angels who are with man. . as angels have no notion of time so they have an idea of eternity different from that which men on the earth have. eternity means to the angels infinite state, not infinite time.{ } i was once thinking about eternity, and was able, with the idea of time, to perceive what to eternity means, namely, without end, but not what from eternity means, thus not what god did from eternity before creation. when anxiety on this account arose in my mind i was raised up into the sphere of heaven, and thus into the perception that angels have in respect to eternity; and it was then made clear to me that eternity must be thought of, not from time but from state; and then the meaning of from eternity can be seen. this then happened to me. {footnote } men have an idea of eternity associated with time, but angels apart from time (n. , , ). . when angels speak with men they never express themselves in natural ideas proper to man, all of which are from time, space, matter, and things analogous thereto, but in spiritual ideas, all of which are from states and their various changes within the angels and outside of them. nevertheless, when these angelic ideas, which are spiritual, flow into men, they are turned in a moment and of themselves into natural ideas proper to man, that correspond perfectly to the spiritual ideas. neither angels nor men know that this takes place; but such is all influx of heaven into man. certain angels were permitted to enter more nearly into my thoughts, even into the natural thoughts in which there were many things from time and space; but as they then understood nothing they suddenly withdrew; and after they had withdrawn i heard them talking, and saying that they had been in darkness. [ ] it has been granted me to know by experience how ignorant the angels are about time. there was a certain one from heaven who was able to enter into natural ideas, such as man has; and after he had done this i talked with him as man with man. at first he did not know what it was that i called time, and i was therefore obliged to tell him all about it, how the sun appears to be carried about our earth, and to produce years and days, and how years are thereby divided into four seasons, and also into months and weeks, and days into twenty-four hours; and how these times recur by fixed alternations, and how this is the source of times. on hearing this he was surprised, saying that he knew nothing about such things, but only what states are. [ ] in speaking with him i added that it is known in the world, for men speak as if they knew that there is no time in heaven, saying of those who die that they "leave the things of time," and that they "pass out of time," meaning by this out of the world. i said also that some know that times in their origin are states, for they know that times are in exact accord with the states of their affections, short to those who are in pleasant and joyous states, long to those who are in unpleasant and sorrowful states, and various in a state of hope and expectation; and this therefore leads learned men to inquire what time and space are, and some know that time belongs to the natural man. . the natural man might think that he would be deprived of all thought if the ideas of time, space, and material things were taken away; for upon these all the thought of man rests.{ } but let him know that so far as thoughts partake of time, space, and matter they are limited and confined, but are unlimited and extended so far as they do not partake of these, since the mind is in that measure raised above bodily and worldly things. this is the source of wisdom to the angels; and such wisdom as is called incomprehensible, because it does not fall into ideas that are wholly made up of what is material. {footnote } man does not think, as angels do, apart from the idea of time (n. ). . xix. representatives and appearances in heaven. the man who thinks from natural light alone is unable to comprehend that there is any thing in heaven like what is in the world; and for the reason that from natural light he has previously thought, and established himself in the idea, that angels are nothing but minds, and that minds are like ethereal breaths, having no senses like those of men, thus no eyes, and if no eyes no objects of sight; and yet the angels have every sense that a man has, and far more exquisite senses; and the light by which angels see is far brighter than the light by which man sees. that angels are men in the most complete form, and enjoy every sense, may be seen above (n. - ); and that the light in heaven is far brighter than the light in the world (n. - ). . the nature of the objects that are visible to angels in heaven cannot be described in a few words. for the most part they are like things on earth, but in form far more perfect, and in number more abundant. that such things exist in the heavens is evident from things seen by the prophets,--as by ezekiel in relation to the new temple and the new earth (as described from chaps. to ); by daniel (from chap. to ); by john (from the first chapter of the apocalypse to the last); and by others, as described both in the historic and the prophetic part of the word. these things were seen by them when heaven was open to them, and heaven is said to be opened when the interior sight, which is the sight of man's spirit, is opened. for what is in the heavens cannot be seen by the eyes of a man's body, but are seen by the eyes of his spirit; and when it seems good to the lord these are opened, and man is then withdrawn from the natural light that he is in from the bodily senses and is raised up into spiritual light, which he is in from his spirit. in that light the things in heaven have been seen by me. . but although the things seen in heaven are in large part like those on the earth, in essence they are unlike them; for the things in heaven come forth from the sun of heaven, and those on the earth from the sun of the world. the things that come forth from the sun of heaven are called spiritual; those that come forth from the sun of the world are called natural. . the things that come forth in heaven do not come forth in the same manner as those on the earth. all things in heaven come forth from the lord in correspondence with the interiors of the angels. for angels have both interiors and exteriors. all things in their interiors have relation to love and faith, thus to the will and understanding, since the will and understanding are their receptacles; while their exteriors correspond to their interiors. that exterior things correspond to interior things may be seen above (n. - ). this is illustrated by what has been said above about the heat and light of heaven, that angels have heat in accordance with the quality of their love, and light in accordance with the quality of their wisdom (n. - ). the like is true of all other things that present themselves to the senses of angels. . when i have been permitted to be in company with angels, the things there appeared precisely the same as those in the world; and so plainly that i would not have known that i was not in the world and in a king's palace. i also talked with the angels as man with man. . as all things that correspond to interiors also represent them they are called representatives; and as they differ in each case in accordance with the state of the interiors they are called appearances. nevertheless, the things that appear before the eyes of angels in heaven and are perceived by their senses appear to their eyes and senses as fully living as things on earth appear to man, and even much more clearly, distinctly and perceptibly. appearances from this source in heaven are called real appearances, because they have real existence. there are appearances also that are not real, which are things that become visible, but do not correspond to interiors.{ } these will be treated of further on. {footnote } all things that are visible to the angels are representative (n. , - , , , , , , , , ). the heavens are full of representatives (n. , , ). the representatives are more beautiful as they are more interior in the heavens (n. ). as the representatives there are from the light of heaven they are real appearances (n. ). the divine influx is turned into representatives in the higher heavens, and therefrom in the lower heavens also (n. , , , , , ). those things are called representative that appear before the eyes of the angels in such form as are in nature, that is, such as are in the world (n. ). internal things are thus turned into external (n. , - ). what representatives in the heavens are; this made clear by various examples (n. , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). all things seen in the heavens are in accordance with correspondences and are called representatives (n. - , , , , , , , ). all things that correspond also represent and likewise signify what they correspond to (n. , , - , , ). . to show what the things are that appear to the angels in accordance with correspondences, i will here mention one only for the sake of illustration. by those who are intelligent, gardens and parks full of trees and flowers of every kind are seen. the trees are planted in a most beautiful order, combined to form arbors with arched approaches and encircling walks, all more beautiful than words can describe. there the intelligent walk, and gather flowers and weave garlands with which they adorn little children. moreover, there are kinds of trees and flowers there that are never seen and cannot exist on earth. the trees bear fruit that are in accordance with the good of love, in which the intelligent are. these things are seen by them because a garden or park and fruit trees and flowers correspond to intelligence and wisdom.{ } that there are such things in heaven is known also on the earth, but only to those who are in good, and who have not extinguished in themselves the light of heaven by means of natural light and its fallacies; for when such think about heaven they think and say that there are such things there as ear hath not heard and eye hath not seen. {footnote } a "garden" or "park" signifies intelligence and wisdom (n. , , ). what is meant by "the garden of eden" and "the garden of jehovah" (n. , , ). how magnificent the things seen in parks are in the other life (n. , , , , ). "trees" signify perceptions and knowledges, from which wisdom and intelligence are derived (n. , , , , , ). "fruits" signify goods of love and goods of charity (n. , , ). . xx. the garments with which angels appear clothed. since angels are men, and live among themselves as men do on the earth, they have garments and dwellings and other such things, with the difference, however, that as they are in a more perfect state all things with them are in greater perfection. for as angelic wisdom surpasses human wisdom to such a degree as to be called ineffable, so is it with all things that are perceived and seen by angels, inasmuch as all things perceived and seen by them correspond to their wisdom (see above, n. ). . the garments with which angels are clothed, like all other things with them, correspond; and because they correspond they have real existence (see above n. ). their garments correspond to their intelligence, and therefore all in the heavens appear clothed in accordance with their intelligence; and as one is more intelligent than another so the garments of one surpass those of another. the most intelligent have garments that blaze as if with flame, others have garments that glisten as if with light; the less intelligent have garments that are glistening white or white without the effulgence; and the still less intelligent have garments of various colors. but the angels of the inmost heaven are not clothed. . as the garments of angels correspond to their intelligence they correspond also to truth, since all intelligence is from divine truth; and therefore it is the same thing whether you say that angels are clothed in accordance with intelligence or in accordance with divine truth. the garments of some blaze as if with flame, and those of others glisten as if with light, because flame corresponds to good, and light corresponds to truth from good.{ } some have garments that are glistening white and white without the effulgence, and others garments of various colors, because with the less intelligent the divine good and truth are less effulgent, and are also received in various ways,{ } glistening white and white corresponding to truth,{ } and colors to its varieties.{ } those in the inmost heaven are not clothed, because they are in innocence, and innocence corresponds to nakedness.{ } {footnote } from correspondence "garments" in the word signify truths (n. , , , , , , , ). for the reason that truths clothe good (n. ). a "covering" signifies something intellectual, because the intellect is the recipient of truth (n. ). "shining garments of fine linen" signify truths from the divine (n. , ). "flame" signifies spiritual good, and the light therefrom truth from that good (n. , ). {footnote } angels and spirits appear clothed with garments in accordance with their truths, thus in accordance with their intelligence (n. , , , , , , , ). the garments of some angels are resplendent, others are not (n. ). {footnote } in the word "glistening white" and "white" signify truth because they are from light in heaven (n. , , ). {footnote } colors in heaven are variegations of the light there (n. , , , , , , , ). colors signify various things pertaining to intelligence and wisdom (n. , , , ). the precious stones in the urim and thummim signified, in accordance with their colors, all things of truth from good in the heavens (n. , , ). so far as colors partake of red they signify good; so far as they partake of white they signify truth (n. ). {footnote } all in the inmost heavens are innocences, and in consequence appear naked (n. , , , , , , ). innocence is presented in heaven as nakedness (n. , , ). to the innocent and the chaste nakedness is no shame, because without offence (n. , , ). . as in heaven the angels are clothed with garments, so when seen in the world they have appeared clothed with garments, as those seen by the prophets and those seen at the lord's sepulchre: whose appearance was as lightning, and their garments glistening and white (matt. : ; mark : ; luke : ; john : , ); and those seen in heaven by john: who had garments of fine linen and white (apoc. : ; : ). and because intelligence is from divine truth: the garments of the lord, when he was transfigured, were radiant and glistening white like the light (matt. : ; mark : ; luke : ). as light is divine truth going forth from the lord (see above, n. ), so in the word garments signify truths and intelligence from truths, as in the apocalypse: those that have not defiled their garments shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy. he that overcometh shall be clothed in white garments ( : , ); blessed is he that is awake and keepeth his garments ( : ). and of jerusalem, which means a church that is in truth,{ } it is written in isaiah: awake, put on thy strength, o zion; put on the garments of thy beauty, o jerusalem ( : ). and in ezekiel: jerusalem, i girded thee about with fine linen, and covered thee with silk. thy garments were of fine linen and silk ( : , ); besides many other passages. but he who is not in truths is said "not to be clothed with a wedding garment," as in matthew: when the king came in he saw a man that had not on a wedding garment; and he said unto him, friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? wherefore he was cast out into the outer darkness ( : - ). the house of the wedding feast means heaven and the church because of the conjunction of the lord with heaven and the church by means of his divine truth; and for this reason the lord is called in the word the bridegroom and husband; and heaven, with the church, is called the bride and the wife. {footnote } "jerusalem" signifies a church in which there is genuine doctrine (n. , , ). . that the garments of angels do not merely appear as garments, but are real garments, is evident from the fact that angels both see them and feel them, that they have many garments, and that they put them off and put them on, that they care for those that are not in use, and put them on again when they need them. that they are clothed with a variety of garments i have seen a thousand times. when i asked where they got their garments, they said from the lord, and that they receive them as gifts, and sometimes they are clothed with them unconsciously. they said also that their garments are changed in accordance with their changes of state, that in the first and second state their garments are shining and glistening white, and in the third and fourth state a little less bright; and this likewise from correspondence, because their changes of state have respect to intelligence and wisdom (of which see above, n. , ). . as everyone in the spiritual world has garments in accordance with his intelligence, that is, in accordance with truths which are the source of intelligence, so those in the hells, because they have no truths, appear clothed in garments, but in ragged, squalid, and filthy garments, each one in accordance with his insanity; and they can be clothed in no others. it is granted them by the lord to be clothed, lest they be seen naked. . xxi. the places of abode and dwellings of angels. as there are societies in heaven and the angels live as men, they have also places of abode, and these differ in accordance with each one's state of life. they are magnificent for those in higher dignity, and less magnificent for those in lower condition. i have frequently talked with angels about the places of abode in heaven, saying that scarcely any one will believe at the present day that they have places of abode and dwellings; some because they do not see them, some because they do not know that angels are men, and some because they believe that the angelic heaven is the heaven that they see with their eyes around them, and as this appears empty and they suppose that angels are ethereal forms, they conclude that they live in ether. moreover, they do not comprehend how there can be such things in the spiritual world as there are in the natural world, because they know nothing about the spiritual. [ ] the angels replied that they are aware that such ignorance prevails at this day in the world, and to their astonishment, chiefly within the church, and more with the intelligent than with those whom they call simple. they said also that it might be known from the word that angels are men, since those that have been seen have been seen as men; and the lord, who took all his human with him, appeared in like manner. it might be known also that as angels are men they have dwellings and places of abode, and do not fly about in air, as some think in their ignorance, which the angels call insanity, and that although they are called spirits they are not winds. this they said might be apprehended if men would only think independently of their acquired notions about angels and spirits, as they do when they are not bringing into question and submitting to direct thought whether it is so. for everyone has a general idea that angels are in the human form, and have homes which are called the mansions of heaven, which surpass in magnificence earthly dwellings; but this general idea, which flows in from heaven, at once falls to nothing when it is brought under direct scrutiny and inquiry whether it is so, as happens especially with the learned, who by their own intelligence have closed up heaven to themselves and the entrance of heavenly light. [ ] the like is true of the belief in the life of man after death. when one speaks of it, not thinking at the same time about the soul from the light of worldly learning or from the doctrine of its reunion with the body, he believes that after death he is to live a man, and among angels if he has lived well, and that he will then see magnificent things and perceive joys; but as soon as he turns his thoughts to the doctrine of reunion with the body, or to his theory about the soul, and the question arises whether the soul be such, and thus whether this can be true, his former idea is dissipated. . but it is better to present the evidence of experience. whenever i have talked with angels face to face, i have been with them in their abodes. these abodes are precisely like abodes on the earth which we call houses, but more beautiful. in them there are chambers, parlors, and bedrooms in great number; there are also courts, and there are gardens and flower beds and lawns round about. where they live together their houses are near each other, arranged one next to the other in the form of a city, with avenues, streets, and public squares, exactly like cities on the earth. i have been permitted to pass through them, looking about on every side, and sometimes entering the houses. this occurred when my inner sight was opened, and i was fully awake.{ } {footnote } angels have cities, palaces and houses (n. - , , - , ). . i have seen palaces in heaven of such magnificence as cannot be described. above they glittered as if made of pure gold, and below as if made of precious stones, some more splendid than others. it was the same within. both words and knowledge are inadequate to describe the decorations that adorned the rooms. on the side looking to the south there were parks, where, too, everything shone, in some places the leaves glistening as if made of silver, and fruit as if made of gold; while the flowers in their beds formed rainbows with their colors. beyond the borders, where the view terminated, were seen other palaces. such is the architecture of heaven that you would say that art there is in its art; and no wonder, because the art itself is from heaven. the angels said that such things and innumerable others still more perfect are presented before their eyes by the lord; and yet these things are more pleasing to their minds than to their eyes, because in everyone of them they see a correspondence, and through the correspondences what is divine. . as to these correspondences i have also been told that not only the palaces and houses, but all things and each thing, both inside and outside of them, correspond to the interior things which they have from the lord, the house itself in general corresponding to their good, the particular things inside of a house to the various things of which their good consists,{ } and the things outside to truths derived from good, and also to their perceptions and knowledges { } and as these things correspond to the goods and truths they have from the lord they correspond to their love, and to their wisdom and intelligence from love, since love belongs to good, wisdom to good and truth together, and intelligence to truth from good. these are what the angels perceive when they behold what is around them, and thus their minds are more delighted and moved by them than their eyes. {footnote } "houses," with their contents, signify the things in man that belong to his mind, thus his interiors (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ); consequently the things relating to good and truth (n. , , , , , ). "rooms" and "bed-chambers" signify interior things there (n. , , ). the "roof of a house" signifies what is inmost (n. , ). a "house of wood" signifies what relates to good, and a "house of stone" what relates to truth (n. ). {footnote } a "garden" or "park" signifies intelligence and wisdom (n. , , ). what is meant by "the garden of eden" and "the garden of jehovah" (n. , , ). how magnificent the things seen in parks are in the other life (n. , , , , ). "trees" signify perceptions and knowledges, from which wisdom and intelligence are derived (n. , , , , , ). "fruits" signify goods of love and goods of charity (n. , , ). . this makes clear why the lord called himself the temple at jerusalem (john : , ),{ } namely, because the temple represented his divine human; also why the new jerusalem was seen to be of pure gold, its gates of pearls, and its foundations of precious stones (apoc. ), namely, because the new jerusalem signifies the church which was afterwards to be established, the twelve gates its truths leading to good, and the foundations the truths on which the church is founded.{ } {footnote } in the highest sense "the house of god" signifies the lord's divine human in respect to divine good, and "the temple" the same in respect to divine truth; and in a relative sense, heaven and the church in respect to good and truth (n. ). {footnote } "jerusalem" signifies the church in which is genuine doctrine (n. , , ). "gates" signify introduction to the doctrine of the church, and through doctrine introduction into the church (n. , , ). "foundation" signifies the truth on which heaven, the church, and doctrine are founded (n. ). . the angels of whom the lord's celestial kingdom consists dwell for the most part in elevated places that appear as mountains of soil; the angels of whom the lord's spiritual kingdom consists dwell in less elevated places that appear like hills; while the angels in the lowest parts of heaven dwell in places that appear like ledges of stone. these things spring from correspondence, for interior things correspond to higher things, and exterior things to lower things;{ } and this is why in the word "mountains" signify celestial love, "hills" spiritual love, and "rocks" faith.{ } {footnote } in the word what is interior is expressed by what is higher and what is higher signifies what is interior (n. , , , , ). what is "high" signifies what is internal, and likewise heaven (n. , , , , ). {footnote } in heaven, mountains, hills, rocks, valleys, and lands are seen exactly the same as in the world (n. ). on the mountains angels who are in the good of love dwell, on the hills those who are in the good of charity, on the rocks those who are in the good of faith (n. ). therefore in the word "mountains" signify the good of love (n. , , , , , , ). "hills" signify the good of charity (n. , ). "rocks" signify the good and truth of faith (n. , ). "stone," of which rock consists, in like manner signifies the truth of faith (n. , , , , , , ). this is why "mountains" signify heaven (n. , , ). and "the summit of a mountain" signifies the highest part of heaven (n. , , ). also why the ancients had their holy worship on mountains (n. , ). . there are also angels who do not live associated together, but apart, house by house. these dwell in the midst of heaven, since they are the best of angels. . the houses in which angels dwell are not erected, as houses in the world are, but are given to them gratuitously by the lord, to everyone in accordance with his reception of good and truth. they also change a little in accordance with changes of the state of interiors of the angels (of which above, n. - ). everything whatsoever that the angels possess they hold as received from the lord; and everything they have need of is given them. . xxii. space in heaven. all things in heaven appear, just as in the world, to be in place and in space, and yet the angels have no notion or idea of place and space. as this must needs sounds like a paradox, i will endeavor to present the matter in a clear light, as it is of great importance. . all changes of place in the spiritual world are effected by changes of state of the interiors, which means that change of place is nothing else than change of state.{ } in this way i have been taken by the lord into the heavens and also to the earths in the universe; and it was my spirit that so journeyed, while my body remained in the same place.{ } such are all movements of the angels; and in consequence they have no distances, and having no distances they have no spaces, but in place of spaces they have states and their changes. {footnote } in the word places and spaces signify states (n. , , , , , ); from experience (n. , , - , , , , ). distance signifies difference of state of life (n. , ). in the spiritual world movements and changes of place are changes of the state of life, because they originate in these (n. - , , , ). the same is true of journeyings (n. , ); illustrated by experience (n. - , ). for this reason "to journey" signifies in the word to live and progress in life; and "to sojourn has a like meaning (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). to go with the lord means to live with him (n. ). {footnote } man may be led a long distance in respect to his spirit by means of changes of state, while his body remains in its place, also from experience (n. , , ). what it is to be "led by the spirit to another place" (n. ). . as changes of place are thus effected it is evident that approaches are likenesses of state of the interiors, and separations are unlikenesses; and for this reason those are near each other who are in like states, and those are at a distance who are in unlike states; and spaces in heaven are simply the external conditions corresponding to the internal states. for the same reason the heavens are distinct from each other, also the societies of each heaven and the individuals in each society; and this is why also that the hells are entirely separated from the heavens, because they are in a contrary state. . for the same reason, again, any one in the spiritual world who intensely desires the presence of another comes into his presence, for he thereby sees him in thought, and puts himself in his state; and conversely, one is separated from another so far as he is averse to him. and since all aversion comes from contrariety of affection and from disagreement of thought, whenever in that world several are together in one place they are visible [to one another] so long as they agree, but vanish as soon as they disagree. . again, when any one goes from one place to another, whether it be in his own city, or in courts or in gardens, or to others out of his own society, he arrives more quickly when he eagerly desires it, and less quickly when he does not, the way itself being lengthened and shortened in accordance with the desire, although it remains the same. this i have often seen to my surprise. all this again makes clear how distances, and consequently spaces, are wholly in accord with states of the interiors of the angels;{ } and this being so, no notion or idea of space can enter their thought, although there are spaces with them equally as in the world. {footnote } places and spaces are presented to the sight in accordance with the states of the interiors of angels and spirits (n. , , ). . this can be illustrated by the thoughts of man, in that space does not pertain to thought, for whatever is thought of intently is set before one as present. again, whoever reflects about it knows that his sight recognizes space only by intermediate objects on the earth that are seen at the same time, or by recalling what he already knows about the distance. this happens because of the continuity; and in what is continuous there is no appearance of distance except from things not continuous. this is even more true of the angels, because their sight acts as one with their thought, and their thought acts as one with their affection, and things appear near or remote, and also varied, in accordance with the states of their interiors, as has been said above. . it follows from this that in the word places and spaces, and all things that in any way relate to space, signify such things as relate to states, such as distances, near, far off, ways, journeys, sojourning, miles and furlongs, plains, fields, gardens, cities and streets, motions, measures of various kinds, long, broad, high, and deep, and innumerable other things; for most things in man's thought from the world take on something from space and time. [ ] i will mention here only what is signified in the word by length, breadth, and height. in this world, that is called long or broad which is long or broad in relation to space, and the same is true of height. but in heaven, where there is no thought from space, length means a state of good, breadth a state of truth, and height the distinction between them in accordance with degrees (see n. ). such is the meaning of these three dimensions, because length in heaven is from east to west, and those that dwell there are in good of love; while breadth in heaven is from south to north, and those that dwell there are in truth from good (see n. ); while height in heaven applies to both of these in respect to degrees. this is why length, breadth, and height have these significations in the word, as in ezekiel (from chap. to ), where the new temple and the new earth, with the courts, chambers, gates, doors, windows, and surroundings are described by measures giving the length, breadth, and height, by which a new church, and the goods and truths that are in it are signified. otherwise to what purpose would be all those measures? [ ] in like manner the new jerusalem is described in the apocalypse in these words: the city lieth foursquare, and the length thereof is as great as the breadth; and he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs; the length, the breadth, and the height are equal ( : ). because "the new jerusalem" here signifies a new church these measures signify the things of the church, "length" its good of love, "breadth" truth from that good, "height" good and truth in respect to degrees, "twelve thousand furlongs" all good and truth in the complex. otherwise, how could there be said to be a height of twelve thousand furlongs, the same as the length and the breadth? that "breadth" in the word signifies truth is evident from david:- jehovah, thou hast not shut me up into the hand of the enemy, thou hast made my feet to stand in a broad place (psalm : ). out of straitness i called upon jah; he answereth me in a broad place (psalm : ). besides other passages (as in isaiah : ; and in habakkuk : ). so in all other cases. . from all this it can be seen that although there are spaces in heaven as in the world, still nothing there is reckoned in accordance with spaces but in accordance with states; and in consequence spaces there cannot be measured as in the world, but can be seen only from the state and in accordance with the state of the interiors there.{ } {footnote } in the word length signifies good (n. , ). "breadth" signifies truth (n. , , , , , ). height signifies good and truth in respect to their degrees (n. , , ). . the primary and veriest cause of this is that the lord is present with everyone in the measure of his love and faith,{ } and that it is in accordance with the lord's presence that all things appear near or far away, for it is from this that all things in the heavens are determined. also it is through this that angels have wisdom, for it is through this that they have extension of thought and through this a sharing of all things in the heavens; in a word, it is through this that they think spiritually, and not naturally like men. {footnote } the conjunction and presence of the lord with the angels is according to their reception of love and charity from him (n. , , , , , , , , - , , , , ). . xxiii. the form of heaven which determines affiliations and communications there. what the form of heaven is can be seen in some measure from what has been shown in the preceding chapters; as that heaven is like itself both in its greatest and in its least divisions (n. ); that consequently each society is a heaven in a lesser form, and each angel in the least form (n. - ); that as the entire heaven reflects a single man, so each society of heaven reflects a man in a lesser form, and each angel in the least form (n. - ); that the wisest are at the center, and the less wise are round about even to the borders, and the like is true of each society (n. ); and that those who are in the good of love dwell from the east to the west in heaven, and those who are in truths from good from the south to the north; and the same is true of each society (n. , ). all this is in accord with the form of heaven; consequently it may be concluded from this what this form is in general.{ } {footnote } the entire heaven in respect to all angelic societies, is arranged by the lord in accordance with his divine order, since it is the divine of the lord with the angels that makes heaven (n. , , , , , , ). concerning the heavenly form (n. - , , ). . it is important to know what the form of heaven is, because not only is all affiliation there in accordance with it, but also all mutual communication, and in consequence of this all extension of thoughts and affections, and thus all the intelligence and wisdom of angels. from this it follows that each one there is wise just to the extent that he is in the form of heaven, and is thus a form of heaven. it makes no difference whether you say in the form of heaven, or in the order of heaven, since the form of any thing is from its order and in accordance with its order.{ } {footnote } the form of heaven is a form in accordance with the divine order (n. - , , ). . let us consider first what is meant by being in the form of heaven. man was created both in the image of heaven and in the image of the world; his internal in the image of heaven, and his external in the image of the world (see above, n. ); and in the image means the same thing as in accordance with the form. but as man by the evils of his will and consequent falsities of thought has destroyed in himself the image of heaven, that is, the form of heaven, and in place of it has brought in the image and form of hell, his internal is closed up from his very birth; and this is why man is born into pure ignorance, while animals of every kind are not. and that man may have the image of heaven or form of heaven restored to him he must be taught the things that pertain to order; since form, as has been said, is in accord with order. the word contains all the laws of divine order, for its precepts are the laws of divine order; therefore to the extent that man knows these and lives in accordance with them his internal is opened and the order or image of heaven is there formed anew. this makes clear what is meant by being in the form of heaven, namely, that it is to live in accordance with those things that are in the word.{ } {footnote } divine truths are the laws of order (n. , ). man is a man to the extent that he lives in accordance with order, that is, to the extent that he is in good in accordance with divine truths (n. , , ). all things of divine order are gathered up in man and he is from creation divine order in form (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). man is not born into good and truth, but into evil and falsity, that is, into the opposite of divine order, and consequently into pure ignorance; and for this reason he must needs be born anew that is, be regenerated, which is effected by means of divine truths from the lord, that he may be introduced into order (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). when the lord forms man anew, that is, regenerates him, he arranges all things in him in accordance with order, which means, into the form of heaven (n. , , , ). . so far as any one is in the form of heaven he is in heaven, and is, in fact, a heaven in the least form (n. ); consequently he is to the same extent in intelligence and wisdom; for as has been said above, all the thought of his understanding and all the affection of his will extend themselves on every side into heaven in accord with its form, and wonderfully communicate with the societies there, and these in turn with him.{ } [ ] there are some who do not believe that thoughts and affections really extend themselves around about them, but believe that they are within them, because whatever they think they see within in themselves, and not as distant; but such are greatly mistaken. for as the sight of the eye has extension to remote objects, and is affected in accordance with the order of the things seen in that extension, so the interior sight, which is that of the understanding, has a like extension in the spiritual world, although not perceived by man, for the reason given above (n. ). the only difference is that the sight of the eye is affected in a natural way, because it is affected by the things in the natural world, while the sight of the understanding is affected in a spiritual way, because by the things in the spiritual world, all of which have relation to good and truth; and man's ignorance of this is because of his not knowing that there is any light that enlightens the understanding; and yet without the light that enlightens the understanding man could not think at all (of which light see above, n. - ). [ ] there was a certain spirit who believed that his thought was from himself, thus without any extension outside of himself and communication thereby with societies outside of him. that he might learn that this was not true his communication with neighboring societies was cut off, and in consequence, not only was he deprived of thought but he fell down as if lifeless, although tossing his arms about like a new-born infant. after a while the communication was restored to him, and then as it was gradually restored he returned into the state of his thought. [ ] when other spirits had seen this they confessed that all thought and affection, and in consequence, everything of life, flow in in accordance with communication, since everything of man's life consists in his ability to think and be moved by affection, or what is the same, in his ability to understand and will.{ } {footnote } everyone in heaven has communication of life, which may be called its extension into angelic societies round about, according to the quantity and quality of his good (n. , ). thoughts and affections have such extension (n. , - ). they are united and separated in accordance with the ruling affections (n. ). {footnote } there is only one life, from which all, both in heaven and in the world, live (n. , , , , - , , , , , ). that life is from the lord above (n. - , , , , , , , , , - , , ). it flows into angels, spirits, and men, in a wonderful manner (n. - , , , , ). the lord flows in from his divine love, which is such that what is its own it wills should be another's (n. , ). for this reason life appears to be in man, and not flowing in (n. , ). of the joy of angels, perceived and confirmed by what they told me, because of their not living from themselves but from the lord (n. ). the evil are unwilling to be convinced that life flows in (n. ). life from the lord flows in also with the evil (n. , , , ). but they turn good into evil, and truth into falsity; for such as man is such is his reception of life illustrated (n. , , ). . but let it be understood that intelligence and wisdom vary with everyone in accordance with this communication, those whose intelligence and wisdom are formed out of genuine truths and goods having communication with societies in accordance with the form of heaven; while those whose intelligence and wisdom are not formed out of genuine truths and goods, and yet out of what is in accord therewith, have a broken and variously coherent communication, since it is not with societies that are in a series in which there is a form of heaven. on the other hand, those that are not in intelligence and wisdom, because they are in falsities from evil, have communication with societies in hell; and their extension is determined by the degree of their confirmation. let it also be known that this communication with societies is not such a communication with them as is clearly perceptible to those there, but is a communication with what they really are, which is in them and flows from them.{ } {footnote } thought pours itself into societies of spirits and of angels round about (n. - ). still it does not move or disturb the thoughts of the societies (n. , ). . there is an affiliation of all in heaven in accordance with spiritual relationships, that is, relationships of good and truth in their order. it is so in the whole heaven; so in each society, and so in each house. because of this angels who are in like good and truth recognize each other, as relatives by blood and marriage do on the earth, precisely as if they had been acquainted from infancy. the good and truth in each angel, which constitute his wisdom and intelligence, are affiliated in like manner; they recognize each other in like manner, and as they recognize each other they join themselves together;{ } and in consequence those in whom truths and goods are thus joined in accordance with a form of heaven see things following one another in series, and how they cohere widely round about; but those in whom goods and truths are not conjoined in accordance with the form of heaven do not see this. {footnote } good recognizes its truth, and truth its good (n. , , , , , , , , , ). in this way good and truth are conjoined (n. , , , , , , , , , - , - , , , ). this is effected by influx from heaven (n. ). . in each heaven there is such a form, and in accordance with it the angels have communication and extension of thoughts and affections, and thus in accordance with it they have intelligence and wisdom. but the communication of one heaven with another is different, that is, of the third or inmost with the second or middle, and of this with the first or outmost. but the communication between the heavens should not be called communication but influx. about this something shall now be said. that there are three heavens distinct from each other can be seen above in its own chapter (n. - ). . that between one heaven and another there is influx but not communication can be seen from their relative position. the third or inmost heaven is above, the second or middle heaven is below, and the first or outmost heaven is still lower. there is a like arrangement in all the societies in each heaven, for example, some dwell on elevated places that appear like mountains (n. ); on the top of which those of the inmost heaven dwell; below these are the societies of the second heaven, below these again the societies of the outmost heaven. the same is true every where, both in elevated places and in those not elevated. a society of a higher heaven has no communication with a society of a lower except by correspondences (see above, n. ); and communication by correspondences is what is called influx. . one heaven is joined with another, or a society of one heaven with the society of another, by the lord alone, both by direct and by mediate influx, directly from himself, and mediately through the higher heavens in order into the lower.{ } as the conjunction of the heavens by this inflowing is from the lord alone there is a most careful precaution against any angel of a higher heaven looking down into a society of a lower heaven and talking with any one there; for the angel is thus immediately deprived of his intelligence and wisdom. the reason of this also shall be told. as there are three degrees of heaven, so each angel has three degrees of life, those in the inmost heaven having the third or inmost degree open, while the second and first degrees are closed; those in the middle heaven have the second degree opened and the first and third closed; and those in the lowest heaven have the first degree opened and the second and third closed. consequently, as soon as an angel of the third heaven looks down into a society of the second heaven and talks with any one there his third degree is at once closed; and as his wisdom resides in that degree, if that is closed he is deprived of his wisdom, for he has none in the second or first degree. this is what is meant by the words of the lord in matthew: he that is on the housetop, let him not go down to take what is in his house; and he that is in the field, let him not turn back to take his garment ( : , ). and in luke: in that day he that shall be on the housetop and his goods in the house, let him not go down to take them away; and he that is in the field let him not turn back. remember lot's wife ( : , ). {footnote } there is direct influx from the lord and mediate influx through heaven (n. , , , , ). there is a direct influx of the lord into the minutest parts of all things (n. , - , , ). of the mediate influx of the lord through the heavens (n. , , , ). . no influx is possible from the lower heavens into the higher, because this is contrary to order; but there is influx from the higher heavens into the lower. moreover, the wisdom of the angels of a higher heaven surpasses the wisdom of the angels of a lower heaven as a myriad to one; and this is another reason why the angels of a lower heaven cannot converse with those of a higher heaven; and in fact when they look towards them they do not see them, the higher heaven appearing like a cloudy something over their heads. but the angels of a higher heaven can see those in a lower heaven, although if permitted to talk with them they would lose their wisdom, as has been said above. . the thoughts and affections as well as the speech of the angels of the inmost heaven are never perceived in the middle heaven, because they so transcend what is there. but when it pleases the lord there is seen in the lower heavens from that source something like a flame, and from the thoughts and affections in the middle heaven there is seen in the outmost heaven something luminous, and sometimes a cloud glowing white and variegated. from that cloud, its ascent, descent, and form, what is being said there is in some measure known. . from all this it can be seen what the form of heaven is, namely, that it is the most perfect of all in the inmost heaven; in the middle heaven it is also perfect, but in a lower degree, and in the outmost heaven in a degree still lower; also that the form of one heaven has its permanent existence from another by means of influx from the lord. but what communication by influx is cannot be understood unless it is known what degrees of height are, and how they differ from degrees of length and breadth. what these different degrees are may be seen above (n ). . when it comes to the particulars of the form of heaven and how it proceeds and flows, this not even the angels can comprehend. some conception of it can be gained from the form of all things in the human body, when this is scanned and investigated by an acute and wise man; for it has been shown above, in their respective chapters, that the entire heaven reflects a single man (see n. - ) and that all things in man correspond to the heavens (n. - ). how incomprehensible and inexplicable that form is is evident only in a general way from the nervous fibers, by which each part and all parts of the body are woven together. what these fibers are, and how they proceed and flow in the brain, the eye cannot at all perceive; for innumerable fibers are there so interwoven that taken together they appear like a soft continuous mass; and yet it is in accord with these that each thing and all things of the will and understanding flow with the utmost distinctness into acts. how again they interweave themselves in the body is clear from the various plexuses, such as those of the heart, the mesentery, and others; and also from the knots called ganglions, into which many fibers enter from every region and there intermingle, and when variously joined together go forth to their functions, and this again and again; besides like things in every viscus, member, organ, and muscle. whoever examines these fibers and their many wonders with the eye of wisdom will be utterly bewildered. and yet the things seen with the eye are few, and those not seen are still more wonderful because they belong to an inner realm of nature. it is clearly evident that this form corresponds to the form of heaven, because all the workings of the understanding and the will are within it and are in accordance with it; for it is in accordance with this form that whatever a man wills passes spontaneously into act, and whatever he thinks spreads through the fibers from their beginnings even to their terminations, which is the source of sensations; and inasmuch as it is the form of thought and will, it is the form of intelligence and wisdom. such is the form that corresponds to the form of heaven. and from this it can be known that such is the form in accordance with which every affection and thought of angels extends itself, and that so far as the angels are in that form they are in intelligence and wisdom. that this form of heaven is from the divine human of the lord can be seen above (n. - ). all this has been said to make clear also that the heavenly form is such that even as to its generals it can never be completely known, thus that it is incomprehensible even to the angels, as has been said above. . xxiv. governments in heaven. as heaven is divided into societies, and the larger societies consist of some hundreds of thousands of angels (n. ), and all within a society, although in like good, are not in like wisdom (n. ), it must needs follow that governments exist there, since order must be observed, and all things of order must be guarded. but the governments in the heavens differ; they are of one sort in societies that constitute the lord's celestial kingdom, and of another sort in the societies that constitute his spiritual kingdom; they differ also in accordance with the functions of the several societies. nevertheless, no other government than the government of mutual love is possible in the heavens, and the government of mutual love is heavenly government. . government in the lord's celestial kingdom is called righteousness because all in that kingdom are in the good of love to the lord from the lord, and whatever is from that good is called righteous. government there belongs to the lord alone. he leads them and teaches them in the affairs of life. the truths that are called truths of judgment are written on their hearts; everyone knows them, perceives them, and sees them;{ } and in consequence matters of judgment there never come into question, but only matters of righteousness, which belong to the life. about these matters the less wise consult the more wise, and these consult the lord and receive answers. their heaven, that is, their inmost joy, is to live rightly from the lord. {footnote } the celestial angels do not think and speak from truths, as the spiritual angels do, because they have from the lord a perception of all things of truth (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). in respect to truths the celestial angels say, yea, yea, or nay, nay; but the spiritual angels reason about them whether they are true or not (n. , , , , , where the lord's words, let your speech be yea, yea, nay, nay; what is beyond these is from evil (matt. : ). are explained). . in the lord's spiritual kingdom the government is called judgment; because those in that kingdom are in spiritual good, which is the good of charity towards the neighbor, and that good in its essence is truth;{ } and truth pertains to judgment, as good pertains to righteousness.{ } these, too, are led by the lord, but mediately (n. ); and in consequence they have governors, few or many according to the need of the society in which they are. they also have laws according to which they live together. the governors administer all things in accordance with the laws, which they understand because they are wise, and in doubtful matters they are enlightened by the lord. {footnote } those in the spiritual kingdom are in truths, and those in the celestial kingdom are in good (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). the good of the spiritual kingdom is the good of charity towards the neighbor and this good in its essence is truth (n. , ). {footnote } in the word "righteousness" is predicated of good, and "judgment" of truth therefore "to do righteousness and judgment" means good and truth (n. , ). "great judgments" means the law of divine order, thus divine truths (n. ). . as government from good, which is the kind of government that exists in the lord's celestial kingdom, is called righteousness; and government from truth, which is the kind of government that exists in the lord's spiritual kingdom, is called judgment, so the terms "righteousness and judgment" are used in the word when heaven and the church are treated of, "righteousness" signifying celestial good, and "judgment" spiritual good, which good, as has been said above, is in its essence truth, as in the following passages: of peace there shall be no end upon the throne of david and upon his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it in judgment and in righteousness from henceforth and even to eternity (isaiah : ). by "david" here the lord is meant;{ } and by "his kingdom" heaven, as is evident from the following passage: i will raise unto david a righteous branch, and he shall reign as king, and shall deal intelligently and shall execute judgment and righteousness in the land (jer. : ). jehovah is exalted, for he dwelleth on high; he hath filled zion with judgment and righteousness (isaiah : ). "zion" also means heaven and the church.{ } i, jehovah, doing judgment and righteousness on the earth, for in these things i delight (jer. : ). i will betroth thee unto me forever, and i will betroth thee unto me in righteousness and judgment (hosea : ). o jehovah, in the heavens thy righteousness is like the mountains of god, and thy judgments are like the great deep (psalm : , ). they ask of me the judgments of righteousness, they long for an approach unto god (isaiah : ). so in other places. {footnote } by "david" in the prophetic parts of the word, the lord is meant (n. , ). {footnote } in the word "zion" means the church, and specifically the celestial church (n. , ). . in the lord's spiritual kingdom there are various forms of government, differing in different societies, the variety being in accord with the functions performed by the societies; and the functions of these are in accord with the functions of all things in man to which they correspond. that these are various is well known, the heart having one function, the lungs another, the liver another, the pancreas and spleen another, and each sensory organ another. as in the body these organs perform various services, so there are various services pertaining to the societies in the greatest man, which is heaven for the societies there correspond to these organs. that there is a correspondence of all things of heaven with all things of man may be seen in its own chapter above (n. - ). but all these forms of government agree in this, that they look to the public good as their end, and in that good to the good of the individual.{ } and this is so because everyone in the whole heaven is under the auspices of the lord, who loves all, and from divine love ordains that there shall be a common good, from which each individual shall receive his own good. each one, moreover, receives good according as he loves the common good; for so far as he loves the common good he loves all and everyone; and as that love is love of the lord he is to that extent loved by the lord, and good comes to him. {footnote } every man and every community, also one's country and the church and in the universal sense the kingdom of the lord, is a neighbor, and to do good to these from love of good in accordance with their state is to love the neighbor; that is, the neighbor is the good of these, which is the common good that must be consulted (n. - , ). civil good also, which is justice, is a neighbor (n. , , - ). therefore charity towards the neighbor extends itself to all things and each thing of the life of man; and loving good and doing good from love of good and truth, and also doing what is just from a love of what is just in every function and in every work, is loving the neighbor (n. , - ). . from all this it can be seen what the governors there are, namely, that they are such as are preeminent in love and wisdom, and therefore desire the good of all, and from wisdom know how to provide for the realization of that good. such governors do not domineer or dictate, but they minister and serve (to serve meaning to do good to others from a love of the good, and to minister meaning to see to it that the good is done); nor do they make themselves greater than others, but less, for they put the good of society and of the neighbor in the first place, and put their own good last; and whatever is in the first place is greater and what is last is less. nevertheless, the rulers have honor and glory; they dwell in the midst of the society, in higher position than the rest, and also in magnificent palaces; and this glory and honor they accept not for the sake of themselves but for the sake of obedience; for all there know that they have this honor and glory from the lord, and on that account should be obeyed. this is what is meant by the lord's words to his disciples: whosoever would become great among you let him be your minister; and whosoever would be first among you let him be your servant; as the son of man came not to be ministered unto but to minister (matt. : , ). he that is greatest among you let him be as the least, and he that is chief as he that doth minister (luke : ). . also in each house there is a like government in a lesser form. in every house there is a master and there are servants; the master loves the servants and the servants love the master, consequently they serve each other from love. the master teaches how they ought to live, and tells what is to be done; the servants obey and perform their duties. to perform use is the delight of everyone's life. this shows that the lord's kingdom is a kingdom of uses. . also in the hells there are governments, for without governments they could not be kept in restraint; but the governments there are opposite to the governments in the heavens; they are governments of the love of self. everyone there wishes to dictate to others and to be over others. they hate those that do not favor them, and make them objects of their vengeance and fury, for such is the nature of the love of self. therefore the more malignant are set over them as governors, and these they obey from fear.{ } but of this below, where the hells are treated of. {footnote } there are two kinds of rule, one from love towards the neighbor the other from love of self (n. ). from the rule that is from love towards the neighbor flow all goods and all happinesses (n. , ). in heaven no one desires to rule from the love of self, but all desire to minister, which means to rule from love to the neighbor; this is the source of their great power (n. ). from rule from the love of self all evils flow in (n. ). when the loves of self and the world had begun to prevail men were compelled to subject themselves to governments as a means of security (n. , , ). . xxv. divine worship in heaven. divine worship in the heavens is not unlike in externals divine worship on the earth, but in internals it is different. in the heavens, as on the earth, there are doctrines, preachings, and church edifices. in essentials the doctrines there are everywhere the same; but in the higher heavens they contain more interior wisdom than in the lower. the preachings are in harmony with the doctrines; and as they have houses and palaces (n. - ), so they have also church edifices, in which there is preaching. such things exist in heaven, because the angels are being perfected continually in wisdom and love. for they possess, as men do, understanding and will; and both their understanding and their will are capable of being continually perfected, the understanding by means of truths of intelligence, and the will by means of the goods of love.{ } {footnote } the understanding is receptive of truth, and the will of good (n. , , , , ). as all things have relation to truth and good, so everything of man's life has relation to understanding and will (n. , ). angels are perfected to eternity (n. , ). . but essential divine worship in the heavens does not consist in going to church and hearing preaching, but in a life of love, charity, and faith, in accordance with doctrine; preachings in churches serve solely as means of instruction in matters of life. i have talked with angels on this subject, and have told them that it is believed in the world that divine worship consists solely in attending church, listening to the preaching, observing the sacrament of the supper three or four times a year, and performing other acts of worship according to the requirements of the church; also devoting special times to prayers, and at such times, behaving devoutly. the angels said that these are outward acts that ought to be done, but are of no avail unless there is an internal from which they proceed, which is a life in accordance with the precepts that doctrine teaches. . that i might learn about their meeting in places of worship, i have been permitted at times to attend and to hear the preaching. the preacher stands in a pulpit at the east. those who are in the light of wisdom more than others sit in front of him; those who are in less light sit to the right and left of these. there is a circular arrangement of the seats, so that all are in the preacher's view, no one so sitting at either side as to be out of his view. at the entrance, which is at the east of the building and on the left of the pulpit, those stand who are being initiated. no one is permitted to stand behind the pulpit; when there is any one there the preacher becomes confused. it is the same if any one in the congregation dissents; and for this reason the dissenter must needs turn away his face. the wisdom of the preachings is such as to be above all comparison with the preachings of this world, for those in the heavens are in interior light. the church edifices in the spiritual kingdom are apparently built of stone, and those in the celestial kingdom of wood; because stone corresponds to truth, and those who are in the spiritual kingdom are in truth, while wood corresponds to good, and those in the celestial kingdom are in good.{ } in that kingdom the sacred edifices are not called churches but houses of god. in that kingdom they are without magnificence; but in the spiritual kingdom they are more or less magnificent. {footnote } "stone" signifies truth (n. , , , , , , ). "wood" signifies good (n. , , ). for this reason the most ancient people, who were in celestial good, had sacred buildings of wood (n. ). . i have also talked with one of the preachers about the holy state in which those are who listen to the preaching in the churches. he said that everyone is pious, devout, and holy in harmony with his interiors, which pertain to love and faith, for holiness itself is in love and faith, because the divine of the lord is in them. he also said that he did not know what outward holiness is apart from love and faith; and when he thought about it he said that perhaps it is something counterfeiting holiness in outward appearance, either conventional or hypocritical; and that such holiness is kindled and sustained by spurious fire from the love of self and the world. . all the preachers are from the lord's spiritual kingdom; none are from the celestial kingdom. they are from the spiritual kingdom because the angels there are in truths from good, and all preaching must be from truths. there are no preachers from the celestial kingdom because those who are there are in the good of love, and they see and perceive truths from good, but do not talk about them. but although the angels in the celestial kingdom perceive and see truths there are preachings there, since by means of preachings they are enlightened in the truths that they already know, and are perfected by many truths that they did not know before. as soon as they hear truths they acknowledge them and thus perceive them; and the truths they perceive they love, and by living in accordance with them they make them to be of their life, declaring that living in accordance with truths is loving the lord.{ } {footnote } loving the lord and the neighbor is living in accordance with the lord's commandments (n. , , , , , ). . all preachers are appointed by the lord, and have therefrom a gift for preaching. no others are permitted to preach in the churches. they are not called priests, but preachers. they are not called priests because the celestial kingdom is the priesthood of heaven; for priesthood signifies the good of love to the lord, and those in the celestial kingdom are in that good; while the spiritual kingdom is the kingship of heaven, for kingship signifies truth from good, and those in the spiritual kingdom are in that truth (see above, n. ).{ } {footnote } priests represented the lord in respect to the divine good, kings in respect to divine truth (n. , ). therefore, in the word a "priest" signifies those who are in the good of love to the lord, and the priesthood signifies that good (n. , ). a "king" in the word signifies those who are in divine truth, and therefrom kingship signifies truth from good (n. , , , , , , ). . the doctrines with which their preachings are in accord all look to life as their end, and none look to faith separate from the life. the doctrine of the inmost heaven is more full of wisdom than the doctrine of the middle heaven, and this more full of intelligence than the doctrine of the outmost heaven; for in each heaven the doctrines are adapted to the perceptions of the angels. the essential of all doctrines is acknowledging the divine human of the lord. . xxvi. the power of the angels of heaven. that the angels possess power cannot be comprehended by those who know nothing about the spiritual world and its influx into the natural world. such think that angels can have no power because they are spiritual and are even so pure and unsubstantial that no eye can see them. but those who look more interiorly into the causes of things take a different view. such know that all the power that a man has is from his understanding and will (for apart from these he is powerless to move a particle of his body), and his understanding and will are his spiritual man. this moves the body and its members at its pleasure; for whatever it thinks the mouth and tongue speak, and whatever it wills the body does; and it bestows its strength at pleasure. as man's will and understanding are ruled by the lord through angels and spirits, so also are all things of his body, because these are from the will and understanding; and if you will believe it, without influx from heaven man cannot even move a step. that this is so has been shown me by much experience. angels have been permitted to move my steps, my actions, and my tongue and speech, as they pleased, and this by influx into my will and thought; and i have learned thereby that of myself i could do nothing. i was afterwards told by them that every man is so ruled, and that he can know this from the doctrine of the church and from the word, for he prays that god may send his angels to lead him, direct his steps, teach him, and inspire in him what to think and what to say, and other like things; although he says and believes otherwise when he is thinking by himself apart from doctrine. all this has been said to make known what power angels have with man. . but so great is the power of angels in the spiritual world that if i should make known all that i have witnessed in regard to it it would exceed belief. any obstruction there that ought to be removed because it is contrary to divine order the angels cast down or overthrow merely by an effort of the will and a look. thus i have seen mountains that were occupied by the evil cast down and overthrown, and sometimes shaken from end to end as in earthquakes; also rocks cleft asunder to their bottoms, and the evil who were upon them swallowed up. i have seen also hundreds of thousands of evil spirits dispersed by angels and cast down into hell. numbers are of no avail against them; neither are devices, cunning, or combinations; for they see through them all, and disperse them in a moment. (but more may be seen on this subject in the account of the destruction of babylon.) such power do angels have in the spiritual world. it is evident from the word that they have like power in the natural world also when it is permitted; for instance, that they have given to destruction entire armies; and that they brought on a pestilence from which seventy thousand men died. of this angel it is said: the angel stretched out his hand against jerusalem to destroy it but jehovah repented him of the evil, and said to the angel that destroyed the people, it is enough, now stay thy hand. and david saw the angel that smote the people ( samuel : , ); besides other passages. because the angels have such power they are called powers; as in david: bless jehovah, ye angels, mighty in power (psalm : ). . but it must be understood that the angels have no power whatever from themselves, but that all their power is from the lord; and that they are powers only so far as they acknowledge this. whoever of them believes that he has power from himself instantly becomes so weak as not to be able to resist even a single evil spirit. for this reason angels ascribe no merit whatever to themselves, and are averse to all praise and glory on account of any thing they do, ascribing all the praise and glory to the lord. . it is the divine truth that goes forth from the lord that has all power in the heavens, for the lord in heaven is divine truth united to divine good (see n. - ). to the extent that angels are receptions of this truth they are powers.{ } moreover each one is his own truth and his own good because each one is such as his understanding and will are. the understanding pertains to truth because everything of it is from truths, and the will pertains to good because everything of it is from goods; for whatever any one understands he calls truth, and whatever he wills he calls good. from this it is that everyone is his own truth and his own good.{ } therefore so far as an angel is truth from the divine and good from the divine he is a power, because to that extent the lord is in him. and as no one's good and truth are wholly like or the same as another's, since in heaven, as in the world, there is endless variety (n. ), so the power of one angel is not like the power of another. those who constitute the arms in the greatest man, or heaven, have the greatest power because such are more in truths than others, and into their truths good flows from the entire heaven. moreover, the power of the whole man passes into the arms, and by means of these the whole body exercises its powers. it is for this reason that in the word "arms" and "hand" signify powers.{ } sometimes on this account a naked arm is seen in heaven so powerful as to be able to break in pieces everything in its way, even though it were a great rock on the earth. once it was moved towards me, and i perceived that it was able to crush my bones to atoms. {footnote } angels are called powers and are powers from their reception of divine truth from the lord (n. ). angels are recipients of divine truth from the lord and on this account are sometimes called "gods" in the word (n. , , , , , , ). {footnote } a man or an angel is his own good and his own truth, thus his own love and his own faith (n. , ). he is his own understanding and his own will, for everything of life is there from; the life of good is from the will, and the life of truth is from the understanding (n. , , , ). {footnote } the correspondence of the hands, arms, and shoulders, with the greatest man or heaven (n. - ). in the word, "arms" and hands signify power (n. , , , , , ). . it has been shown above (n. ) that the divine truth that goes forth from the lord has all power, and that angels have power to the extent that they are receptions of divine truth from the lord. but angels are so far receptions of divine truth as they are receptions of divine good, for truths have all their power from good, and none apart from good. so, too, good has all its power through truths, and none apart from truths. power springs from the conjunction of these two. the same is true of faith and love; for it is the same whether you say truth or faith, since everything of faith is truth; also it is the same whether you say good or love, since everything of love is good.{ } the great power that angels have by means of truths from good is shown also from this, that when an evil spirit is merely looked at by the angels he falls into a swoon, and does not appear like a man, and this until the angel turns away his eyes. such an effect is produced by the look of the eyes of angels, because the sight of angels is from the light of heaven, and the light of heaven is divine truth (see above, n. - ). moreover, the eyes correspond to truths from good.{ } {footnote } all power in heaven is the power of truth from good, thus of faith from loves (n. , , , , , , ). all power is from the lord, because from him is every truth of faith and every good of love (n. , ). this power is meant by the keys given to peter (n. ). it is divine truth going forth from the lord that has all power (n. , ). this power of the lord is what is meant by "sitting at the right hand of jehovah" (n. , , , , , , ). the right had means power (n. ). {footnote } the eyes correspond to truths from good (n. - , - , ). . as truths from good have all power, so falsities from evil have no power at all;{ } and as all in hell are in falsities from evil they have no power against truth and good. but what power they have among themselves, and what power evil spirits have before they are cast into hell, will be told hereafter. {footnote } falsity from evil has no power, because truth from food has all power (n. , ). . xxvii. the speech of angels. angels talk with each other just as men do in the world, and on various subjects, as on domestic matters, and on matters of the civil state, and of moral, and spiritual life. and there is no difference except that their talk is more intelligent than that of men, because it is from more interior thought. i have been permitted to associate with them frequently, and to talk with them as friend with friend, and sometimes as stranger with stranger; and as i was then in a state like theirs i knew no otherwise than that i was talking with men on the earth. . angelic speech, like human speech, is distinguished into words; it is also audibly uttered and heard; for angels, like men, have mouth, tongue, and ears, and an atmosphere in which the sound of their speech is articulated, although it is a spiritual atmosphere adapted to angels, who are spiritual. in their atmosphere angels breathe and utter words by means of their breath, as men do in their atmosphere.{ } {footnote } in the heavens there is respiration, but it is of an interior kind (n. , ) from experience (n. , , , ). there are differing respirations there, varying in accordance with their states (n. , , , , , ). the evil are wholly unable to breathe in heaven, and they are suffocated if they go there (n. ). . in the entire heaven all have the same language, and they all understand one another, to whatever society, near or remote, they belong. language there is not learned but is instinctive with everyone, for it flows from their very affection and thought, the tones of their speech corresponding to their affections, and the vocal articulations which are words corresponding to the ideas of thought that spring from the affections; and because of this correspondence the speech itself is spiritual, for it is affection sounding and thought speaking. [ ] any one who gives any thought to it can see that all thought is from affection which pertains to love, and that the ideas of thought are the various forms into which the general affection is distributed; for no thought or idea is possible apart from affection-the soul and life of thought is from affection. this enables angels to know, merely from another's speech, what he is-from the tone what his affection is, and from the vocal articulations or words what his mind is. the wiser angels know what the ruling affection is from a single series of words, for that affection is what they chiefly attend to. [ ] it is known that each individual has a variety of affections, one affection when in joy, another when in grief, another when in sympathy and compassion, another when in sincerity and truth, another when in love and charity, another when in zeal or in anger, another when in simulation and deceit, another when in quest of honor and glory, and so on. but the ruling affection or love is in all of these; and for this reason the wiser angels, because they perceive that love, know from the speech the whole state of another. [ ] this it has been granted me to know from much experience. i have heard angels disclosing the character of another's life merely from hearing him speak. they also said that from any ideas of another's thought they could know all things of his life, because from those ideas they know his ruling love, in which are all things in their order. they know also that man's book of life is nothing else. . angelic language has nothing in common with human languages except certain words that are the sounds of a specific affection; yet this is true not of the words themselves but of their sounds; on which subject something will be said in what follows that angelic language has nothing in common with human languages is evident from the fact that angels are unable to utter a single word of human language. this was tried but they could not do it, because they can utter nothing except what is in entire agreement with their affections; whatever is not in agreement is repugnant to their very life, for life belongs to affection, and their speech is from their life. i have been told that the first language of men on our earth coincided with angelic language because they had it from heaven; and that the hebrew language coincides with it in some respects. . as the speech of angels corresponds to their affection, and their affection belongs to their love, and as the love of heaven is love to the lord and love towards the neighbor (see above, n. - ), it is evident how choice and delightful their talk must be, affecting not the ears only but also the interiors of the mind of those who listen to it. there was a certain hard-hearted spirit with whom an angel spoke. at length he was so affected by what was said that he shed tears, saying that he had never wept before, but he could not refrain, for it was love speaking. . the speech of angels is likewise full of wisdom because it proceeds from their interior thoughts, and their interior thought is wisdom, as their interior affection is love, and in their speech their love and wisdom unite. for this reason their speech is so full of wisdom that they can express in a single word what man cannot express in a thousand words also the ideas of their thought include things that are beyond man's comprehension, and still more his power of expression. this is why the things that have been heard and seen in heaven are said to be ineffable, and such as ear hath never heard nor eye seen. [ ] that this is true i have also been permitted to learn by experience. at times i have entered into the state in which angels are, and in that state have talked with them, and i then understood everything. but when i was brought back into my former state, and thus into the natural thought proper to man, and wished to recall what i had heard i could not; for there were thousands of things unadapted to the ideas of natural thought, and therefore inexpressible except by variegations of heavenly light, and thus not at all by human words. [ ] also the ideas of thought of the angels from which their words spring are modifications of the light of heaven, and the affections from which the tones of the words spring are variations of the heat of heaven, the light of heaven being divine truth or wisdom, and the heat of heaven the divine good or love (see above, n. - ); and the angels have their affection from the divine love, and their thought from the divine wisdom.{ } {footnote } the ideas of angels, from which they speak, are expressed by wonderful variegations of the light of heaven (n. , , ). . because the speech of angels proceeds directly from their affection, and the ideas of their thought are the various forms into which their general affection is distributed (see above, n. ), angels can express in a moment what a man cannot express in half an hour; also they can set forth in a few words what has been expressed in writing on many pages; and this, too, has been proved to me by much experience.{ } thus the angels' ideas of thought and the words of their speech make one, like effecting cause and effect; for what is in the ideas of thought as cause is presented in the words as effect, and this is why every word comprehends in itself so many things. also all the particulars of angelic thought, and thus of angelic speech, appear when presented to view like a thin wave or circumfluent atmosphere, in which are innumerable things in their order derived from angelic wisdom, and these enter another's thought and affect him. the ideas of thought of everyone, both angel and man, are presented to view in the light of heaven, whenever the lord pleases.{ } {footnote } angels can express by their speech in a moment more than a man can express by his in half an hour; and they can also express things that do not fall into the expressions of human speech (n. - , , , ). {footnote } the innumerable things contained in one idea of thought (n. , , , - ). the ideas of man's thought are opened in the other life, and what they are is presented to view to the life (n. , , ). what their appearance is (n. , ). the ideas of angels of the inmost heaven present an appearance of flamy light (n. ). the ideas of angels of the outmost heaven present an appearance of thin white clouds (n. ). an angelic idea seen, from which there was a radiation towards the lord (n. ). ideas of thought extend themselves widely into the societies of angels round about (n. - ). . the speech of angels of the lord's celestial kingdom resembles the speech of the angels of his spiritual kingdom, but it is from more interior thought. celestial angels are in good of love to the lord, and therefore speak from wisdom; while spiritual angels are in the good of charity towards the neighbor, which in its essence is truth (n. ), and therefore speak from intelligence, for wisdom is from good, and intelligence is from truth. for this reason the speech of celestial angels is like a gentle stream, soft, and as it were continuous; but the speech of spiritual angels is slightly vibratory and divided. the speech of celestial angels has much of the tones of the vowels u and o; while the speech of spiritual angels has much of the tones of e and i;{ } for the vowels stand for tone, and in the tone there is affection, the tone of the speech of angels corresponding to their affection, as has been said above (n. ); while the vocal articulations, which are words, correspond to the ideas of thought which spring from affection. as the vowels are not essential to a language, but serve by means of tones to elevate the words to the various affections according to each one's state, so in the hebrew tongue the vowels are not expressed, and are also variously pronounced. from this a man's quality in respect to his affection and love is known to the angels. also in the speech of celestial angels there are no hard consonants, and it rarely passes from one consonant to another without the interposition of a word beginning with a vowel. this is why in the word the particle "and" is so often interposed, as can be seen by those who read the word in the hebrew, in which this particle is soft, beginning and ending with a vowel sound. again, in the word, in hebrew, it can in some measure be seen from the words used whether they belong to the celestial class or the spiritual class, that is, whether they involve good or truth. those involving good partake largely of the sounds of u and o, and also somewhat of a, while those involving truth partake of the sounds of e and i. because it is especially in tones that affections express themselves, so in human speech, when great subjects are discussed, such as heaven [caelum] and god [deus], those words are preferred that contain the vowels u and o; and musical tones, whenever such themes are to be expressed, rise to the same fullness; but not when less exalted themes are rendered. by such means musical art is able to express affections of various kinds. {footnote } [as these vowels are pronounced in european language. -- tr.] . in angelic speech there is a kind of symphony that cannot be described;{ } which comes from the pouring forth and diffusion of the thoughts and affections from which speech flows, in accordance with the form of heaven, and all affiliation and all communication in heaven is in accordance with that form. that angels are affiliated in accordance with the form of heaven, and that their thoughts and affections flow in accordance with it may be seen above (n. - ). {footnote } in angelic speech there is a symphony with harmonious cadence (n. , , ). . speech like that in the spiritual world is inherent in every man in his interior intellectual part; but man does not know this, because this speech does not with man, as with angels, fall into words analogous to affection; nevertheless this is what causes man, when he enters the other life, to come into the same speech as spirits and angels, and thus to know how to speak without instruction.{ } but more on this subject hereafter. {footnote } there is spiritual or angelic speech belonging to man, though he does not know it (n. ). the ideas of the internal man are spiritual, but during his life in the world man perceives them naturally, because he then thinks in what is natural (n. , , ). man comes after death into his interior ideas (n. , , , , ). those ideas then form his speech (n. - ). . in heaven, as has been said above, all have one speech; but it is varied in this respect, that the speech of the wise is more interior and more full of variations of affections and ideas of thought, while the speech of the less wise is more external and less full; and the speech of the simple is still more external, consisting of words from which the meaning is to be gathered in the same way as when men are talking to one another. there is also speech by the face, terminating in something sonorous modified by ideas. again, there is speech in which heavenly representatives are mingled with the ideas, and go forth from ideas to sight. there is also speech by gestures that correspond to affections, and represent things like those expressed by their words. there is speech by means of the generals of affections and the generals of thoughts. there is speech like thunder; besides other kinds. . the speech of evil and infernal spirits is likewise natural to them because it is from affections; but it is from evil affections and consequent filthy ideas, to which angels are utterly averse. thus the modes of speaking in hell are opposite to those of heaven; and in consequence evil spirits cannot endure angelic speech, and angels cannot endure infernal speech. to the angels infernal speech is like a bad odor striking the nostrils. the speech of hypocrites, who are such as are able to feign themselves angels of light, resembles in respect to words the speech of angels, but in respect to affections and consequent ideas of thought it is the direct opposite. consequently, when the inner nature of their speech is perceived as wise angels perceive it, it is heard as the gnashing of teeth, and strikes with horror. . xxviii. the speech of angels with man. angels who talk with man do not talk in their own language, nor in any language unknown to man, but in the man's own language, or in some other language with which he is acquainted. this is so because when angels speak with man they turn themselves to him and conjoin themselves with him; and this conjunction of angel with man causes the two to be in like thought; and as man's thought coheres to his memory, and this is the source of his speech, the two have the same language. moreover, when an angel or a spirit comes to a man, and by turning to him is conjoined to him, he so enters into the entire memory of the man that he is scarcely conscious that he does not himself know whatever the man knows, including his languages. [ ] i have talked with angels about this, and have said that perhaps they thought that they were addressing me in my mother tongue, since it is so perceived; and yet it was i and not they that spoke; and that this is evident from the fact that angels cannot utter a single word of human language (see n. ); furthermore, human language is natural and they are spiritual, and spiritual beings cannot give expression to any thing in a natural way. to this they replied that they are aware that their conjunction with the man with whom they are speaking is with his spiritual thought; but because his spiritual thought flows into his natural thought, and his natural thought coheres to his memory, the language of the man and all his knowledge appear to them to be their own; and that this is so for this reason, that while it is the lord's pleasure that there should be such a conjunction with and sort of insertion of man into heaven, yet the state of man is now such that there can no longer be such conjunction with angels, but only with spirits who are not in heaven. [ ] when i talked about this with spirits also they were unwilling to believe that it is the man that speaks, insisting that they spoke in man, also that man's knowledge is their knowledge and not the man's knowledge, consequently that everything that man knows is from them. i tried to convince them by many proofs that this is not true, but in vain. who are meant by spirits and who are meant by angels will be told further on when the world of spirits is treated of. . there is another reason why angels and spirits conjoin themselves so closely with man as not to know but that what is man's is their own, namely, that there is such conjunction between the spiritual world and the natural world in man that the two are seemingly one. but inasmuch as man has separated himself from heaven the lord has provided that there should be angels and spirits with each individual, and that man should be ruled by the lord through these. this is the reason for such close conjunction. it would have been otherwise if man had not separated himself; for in that case he might have been ruled by the lord through the general influx from heaven, without spirits and angels being adjoined to him. but this subject will be specially considered in what follows when the conjunction of heaven with man is treated of. . the speech of an angel or spirit with man is heard by him as audibly as the speech of man with man, yet by himself only, and not by others who stand near; and for the reason that the speech of an angel or spirit flows first into a man's thought, and by an inner way into his organ of hearing, and thus moves it from within; while the speech of man with man flows first into the air and by an outward way into his organ of hearing, and moves it from without. evidently, then, the speech of an angel or spirit with man is heard within him; but as the organs of hearing are thus equally moved, the speech is equally audible. that the speech of an angel or a spirit flows down from within even into the ear has been made clear to me by the fact that it flows also into the tongue, causing a slight vibration, but without any such motion as when the man himself by means of the tongue forms the sound of speech into words. . but at the present day to talk with spirits is rarely granted because it is dangerous;{ } for then the spirits know, what otherwise they do not know, that they are with man; and evil spirits are such that they hold man in deadly hatred, and desire nothing so much as to destroy him both soul and body, and this they do in the case of those who have so indulged themselves in fantasies as to have separated from themselves the enjoyments proper to the natural man. some also who lead a solitary life sometimes hear spirits talking with them, and without danger; but that the spirits with them may not know that they are with man they are at intervals removed by the lord; for most spirits are not aware that there is any other world than that in which they live, and therefore are unaware that there are men anywhere else; and this is why man is not permitted to speak with them in return. if he did they would know. again, those who meditate much on religious subjects, and are so intent upon them as to see them as it were inwardly within themselves, begin to hear spirits speaking with them; for religious persuasions, whatever they are, when man dwells upon them by himself and does not adapt them to the various things of use in the world, penetrate to the interiors and rest there, and occupy the whole spirit of the man, and even enter into the spiritual world and act upon the spirits there. but such persons are visionaries and enthusiasts; and whatever spirit they hear they believe to be the holy spirit, when, in fact, such spirits are enthusiastic spirits. such spirits see falsities as truths, and so seeing them they induce not themselves only but also those they flow into to believe them. such spirits, however, have been gradually removed, because they began to lure others into evil and to gain control over them. enthusiastic spirits are distinguished from other spirits by their believing themselves to be the holy spirit, and believing what they say to be divine. as man honors such spirits with divine worship they do not attempt to harm him. i have sometimes talked with them, and the wicked things they infused into their worshipers were then disclosed. they dwell together towards the left, in a desert place. {footnote } man is able to talk with spirits and angels; and the ancient people frequently talked with them (n. - , , , , ). in some earths angels and spirits appear in human form and talk with the inhabitants (n. , ). but on this earth at this day it is dangerous to talk with spirits, unless man is in true faith, and is led by the lord (n. , , ). . but to speak with the angels of heaven is granted only to those who are in truths from good, especially to those who are in the acknowledgment of the lord and of the divine in his human, because this is the truth in which the heavens are. for, as it has been shown above, the lord is the god of heaven (n. - ); it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven (n. - ); the divine of the lord in heaven is love to him and charity towards the neighbor from him (n. - ); the whole heaven in one complex reflects a single man; also every society of heaven; and every angel is in complete human form, and this from the divine human of the lord (n. - ). all of which makes evident that only those whose interiors are opened by divine truths, even to the lord, are able to speak with the angels of heaven, since it is into these truths with man that the lord flows, and when the lord flows in heaven also flows in. divine truths open the interiors of man because man was so created as to be in respect to his internal man an image of heaven, and in respect to his external an image of the world (n. ); and the internal man is opened only by means of divine truth going forth from the lord, because that is the light of heaven and the life of heaven (n. - ). . the influx of the lord himself into man is into his forehead, and from that into the whole face, because the forehead of man corresponds to love, and the face corresponds to all his interiors.{ } the influx of spiritual angels into man is into his head every where, from the forehead and temples to the whole part that contains the cerebrum, because that region of the head corresponds to intelligence; but the influx of celestial angels is into that part of the head that contains the cerebellum, and is called the occiput, from the ears all around even to the neck, for that region corresponds to wisdom. all the speech of angels with man enters by these ways into his thought; and by this means i have perceived what angels they were that spoke with me. {footnote } the "forehead" corresponds to heavenly love, and consequently in the word signifies that love (n. ). the "face" corresponds to the interiors of man, which belong to thought and affection (n. , , , , , , , , , ). the face is formed to correspondence with the interiors (n. - , ). consequently the "face," in the word, signifies the interiors (n. , , , , ). . those who talk with the angels of heaven also see the things that exist in heaven, because they are then seeing in the light of heaven, for their interiors are in that light; also the angels through them see the things that are on the earth,{ } because in them heaven is conjoined to the world and the world is conjoined to heaven. for (as has been said above n. ), when the angels turn themselves to man they so conjoin themselves to him as to be wholly unaware that what pertains to the man is not theirs--not only what pertains to his speech but also to his sight and hearing; while man, on the other hand, is wholly unaware that the things that flow in through the angels are not his. such was the conjunction that existed between angels of heaven and the most ancient people on this earth, and for this reason their times were called the golden age. because this race acknowledged the divine under a human form, that is, the lord, they talked with the angels of heaven as with their friends, and angels of heaven talked with them as with their friends; and in them heaven and the world made one. but after those times man gradually separated himself from heaven by loving himself more than the lord and the world more than heaven, and in consequence began to feel the delights of the love of self and the world as separate from the delights of heaven, and finally to such an extent as to be ignorant of any other delight. then his interiors that had been open into heaven were closed up, while his exteriors were open to the world; and when this takes place man is in light in regard to all things of the world, but in thick darkness in regard to all things of heaven. {footnote } spirits are unable to see through man any thing that is in this solar world, but they have seen through my eyes; the reason (n. ). . since those times it is only rarely that any one has talked with the angels of heaven; but some have talked with spirits who are not in heaven. this is so because man's interior and exterior faculties are such that they are turned either towards the lord as their common center (n. ), or towards self, that is, backwards from the lord. those that are turned towards the lord are also turned towards heaven. but those that are turned towards self, are turned also towards the world. and to elevate these is a difficult matter; nevertheless the lord elevates them as much as is possible, by turning the love about; which is done by means of truths from the word. . i have been told how the lord spoke with the prophets through whom the word was given. he did not speak with them as he did with the ancients, by an influx into their interiors, but through spirits who were sent to them, whom he filled with his look, and thus inspired with the words which they dictated to the prophets; so that it was not influx but dictation. and as the words came forth directly from the lord, each one of them was filled with the divine and contains within it an internal sense, which is such that the angels of heaven understand the words in a heavenly and spiritual sense, while men understand them in a natural sense. thus has the lord conjoined heaven and the world by means of the word. how the lord fills spirits with the divine by his look has also been made clear. a spirit that has been filled by the lord with the divine does not know otherwise than that he is the lord, and that it is the divine that is speaking; and this continues until he has finished speaking. after that he perceives and acknowledges that he is a spirit, and that he spoke from the lord and not from himself. because this was the state of the spirits who spoke with the prophets they said that it was jehovah that spoke; the spirits even called themselves jehovah, as can be seen both from the prophetical and historical parts of the word. . that the nature of the conjunction of angels and spirits with man may be understood i am permitted to mention some notable things by which it may be elucidated and verified. when angels and spirits turn themselves to man they do not know otherwise than that the man's language is their own and that they have no other language; and for the reason that they are there in the man's language, and not in their own, which they have forgotten. but as soon as they turn themselves away from the man they are in their own angelic and spiritual language, and know nothing about the man's language. i have had a like experience when in company with angels and in a state like theirs. i then talked with them in their language and knew nothing of my own, having forgotten it; but as soon as i ceased to be present with them i was in my own language. [ ] another notable fact is that when angels and spirits turn themselves to a man they are able to talk with him at any distance; they have talked with me at a considerable distance as audibly as when they were near. but when they turn themselves away from man and talk with each other man hears nothing at all of what they are saying, even if it be close to his ear. from this it was made clear that all conjunction in the spiritual world is determined by the way they turn. [ ] another notable fact is that many spirits together can talk with a man, and the man with them; for they send one of their number to the man with whom they wish to speak, and the spirit sent turns himself to the man and the rest of them turn to their spirit and thus concentrate their thoughts, which the spirit utters; and the spirit then does not know otherwise than that he is speaking from himself, and they do not know otherwise than that they are speaking. thus also is the conjunction of many with one effected by turning.{ } but of these emissary spirits, who are also called subjects, and of communication by means of them, more will be said hereafter. {footnote } spirits sent from one society of spirits to other societies are called subjects (n. , ). communications in the spiritual world are effected by such emissary spirits (n. , , ). a spirit when he is sent forth, and serves as a subject thinks from those by whom he is sent forth and not from himself (n. - ). . an angel or spirit is not permitted to speak with a man from his own memory, but only from the man's memory; for angels and spirits have a memory as well as man. if a spirit were to speak from his own memory with a man the man would not know otherwise than that the thoughts then in his mind were his own, although they were the spirit's thoughts. this would be like the recollection of something which the man had never heard or seen. that this is so has been given me to know from experience. this is the source of the belief held by some of the ancients that after some thousands of years they were to return into their former life, and into everything they had done, and in fact, had returned. this they concluded because at times there came to them a sort of recollection of things that they had never seen or heard. this came from an influx from the memory of spirits into their ideas of thought. . there are also spirits called natural and corporeal spirits. when these come to a man they do not conjoin themselves with his thought, like other spirits, but enter into his body, and occupy all his senses, and speak through his mouth, and act through his members, believing at the time that all things of the man are theirs. these are the spirits that obsess man. but such spirits have been cast into hell by the lord, and thus wholly removed; and in consequence such obsessions are not possible at the present time.{ } {footnote } external or bodily obsessions are not permitted at the present time, as they were formerly (n. ). but at present internal obsessions, which pertain to the mind, are permitted more than formerly (n. , ). man is inwardly obsessed when he has filthy and scandalous thoughts about god and the neighbor, and is withheld from making them known only by external consideration, which are fear of the loss of reputation, honor, gain and fear of the law and of loss of life (n. ). of the devilish spirits who chiefly obsess the interiors of man (n. ). of the devilish spirits who long to obsess the exteriors of man; that such are shut up in hell (n. , ). . xxix. writings in heaven. as the angels have speech, and their speech consists of words, they also have writings; and by writing as well as by speech they give expression to what is in their minds. at times i have had papers sent to me, traced with written words precisely like manuscripts in the world, and others like printed sheets; and i was able to read them in a like way, but was allowed to get from them only an idea here and there; for the reason that it is not in accordance with divine order for man to be taught by writings from heaven; but he must be taught by means of the word only; for it is only by means of the word that there is communication and conjunction of heaven with the world, thus of the lord with man. that papers written in heaven were seen also by the prophets is shown in ezekiel: when i looked, behold a hand was put forth by a spirit unto me, and a roll of a book was therein which he unrolled in my sight; it was written on the front and on the back ( : , ). and in john: i saw upon the right hand of him that sat on the throne a book written within and on the back, sealed up with seven seals (apoc. : ). . the existence of writings in the heavens is a provision of the lord for the sake of the word; for the word in its essence is divine truth, and from it is all heavenly wisdom, both with men and with angels; for the word was dictated by the lord, and what is dictated by the lord passes through all the heavens in order and terminates with man. thereby it is adapted both to the wisdom of angels and the intelligence of men. thereby, too, the angels have a word, and read it the same as men do on the earth, and also draw from it their doctrinals, and preach from it (n. ). it is the same word; but its natural sense, which is the sense of the letter with us, does not exist in heaven, but only the spiritual sense, which is its internal sense. what this sense is can be seen in the small treatise on the white horse spoken of in the apocalypse. . a little paper was at one time sent to me from heaven, on which there were a few words only written in hebrew letters, and i was told that every letter involved arcana of wisdom, and that these arcana were contained in the inflections and curvatures of the letters, and thus also in the sounds. this made clear to me what is signified by these words of the lord: verily i say unto you, until heaven and earth pass away, one iota or one tittle shall not pass away from the law (matt. : ). that the word in every tittle of it is divine is known in the church; but just where the divine lies hid in every tittle has not been known heretofore, and therefore shall be told. in the inmost heaven the writing consists of various inflected and circumflected forms, and the inflections and circumflections are in accordance with the forms of heaven. by means of these angels express the arcana of their wisdom, and also many things that they are unable to express in spoken words; and what is wonderful, the angels know this writing without training or a teacher, it being implanted in them like their speech (see n. ); therefore this writing is heavenly writing. it is implanted because all extension of thoughts and affections and consequent communication of intelligence and wisdom of the angels proceeds in accordance with the form of heaven (n. ); and for the same reason their writing flows into that form. i have been told that the most ancient people on this earth, before letters were invented, had such writing; and that it was transferred into the letters of the hebrew language, and these letters in ancient times were all inflected, and none of them, as at present, were bounded by straight lines. thus it is that in the word divine things and arcana of heaven are contained even in its iotas, points and tittles. . this writing in characters of a heavenly form is in use in the inmost heaven, the angels of which surpass all others in wisdom. by means of these characters they express the affections, from which thoughts flow and follow in order in accordance with the subject treated of. consequently these writings, which i have also been permitted to see, involve arcana which thought cannot exhaust. but such writings do not exist in the lower heavens. the writings there resemble the writings in the world, having like characters, and yet they are not intelligible to man, because they are in angelic language; and angelic language is such that it has nothing in common with human languages (n. ), since by the vowels they express affections, and by the consonants the ideas of thought from the affections, and by the words from these the sense of the matter (see above, n. , ). moreover, in this writing, which i have also seen, more is involved in a few words than a man can express in several pages. in this way they have the word written in the lower heavens; but in the inmost heaven in heavenly characters. . it is a notable fact that the writings in the heavens flow naturally from their very thoughts, and this so easily that the thought puts itself forth, as it were, and the hand never hesitates in the choice of a word, because both the words they speak and those they write correspond to the ideas of their thought; and all correspondence is natural and spontaneous. there are also writings in the heavens that exist without the aid of the hand, from mere correspondence with the thoughts; but these are not permanent. . i have also seen writings from heaven made up of mere numbers set down in order and in a series, just as in writings made up of letters and words; and i have been taught that this writing is from the inmost heaven, and that their heavenly writing (spoken of above, n. , ), when the thought from it flows down, is set forth before the angels of the lower heavens in numbers, and that this numerical writing likewise involves arcana, some of which can neither be comprehended by thought nor expressed by words. for all numbers correspond, and have a meaning, the same as words do, in accordance with the correspondence;{ } yet with the difference that in numbers generals are involved, and in words particulars; and as one general involves innumerable particulars, so more arcana are involved in numerical writing than in literal writing. from this i could see that in the word numbers as well as words signify things. what the simple numbers signify, as , , , , , , , , , , and what the compound numbers, as , , , , , , , , , , , and others, may be seen in the arcana celestia, where they are treated of. in this writing in heaven, a number is always prefixed on which those following in a series depend as on their subject; for that number is as it were an index to the matter treated of, and from it is the determination of the numbers that follow to the particular point. {footnote } all numbers in the word signify things (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). shown from heaven (n. , ). composite numbers have the same signification as the simple numbers from which they result by multiplication (n. , , , ). the most ancient people possessed heavenly arcana expressed in numbers forming a kind of computation of states of the church (n. ). . those who know nothing about heaven, and who are unwilling to have any other idea of it than as of something purely atmospherical, in which the angels fly about as intellectual minds, having no sense of hearing or seeing, are unable to conceive that the angels have speech and writing; for they place the existence of everything real in what is material; and yet the writings in heaven have as real an existence as those in the world, and the angels there have everything that is useful for life and useful for wisdom. . xxx. the wisdom of the angels of heaven. the nature of angelic wisdom can scarcely be comprehended, because it so greatly transcends human wisdom that the two cannot be compared; and whatever is thus transcendent does not seem to be any thing. moreover, some truths that must enter into a description of it are as yet unknown, and until these become known they exist in the mind as shadows, and thus hide the thing as it is in itself. nevertheless, these truths can be known, and when known be comprehended, provided the mind takes any interest in them; for interest carries light with it because it is from love; and upon those who love the things pertaining to divine and heavenly wisdom light shines forth from heaven and gives enlightenment. . what the wisdom of the angels is can be inferred from the fact that they are in the light of heaven, and the light of heaven in its essence is divine truth or divine wisdom; and this light enlightens at the same time their inner sight, or sight of the mind, and their outer sight, or sight of the eyes. (that the light of heaven is divine truth or divine wisdom may be seen above, n. - .) the angels are also in heavenly heat, which in its essence is divine good or divine love, and from that they have an affection and longing to become wise. (that the heat of heaven is divine good or divine love may be seen above, n. - .) that the angels are in wisdom, even to the extent that they may be called wisdoms, follows from the fact that their thoughts and affections all flow in accordance with the heavenly form, and this form is the form of divine wisdom; also that their interiors, which are recipients of wisdom, are arranged in that form. (that the thoughts and affections of angels flow in accordance with the form of heaven, and consequently their intelligence and wisdom, may be seen above, n. - .) [ ] that the angels have supereminent wisdom is shown also by the fact that their speech is the speech of wisdom, for it flows directly and spontaneously from thought, and their thought from their affection, thus their speech is thought from affection in outward form; consequently there is nothing to withdraw them from the divine influx, and nothing from without such as enters into the speech of man from other thoughts. (that the speech of angels is the speech of their thought and affection may be seen above, n. - .) that the angels have such wisdom is in accord with the fact that all things that they behold with their eyes and perceive by their senses agree with their wisdom, since they are correspondences of it, and thus the objects perceived are representative forms of the things that constitute their wisdom. (that all things seen in the heavens are correspondences with the interiors of angels and representations of their wisdom may be seen above, n. - .) [ ] furthermore, the thoughts of angels are not limited and contracted by ideas from space and time, as human thoughts are, for spaces and times belong to nature, and the things that belong to nature withdraw the mind from spiritual things, and deprive intellectual sight of its proper range. (that the ideas of angels are apart from time and space, and thus less limited than human ideas, may be seen above, n. - and - .) again, the thoughts of angels are neither brought down to earthly and material things, nor interrupted by anxieties about the necessities of life; thus they are not withdrawn by such things from the delights of wisdom, as the thoughts of men in the world are; for all things come to them gratuitously from the lord; they are clothed gratuitously, are fed gratuitously, are housed gratuitously (n. - ), and besides this they receive delights and pleasures in the degree of their reception of wisdom from the lord. these things have been said to make clear why it is that angels have so great wisdom.{ } {footnote } the wisdom of angels, that it is incomprehensible and ineffable (n. , , , , , , , ). . angels are capable of receiving such wisdom because their interiors are open; and wisdom, like every other perfection, increases towards the interiors, thus to the extent that interiors are opened.{ } in every angel there are three degrees of life, corresponding to the three heavens (see n. - )--those in whom the first degree has been opened are in the first or outmost heaven; those in whom the second degree has been opened are in the second or middle heaven; while those in whom the third degree has been opened are in the third or inmost heaven. the wisdom of angels in the heavens is in accordance with these degrees. therefore the wisdom of the angels of the inmost heaven immeasurably surpasses the wisdom of angels of the middle heaven, and the wisdom of these immeasurably surpasses the wisdom of angels of the outmost heaven (see above, n. , ; and what degrees are, n. ). there are such differences because the things which are in the higher degree are particulars, and those in the lower degree are generals, and generals are containants of particulars. particulars compared with generals are as thousands or myriads to one; and such is the wisdom of the angels of a higher heaven compared with the wisdom of the angels of a lower heaven. in like manner the wisdom of the latter surpasses the wisdom of man, for man is in a bodily state and in those things that belong to the bodily senses, and man's bodily sense belongs to the lowest degree. this makes clear what kind of wisdom those possess who think from things of sense, that is, who are called sensual men, namely, that they have no wisdom, but merely knowledge.{ } but it is otherwise with men whose thoughts are raised above the things of sense, and especially with those whose interiors have been opened even into the light of heaven. {footnote } so far as man is raised up from outward towards inward things he comes into light, that is, into intelligence (n. , ). there is an actual elevation (n. , ). elevation from outward to inward things is like elevation out of a mist into light (n. ). as outer things in man are farther removed from the divine they are relatively obscure (n. ). likewise relatively confused (n. , ). inner things are more perfect because they are nearer to the divine (n. , ). in what is internal there are thousands and thousands of things that appear in what is external as one general thing (n. ). consequently as thought and perception are more interior they are clearer (n. ). {footnote } the sensual is the outmost of man's life adhering to and inhering in his bodily part (n. , , , , , ). he is called a sensual man who judges all things and draws all his conclusions from the bodily senses, and believes nothing except what he sees with his eyes and touches with his hands (n. , ). such a man thinks in externals, and not interiorly in himself (n. , , , ). his interiors are so closed up that he sees nothing of spiritual truth in them (n. , , ). in a word, he is in gross natural light and thus perceives nothing that is from the light of heaven (n. , , , , , , , , , ). interiorly he is antagonistic to the things of heaven and the church (n. , , , , , ). the learned who have confirmed themselves against the truths of the church come to be such (n. ). sensual men are more cunning and malicious than others (n. , ). they reason keenly and cunningly, but from the bodily memory, in which they place all intelligence (n. , , , ). but they reason from the fallacies of the senses (n. , , , ). . it can be seen how great the wisdom of angels is from the fact that in the heavens there is a communication of all things; intelligence and wisdom are communicated from one to another, and heaven is a common sharing of all goods; and this for the reason that heavenly love is such that it wishes what is its own to be another's; consequently no one in heaven perceives his own good in himself to be good unless it is also in another; and this is the source of the happiness of heaven. this the angels derive from the lord, for such is his divine love. that there is such a communication of all things in the heavens it has been permitted me to know by experience. certain simple spirits were at one time taken up into heaven, and when there they entered into angelic wisdom, and then understood things that they were never before able to comprehend, and spoke things that they were unable to utter in their former state. . the wisdom of the angels is indescribable in words; it can only be illustrated by some general things. angels can express in a single word what a man cannot express in a thousand words. again, a single angelic word contains innumerable things that cannot be expressed in the words of human language; for in each of the things uttered by angels there are arcana of wisdom in continuous connection that human knowledges never reach. again, what the angels fail to express in the words of their speech they make up by the tone, in which there is an affection for the things in their order; for (as has been said above, n. , ) tones express affections, as words express ideas of thought from the affections; and for this reason the things heard in heaven are said to be ineffable. so, too, the angels are able to express in a few words every least thing written in an entire volume, and give to every word meanings that elevate the mind to interior wisdom; for their speech is such as to be in accord with their affections, and each word is in accord with their ideas; and their words are varied in infinite ways in accord with the series of things which in complex are in the thought. [ ] still again, the interior angels are able to perceive from the tone and from a few words the entire life of one speaking; for from the tone as varied by the ideas in the words they perceive his ruling love upon which, as it were, every particular of his life is inscribed.{ } all this makes clear the nature of angelic wisdom. in comparison with human wisdom it is as a myriad to one, or as the moving forces of the whole body, which are numberless, to the activities from them which appear to human sense as a single thing, or as the thousand particulars of an object seen under a perfect microscope to the one obscure thing seen by the naked eye. [ ] let me illustrate the subject by an example. an angel from his wisdom was describing regeneration, and brought forward arcana respecting it in their order even to some hundreds, filling each of them with ideas in which there were interior arcana, and this from beginning to end; for he explained how the spiritual man is conceived anew, is carried as it were in the womb, is born, grows up and is gradually perfected. he said that the number of arcana could be increased even to thousands, and that those told were only about the regeneration of the external man, while there were numberless more about the regeneration of the internal man. from these and other like things heard from the angels it has been made clear to me how great is their wisdom, and how great in comparison is the ignorance of man, who scarcely knows what regeneration is, and is ignorant of every least step of the process when he is being regenerated. {footnote } that which universally rules or is dominant in man is in every particular of his life, thus in each thing and all things of his thought and affection (n. , , , , , , - ). a man is such as his ruling love is (n. , , ); illustrated by examples (n. , ). that which rules universally constitutes the life of the spirit of man (n. ). it is his very will, his very love, and the end of his life, since that which a man will he loves, and that which he loves he has as an end (n. , , , , , , ). therefore man is such as his will is, or such as his ruling love is, or such as the end of his life is (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). . the wisdom of the angels of the third or inmost heaven shall now be described, and also how far it surpasses the wisdom of the angels of the first or outmost heaven. the wisdom of the angels of the third or inmost heaven is incomprehensible even to those who are in the outmost heaven, for the reason that the interiors of the angels of the third heaven have been opened to the third degree, while the interiors of angels of the first heaven have been opened only to the first degree; and all wisdom increases towards interiors and is perfected as these are opened (n. , ). [ ] because the interiors of the angels of the third or inmost heaven have been opened to the third degree, divine truths are as it were inscribed on them; for the interiors of the third degree are more in the form of heaven than the interiors of the second and first degrees, and the form of heaven is from the divine truth, thus in accord with the divine wisdom, and this is why the truth is as it were inscribed on these angels, or are as it were instinctive or inborn in them. therefore as soon as these angels hear genuine divine truths they instantly acknowledge and perceive them, and afterwards see them as it were inwardly in themselves. as the angels of that heaven are such they never reason about divine truths, still less do they dispute about any truth whether it is so or not; nor do they know what it is to believe or to have faith. they say, "what is faith? for i perceive and see that a thing is so." this they illustrate by comparisons; for example, that it would be as when any one with a companion, seeing a house and the various things in it and around it, should say to his companion that he ought to believe that these things exist, and that they are such as he sees them to be; or seeing a garden and trees and fruit in it, should say to his companion that he ought to have faith that there is a garden and trees and fruits, when yet he is seeing them clearly with his eyes. for this reason these angels never mention faith, and have no idea what it is; neither do they reason about divine truths, still less do they dispute about any truth whether it is so or not.{ } [ ] but the angels of the first or outmost heaven do not have divine truths thus inscribed on their interiors, because with them only the first degree of life is opened; therefore they reason about truths, and those who reason see almost nothing beyond the fact of the matter about which they are reasoning, or go no farther beyond the subject than to confirm it by certain considerations, and having confirmed it they say that it must be a matter of faith and must be believed. [ ] i have talked with angels about this, and they said that the difference between the wisdom of the angels of the third heaven and the wisdom of the angels of the first heaven is like that between what is clear and what is obscure; and the former they compared to a magnificent palace full of all things for use, surrounded on all sides by parks, with magnificent things of many kinds round about them; and as these angels are in the truths of wisdom they can enter into the palace and behold all things, and wander about in the parks in every direction and delight in it all. but it is not so with those who reason about truths, especially with those who dispute about them, as such do not see truths from the light of truth, but accept truths either from others or from the sense of the letter of the word, which they do not interiorly understand, declaring that truths must be believed, or that one must have faith, and are not willing to have any interior sight admitted into these things. the angels said that such are unable to reach the first threshold of the palace of wisdom, still less to enter into it and wander about in its grounds, for they stop at the first step. it is not so with those that are in truths themselves; nothing impedes these from going on and progressing without limit, for the truths they see lead them wherever they go, and into wide fields, for every truth has infinite extension and is in conjunction with manifold others. [ ] they said still further that the wisdom of the angels of the inmost heaven consists principally in this, that they see divine and heavenly things in every single object, and wonderful things in a series of many objects; for everything that appears before their eyes is a correspondent; as when they see palaces and gardens their view does not dwell upon the things that are before their eyes, but they see the interior things from which they spring, that is, to which they correspond, and this with all variety in accordance with the aspect of the objects; thus they see innumerable things at the same time in their order and connection; and this so fills their minds with delight that they seem to be carried away from themselves. that all things that are seen in the heavens correspond to the divine things that are in the angels from the lord may be seen above (n. - ). {footnote } the celestial angels know innumerable things, and are immeasurably wiser than the spiritual angels (n. ). the celestial angels do not think and talk from faith, as the spiritual angels do, for they have from the lord a perception of all things that constitute faith (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). in regard to the truths of faith they say only "yea, yea, or nay, nay," while the spiritual angels reason about whether a thing is true (n. , , , , , where the lord's words, "let your discourse be yea, yea, nay nay" (matt. : ), are explained). . such are the angels of the third heaven because they are in love to the lord, and that love opens the interiors of the mind to the third degree, and is a receptacle of all things of wisdom. it must be understood also that the angels of the inmost heaven are still being continually perfected in wisdom, and this differently from the angels of the outmost heaven. the angels of the inmost heaven do not store up divine truths in the memory and thus make out of them a kind of science; but as soon as they hear them they perceive them and apply them to the life. for this reason divine truths are as permanent with them as if they were inscribed on them, for what is committed in such a way to the life is contained in it. but it is not so with the angels of the outmost heaven. these first store up divine truths in the memory and stow them away with their knowledge, and draw them out therefrom to perfect their understanding by them, and will them and apply them to the life, but with no interior perception whether they are truths; and in consequence they are in comparative obscurity. it is a notable fact that the angels of the third heaven are perfected in wisdom by hearing and not by seeing. what they hear from preachings does not enter into their memory, but enters directly into their perception and will, and comes to be a matter of life; but what they see with their eyes enters into their memory, and they reason and talk about it; which shows that with them the way of hearing is the way of wisdom. this, too, is from correspondence, for the ear corresponds to obedience, and obedience belongs to the life; while the eye corresponds to intelligence, and intelligence is a matter of doctrine.{ } the state of these angels is described in different parts of the word, as in jeremiah: i will put my law in their mind, and write it on their heart. they shall teach no more everyone his friend and everyone his brother, saying, know ye jehovah; for they shall all know me, from the least of them even unto the greatest of them ( : , ). and in matthew, let your speech be yea, yea, nay, nay; what is more than these is from evil ( : ). "what is more than these is from evil" because it is not from the lord; and inasmuch as the angels of the third heaven are in love to the lord the truths that are in them are from the lord. in that heaven love to the lord is willing and doing divine truth, for divine truth is the lord in heaven. {footnote } of the correspondence of the ear and of hearing (n. - ). the ear corresponds to and therefore signifies perception and obedience (n. , , , , , , , , ). the ear signifies the reception of truths (n. , , ). the correspondence of the eye and its sight (n. - , - ); from which the sight of the eye signifies the intelligence that belongs to faith, and also faith (n. , , , , ). . there is a still further reason, and this is in heaven the primary reason, why the angels are able to receive so great wisdom, namely, that they are without the love of self; for to the extent that any one is without the love of self he can become wise in divine things. it is that love that closes up the interiors against the lord and heaven, and opens the exteriors and turns them toward itself; and in consequence all in whom that love rules are in thick darkness in respect to the things of heaven, however much light they may have in worldly matters. the angels, on the other hand, are in the light of wisdom because they are without the love of self, for the heavenly loves in which they are, which are love to the lord and love towards the neighbor, open the interiors, because these loves are from the lord and the lord himself is in them. (that these loves constitute heaven in general, and form heaven in each one in particular, may be seen above, n. - ). as heavenly loves open the interiors to the lord so all angels turn their faces towards the lord (n. ); because in the spiritual world the love turns the interiors of everyone to itself, and whichever way it turns the interiors it also turns the face, since the face there makes one with the interiors, for it is their outward form. because the love turns the interiors and the face to itself, it also conjoins itself to them (love being spiritual conjunction), and shares its own with them. from that turning and consequent conjunction and sharing the angels have their wisdom. that all conjunction and all turning in the spiritual world are in accord may be seen above (n. ). . although the angels are continually perfected in wisdom,{ } their wisdom, even to eternity, cannot become so perfect that there can be any ratio between it and the lord's divine wisdom; for the lord's divine wisdom is infinite and the wisdom of angels finite; and between what is infinite and what is finite no ratio is possible. {footnote } angels are perfected to eternity (n. , ). . as it is wisdom that makes the angels perfect and constitutes their life, and as heaven with its goods flows into everyone in accordance with his wisdom, so all in heaven desire and hunger for wisdom much as a hungry man hungers for food. so, too, knowledge, intelligence, and wisdom are spiritual nutriment, as food is natural nutriment; and the one corresponds to the other. . the angels in the same heaven, or in the same society of heaven, are not all in like wisdom; their wisdom differs. those at the center are in the greatest wisdom, and those round about even to the borders are in less wisdom. the decrease of wisdom in accord with the distance from the center is like the decrease of light verging to shade (see n. and ). their light is in the same degree as their wisdom, since the light of heaven is the divine wisdom, and everyone is in light in the measure of his reception of wisdom. respecting the light of heaven and the varying kinds of reception of it see above (n. - ). . xxxi. the state of innocence of angels in heaven. what innocence is and its nature few in the world know, and those who are in evil know nothing about it. it is, indeed, visible to the eyes, as seen in the face, speech and movements, particularly of children; and yet what innocence is, and especially that it is that in which heaven is stored up in man is unknown. in making this known let us proceed in order, and consider first the innocence of childhood, then the innocence of wisdom, and lastly the state of heaven in regard to innocence. . the innocence of childhood or of children is not genuine innocence, for it is innocence not in internal form but only in external form. nevertheless one may learn from it what innocence is, since it shines forth from the face of children and from some of their movements and from their first speech, and affects those about them. it can be seen that children have no internal thought, for they do not yet know what is good and what is evil, or what is true and what is false, of which such thought consists. [ ] consequently they have no prudence from what is their own, no purpose or deliberation, thus no end that looks to evil; neither have they anything of their own acquired from love of self and the world; they do not attribute anything to themselves, regarding all that they have as received from their parents; they are content with the few and paltry things presented to them, and find delight in them; they have no solicitude about food and clothing, and none about the future; they do not look to the world and covet many things from it; they love their parents and nurses and their child companions with whom they play in innocence; they suffer themselves to be led; they give heed and obey. [ ] and being in this state they receive everything as a matter of life; and therefore, without knowing why, they have becoming manners, and also learn to talk, and have the beginning of memory and thought, their state of innocence serving as a medium whereby these things are received and implanted. but this innocence, as has been said above, is external because it belongs to the body alone, and not to the mind;{ } for their minds are not yet formed, the mind being understanding and will and thought and affection therefrom. [ ] i have been told from heaven that children are specially under the lord's auspices, and that they receive influx from the inmost heaven, where there is a state of innocence that this influx passes through their interiors, and that in its passing through, their interiors are affected solely by the innocence; and for this reason innocence is shown in their faces and in some of their movements and becomes evident; and that it is this innocence by which parents are inmostly affected, and that gives rise to the love that is called storge. {footnote } the innocence of children is not true innocence, but true innocence has its abode in wisdom (n. , , , , , , , , ). the good of childhood is not spiritual good, but it becomes such by the implantation of truth (n. ). nevertheless the good of childhood is a medium whereby intelligence is implanted (n. , , , ). without the good of innocence in childhood man would be a wild man (n. ). whatever the mind is imbued with in childhood appears natural (n. ). . the innocence of wisdom is genuine innocence, because it is internal, for it belongs to the mind itself, that is, to the will itself and from that to the understanding. and when there is innocence in these there is also wisdom, for wisdom belongs to the will and understanding. this is why it is said in heaven that innocence has its abode in wisdom, and that an angel has just so much of innocence as he has of wisdom. this is confirmed by the fact that those who are in a state of innocence attribute nothing of good to themselves, but regard all things as received and ascribe them to the lord; that they wish to be led by him and not by themselves; that they love everything that is good and find delight in everything that is true, because they know and perceive that loving what is good, that is, willing and doing it, is loving the lord, and loving truth is loving the neighbor; that they live contented with their own, whether it be little or much, because they know that they receive just as much as is good for them-those receiving little for whom a little is useful, and those receiving much for whom much is useful; also that they do not themselves know what is good for them, the lord alone knowing this, who looks in all things that he provides to what is eternal. [ ] neither are they anxious about the future; anxiety about the future they call care for the morrow, which they define as grief on account of losing or not receiving things that are not necessary for the uses of life. with companions they never act from an evil end but from what is good, just, and sincere. acting from an evil end they call cunning, which they shun as the poison of a serpent, since it is wholly antagonistic to innocence. as they love nothing so much as to be led of the lord, attributing all things they receive to him, they are kept apart from what is their own [proprium]; and to the extent that they are kept apart from what is their own the lord flows into them; and in consequence of this whatever they hear from the lord, whether through the word or by means of preaching, they do not store up in the memory, but instantly obey it, that is, will it and do it, their will being itself their memory. these for the most part outwardly appear simple, but inwardly they are wise and prudent. these are meant by the lord in the words, be ye prudent as serpents and simple as doves (matt. : ). such is the innocence that is called the innocence of wisdom. [ ] because innocence attributes nothing of good to itself, but ascribes all good to the lord, and because it thus loves to be led by the lord, and is the source of the reception of all good and truth, from which wisdom comes,--because of this man is so created as to be during his childhood in external innocence, and when he becomes old in internal innocence, to the end that he may come by means of the former into the latter, and from the latter return into the former. for the same reason when a man becomes old he dwindles in body and becomes again like a child, but like a wise child, that is, an angel, for a wise child is in an eminent sense an angel. this is why in the word, "a little child" signifies one who is innocent, and "an old man" signifies one who is wise in whom is innocence.{ } {footnote } in the word "little children" signify innocence (n. ); likewise "sucklings" (n. ). an "old man" signifies one who is wise, and in an abstract sense wisdom (n. , ). man is so created that in proportion as he verges towards old age he may become like a little child, and that innocence may then be in his wisdom, and in that state he may pass into heaven and become an angel (n. , ). . the same is true of everyone who is being regenerated. regeneration, as regards the spiritual man, is re-birth. man is first introduced into the innocence of childhood, which is that one knows no truth and can do no good from himself, but only from the lord, and desires and seeks truth only because it is truth, and good only because it is good. as man afterwards advances in age good and truth are given him by the lord. at first he is led into a knowledge of them, then from knowledge into intelligence, and finally from intelligence into wisdom, innocence always accompanying, which consists, as has been said, in his knowing nothing of truth, and being unable to do anything good from himself but only from the lord. without such a belief and such a perception of it no one can receive any thing of heaven. therein does the innocence of wisdom chiefly consist. . as innocence consists in being led by the lord and not by self, so all who are in heaven are in innocence; for all who are there love to be led by the lord, knowing that to lead themselves is to be led by what is their own, and what is one's own is loving oneself, he that loves himself not permitting himself to be led by any one else. therefore, so far as an angel is in innocence he is in heaven, in other words, is in divine good and divine truth, for to be in these is to be in heaven. consequently the heavens are distinguished by degrees of innocence-those who are in the outmost or first heaven are in innocence of the first or outmost degree; those who are in the middle or second heaven are in innocence of the second or middle degree; while those who are in the inmost or third heaven are in innocence of the third or inmost degree, and are therefore the veriest innocences of heaven, for more than all others they love to be led by the lord as little children by their father; and for the same reason the divine truth that they hear immediately from the lord or mediately through the word and preaching they take directly into their will and do it, thus committing it to life. and this is why their wisdom is so superior to that of the angels of the lower heavens (see n. , ). these angels of the inmost heaven, being such are nearest to the lord from whom they receive innocence, and are so separated from what is their own that they live as it were in the lord. externally they appear simple, and before the eyes of the angels of the lower heavens they appear like children, that is, as very small, and not very wise, although they are the wisest of the angels of heaven; since they know that they have nothing of wisdom from themselves, and that acknowledging this is being wise. they know also that what they know is as nothing compared to what they do not know; and they say that knowing, acknowledging, and perceiving this is the first step towards wisdom. these angels have no clothing, because nakedness corresponds to innocence.{ } {footnote } all in the inmost heaven are innocences (n. , , ). therefore they appear to others like children (n. ). they are also naked (n. , , ). nakedness belongs to innocence (n. , ). spirits have a custom of exhibiting innocence by laying aside their garments and presenting themselves naked (n. , , ). . i have talked much with angels about innocence, and have been told that innocence is the being [esse] of all good, and that good is therefore so far good as it has innocence in it, consequently that wisdom is so far wisdom as it partakes of innocence; and the same is true of love, charity, and faith;{ } and therefore no one can enter heaven unless he possesses innocence; and this the lord teaches when he says: suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of the heavens. verily i say unto you, whoever shall not receive the kingdom of the heavens as a little child, he shall not enter into it (mark : , ; luke : , ), here as elsewhere in the word "little children" mean those who are innocent. a state of innocence is also described by the lord in matthew ( : - ), but by correspondences only. good is good so far as it has innocence in it, for the reason that all good is from the lord, and innocence is a willingness to be led by the lord. i have also been told that truth can be conjoined to good and good to truth only by means of innocence, and therefore an angel is not an angel of heaven unless he has innocence in him; for heaven is not in any one until good is conjoined to truth in him; and this is why the conjunction of truth and good is called the heavenly marriage, and the heavenly marriage is heaven. again, i have been told that true marriage love derives its existence from innocence, because it derives its existence from the conjunction of good and truth, and the two minds of husband and wife are in that conjunction, and when that conjunction descends it presents the appearance of marriage love; for consorts are in mutual love, as their minds are. this is why in marriage love there is a playfulness like that of childhood and like that of innocence.{ } {footnote } every good of love and truth of faith, to be good and true must have innocence in it (n. , , , , , , , ). innocence is the essential of good and truth (n. , ). no one is admitted into heaven unless he possesses something of innocence ( ). {footnote } true marriage love is innocence (n. ). marriage love consists in willing what the other wills, thus mutually and reciprocally (n. ). they who are in marriage love dwell together in the inmosts of life (n. ). there is a union of the two minds, and thus from love they are a one (n. , ). true marriage love derives its origin and essence from the marriage of good and truth (n. , ). about angelic spirits who have a perception from the idea of the conjunction of good and truth whether anything of marriage exists (n. ). marriage love is wholly like the conjunction of good and truth (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). therefore in the word "marriage" means the marriage of good and truth, such as there is in heaven and such as there will be in the church (n. , , ). . because innocence with the angels of heaven is the very being [esse] of good, it is evident that the divine good that goes forth from the lord is innocence itself, for it is that good that flows into angels, and affects their inmosts, and arranges and fits them for receiving all the good of heaven. it is the same with children, whose interiors are not only formed by means of innocence flowing through them from the lord, but also are continually being fitted and arranged for receiving the good of heavenly love, since the good of innocence acts from the inmost; for that good, as has been said, is the being [esse] of all good. from all this it can be seen that all innocence is from the lord. for this reason the lord is called in the word a "lamb," a lamb signifying innocence.{ } because innocence is the inmost in all the good of heaven, it so affects minds that when it is felt by any one-as when an angel of the inmost heaven approaches-he seems to himself to be no longer his own master and is moved and as it were carried away by such a delight that no delight of the world seems to be anything in comparison with it. this i say from having perceived it. {footnote } in the word a "lamb" signifies innocence and its good. (n. , ). . everyone who is in the good of innocence is affected by innocence, and is affected to the extent that he is in that good; but those who are not in the good of innocence are not affected by innocence. for this reason all who are in hell are wholly antagonistic to innocence; they do not know what it is; their antagonism is such that so far as any one is innocent they burn to do him mischief; therefore they cannot bear to see little children; and as soon as they see them they are inflamed with a cruel desire to do them harm. from this it is clear that what is man's own, and therefore the love of self, is antagonistic to innocence; for all who are in hell are in what is their own, and therefore in the love of self.{ } {footnote } what is man's own is loving self more than god, and the world more than heaven, and making one's neighbor of no account as compared with oneself; thus it is the love of self and of the world (n. , , , ). the evil are wholly antagonistic to innocence, even to the extent that they cannot endure its presence (n. ). . xxxii. the state of peace in heaven. only those that have experienced the peace of heaven can have any perception of the peace in which the angels are. as man is unable, as long as he is in the body, to receive the peace of heaven, so he can have no perception of it, because his perception is confined to what is natural. to perceive it he must be able, in respect to thought, to be raised up and withdrawn from the body and kept in the spirit, and at the same time be with angels. in this way has the peace of heaven been perceived by me; and for this reason i am able to describe it, yet not in words as that peace is in itself, because human words are inadequate, but only as it is in comparison with that rest of mind that those enjoy who are content in god. . there are two inmost things of heaven, namely, innocence and peace. these are said to be inmost things because they proceed directly from the lord. from innocence comes every good of heaven, and from peace every delight of good. every good has its delight; and both good and delight spring from love, for whatever is loved is called good, and is also perceived as delightful. from this it follows that these two inmost things, innocence and peace, go forth from the lord's divine love and move the angels from what is inmost. that innocence is the inmost of good may be seen in the preceding chapter, where the state of innocence of the angels of heaven is described. that peace is the inmost of delight from the good of innocence shall now be explained. . the origin of peace shall be first considered. divine peace is in the lord; it springs from the union of the divine itself and the divine human in him. the divine of peace in heaven is from the lord, springing from his conjunction with the angels of heaven, and in particular from the conjunction of good and truth in each angel. these are the origins of peace. from this it can be seen that peace in the heavens is the divine inmostly affecting with blessedness everything good therefrom, and from this is every joy of heaven; also that it is in its essence the divine joy of the lord's divine love, resulting from his conjunction with heaven and with everyone there. this joy, felt by the lord in angels and by angels from the lord, is peace. by derivation from this the angels have everything that is blessed, delightful, and happy, or that which is called heavenly joy.{ } {footnote } by peace in the highest sense the lord is meant, because peace is from him, and in the internal sense heaven is meant, because those are in a state of peace (n. , ). peace in the heavens is the divine inmostly affecting with blessedness everything good and true there, and this peace is incomprehensible to man (n. , , , , ). divine peace is in good, but not in truth apart from good (n. ). . because these are the origins of peace the lord is called "the prince of peace," and he declares that from him is peace and in him is peace; and the angels are called angels of peace, and heaven is called a habitation of peace, as in the following passages: unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder; and his name shall be called wonderful, counsellor, god, mighty, father of eternity, prince of peace. of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end (isa. : , ). jesus said, peace i leave with you, my peace i give unto you; not as the world giveth give i unto you (john : ). these things have i spoken unto you that in me ye may have peace (john : ). jehovah lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace (num. : ). the angels of peace weep bitterly, the highways are wasted (isa. : , ). the work of righteousness shall be peace; and my people shall dwell in a habitation of peace (isa. : , ). [ ] that it is divine and heavenly peace that is meant in the word by "peace" can be seen also from other passages where it is mentioned (as isa. : ; : ; : ; jer. : ; : ; : ; hag. : ; zech. : ; psalm : ; and elsewhere.) because "peace" means the lord and heaven, and also heavenly joy and the delight of good, "peace be with you" was an ancient form of salutation that is still in use; and it was ratified by the lord in his saying to the disciples whom he sent forth: into whatsoever house ye enter, first say, peace be to this house; and if a son of peace be there, your peace shall rest upon it (luke : , ). and when the lord himself appeared to the apostles, he said peace be with you (john : , , ). [ ] a state of peace is also meant in the word where it is said that: jehovah smelled an odor of rest (as exod. : , , ; lev. : , , ; : , ; : , ; : , , ; num, : , , ; : , , ; : , , , , ). "odor of rest" in the heavenly sense signifies a perception of peace.{ } as peace signifies the union of the divine itself and the divine human in the lord, also the conjunction of the lord with heaven and with the church, and with all who are in heaven, and with all in the church who receive him, so the sabbath was instituted as a reminder of these things, its name meaning rest or peace, and was the most holy representative of the church. for the same reason the lord called himself "the lord of the sabbath" (matt. : ; mark : , ; luke : ).{ } {footnote } in the word an "odor" signifies the perception of agreeableness or disagreeableness, according to the quality of the love and faith of which it is predicated (n. , , , , , ). an "odor of rest," in reference to jehovah, means a perception of peace (n. , ). this is why frankincense, incense, and odors in oils and ointments, became representative (n. , , , ). {footnote } the "sabbath" signifies in the highest sense the union of the divine itself and the divine human in the lord; in the internal sense the conjunction of the divine human of the lord with heaven and with the church; in general, the conjunction of good and truth, thus the heavenly marriage (n. , , ). therefore "rest on the sabbath day" signified the state of that union, because then the lord had rest, and thereby there is peace and salvation in the heavens and on the earth; and in a relative sense it signified the conjunction of the lord with man, because man then has peace and salvation (n. , , , , , , , ). . because the peace of heaven is the divine inmostly affecting with blessedness the veriest good in angels, it can be clearly perceived by them only in the delight of their hearts when they are in the good of their life, in the pleasure with which they hear truth that agrees with their good, and in gladness of mind when they perceive the conjunction of good and truth. from this it flows into all the acts and thoughts of their life, and there presents itself as joy, even in outward appearance. [ ] but peace in the heavens differs in quality and quantity in agreement with the innocence of those who are there; since innocence and peace walk hand in hand; for every good of heaven, as said above, is from innocence, and every delight of that good is from peace. evidently, then, the same that has been said in the foregoing chapter about the state of innocence in the heavens may be said here of the state of peace there, since innocence and peace are conjoined like good and its delight; for good is felt in its delight, and delight is known from its good. this being so, it is evident that angels of the inmost or third heaven are in the third or inmost degree of peace, because they are in the third or inmost degree of innocence; and that angels of the lower heavens are in a less degree of peace, because they are in a less degree of innocence (see above n. ). [ ] that innocence and peace go together like good and its delight can be seen in little children, who are in peace because they are in innocence, and because they are in peace are in their whole nature full of play. yet the peace of little children is external peace; while internal peace, like internal innocence, is possible only in wisdom, and for this reason only in the conjunction of good and truth, since wisdom is from that conjunction. heavenly or angelic peace is also possible in men who are in wisdom from the conjunction of good and truth, and who in consequence have a sense of content in god; nevertheless, while they live in the world this peace lies hidden in their interiors, but it is revealed when they leave the body and enter heaven, for their interiors are then opened. . as the divine peace springs from the conjunction of the lord with heaven, and specially from the conjunction of good and truth in each angel, so when the angels are in a state of love they are in a state of peace; for then good and truth are conjoined in them. (that the states of angels undergo successive changes may be seen above, n. - .) the like is true also of a man who is being regenerated. as soon as good and truth come to be conjoined in him, which takes place especially after temptations, he comes into a state of delight from heavenly peace.{ } this peace may be likened to morning or dawn in spring time, when, the night being passed, with the rising of the sun all things of the earth begin to live anew, the fragrance of growing vegetation is spread abroad with the dew that descends from heaven, and the mild vernal temperature gives fertility to the ground and imparts pleasure to the minds of men, and this because morning or dawn in the time of spring corresponds to the state of peace of angels in heaven (see n. ).{ } {footnote } the conjunction of good and truth in a man who is being regenerated is effected in a state of peace (n. , ). {footnote } the state of peace in the heavens is like a state of dawn or springtime on the earth (n. , , ). . i have talked with the angels about peace, saying that what is called peace in the world is when wars and hostilities cease between kingdoms, and when enmities or hostilities cease among men; also that internal peace is believed to consist in rest of mind when cares are removed, especially in tranquility and enjoyment from success in affairs. but the angels said that rest of mind and tranquility and enjoyment from the removal of cares and success in affairs seem to be constituents of peace, but are so only with those who are in heavenly good, for only in that good is peace possible. for peace flows in from the lord into the inmost of such, and from their inmost descends and flows down into the lower faculties, producing a sense of rest in the mind, tranquility of disposition, and joy therefrom. but to those who are in evil peace is impossible.{ } there is an appearance of rest, tranquility, and delight when things succeed according to their wishes; but it is external peace and not at all internal, for inwardly they burn with enmity, hatred, revenge, cruelty, and many evil lusts, into which their disposition is carried whenever any one is seen to be unfavorable to them, and which burst forth when they are not restrained by fear. consequently the delight of such dwells in insanity, while the delight of those who are in good dwells in wisdom. the difference is like that between hell and heaven. {footnote } the lusts that originate in love of self and of the world wholly take away peace (n. , ). there are some who think to find peace in restlessness, and in such things as are contrary to peace (n. ). peace is possible only when the lusts of evil are removed (n. ). . xxxiii. the conjunction of heaven with the human race. it is well known in the church that all good is from god, and that nothing of good is from man, consequently that no one ought to ascribe any good to himself as his own. it is also well known that evil is from the devil. therefore those who speak from the doctrine of the church say of those who behave well, and of those who speak and preach piously, that they are led by god; but the opposite of those who do not behave well and who speak impiously. for this to be true man must have conjunction with heaven and with hell; and this conjunction must be with man's will and with his understanding; for it is from these that the body acts and the mouth speaks. what this conjunction is shall now be told. . with every individual there are good spirits and evil spirits. through good spirits man has conjunction with heaven, and through evil spirits with hell. these spirits are in the world of spirits, which lies midway between heaven and hell. this world will be described particularly hereafter. when these spirits come to a man they enter into his entire memory, and thus into his entire thought, evil spirits into the evil things of his memory and thought, and good spirits into the good things of his memory and thought. these spirits have no knowledge whatever that they are with man; but when they are with him they believe that all things of his memory and thought are their own; neither do they see the man, because nothing that is in our solar world falls into their sight.{ } the lord exercises the greatest care that spirits may not know that they are with man; for if they knew it they would talk with him, and in that case evil spirits would destroy him; for evil spirits, being joined with hell, desire nothing so much as to destroy man, not alone his soul, that is, his faith and love, but also his body. it is otherwise when spirits do not talk with man, in which case they are not aware that what they are thinking and also what they are saying among themselves is from man; for although it is from man that they talk with one another, they believe that what they are thinking and saying is their own, and everyone esteems and loves what is their own. in this way spirits are constrained to love and esteem man, although they do not know it. that such is the conjunction of spirits with man has become so well known to me from a continual experience of many years that nothing is better known to me. {footnote } there are angels and spirits with every man, and by means of them man has communication with the spiritual world (n. , , , , , , - , - ). man without spirits attending him cannot live (n. ). man is not seen by spirits, even as spirits are not seen by man (n. ). spirits can see nothing in our solar world pertaining to any man except the one with whom they are speaking (n. ). . the reason why spirits that communicate with hell are also associated with man is that man is born into evils of every kind, consequently his whole life is wholly from evil; and therefore unless spirits like himself were associated with him he could not live, nor indeed could he be withdrawn from his evils and reformed. he is therefore both held in his own life by means of evil spirits and withheld from it by means of good spirits; and by the two he is kept in equilibrium; and being in equilibrium he is in freedom, and can be drawn away from evils and turned towards good, and thus good can be implanted in him, which would not be possible at all if he were not in freedom; and freedom is possible to man only when the spirits from hell act on one side and spirits from heaven on the other, and man is between the two. again, it has been shown that so far as a man's life is from what he inherits, and thus from self, if he were not permitted to be in evil he would have no life; also if he were not in freedom he would have no life; also that he cannot be forced to what is good, and that what is forced does not abide; also that the good that man receives in freedom is implanted in his will and becomes as it were his own.{ } these are the reasons why man has communication with hell and communication with heaven. {footnote } all freedom pertains to love and affection, since what a man loves, that he does freely (n. , , , , , ). as freedom belongs to man's love, so it belongs to man's life (n. ). nothing appears as man's own except what is from freedom (n. ). man must have freedom that he may be reformed (n. , , , , , , , , ). otherwise no love of good and truth can be implanted in man and be appropriated seemingly as his own (n. , , , , ). nothing that comes from compulsion is conjoined to man (n. , ). if man could be reformed by compulsion everyone would be reformed (n. ). compulsion in reformation is harmful (n. ). what states of compulsion are (n. ). . what the communication of heaven is with good spirits, and what the communication of hell is with evil spirits, and the consequent conjunction of heaven and hell with man, shall also be told. all spirits who are in the world of spirits have communication with heaven or with hell, evil spirits with hell, and good spirits with heaven. heaven is divided into societies, and hell also. every spirit belongs to some society, and continues to exist by influx from it, thus acting as one with it. consequently as man is conjoined with spirits so is he conjoined with heaven or with hell, even with the society there to which he is attached by his affection or his love; for the societies of heaven are all distinguished from each other in accordance with their affections for good and truth, and the societies of hell in accordance with their affections for evil and falsity. (as to the societies of heaven see above, n. - also n. - .) . the spirits associated with man are such as he himself is in respect to his affection or love; but the lord associates good spirits with him, while evil spirits are invited by the man himself. the spirits with man, however, are changed in accordance with the changes of his affections; thus there are some spirits that are with him in early childhood, others in boyhood, others in youth and manhood, and others in old age. in early childhood those spirits are present who are in innocence and who thus communicate with the heaven of innocence, which is the inmost or third heaven; in boyhood those spirits are present who are in affection for knowing, and who thus communicate with the outmost or first heaven; in youth and manhood spirits are present who are in affection for what is true and good, and in consequent intelligence, and who thus communicate with the second or middle heaven; while in old age spirits are present who are in wisdom and innocence, and who thus communicate with the inmost or third heaven. but the lord maintains this association with such as can be reformed and regenerated. it is otherwise with such as cannot be reformed or regenerated. while with these also good spirits are associated, that they may be thereby withheld from evil as much as possible, they are directly conjoined with evil spirits who communicate with hell, whereby they have such spirits with them as are like themselves. if they are lovers of self or lovers of gain, or lovers of revenge, or lovers of adultery, like spirits are present, and as it were dwell in their evil affections; and man is incited by these, except so far as he can be kept from evil by good spirits, and they cling to him, and do not withdraw, so far as the evil affection prevails. thus it is that a bad man is conjoined to hell and a good man is conjoined to heaven. . man is governed by the lord through spirits because he is not in the order of heaven, for he is born into evils which are of hell, thus into the complete opposite of divine order; consequently he needs to be brought back into order, and this can only be done mediately by means of spirits. it would be otherwise if man were born into the good that is in accord with the order of heaven; then he would be governed by the lord not through spirits, but by means of the order itself, thus by means of general influx. by means of this influx man is governed in respect to whatever goes forth from his thought and will into act, that is, in respect to speech and acts; for both of these proceed in harmony with natural order, and therefore with these the spirits associated with man have nothing in common. animals also are governed by means of this general influx from the spiritual world, because they are in the order of their life, and animals have not been able to pervert and destroy that order because they have no rational faculty.{ } what the difference between man and beasts is may be seen above (n. ). {footnote } the difference between men and beasts is, that men are capable of being raised up by the lord to himself, of thinking about the divine, loving it, and being thereby conjoined to the lord, from which they have eternal life; but it is otherwise with beasts (n. , , ). beasts are in the order of their life, and are therefore born into things suitable to their nature, but man is not, and he must therefore be led into the order of his life by intellectual means (n. , , ). according to general influx thought with man falls into speech and will into movements (n. , , , ). the general influx of the spiritual world into the lives of beasts (n. , ). . as to what further concerns the conjunction of heaven with the human race, let it be noted that the lord himself flows into each man, in accord with the order of heaven, both into his inmosts and into his outmosts, and arranges him for receiving heaven, and governs his outmosts from his inmosts, and at the same time his inmosts from his outmosts, thus holding in connection each thing and all things in man. this influx of the lord is called direct influx; while the other influx that is effected through spirits is called mediate influx. the latter is maintained by means of the former. direct influx, which is that of the lord himself, is from his divine human, and is into man's will and through his will into his understanding, and thus into his good and through his good into his truth, or what is the same thing, into his love and through his love into his faith; and not the reverse, still less is it into faith apart from love or into truth apart from good or into understanding that is not from will. this divine influx is unceasing, and in the good is received in good, but not in the evil; for in them it is either rejected or suffocated or perverted; and in consequence they have an evil life which in a spiritual sense is death.{ } {footnote } there is direct influx from the lord, and also mediate influx through the spiritual world (n. , , , , ). the lord's direct influx is into the least particulars of all things (n. , - , , ). the lord flows in into firsts and at the same time into lasts-in what manner (n. , , , , , ). the lord's influx is into the good in man, and through the good into truth and not the reverse (n. , , , , , ). the life that flows in from the lord varies in accordance with the state of man and in accordance with reception (n. , , , ). with the evil the good that flows in from the lord is turned into evil and the truth into falsity; from experience (n. , ). the good and the truth therefrom that continually flow in from the lord are received just to the extent that evil and falsity therefrom do not obstruct (n. , , , ). . the spirits who are with man, both those conjoined with heaven and those conjoined with hell, never flow into man from their own memory and its thought, for if they should flow in from their own thought, whatever belonged to them would seem to man to be his (see above n. ). nevertheless there flows into man through them out of heaven an affection belonging to the love of good and truth, and out of hell an affection belonging to the love of evil and falsity. therefore as far as man's affection agrees with the affection that flows in, so far that affection is received by him in his thought, since man's interior thought is wholly in accord with his affection or love; but so far as man's affection does not agree with that affection it is not received. evidently, then, since thought is not introduced into man through spirits, but only an affection for good and an affection for evil, man has choice, because he has freedom; and is thus able by his thought to receive good and reject evil, since he knows from the word what is good and what is evil. moreover, whatever he receives by thought from affection is appropriated to him; but whatever he does not receive by thought from affection is not appropriated to him. all this makes evident the nature of the influx of good out of heaven with man, and the nature of the influx of evil out of hell. . i have also been permitted to learn the source of human anxiety, grief of mind, and interior sadness, which is called melancholy. there are spirits not as yet in conjunction with hell, because they are in their first state; these will be described hereafter when treating of the world of spirits. such spirits love things undigested and pernicious, such as pertain to food becoming foul in the stomach; consequently they are present with man in such things because they find delight in them; and they talk there with one another from their own evil affection. the affection that is in their speech flows in from this source into man; and when this affection is the opposite of man's affection there arises in him sadness and melancholy anxiety; but when it agrees with it it becomes in him gladness and cheerfulness. these spirits appear near to the stomach, some to the left and some to the right of it, and some beneath and some above, also nearer and more remote, thus variously in accordance with their affections. that this is the source of anxiety of mind has been shown and proved to me by much experience. i have seen these spirits, i have heard them, i have felt the anxieties arising from them, and i have talked with them; when they have been driven away the anxiety ceased; when they returned the anxiety returned; and i have noted the increase and decrease of it according to their approach and removal. from this it has been made clear to me why some who do not know what conscience is, because they have no conscience, ascribe its pangs to the stomach.{ } {footnote } those who have no conscience do not know what conscience is (n. , ). there are some who laugh at conscience when they hear what it is (n. ). some believe that conscience is nothing; some that it is something natural that is sad and mournful, arising either from causes in the body or from causes in the world; some that it is something that the common people get from their religion (n. , , ; [tcr n. ]). there is true conscience, spurious conscience, and false conscience (n. ). pain of conscience is an anxiety of mind on account of what is unjust, insincere, or in any respect evil, which man believes to be against god and against the good of the neighbor (n. ). those have conscience who are in love to god and in charity towards the neighbor, but those who are not so have no conscience (n. , , , ). . the conjunction of heaven with man is not like the conjunction of one man with another, but the conjunction is with the interiors of man's mind, that is, with his spiritual or internal man; although there is a conjunction with his natural or external man by means of correspondences, which will be described in the next chapter where the conjunction of heaven with man by means of the word will be treated of. . it will also be shown in the next chapter that the conjunction of heaven with the human race and of the human race with heaven is such that one has its permanent existence with the other. . i have talked with angels about the conjunction of heaven with the human race, saying that while the man of the church declares that all good is from god, and that angels are with man, yet few believe that angels are conjoined to man, still less that they are in his thought and affection. the angels replied that they knew that such a belief and such a mode of speaking still exist in the world, and especially, to their surprise, within the church, where the word is present to teach men about heaven and its conjunction with man; nevertheless, there is such a conjunction that man is unable to think the least thing unless spirits are associated with him, and on this his spiritual life depends. they said that the cause of ignorance in this matter is man's belief that he lives from himself, and that he has no connection with the first being [esse] of life; together with his not knowing that this connection exists by means of the heavens; and yet if that connection were broken man would instantly fall dead. if man only believed, as is really true, that all good is from the lord and all evil from hell, he would neither make the good in him a matter of merit nor would evil be imputed to him; for he would then look to the lord in all the good he thinks and does, and all the evil that flows in would be cast down to hell from which it comes. but because man does not believe that anything flows into him either from heaven or from hell, and therefore supposes that all things that he thinks and wills are in himself and therefore from himself, he appropriates the evil to himself, and the good that flows in he defiles with merit. . xxxiv. conjunction of heaven with man by means of the word. those who think from interior reason can see that there is a connection of all things through intermediates with the first, and that whatever is not in connection is dissipated. for they know, when they think about it, that nothing can have permanent existence from itself, but only from what is prior to itself, thus all things from a first; also that the connection with what is prior is like the connection of an effect with its effecting cause; for when the effecting cause is taken away from its effect the effect is dissolved and dispersed. because the learned thought thus they saw and said that permanent existence is a perpetual springing forth; thus that all things have permanent existence from a first; and as they sprang from that first so they perpetually spring forth, that is, have permanent existence from it. but what the connection of everything is with that which is prior to itself, thus with the first which is the source of all things, cannot be told in a few words, because it is various and diverse. it can only be said in general that there is a connection of the natural world with the spiritual world, and that in consequence there is a correspondence of all things in the natural world with all things in the spiritual (see n. - ); also that there is a connection and consequently a correspondence of all things of man with all things of heaven (see n. - ). . man is so created as to have a conjunction and connection with the lord, but with the angels of heaven only an affiliation. man has affiliation with the angels, but not conjunction, because in respect to the interiors of his mind man is by creation like an angel, having a like will and a like understanding. consequently if a man has lived in accordance with the divine order he becomes after death an angel, with the same wisdom as an angel. therefore when the conjunction of man with heaven is spoken of his conjunction with the lord and affiliation with the angels is meant; for heaven is heaven from the lord's divine, and not from what is strictly the angels' own [proprium]. that it is the lord's divine that makes heaven may be seen above (n. - ). [ ] but man has, beyond what the angels have, that he is not only in respect to his interiors in the spiritual world, but also at the same time in respect to his exteriors in the natural world. his exteriors which are in the natural world are all things of his natural or external memory and of his thought and imagination therefrom; in general, knowledges and sciences with their delights and pleasures so far as they savor of the world, also many pleasures belonging to the senses of the body, together with his senses themselves, his speech, and his actions. and all these are the outmosts in which the lord's divine influx terminates; for that influx does not stop midway, but goes on to its outmosts. all this shows that the outmost of divine order is in man; and being the outmost it is also the base and foundation. [ ] as the lord's divine influx does not stop midway but goes on to its outmosts, as has been said, and as this middle part through which it passes is the angelic heaven, while the outmost is in man, and as nothing can exist unconnected, it follows that the connection and conjunction of heaven with the human race is such that one has its permanent existence from the other, and that the human race apart from heaven would be like a chain without a hook; and heaven without the human race would be like a house without a foundation.{ } {footnote } nothing springs from itself, but from what is prior to itself, thus all things from a first, and they also have permanent existence from him from whom they spring forth, and permanent existence is a perpetual springing forth (n. , , , , , , , , ). divine order does not stop midway, but terminates in an outmost, and that outmost is man, thus divine order terminates in man (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). interior things flow into external things, even into the extreme or outmost in successive order, and there they spring forth and have permanent existence (n. , , , , ). interior things spring forth and have permanent existence in what is outmost in simultaneous order (n. , , , ). therefore all interior things are held together in connection from a first by means of a last (n. ). therefore "the first and the last" signify all things and each thing, that is, the whole (n. , , ). consequently in outmosts there is strength and power (n. ). . but man has severed this connection with heaven by turning his exteriors away from heaven, and turning them to the world and to self by means of his love of self and of the world, thereby so withdrawing himself that he no longer serves as a basis and foundation for heaven; therefore the lord has provided a medium to serve in place of this base and foundation for heaven, and also for the conjunction of heaven with man. this medium is the word. how the word serves as such a medium has been shown in many places in the arcana coelestia, all of which may be seen gathered up in the little work on the white horse mentioned in the apocalypse; also in the appendix to the new jerusalem and its heavenly doctrine, from which some notes are here appended.{ } {footnote } the word in the sense of the letter is natural (n. ). for the reason that the natural is the outmost in which spiritual and heavenly things, which are interior things, terminate and on which they rest, like a house upon its foundation (n. , , , , ). that the word may be such it is composed wholly of correspondences (n. , , , , , , , , , ). because the word is such in the sense of the letter it is the containant of the spiritual and heavenly sense (n. ). and it is adapted both to men and to angels (n. - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). and it is what makes heaven and earth one (n. , , , , , , ). the conjunction of the lord with man is through the word, by means of the internal sense (n. ). there is conjunction by means of all things and each particular thing of the word, and in consequence the word is wonderful above all other writing (n. - ). since the word was written the lord speaks with men by means of it (n. ). the church, where the word is and the lord is known by means of it, in relation to those who are out of the church where there is no word and the lord is unknown is like the heart and lungs in man in comparison with the other parts of the body, which live from them as from the fountains of their life (n. , , , ). before the lord the universal church on the earth is as a single man (n. , ). consequently unless there were on this earth a church where the word is, and where the lord is known by means of it, the human race here would perish (n. , , , , ). . i have been told from heaven that the most ancient people, because their interiors were turned heavenwards, had direct revelation, and by this means there was at that time a conjunction of the lord with the human race. after their times, however, there was no such direct revelation, but there was a mediate revelation by means of correspondences, inasmuch as all their divine worship then consisted of correspondences, and for this reason the churches of that time were called representative churches. for it was then known what correspondence is and what representation is, and that all things on the earth correspond to spiritual things in heaven and in the church, or what is the same, represent them; and therefore the natural things that constituted the externals of their worship served them as mediums for thinking spiritually, that is, thinking with the angels. when the knowledge of correspondences and representations had been blotted out of remembrance a word was written, in which all the words and their meanings are correspondences, and thus contain a spiritual or internal sense, in which are the angels; and in consequence, when a man reads the word and perceives it according to the sense of the letter or the outer sense the angels perceive it according to the internal or spiritual sense; for all the thought of angels is spiritual while the thought of man is natural. these two kinds of thought appear diverse; nevertheless they are one because they correspond. thus it was that when man had separated himself from heaven and had severed the bond the lord provided a medium of conjunction of heaven with man by means of the word. . how heaven is conjoined with man by means of the word i will illustrate by some passages from it. "the new jerusalem" is described in the apocalypse in these words: i saw a new heaven and a new earth, and the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. and i saw the holy city new jerusalem coming down from god out of heaven. the city was foursquare, its length as great as its breadth; and an angel measured the city with a reed, twelve thousand furlongs; the length, the breadth, and the height of it are equal. and he measured the wall thereof, an hundred and forty-four cubits, the measure of a man, that is, of an angel. the building of the wall was of jasper; but the city itself was pure gold, and like unto pure glass; and the foundations of the wall were adorned with every precious stone. the twelve gates were twelve pearls; and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass ( : , , - , ). when man reads these words he understands them merely in accordance with the sense of the letter, namely, that the visible heaven with the earth is to perish, and a new heaven is to come into existence; and upon the new earth the holy city jerusalem is to descend, with all its dimensions as here described. but the angels that are with man understand these things in a wholly different way, that is, everything that man understands naturally they understand spiritually. [ ] by "the new heaven and the new earth" they understand a new church; by "the city jerusalem coming down from god out of heaven" they understand its heavenly doctrine revealed by the lord; by "its length, breadth, and height, which are equal," and "twelve thousand furlongs," they understand all the goods and truths of that doctrine in the complex; by its "wall" they understand the truths protecting it; by "the measure of the wall, a hundred and forty-four cubits, which is the measure of a man, that is, of an angel," they understand all those protecting truths in the complex and their character; by its "twelve gates, which were of pearls," they understand introductory truths, "pearls" signifying such truths; by "the foundations of the wall, which were of precious stones," they understand the knowledge on which that doctrine is founded; by "the gold like unto pure glass," of which the city and its street were made, they understand the good of love which makes the doctrine and its truths transparent. thus do the angels perceive all these things; and therefore not as man perceives them. the natural ideas of man thus pass into the spiritual ideas with the angels without their knowing anything of the sense of the letter of the word, that is, about "a new heaven and a new earth," "a new city jerusalem," its "wall, the foundations of the wall, and its dimensions." and yet the thoughts of angels make one with the thoughts of man, because they correspond; they make one almost the same as the words of a speaker make one with the understanding of them by a hearer who attends solely to the meaning and not to the words. all this shows how heaven is conjoined with man by means of the word: [ ] let us take another example from the word: in that day there shall be a highway from egypt to assyria, and assyria shall come into egypt and egypt into assyria; and the egyptians shall serve assyria. in that day shall israel be a third to egypt and to assyria, a blessing in the midst of the land, which jehovah of hosts shall bless, saying, blessed be my people the egyptian, and the assyrian the work of my hands, and israel mine inheritance (isaiah : - ). what man thinks when these words are read, and what the angels think, can be seen from the sense of the letter of the word and from its internal sense. man from the sense of the letter thinks that the egyptians and assyrians are to be converted to god and accepted, and are then to become one with the israelitish nation; but angels in accordance with the internal sense think of the man of the spiritual church who is here described in that sense, whose spiritual is "israel," whose natural is the "egyptian," and whose rational, which is the middle, is the "assyrian."{ } nevertheless, these two senses are one because they correspond; and therefore when the angels thus think spiritually and man naturally they are conjoined almost as body and soul are; in fact, the internal sense of the word is its soul and the sense of the letter is its body. such is the word throughout. this shows that it is a medium of conjunction of heaven with man, and that its literal sense serves as a base and foundation. {footnote } in the word "egypt" and "egyptian" signify the natural and its knowledge (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). "assyria" signifies the rational (n. , ). "israel" signifies the spiritual (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). . there is also a conjunction of heaven by means of the word with those who are outside of the church where there is no word; for the lord's church is universal, and is with all who acknowledge the divine and live in charity. moreover, such are taught after death by the angels and receive divine truths;{ } on which subject more may be seen below, in the chapter on the heathen. the universal church on the earth in the sight of the lord resembles a single man, just as heaven does (see n. - ); but the church where the word is and where the lord is known by means of it is like the heart and lungs in that man. it is known that all the viscera and members of the entire body draw their life from the heart and lungs through various derivations; and it is thus that those of the human race live who are outside of the church where the word is, and who constitute the members of that man. again, the conjunction of heaven with those who are at a distance by means of the word may be compared to light radiating from a center all around. the divine light is in the word, and there the lord with heaven is present, and from that presence those at a distance are in light; but it would be otherwise if there were no word. this may be more clearly seen from what has been shown above respecting the form of heaven in accordance with which all who are in heaven have affiliation and communication. but while this arcanum may be comprehended by those who are in spiritual light, it cannot be comprehended by those who are only in natural light; for innumerable things are clearly seen by those who are in spiritual light that are not seen or are seen obscurely as a single thing by those who are only in natural light. {footnote } the church specifically is where the word is and where the lord is known by means of it, thus where divine truths from heaven are revealed (n. , ). the lord's church is with all in the whole globe who live in good in accordance with the principles of their religion (n. , , ). all wherever they are who live in good in accordance with the principles of their religion and who acknowledge the divine are accepted of the lord (n. - , , , , , , , ). and besides these all children wheresoever they are born (n. - , ). . unless such a word had been given on this earth the man of this earth would have been separated from heaven; and if separated from heaven he would have ceased to be rational, for the human rational exists by an influx of the light of heaven. again, the man of this earth is such that he is not capable of receiving direct revelation and of being taught about divine truths by such revelation, as the inhabitants of other earths are, that have been especially described in another small work. for the man of this earth is more in worldly things, that is, in externals, than the men of other earths, and it is internal things that are receptive of revelation; if it were received in external things the truth would not be understood. that such is the man of this earth is clearly evident from the state of those who are within the church, which is such that while they know from the word about heaven, about hell, about the life after death, still in heart they deny these things; although among them there are some who have acquired a pre-eminent reputation for learning, and who might for that reason be supposed to be wiser than others. . i have at times talked with angels about the word, saying that it is despised by some on account of its simple style; and that nothing whatever is known about its internal sense, and for this reason it is not believed that so much wisdom lies hid in it. the angels said that although the style of the word seems simple in the sense of the letter, it is such that nothing can ever be compared to it in excellence, since divine wisdom lies concealed not only in the meaning as a whole but also in each word; and that in heaven this wisdom shines forth. they wished to declare that this wisdom is the light of heaven, because it is divine truth, for that which shines in heaven is the divine truth (see n. ). again, they said that without such a word there would be no light of heaven with the men of our earth, nor would there be any conjunction of heaven with them; for there is conjunction only so far as the light of heaven is present with man, and that light is present only so far as divine truth is revealed to man by means of the word. this conjunction by means of the correspondence of the spiritual sense of the word with its natural sense is unknown to man, because the man of this earth knows nothing about the spiritual thought and speech of angels, and how it differs from the natural thought and speech of men; and until this is known it cannot in the least be known what the internal sense is, and that such conjunction is therefore possible by means of that sense. they said, furthermore, that if this sense were known to man, and if man in reading the word were to think in accordance with some knowledge of it, he would come into interior wisdom, and would be still more conjoined with heaven, since by this means he would enter into ideas like the ideas of the angels. . xxxv. heaven and hell are from the human race. in the christian world it is wholly unknown that heaven and hell are from the human race, for it is believed that in the beginning angels were created and heaven was thus formed; also that the devil or satan was an angel of light, but having rebelled he was cast down with his crew, and thus hell was formed. the angels never cease to wonder at such a belief in the christian world, and still more that nothing is really known about heaven, when in fact that is the primary principle of all doctrine in the church. but since such ignorance prevails they rejoice in heart that it has pleased the lord to reveal to mankind at this time many things about heaven and about hell, thereby dispelling as far as possible the darkness that has been daily increasing because the church has come to its end. [ ] they wish for this reason that i should declare from their lips that in the entire heaven there is not a single angel who was created such from the beginning, nor in hell any devil who was created an angel of light and cast down; but that all, both in heaven and in hell, are from the human race; in heaven those who lived in the world in heavenly love and belief, in hell those who lived in infernal love and belief, also that it is hell taken as a whole that is called the devil and satan-the name devil being given to the hell that is behind, where those are that are called evil genii, and the name satan being given to the hell that is in front, where those are that are called evil spirits.{ } the character of these hells will be described in the following pages. [ ] the angels said that the christian world had gathered such a belief about those in heaven and those in hell from some passages in the word understood according to the mere sense of the letter not illustrated and explained by genuine doctrine from the word; although the sense of the letter of the word until illuminated by genuine doctrine, draws the mind in different directions, and this begets ignorance, heresies, and errors.{ } {footnote } the hells taken together, or the infernals taken together, are called the devil and satan (n. ). those that have been devils in the world become devils after death (n. ). {footnote } the doctrine of the church must be derived from the word (n. , , , , , ). without doctrine the word is not understood (n. , , , , , , ). true doctrine is a lamp to those who read the word (n. ). genuine doctrine must be from those who are enlightened by the lord (n. , , , , ). those who are in the sense of the letter without doctrine come into no understanding of divine truths (n. , , ). and they are led away into many errors (n. ). the difference between those who teach and learn from the doctrine of the church derived from the word and those who teach and learn from the sense of the letter alone (n. ). . the man of the church also derives this belief from his believing that no man comes into heaven or into hell until the time of the final judgment; and about that he has accepted the opinion that all visible things will perish at that time and new things will come into existence, and that the soul will then return into its body, and from that union man will again live as a man. this belief involves the other-that angels were created such from the beginning; for it is impossible to believe that heaven and hell are from the human race when it is believed that no man can go there until the end of the world. [ ] but that men might be convinced that this is not true it has been granted me to be in company with angels, and also to talk with those who are in hell, and this now for some years, sometimes continuously from morning until evening, and thus be informed about heaven and hell. this has been permitted that the man of the church may no longer continue in his erroneous belief about the resurrection at the time of judgment, and about the state of the soul in the meanwhile, also about angels and the devil. as this belief is a belief in what is false it involves the mind in darkness, and with those who think about these things from their own intelligence it induces doubt and at length denial, for they say in heart, "how can so vast a heaven, with so many constellations and with the sun and moon, be destroyed and dissipated; and how can the stars which are larger than the earth fall from heaven to the earth; and can bodies eaten up by worms, consumed by corruption, and scattered to all the winds, be gathered together again to their souls; and where in the meantime is the soul, and what is it when deprived of the senses it had in the body?" [ ] with many other like things, which being incomprehensible cannot be believed, and which destroy the belief of many in the life of the soul after death, and their belief in heaven and hell, and with these other matters pertaining to the faith of the church. that this belief has been destroyed is evident from its being said, "who has ever come to us from heaven and told us that there is a heaven? what is hell? is there any? what is this about man's being tormented with fire to eternity? what is the day of judgment? has it not been expected in vain for ages?" with other things that involve a denial of everything. [ ] therefore lest those who think in this way-as many do who from their worldly wisdom are regarded as erudite and learned-should any longer confound and mislead the simple in faith and heart, and induce infernal darkness respecting god and heaven and eternal life, and all else that depends on these, the interiors of my spirit have been opened by the lord, and i have thus been permitted to talk with all after their decease with whom i was ever acquainted in the life of the body-with some for days, with some for months, and with some for a year, and also with so many others that i should not exaggerate if i should say a hundred thousand; many of whom were in heaven, and many in hell. i have also talked with some two days after their decease, and have told them that their funeral services and obsequies were then being held in preparation for their interment; to which they replied that it was well to cast aside that which had served them as a body and for bodily functions in the world; and they wished me to say that they were not dead, but were living as men the same as before, and had merely migrated from one world into the other, and were not aware of having lost anything, since they had a body and its senses just as before, also understanding and will just as before, with thoughts and affections, sensations and desires, like those they had in the world. [ ] most of those who had recently died, when they saw themselves to be living men as before, and in a like state (for after death everyone's state of life is at first such as it was in the world, but there is a gradual change in it either into heaven or into hell), were moved by new joy at being alive, saying that they had not believed that it would be so. but they greatly wondered that they should have lived in such ignorance and blindness about the state of their life after death; and especially that the man of the church should be in such ignorance and blindness, when above all others in the whole world he might be clearly enlightened in regard to these things.{ } then they began to see the cause of that blindness and ignorance, which is, that external things which are things, relating to the world and the body, had so occupied and filled their minds that they could not be raised into the light of heaven and look into the things of the church beyond its doctrinals; for when matters relating to the body and the world are loved, as they are at the present day, nothing but darkness flows into the mind when men go beyond those doctrines. {footnote } there are few in christendom at this day who believe that man rises again immediately after death (preface to genesis, chap. and n. , ); but it is believed that he will rise again at the time of the final judgment, when the visible world will perish (n. ). the reason of this belief (n. , ). nevertheless man does rise again immediately after death, and then he is a man in all respects, and in every least respect (n. , , , , , , ). the soul that lives after death is the spirit of man, which in man is the man himself, and in the other life is in a complete human form (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ); from experience (n. , , ); from the word (n. ). what is meant by the dead seen in the holy city (matt. : ) explained (n. ). in what manner man is raised from the dead, from experience (n. - ). his state after his resurrection (n. - , , , ). false opinions about the soul and its resurrection (n. , , , , ). . very many of the learned from the christian world are astonished when they find themselves after death in a body, in garments, and in houses, as in the world. and when they recall what they had thought about the life after death, the soul, spirits, and heaven and hell, they are ashamed and confess that they thought foolishly, and that the simple in faith thought much more wisely than they. when the minds of learned men who had confirmed themselves in such ideas and had ascribed all things to nature were examined, it was found that their interiors were wholly closed up and their exteriors were opened, that they looked towards the world and thus towards hell and not towards heaven. for to the extent that man's interiors are opened he looks towards heaven, but to the extent that his interiors are closed and his exteriors opened he looks towards hell, because the interiors of man are formed for the reception of all things of heaven, but the exteriors for the reception of all things of the world; and those who receive the world, and not heaven also, receive hell.{ } {footnote } in man the spiritual world and the natural world are conjoined (n. ). the internal of man is formed after the image of heaven, but the external after the image of the world (n. , , , , , , , ). . that heaven is from the human race can be seen also from the fact that angelic minds and human minds are alike, both enjoying the ability to understand, perceive and will, and both formed to receive heaven; for the human mind is just as capable of becoming wise as the angelic mind; and if it does not attain to such wisdom in the world it is because it is in an earthly body, and in that body its spiritual mind thinks naturally. but it is otherwise when the mind is loosed from the bonds of that body; then it no longer thinks naturally, but spiritually, and when it thinks spiritually its thoughts are incomprehensible and ineffable to the natural man; thus it becomes wise like an angel, all of which shows that the internal part of man, called his spirit, is in its essence an angel (see above, n. );{ } and when loosed from the earthly body is, equally with the angel, in the human form. (that an angel is in a complete human form may be seen above, n. - .) when, however, the internal of man is not open above but only beneath, it is still, after it has been loosed from the body, in a human form, but a horrible and diabolical form, for it is able only to look downwards towards hell, and not upwards towards heaven. {footnote } there are as many degrees of life in man as there are heavens, and they are opened after death in accordance with his life (n. , ). heaven is in man (n. ). men who are living a life of love and charity have in them angelic wisdom, although it is for the time hidden, but they come into that wisdom after death (n. ). the man who receives from the lord the good of love and of faith is called in the word an angel (n. ). . moreover, any one who has been taught about divine order can understand that man was created to become an angel, because the outmost of order is in him (n. ), in which what pertains to heavenly and angelic wisdom can be brought into form and can be renewed and multiplied. divine order never stops midway to form there a something apart from an outmost, for it is not in its fullness and completion there; but it goes on to the outmost; and when it is in its outmost it takes on its form, and by means there collected it renews itself and produces itself further, which is accomplished through procreations. therefore the seed-ground of heaven is in the outmost. . the lord rose again not as to his spirit alone but also as to his body, because when he was in the world he glorified his whole human, that is, made it divine; for his soul which he had from the father was of itself the very divine, while his body became a likeness of the soul, that is, of the father, thus also divine. this is why he, differently from any man, rose again as to both;{ } and this he made manifest to the disciples (who when they saw him believed that they saw a spirit), by saying: see my hands and my feet, that it is i myself; handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye behold me having (luke : - ); indicating thereby that he was a man both in respect to his spirit and in respect to his body. {footnote } man rises again only as to his spirit (n. , ). the lord alone rose again in respect also to his body (n. , , , ). . that it might be made clear that man lives after death and enters in accordance with his life in the world either into heaven or into hell, many things have been disclosed to me about the state of man after death, which will be presented in due order in the following pages, where the world of spirits is treated of. . xxxvi. the heathen, or peoples outside of the church, in heaven. there is a general opinion that those born outside of the church, who are called the nations, or heathen, cannot be saved, because not having the word they know nothing about the lord, and apart from the lord there is no salvation. but that these also are saved this alone makes certain, that the mercy of the lord is universal, that is, extends to every individual; that these equally with those within the church, who are few in comparison, are born men, and that their ignorance of the lord is not their fault. any one who thinks from any enlightened reason can see that no man is born for hell, for the lord is love itself and his love is to will the salvation of all. therefore he has provided a religion for everyone, and by it acknowledgment of the divine and interior life; for to live in accordance with one's religion is to live interiorly, since one then looks to the divine, and so far as he looks to the divine he does not look to the world but separates himself from the world, that is, from the life of the world, which is exterior life.{ } {footnote } the heathen equally with the christians are saved (n. , , , , , , , , ). the lot of the nations and peoples outside of the church in the other life (n. - ). the church is specifically where the word is, and by it the lord is known (n. , ). nevertheless, those born where the word is and where the lord is known are not on that account of the church, but only those who live a life of charity and of faith (n. , , , , , ). the lord's church is with all in the whole world who live in good in accordance with their religion and acknowledge a divine, and such are accepted of the lord and come into heaven (n. - , , , , , , , ). . that the heathen equally with christians are saved any one can see who knows what it is that makes heaven in man; for heaven is within man, and those that have heaven within them come into heaven. heaven with man is acknowledging the divine and being led by the divine. the first and chief thing of every religion is to acknowledge the divine. a religion that does not acknowledge the divine is no religion. the precepts of every religion look to worship; thus to the way in which the divine is to be worshiped that the worship may be acceptable to him; and when this has been settled in one's mind, that is, so far as one wills this or so far as he loves it, he is led by the lord. everyone knows that the heathen as well as christians live a moral life, and many of them a better life than christians. moral life may be lived either out of regard to the divine or out of regard to men in the world; and a moral life that is lived out of regard to the divine is a spiritual life. in outward form the two appear alike, but in inward form they are wholly different; the one saves man, the other does not. for he who lives a moral life out of regard to the divine is led by the divine; while he who leads a moral life out of regard to men in the world is led by himself. [ ] but this may be illustrated by an example. he that refrains from doing evil to his neighbor because it is antagonistic to religion, that is, antagonistic to the divine, refrains from doing evil from a spiritual motive; but he that refrains from doing evil to another merely from fear of the law, or the loss of reputation, of honor, or gain, that is, from regard to self and the world, refrains from doing evil from a natural motive, and is led by himself. the life of the latter is natural, that of the former is spiritual. a man whose moral life is spiritual has heaven within him; but he whose moral life is merely natural does not have heaven within him; and for the reason that heaven flows in from above and opens man's interiors, and through his interiors flows into his exteriors; while the world flows in from beneath and opens the exteriors but not the interiors. for there can be no flowing in from the natural world into the spiritual, but only from the spiritual world into the natural; therefore if heaven is not also received, the interiors remain closed. all this makes clear who those are that receive heaven within them, and who do not. [ ] and yet heaven is not the same in one as in another. it differs in each one in accordance with his affection for good and its truth. those that are in an affection for good out of regard to the divine, love divine truth, since good and truth love each other and desire to be conjoined.{ } this explains why the heathen, although they are not in genuine truths in the world, yet because of their love receive truths in the other life. {footnote } between good and truth there is a kind of marriage (n. , , ). good and truth are in a perpetual endeavor to be conjoined, and good longs for truth and for conjunction with it (n. , , ). how the conjunction of good and truth takes place, and in whom (n. , , , , , , , , , , - , ). . a certain spirit from among the heathen who had lived in the world in good of charity in accordance with his religion, hearing christian spirits reasoning about what must be believed, (for spirits reason with each other far more thoroughly and acutely than men, especially about what is good and true,) wondered at such contentions, and said that he did not care to listen to them, for they reasoned from appearances and fallacies; and he gave them this instruction: "if i am good i can know from the good itself what is true; and what i do not know i can receive." . i have been taught in many ways that the heathen who have led a moral life and have lived in obedience and subordination and mutual charity in accordance with their religion, and have thus received something of conscience, are accepted in the other life, and are there instructed with solicitous care by the angels in the goods and truths of faith; and that when they are being taught they behave themselves modestly, intelligently, and wisely, and readily accept truths and adopt them. they have not worked out for themselves any principles of falsity antagonistic to the truths of faith that will need to be shaken off, still less cavils against the lord, as many christians have who cherish no other idea of him than that he is an ordinary man. the heathen on the contrary when they hear that god has become a man, and has thus manifested himself in the world, immediately acknowledge it and worship the lord, saying that because god is the god of heaven and of earth, and because the human race is his, he has fully disclosed himself to men.{ } it is a divine truth that apart from the lord there is no salvation; but this is to be understood to mean that there is no salvation except from the lord. there are many earths in the universe, and all of them full of inhabitants, scarcely any of whom know that the lord took on the human on our earth. yet because they worship the divine under a human form they are accepted and led by the lord. on this subject more may be seen in the little work on the earths in the universe. {footnote } difference between the good in which the heathen are and that in which christians are (n. , ). truths with the heathen (n. , , ). the interiors cannot be so closed up with the heathen as with christians (n. ). neither can so thick a cloud exist with the heathen who live in mutual charity in accordance with their religion as with christians who live in no charity; the reasons (n. , ). the heathen cannot profane the holy things of the church as the christians do, because they are ignorant of them (n. , , ). they have a fear of christians on account of their lives (n. , ). those that have lived well in accordance with their religion are taught by angels and readily accept the truths of faith and acknowledge the lord (n. , , , , , , , , ). . among the heathen, as among christians, there are both wise and simple. that i might learn about them i have been permitted to speak with both, sometimes for hours and days. but there are no such wise men now as in ancient times, especially in the ancient church, which extended over a large part of the asiatic world, and from which religion spread to many nations. that i might wholly know about them i have been permitted to have familiar conversation with some of these wise men. there was with me one who was among the wiser of his time, and consequently well known in the learned world, with whom i talked on various subjects, and had reason to believe that it was cicero. knowing that he was a wise man i talked with him about wisdom, intelligence, order, and the word, and lastly about the lord. [ ] of wisdom he said that there is no other wisdom than the wisdom of life, and that wisdom can be predicated of nothing else; of intelligence that it is from wisdom; of order, that it is from the supreme god, and that to live in that order is to be wise and intelligent. as to the word, when i read to him something from the prophets he was greatly delighted, especially with this, that every name and every word signified interior things; and he wondered greatly that learned men at this day are not delighted with such study. i saw plainly that the interiors of his thought or mind had been opened. he said that he was unable to hear more, as he perceived something more holy than he could bear, being affected so interiorly. [ ] at length i spoke with him about the lord, saying that while he was born a man he was conceived of god, and that he put off the maternal human and put on the divine human, and that it is he that governs the universe. to this he replied that he knew some things concerning the lord, and perceived in his way that if mankind were to be saved it could not have been done otherwise. in the meantime some bad christians infused various cavils; but to these he gave no attention, remarking that this was not strange, since in the life of the body they had imbibed unbecoming ideas on the subject, and until they got rid of these they could not admit ideas that confirmed the truth, as the ignorant can. . it has also been granted me to talk with others who lived in ancient times, and who were then among the more wise. at first they appeared in front at a distance, and were able then to perceive the interiors of my thoughts, thus many things fully. from one idea of thought they were able to discern the entire series and fill it with delightful things of wisdom combined with charming representations. from this they were perceived to be among the more wise, and i was told that they were some of the ancient people; and when they came nearer i read to them something from the word, and they were delighted beyond measure. i perceived the essence of their delight and gratification, which arose chiefly from this, that all things and each thing they heard from the word were representative and significative of heavenly and spiritual things. they said that in their time, when they lived in the world, their mode of thinking and speaking and also of writing was of this nature, and that this was their pursuit of wisdom. . but as regards the heathen of the present day, they are not so wise, but most of them are simple in heart. nevertheless, those of them that have lived in mutual charity receive wisdom in the other life, and of these one or two examples may be cited. when i read the seventeenth and eighteenth chapters of judges (about micah, and how the sons of dan carried away his graven image and teraphim and levite) a heathen spirit was present who in the life of the body had worshiped a graven image. he listened attentively to the account of what was done to micah, and his grief on account of his graven image which the danites took away, and such grief came upon him and moved him that he scarcely knew, by reason of inward distress, what to think. not only was this grief perceived, but also the innocence that was in all his affections. the christian spirits that were present watched him and wondered that a worshiper of a graven image should have so great a feeling of sympathy and innocence stirred in him. afterwards some good spirits talked with him, saying that graven images should not be worshiped, and that being a man he was capable of understanding this; that he ought, apart from a graven image, to think of god the creator and ruler of the whole heaven and the whole earth, and that god is the lord. when this was said i was permitted to perceive the interior nature of his adoration, which was communicated to me; and it was much more holy than is the case of christians, this makes clear that at the present day the heathen come into heaven with less difficulty than christians, according to the lord's words in luke: then shall they come from the east and the west, and from the north and the south, and shall recline in the kingdom of god. and behold, there are last who shall be first, and there are first who shall be last ( : , ). for in the state in which that spirit was he could be imbued with all things of faith and receive them with interior affection; there was in him the mercy of love, and in his ignorance there was innocence; and when these are present all things of faith are received as it were spontaneously and with joy. he was afterwards received among angels. . a choir at a distance was heard one morning, and from the choir's representations i was permitted to know that they were chinese, for they exhibited a kind of woolly goat, then a cake of millet, and an ebony spoon, also the idea of a floating city. they desired to come nearer to me, and when they had joined me they said that they wished to be alone with me, that they might disclose their thoughts. but they were told that they were not alone, and that some were displeased at their wishing to be alone, although they were guests. when they perceived this displeasure they began to think whether they had transgressed against the neighbor, and whether they had claimed any thing to themselves that belonged to others. all thought in the other life being communicated i was permitted to perceive the agitation of their minds. it consisted of a recognition that possibly they had injured those who were displeased, of shame on that account, together with other worthy affections; and it was thus known that they were endowed with charity. soon after i spoke with them, and at last about the lord. when i called him "christ" i perceived a certain repugnance in them; but the reason was disclosed, namely, that they had brought this from the world, from their having learned that christians lived worse lives than they did, and were destitute of charity. but when i called him simply "lord" they were interiorly moved. afterwards, they were taught by the angels that the christian doctrine beyond every other in the world prescribes love and charity, but that there are few who live in accordance with it. there are heathen who have come to know while they lived in the world, both from interaction and report, that christians lead bad lives, are addicted to adultery, hatred, quarreling, drunkenness, and the like, which they themselves abhor because such things are contrary to their religion. these in the other life are more timid than others about accepting the truths of faith; but they are taught by the angels that the christian doctrine, as well as the faith itself, teaches a very different life, but that the lives of christians are less in accord with their doctrine than the lives of heathen. when they recognize this they receive the truths of faith, and adore the lord, but less readily than others. . it is a common thing for heathen that have worshiped any god under an image or statue, or any graven thing to be introduced, when they come into the other life, to certain spirits in place of their gods or idols, in order that they may rid themselves of their fantasies. when they have been with these for some days, the fantasies are put away. also those that have worshiped men are sometimes introduced to the men they have worshiped, or to others in their place--as many of the jews to abraham, jacob, moses, and david-but when they come to see that they are human the same as others, and that they can give them no help, they become ashamed, and are carried to their own places in accordance with their lives. among the heathen in heaven the africans are most beloved, for they receive the goods and truths of heaven more readily than others. they especially wish to be called obedient, but not faithful. they say that as christians possess the doctrine of faith they may be called faithful; but not they unless they accept that doctrine, or as they say, have the ability to accept it. . i have talked with some who were in the ancient church. that is called the ancient church that was established after the deluge, and extended through many kingdoms, namely, assyria, mesopotamia, syria, ethiopia, arabia, libya, egypt, philistia as far as tyre and zidon, and through the land of canaan on both sides of the jordan.{ } the men of this church knew about the lord that he was to come, and were imbued with the goods of faith, and yet they fell away and became idolaters. these spirits were in front towards the left, in a dark place and in a miserable state. their speech was like the sound of a pipe of one tone, almost without rational thought. they said they had been there for many centuries, and that they are sometimes taken out that they may serve others for certain uses of a low order. from this i was led to think about many christians--who are inwardly though not outwardly idolaters, since they are worshipers of self and of the world, and in heart deny the lord-what lot awaits such in the other life. {footnote } the first and most ancient church on this earth was that which is described in the first chapters of genesis, and that church above all others was celestial (n. , , , - , , , , , ). what the celestial are in heaven (n. - ). there were various churches after the flood which are called ancient churches (n. - , , ). what the men of the ancient church were (n. , ). the ancient churches were representative churches (n. , , ). in the ancient church there was a word, but it has been lost (n. ). the character of the ancient church when it began to decline (n. ). the difference between the most ancient church and the ancient church (n. , , , , , , , ). the statutes, the judgments, and the laws, which were commanded in the jewish church, were in part like those in the ancient church (n. , , ). the god of the most ancient church and of the ancient church was the lord, and he was called jehovah (n. , ). . that the church of the lord is spread over all the globe, and is thus universal; and that all those are in it who have lived in the good of charity in accordance with their religion; and that the church, where the word is and by means of it the lord is known, is in relation to those who are out of the church like the heart and lungs in man, from which all the viscera and members of the body have their life, variously according to their forms, positions, and conjunctions, may be seen above (n. ). . xxxvii. little children in heaven. it is a belief of some that only such children as are born within the church go to heaven, and that those born out of the church do not, and for the reason that the children within the church are baptized and by baptism are initiated into faith of the church. such are not aware that no one receives heaven or faith through baptism; for baptism is merely for a sign and memorial that man should be regenerated, and that those born within the church can be regenerated because the word is there, and in the word are the divine truths by means of which regeneration is effected, and there the lord who regenerates is known.{ } let them know therefore that every child, wherever he is born, whether within the church or outside of it, whether of pious parents or impious, is received when he dies by the lord and trained up in heaven, and taught in accordance with divine order, and imbued with affections for what is good, and through these with knowledges of what is true; and afterwards as he is perfected in intelligence and wisdom is introduced into heaven and becomes an angel. everyone who thinks from reason can be sure that all are born for heaven and no one for hell, and if man comes into hell he himself is culpable; but little children cannot be held culpable. {footnote } baptism signifies regeneration by the lord by means of the truths of faith from the word (n. , , , , - , ). baptism is a sign that the man baptized is of the church in which the lord, who regenerates, is acknowledged, and where the word is from which are the truths of faith, by means of which regeneration is effected (n. - ). baptism confers neither faith nor salvation, but it is a witness that those who are being regenerated will receive faith and salvation (n. ). . when children die they are still children in the other life, having a like infantile mind, a like innocence in ignorance, and a like tenderness in all things. they are merely in the rudiments of a capacity to become angels, for children are not angels but become angels. for everyone passing out of this world enters the other in the same state of life, a little child in the state of a little child, a boy in the state of a boy, a youth, a man, an old man, in the state of a youth, a man, or an old man; but subsequently each one's state is changed. the state of little children surpasses the state of all others in that they are in innocence, and evil has not yet been rooted in them by actual life; and in innocence all things of heaven can be implanted, for it is a receptacle of the truth of faith and of the good of love. . the state of children in the other life far surpasses their state in the world, for they are not clothed with an earthly body, but with such a body as the angels have. the earthly body is in itself gross, and receives its first sensations and first motions not from the inner or spiritual world, but from the outer or natural world; and in consequence in this world children must be taught to walk, to guide their motions, and to speak; and even their senses, as seeing and hearing, must be opened by use. it is not so with children in the other life. as they are spirits they act at once in accordance with their interiors, walking without practice, and also talking, but at first from general affections not yet distinguished into ideas of thought; but they are quickly initiated into these also, for the reason that their exteriors are homogeneous with their interiors. the speech of angels (as may be seen above, n, - ) so flows forth from affection modified by ideas of thought that their speech completely conforms to their thoughts from affection. . as soon as little children are resuscitated, which takes place immediately after death, they are taken into heaven and confided to angel women who in the life of the body tenderly loved little children and at the same time loved god. because these during their life in the world loved all children with a kind of motherly tenderness, they receive them as their own; while the children, from an implanted instinct, love them as their own mothers. there are as many children in each one's care as she desires from a spiritual parental affection. this heaven appears in front before the forehead, directly in the line or radius in which the angels look to the lord. it is so situated because all little children are under the immediate auspices of the lord; and the heaven of innocence, which is the third heaven, flows into them. . little children have various dispositions, some that of the spiritual angels and some that of the celestial angels. those who are of a celestial disposition are seen in that heaven to the right, and those of a spiritual disposition to the left. all children in the greatest man, which is heaven, are in the province of the eyes-those of a spiritual disposition in the province of the left eye, and those of a celestial disposition in the province of the right eye. this is because the angels who are in the spiritual kingdom see the lord before the left eye, and those who are in the celestial kingdom before the right eye (see above, n. ). this fact that in the greatest man or heaven children are in the province of the eyes is a proof that they are under the immediate sight and auspices of the lord. . how children are taught in heaven shall also be briefly told. from their nurses they learn to talk. their earliest speech is simply a sound of affection; this by degrees becomes more distinct as ideas of thought enter; for ideas of thought from affections constitute all angelic speech (as may be seen in its own chapter, n. - ). into their affections, all of which proceed from innocence, such things as appear before their eyes and cause delight are first instilled; and as these things are from a spiritual origin the things of heaven at once flow into them, and by means of these heavenly things their interiors are opened, and they are thereby daily perfected. but when this first age is completed they are transferred to another heaven, where they are taught by masters; and so on. . children are taught chiefly by representatives suited to their capacity. these are beautiful and full of wisdom from within, beyond all belief. in this way an intelligence that derives its soul from good is gradually instilled into them. i will here describe two representatives that i have been permitted to see, from which the nature of others may be inferred. first there was a representation of the lord's rising from the sepulchre, and at the same time of the uniting of his human with the divine. this was done in a manner so wise as to surpass all human wisdom, and at the same time in an innocent infantile manner. an idea of a sepulchre was presented, and with it an idea of the lord, but in so remote a way that there was scarcely any perception of its being the lord, except seemingly afar off; and for the reason that in the idea of a sepulchre there is something funereal, and this was thus removed, after wards they cautiously admitted into the sepulchre something atmospheric, with an appearance of thin vapor, by which with proper remoteness they signified spiritual life in baptism. afterwards i saw a representation by the angels of the lord's descent to those that are "bound," and of his ascent with these into heaven, and this with incomparable prudence and gentleness. in adaptation to the infantile mind they let down little cords almost invisible, very soft and tender, by which they lightened the lord's ascent, always with a holy solicitude that there should be nothing in the representation bordering upon anything that did not contain what is spiritual and heavenly. other representations are there given, whereby, as by plays adapted to the minds of children, they are guided into knowledges of truth and affections for good. . it was also shown how tender their understanding is. when i was praying the lord's prayer, and from their under standing they flowed into the ideas of my thought, their influx was perceived to be so tender and soft as to be almost solely a matter of affection; and at the same time it was observed that their understanding was open even from the lord, for what flowed forth from them was as if it simply flowed through them. moreover, the lord flows into the ideas of little children chiefly from inmosts, for there is nothing, as with adults, to close up their ideas, no principles of falsity to close the way to the understanding of truth, nor any life of evil to close the way to the reception of good, and thereby to the reception of wisdom. all this makes clear that little children do not come at once after death into an angelic state, but are gradually brought into it by means of knowledges of good and truth, and in harmony with all heavenly order; for the least particulars of their nature are known to the lord, and thus they are led, in accord with each and every movement of their inclination, to receive the truths of good and the goods of truth. . i have also been shown how all things are instilled into them by delightful and pleasant means suited to their genius. i have been permitted to see children most charmingly attired, having garlands of flowers resplendent with most beautiful and heavenly colors twined about their breasts and around their tender arms; and once to see them accompanied by those in charge of them and by maidens, in a park most beautifully adorned, not so much with trees, as with arbors and covered walks of laurel, with paths leading inward; and when the children entered attired as they were the flowers over the entrance shone forth most joyously. this indicates the nature of their delights, also how they are led by means of pleasant and delightful things into the goods of innocence and charity, which goods the lord continually instilled into these delights and pleasures. . it was shown me, by a mode of communication common in the other life, what the ideas of children are when they see objects of any kind. each and every object seemed to them to be alive; and thus in every least idea of their thought there is life. and it was perceived that children on the earth have nearly the same ideas when they are at their little plays; for as yet they have no such reflection as adults have about what is inanimate. . it has been said above that children are of a genius either celestial or spiritual. those of a celestial genius are easily distinguished from those of a spiritual genius. their thought, speech, and action, is so gentle that hardly anything appears except what flows from a love of good to the lord and from a love for other children. but those of a spiritual genius are not so gentle; but in everything with them there appears a sort of vibration, as of wings. the difference is seen also in their ill-feeling and in other things. . many may suppose that in heaven little children remain little children, and continue as such among the angels. those who do not know what an angel is may have had this opinion confirmed by paintings and images in churches, in which angels are represented as children. but it is wholly otherwise. intelligence and wisdom are what constitute an angel, and as long as children do not possess these they are not angels, although they are with the angels; but as soon as they become intelligent and wise they become angels; and what is wonderful, they do not then appear as children, but as adults, for they are no longer of an infantile genius, but of a more mature angelic genius. intelligence and wisdom produce this effect. the reason why children appear more mature, thus as youths and young men, as they are perfected in intelligence and wisdom, is that intelligence and wisdom are essential spiritual nourishment;{ } and thus the things that nourish their minds also nourish their bodies, and this from correspondence; for the form of the body is simply the external form of the interiors. but it should be understood that in heaven children advance in age only to early manhood, and remain in this to eternity. that i might be assured that this is so i have been permitted to talk with some who had been educated as children in heaven, and had grown up there; with some also while they were children, and again with the same when they had become young men; and i have heard from them about the progress of their life from one age to another. {footnote } spiritual food is knowledge, intelligence, and wisdom, thus the good and truth from which these are (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). therefore in a spiritual sense everything that comes forth from the mouth of the lord is food (n. ). because bread means all food in general it signifies every good, celestial and spiritual (n. , , , , , , ). and for the reason that these nourish the mind, which belongs to the internal man (n. , , , , ). . that innocence is a receptacle of all things of heaven, and thus the innocence of children is a plane for all affections for good and truth, can be seen from what has been shown above (n. - ) in regard to the innocence of angels in heaven, namely, that innocence is a willingness to be led by the lord and not by oneself; consequently so far as a man is in innocence he is separated from what is his own, and so far as one is separated from what is his own he is in what is the lord's own. the lord's own is what is called his righteousness and merit. but the innocence of children is not genuine innocence, because as yet it is without wisdom. genuine innocence is wisdom, since so far as any one is wise he loves to be led by the lord; or what is the same, so far as any one is led by the lord he is wise. [ ] therefore children are led from the external innocence in which they are at the beginning, and which is called the innocence of childhood, to internal innocence, which is the innocence of wisdom. this innocence is the end that directs all their instruction and progress; and therefore when they have attained to the innocence of wisdom, the innocence of childhood, which in the meanwhile has served them as a plane, is joined to them. [ ] the innocence of children has been represented to me as a wooden sort of thing, almost devoid of life, which becomes vivified as they are perfected by knowledges of truth and affections for good. afterwards genuine innocence was represented by a most beautiful child, naked and full of life; for the really innocent, who are in the inmost heaven and thus nearest to the lord, always appear before the eyes of other angels as little children, and some of them naked; for innocence is represented by nakedness unaccompanied by shame, as is said of the first man and his wife in paradise (gen. : ); so when their state of innocence perished they were ashamed of their nakedness, and hid themselves (chap. : , , ). in a word, the wiser the angels are the more innocent they are, and the more innocent they are the more they appear to themselves as little children. this is why in the word "childhood" signifies innocence (see above, n. ). . i have talked with angels about little children, whether they are free from evils, inasmuch as they have no actual evil as adults have; and i was told that they are equally in evil, and in fact are nothing but evil;{ } but, like all angels, they are so withheld from evil and held in good by the lord as to seem to themselves to be in good from themselves. for this reason when children have become adults in heaven, that they may not have the false idea about themselves that the good in them is from themselves and not from the lord, they are now and then let down into their evils which they inherited, and are left in them until they know, acknowledge and believe the truth of the matter. [ ] there was one, the son of a king, who died in childhood and grew up in heaven, who held this opinion. therefore he was let down into that life of evils into which he was born, and he then perceived from the sphere of his life that he had a disposition to domineer over others, and regarded adulteries as of no account; these evils he had inherited from his parents; but after he had been brought to recognize his real character he was again received among the angels with whom he had before been associated. [ ] in the other life no one ever suffers punishment on account of his inherited evil, because it is not his evil, that is, it is not his fault that he is such; he suffers only on account of actual evil that is his, that is, only so far as he has appropriated to himself inherited evil by actual life. when, therefore, the children that have become adults are let down into the state of their inherited evil it is not that they may suffer punishment for it, but that they may learn that of themselves they are nothing but evil, and that it is by the mercy of the lord that they are taken up into heaven from the hell in which they are, and that it is from the lord that they are in heaven and not from any merit of their own; and therefore they may not boast before others of the good that is in them, since this is contrary to the good of mutual love, as it is contrary to the truth of faith. {footnote } all kinds of men are born into evils of every kind, even to the extent that what is their own is nothing but evil (n. , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). consequently man must needs be reborn, that is, regenerated (n. ). man's inherited evil consists in his loving himself more than god, and the world more than heaven and in making his neighbor, in comparison with himself, of no account, except for the sake of self, that is, himself alone, thus it consists in the love of self and of the world (n. , , , ). all evils are from the love of self and of the world, when those loves rule (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). these evils are contempt of others, enmity, hatred revenge, cruelty, deceit (n. , - , , , ). and from these evils comes all falsity (n. , , , ). these loves, so far as the reins are given them, rush headlong; and the love of self aspires even to the throne of god (n. , ). . several times when a number of children that were in a purely infantile state have been with me in choirs, they were heard as a tender unarranged mass, that is, as not yet acting as one, as they do later when they have become more mature. to my surprise the spirits with me could not refrain from inducing them to talk. this desire is innate in spirits. but i noticed, each time, that the children resisted, unwilling to talk in this way. this refusal and resistance, which were accompanied by a kind of indignation, i have often perceived; and when an opportunity to talk was given them they would say nothing except that "it is not so." i have been taught that little children are so tempted in order that they may get accustomed to resisting, and may begin to resist falsity and evil, and also that they may learn not to think, speak, and act, from another, and in consequence may learn to permit themselves to be led by no one but the lord. . from what has been said it can be seen what child education is in heaven, namely, that it is leading them by means of an understanding of truth and the wisdom of good into the angelic life, which is love to the lord and mutual love, in which is innocence. but how different in many cases is the education of children on the earth can be seen from this example. i was in the street of a large city, and saw little boys fighting with each other; a crowd flocked around and looked on with much pleasure; and i was told that little boys are incited to such fights by their own parents. good spirits and angels who saw this through my eyes so revolted at it that i felt their horror; and especially that parents should incite their children to such things, saying that in this way parents extinguish in the earliest age all the mutual love and all the innocence that children have from the lord, and initiate them into the spirit of hatred and revenge; consequently by their own endeavors they shut their children out of heaven, where there is nothing but mutual love. let parents therefore who wish well to their children beware of such things. . what the difference is between those who die in childhood and those who die in mature life shall also be told. those dying in mature life have a plane acquired from the earthly and material world, and this they carry with them. this plane is their memory and its bodily natural affection. this remains fixed and becomes quiescent, but still serves their thought after death as an outmost plane, since the thought flows into it. consequently such as this plane is, and such as the correspondence is between the things that are in it and the rational faculty, such is the man after death. but the children who die in childhood and are educated in heaven have no such plane, since they derive nothing from the material world and the earthly body; but they have a spiritual-natural plane. for this reason they cannot be in such gross affections and consequent thoughts, since they derive all things from heaven. moreover, these children do not know that they were born in the world, but believe that they were born in heaven. neither do they know about any other than spiritual birth, which is effected through knowledges of good and truth and through intelligence and wisdom, from which man is a man; and as these are from the lord they believe themselves to be the lord's own, and love to be so. nevertheless it is possible for the state of men who grow up on the earth to become as perfect as the state of children who grow up in heaven, provided they put away bodily and earthly loves, which are the loves of self and the world, and receive in their place spiritual loves. . xxxviii. the wise and the simple in heaven. it is believed that in heaven the wise will have more glory and eminence than the simple, because it is said in daniel: they that are intelligent shall shine as with the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever ( : ). but few know who are meant by the "intelligent" and by those that "turn many to righteousness." the common belief is that they are such as are called the accomplished and learned, especially such as have taught in the church and have surpassed others in acquirements and in preaching, and still more such among them as have converted many to the faith. in the world all such are regarded as the intelligent; nevertheless such are not the intelligent in heaven that are spoken of in these words, unless their intelligence is heavenly intelligence. what this is will now be told. . heavenly intelligence is interior intelligence, arising from a love for truth, not with any glory in the world nor any glory in heaven as an end, but with the truth itself as an end, by which they are inmostly affected and with which they are inmostly delighted. those who are affected by and delighted with the truth itself are affected by and delighted with the light of heaven; and those who are affected by and delighted with the light of heaven are also affected by and delighted with divine truth, and indeed with the lord himself; for the light of heaven is divine truth, and divine truth is the lord in heaven (see above, n. - ). this light enters only into the interiors of the mind; for the interiors of the mind are formed for the reception of that light, and are affected by and delighted with that light as it enters; for whatever flows in and is received from heaven has in it what is delightful and pleasant. from this comes a genuine affection for truth, which is an affection for truth for truth's sake. those who are in this affection, or what is the same thing, in this love, are in heavenly intelligence, and "shine in heaven as with the brightness of the firmament." they so shine because divine truth, wherever it is in heaven, is what gives light (see above, n. ); and the "firmament" of heaven signifies from correspondence the intellectual faculty, both with angels and men, that is in the light of heaven. [ ] but those that love the truth, either with glory in the world or glory in heaven as an end, cannot shine in heaven, since they are delighted with and affected by the light of the world, and not with the very light of heaven; and the light of the world without the light of heaven is in heaven mere thick darkness.{ } for the glory of self is what rules, because it is the end in view; and when that glory is the end man puts himself in the first place, and such truths as can be made serviceable to his glory he looks upon simply as means to the end and as instruments of service. for he that loves divine truths for the sake of his own glory regards himself and not the lord in divine truths, thereby turning the sight pertaining to his understanding and faith away from heaven to the world, and away from the lord to himself. such, therefore, are in the light of the world and not in the light of heaven. [ ] in outward form or in the sight of men they appear just as intelligent and learned as those who are in the light of heaven, because they speak in a like manner; and sometimes to outward appearance they even appear wiser, because they are moved by love of self, and are skilled in counterfeiting heavenly affections; but in their inward form in which they appear before the angels they are wholly different. all this shows in some degree who those are that are meant by "the intelligent that will shine in heaven as with the brightness of the firmament." who are meant by those that "turn many to righteousness," who will shine as the stars, shall now be told. {footnote } the light of the world is for the external man, the light of heaven for the internal man (n. - , ). the light of heaven flows into the natural light, and so far as the natural man receives the light of heaven he becomes wise (n. , ). the things that are in the light of heaven can be seen in the light of heaven but not in the light of the world, which is called natural light (n. ). therefore those who are solely in the light of the world do not perceive those things that are in the light of heaven (n. ). to the angels the light of the world is thick darkness (n. , , ). . by those who "turn many to righteousness" are meant those who are wise, and in heaven those are called wise who are in good, and those are in good that apply divine truths at once to the life; for as soon as divine truth comes to be of the life it becomes good, since it comes to be of will and love, and whatever is of will and love is called good; therefore such are called wise because wisdom is of the life. but those that do not commit divine truths at once to the life, but first to the memory, from which they afterwards draw them and apply them to the life, are called the "intelligent." what and how great the difference is between the wise and the intelligent in the heavens can be seen in the chapter that treats of the two kingdoms of heaven, the celestial and the spiritual (n. - ), and in the chapter that treats of the three heavens (n. - ). those who are in the lord's celestial kingdom, and consequently in the third or inmost heaven, are called "the righteous" because they attribute all righteousness to the lord and none to themselves. the lord's righteousness in heaven is the good that is from the lord.{ } such, then, are here meant by those that "turn to righteousness;" and such are meant also in the lord's words, the righteous shall shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their father (matt. : ). such "shine forth as the sun" because they are in love to the lord from the lord, and that love is meant by the "sun" (see above, n. - ). the light of such is flame-colored; and the ideas of their thought are so tinged with what is flaming because they receive the good of love directly from the lord as the sun in heaven. {footnote } the merit and righteousness of the lord is the good that rules in heaven (n. , ). he that is "righteous" or "made righteous" is one to whom the merit and righteousness of the lord is ascribed; and he is "unrighteous" who holds to his own righteousness and merit (n. , ). the quality of those in the other life who claim righteousness to themselves (n. , ). in the word "righteousness" is predicated of good and judgment of truth; therefore "doing righteousness and judgment" is doing good and truth (n. , ). . all who have acquired intelligence and wisdom in the world are received in heaven and become angels, each in accordance with the quality and degree of his intelligence and wisdom. for whatever a man acquires in the world abides, and he takes it with him after death; and it is further increased and filled out, but within and not beyond the degree of his affection and desire for truth and its good, those with but little affection and desire receiving but little, and yet as much as they are capable of receiving within that degree; while those with much affection and desire receive much. the degree itself of affection and desire is like a measure that is filled to the full, he that has a large measure receiving more, and he that has a small measure receiving less. this is so because man's love, to which affection and desire belong, receives all that accords with itself; consequently reception is measured by the love. this is what is meant by the lord's words, to him that hath it shall be given, that he may have more abundantly (matt. : ; : ). good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, shall be given into your bosom (luke : ). . all are received into heaven who have loved truth and good for the sake of truth and good; therefore those that have loved much are called the wise, and those that have loved little are called the simple. the wise in heaven are in much light, the simple in less light, everyone in accordance with the degree of his love for good and truth. to love truth and good for the sake of truth and good is to will and do them; for those love who will and do, while those who do not will and do do not love. such also love the lord and are loved by the lord, because good and truth are from the lord. and inasmuch as good and truth are from the lord the lord is in good and truth; and he is in those who receive good and truth in their life by willing and doing. moreover, when man is viewed in himself he is nothing but his own good and truth, because good is of his will and truth of his understanding, and man is such as his will and understanding are. evidently, then, man is loved by the lord just to the extent that his will is formed from good and his understanding from truth. also to be loved by the lord is to love the lord, since love is reciprocal; for upon him who is loved the lord bestows ability to love. . it is believed in the world that those who have much knowledge, whether it be knowledge of the teachings of the church and the word or of the sciences, have a more interior and keen vision of truth than others, that is, are more intelligent and wise; and such have this opinion of themselves. but what true intelligence and wisdom are, and what spurious and false intelligence and wisdom are, shall be told in what now follows. [ ] true intelligence and wisdom is seeing and perceiving what is true and good, and thereby what is false and evil, and clearly distinguishing between them, and this from an interior intuition and perception. with every man there are interior faculties and exterior faculties; interior faculties belonging to the internal or spiritual man, and exterior faculties belonging to the exterior or natural man. accordingly as man's interiors are formed and made one with his exteriors man sees and perceives. his interiors can be formed only in heaven, his exteriors are formed in the world. when his interiors have been formed in heaven the things they contain flow into his exteriors which are from the world, and so form them that they correspond with, that is, act as one with, his interiors; and when this is done man sees and perceives from what is interior. the interiors can be formed only in one way, namely, by man's looking to the divine and to heaven, since, as has been said, the interiors are formed in heaven; and man looks to the divine when he believes in the divine, and believes that all truth and good and consequently all intelligence and wisdom are from the divine; and man believes in the divine when he is willing to be led by the divine. in this way and none other are the interiors of man opened. [ ] the man who is in that belief and in a life that is in accordance with his belief has the ability and capacity to understand and be wise; but to become intelligent and wise he must learn many things, both things pertaining to heaven and things pertaining to the world--things pertaining to heaven from the word and from the church, and things pertaining to the world from the sciences. to the extent that man learns and applies to life he becomes intelligent and wise, for to that extent the interior sight belonging to his understanding and the interior affection belonging to his will are perfected. the simple of this class are those whose interiors have been opened, but not so enriched by spiritual, moral, civil and natural truths. such perceive truths when they hear them, but do not see them in themselves. but the wise of this class are those whose interiors have been both opened and enriched. such both see truths inwardly and perceive them. all this makes clear what true intelligence is and what true wisdom is. . spurious intelligence and wisdom is failing to see and perceive from within what is true and what is good, and thereby what is false and what is evil, but merely believing that to be true and good and that to be false and evil which is said by others to be so, and then confirming it. because such see truth from some one else, and not from the truth itself, they can seize upon and believe what is false as readily as what is true, and can confirm it until it appears true; for whatever is confirmed puts on the appearance of truth; and there is nothing that can not be confirmed. the interiors of such are opened only from beneath; but their exteriors are opened to the extent that they have confirmed themselves. for this reason the light from which they see is not the light of heaven but the light of the world, which is called natural light [lumen]; and in that light falsities can shine like truths; and when confirmed they can even appear resplendent, but not in the light of heaven. of this class those are less intelligent and wise who have strongly confirmed themselves, and those are more intelligent and wise who have less strongly confirmed themselves. all this shows what spurious intelligence and wisdom are. [ ] but those are not included in this class who in childhood supposed what they heard from their masters to be true, if in a riper age, when they think from their own understanding, they do not continue to hold fast to it, but long for truth, and from that longing seek for it, and when they find it are interiorly moved by it. because such are moved by the truth for the truth's sake they see the truth before they confirm it.{ } [ ] this may be illustrated by an example. there was a discussion among spirits why animals are born into all the knowledge suited to their nature, but man is not; and the reason was said to be that animals are in the order of their life, and man is not, consequently man must needs be led into order by means of what he learns of internal and external things. but if man were born into the order of his life, which is to love god above all things and his neighbor as himself, he would be born into intelligence and wisdom, and as knowledges are acquired would come into a belief in all truth. good spirits saw this at once and perceived it to be true, and this merely from the light of truth; while the spirits who had confirmed themselves in faith alone, and had thereby set aside love and charity, were unable to understand it, because the light of falsity which they had confirmed had made obscure to them the light of truth. {footnote } it is the part of the wise to see and perceive whether a thing is true before it is confirmed and not merely to confirm what is said by others (n. , , , , ). only those can see and perceive whether a thing is true before it is confirmed who are affected by truth for the sake of truth and for the sake of life (n. ). the light of confirmation is not spiritual light but natural light, and is even sensual light which the wicked may have (n. ). all things, even falsities, may be so confirmed as to appear like truths (n. , , , , ). . false intelligence and wisdom is all intelligence and wisdom that is separated from the acknowledgment of the divine; for all such as do not acknowledge the divine, but acknowledge nature in the place of the divine, think from the bodily-sensual, and are merely sensual, however highly they may be esteemed in the world for their accomplishments and learning.{ } for their learning does not ascend beyond such things as appear before their eyes in the world; these they hold in the memory and look at them in an almost material way, although the same knowledges serve the truly intelligent in forming their understanding. by sciences the various kinds of experimental knowledge are meant, such as physics, astronomy, chemistry, mechanics, geometry, anatomy, psychology, philosophy, the history of kingdoms and of the literary world, criticism, and languages. [ ] the clergy who deny the divine do not raise their thoughts above the sensual things of the external man; and regard the things of the word in the same way as others regard the sciences, not making them matters of thought or of any intuition by an enlightened rational mind; and for the reason that their interiors are closed up, together with those exteriors that are nearest to their interiors. these are closed up because they have turned themselves away from heaven, and have retroverted those faculties that were capable of looking heavenward, which are, as has been said above, the interiors of the human mind. for this reason they are incapable of seeing anything true or good, this being to them in thick darkness, while whatever is false and evil is in light. [ ] and yet sensual men can reason, some of them more cunningly and keenly than any one else; but they reason from the fallacies of the senses confirmed by their knowledges; and because they are able to reason in this way they believe themselves to be wiser than others.{ } the fire that kindles with affection their reasonings is the fire of the love of self and the world. such are those who are in false intelligence and wisdom, and who are meant by the lord in matthew: seeing they see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand ( : - ). and again: these things are hid from the intelligent and wise, and revealed unto babes ( : , ). {footnote } the sensual is the outmost of man's life, clinging to and inhering in his bodily part (n. , , , , , ). he is called a sensual man who forms all his judgments and conclusions from the bodily senses, and who believes nothing except what he sees with his eyes and touches with his hands (n. , ). such a man thinks in things outermost and not interiorly in himself (n. , , , ). his interiors are so closed up that he sees nothing of divine truth (n. , , ). in a word he is in gross natural light and thus perceives nothing that is from the light of heaven (n. , , , , , , , , , ). therefore he is inwardly opposed to all things pertaining to heaven and the church (n. , , , , , ). the learned that have confirmed themselves against the truths of the church are sensual (n. ). a description of the sensual man (n. ). {footnote } sensual men reason keenly and cunningly, since they place all intelligence in speaking from the bodily memory (n. , , , ). but they reason from the fallacies of the senses (n. , , , ). sensual men are more cunning and malicious than others (n. , ). by the ancients such were called serpents of the tree of knowledge (n. - , , , ). . it has been granted me to speak with many of the learned after their departure from the world; with some of distinguished reputation and celebrated in the literary world for their writings, and with some not so celebrated, although endowed with profound wisdom. those that in heart had denied the divine, whatever their professions may have been, had become so stupid as to have little comprehension even of anything truly civil, still less of anything spiritual. i perceived and also saw that the interiors of their minds were so closed up as to appear black (for in the spiritual world such things become visible), and in consequence they were unable to endure any heavenly light or admit any influx from heaven. this blackness which their interiors presented was more intense and extended with those that had confirmed themselves against the divine by the knowledges they had acquired. in the other life such accept all falsity with delight, imbibing it as a sponge does water; and they repel all truth as an elastic bony substance repels what falls upon it. in fact, it is said that the interiors of those that have confirmed themselves against the divine and in favor of nature become bony, and their heads down to the nose appear callous like ebony, which is a sign that they no longer have any perception. those of this description are immersed in quagmires that appear like bogs; and there they are harassed by the fantasies into which their falsities are turned. their infernal fire is a lust for glory and reputation, which prompts them to assail one another, and from an infernal ardor to torment those about them who do not worship them as deities; and this they do one to another in turns. into such things is all the learning of the world changed that has not received into itself light from heaven through acknowledgment of the divine. . that these are such in the spiritual world when they come into it after death may be inferred from this alone, that all things that are in the natural memory and are in immediate conjunction with the things of bodily sense (which is true of such knowledges as are mentioned above) then become quiescent; and only such rational principles as are drawn from these then serve for thought and speech. for man carries with him his entire natural memory, but its contents are not then under his view, and do not come into his thought as when he lived in the world. he can take nothing from that memory and bring it forth into spiritual light because its contents are not objects of that light. but those things of the reason and understanding that man has acquired from knowledges while living in the body are in accord with the light of the spiritual world; consequently so far as the spirit of man has been made rational in the world through knowledge and science it is to the same extent rational after being loosed from the body; for man is then a spirit, and it is the spirit that thinks in the body.{ } {footnote } knowledges belong to the natural memory that man has while he is in the body (n. , ). man carries with him after death his whole natural memory (n. ) from experience (n. - ). but he is not able, as he was in the world, to draw anything out of that memory, for several reasons (n. , , ). . but in respect to those that have acquired intelligence and wisdom through knowledge and science, who are such as have applied all things to the use of life, and have also acknowledged the divine, loved the word, and lived a spiritual moral life (of which above, n. ), to such the sciences have served as a means of becoming wise, and also of corroborating the things pertaining to faith. the interiors of the mind of such have been perceived by me, and were seen as transparent from light of a glistening white, flamy, or blue color, like that of translucent diamonds, rubies, and sapphires; and this in accordance with confirmations in favor of the divine and divine truths drawn from science. such is the appearance of true intelligence and wisdom when they are presented to view in the spiritual world. this appearance is derived from the light of heaven; and that light is divine truth going forth from the lord, which is the source of all intelligence and wisdom (see above, n. - ). [ ] the planes of that light, in which variegations like those of colors exist, are the interiors of the mind; and these variegations are produced by confirmations of divine truths by means of such things as are in nature, that is, in the sciences.{ } for the interior mind of man looks into the things of the natural memory, and the things there that will serve as proofs it sublimates as it were by the fire of heavenly love, and withdraws and purifies them even into spiritual ideas. this is unknown to man as long as he lives in the body, because there he thinks both spiritually and naturally, and he has no perception of the things he then thinks spiritually, but only of those he thinks naturally. but when he has come into the spiritual world he has no perception of what he thought naturally in the world, but only of what he thought spiritually. thus is his state changed. [ ] all this makes clear that it is by means of knowledges and sciences that man is made spiritual, also that these are the means of becoming wise, but only with those who have acknowledged the divine in faith and life. such also before others are accepted in heaven, and are among those there who are at the center (n. ), because they are in light more than others. these are the intelligent and wise in heaven, who "shine as with the brightness of the firmament" and "who shine as the stars," while the simple there are those that have acknowledged the divine, have loved the word, and have lived a spiritual and moral life, but the interiors of their minds have not been so enriched by knowledges and sciences. the human mind is like soil which is such as it is made by cultivation. {footnote } most beautiful colors are seen in heaven (n. , ). colors in heaven are from the light there, and are modifications or variegations of that light (n. , , , , , , , ). thus they are manifestations of truth from good, and they signify such things as pertain to intelligence and wisdom (n. , , , ). extracts from the arcana coelestia respecting knowledges. [in these extracts scientia, scientificum and cognitio are alike rendered knowledge, because any distinction between them intended by the author is not sufficiently obvious to be uniformly indicated in english. -- tr.] man ought to be fully instructed in knowledges [scientiis et cognitionibus], since by means of them he learns to think [cogitare], afterwards to understand what is true and good, and finally to be wise (n. , , , , , ). knowledges [scientifica] are the first things on which the life of man, civil, moral, and spiritual, is built and founded, and they are to be learned for the sake of use as an end (n. , ). knowledges [cognitiones] open the way to the internal man, and afterwards conjoin that man with the external in accordance with uses (n. , ). the rational faculty has its birth by means of knowledges [scientias et cognitiones] (n. , , ). but not by means of knowledges [cognitiones] themselves, but by means of affection for the uses derived from them (n. ). [ ] there are knowledges [scientifica] that give entrance to divine truths, and knowledges [scientifica] that do not (n. ). empty knowledges [scientifica] are to be destroyed (n. , , , ). empty knowledges [scientifica] are such as have the loves of self and of the world as an end, and sustain those loves, and withdraw from love to god and love towards the neighbor, because such knowledges close up the internal man, even to the extent that man becomes unable to receive any thing from heaven (n. , ). knowledges [scientifica] are means to becoming wise and means to becoming insane and by them the internal man is either opened or closed, and thus the rational is either enriched or destroyed (n. , , ). [ ] the internal man is opened and gradually perfected by means of knowledges [scientifica] if man has good use as an end, especially use that looks to external life (n. ). then knowledges [scientificis], which are in the natural man, are met by spiritual and heavenly things from the spiritual man, and these adopt such of them as are suitable (n. ). then the uses of heavenly life are drawn forth by the lord and perfected and raised up out of the knowledges [scientificis] in the natural man by means of the internal man (n. , , , , , , , ). while incongruous and opposing knowledges [scientifica] are rejected to the sides and banished (n. , , ). [ ] the sight of the internal man calls forth from the knowledges [scientificis] of the external man only such things as are in accord with its love (n. ). as seen by the internal man what pertains to the love is at the center and in brightness, but what is not of the love is at the sides and in obscurity (n. , ). suitable knowledges [scientifica] are gradually implanted in man's loves and as it were dwell in them (n. ). if man were born into love towards the neighbor he would be born into intelligence, but because he is born into the loves of self and of the world he is born into total ignorance (n. , ). knowledge [scientia], intelligence, and wisdom are sons of love to god and of love towards the neighbor (n. , , ). [ ] it is one thing to be wise, another thing to understand, another to know [scire], and another to do; nevertheless, in those that possess spiritual life these follow in order, and exist together in doing or deeds (n. ). also it is one thing to know [scire], another to acknowledge, and another to have faith (n. ). [ ] knowledges [scientifica], which pertain to the external or natural man, are in the light of the world, but truths that have been made truths of faith and of love, and have thus acquired life, are in the light of heaven (n. ). the truths that have acquired spiritual life are comprehended by means of natural ideas (n. ). spiritual influx is from the internal or spiritual man into the knowledges [scientifica] that are in the external or natural man (n. , ). knowledges [scientifica] are receptacles, and as it were vessels, for the truth and good that belong to the internal man (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). knowledges [scientifica] are like mirrors in which the truths and goods of the internal man appear as an image (n. ). there they are together as in their outmost (n. , , , , , , , ). [ ] influx is not physical but spiritual, that is, influx is from the internal man into the external, thus into the knowledges of the external; and not from the external into the internal, thus not from the knowledges [scientificis] of the external into truths of faith (n. , , , , , , , ). a beginning must be made from the truths of doctrine of the church, which are from the word, and those truths must first be acknowledged, and then it is permissible to consult knowledges [scientifica] (n. ). thus it is permissible for those who are in an affirmative state in regard to truths of faith to confirm them intellectually by means of knowledges [scientifica], but not for those who are in a negative state (n. , , , ). he that will not believe divine truths until he is convinced by means of knowledges [scientificis] will never believe (n. , ). to enter from knowledge [scientificis] into the truths of faith is contrary to order (n. ). those who do so become demented respecting the things of heaven and the church (n. , , ). they fall into the falsities of evil (n. , , ). in the other life when they think about spiritual matters they become as it were drunken (n. ). more respecting the character of such (n. ). examples showing that things spiritual cannot be comprehended when entered into through knowledges [scientifica] (n. , , , , ). in spiritual things many of the learned are more demented than the simple, for the reason that they are in a negative state, which they confirm by means of the knowledges [scientifica] which they have continually and in abundance before their sight (n. , ). [ ] those who reason from knowledges [scientificis] against the truths of faith reason keenly because they reason from the fallacies of the senses, which are engaging and convincing, because they cannot easily be dispelled (n. ). what things are fallacies of the senses, and what they are (n. , , , ). those that have no understanding of truth, and also those that are in evil, are able to reason about the truths and goods of faith, but are not able to understand them (n. ). intelligence does not consist in merely confirming dogma but in seeing whether it is true or not before it is confirmed (n. , ). [ ] knowledges [scientiae] are of no avail after death, but only that which man has imbibed in his understanding and life by means of knowledges [scientias] (n. ). still all knowledge [scientifica] remains after death, although it is quiescent (n. - , - ). [ ] knowledge [scientifica] with the evil are falsities, because they are adapted to evils, but with the good the same knowledges are truths, because applied to what is good (n. ). true knowledges [scientifica] with the evil are not true, however much they may appear to be true when uttered, because there is evil within them (n. ). [ ] an example of the desire to know [sciendi], which spirits have (n. ). angels have an illimitable longing to know [sciendi] and to become wise, since learning [scientia], intelligence, and wisdom are spiritual food (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). the knowledge [scientia] of the ancients was the knowledge [scientia] of correspondences and representations, by which they gained entrance into the knowledge [cognitionem] of spiritual things; but that knowledge [scientia] at this day is wholly lost (n. , , , ). [ ] for spiritual truths to be comprehended the following universals must be known [scientur]. (i) all things in the universe have relation to good and truth and to their conjunction that they may be anything, thus to love and faith and their conjunction. (ii) man has understanding and will; and the understanding is the receptacle of truth and the will of good; and all things in man have relation to these two and to their conjunction, as all things have relation to truth and good and their conjunction. (iii) there is an internal man and an external man, which are as distinct from each other as heaven and the world are, and yet for a man to be truly a man, these must make one. (iv) the internal man is in the light of heaven, and the external man is in the light of the world; and the light of heaven is divine truth itself, from which is all intelligence. (v) between the things in the internal man and those in the external there is a correspondence, therefore the different aspect they present is such that they can be distinguished only by means of a knowledge [scientiam] of correspondences. unless these and many other things are known [scientur], nothing but incongruous ideas of spiritual and heavenly truths can be conceived and formed; therefore without these universals the knowledges [scientifica et cognitiones] of the natural man can be of but little service to the rational man for understanding and growth. this makes clear how necessary knowledges [scientifica] are. . xxxix. the rich and the poor in heaven. there are various opinions about reception into heaven. some are of the opinion that the poor are received and the rich are not; some that the rich and the poor are equally received; some that the rich can be received only by giving up their wealth and becoming like the poor; and proofs are found in the word for all of these opinions. but those who make a distinction in regard to heaven between the rich and the poor do not understand the word. in its interiors the word is spiritual, but in the letter it is natural; consequently those who understand the word only in accordance with its literal sense, and not according to any spiritual sense, err in many respects, especially about the rich and the poor; for example, that it is as difficult for the rich to enter into heaven as for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle; and that it is easy for the poor because they are poor, since it is said, blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of the heavens (matt. : ; luke : , ). but those who know anything of the spiritual sense of the word think otherwise; they know that heaven is for all who live a life of faith and love, whether rich or poor. but who are meant in the word by "the rich" and who by "the poor" will be told in what follows. from much conversation and interaction with angels it has been granted me to know with certainty that the rich enter heaven just as easily as the poor, and that no man is shut out of heaven on account of his wealth, or received into heaven on account of his poverty. both the rich and the poor are in heaven, and many of the rich in greater glory and happiness than the poor. . it should be said to begin with that a man may acquire riches and accumulate wealth as far as opportunity is given, if it is not done by craft or fraud; that he may enjoy the delicacies of food and drink if he does not place his life therein; that he may have a palatial dwelling in accord with his condition, have interaction with others in like condition, frequent places of amusement, talk about the affairs of the world, and need not go about like a devotee with a sad and sorrowful countenance and drooping head, but may be joyful and cheerful; nor need he give his goods to the poor except so far as affection leads him; in a word, he may live outwardly precisely like a man of the world; and all this will be no obstacle to his entering heaven, provided that inwardly in himself he thinks about god as he ought, and acts sincerely and justly in respect to his neighbor. for a man is such as his affection and thought are, or such as his love and faith are, and from these all his outward acts derive their life; since acting is willing, and speaking is thinking, acting being from the will, and speaking from the thought. so where it is said in the word that man will be judged according to his deeds, and will be rewarded according to his works, it is meant that he will be judged and rewarded in accordance with his thought and affection, which are the source of his deeds, or which are in his deeds; for deeds are nothing apart from these, and are precisely such as these are.{ } all this shows that the man's external accomplishes nothing, but only his internal, which is the source of the external. for example: if a man acts honestly and refrains from fraud solely because he fears the laws and the loss of reputation and thereby of honor or gain, and if that fear did not restrain him would defraud others whenever he could; although such a man's deeds outwardly appear honest, his thought and will are fraud; and because he is inwardly dishonest and fraudulent he has hell in himself. but he who acts honestly and refrains from fraud because it is against god and against the neighbor would have no wish to defraud another if he could; his thought and will are conscience, and he has heaven in himself. the deeds of these two appear alike in outward form, but inwardly they are wholly unlike. {footnote } it is frequently said in the word that man will be judged and will be rewarded according to his deeds and works (n. ). by "deeds and works" deeds and works in their internal form are meant, not in their external form, since good works in external form are likewise done by the wicked, but in internal and external form together only by the good (n. , ). works, like all activities, have their being and outgo [esse et existere] and their quality from the interiors of man, which pertain to his thought and will, since they proceed from these; therefore such as the interiors are such are the works (n. , , ). that is, such as the interiors are in regard to love and faith (n. , , , ). thus works contain love and faith, and are love and faith in effect (n. ). therefore to be judged and rewarded in accordance with deeds and works, means in accordance with love and faith (n. , , , , , ). so far as works look to self and the world they are not good, but they are good so far as they look to the lord and the neighbor (n. ). . since a man can live outwardly as others do, can grow rich, keep a plentiful table, dwell in an elegant house and wear fine clothing according to his condition and function, can enjoy delights and gratifications, and engage in worldly affairs for the sake of his occupation and business and for the life both of the mind and body, provided he inwardly acknowledges the divine and wishes well to the neighbor, it is evident that to enter upon the way to heaven is not so difficult as many believe. the sole difficulty lies in being able to resist the love of self and the world, and to prevent their becoming dominant; for this is the source of all evils.{ } that this is not so difficult as is believed is meant by these words of the lord: learn of me, for i am meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light (matt. : , ). the lord's yoke is easy and his burden light because a man is led by the lord and not by self just to the extent that he resists the evils that flow forth from love of self and of the world; and because the lord then resists these evils in man and removes them. {footnote } all evils are from the love of self and of the world (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). these are contempt of others, enmities, hatred, revenge, cruelty, deceit (n. , - , , , ). into such loves man is born, thus in them are his inherited evils (n. , , ). . i have spoken with some after death who, while they lived in the world, renounced the world and gave themselves up to an almost solitary life, in order that by an abstraction of the thoughts from worldly things they might have opportunity for pious meditations, believing that thus they might enter the way to heaven. but these in the other life are of a sad disposition; they despise others who are not like themselves; they are indignant that they do not have a happier lot than others, believing that they have merited it; they have no interest in others, and turn away from the duties of charity by which there is conjunction with heaven. they desire heaven more than others; but when they are taken up among the angels they induce anxieties that disturb the happiness of the angels; and in consequence they are sent away; and when sent away they betake themselves to desert places, where they lead a life like that which they lived in the world. [ ] man can be formed for heaven only by means of the world. in the world are the outmost effects in which everyone's affection must be terminated; for unless affection puts itself forth or flows out into acts, which is done in association with others, it is suffocated to such a degree finally that man has no longer any regard for the neighbor, but only for himself. all this makes clear that a life of charity towards the neighbor, which is doing what is just and right in every work and in every employment, is what leads to heaven, and not a life of piety apart from charity;{ } and from this it follows that only to the extent that man is engaged in the employments of life can charity be exercised and the life of charity grow; and this is impossible to the extent that man separates himself from those employments. [ ] on this subject i will speak now from experience. of those who while in the world were employed in trade and commerce and became rich through these pursuits there are many in heaven, but not so many of those who were in stations of honor and became rich through those employments; and for the reason that these latter by the gains and honors that resulted from their dispensing justice and equity, and also by the lucrative and honorable positions bestowed on them were led into loving themselves and the world, and thereby separating their thoughts and affections from heaven and turning them to themselves. for to the extent that a man loves self and the world and looks to self and the world in everything, he alienates himself from the divine and separates himself from heaven. {footnote } charity towards the neighbor is doing what is good, just, and right, in every work and every employment (n. - ). thus charity towards the neighbor extends to all things and each thing that a man thinks, wills, and does (n. ). a life of piety apart from a life of charity is of no avail, but together they are profitable for all things (n. , ). . as to the lot of the rich in heaven, they live more splendidly than others. some of them dwell in palaces within which everything is resplendent as if with gold and silver. they have an abundance of all things for the uses of life, but they do not in the least set their heart on these things, but only on uses. uses are clearly seen as if they were in light, but the gold and silver are seen obscurely, and comparatively as if in shade. this is because while they were in the world they loved uses, and loved gold and silver only as means and instruments. it is the uses that are thus resplendent in heaven, the good of use like gold and the truth of use like silver.{ } therefore their wealth in heaven is such as their uses were in the world, and such, too, are their delight and happiness. good uses are providing oneself and one's own with the necessaries of life; also desiring wealth for the sake of one's country and for the sake of one's neighbor, whom a rich man can in many ways benefit more than a poor man. these are good uses because one is able thereby to withdraw his mind from an indolent life which is harmful, since in such a life man's thoughts run to evil because of the evil inherent in him. these uses are good to the extent that they have the divine in them, that is, to the extent that man looks to the divine and to heaven, and finds his good in these, and sees in wealth only a subservient good. {footnote } every good has its delight from use and in accordance with use (n. , , ); also its quality; and in consequence such as the use is such is the good (n. ). all the happiness and delight of life is from uses (n. ). in general, life is a life of uses (n. ). angelic life consists in the goods of love and charity, thus in performing uses (n. ). the ends that man has in view, which are uses, are the only things that the lord, and thus the angels, consider (n. , , ). the kingdom of the lord is a kingdom of uses (n. , , , , , ). performing uses is serving the lord (n. ). everyone's character is such as are the uses he performs (n. , ); illustrated (n. ). . but the lot of the rich that have not believed in the divine, and have cast out of their minds the things pertaining to heaven and the church, is the opposite of this. such are in hell, where filth, misery, and want exist; and into these riches that are loved as an end are changed; and not only riches, but also their very uses, which are either a wish to live as they like and indulge in pleasures, and to have opportunity to give the mind more fully and freely to shameful practices, or a wish to rise above others whom they despise. such riches and such uses, because they have nothing spiritual, but only what is earthly in them, become filthy; for a spiritual purpose in riches and their uses is like a soul in the body, or like the light of heaven in moist ground; and such riches and uses become putrid as a body does without a soul, or as moist ground does without the light of heaven. such are those that have been led and drawn away from heaven by riches. . every man's ruling affection or love remains with him after death, nor is it rooted out to eternity, since a man's spirit is wholly what his love is, and what is unknown, the body of every spirit and angel is the outward form of his love, exactly corresponding to his inward form, which is the form of his disposition and mind; consequently the quality of his spirit is known from his face, movements, and speech. while a man is living in the world the quality of the spirit would be known if he had not learned to counterfeit in his face, movements, and speech what is not his own. all this shows that man remains to eternity such as his ruling affection or love is. it has been granted me to talk with some who lived seventeen hundred years ago, and whose lives are well known from writings of that time, and it was found that the same love still rules them as when they were on the earth. this makes clear also that the love of riches, and of uses from riches, remains with everyone to eternity, and that it is exactly the same as the love acquired in the world, yet with the difference that in the case of those who devoted their riches to good uses riches are changed in the other world into delights which are in accord with the uses performed; while in the case of those who devoted their riches to evil uses riches are turned into mere filth, in which they then take the same delight as they did in the world in their riches devoted to evil uses. such then take delight in filth because filthy pleasures and shameful acts, which had been the uses to which they had devoted their riches, and also avarice, which is a love of riches without regard to use, correspond to filth. spiritual filth is nothing else. . the poor come into heaven not on account of their poverty but because of their life. everyone's life follows him, whether he be rich or poor. there is no peculiar mercy for one in preference to another;{ } he that has lived well is received, while he that has not lived well is rejected. moreover, poverty leads and draws man away from heaven just as much as wealth does. there are many among the poor who are not content with their lot, who strive after many things, and believe riches to be blessings;{ } and when they do not gain them are much provoked, and harbor ill thoughts about the divine providence; they also envy others the good things they possess, and are as ready as any one to defraud others whenever they have opportunity, and to indulge in filthy pleasures. but this is not true of the poor who are content with their lot, and are careful and diligent in their work, who love labor better than idleness, and act sincerely and faithfully, and at the same time live a christian life. i have now and then talked with those belonging to the peasantry and common people, who while living in the world believed in god and did what was just and right in their occupations. since they had an affection for knowing truth they inquired about charity and about faith, having heard in this world much about faith and in the other life much about charity. they were therefore told that charity is everything that pertains to life, and faith everything that pertains to doctrine; consequently charity is willing and doing what is just and right in every work, and faith is thinking justly and rightly; and faith and charity are conjoined, the same as doctrine and a life in accordance with it, or the same as thought and will; and faith becomes charity when that which a man thinks justly and rightly he also wills and does, and then they are not two but one. this they well understood, and rejoiced, saying that in the world they did not understand believing to be anything else but living. {footnote } there can be no mercy apart from means, but only mercy through means, that is, to those who live in accordance with the commandments of the lord; such the lord by his mercy leads continually in the world, and afterwards to eternity (n. , ). {footnote } dignities and riches are not real blessings, therefore they are granted both to the wicked and to the good (n. , , ). the real blessing is reception of love and faith from the lord, and conjunction thereby, for this is the source of eternal happiness (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). . all this makes clear that the rich and the poor alike come into heaven, the one as easily as the other. the belief that the poor enter heaven easily and the rich with difficulty comes from not understanding the word where the rich and the poor are mentioned. in the word those that have an abundance of knowledges of good and truth, thus who are within the church where the word is, are meant in the spiritual sense by the "rich;" while those who lack these knowledges, and yet desire them, thus who are outside of the church and where there is no word, are meant by the "poor." [ ] the rich man clothed in purple and fine linen, and cast into hell, means the jewish nation, which is called rich because it had the word and had an abundance of knowledges of good and truth therefrom, "garments of purple" signifying knowledges of good, and "garments of fine linen" knowledges of truth.{ } but the poor man who lay at the rich man's gate and longed to be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table, and who was carried by angels into heaven, means the nations that have no knowledges of good and truth and yet desired them (luke : - ). also the rich that were called to a great supper and excused themselves mean the jewish nation, and the poor brought in in their place mean the nations outside of the church (luke : - ). [ ] by the rich man of whom the lord says: it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of god (matt. : ), the rich in both the natural sense and the spiritual sense are meant. in the natural sense the rich are those that have an abundance of riches and set their heart upon them; but in the spiritual sense they are those that have an abundance of knowledges and learning, which are spiritual riches, and who desire by means of these to introduce themselves into the things of heaven and the church from their own intelligence. and because this is contrary to divine order it is said to be "easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye," a "camel" signifying in general in the spiritual sense the knowing faculty and things known, and a "needle's eye" signifying spiritual truth.{ } that such is the meaning of a "camel" and a "needle's eye" is not at present known, because the knowledge that teaches what is signified in the spiritual sense by the things said in the literal sense of the word has not up to this time been disclosed. in every particular of the word there is a spiritual sense and also a natural sense; for the word was made to consist wholly of correspondences between natural and spiritual things in order that conjunction of heaven with the world, or of angels with men might thereby be effected, direct conjunction having ceased. this makes clear who in particular are meant in the word by the "rich man." [ ] that the "rich" in the word mean in the spiritual sense those who are in knowledges of truth and good, and "riches" the knowledges themselves, which are spiritual riches, can be seen from various passages (as in isa. : - ; : , ; : ; jer. : ; : ; : , ; : ; dan. : - ; ezek. : , ; : to the end; zech. : , ; psalm : ; hosea : ; apoc. : , ; luke : ; and elsewhere). also that the "poor" in the spiritual sense signify those who do not possess knowledges of good and of truth, and yet desire them (matt. : ; luke : , ; : ; isa. : ; : ; : , ; zeph. : , ). all these passages may be seen explained in accordance with the spiritual sense in the arcana coelestia (n. ). {footnote } "garments" signify truths, thus knowledges (n. , , , , , , , ). "purple" signifies celestial good (n. ). "fine linen" signifies truth from a celestial origin (n. , , ). {footnote } a "camel" signifies in the word the knowing faculty and knowledge in general (n. , , , ). what is meant by "needlework, working with a needle," and therefore by a "needle" (n. ). to enter from knowledge into the truths of faith is contrary to divine order (n. ). those that do this become demented in respect to the thing of heaven and the church (n. - , , , ). and in the other life, when they think about spiritual things they become as it were drunken (n. ). further about such (n. ). examples showing that when spiritual things are entered into through knowledges they cannot be comprehended (n. , , , , ). it is permissible to enter from spiritual truth into knowledges which pertain to the natural man, but not the reverse, because there can be spiritual influx into the natural, but not natural influx into the spiritual (n. , , , , , , , ). the truths of the word and of the church must first be acknowledged, after which it is permissible to consider knowledges, but not before (n. ). . xl. marriages in heaven. as heaven is from the human race, and angels therefore are of both sexes, and from creation woman is for man and man is for woman, thus the one belongs to the other, and this love is innate in both, it follows that there are marriages in heaven as well as on the earth. but marriages in heaven differ widely from marriages on the earth. therefore what marriages in heaven are, and how they differ from marriages on the earth and wherein they are like them, shall now be told. . marriage in heaven is a conjunction of two into one mind. it must first be explained what this conjunction is. the mind consists of two parts, one called the understanding and the other the will. when these two parts act as one they are called one mind. in heaven the husband acts the part called the understanding and the wife acts the part called the will. when this conjunction, which belongs to man's interiors, descends into the lower parts pertaining to the body, it is perceived and felt as love, and this love is marriage love. this shows that marriage love has its origin in the conjunction of two into one mind. this in heaven is called cohabitation; and the two are not called two but one. so in heaven a married pair is spoken of, not as two, but as one angel.{ } {footnote } it is not known at this day what marriage love is, or whence it is (n. ). marriage love is willing what another wills, thus willing mutually and reciprocally (n. ). those that are in marriage love dwell together in the inmosts of life (n. ). it is such a union of two minds that from love they are one (n. , ). for the love of minds, which is spiritual love, is a union (n. , , , , , , - , , ). . moreover, such a conjunction of husband and wife in the inmosts of their minds comes from their very creation; for man is born to be intellectual, that is, to think from the understanding, while woman is born to be affectional, that is, to think from her will; and this is evident from the inclination or natural disposition of each, also from their form; from the disposition, in that man acts from reason and woman from affection; from the form in that man has a rougher and less beautiful face, a deeper voice and a harder body; while woman has a smoother and more beautiful face, a softer voice, and a more tender body. there is a like difference between understanding and will, or between thought and affection; so, too, between truth and good and between faith and love; for truth and faith belong to the understanding, and good and love to the will. from this it is that in the word "youth" or "man" means in the spiritual sense the understanding of truth, and "virgin" or "woman" affection for good; also that the church, on account of its affection for good and truth, is called a "woman" and a "virgin;" also that all those that are in affection for good are called "virgins" (as in apoc. : ).{ } {footnote } in the word "young men" signify understanding of truth, or the intelligent (n. ). "men" have the same signification (n. , , , , , , , , , ). "woman" signifies affection for good and truth (n. , , , , ); likewise the church (n. , , , ); "wife" has the same signification (n. , , , , ); with what difference (n. , , , , ). in the highest sense "husband and wife" are predicated of the lord and of his conjunction with heaven and the church (n. ). a "virgin" signifies affection for good (n. , , , , , ); likewise the church (n. , , , , , , ). . everyone, whether man or woman, possesses understanding and will; but with the man the understanding predominates, and with the woman the will predominates, and the character is determined by that which predominates. yet in heavenly marriages there is no predominance; for the will of the wife is also the husband's will, and the understanding of the husband is also the wife's understanding, since each loves to will and to think like the other, that is mutually and reciprocally. thus are they conjoined into one. this conjunction is actual conjunction, for the will of the wife enters into the understanding of the husband, and the understanding of the husband into the will of the wife, and this especially when they look into one another's faces; for, as has been repeatedly said above, there is in the heavens a sharing of thoughts and affections, more especially with husband and wife, because they reciprocally love each other. this makes clear what the conjunction of minds is that makes marriage and produces marriage love in the heavens, namely, that one wishes what is his own to be the others, and this reciprocally. . i have been told by angels that so far as a married pair are so conjoined they are in marriage love, and also to the same extent in intelligence, wisdom and happiness, because divine truth and divine good which are the source of all intelligence, wisdom, and happiness, flow chiefly into marriage love; consequently marriage love, since it is also the marriage of good and truth, is the very plane of divine influx. for that love, as it is a conjunction of the understanding and will, is also a conjunction of truth and good, since the understanding receives divine truth and is formed out of truths, and the will receives divine good and is formed out of goods. for what a man wills is good to him, and what he understands is truth to him; therefore it is the same whether you say conjunction of understanding and will or conjunction of truth and good. conjunction of truth and good is what makes an angel; it makes his intelligence, wisdom, and happiness; for an angel is an angel accordingly as good in him is conjoined with truth and truth with good; or what is the same, accordingly as love in him is conjoined with faith and faith with love. . the divine that goes forth from the lord flows chiefly into marriage love because marriage love descends from a conjunction of good and truth; for it is the same thing as has been said above, whether you say conjunction of understanding and will or conjunction of good and truth. conjunction of good and truth has its origin in the lord's divine love towards all who are in heaven and on earth. from divine love divine good goes forth, and divine good is received by angels and men in divine truths. as truth is the sole receptacle of good nothing can be received from the lord and from heaven by any one who is not in truths; therefore just to the extent that the truths in man are conjoined to good is man conjoined to the lord and to heaven. this, then, is the very origin of marriage love, and for this reason that love is the very plane of divine influx. this shows why the conjunction of good and truth in heaven is called the heavenly marriage, and heaven is likened in the word to a marriage, and is called a marriage; and the lord is called the "bridegroom" and "husband," and heaven and also the church are called the "bride" and the "wife."{ } {footnote } the origin, cause, and essence of true marriage love is the marriage of good and truth; thus it is from heaven (n. , ). respecting angelic spirit, who have a perception whether there is anything of marriage from the idea of a conjunction of good and truth (n. ). it is with marriage love in every respect the same as it is with the conjunction of good and truth (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). how and with whom the conjunction of good and truth is effected (n. , , , , , , , , , - , ). only those that are in good and truth from the lord know what true marriage love is (n. ). in the word "marriage" signifies the marriage of good and truth (n. , , ). the kingdom of the lord and heaven are in true marriage love (n. ). . good and truth conjoined in an angel or a man are not two but one, since good is then good of truth and truth is truth of good. this conjunction may be likened to a man's thinking what he wills and willing what he thinks, when the thought and will make one, that is, one mind; for thought forms, that is, presents in form that which the will wills, and the will gives delight to it; and this is why a married pair in heaven are not called two, but one angel. this also is what is meant by the lord's words: have ye not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, for this cause shall a man leave father and mother and shall cleave to his wife, and they twain shall become one flesh? therefore, they are no more twain, but one flesh. what, therefore, god hath joined together let not man put asunder. not all can receive this word but they to whom it is given (matt. : - , ; mark : - ; gen. : ). this is a description both of the heavenly marriage in which the angels are and of the marriage of good and truth, "man's not putting asunder what god has joined together" meaning that good is not to be separated from truth. . from all this the origin of true marriage love is made clear, namely, that it is formed first in the minds of those who are in marriage, and descends therefrom and is derived into the body, where it is perceived and felt as love; for whatever is felt and perceived in the body has its origin in the spiritual, because it is from the understanding and the will. the understanding and the will constitute the spiritual man. whatever descends from the spiritual man into the body presents itself there under another aspect, although it is similar and accordant, like soul and body, and like cause and effect; as can be seen from what has been said and shown in the two chapters on correspondences. . i heard an angel describing true marriage love and its heavenly delights in this manner: that it is the lord's divine in the heavens, which is divine good and divine truth so united in two persons, that they are not as two but as one. he said that in heaven the two consorts are marriage love, since everyone is his own good and his own truth in respect both to mind and to body, the body being an image of the mind because it is formed after its likeness. from this he drew the conclusion that the divine is imaged in the two that are in true marriage love; and as the divine is so imaged so is heaven, because the entire heaven is divine good and divine truth going forth from the lord; and this is why all things of heaven are inscribed on marriage love with more blessings and delights than it is possible to number. he expressed the number by a term that involved myriads of myriads. he wondered that the man of the church should know nothing about this, seeing that the church is the lord's heaven on the earth, and heaven is a marriage of good and truth. he said he was astounded to think that within the church, even more than outside of it, adulteries are committed and even justified; the delight of which in itself is nothing else in a spiritual sense, and consequently in the spiritual world, than the delight of the love of falsity conjoined to evil, which delight is infernal delight, because it is the direct opposite of the delight of heaven, which is the delight of the love of truth conjoined with good. . everyone knows that a married pair who love each other are interiorly united, and that the essential of marriage is the union of dispositions and minds. and from this it can be seen that such as their essential dispositions or minds are, such is their union and such their love for each other. the mind is formed solely out of truths and goods, for all things in the universe have relation to good and truth and to their conjunction; consequently such as the truths and goods are out of which the minds are formed, exactly such is the union of minds; and consequently the most perfect union is the union of minds that are formed out of genuine truths and goods. let it be known that no two things mutually love each other more than truth and good do; and therefore it is from that love that true marriage love descends.{ } falsity and evil also love each other, but this love is afterwards changed into hell. {footnote } all things in the universe, both in heaven and in the world, have relation to good and truth (n. , , , , , , ). and to the conjunction of these (n. ). between good and truth there is marriage (n. , , ). good loves truth, and from love longs for truth and for the conjunction of truth with itself, and from this they are in a perpetual endeavor to be conjoined (n. , , ). the life of truth is from good (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). truth is the form of good (n. , , , ). truth is to good as water is to bread (n. ). . from what has now been said about the origin of marriage love one may conclude who are in that love and who are not; namely, that those are in marriage love who are in divine good from divine truths; and that marriage love is genuine just to the extent that the truths are genuine with which the good is conjoined. and as all the good that is conjoined with truths is from the lord, it follows that no one can be in true marriage love unless he acknowledges the lord and his divine; for without that acknowledgment the lord cannot flow in and be conjoined with the truths that are in man. . evidently, then, those that are in falsities, and especially those that are in falsities from evil, are not in marriage love. moreover, those that are in evil and in falsities therefrom have the interiors of their minds closed up; and in such, therefore, there can be no source of marriage love; but below those interiors, in the external or natural man separated from the internal, there can be a conjunction of falsity and evil, which is called infernal marriage. i have been permitted to see what this marriage is between those that are in the falsities of evil, which is called infernal marriage. such converse together, and are united by a lustful desire, but inwardly they burn with a deadly hatred towards each other, too intense to be described. . nor can marriage love exist between two partners belonging to different religions, because the truth of the one does not agree with the good of the other; and two unlike and discordant kinds of good and truth cannot make one mind out of two; and in consequence the love of such does not have its origin in any thing spiritual. if they live together in harmony it is solely on natural grounds.{ } and this is why in the heavens marriages are found only with those who are in the same society, because such are in like good and truth and not with those outside of the society. it may be seen above (n. , seq.) that all there in a society are in like good and truth, and differ from those outside the society. this was represented in the israelitish nation by marriages being contracted within tribes, and particularly within families, and not outside of them. {footnote } marriages between those of different religions are not permissible, because there can be no conjunction of like good and truth in the interiors (n. ). . nor is true marriage love possible between one husband and several wives; for its spiritual origin, which is the formation of one mind out of two, is thus destroyed; and in consequence interior conjunction, which is the conjunction of good and truth, from which is the very essence of that love, is also destroyed. marriage with more than one is like an understanding divided among several wills; or it is like a man attached not to one but to several churches, since his faith is so distracted thereby as to come to naught. the angels declare that marrying several wives is wholly contrary to divine order, and that they know this from several reasons, one of which is that as soon as they think of marriage with more than one they are alienated from internal blessedness and heavenly happiness, and become like drunken men, because good is separated from its truth in them. and as the interiors of their mind are brought into such a state merely by thinking about it with some intention, they see clearly that marriage with more than one would close up their internal mind, and cause marriage to be displaced by lustful love, which love withdraws from heaven.{ } [ ] they declare further that this is not easily comprehended by men because there are few who are in genuine marriage love, and those who are not in it know nothing whatever of the interior delight that is in that love, knowing only the delight of lust, and this delight is changed into what is undelightful after living together a short time; while the delight of true marriage love not only endures to old age in the world, but after death becomes the delight of heaven and is there filled with an interior delight that grows more and more perfect to eternity. they said also that the varieties of blessedness of true marriage love could be enumerated even to many thousands, not even one of which is known to man, or could enter into the comprehension of any one who is not in the marriage of good and truth from the lord. {footnote } as husband and wife should be one, and should live together in the inmost of life, and as they together make one angel in heaven, so true marriage love is impossible between one husband and several wives (n. , ). to marry several wives at the same time is contrary to divine order (n. ). that there is no marriage except between one husband and one wife is clearly perceived by those who are in the lord's celestial kingdom (n. , , , ). for the reason that the angels there are in the marriage of good and truth (n. ). the israelitish nation were permitted to marry several wives, and to add concubines to wives, but not christians, for the reason that that nation was in externals separate from internals, while christians are able to enter into internals, thus into the marriage of good and truth (n. , , .) . the love of dominion of one over the other entirely takes away marriage love and its heavenly delight, for as has been said above, marriage love and its delight consists in the will of one being that of the other, and this mutually and reciprocally. this is destroyed by love of dominion in marriage, since he that domineers wishes his will alone to be in the other, and nothing of the other's will to be reciprocally in himself, which destroys all mutuality, and thus all sharing of any love and its delight one with the other. and yet this sharing and consequent conjunction are the interior delight itself that is called blessedness in marriage. this blessedness, with everything that is heavenly and spiritual in marriage love, is so completely extinguished by love of dominion as to destroy even all knowledge of it; and if that love were referred to it would be held in such contempt that any mention of blessedness from that source would excite either laughter or anger. [ ] when one wills or loves what the other wills or loves each has freedom, since all freedom is from love; but where there is dominion no one has freedom; one is a servant, and the other who rules is also a servant, for he is led as a servant by the lust of ruling. but all this is wholly beyond the comprehension of one who does not know what the freedom of heavenly love is. nevertheless from what has been said above about the origin and essence of marriage love it can be seen that so far as dominion enters, minds are not united but divided. dominion subjugates, and a subjugated mind has either no will or an opposing will. if it has no will it has also no love; and if it has an opposing will there is hatred in place of love. [ ] the interiors of those who live in such marriage are in mutual collision and strife, as two opposites are wont to be, however their exteriors may be restrained and kept quiet for the sake of tranquillity. the collision and antagonism of the interiors of such are disclosed after their death, when commonly they come together and fight like enemies and tear each other; for they then act in accordance with the state of the interiors. frequently i have been permitted to see them fighting and tearing one another, sometimes with great vengeance and cruelty. for in the other life everyone's interiors are set at liberty; and they are no longer restrained by outward bounds or by worldly considerations, everyone then being just such as he is interiorly. . to some a likeness of marriage love is granted. yet unless they are in the love of good and truth there is no marriage love, but only a love which from several causes appears like marriage love, namely, that they may secure good service at home; that they may be free from care, or at peace, or at ease; that they may be cared for in sickness or in old age; or that the children whom they love may be attended to. some are constrained by fear of the other consort, or by fear of the loss of reputation, or other evil consequences, and some by a controlling lust. moreover, in the two consorts marriage love may differ, in one there may be more or less of it, in the other little or none; and because of this difference heaven may be the portion of one and hell the portion of the other. . [a.] in the inmost heaven there is genuine marriage love because the angels there are in the marriage of good and truth, and also in innocence. the angels of the lower heavens are also in marriage love, but only so far as they are in innocence; for marriage love viewed in itself is a state of innocence; and this is why consorts who are in the marriage love enjoy heavenly delights together, which appear before their minds almost like the sports of innocence, as between little children; for everything delights their minds, since heaven with its joy flows into every particular of their lives. for the same reason marriage love is represented in heaven by the most beautiful objects. i have seen it represented by a maiden of indescribable beauty encompassed with a bright white cloud. it is said that the angels in heaven have all their beauty from marriage love. affections and thought flowing from that love are represented by diamond-like auras with scintillations as if from carbuncles and rubies, which are attended by delights that affect the interiors of the mind. in a word, heaven itself is represented in marriage love, because heaven with the angels is the conjunction of good and truth, and it is this conjunction that makes marriage love. . [b.] marriages in heaven differ from marriages on the earth in that the procreation of offspring is another purpose of marriages on the earth, but not of marriages in heaven, since in heaven the procreation of good and truth takes the place of procreation of offspring. the former takes the place of the latter because marriage in heaven is a marriage of good and truth (as has been shown above); and as in that marriage good and truth and their conjunction are loved above all things so these are what are propagated by marriages in heaven. and because of this, in the word births and generations signify spiritual births and generations, which are births and generations of good and truth; mother and father signify truth conjoined to good, which is what procreates; sons and daughters signify the truths and goods that are procreated; and sons-in-law and daughters-in-law conjunction of these, and so on.{ } all this makes clear that marriages in heaven are not like marriages on earth. in heaven marryings are spiritual, and cannot properly be called marryings, but conjunctions of minds from the conjunction of good and truth. but on earth there are marryings, because these are not of the spirit alone but also of the flesh. and as there are no marryings in heaven, consorts there are not called husband and wife; but from the angelic idea of the joining of two minds into one, each consort designates the other by a name signifying one's own, mutually and reciprocally. this shows how the lord's words in regard to marrying and giving in marriage (luke : , ), are to be understood. {footnote } conceptions, pregnancies, births, and generations signify those that are spiritual, that is, such as pertain to good and truth, or to love and faith (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , ). therefore generation and birth signify regeneration and rebirth through faith and love (n. , , , ). mother signifies the church in respect to truth, and thus the truth of the church; father the church in respect to good, and thus the good of the church (n. , , , , ). sons signify affections for truth, and thus truths (n. , , , , , , , ). daughters signify affections for good, and the goods (n. - , , , , , , ). son-in-law signifies truth associated with affection for good (n. ). daughter-in-law signifies good associated with its truth (n. ). . i have also been permitted to see how marriages are contracted in the heavens. as everywhere in heaven those who are alike are united and those who are unlike are separated, so every society in heaven consists of those who are alike. like are brought to like not by themselves but by the lord (see above, n. , , , seq.); and equally consort to consort whose minds can be joined into one are drawn together; and consequently at first sight they inmostly love each other, and see themselves to be consorts, and enter into marriage. for this reason all marriages in heaven are from the lord alone. they have also marriage feasts; and these are attended by many; but the festivities differ in different societies. . marriages on the earth are most holy in the sight of the angels of heaven because they are seminaries of the human race, and also of the angels of heaven (heaven being from the human race, as already shown under that head), also because these marriages are from a spiritual origin, namely, from the marriage of good and truth, and because the lord's divine flows especially into marriage love. adulteries on the other hand are regarded by the angels as profane because they are contrary to marriage love; for as in marriages the angels behold the marriage of good and truth, which is heaven, so in adulteries they behold the marriage of falsity and evil, which is hell. if, then, they but hear adulteries mentioned they turn away. and this is why heaven is closed up to man when he commits adultery from delight; and when heaven is closed man no longer acknowledges the divine nor any thing of the faith of church.{ } that all who are in hell are antagonistic to marriage love i have been permitted to perceive from the sphere exhaling from hell, which was like an unceasing endeavor to dissolve and violate marriages; which shows that the reigning delight in hell is the delight of adultery, and the delight of adultery is a delight in destroying the conjunction of good and truth, which conjunction makes heaven. from this it follows that the delight of adultery is an infernal delight directly opposed to the delight of marriage, which is a heavenly delight. {footnote } adulteries are profane (n. , ). heaven is closed to adulterers (n. ). those that have experienced delight in adulteries cannot come into heaven (n. , , - , , ). adulterers are unmerciful and destitute of religion (n. , , ). the ideas of adulterers are filthy (n. , ). in the other life they love filth and are in filthy hells (n. , , ). in the word adulteries signify adulterations of good, and whoredoms perversions of truth (n. , , , , , ). . there were certain spirits who, from a practice acquired in the life of the body, infested me with peculiar craftiness, and this by a very gentle wave-like influx like the usual influx of well disposed spirits; but i perceived that there was craftiness and other like evils in them prompting them to ensnare and deceive. finally, i talked with one of them who, i was told, had been when he lived in the world the leader of an army; and perceiving that there was a lustfulness in the ideas of his thought i talked with him about marriage, using spiritual speech with representatives, which fully expresses all that is meant and many things in a moment. he said that in the life of the body he had regarded adulteries as of no account. but i was permitted to tell him that adulteries are heinous, although to those like himself they do not appear to be such, and even appear permissible, on account of their seductive and enticing delights. that they are heinous he might know from the fact that marriages are the seminaries of the human race, and thus also the seminaries of the heavenly kingdom; consequently they must on no account be violated, but must be esteemed holy. this he might know from the fact, which he ought to know because of his being in the other life and in a state of perception, that marriage love descends from the lord through heaven, and from that love, as from a parent, mutual love, which is the foundation of heaven is derived; and again from this, that if adulterers merely draw near to heavenly societies they perceive their own stench and cast themselves down therefrom towards hell. at least he must have known that to violate marriages is contrary to divine laws, and contrary to the civil laws of all kingdoms, also contrary to the genuine light of reason, because it is contrary to both divine and human order; not to mention other considerations. but he replied that he had not so thought in the life of the body. he wished to reason about whether it were so, but was told that truth does not admit of such reasonings; for reasonings defend what one delights in, and thus one's evils and falsities; that he ought first to think about the things that had been said because they are truths; or at least think about them from the principle well known in the world, that no one should do to another what he is unwilling that another should do to him; thus he should consider whether he himself would not have detested adulteries if any one had in that way deceived his wife, whom he had loved as everyone loves in the first period of marriage, and if in his state of wrath he had expressed himself on the subject; also whether being a man of talent he would not in that case have confirmed himself more decidedly than others against adulteries, even condemning them to hell. . i have been shown how the delights of marriage love advance towards heaven, and the delights of adultery towards hell. the advance of the delights of marriage love towards heaven is into states of blessedness and happiness continually increasing until they become innumerable and ineffable, and the more interiorly they advance the more innumerable and more ineffable they become, until they reach the very states of blessedness and happiness of the inmost heaven, or of the heaven of innocence, and this through the most perfect freedom; for all freedom is from love, thus the most perfect freedom is from marriage love, which is heavenly love itself. on the other hand, the advance of adultery is towards hell, and by degrees to the lowest hell, where there is nothing but what is direful and horrible. such a lot awaits adulterers after their life in the world, those being meant by adulterers who feel a delight in adulteries, and no delight in marriages. . xli. the employments of angels in heaven. it is impossible to enumerate the employments in the heavens, still less to describe them in detail, but something may be said about them in a general way; for they are numberless, and vary in accordance with the functions of the societies. each society has its peculiar function, for as societies are distinct in accordance with goods (see above, n. ), so they are distinct in accordance with uses, because with all in the heavens goods are goods in act, which are uses. everyone there performs a use, for the lord's kingdom is a kingdom of uses.{ } {footnote } the lord's kingdom is a kingdom of uses (n. , , , , , ). performing uses is serving the lord (n. ). in the other life all must perform uses (n. ); even the wicked and infernal, but in what manner (n. ). all are such as are the uses they perform (n. , ); illustrated (n. ). angelic blessedness consists in the goods of charity, that is, in performing uses (n. ). . in the heavens as on the earth there are many forms of service, for there are ecclesiastical affairs, there are civil affairs, and there are domestic affairs. that there are ecclesiastical affairs is evident from what has been said and shown above, where divine worship is treated of (n. - ); civil affairs, where governments in heaven are treated of (n. - ); and domestic affairs, where the dwellings and homes of angels are treated of (n. - ); and marriages in heaven (n. - ); all of which show that in every heavenly society there are many employments and services. . all things in the heavens are organized in accordance with divine order, which is everywhere guarded by the services performed by angels, those things that pertain to the general good or use by the wiser angels, those that pertain to particular uses by the less wise, and so on. they are subordinated just as uses are subordinated in the divine order; and for this reason a dignity is connected with every function according to the dignity of the use. nevertheless, an angel does not claim dignity to himself, but ascribes all dignity to the use; and as the use is the good that he accomplishes, and all good is from the lord, so he ascribes all dignity to the lord. therefore he that thinks of honor for himself and subsequently for the use, and not for the use and subsequently for himself, can perform no function in heaven, because this is looking away backwards from the lord, and putting self in the first place and use in the second. when use is spoken of the lord also is meant, because, as has just been said, use is good, and good is from the lord. . from this it may be inferred what subordinations in the heavens are, namely, that as any one loves, esteems, and honors the use he also loves, esteems, and honors the person with whom the use is connected; also that the person is loved, esteemed and honored in the measure in which he ascribes the use to the lord and not to himself; for to that extent he is wise, and the uses he performs he performs from good. spiritual love, esteem, and honor are nothing else than the love, esteem, and honor of the use in the person, together with the honor to the person because of the use, and not honor to the use because of the person. this is the way, moreover, in which men are regarded when they are regarded from spiritual truth, for one man is then seen to be like another, whether he be in great or in little dignity, the only perceptible difference being a difference in wisdom; and wisdom is loving use, that is, loving the good of a fellow citizen, of society, of one's country, and of the church. it is this that constitutes love to the lord, because every good that is a good of use is from the lord; and it constitutes also love towards the neighbor, because the neighbor means the good that is to be loved in a fellow citizen, in society, in one's country, and in the church, and that is to be done in their behalf.{ } {footnote } loving the neighbor is not loving the person, but loving that which is in him and which constitutes him (n. , ). those who love the person, and not that which is in him, and which constitutes him, love equally an evil man and a good man (n. ); and do good alike to the evil and to the good; and yet to do good to the evil is to do evil to the good and that is not loving the neighbor (n. , , ). the judge who punishes the evil that they may be reformed, and may not contaminate or injure the good, loves his neighbor (n. , , ). every individual and every community also one's country and the church, and in the most general sense the kingdom of the lord, are the neighbor, and to do good to these from a love of good in accord with the quality of their state, is loving the neighbor; that is, the neighbor is their good, which is to be consulted (n. - , ). . as all the societies in the heavens are distinct in accordance with their goods (as said above, n. , seq.) so they are distinct in accordance with their uses, goods being goods in act, that is, goods of charity which are uses. some societies are employed in taking care of little children; others in teaching and training them as they grow up; others in teaching and training in like manner the boys and girls that have acquired a good disposition from their education in the world, and in consequence have come into heaven. there are other societies that teach the simple good from the christian world, and lead them into the way to heaven; there are others that in like manner teach and lead the various heathen nations. there are some societies that defend from infestations by evil spirits the newly arrived spirits that have just come from the world; there are some that attend upon the spirits that are in the lower earth; also some that attend upon spirits that are in the hells, and restrain them from tormenting each other beyond prescribed limits; and there are some that attend upon those who are being raised from the dead. in general, angels from each society are sent to men to watch over them and to lead them away from evil affections and consequent thoughts, and to inspire them with good affections so far as they will receive them in freedom; and by means of these they also direct the deeds or works of men by removing as far as possible evil intentions. when angels are with men they dwell as it were in their affections; and they are near to man just in the degree in which he is in good from truths, and are distant from him just in the degree in which his life is distant from good.{ } but all these employments of angels are employments of the lord through the angels, for the angels perform them from the lord and not from themselves. for this reason, in the word in its internal sense "angels" mean, not angels, but something belonging to the lord; and for the same reason angels are called "gods" in the word.{ } {footnote } of the angels that are with little children and afterwards with boys, and thus in succession (n. ). man is raised from the dead by means of angels; from experiences (n. - ). angels are sent to those who are in hell to prevent their tormenting each other beyond measure (n. ). of the services rendered by the angels to men on their coming into the other life (n. ). there are spirits and angels with all men and man is led by the lord by means of spirits and angels (n. , , , , , - , - , ). angels have dominion over evil spirits (n. ). {footnote } in the word by angels something divine from the lord is signified (n. , , , , , ). in the word angels are called "gods," because of their reception of divine truth and good from the lord (n. , , , ). . these employments of the angels are their general employments; but each one has his particular charge; for every general use is composed of innumerable uses which are called mediate, ministering, and subservient uses, all and each coordinated and subordinated in accordance with divine order, and taken together constituting and perfecting the general use, which is the general good. . those are concerned with ecclesiastical affairs in heaven who in the world loved the word and eagerly sought in it for truths, not with honor or gain as an end, but uses of life both for themselves and for others. these in heaven are in enlightenment and in the light of wisdom in the measure of their love and desire for use; and this light of wisdom they receive from the word in heaven, which is not a natural word, as it is in the world, but a spiritual word (see above, n. .) these minister in the preaching office; and in accordance with divine order those are in higher positions who from enlightenment excel others in wisdom. [ ] those are concerned with civil affairs who in the world loved their country, and loved its general good more than their own, and did what is just and right from a love for what is just and right. so far as these from the eagerness of love have investigated the laws of justice and have thereby become intelligent, they have the ability to perform such functions in heaven, and they perform these in that position or degree that accords with their intelligence, their intelligence being in equal degree with their love of use for the general good. [ ] furthermore, there are in heaven more functions and services and occupations than can be enumerated; while in the world there are few in comparison. but however many there may be that are so employed, they are all in the delight of their work and labor from a love of use, and no one from a love of self or of gain; and as all the necessaries of life are furnished them gratuitously they have no love of gain for the sake of a living. they are housed gratuitously, clothed gratuitously, and fed gratuitously. evidently, then, those that have loved themselves and the world more than use have no lot in heaven; for his love or affection remains with everyone after his life in the world, and is not extirpated to eternity (see above, n. ). . in heaven everyone comes into his own occupation in accordance with correspondence, and the correspondence is not with the occupation but with the use of each occupation (see above, n. ); for there is a correspondence of all things (see n. ). he that in heaven comes into the employment or occupation corresponding to his use is in much the same condition of life as when he was in the world; since what is spiritual and what is natural make one by correspondences; yet there is this difference, that he then comes into an interior delight, because into spiritual life, which is an interior life, and therefore more receptive of heavenly blessedness. . xlii. heavenly joy and happiness. hardly any one at present knows what heaven is or what heavenly joy is. those who have given any thought to these subjects have had so general and so gross an idea about them as scarcely to amount to anything. from spirits that have come from the world into the other life i have been able to learn fully what idea they had of heaven and heavenly joy; for when left to themselves, as they were in the world, they think as they then did. there is this ignorance about heavenly joy for the reason that those who have thought about it have formed their opinion from the outward joys pertaining to the natural man, and have not known what the inner and spiritual man is, nor in consequence the nature of his delight and blessedness; and therefore even if they had been told by those who are in spiritual or inward delight what heavenly joy is, would have had no comprehension of it, for it could have fallen only into an idea not yet recognized, thus into no perception; and would therefore have been among the things that the natural man rejects. yet everyone can understand that when a man leaves his outer or natural man he comes into the inner or spiritual man, and consequently can see that heavenly delight is internal and spiritual, not external and natural; and being internal and spiritual, it is more pure and exquisite, and affects the interiors of man which pertain to his soul or spirit. from these things alone everyone may conclude that his delight is such as the delight of his spirit has previously been and that the delight of the body, which is called the delight of the flesh, is in comparison not heavenly; also that whatever is in the spirit of man when he leaves the body remains after death, since he then lives a man-spirit. . all delights flow forth from love, for that which a man loves he feels to be delightful. no one has any delight from any other source. from this it follows that such as the love is such is the delight. the delights of the body or of the flesh all flow forth from the love of self and love of the world; consequently they are lusts and their pleasures; while the delights of the soul or spirit all flow forth from love to the lord and love towards the neighbor, consequently they are affections for good and truth and interior satisfactions. these loves with their delights flow in out of heaven from the lord by an inner way, that is, from above, and affect the interiors; while the former loves with their delights flow in from the flesh and from the world by an external way, that is, from beneath, and affect the exteriors. therefore as far as the two loves of heaven are received and make themselves felt, the interiors of man, which belong to his soul or spirit and which look from the world heavenwards, are opened, while so far as the two loves of the world are received and make themselves felt, his exteriors, which belong to the body or flesh and look away from heaven towards the world, are opened. as loves flow in and are received their delights also flow in, the delights of heaven into the interiors and the delights of the world into the exteriors, since all delight, as has just been said above, belongs to love. . heaven in itself is so full of delights that viewed in itself it is nothing else than blessedness and delight; for the divine good that flows forth from the lord's divine love is what makes heaven in general and in particular with everyone there, and the divine love is a longing for the salvation of all and the happiness of all from inmosts and in fullness. thus whether you say heaven or heavenly joy it is the same thing. . the delights of heaven are both ineffable and innumerable; but he that is in the mere delight of the body or of the flesh can have no knowledge of or belief in a single one of these innumerable delights; for his interiors, as has just been said, look away from heaven towards the world, thus backwards. for he that is wholly in the delight of the body or of the flesh, or what is the same, in the love of self and of the world, has no sense of delight except in honor, in gain, and in the pleasures of the body and the senses; and these so extinguish and suffocate the interior delights that belong to heaven as to destroy all belief in them; consequently he would be greatly astonished if he were told that when the delights of honor and of gain are set aside other delights are given, and still more if he were told that the delights of heaven that take the place of these are innumerable, and are such as cannot be compared with the delights of the body and the flesh, which are chiefly the delights of honor and of gain. all this makes clear why it is not known what heavenly joy is. . one can see how great the delight of heaven must be from the fact that it is the delight of everyone in heaven to share his delights and blessings with others; and as such is the character of all that are in the heavens it is clear how immeasurable is the delight of heaven. it has been shown above (n. ), that in the heavens there is a sharing of all with each and of each with all. such sharing goes forth from the two loves of heaven, which are, as has been said, love to the lord and love towards the neighbor; and to share their delights is the very nature of these loves. love to the lord is such because the lord's love is a love of sharing everything it has with all, since it wills the happiness of all. there is a like love in everyone of those who love the lord, because the lord is in them; and from this comes the mutual sharing of the delights of angels with one another. love towards the neighbor is of such a nature, as will be seen in what follows. all this shows that it is the nature of these loves to share their delights. it is otherwise with the loves of self and of the world. the love of self takes away from others and robs others of all delight, and directs it to itself, for it wishes well to itself alone; while the love of the world wishes to have as its own what belongs to the neighbor. therefore these loves are destructive of the delights of others; or if there is any disposition to share, it is for the sake of themselves and not for the sake of others. thus in respect to others it is the nature of those loves not to share but to take away, except so far as the delights of others have some relation to self. that the loves of self and of the world, when they rule, are such i have often been permitted to perceive by living experience. whenever the spirits that were in these loves during their life as men in the world drew near, my delight receded and vanished; and i was told that at the mere approach of such to any heavenly society the delight of those in the society diminished just in the degree of their proximity; and what is wonderful, the evil spirits are then in their delight. all this indicates the state of the spirit of such a man while he is in the body, since it is the same as it is after it is separated from the body, namely, that it longs for or lusts after the delights or goods of another, and finds delight so far as it secures them. all this makes clear that the loves of self and of the world tend to destroy the joys of heaven, and are thus direct opposites of heavenly loves, which desire to share. . but it must be understood that the delight of those who are in the loves of self and of the world, when they draw near to any heavenly society, is the delight of their lust, and thus is directly opposite to the delight of heaven. and such enter into this delight of their lust in consequence of their taking away and dispelling heavenly delight in those that are in such delight. when the heavenly delight is not taken away or dispelled it is different, for they are then unable to draw near; for so far as they draw near they bring upon themselves anguish and pain; and for this reason they do not often venture to come near. this also i have been permitted to learn by repeated experience, something of which i would like to add. [ ] spirits who go from this world into the other life desire more than any thing else to get into heaven. nearly all seek to enter, supposing that heaven consists solely in being admitted and received. because of this desire they are brought to some society of the lowest heaven. but as soon as those who are in the love of self and of the world draw near the first threshold of that heaven they begin to be distressed and so tortured inwardly as to feel hell rather than heaven to be in them; and in consequence they cast themselves down headlong therefrom, and do not rest until they come into the hells among their like. [ ] it has also frequently occurred that such spirits have wished to know what heavenly joy is, and having heard that it is in the interiors of angels, they have wished to share in it. this therefore was granted; for whatever a spirit who is not yet in heaven or hell wishes is granted if it will benefit him. but as soon as that joy was communicated they began to be so tortured as not to know how to twist or turn because of the pain. i saw them thrust their heads down to their feet and cast themselves upon the ground, and there writhe into coils like serpents, and this in consequence of their interior agony. such was the effect produced by heavenly delight upon those who are in the delights of the love of self and of the world; and for the reason that these loves are directly opposite to heavenly loves, and when opposite acts against opposite such pain results. and since heavenly delight enters by an inward way and flows into the contrary delight, the interiors which are in the contrary delight are twisted backwards, thus into the opposite direction, and the result is such tortures. [ ] they are opposite for the reason given above, that love to the lord and love to the neighbor wish to share with others all that is their own, for this is their delight, while the loves of self and of the world wish to take away from others what they have, and take it to themselves; and just to the extent that they are able to do this they are in their delight. from this, too, one can see what it is that separates hell from heaven; for all that are in hell were, while they were living in the world, in the mere delights of the body and of the flesh from the love of self and of the world; while all that are in the heavens were, while they lived in the world, in the delights of the soul and spirit from love to the lord and love to the neighbor; and as these are opposite loves, so the hells and the heavens are entirely separated, and indeed so separated that a spirit in hell does not venture even to put forth a finger from it or raise the crown of his head, for if he does this in the least he is racked with pain and tormented. this, too, i have frequently seen. . one who is in the love of self and love of the world perceives while he lives in the body a sense of delight from these loves and also in the particular pleasures derived from these loves. but one who is in love to god and in love towards the neighbor does not perceive while he lives in the body any distinct sense of delight from these loves or from the good affections derived from them, but only a blessedness that is hardly perceptible, because it is hidden away in his interiors and veiled by the exteriors pertaining to the body and dulled by the cares of the world. but after death these states are entirely changed. the delights of love of self and of the world are then turned into what is painful and direful, because into such things as are called infernal fire, and by turns into things defiled and filthy corresponding to their unclean pleasures, and these, wonderful to tell, are then delightful to them. but the obscure delight and almost imperceptible blessedness of those that had been while in the world in love to god and in love to the neighbor are then turned into the delight of heaven, and become in every way perceived and felt, for the blessedness that lay hidden and unrecognized in their interiors while they lived in the world is then revealed and brought forth into evident sensation, because such had been the delight of their spirit, and they are then in the spirit. . in uses all the delights of heaven are brought together and are present, because uses are the goods of love and charity in which angels are; therefore everyone has delights that are in accord with his uses, and in the degree of his affection for use. that all the delights of heaven are delights of use can be seen by a comparison with the five bodily senses of man. there is given to each sense a delight in accordance with its use; to the sight, the hearing, the smell, the taste, and the touch, each its own delight; to the sight a delight from beauty and from forms, to the hearing from harmonious sounds, to the smell from pleasing odors, to taste from fine flavors. these uses which the senses severally perform are known to those who study them, and more fully to those who are acquainted with correspondences. sight has such a delight because of the use it performs to the understanding, which is the inner sight; the hearing has such a delight because of the use it performs both to the understanding and to the will through giving attention; the smell has such a delight because of the use it performs to the brain, and also to the lungs; the taste has such a delight because of the use it performs to the stomach, and thus to the whole body by nourishing it. the delight of marriage, which is a purer and more exquisite delight of touch, transcends all the rest because of its use, which is the procreation of the human race and thereby of angels of heaven. these delights are in these sensories by an influx of heaven, where every delight pertains to use and is in accordance with use. . there were some spirits who believed from an opinion adopted in the world that heavenly happiness consists in an idle life in which they would be served by others; but they were told that happiness never consists in abstaining from work and getting satisfaction therefrom. this would mean everyone's desiring the happiness of others for himself, and what everyone wished for no one would have. such a life would be an idle not an active life, and would stupefy all the powers of life; and everyone ought to know that without activity of life there can be no happiness of life, and that rest from this activity should be only for the sake of recreation, that one may return with more vigor to the activity of his life. they were then shown by many evidences that angelic life consists in performing the good works of charity, which are uses, and that the angels find all their happiness in use, from use, and in accordance with use. to those that held the opinion that heavenly joy consists in living an idle life and drawing breaths of eternal joy in idleness, a perception was given of what such a life is, that they might become ashamed of the idea; and they saw that such a life is extremely sad, and that all joy thus perishing they would in a little while feel only loathing and disgust for it. . there were some spirits who thought themselves better instructed than others, and who said that they had believed in the world that heavenly joy would consist solely in praising and giving glory to god, and that this would be an active life. but these were told that praising and giving glory to god is not a proper active life, also that god has no need of praises and glorification, but it is his will that they should perform uses, and thus the good works that are called goods of charity. but they were unable to associate with goods of charity any idea of heavenly joy, but only of servitude, although the angels testified that this joy is most free because it comes from an interior affection and is conjoined with ineffable delight. . almost all who enter the other life think that hell is the same to everyone, and heaven the same; and yet in both there are infinite varieties and diversities, and in no case is hell or heaven wholly the same to one as to another; as it is impossible that any one man, spirit or angel should ever be wholly like another even as to the face. at my mere thought of two being just alike or equal the angels expressed horror, saying that everyone thing is formed out of the harmonious concurrence of many things, and that the one thing is such as that concurrence is; and that it is thus that a whole society in heaven becomes a one, and that all the societies of heaven together become a one, and this from the lord alone by means of love.{ } uses in the heavens are likewise in all variety and diversity, and in no case is the use of one wholly the same as and identical with the use of another; so neither is the happiness of one the same as and identical with the happiness of another. furthermore, the delights of each use are innumerable, and these innumerable delights are likewise various, and yet conjoined in such order that they mutually regard each other, like the uses of each member, organ, and viscus, in the body, and still more like the uses of each vessel and fiber in each member, organ and viscus; each and all of which are so affiliated as to have regard to another's good in their own good, and thus each in all, and all in each. from this universal and individual aspect they act as one. {footnote } one thing consists of various things, and receives thereby its form and quality and perfection in accordance with the quality of the harmony and concurrence (n. , , ). there is an infinite variety and never any one thing the same as another (n. , ). it is the same in the heavens (n. , , , , , ). in consequence all the societies in the heavens and all the angels in a society are distinct from each other because they are in different goods and uses (n. , , , , , , , , , ). the lord's divine love arranges all into a heavenly form, and so conjoins them that they are as a single man (n. , , ). . i have talked at times with spirits that had recently come from the world about the state of eternal life, saying that it is important to know who the lord of the kingdom is, and what kind and what form of government it has. as nothing is more important for those entering another kingdom in the world than to know who and what the king is, and what the government is, and other particulars in regard to the kingdom, so is it of still greater consequence in regard to this kingdom in which they are to live to eternity. therefore they should know that it is the lord who governs both heaven and the universe, for he who governs the one governs the other; thus that the kingdom in which they now are is the lord's; and that the laws of this kingdom are eternal truths, all of which rest upon the law that the lord must be loved above all things and the neighbor as themselves; and even more than this, if they would be like the angels they must love the neighbor more than themselves. on hearing this they could make no reply, for the reason that although they had heard in the life of the body something like this they had not believed it, wondering how there could be such love in heaven, and how it could be possible for any one to love his neighbor more than himself. but they were told that every good increases immeasurably in the other life, and that while they cannot go further in the life of the body than to love the neighbor as themselves, because they are immersed in what concerns the body, yet when this is set aside their love becomes more pure, and finally becomes angelic, which is to love the neighbor more than themselves. for in the heavens there is joy in doing good to another, but no joy in doing good to self unless with a view to its becoming another's, and thus for another's sake. this is loving the neighbor more than oneself. they were told that the possibility of such a love is shown in the world in the marriage love of some who have suffered death to protect a consort from injury, in the love of parents for their children, as in a mother's preferring to go hungry rather than see her child go hungry; in sincere friendship, in which one friend will expose himself to danger for another; and even in polite and pretended friendship that wishes to emulate sincere friendship, in offering the better things to those to whom it professes to wish well, and bearing such good will on the lips though not in the heart; finally, in the nature of love, which is such that its joy is to serve others, not for its own sake but for theirs. but all this was incomprehensible to those who loved themselves more than others, and in the life of the body had been greedy of gain; most of all to the avaricious. . there was one who in the life of the body had exercised power over others, and who had retained in the other life the desire to rule; but he was told that he was now in another kingdom, which is eternal, and that his rule on earth had perished, and that he was now where no one is esteemed except in accordance with his goodness and truth, and that measure of the lord's mercy which he enjoyed by virtue of his life in the world; also that the same is true in this kingdom as on the earth, where men are esteemed for their wealth and for their favor with the prince, wealth here being good and truth, and favor with the prince the mercy bestowed on man by the lord in accordance with his life in the world. any wish to rule otherwise would make him a rebel, since he is in another's kingdom. on hearing these things he was ashamed. . i have talked with spirits who believed heaven and heavenly joy to consist in their being great; but such were told that in heaven he that is least is greatest, since he is called least who has, and wishes to have, no power or wisdom from himself, but only from the lord, he that is least in that sense having the greatest happiness, and as he has the greatest happiness, it follows that he is greatest; for he has thereby from the lord all power and excels all in wisdom. what is it to be the greatest unless to be the most happy? for to be the most happy is what the powerful seek through power and the rich through riches. it was further said that heaven does not consist in a desire to be least for the purpose of being greatest, for that would be aspiring and longing to be the greatest; but it consists in desiring from the heart the good of others more than one's own, and in serving others with a view to their happiness, not with recompense as an end, but from love. . heavenly joy itself, such as it is in its essence, cannot be described, because it is in the inmost of the life of angels and therefrom in everything of their thought and affection, and from this in every particular of their speech and action. it is as if the interiors were fully opened and unloosed to receive delight and blessedness, which are distributed to every least fiber and thus through the whole. thus the perception and sensation of this joy is so great as to be beyond description, for that which starts from the inmosts flows into every particular derived from the inmosts, propagating itself away with increase towards the exteriors. good spirits who are not yet in that joy, because not yet raised up into heaven, when they perceive a sense of that joy from an angel from the sphere of his love, are filled with such delight that they come as it were into a delicious trance. this sometimes happens with those who desire to know what heavenly joy is. . when certain spirits wished to know what heavenly joy is they were allowed to feel it to such a degree that they could no longer bear it; and yet it was not angelic joy; it was scarcely in the least degree angelic, as i was permitted to perceive by sharing it, but was so slight as to be almost frigid; nevertheless they called it most heavenly, because to them it was an inmost joy. from this it was evident, not only that there are degrees of the joys of heaven, but also that the inmost joy of one scarcely reaches to the outmost or middle joy of another; also that when any one receives his own inmost joy he is in his heavenly joy, and cannot endure what is still more interior, for such a joy becomes painful to him. . certain spirits, not evil, sinking into a quiescence like sleep, were taken up into heaven in respect to the interiors of their minds; for before their interiors are opened spirits can be taken up into heaven and be taught about the happiness of those there. i saw them in the quiescent state for about half an hour, and afterwards they relapsed into their exteriors in which they were before, and also into a recollection of what they had seen. they said that they had been among the angels in heaven, and had there seen and perceived amazing things, all of which were resplendent as if made of gold, silver, and precious stones, in exquisite forms and in wonderful variety; also that angels are not delighted with the outward things themselves, but with the things they represented, which were divine, ineffable, and of infinite wisdom, and that these were their joy; with innumerable other things that could not be described in human language even as to a ten-thousandth part, or fall into ideas which partake of any thing material. . scarcely any who enter the other life know what heavenly blessedness and happiness are, because they do not know what internal joy is, deriving their perception of it solely from bodily and worldly gladness and joy; and in consequence what they are ignorant of they suppose to be nothing, when in fact bodily and worldly joys are of no account in comparison. in order, therefore, that the well disposed, who do not know what heavenly joy is, may know and realize what it is, they are taken first to paradisal scenes that transcend every conception of the imagination. they then think that they have come into the heavenly paradise; but they are taught that this is not true heavenly happiness; and they are permitted to realize such interior states of joy as are perceptible to their inmost. they are then brought into a state of peace even to their inmost, when they confess that nothing of it is in the least expressible or conceivable. finally they are brought into a state of innocence even to their inmost sense. thus they are permitted to learn what true spiritual and heavenly good is. . but that i might learn the nature of heaven and heavenly joy i have frequently and for a long time been permitted by the lord to perceive the delights of heavenly joys; but while i have been enabled to know by living experience what they are i am not at all able to describe them. nevertheless, that some idea of them may be formed, something shall be said about them. heavenly joy is an affection of innumerable delights and joys, which together present something general, and in this general, that is, this general affection, are harmonies of innumerable affections that come to perception obscurely, and not distinctly, because the perception is most general. nevertheless i was permitted to perceive that there are innumerable things in it, in such order as cannot be at all described, those innumerable things being such as flow from the order of heaven. the order in the particulars of the affection even to the least, is such that these particulars are presented and perceived only as a most general whole, in accordance with the capacity of him who is the subject. in a word, each general affection contains infinite affections arranged in a most orderly form, with nothing therein that is not alive, and that does not affect all of them from the inmosts; for heavenly joys go forth from inmosts. i perceived also that the joy and ecstasy came as from the heart, diffusing most softly through all the inmost fibers, and from these into the bundles of fibers, with such an inmost sense of delight that the fiber seemed to be nothing but joy and ecstasy, and everything perceptive and sensitive therefrom seemed in like manner to be alive with happiness. compared with these joys the joy of bodily pleasures is like a gross and pungent dust compared with a pure and most gentle aura. i have noticed that when i wished to transfer all my delight to another, a more interior and fuller delight continually flowed in in its place, and the more i wished this, the more flowed in; and this was perceived to be from the lord. . those that are in heaven are continually advancing towards the spring of life, with a greater advance towards a more joyful and happy spring the more thousands of years they live; and this to eternity, with increase according to the growth and degree of their love, charity, and faith. women who have died old and worn out with age, if they have lived in faith in the lord, in charity to the neighbor, and in happy marriage love with a husband, advance with the succession of years more and more into the flower of youth and early womanhood, and into a beauty that transcends every conception of any such beauty as is seen on the earth. goodness and charity are what give this form and thus manifest their own likeness, causing the joy and beauty of charity to shine forth from every least particular of the face, and causing them to be the very forms of charity. some who beheld this were struck with amazement. the form of charity that is seen in a living way in heaven, is such that it is charity itself that both forms and is formed; and this in such a manner that the whole angel is a charity, as it were, especially the face; and this is both clearly seen and felt. when this form is beheld it is beauty unspeakable, affecting with charity the very inmost life of the mind. in a word, to grow old in heaven is to grow young. such forms or such beauties do those become in the other life who have lived in love to the lord and in charity towards the neighbor. all angels are such forms in endless variety; and of these heaven is constituted. . xliii. the immensity of heaven. the immensity of the heaven of the lord is evident from many things that have been said and shown in the foregoing chapters, especially from this, that heaven is from the human race (n. - ), both from those born within the church and from those born out of it (n. - ); thus it consists of all from the beginning of this earth that have lived a good life. how great a multitude of men there is in this entire world any one who knows anything about the divisions, the regions, and kingdoms of the earth may conclude. whoever goes into a calculation will find that several thousands of men die every day, that is, some myriads of millions every year; and this from the earliest times, since which several thousands of years have elapsed. all of these after death have gone into the other world, which is called the spiritual world, and they are constantly going into it. but how many of these have become or are becoming angels of heaven cannot be told. this i have been told, that in ancient times the number was very great, because men then thought more interiorly and spiritually, and from such thought were in heavenly affection; but in the following ages not so many, because in the process of time man became more external and began to think more naturally, and from such thought to be in earthly affection. all of this shows how great heaven is even from the inhabitants of this earth alone. . the immensity of the heaven of the lord is shown also by this, that all children, whether born within the church or out of it, are adopted by the lord and become angels; and the number of these amounts to a fourth or fifth part of the whole human race on the earth. that every child, wherever born, whether within the church or out of it, whether of pious or impious parents, is received by the lord when it dies, and is brought up in heaven, and is taught and imbued with affections for good, and through these with knowledges of truth, in accordance with divine order, and as he becomes perfected in intelligence and wisdom is brought into heaven and becomes an angel, can be seen above (n. - ). from all this a conclusion may be formed of the multitude of angels of heaven, derived from this source alone, from the first creation to the present time. . again, how immense the heaven of the lord is can be seen from this, that all the planets visible to the eye in our solar system are earths, and moreover, that in the whole universe there are innumerable earths, all of them full of inhabitants. these have been treated of particularly in a small work on those earths from which i will quote the following passage: it is fully known in the other life that there are many earths inhabited by men from which spirits and angels come; for everyone there who desires from a love of truth and of use to do so is permitted to talk with spirits of other earths, and thus be assured that there is a plurality of worlds, and learn that the human race is not from one earth alone, but from innumerable earths. i have frequently talked about this with spirits of our earth, and was told that any intelligent person ought to know from many things that he does know that there are many earths inhabited by men; for it may be reasonably inferred that immense bodies like the planets, some of which exceed this earth in magnitude, are not empty masses created merely to be borne through space and to be carried around the sun, and to shine with their scanty light for the benefit of a single earth, but must have a more important use. he that believes, as everyone must believe, that the divine created the universe for no other end than that the human race might exist, and heaven therefrom, for the human race is a seminary of heaven, must needs believe that wherever there is an earth there are men. that the planets visible to us because they are within the limits of our solar system are earths is evident from their being bodies of earthy matters, which is known from their reflecting the sun's light, and from their not appearing, when viewed through telescopes, like stars, sparkling with flame, but like earths varied with darker portions; also from their passing like our earth around the sun and following in the path of the zodiac, thus making years and seasons of the year, spring, summer, autumn, and winter, also revolving on their axes like our earth, making days and times of the day, morning, mid-day, evening, and night; also from some of them having moons, called satellites, that revolve around their earth at stated times, as the moon does around ours; while the planet saturn, being at a greater distance from the sun, has also a large luminous belt which gives much light, though reflected, to that earth. who that knows all this and thinks rationally can ever say that the planets are empty bodies? moreover, i have said to spirits that man might believe that there are more earths in the universe than one, from the fact that the starry heaven is so immense, and the stars there so innumerable, and each of them in its place or in its system a sun, resembling our sun, although of a varying magnitude. any one who duly weighs the subject must conclude that such an immense whole must needs be a means to an end that is the final end of creation; and this end is a heavenly kingdom in which the divine may dwell with angels and men. for the visible universe or the heaven illumined by stars so numberless, which are so many suns, is simply a means for the existence of earths with men upon them from whom the heavenly kingdom is derived. from all this a rational man must needs conclude that so immense a means to so great an end could not have been provided merely for the human race on a single earth. what would this be for a divine that is infinite, to which thousands and even myriads of earths, all of them full of inhabitants, would be little and scarcely anything? there are spirits whose sole pursuit is the acquisition of knowledges, because their delight is in this alone; and for this reason they are permitted to wander about, and even to pass out of our solar system into others, in acquiring knowledge. these spirits, who are from the planet mercury, have told me that there are earths with men upon them not only in this solar system but also beyond it in the starry heaven in immense numbers. it was calculated that with a million earths in the universe, and on each earth three hundred millions of men, and two hundred generations in six thousand years, and a space of three cubic ells allowed to each man or spirit, the total number of so many men or spirits would not fill the space of this earth, and scarcely more than the space of one of the satellites about one of the planets--a space in the universe so small as to be almost invisible, since a satellite can scarcely be seen by the naked eye. what is this for the creator of the universe, to whom it would not be sufficient if the whole universe were filled, since he is infinite? i have talked with angels about this, and they said that they had a similar idea of the fewness of the human race compared with the infinity of the creator, although their thought is from states, not from spaces, and that in their thought earths amounting to as many myriads as could possibly be conceived of would still be nothing at all to the lord. the earths in the universe, with their inhabitants, and the spirits and angels from them, are treated of in the above mentioned work. what is there related has been revealed and shown to me to the intent that it may be known that the heaven of the lord is immense, and that it is all from the human race; also that our lord is every where acknowledged as the god of heaven and earth. . again, the immensity of the heaven of the lord is shown in this, that heaven in its entire complex reflects a single man, and corresponds to all things and each thing in man, and that this correspondence can never be filled out, since it is a correspondence not only with each of the members, organs, and viscera of the body in general, but also with all and each of the little viscera and little organs contained in these in every minutest particular, and even with each vessel and fiber; and not only with these but also with the organic substances that receive interiorly the influx of heaven, from which come man's interior activities that are serviceable to the operations of his mind; since everything that exists interiorly in man exists in forms which are substances, for anything that does not exist in a substance as its subject is nothing. there is a correspondence of all these things with heaven, as can be seen from the chapter treating of the correspondence of all things of heaven with all things of man (n. - ). this correspondence can never be filled out because the more numerous the angelic affiliations are that correspond to each member the more perfect heaven becomes; for every perfection in the heavens increases with increase of number; and this for the reason that all there have the same end, and look with one accord to that end. that end is the common good; and when that reigns there is, from the common good, good to each individual, and from the good of each individual there is good to the whole community. this is so for the reason that the lord turns all in heaven to himself (see above, n. ), and thereby makes them to be one in himself. that the unanimity and concord of many, especially from such an origin and held together by such a bond, produces perfection, everyone with a reason at all enlightened can see clearly. . i have also been permitted to see the extent of the inhabited and also of the uninhabited heaven; and the extent of the uninhabited heaven was seen to be so great that it could not be filled to eternity even if there were many myriads of earths, and as great a multitude of men on each earth as on ours. (on this also see the treatise on the earths in the universe, n. .) . that heaven is not immense, but it is of limited extent, is a conclusion that some have derived from certain passages in the word understood according to the sense of its letter; for example, where it is said that only the poor are received into heaven, or only the elect, or only those within the church, and not those outside of it, or only those for whom the lord intercedes; that heaven is closed when it is filled, and that this time is predetermined. but such are unaware that heaven is never closed, and that there is no time predetermined, or any limit of number; and that those are called the "elect" who are in a life of good and truth;{ } and those are called "poor" who are lacking in knowledges of good and truth and yet desire them; and such from that desire are also called hungry.{ } those that have conceived an idea of the small extent of heaven from the word not understood believe it to be in one place, where all are gathered together; when, in fact, heaven consists of innumerable societies (see above, n. - ). such also have no other idea than that heaven is granted to everyone from mercy apart from means, and thus that there is admission and reception from mere favor; and they fail to understand that the lord from mercy leads everyone who accepts him, and that he accepts him who lives in accordance with the laws of divine order, which are the precepts of love and of faith, and that the mercy that is meant is to be thus led by the lord from infancy to the last period of life in the world and afterwards to eternity. let them know, therefore, that every man is born for heaven, and that he is received that receives heaven in himself in the world, and he that does not receive it is shut out. {footnote } those are the elect who are in a life of good and truth (n. , ). election and reception into heaven are not from mercy, as that term is understood, but are in accordance with the life (n. , ). there is no mercy of the lord apart from means, but only through means, that is, to those that live in accordance with his precepts; such the lord from his mercy leads continually in the world, and afterwards to eternity (n. , ). {footnote } by the "poor," in the word, those are meant who are spiritually poor, that is, who are ignorant of truth and yet wish to be taught (n. , , ). such are said to hunger and thirst, which is to desire knowledges of good and of truth, by which there is introduction into the church and into heaven (n. , ). . xliv. what the world of spirits is. the world of spirits is not heaven, nor is it hell, but it is the intermediate place or state between the two; for it is the place that man first enters after death; and from which after a suitable time he is either raised up into heaven or cast down into hell in accord with his life in the world. . the world of spirits is an intermediate place between heaven and hell and also an intermediate state of the man after death. it has been shown to me not only that it is an intermediate place, having the hells below it and the heavens above it, but also that it is in an intermediate state, since so long as man is in it he is not yet either in heaven or in hell. the state of heaven in man is the conjunction of good and truth in him; and the state of hell is the conjunction of evil and falsity in him. whenever good in a man-spirit is conjoined to truth he comes into heaven, because that conjunction, as just said, is heaven in him; but whenever evil in a man-spirit is conjoined with falsity he comes into hell, because that conjunction is hell in him. that conjunction is effected in the world of spirits, man then being in an intermediate state. it is the same thing whether you say the conjunction of the understanding and the will, or the conjunction of good and truth. . let something first be said about the conjunction of the understanding and the will, and its being the same thing as the conjunction of good and truth, that being the conjunction that is effected in the world of spirits. man has an understanding and a will. the understanding receives truths and is formed out of them, and the will receives goods and is formed out of them; therefore whatever a man understands and thinks from his understanding he calls true, and whatever a man wills and thinks from his will he calls good. from his understanding man can think and thus perceive both what is true and what is good; and yet he thinks what is true and good from the will only when he wills it and does it. when he wills it and from willing does it, it is both in his understanding and in his will, consequently in the man. for neither the understanding alone nor the will alone makes the man, but the understanding and will together; therefore whatever is in both is in the man, and is appropriated to him. that which is in the understanding alone is in man, and yet not really in him; it is only a thing of his memory, or a matter of knowledge in his memory about which he can think when in company with others and outside of himself, but not in himself; that is, about which he can speak and reason, and can simulate affections and gestures that are in accord with it. . this ability to think from the understanding and not at the same time from the will is provided that man may be capable of being reformed; for reformation is effected by means of truths, and truths pertain to the understanding, as just said. for in respect to his will man is born into every evil, and therefore of himself wills good to no one but himself; and one who wills good to himself alone delights in the misfortunes that befall another, especially when they tend to his own advantage; for his wish is to divert to himself the goods of all others, whether honors or riches, and so far as he succeeds in this he inwardly rejoices. to the end that this will of man may be corrected and reformed, an ability to understand truths, and an ability to subdue by means of truths the affections of evil that spring from the will, are given to man. this is why man has this ability to think truths with his understanding, and to speak them and do them. but until man is such that he wills truths and does them from himself, that is, from the heart, he is not able to think truths from his will. when he becomes such, whatever he thinks from his understanding belongs to his faith, and whatever he thinks from his will belongs to his love; and in consequence his faith and his love, like his understanding and his will, are conjoined in him. . to the extent, therefore, that the truths of the understanding and the goods of the will are conjoined, that is, to the extent that a man wills truths and does them from his will, he has heaven in himself, since the conjunction of good and truth, as just said, is heaven. and on the other hand, just to the extent that the falsities of the understanding and the evils of the will are conjoined man has hell in himself, since the conjunction of falsity and evil is hell. but so long as the truths of the understanding and the goods of the will are not conjoined man is in an intermediate state. at the present time nearly everyone is in such a state that he has some knowledge of truths, and from his knowledge and understanding gives some thought to them, and conforms to them either much or little or not at all, or acts contrary to them from a love of evil and consequent false belief. in order, therefore, that man may have in him either heaven or hell, he is first brought after death into the world of spirits, and there with those who are to be raised up into heaven good and truth are conjoined, and with those who are to be cast down into hell evil and falsity are conjoined. for neither in heaven nor in hell is any one permitted to have a divided mind, that is, to understand one thing and to will another; but everyone must understand what he wills, and will what he understands. therefore in heaven he who wills good understands truth, while in hell he who wills evil understands falsity. so in the intermediate state the falsities that the good have are put away, and truths that agree and harmonize with their good are given them; while the truths that the evil have are put away, and falsities that agree and harmonize with their evil are given them. this shows what the world of spirits is. . in the world of spirits there are vast numbers, because the first meeting of all is there, and all are there explored and prepared. the time of their stay in that world is not fixed; some merely enter it, and are soon either taken into heaven or are cast down into hell; some remain only a few weeks, some several years, but not more than thirty. these differences in the time they remain depend on the correspondence or lack of correspondence of man's interiors with his exteriors. how man is led in that world from one state into another and prepared shall now be told. . as soon as men after death enter the world of spirits the lord clearly discriminates between them; and the evil are at once attached to the infernal society in which they were, as to their ruling love while in the world; and the good are at once attached to the heavenly society in which they were as to their love, charity and faith while in the world. but although they are thus divided, all that have been friends and acquaintances in the life of the body, especially wives and husbands, and also brothers and sisters, meet and converse together whenever they so desire. i have seen a father talking with six sons, whom he recognized, and have seen many others with their relatives and friends; but having from their life in the world diverse dispositions, after a short time they separate. but those who have passed from the world of spirits into heaven or into hell, unless they have a like disposition from a like love, no longer see or know each other. the reason that they see each other in the world of spirits, but not in heaven or in hell, is that those who are in the world of spirits are brought into one state after another, like those they experienced in the life of the body; but afterwards all are brought into a permanent state in accord with their ruling love, and in that state one recognizes another only by similarity of love; for then similarity joins and dissimilarity disjoins (see above, n. - ). . as the world of spirits is an intermediate state between heaven and hell with man, so it is an intermediate place with the hells below and the heavens above. all the hells are shut towards that world, being open only through holes and clefts like those in rocks and through wide openings that are so guarded that no one can come out except by permission, which is granted in cases of urgent necessity (of which hereafter). heaven, too, is enclosed on all sides; and there is no passage open to any heavenly society except by a narrow way, the entrance to which is also guarded. these outlets and entrances are what are called in the word the gates and doors of hell and of heaven. . the world of spirits appears like a valley between mountains and rocks, with windings and elevations here and there. the gates and doors of the heavenly societies are visible to those only who are prepared for heaven; others cannot find them. there is one entrance from the world of spirits to each heavenly society, opening through a single path which branches out in its ascent into several. the gates and doors of the hells also are visible only to those who are about to enter, to whom they are then opened. when these are opened gloomy and seemingly sooty caverns are seen tending obliquely downwards to the abyss, where again there are many doors. through these caverns nauseous and fetid stenches exhale, which good spirits flee from because they abominate them, but evil spirits seek for them because they delight in them. for as everyone in the world has been delighted with his own evil, so after death he is delighted with the stench to which his evil corresponds. in this respect the evil may be likened to rapacious birds and beasts, like ravens, wolves, and swine, which fly or run to carrion or dunghills when they scent their stench. i heard a certain spirit crying out loudly as if from inward torture when struck by a breath flowing forth from heaven; but he became tranquil and glad as soon as a breath flowing forth from hell reached him. . with every man there are two gates; one that leads to hell and that is open to evils and their falsities; while the other leads to heaven and is open to goods and their truths. those that are in evil and its falsity have the gate to hell opened in them, and only through chinks from above does something of light from heaven flow into them, and by that inflowing they are able to think, to reason, and to speak; but the gate to heaven is opened in those that are in good and its truth. for there are two ways that lead to the rational mind of man; a higher or internal way through which good and truth from the lord enter, and a lower or external way through which evil and falsity enter from hell. the rational mind itself is at the middle point to which the ways tend. consequently, so far as light from heaven is admitted man is rational; but so far as it is not admitted he is not rational, however rational he may seem to himself to be. this has been said to make known the nature of the correspondence of man with heaven and with hell. while man's rational mind is being formed it corresponds to the world of spirits, what is above it corresponding to heaven and what is below to hell. with those preparing for heaven the regions above the rational mind are opened, but those below are closed to the influx of evil and falsity; while with those preparing for hell the parts below it are opened, and the parts above it are closed to the influx of good and truth. thus the latter can look only to what is below themselves, that is, to hell; while the former can look only to what is above themselves, that is, to heaven. to look above themselves is to look to the lord, because he is the common center to which all things of heaven look; while to look below themselves is to look backwards from the lord to the opposite center, to which all things of hell look and tend (see above, n. , ). . in the preceding pages whenever spirits are mentioned those that are in the world of spirits are meant; but when angels are mentioned those that are in heaven are meant. . xlv. in respect to his interiors every man is a spirit. whoever duly considers the subject can see that as the body is material it is not the body that thinks, but the soul, which is spiritual. the soul of man, upon the immortality of which many have written, is his spirit, for this as to everything belonging to it is immortal. this also is what thinks in the body, for it is spiritual, and what is spiritual receives what is spiritual and lives spiritually, which is to think and to will. therefore, all rational life that appears in the body belongs to the soul, and nothing of it to the body; for the body, as just said, is material, and the material, which is the property of the body, is added to and apparently almost joined to the spirit, in order that the spirit of man may be able to live and perform uses in the natural world, all things of which are material and in themselves devoid of life. and as it is the spiritual only that lives and not the material, it can be seen that whatever lives in man is his spirit, and that the body merely serves it, just as what is instrumental serves a moving living force. an instrument is said indeed to act, to move, or to strike; but to believe that these are acts of the instrument, and not of him who acts, moves, or strikes by means of the instrument, is a fallacy. . as everything in the body that lives, and that acts and feels from that life, belongs exclusively to the spirit, and nothing of it to the body, it follows that the spirit is the man himself; or what is the same thing, that a man viewed in himself is a spirit possessing a like form; for whatever lives and feels in man belongs to his spirit and everything in man, from his head to the sole of his foot, lives and feels; and in consequence when the body is separated from its spirit, which is what is called dying, man continues to be a man and to live. i have heard from heaven that some who die, while they are lying upon the bier, before they are resuscitated, continue to think even in their cold body, and do not know that they are not still alive, except that they are unable to move a particle of matter belonging to the body. . unless man were a subject which is a substance that can serve a source and containant he would be unable to think and will. any thing that is supposed to exist apart from a substantial subject is nothing. this can be seen from the fact that a man is unable to see without an organ which is the subject of his sight, or to hear without an organ which is the subject of his hearing. apart from these organs, sight and hearing are nothing and have no existence. the same is true of thought, which is inner sight, and of perception, which is inner hearing; unless these were in substances and from substances which are organic forms and subjects, they would have no existence at all. all this shows that man's spirit as well as his body is in a form, and that it is in a human form, and enjoys sensories and senses when separated from the body the same as when it was in it, and that all the life of the eye and all the life of the ear, in a word, all the life of sense that man has, belongs not to his body but to his spirit, which dwells in these organs and in their minutest particulars. this is why spirits see, hear, and feel, as well as men. but when the spirit has been loosed from the body, these senses are exercised in the spiritual world, not in the natural world. the natural sensation that the spirit had when it was in the body it had by means of the material part that was added to it; but it then had also spiritual sensations in its thinking and willing. . all this has been said to convince the rational man that viewed in himself man is a spirit, and that the corporeal part that is added to the spirit to enable it to perform its functions in the natural and material world is not the man, but only an instrument of his spirit. but evidences from experience are preferable, because there are many that fail to comprehend rational deductions; and those that have established themselves in the opposite view turn such deductions into grounds of doubt by means of reasonings from the fallacies of the senses. those that have established themselves in the opposite view are accustomed to think that beasts likewise have life and sensations and thus have a spiritual part, the same as man has, and yet that part dies with the body. but the spiritual of beasts is not the same as the spiritual of man is; for man has what beasts have not, an inmost, into which the divine flows, raising man up to itself, and thereby conjoining man to itself. because of this, man, in contrast with beasts, has the ability to think about god and about the divine things of heaven and the church, and to love god from these and in these, and thus be conjoined to him; and whatever can be conjoined to the divine cannot be dissipated, but whatever cannot be conjoined is dissipated. the inmost that man has, in contrast with beasts, has been treated of above (n. ), and what was there said will here be repeated, since it is important to have the fallacies dispelled that have been engendered in the minds of many who from lack of knowledge and trained intellect are unable to form rational conclusions on the subject. the words are these: i will mention a certain arcanum respecting the angels of the three heavens, which has not hitherto come into any one's mind, because degrees have not been understood. in every angel and in every man there is an inmost or highest degree, or an inmost or highest something, into which the divine of the lord first or most directly flows, and from which it disposes the other interiors in him that succeed in accordance with the degrees of order. this inmost or highest degree may be called the entrance of the lord to the angel or man, and his veriest dwelling-place in them. it is by virtue of this inmost or highest that a man is a man, and distinguished from the animals, which do not have it. from this it is that man, unlike the animals, is capable, in respect to all his interiors which pertain to his mind and disposition, of being raised up by the lord to himself, of believing in the lord, of being moved by love to the lord, and thereby beholding him, and of receiving intelligence and wisdom, and speaking from reason. also it is by virtue of this that he lives to eternity. but what is arranged and provided by the lord in this inmost does not distinctly fall into the perception of any angel, because it is above his thought and transcends his wisdom. . that in respect to his interiors man is a spirit i have been permitted to learn from much experience, which, to employ a common saying, would fill volumes if i were to describe it all. i have talked with spirits as a spirit, and i have talked with them as a man in the body; and when i talked with them as a spirit they knew no otherwise than that i myself was a spirit and in a human form as they were. thus did my interiors appear before them, for when talking with them as a spirit my material body was not seen. . that in respect to his interiors man is a spirit can be seen from the fact that after his separation from the body, which takes place when he dies, man goes on living as a man just as before. that i might be convinced of this i have been permitted to talk with nearly everyone i had ever known in their life in the body; with some for hours, with some for weeks and months, and with some for years, and this chiefly that i might be sure of it and might testify to it. . to this may be added that every man in respect to his spirit, even while he is living in the body, is in some society with spirits, although he does not know it; if a good man he is by means of spirits in some angelic society; if an evil man in some infernal society; and after death he comes into that same society. this has been often told and shown to those who after death have come among spirits. man, to be sure, does not appear in that society as a spirit while he is living in the world, for the reason that he then thinks naturally; but when one is thinking abstractly from the body, because he is then in the spirit, he sometimes appears in his society; and when seen he is easily distinguished from the spirits there, for he goes about meditating and in silence, not looking at others, and apparently not seeing them; and as soon as any spirit speaks to him he vanishes. . to make clear that man in respect to his interiors is a spirit i will relate from experience what happens when man is withdrawn from the body, and what it is to be carried away by the spirit to another place. . first, as to withdrawal from the body, it happens thus. man is brought into a certain state that is midway between sleeping and waking, and when in that state he seems to himself to be wide awake; all the senses are as perfectly awake as in the completest bodily wakefulness, not only the sight and the hearing, but what is wonderful, the sense of touch also, which is then more exquisite than is ever possible when the body is awake. in this state spirits and angels have been seen to the very life, and have been heard, and what is wonderful, have been touched, with almost nothing of the body intervening. this is the state that is called being withdrawn from the body, and not knowing whether one is in the body or out of it. i have been admitted into this state only three or four times, that i might learn what it is, and might know that spirits and angels enjoy every sense, and that man does also in respect to his spirit when he is withdrawn from the body. . as to being carried away by the spirit to another place, i have been shown by living experience what it is, and how it is done, but only two or three times. i will relate a single instance. walking through the streets of a city and through fields, talking at the same time with spirits, i knew no otherwise than that i was fully awake, and in possession of my usual sight. thus i walked on without going astray, and all the while with clear vision, seeing groves, rivers, palaces, houses, men, and other objects. but after walking thus for some hours, suddenly i saw with my bodily eyes, and noted that i was in another place. being greatly astonished i perceived that i had been in the same state as those who were said to have been led away by the spirit into another place. for in this state the distance, even though it be many miles, and the time, though it be many hours or days, are not thought of; neither is there any feeling of fatigue; and one is led unerringly through ways of which he himself is ignorant, even to the destined place. . but these two states of man, which are his states when he is in his interiors, or what is the same, when he is in the spirit, are extraordinary; but as they are states known about in the church, they were exhibited to me only that i might know what they are. but it has been granted to me now for many years to speak with spirits and to be with them as one of them, even in full wakefulness of the body. . that in respect to his interiors man is a spirit there are further evidences in what has been said and shown above (n. - ), where it is explained that heaven and hell are from the human race. . that man is a spirit in respect to his interiors means in respect to the things pertaining to his thought and will, for these are the interiors themselves that make man to be man, and such a man as he is in respect to these interiors. . xlvi. the resuscitation of man from the dead and his entrance into eternal life. when the body is no longer able to perform the bodily functions in the natural world that correspond to the spirit's thoughts and affections, which the spirit has from the spiritual world, man is said to die. this takes place when the respiration of the lungs and the beatings of the heart cease. but the man does not die; he is merely separated from the bodily part that was of use to him in the world, while the man himself continues to live. it is said that the man himself continues to live since man is not a man because of his body but because of his spirit, for it is the spirit that thinks in man, and thought with affection is what constitutes man. evidently, then, the death of man is merely his passing from one world into another. and this is why in the word in its internal sense "death" signifies resurrection and continuation of life.{ } {footnote } in the word "death" signifies resurrection, for when man dies his life still goes on (n. , , , , , ). . there is an inmost communication of the spirit with the breathing and with the beating of the heart, the spirit's thought communicating with the breathing, and its affection, which is of love, with the heart;{ } consequently when these two motions cease in the body there is at once a separation. these two motions, the respiration of the lungs and the beating of heart, are the very bond on the sundering of which the spirit is left to itself; and the body being then deprived of the life of its spirit grows cold and begins to decay. this inmost communication of the spirit of man is with the respiration and with the heart, because on these all vital motions depend, not only in general but in every particular.{ } {footnote } the heart corresponds to the will, thus to the affection which belongs to the love, while the respiration of the lungs corresponds to the understanding, thus to the thought (n. ). from this the "heart" in the word signifies the will and love (n. , , ). the "soul" signifies understanding, faith, and truth; therefore "from the soul and from the heart" signifies what is from the understanding, faith, and truth, and what is from the will, love, and good (n. , ). the correspondence of the heart and lungs with the greatest man, or heaven (n. - ). {footnote } the beating of the heart and the respiration of the lungs reign in the body throughout, and flow mutually into every part (n. , , ). . after the separation the spirit of man continues in the body for a short time, but only until the heart's action has wholly ceased, which happens variously in accord with the diseased condition that causes death, with some the motion of the heart continuing for some time, with others not so long. as soon as this motion ceases the man is resuscitated; but this is done by the lord alone. resuscitation means the drawing forth of the spirit from the body, and its introduction into the spiritual world; this is commonly called the resurrection. the spirit is not separated from the body until the motion of the heart has ceased, for the reason that the heart corresponds to the affection of love, which is the very life of man, for it is from love that everyone has vital heat;{ } consequently as long as this conjunction continues correspondence continues, and thereby the life of the spirit in the body. {footnote } love is the being [esse] of the life of man (n. ). love is spiritual heat, and therefore the very vital itself of man (n. , , , , - , , ). affection is a continuation of love (n. ). . how this resuscitation is effected has both been told to me and shown to me in living experience. the actual experience was granted to me that i might have a complete knowledge of the process. . as to the senses of the body i was brought into a state of insensibility, thus nearly into the state of the dying; but with the interior life and thought remaining unimpaired, in order that i might perceive and retain in the memory the things that happened to me, and that happen to those that are resuscitated from the dead. i perceived that the respiration of the body was almost wholly taken away; but the interior respiration of the spirit went on in connection with a slight and tacit respiration of the body. then at first a communication of the pulse of the heart with the celestial kingdom was established, because that kingdom corresponds to the heart in man.{ } angels from that kingdom were seen, some at a distance, and two sitting near my head. thus all my own affection was taken away although thought and perception continued. [ ] i was in this state for some hours. then the spirits that were around me withdrew, thinking that i was dead; and an aromatic odor like that of an embalmed body was perceived, for when the celestial angels are present everything pertaining to the corpse is perceived as aromatic, and when spirits perceive this they cannot approach; and in this way evil spirits are kept away from man's spirit when he is being introduced into eternal life. the angels seated at my head were silent, merely sharing their thoughts with mine; and when their thoughts are received the angels know that the spirit of man is in a state in which it can be drawn forth from the body. this sharing of their thoughts was effected by looking into my face, for in this way in heaven thoughts are shared. [ ] as my thought and perception continued, that i might know and remember how resuscitation is effected, i perceived the angels first tried to ascertain what my thought was, whether it was like the thought of those who are dying, which is usually about eternal life; also that they wished to keep my mind in that thought. afterwards i was told that the spirit of man is held in its last thought when the body expires, until it returns to the thoughts that are from its general or ruling affection in the world. especially was i permitted to see and feel that there was a pulling and drawing forth, as it were, of the interiors of my mind, thus of my spirit, from the body; and i was told that this is from the lord, and that the resurrection is thus effected. {footnote } the heart corresponds to the lord's celestial kingdom, the lungs to his spiritual kingdom (n. , , ). . the celestial angels who are with the one that is resuscitated do not withdraw from him, because they love everyone; but when the spirit comes into such a state that he can no longer be affiliated with celestial angels, he longs to get away from them. when this takes place angels from the lord's spiritual kingdom come, through whom is given the use of light; for before this he saw nothing, but merely thought. i was shown how this is done. the angels appeared to roll off, as it were, a coat from the left eye towards the bridge of the nose, that the eye might be opened and be enabled to see. this is only an appearance, but to the spirit it seemed to be really done. when the coat thus seems to have been rolled off there is a slight sense of light, but very dim, like what is seen through the eyelids on first awakening from sleep. to me this dim light took on a heavenly hue, but i was told afterwards that the color varies. then something is felt to be gently rolled off from the face, and when this is done spiritual thought is awakened. this rolling off from the face is also an appearance, which represents the spirit's passing from natural thought into spiritual thought. the angels are extremely careful that only such ideas as savor of love shall proceed from the one resuscitated. they now tell him that he is a spirit. when he has come into the enjoyment of light the spiritual angels render to the new spirit every service he can possibly desire in that state; and teach him about the things of the other life so far as he can comprehend them. but if he has no wish to be taught the spirit longs to get away from the company of the angels. nevertheless, the angels do not withdraw from him, but he separates himself from them; for the angels love everyone, and desire nothing so much as to render service, to teach, and to lead into heaven; this constitutes their highest delight. when the spirit has thus withdrawn he is received by good spirits, and as long as he continues in their company everything possible is done for him. but if he had lived such a life in the world as would prevent his enjoying the company of the good he longs to get away from the good, and this experience is repeated until he comes into association with such as are in entire harmony with his life in the world; and with such he finds his own life, and what is surprising, he then leads a life like that which he led in the world. . this opening state of man's life after death lasts only a few days. how he is afterwards led from one state to another, and finally either into heaven or into hell, will be told in what follows. this, too, i have been permitted to learn by much experience. . i have talked with some on the third day after their decease, when the process described above (n. , ) had been completed, especially with three whom i had known in the world, to whom i mentioned that arrangements were now being made for burying their bodies; i said, for burying them; on hearing which they were smitten with a kind of surprise, saying that they were alive, and that the thing that had served them in the world was what was being buried. afterwards they wondered greatly that they had not believed in such a life after death while they lived in the body, and especially that scarcely any within the church so believed. those that have not believed in the world in any life of the soul after the life of the body are greatly ashamed when they find themselves to be alive. but those that have confirmed themselves in that disbelief seek affiliation with their like, and are separated from those that have had faith. such are for the most part attached to some infernal society, because they have also denied the divine and have despised the truths of the church; for so far as any one confirms himself against the eternal life of his soul he confirms himself also against whatever pertains to heaven and the church. . xlvii. man after death is in a complete human form it has already been shown in several previous chapters that the form of the spirit of man is the human form, that is, that the spirit is a man even in form, especially where it is shown that every angel has a complete human form (n. - ) that in respect to his interiors every man is a spirit (n. - ); and that the angels in heaven are from the human race (n. - ). [ ] this can be seen still more clearly from the fact that it is by virtue of his spirit, and not by virtue of his body that man is a man, and that the bodily form is added to the spirit in accordance with the spirit's form, and not the reverse, for it is in accordance with its own form that the spirit is clothed with a body. consequently the spirit of man acts into every part of the body, even the minutest, insomuch that if any part is not actuated by the spirit, or the spirit is not active in it, it does not live. any one can see that this is true from this fact alone, that thought and will actuate all things and each thing of the body with such entire command that everything concurs, and any thing that does not concur is not a part of the body, but is cast out as something without life; and thought and will belong, not to the body, but to the spirit of man. [ ] a spirit that has been loosed from the body or the spirit in another man, is not visible in the human form to man, because the body's organ of sight, or its eye, so far as it sees in the world, is a material organ, and what is material can see only what is material, while what is spiritual sees what is spiritual. when, therefore, the material part of the eye becomes darkened and is deprived of its cooperation with the spiritual, the eye sees spirits in their own form, which is the human form, not only the spirits that are in the spiritual world, but also the spirit of another man while it is yet in its body. . the form of the spirit is the human form because man is created in respect to his spirit in the form of heaven, for all things of heaven and of the order of heaven are brought together in the things that constitute the mind of man;{ } and from this comes his capacity to receive intelligence and wisdom. whether you say the capacity to receive intelligence and wisdom or the capacity to receive heaven it is the same thing, as can be seen from what has been shown about the light and heat of heaven (n. - ); the form of heaven (n. - ); the wisdom of angels (n. - ); and in the chapter that the form of heaven as a whole and in part reflects a single man (n. - ); and this by virtue of the divine human of the lord, which is the source of heaven and its form (n. - ). {footnote } man is the being into whom are brought together all things of divine order, and by creation he is divine order in form (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , ). so far as a man lives in accordance with divine order he is seen in the other life as a man, complete and beautiful (n. , , ). . that which has now been said can be understood by the rational man, for he can see it from the connection of causes and from truths in their order; but it is not understood by a man who is not rational, and for several reasons, the chief of which is that he has no desire to understand it because it is opposed to the falsities that he has made his truths; and he that is unwilling to understand for this reason has closed to his rational faculty the way to heaven, although that way can still be opened whenever the will's resistance ceases (see above, n. ). that man is able to understand truths and be rational whenever he so wishes has been made clear to me by much experience. evil spirits that have become irrational in the world by rejecting the divine and the truths of the church, and confirming themselves against them, have frequently been turned by divine power towards those who were in the light of truth, and they then comprehended all things as the angels did, and acknowledged them to be true, and also that they comprehended them all. but the moment these spirits relapsed into themselves, and turned back to the love of their will, they had no comprehension of truths and affirmed the opposite. [ ] i have also heard certain dwellers in hell saying that they knew and perceived that which they did to be evil and that which they thought to be false; but that they were unable to resist the delight of their love, that is, their will, and that it is their will that drives their thought to see evil as good and falsity as truth. evidently, then, those that are in falsity from evil have the ability to understand and be rational, but have no wish to; and they have no wish to for the reason that they have loved falsities more than truths, because these agree with the evils in which they are. to love and to will is the same thing, for what a man wills he loves, and what he loves he wills. [ ] because the state of men is such that they are able to understand truths if they wish to, i have been permitted to confirm spiritual truths, which are truths of heaven and the church, even by reasonings, and this in order that the falsities by which the rational mind in many has been closed up may be dispersed by reasonings, and thus the eye may perhaps in some degree be opened; for to confirm spiritual goods by reasonings is permitted to all that are in truths. who could ever understand the word from the sense of its letter, unless he saw from an enlightened reason the truths it contains? is not this the source of so many heresies from the same word?{ } {footnote } the truths of doctrine of the church derived from the word must be the starting-point, and these must first be acknowledged, and afterwards it is permissible to consult knowledges (n. ). thus it is permissible for those that are in an affirmative state towards the truths of faith to confirm them rationally by knowledges, but it is not permissible for those who are in a negative state (n. , , , ). it is in accordance with divine order to enter rationally from spiritual truths into knowledges, which are natural truths, but not to enter from the latter into the former, because spiritual influx into natural things is possible, but not natural or physical influx into spiritual things (n. , , , , , , , , ). . that the spirit of man, when it has been loosed from the body, is still a man and in a like form, has been proved to me by the daily experience of many years; for i have seen such and have listened to them a thousand times, and have talked with them about this fact, that men in the world do not believe them to be men, and that those that do believe this are regarded by the learned as simple. spirits are grieved at heart that such ignorance still continues in the world, and above all within the church. [ ] but this belief they said had emanated chiefly from the learned, who had thought about the soul from ideas derived from bodily sense; and from such ideas the only conception they formed of the soul was as being mere thought; and when this is regarded apart from any subject as its containant and source it is merely a fleeting breath of pure ether that must needs be dissipated when the body dies. but as the church believes from the word in the immortality of the soul they are compelled to ascribe to it something vital, such as pertains to thought, but they deny to it any thing of sense, such as man possesses, until it has again been joined to the body. on this opinion the doctrine in regard to the resurrection is based, with the belief that the soul and body will be joined again at the time of the final judgment. for this reason when any one thinks about the soul in accordance with this doctrine and these conjectures, he has no conception that it is a spirit, and in a human form. and still further, scarcely any one at this day knows what the spiritual is, and still less that spiritual beings, as all spirits and angels are, have any human form. [ ] consequently, nearly all that go from this world are greatly surprised to find that they are alive, and are as much men as before, that they see, hear, and speak, and that their body enjoys the sense of touch as before, with no difference whatever (see above, n. ). and when they cease to be astonished at themselves they are astonished that the church should know nothing about this state of men after death, thus nothing about heaven or hell, when in fact all that have ever lived in the world are in the other life and live as men. and as they wondered also why this had not been disclosed to man by visions, being an essential of the faith of the church, they were told from heaven that although this might have been done, since nothing is easier when it is the lord's good pleasure, yet those that have confirmed themselves in the opposite falsities would not believe even if they themselves should behold it; also that there is danger in confirming any thing by visions when men are in falsities, for they would then first believe and afterwards deny, and thus would profane the truth itself, since to believe and afterwards deny is to profane; and those who profane truths are cast down into the lowest and most grievous of all the hells.{ } [ ] this danger is what is meant by the lord's words: he hath blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts lest they should see with their eyes, and understand with their heart, and should turn and i should heal them (john : ). and that those that are in falsities would not believe [even if visions were given] is meant by these words: abraham said to the rich man in hell, they have moses and the prophets, let them hear them. but he said, nay, father abraham, but if one came to them from the dead they would be converted. but abraham said to him, if they hear not moses and the prophets, neither will they believe though one should rise from the dead (luke : - ). {footnote } profanation is the mixing of good and evil and of truth and falsity in man (n. ). only those can profane truth and good, or the holy things of the word and the church, who first acknowledge them, and still more who live according to them, and who afterwards recede from the belief and reject it, and live for themselves and the world (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). if man after repentance of heart relapses to former evils he profanes, and his latter state is then worse than his former (n. ). those that have not acknowledged holy things, still less those that have no knowledge of them, cannot profane them (n. , , , , ). the heathen who are out of the church and do not have the word cannot profane it (n. , , , ). on this account interior truths were not disclosed to the jews, for if they had been disclosed and acknowledged that people would have profaned them (n. , , ). the lot of profaners in the other life is the worst of all, because not only the good and truth they have acknowledged, but also their evil and falsity remain, and as these cling together, the life is rent asunder (n. , , ). consequently most careful provision is made by the lord to prevent profanation (n. , ). . when the spirit of man first enters the world of spirits, which takes place shortly after his resuscitation, as described above, his face and his tone of voice resemble those he had in the world, because he is then in the state of his exteriors, and his interiors are not as yet uncovered. this is man's first state after death. but subsequently his face is changed, and becomes entirely different, resembling his ruling affection or ruling love, in conformity with which the interiors of his mind had been while he was in the world and his spirit while it was in the body. for the face of a man's spirit differs greatly from the face of his body. the face of his body is from his parents, but the face of his spirit is from his affection, and is an image of it. when the life of the spirit in the body is ended, and its exteriors are laid aside and its interiors disclosed, it comes into this affection. this is man's second state. i have seen some that have recently arrived from the world, and have recognized them from their face and speech; but seeing them afterwards i did not recognize them. those that had been in good affections appeared with beautiful faces; but those that had been in evil affections with misshapen faces; for man's spirit, viewed in itself, is nothing but his affection; and the face is its outward form. another reason why faces are changed is that in the other life no one is permitted to counterfeit affections that are not his own, and thus assume looks that are contrary to his love. all in the other life are brought into such a state as to speak as they think, and to manifest in their looks and gestures the inclinations of their will. and because of this the faces of all become forms and images of their affections; and in consequence all that have known each other in the world know each other in the world of spirits, but not in heaven nor in hell (as has been said above, n. ).{ } {footnote } the face is so formed as to correspond with the interiors (n. - , ). the correspondence of the face and its expressions with the affections of the mind (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). with the angels of heaven the face makes one with the interiors that belong to the mind (n. - , , ). therefore in the word the face signifies the interiors that belong to the mind, that is, to the affection and thought (n. , , , , , , , ). in what manner the influx from the brain into the face has been changed in process of time and with it the face itself as regards its correspondence with the interiors (n. , ). . the faces of hypocrites are changed more slowly than those of others, because by practice they had formed a habit of so managing their interiors as to imitate good affections; consequently for a long time they appear not unbeautiful. but as that which they had assumed is gradually put off, and the interiors of the mind are brought into accord with the form of their affections, they become after awhile more misshapen than others. hypocrites are such as have been accustomed to talk like angels, but interiorly have acknowledged nature alone and not the divine, and have therefore denied what pertains to heaven and the church. . it should be known that everyone's human form after death is the more beautiful in proportion as he has more interiorly loved divine truths and lived according to them; for everyone's interiors are opened and formed in accordance with his love and life; therefore the more interior the affection is the more like heaven it is, and in consequence the more beautiful the face is. this is why the angels in the inmost heaven are the most beautiful, for they are forms of celestial love. but those that have loved divine truths more exteriorly, and thus have lived in accordance with them in a more external way, are less beautiful; for exterior affections only shine forth from their faces; and through these no interior heavenly love shines, consequently nothing of the form of heaven as it is in itself. there is seen in the faces of such something comparatively obscure, not vivified by any thing of interior life shining through it. in a word, all perfection increases toward interiors and decreases toward exteriors, and as perfection increases and decreases so does beauty. i have seen angelic faces of the third heaven of such radiance that no painter with all his art could possibly give any such light to his colors as to equal a thousandth part of the brightness and life that shone forth from their countenances. but the faces of the angels of the lowest heaven may in some measure be equalled. . in conclusion i will mention a certain arcanum hitherto unknown to any one, namely, that every good and truth that goes forth from the lord and makes heaven is in the human form; and this not only as a whole and in what is greatest, but also in every part and what is least; also that this form affects everyone who receives good and truth from the lord, and causes everyone who is in heaven to be in the human form in accordance with his reception of good and truth. it is in consequence of this that heaven is like itself in general and in particular, and that the human form is the form of the whole, of every society, and of every angel (as has been shown in the four chapters from n. to ); to which let it be added that it is the form of the least things of thought derived from heavenly love with the angels. no man, however, can easily comprehend this arcanum; but it is clearly comprehended by the angels, because they are in the light of heaven. . xlviii. after death man is possessed of every sense, and of all the memory, thought, and affection, that he had in the world, leaving nothing behind except his earthly body. it has been proved to me by manifold experience that when man passes from the natural world into the spiritual, as he does when he dies, he carries with him all his possessions, that is, everything that belongs to him as a man, except his earthly body. for when man enters the spiritual world or the life after death, he is in a body as he was in the world, with no apparent difference, since he neither sees nor feels any difference. but his body is then spiritual, and thus separated or purified from all that is earthly; and when what is spiritual touches or sees what is spiritual, it is just the same as when what is natural touches or sees what is natural. so when a man has become a spirit he does not know otherwise than that he is in the same body that he had in the world and thus does not know that he has died. [ ] moreover, a man's spirit enjoys every sense, both outer and inner, that he enjoyed in the world; he sees as before, he hears and speaks as before, smells and tastes, and when touched, he feels the touch as before; he also longs, desires, craves, thinks, reflects, is stirred, loves, wills, as before; and one who takes delight in studies, reads and writes as before. in a word, when a man passes from one life into the other, or from one world into the other, it is like passing from one place into another, carrying with him all things that he had possessed in himself as a man; so that by death, which is only the death of the earthly body, man cannot be said to have lost anything really his own. [ ] furthermore, he carries with him his natural memory, retaining everything that he has heard, seen, read, learned, or thought, in the world from earliest infancy even to the end of life; although the natural objects that are contained in the memory, since they cannot be reproduced in the spiritual world, are quiescent, just as they are when one is not thinking of them. nevertheless, they are reproduced when the lord so wills. but more will be said presently about this memory and its state after death. a sensual man finds it impossible to believe that such is the state of man after death, because he cannot comprehend it; for a sensual man must needs think naturally even about spiritual things; therefore, any thing that does not appeal to his senses, that is, that he does not see with his bodily eyes and touch with his hands (as is said of thomas, john : , , ) he denies the existence of. (what the sensual man is may be seen above, n. and notes.) . [a.] and yet there is a great difference between man's life in the spiritual world and his life in the natural world, in regard both to his outer senses and their affections and his inner senses and their affections. those that are in heaven have more exquisite senses, that is, a keener sight and hearing, and also think more wisely than when they were in the world; for they see in the light of heaven, which surpasses by many degrees the light of the world (see above, n. ); and they hear by means of a spiritual atmosphere, which likewise surpasses by many degrees the earthly atmosphere (n. ). this difference in respect to the outward senses is like the difference between clear sunshine and dark cloudiness in the world, or between noonday light and evening shade. for the light of heaven, since it is divine truth, enables the eyes of angels to perceive and distinguish most minute things. [ ] moreover, their outer sight corresponds to their inner sight or understanding; for with angels one sight so flows into the other as to act as one with it; and this gives them their great keenness of vision. in like manner, their hearing corresponds to their perception, which pertains both to the understanding and to the will, and in consequence they perceive in the tone and words of one speaking the most minute things of his affection and thought; in the tone what pertains to his affection, and in the words what pertains to his thought (see above, n. - ). but the rest of the senses with the angels are less exquisite than the senses of seeing and hearing, for the reason that seeing and hearing serve their intelligence and wisdom, and the rest do not; and if the other senses were equally exquisite they would detract from the light and joy of their wisdom, and would let in the delight of pleasures pertaining to various appetites and to the body; and so far as these prevail they obscure and weaken the understanding. this takes place in the world, where men become gross and stupid in regard to spiritual truths so far as they indulge the sense of taste and yield to the allurements of the sense of touch. [ ] from what has already been said and shown in the chapter on the wisdom of the angels of heaven (n. - ), it can be seen that the inner senses also of the angels of heaven, which pertain to their thought and affection, are more exquisite and perfect than the senses they had in the world. but as regards the state of those that are in hell as compared with the state of those in the world there is also a great difference, for as great as is the perfection and excellence of the outer and inner senses of the angels in heaven, with those who are in hell the imperfection is equally great. but the state of these will be treated of hereafter. . [b.] that when a man leaves the world he takes with him all his memory has been shown to me in many ways, and many of the things i have seen and heard are worthy of mention, some of which i will relate in order. there were some who denied their crimes and villainies which they had perpetrated in the world; and in consequence, that they might not be believed innocent, all their deeds were disclosed and reviewed from their memory in order, from their earliest to their latest years; these were chiefly adulteries and whoredoms. [ ] there were some who had deceived others by wicked arts and had committed thefts. the deceits and thefts of these were also enumerated in detail, many of which were known to scarcely any in the world except themselves. these deeds they confessed, because they were plainly set forth, with every thought, intention, pleasure, and fear which occupied their minds at the time. [ ] there were others who had accepted bribes, and had rendered venal judgments, who were similarly explored from their memory and from it everything they had done from the beginning to the end of their office was reviewed. every detail in regard to what and how much they had received, as well as the time, and their state of mind and intention, were brought to their recollection and made visibly clear to the number of many hundreds. this was done with several and what is wonderful, in some cases their memorandum-books, in which they had recorded these things, were opened and read before them page by page. [ ] others who had enticed maidens to shame or had violated chastity were called to a like judgment; and the details of their crimes were drawn forth from their memory and reviewed. the very faces of the maidens and women were also exhibited as if present, with the places, words and intentions, and this as suddenly as when a scene is presented to the sight, the exhibitions continuing sometimes for hours. [ ] there was one who had made light of slandering others; and i heard his slanders recounted in order, and his defamations, with the very words, and the persons about whom and before whom they were uttered; all of which were produced and presented to the very life, although while he lived in the world he had most carefully concealed everything. [ ] there was one who had deprived a relative of his inheritance under a fraudulent pretext; and he was in like manner convicted and judged; and what is wonderful, the letters and papers that passed between them were read in my hearing, and it was said that not a word was lacking. [ ] the same person shortly before his death had also secretly poisoned his neighbor. this was disclosed in this way. he appeared to be digging a trench under his feet, from which a man came forth as out of a grave, and cried out to him, "what have you done to me?" then everything was revealed, how the poisoner had talked with him in a friendly manner, and had held out the cup, also what he thought beforehand, and what happened afterwards. when all this had been disclosed he was sentenced to hell. [ ] in a word, to each evil spirit all his evils, villainies, robberies, artifices, and deceits are made clear, and are brought forth from his very memory, and his guilt is fully established; nor is there any possible room for denial, because all the circumstances are exhibited together. moreover, i have learned from a man's memory, when it was seen and inspected by angels, what his thoughts had been for a month, one day after another, and this without mistake, the thoughts being recalled just as they arose from day to day. [ ] from these examples it can be seen that man carries with him all of his memory, and that nothing can be so concealed in the world as not to be disclosed after death, which is done in the presence of many, according to the lord's words: there is nothing concealed that shall not be uncovered, and nothing secret that shall not be known; therefore what ye have spoken in the dark shall be heard in the light and what ye have spoken in the ear shall be proclaimed on the housetops (luke : , ). . in disclosing his acts to a man after death, the angels to whom the office of searching is assigned look into his face, and their search extends through the whole body, beginning with the fingers of each hand, and thus proceeding through the whole. as i wondered at this the reason was given, namely, that as all things of the thought and will are inscribed on the brain, for their beginnings are there, so are they likewise inscribed on the whole body, since all things of thought and will extend from their beginnings into all things of the body and there terminate as in their outmosts; and this is why the things that are inscribed on the memory from the will and consequent thought are inscribed not only on the brain, but also upon the whole man, and there exist in order in accordance with the order of the parts of the body. it was thus made clear that man as a whole is such as he is in his will and its thought, even to the extent that an evil man is his own evil, and a good man his own good.{ } this shows what is meant by the book of man's life spoken of in the word, namely, that all things that he has done and all things that he has thought are inscribed on the whole man, and when they are called forth from the memory they appear as if read in a book, and when the spirit is viewed in the light of heaven, they appear as in an image. to all this i would add something remarkable in regard to the continuance of the memory after death, by which i was assured that not only things in general but also the minutest particulars that have entered the memory remain and are never obliterated. i saw books there containing writings as in the world, and was told that they were from the memory of those who wrote, and that there was not a single word lacking in them that was in a book written by the same person in the world; and thus all the minutest particulars might be drawn from one's memory, even those that he had forgotten in the world. and the reason was given, namely, that man has an external and an internal memory, an external memory belonging to his natural man, and an internal memory belonging to his spiritual man; and that every least thing that a man has thought, willed, spoken, done or even heard and seen, is inscribed on his internal or spiritual memory;{ } and that what is there is never erased, since it is also inscribed on the spirit itself and on the members of its body, as has been said above; and that the spirit is thus formed in accordance with the thoughts and acts of its will. i know that this sounds like a paradox, and is therefore difficult to believe; but still it is true. let no one believe, then, that there is any thing that a man has ever thought in himself or done in secret that can be concealed after death; but let him believe that all things and each single thing are then laid open as clear as day. {footnote } a good man, spirit, or angel, is his own good and his own truth, that is, he is wholly such as his good and truth are (n. , ). this is because good is what makes the will and truth the understanding; and the will and understanding make everything of life in man, spirit, or angel (n. , , ). it is the same thing to say that a man, spirit, or angel is his own love (n. , , ). {footnote } man has two memories an outer and an inner, or a natural and a spiritual memory (n. - ). man does not know that he has an inner memory (n. , ). how far the inner memory surpasses the outer (n. ). the things contained in the outer memory are in the light of the world, but the things contained in the inner are in the light of heaven (n. ). it is from the inner memory that man is able to think and speak intellectually and rationally (n. ). all things and each thing that a man has thought, spoken, and done, and that he has seen and heard, are inscribed on the inner memory (n. , ). that memory is the book of his life (n. , , , ). in the inner memory are the truths that have been made truths of faith, and the goods that have been made goods of love (n. , ). those things that have become matters of habit and have come to be things of the life, and have thus disappeared from the outer memory, are in the inner memory (n. , , ). spirits and angels speak from the inner memory and consequently have a universal language (n. , , , ). the languages of the world belong to the outer memory (n. , ). . although the external or natural memory remains in man after death, the merely natural things in it are not reproduced in the other life, but only the spiritual things adjoined to the natural by correspondences; but when these are present to the sight they appear in exactly the same form as they had in the natural world; for all things seen in the heavens have just the same appearance as in the world, although in their essence they are not natural but spiritual (as may be seen in the chapter on representatives and appearances in heaven, n. - ). [ ] but the external or natural memory in respect to the things in it that are derived from the material, and from time and space, and from other properties of nature, is not serviceable to the spirit in the way that it was serviceable to it in the world, for whenever man thinks in the world from his external sensual, and not at the same time from his internal or intellectual sensual, he thinks naturally and not spiritually; but in the other life when he is a spirit in the spiritual world he does not think naturally but spiritually, and to think spiritually is to think intellectually or rationally. for this reason the external or natural memory in respect to its material contents is then quiescent, and only those things that man has imbibed in the world by means of material things, and has made rational, come into use. the external memory becomes quiescent in respect to material things because these cannot then be brought forth, since spirits and angels speak from those affections and thoughts that are proper to their minds; and are therefore unable to give expression to any thing that is not in accord with their affections and thoughts as can be seen in what is said about the speech of angels in heaven and their speech with man (n. - ). [ ] because of this man after death is rational, not in the degree that he was skilled in languages and sciences in the world, but in the degree in which he became rational by means of these. i have talked with many who were believed in the world to be learned because they were acquainted with ancient languages, such as the hebrew, greek, and latin, but had not cultivated their rational faculty by what is written in those languages. some of them were seen to be just as simple as those who knew nothing of those languages, and some even stupid, and yet they retained the conceit of being wiser than others. [ ] i have talked with some who had believed in the world that man is wise in the measure of the contents of his memory, and who had stored up many things in their memory, speaking almost solely from the memory, and therefore not from themselves but from others, and their rationality had not been at all perfected by means of the things in their memory. some of these were stupid and some sottish, not in the least comprehending whether a truth is true or not, and seizing upon all falsities that are passed off for truths by those who called themselves learned; for from themselves they are unable to see any thing, whether it be true or not, and consequently are unable to see any thing rationally when listening to others. [ ] i have also talked with some who had written much in the world on scientific subjects of every kind, and had thereby acquired a worldwide reputation for learning. some of these, indeed, had the ability to reason about truths, whether they are true or not; and some, when they had turned to those who were in the light of truth, had some comprehension that truths are true, but still had no wish to comprehend them, and therefore when they were in their own falsities, and thus in themselves, denied them. some had no more wisdom than the unlearned common people. thus each differed from the other according as he had cultivated his rational faculty by means of the knowledges he had written about or collated. but those who were opposed to the truths of the church, and who thought from mere knowledges and confirmed themselves thereby in falsities, did not cultivate their rational faculty, but cultivated only an ability to reason, which in the world is believed to be rationality. but this ability is wholly different from rationality; it is an ability to prove any thing it pleases, and from preconceived principles and from fallacies to see falsities and not truths. such persons can never be brought to acknowledge truths, since truths cannot be seen from falsities; but falsities may be seen from truths. [ ] the rational faculty of man is like a garden or shrubbery, or like fresh ground; the memory is the soil, truths known and knowledges are the seeds, the light and heat of heaven cause them to grow; without light and heat there is no germination; so is it with the mind when the light of heaven, which is divine truth, and the heat of heaven, which is divine love, are not admitted; rationality is solely from these. it is a great grief to the angels that learned men for the most part ascribe all things to nature, and have thereby so closed up the interiors of their minds as to be unable to see any thing of truth from the light of truth, which is the light of heaven. in consequence of this such in the other life are deprived of their ability to reason that they may not disseminate falsities among the simple good and lead them astray; and are sent away into desert places. . a certain spirit was indignant because he was unable to remember many things that he knew in the life of the body, grieving over the lost pleasure which he had so much enjoyed, but he was told that he had lost nothing at all, that he still knew each and everything that he had known, although in the world where he now was no one was permitted to call forth such things from the memory, and that he ought to be satisfied that he could now think and speak much better and more perfectly than before, and that his rational was not now immersed as before in gross, obscure, material and corporeal things, which are of no use in the kingdom into which he had now come; also that he now possessed everything conducive to the uses of eternal life, and that this is the only way of becoming blessed and happy; and therefore it is the part of ignorance to believe that in this kingdom intelligence perishes with the removal or quiescence of the material things in the memory; for the real fact is that so far as the mind can be withdrawn from things of sense pertaining to the external man or the body, so far it is elevated to things spiritual and heavenly. . what these two memories are is sometimes presented to view in the other life in forms not elsewhere seen; for many things which in man take the form of ideas are there presented as objects of sight. the external memory there presents the appearance of a callus, the internal the appearance of a medullary substance like that in the human brain; and from this what they are can be known. with those that have devoted themselves in the life of the body to the cultivation of the memory alone, and have not cultivated their rational faculty, the callosity appears hard and streaked within as with tendons. with those that have filled the memory with falsities it appears hairy and rough, because of the confused mass of things in it. with those that have cultivated the memory with the love of self and the world as an end it appears glued together and ossified. with those that have wished to penetrate into divine arcana by means of learning, especially of a philosophical kind, with an unwillingness to believe until convinced by such proofs, the memory appears like a dark substance, of such a nature as to absorb the rays of light and turn them into darkness. with those that have practiced deceit and hypocrisy it appears hard and bony like ebony, which reflects the rays of light. but with those that have been in the good of love and the truths of faith there is no such callous appearance, because their inner memory transmits the rays of light into the outer; and in its objects or ideas as in their basis or their ground, the rays terminate and find delightful receptacles; for the outer memory is the out most of order in which, when goods and truths are there, the spiritual and heavenly things are gently terminated and find their seat. . men living in the world who are in love to the lord and charity toward the neighbor have with them and in them angelic intelligence and wisdom, but it is then stored up in the inmosts of the inner memory; and they are not at all conscious of it until they put off corporeal things. then the natural memory is laid asleep and they awake into their inner memory, and then gradually into angelic memory itself. . how the rational faculty may be cultivated shall also be told in a few words. the genuine rational faculty consists of truths and not of falsities; whatever consists of falsities is not rational. there are three kinds of truths, civil, moral, and spiritual. civil truths relate to matters of judgment and of government in kingdoms, and in general to what is just and equitable in them. moral truths pertain to the matters of everyone's life which have regard to companionships and social relations, in general to what is honest and right, and in particular to virtues of every kind. but spiritual truths relate to matters of heaven and of the church, and in general to the good of love and the truth of faith. [ ] in every man there are three degrees of life (see above, n. ). the rational faculty is opened to the first degree by civil truths, to the second degree by moral truths, and to the third degree by spiritual truths. but it must be understood that the rational faculty that consists of these truths is not formed and opened by man's knowing them, but by his living according to them; and living according to them means loving them from spiritual affection; and to love truths from spiritual affection is to love what is just and equitable because it is just and equitable, what is honest and right because it is honest and right, and what is good and true because it is good and true; while living according to them and loving them from the bodily affection is loving them for the sake of self and for the sake of one's reputation, honor or gain. consequently, so far as man loves these truths from a bodily affection he fails to become rational, for he loves, not them, but himself; and the truths are made to serve him as servants serve their lord; and when truths become servants they do not enter the man and open any degree of life in him, not even the first, but merely rest in the memory as knowledges under a material form, and there conjoin themselves with the love of self, which is a bodily love. [ ] all this shows how man becomes rational, namely, that he becomes rational to the third degree by a spiritual love of the good and truth which pertain to heaven and the church; he becomes rational to the second degree by a love of what is honest and right; and to the first degree by a love of what is just and equitable. these two latter loves also become spiritual from a spiritual love of good and truth, because that love flows into them and conjoins itself to them and forms in them as it were its own semblance. . spirits and angels, equally with men, have a memory, whatever they hear, see, think, will and do, remaining with them, and thereby their rational faculty is continually cultivated even to eternity. thus spirits and angels, equally with men, are perfected in intelligence and wisdom by means of knowledges of truth and good. that spirits and angels have a memory i have been permitted to learn by much experience, having seen everything that they have thought and done, both in public and in private, called forth from their memories when they were with other spirits; and i have seen those that were in some truth from simple good imbued with knowledges, and thereby with intelligence, and afterwards raised up into heaven. but it must be understood that such are not imbued with knowledges and thereby with intelligence beyond the degree of affection for good and for truth that they have attained to while in the world; for such and so much of affection as any spirit or angel had in the world remains with him; and this affection is afterwards perfected by being filled out, which goes on to eternity. for everything is capable of being filled out to eternity, since everything is capable of infinite variation, thus of enrichment by various things, and consequently of multiplication and fructification. to any thing good there is no limit because it is from the infinite. that spirits and angels are being perfected unceasingly in intelligence and wisdom by means of knowledges of truth and good may be seen above, in the chapters on the wisdom of the angels of heaven (n. - ); on the heathen or people outside the church in heaven (n. - ); and on little children in heaven (n. - ); and that this is done to that degree of affection for good and for truth in which they had been in the world, and not beyond it, may be seen in n. . . xlix. man after death is such as his life had been in the world. every christian knows from the word that one's own life awaits him after death; for it is there said in many passages that man will be judged and rewarded according to his deeds and works; and no one who thinks from good and from real truth can help seeing that he who lives well goes to heaven and that he who lives wickedly goes to hell. but the evil man is unwilling to believe that his state after death is according to his life in the world; he thinks, especially when he is sick, that heaven is granted to everyone out of pure mercy, whatever his life may have been, and that this is done in accordance with his faith, which he separates from life. . that man will be judged and rewarded according to his deeds and works is declared in many passages in the word, some of which i will here quote: the son of man shall come in the glory of his father with his angels and then he will render unto everyone according to his works (matt. : ). blessed are the dead that die in the lord; yea, saith the spirit, that they may rest from their labors, for their works follow them (apoc. : ). i will give to everyone according to his works (apoc. : ). i saw the dead, small and great, standing before god; and the books were opened and the dead were judged out of the things that were written in the books according to their works. the sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and hell gave up those that were in them, and they were judged everyone according to their works (apoc. : , ). behold i come, and my reward is with me, to give to everyone according to his works (apoc. : ). everyone that heareth my words and doeth them i will liken to a prudent man; but everyone that heareth my words and doeth them not is likened to a foolish man (matt. : , ). not everyone that saith unto me, lord, lord, shall enter into the kingdom of the heavens; but he that doeth the will of my father who is in the heavens. many will say unto me in that day, lord, lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and through thy name cast out demons, and in thy name done many mighty works? but then will i confess to them, i know you not: depart from me, ye workers of iniquity (matt. : - ). then shall ye begin to say, we have eaten and drunk before thee; thou hast taught in our streets. but he will say, i tell you i know you not, ye workers of iniquity (luke : - ). i will recompense them according to their work and according to the doing of their hands (jer. : ). jehovah, whose eyes are open upon all the ways of men, to give to everyone according to his ways and according to the fruit of his works (jer. : ). i will visit upon his ways and recompense to him his works (hosea : ). jehovah doeth with us according to our ways and according to our works (zech. : ). in foretelling the last judgment the lord recounts nothing but works, teaching that those that have done good works will enter into eternal life, and those that have done evil works will enter into damnation, as in matthew ( : - ), and in many other passages that treat of the salvation and condemnation of man. it is clear that works and deeds constitute the outward life of man, and that the quality of his inward life is made evident in them. . but by deeds and works, what they are inwardly is here meant, and not the way they outwardly appear; for everyone knows that every deed and work goes forth from the man's will and thought; otherwise it would be nothing but a movement like that of an automaton or image. consequently, a deed or work viewed in itself is merely an effect that derives its soul and life from will and thought, even to the extent that it is nothing but will and thought in effect, and thus is will and thought in outward form. from this it follows that a deed or work is in quality such as are the will and thought that produce it. if the thought and will are good the deeds and works are good; but if the thought and will are evil the deeds and works are evil, although in outward form they appear alike. a thousand men may act alike, that is, may do like deeds, so alike in outward form as to be almost undistinguishable, and yet each one regarded in itself be different, because from an unlike will. [ ] for example, when one acts honestly and justly with a companion, one person may do it for the purpose of appearing to be honest and just out of regard to himself and his own honor; another out of regard to the world and gain; a third out of regard to reward and merit; a fourth out of regard to friendship; a fifth from fear of the law and the loss of reputation or employment; a sixth that he may draw some one to his own side, even when he is in the wrong; a seventh that he may deceive; and others from other motives. in all these instances although the deeds are good in appearance, since it is a good thing to act honestly and justly with a companion, they are nevertheless evil, because they are done, not out of regard to honesty and justice and for the love of these, but out of regard to love of self and the world which are loved; and honesty and justice are made to serve that love as servants serve a lord, whom the lord despises and dismisses when they fail to serve him. [ ] in outward form those act in a like way who act honestly and justly with a companion because they love what is honest and just. some of these act from the truth of faith or from obedience, because the word so commands; some from the good of faith or from conscience, because from a religious motive; some from good of charity towards the neighbor because his good should be regarded; some from the good of love to the lord because good should be done for the sake of good, as also what is honest and just should be done for the sake of honesty and justice; and this they love because it is from the lord, and because the divine that goes forth from the lord is in it, and consequently regarded in its very essence it is divine. the deeds or works of such are inwardly good, and therefore are outwardly good also; for, as has been said above, deeds or works are precisely such in quality as the thought and will from which they proceed, and apart from thought and will they are not deeds and works, but only inanimate movements. all this explains what is meant in the word by works and deeds. . as deeds and works are from the will and thought, so are they from the love and faith, consequently they are such as the love and faith are; for it is the same thing whether you say one's love or his will, and it is the same thing whether you say one's faith or his established thought; for that which a man loves he wills, and that which a man believes he thinks; and when a man loves what he believes he also wills it and as far as possible does it. everyone may know that love and faith are within man's will and thought, and not outside of them, for love is what kindles the will, and the thought is what it enlightens in matters of faith; therefore only those that are able to think wisely are enlightened, and in the measure of their enlightenment they think what is true and will it, or what is the same, they believe what is true and love it.{ } {footnote } as all things that exist according to order in the universe have relation to good and truth, so in man all things have relation to will and understanding (n. , ). for the reason that the will is a recipient of good and the understanding a recipient of truth (n. , , , , , , , ). it amounts to the same whether you say truth or faith, for faith belongs to truth and truth belongs to faith; and it amounts to the same whether you say good or love for love belongs to good and good belongs to love (n. , , , , ). from this it follows that the understanding is a recipient of faith, and the will a recipient of love (n. , , ). and since the understanding of man is capable of receiving faith in god and the will is capable of receiving love to god, man is capable of being conjoined with god in faith and love, and he that is capable of being conjoined with god in love and faith can never die (n. , , ). . but it must be understood that it is the will that makes the man, while thought makes the man only so far as it goes forth from the will; and deeds and works go forth from both; or what is the same, it is love that makes the man, and faith only so far as it goes forth from love; and deeds or works go forth from both. consequently, the will or love is the man himself, for whatever goes forth belongs to that from which it goes forth. to go forth is to be brought forth and presented in suitable form for being perceived and seen.{ } all this makes clear what faith is when separated from love, namely, that it is no faith, but mere knowledge, which has no spiritual life in it; likewise what a deed or work is apart from love, namely, that it is not a deed or work of life, but a deed or work of death, which possesses an appearance of life from an evil love and a belief in what is false. this appearance of life is what is called spiritual death. {footnote } the will of man is the very being [esse] of his life, because it is the receptacle of love or good, and the understanding is the outgo [existere] of life therefrom, because it is the receptacle of faith or truth (n. , , ). thus the life of the will is the chief life of man, and the life of the understanding proceeds therefrom (n. , , , , , , , , ). in the same way as light proceeds from fire or flame (n. , ). from this it follows that man is man by virtue of his will and his understanding therefrom (n. , , , , , ). every man is loved and esteemed by others in accordance with the good of his will and of his understanding therefrom, for he that wills well and understands well is loved and esteemed; and he that understands well and does not will well is set aside and despised (n. , ). after death man continues to be such as his will is, and his understanding therefrom (n, , , , ). consequently after death man continues to be such as his love is, and his faith therefrom; and whatever belongs to his faith and not also to his love then vanishes, because it is not in the man, thus not of the man (n. , , ). . again, it must be understood that in deeds or works the whole man is exhibited, and that his will and thought or his love and faith, which are his interiors, are not complete until they exist in deeds or works, which are his exteriors, for these are the outmosts in which the will and thought terminate, and without such terminations they are interminate, and have as yet no existence, that is, are not yet in the man. to think and to will without doing, when there is opportunity, is like a flame enclosed in a vessel and goes out; also like seed cast upon the sand, which fails to grow, and so perishes with its power of germination. but to think and will and from that to do is like a flame that gives heat and light all around, or like a seed in the ground that grows up into a tree or flower and continues to live. everyone can know that willing and not doing, when there is opportunity, is not willing; also that loving and not doing good, when there is opportunity, is not loving, but mere thought that one wills and loves; and this is thought separate, which vanishes and is dissipated. love and will constitute the soul itself of a deed or work, and give form to its body in the honest and just things that the man does. this is the sole source of man's spiritual body, or the body of his spirit; that is, it is formed solely out of the things that the man does from his love or will (see above, n. ). in a word, all things of man and his spirit are contained in his deeds or works.{ } {footnote } interior things flow in successively into exterior things even down to the extreme or outmost, and there they come forth and have permanent existence (n. , , , , ). they not only flow in, but in the outmost they form the simultaneous, in what order (n. , , , ). thereby all interior things are held together in connection, and have permanent existence (n. ). deeds or works are the outmosts which contain the interiors (n. ). therefore being recompensed and judged according to deeds and works is being recompensed and judged in accordance with all things of one's love and faith, or of his will and thought because these are the interiors contained in deeds and works (n. , , , , , ). . all this makes clear what the life is that awaits man after death, namely, that it is his love and his faith therefrom, not only in potency, but also in act; thus that it is his deeds or works, because in these all things of man's love and faith are contained. . it is man's ruling love that awaits him after death, and this is in no way changed to eternity. everyone has many loves; but they are all related to his ruling love, and make one with it or together compose it. all things of the will that are in harmony with the ruling love are called loves, because they are loved. these loves are both inner and outer; some directly connected and some mediately; some nearer and some more remote; they are subservient in various ways. taken together they constitute a kingdom, as it were, such being the order in which they are arranged in man, although man knows nothing what ever about that arrangement. and yet something of it is made manifest to him in the other life, for the spread of his thought and affection there is in accordance with the arrangement of his loves, his thought and affection extending into heavenly societies when the ruling love is made up of the loves of heaven, but into infernal societies when it is made up of the loves of hell. that all the thought and affection of spirits and of angels has extension into societies may be seen above, in the chapters on the wisdom of the angels of heaven, and on the form of heaven which determines affiliations and communications there. . but what has been said thus far appeals only to the thought of the rational man. that it may also be presented to the perception derived from the senses, i will add some experiences by which it may be illustrated and confirmed. first, man after death is his own love or his own will. second, man continues to eternity such as his will or ruling love is. third, the man who has heavenly and spiritual love goes to heaven, while the man who has corporeal and worldly love, and no heavenly and spiritual love, goes to hell. fourth, unless faith is from heavenly love it does not endure in man. fifth, love in act, that is, the life of man, is what endures. . (i) man after death is his own love or his own will. this has been proved to me by manifold experience. the entire heaven is divided into societies according to differences of good of love; and every spirit who is taken up into heaven and becomes an angel is taken to the society where his love is; and when he arrives there he is, as it were, at home, and in the house where he was born; this the angel perceives, and is affiliated with those there that are like himself. when he goes away to another place he feels constantly a kind of resistance, and a longing to return to his like, thus to his ruling love. thus are affiliations brought about in heaven; and in a like manner in hell, where all are affiliated in accordance with loves that are the opposites of heavenly loves. it has been shown above (n. - and - ) that both heaven and hell are composed of societies, and that they are all distinguished according to differences of love. [ ] that man after death is his own love might also be seen from the fact that whatever does not make one with his ruling love is then separated and as it were taken away from him. from one who is good everything discordant or inharmonious is separated and as it were taken away, and he is thus let into his own love. it is the same with an evil spirit, with the difference that from the evil truths are taken away, and from the good falsities are taken away, and this goes on until each becomes his own love. this is effected when the man-spirit is brought into the third state, which will be described hereafter. when this has been done he turns his face constantly to his own love, and this he has continually before his eyes, in whatever direction he turns (see above, n. , ). [ ] all spirits, provided they are kept in their ruling love, can be led wherever one pleases, and are incapable of resistance, however clearly they may see that this is being done, and however much they may think that they will resist. they have often been permitted to try whether they could do anything contrary to their ruling love, but in vain. their love is like a bond or a rope tied around them, by which they may be led and from which they cannot loose themselves. it is the same with men in the world who are also led by their love, or are led by others by means of their love; but this is more the case when they have become spirits, because they are not then permitted to make a display of any other love, or to counterfeit what is not their own. [ ] all interaction in the other life proves that the spirit of man is his ruling love, for so far any one is acting or speaking in accord with the love of another, to the same extent is the other plainly present, with full, joyous, and lively countenance; but when one is speaking or acting contrary to another's love, to that extent the other's countenance begins to be changed, to be obscured and undiscernible, until at length he wholly disappears as if he had not been there. i have often wondered how this could be, for nothing of the kind can occur in the world; but i have been told that it is the same with the spirit in man, which when it turns itself away from another ceases to be within his view. [ ] another proof that a spirit is his ruling love is that every spirit seizes and appropriates all things that are in harmony with his love, and rejects and repudiates all that are not. everyone's love is like a spongy or porous wood, which imbibes such fluids as promote its growth, and repels others. it is also like animals of every kind, which know their proper food and seek the things that agree with their nature, and avoid what disagrees; for every love wishes to be nourished on what belongs to it, evil love by falsities and good love by truths. i have sometimes been permitted to see certain simple good spirits desiring to instruct the evil in truths and goods; but when the instruction was offered them they fled far away, and when they came to their own they seized with great pleasure upon the falsities that were in agreement with their love. i have also seen good spirits talking together about truths, and the good who were present listened eagerly to the conversation, but the evil who were present paid no attention to it, as if they did not hear it. in the world of spirits ways are seen, some leading to heaven, some to hell, and each to some particular society. good spirits go only in the ways that lead to heaven, and to the society there that is in the good of their love; and do not see the ways that lead elsewhere; while evil spirits go only in the ways that lead to hell, and to the society there that is in the evil of their love; and do not see the ways that lead elsewhere; or if they see them have no wish to enter them. in the spiritual world these ways are real appearances, which correspond to truths or falsities; and this is why ways have this signification in the word.{ } by this evidence from experience what has previously been affirmed on the ground of reason is made more certain, namely, that every man after death is his own love and his own will. it is said one's own will because everyone's will is his love. {footnote } a "way," a "path," a "road," a "street," and a "broad street," signify truths leading to good, or falsities leading to evil (n. , , ). "to sweep [or prepare] a way" means to prepare for the reception of truths (n. ). "to make known the way" means, in respect to the lord, to instruct in truths that lead to good (n. ). . (ii) man after death continues to eternity such as his will or ruling love is. this, too, has been confirmed by abundant experience. i have been permitted to talk with some who lived two thousand years ago, and whose lives are described in history, and thus known; and i found that they continued to be just the same as they were described, that is, in respect to the love out of which and according to which their lives were formed. there were others known to history, that had lived seventeen centuries ago, others that had lived four centuries ago, and three, and so on, with whom i was permitted to talk; and i found that the same affection still ruled in them, with no other difference than that the delights of their love were turned into such things as correspond. the angels declare that the life of the ruling love is never changed in any one even to eternity, since everyone is his love; consequently to change that love in a spirit is to take away or extinguish his life; and for the reason that man after death is no longer capable of being reformed by instruction, as in the world, because the outmost plane, which consists of natural knowledges and affections, is then quiescent and not being spiritual cannot be opened (see above, n. ); and upon that plane the interiors pertaining to the mind and disposition rest as a house rests on its foundation; and on this account such as the life of one's love had been in the world such he continues to be to eternity. the angels are greatly surprised that man does not know that everyone is such as his ruling love is, and that many believe that they may be saved by mercy apart from means, or by faith alone, whatever their life may be; also that they do not know that divine mercy works by means, and that it consists in man's being led by the lord, both in the world and afterwards to eternity, and that those who do not live in evils are led by the divine mercy; and finally that faith is affection for truth going forth from heavenly love, which is from the lord. . (iii) the man who has heavenly and spiritual love goes to heaven; while the man who has corporeal and worldly love and no heavenly and spiritual love goes to hell. this has been made evident to me from all whom i have seen taken up into heaven or cast into hell. the life of those taken up into heaven had been derived from a heavenly and spiritual love, while the life of those cast into hell had been derived from a corporeal and worldly love. heavenly love consists in loving what is good, honest, and just, because it is good, honest and just, and in doing this from love; and those that have this love have a life of goodness, honesty, and justice, which is the heavenly life. those that love what is good, honest, and just, for its own sake, and who do this or live it, love the lord above all things, because this is from him; they also love the neighbor, because this is the neighbor who is to be loved.{ } but corporeal love is loving what is good, honest, and just, not for its own sake but for the sake of self, because reputation, honor, and gain can thus be acquired. such, in what is good, honest, and just, do not look to the lord and to the neighbor, but to self and the world, and find delight in fraud; and the goodness, honesty and justice that spring forth from fraud are evil, dishonesty, and injustice, and these are what are loved by such in their practice of goodness, honesty, and justice. [ ] as the life of everyone is determined by these different kinds of love, as soon as men after death enter the world of spirits they are examined to discover their quality, and are joined to those that are in a like love; those that are in heavenly love to those that are in heaven, and those that are in corporeal love to those that are in hell; and after they have passed through the first and second state they are so separated as to no longer see or know each other; for each one becomes his own love, both in respect to his interiors pertaining to his mind, and in respect to his exteriors pertaining to his face, body, and speech; for everyone becomes an image of his own love, even in externals. those that are corporeal loves appear gross, dusky, black and misshapen; while those that are heavenly loves appear fresh, bright, fair and beautiful. also in their minds and thoughts they are wholly unlike, those that are heavenly loves being intelligent and wise, while those that are corporeal loves are stupid and as it were silly. [ ] when it is granted to behold the interiors and exteriors of thought and affection of those that are in heavenly love, their interiors appear like light, and some like a flamy light, while their exteriors appear in various beautiful colors like rainbows. but the interiors of those that are in corporeal love appear as if black, because they are closed up; and the interiors of some who were interiorly in malignant deceit appear like a dusky fire. but their exteriors appear of a dirty color, and disagreeable to the sight. (the interiors and exteriors of the mind and disposition are made visible in the spiritual world whenever the lord pleases.) [ ] those that are in corporeal love see nothing in the light of heaven; to them the light of heaven is thick darkness; but the light of hell, which is like light from burning coals, is to them as clear light. moreover, in the light of heaven their inward sight is so darkened that they become insane; consequently they shun that light and hide themselves in dens and caverns, more or less deeply in accordance with the falsities in them derived from their evils. on the other hand those who are in heavenly love, the more interiorly and deeply they enter into the light of heaven, see all things more clearly and all things appear more beautiful to them, and they perceive truths more intelligently and wisely. [ ] again, it is impossible for those who are in corporeal love to live at all in the heat of heaven, for the heat of heaven is heavenly love; but they can live in the heat of hell, which is the love of raging against others that do not favor them. the delights of that love are contempt of others, enmity, hatred and revenge; and when they are in these delights they are in their life, and have no idea what it is to do good to others from good itself and for the sake of good itself, knowing only what it is to do good from evil and for the sake of evil. [ ] those who are in corporeal love are unable to breathe in heaven. when any evil spirit is brought into heaven he draws his breath like one struggling in a contest; while those that are in heavenly love have a freer respiration and a fuller life the more interiorly they are in heaven. all this shows that heaven with man is heavenly and spiritual love, because on that love all things of heaven are inscribed; also that hell in man is corporeal and worldly love apart from heavenly and spiritual love, because on such loves all things of hell are inscribed. evidently, then, he whose love is heavenly and spiritual enters heaven, and he whose love is corporeal and worldly apart from heavenly and spiritual love enters hell. {footnote } in the highest sense, the lord is the neighbor, because he is to be loved above all things; but loving the lord is loving what is from him, because he himself is in everything that is from him, thus it is loving what is good and true (n. , , , , , , ). loving what is good and true which is from the lord is living in accordance with good and truth, and this is loving the lord (n. , , , , , ). every man and every society, also one's country and the church, and in a universal sense the lord's kingdom, are the neighbor, and doing good to these from a love of good in accord with their state is loving the neighbor; that is, their good that should be consulted is the neighbor (n. - , ). moral good also, which is honesty, and civil good, which is justice, are the neighbor; and to act honestly and justly from the love of honesty and justice is loving the neighbor (n. , , - ). thus charity towards the neighbor extends to all things of the life of man, and loving the neighbor is doing what is good and just, and acting honestly from the heart, in every function and in every work (n. , , ). the doctrine in the ancient church was the doctrine of charity, and from that they had wisdom (n. , , , , , ). . (iv) unless faith is from heavenly love it does not endure in man. this has been made clear to me by so much experience that if everything i have seen and heard respecting it were collected, it would fill a volume. this i can testify, that those who are in corporeal and worldly love apart from heavenly and spiritual love have no faith whatever, and are incapable of having any; they have nothing but knowledge or a persuasion that a thing is true because it serves their love. some of those who claimed that they had faith were brought to those who had faith, and when they communicated with them they perceived that they had no faith at all; and afterwards they confessed that merely believing what is true and believing the word is not faith, but that faith is loving truth from heavenly love, and willing and doing it from interior affection. moreover, they were shown that their persuasion which they called faith was merely like the light of winter, in which light, because it has no heat in it, all things on the earth are bound up in frost, become torpid, and lie buried under the snow. as soon, therefore, as the light of persuasive faith in them is touched by the rays of the light of heaven it is not only extinguished but is turned into a dense darkness, in which no one can see himself; and at the same time their interiors are so obscured that they can understand nothing at all, and at length become insane from falsities. consequently with such, all the truths that they have known from the word and from the doctrine of the church, and have called the truths of their faith, are taken away; and they imbibe in their place every falsity that is in accord with the evil of their life. for they are all let down into their loves and into the falsities agreeing with them; and they then hate and abhor and therefore reject truths, because they are repugnant to the falsities of evil in which they are. from all my experience in what pertains to heaven and hell i can bear witness that all those who from their doctrine have professed faith alone, and whose life has been evil, are in hell. i have seen many thousands of them cast down to hell. (respecting these see the treatise on the last judgment and the destruction of babylon.) . (v) love in act, that is, the life of man, is what endures. this follows as a conclusion from what has just been shown from experience, and from what has been said about deeds and works. love in act is work and deed. . it must be understood that all works and deeds pertain to moral and civil life, and therefore have regard to what is honest and right, and what is just and equitable, what is honest and right pertaining to moral life, and what is just and equitable to civil life. the love from which deeds are done is either heavenly or infernal. works and deeds of moral and civil life, when they are done from heavenly love, are heavenly; for what is done from heavenly love is done from the lord, and everything done from the lord is good. but the deeds and works of moral and civil life when done from infernal love are infernal; for what is done from this love, which is the love of self and of the world, is done from man himself, and everything that is done from man himself is in itself evil; for man regarded in himself, that is, in regard to what is his own, is nothing but evil.{ } {footnote } man's own consists in loving himself more than god, and the world more than heaven, and in making nothing of his neighbor in comparison with himself, thus it consists in the love of self and of the world (n. , , ). man is born into this own, and it is dense evil (n. , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). from what is man's own not only every evil but also every falsity is derived (n. , , , ). the evils that are from what is man's own are contempt for others, enmity, hatred, revenge, cruelty, deceit (n. , , , , , , ). so far as what is man's own rules, the good of love and the truth of faith are either rejected or suffocated or perverted (n. , , , , , , ). what is man's own is hell in him (n. , ). the good that man does from what is his own is not good, but in itself is evil (n. ). . l. the delights of every one's life are changed after death into things that correspond. it has been shown in the preceding chapter that the ruling affection or dominant love in everyone continues to eternity. it shall now be explained how the delights of that affection or love are changed into things that correspond. being changed into corresponding things means into things spiritual that correspond to the natural. that they are changed into things spiritual can be seen from this, that so long as man is in his earthly body he is in the natural world, but when he leaves that body he enters the spiritual world and is clothed with a spiritual body. it has already been shown that angels, and men after death, are in a complete human form, and that the bodies with which they are clothed are spiritual bodies (n. - and - ); also what the correspondence is of spiritual things with natural (n. - ). . all the delights that a man has are the delights of his ruling love, for he feels nothing to be delightful except what he loves, thus especially that which he loves above all things. it means the same whether you say the ruling love or that which is loved above all things. these delights are various. in general, there are as many as there are ruling loves; consequently as many as there are men, spirits, and angels; for no one's ruling love is in every respect like that of another. for this reason no one has a face exactly like that of any other; for each one's face is an image of his mind; and in the spiritual world it is an image of his ruling love. in particular, everyone's delights are of infinite variety. it is impossible for any one delight to be exactly like another, or the same as another, either those that follow one after another or those that exist together at the same time, no one ever being the same as another. nevertheless, the particular delights in everyone have reference to his one love, which is his ruling love, for they compose it and thus make one with it. likewise all delights in general have reference to one universally ruling love, which in heaven is love to the lord, and in hell is the love of self. . only from a knowledge of correspondences can it be known what spiritual delights everyone's natural delights are changed into after death, and what kind of delights they are. in general, this knowledge teaches that nothing natural can exist without something spiritual corresponding to it. in particular it teaches what it is that corresponds, and what kind of a thing it is. therefore, any one that has this knowledge can ascertain and know what his own state after death will be, if he only knows what his love is, and what its relation is to the universally ruling loves spoken of above, to which all loves have relation. but it is impossible for those who are in the love of self to know what their ruling love is, because they love what is their own, and call their evils goods; and the falsities that they incline to and by which they confirm their evils they call truths. and yet if they were willing they might know it from others who are wise, and who see what they themselves do not see. this however, is impossible with those who are so enticed by the love of self that they spurn all teaching of the wise. [ ] on the other hand, those who are in heavenly love accept instruction, and as soon as they are brought into the evils into which they were born, they see them from truths, for truths make evils manifest. from truth which is from good any one can see evil and its falsity; but from evil none can see what is good and true; and for the reason that falsities of evil are darkness and correspond to darkness; consequently those that are in falsities from evil are like the blind, not seeing the things that are in light, but shunning them instead like birds of night.{ } but as truths from good are light, and correspond to light (see above, n. - ), so those that are in truths from good have sight and open eyes, and discern the things that pertain to light and shade. [ ] this, too, has been proved to me by experience. the angels in heaven both see and perceive the evils and falsities that sometimes arise in themselves, also the evils and falsities in spirits in the world of spirits that are connected with the hells, although the spirits themselves are unable to see their own evils and falsities. such spirits have no comprehension of the good of heavenly love, of conscience, of honesty and justice, except such as is done for the sake of self; neither what it is to be led by the lord. they say that such things do not exist, and thus are of no account. all this has been said to the intent that man may examine himself and may recognize his love by his delights; and thus so far as he can make it out from a knowledge of correspondences may know the state of his life after death. {footnote } from correspondence "darkness" in the word signifies falsities, and "thick darkness" the falsities of evil (n. , , , ). to the evil the light of heaven is thick darkness (n. , , ). those that are in the hells are said to be in darkness because they are in falsities of evil; of such (n. , , ). in the word "the blind" signify those that are in falsities and are not willing to be taught (n. , ). . how the delights of everyone's life are changed after death into things that correspond can be known from a knowledge of correspondences; but as that knowledge is not as yet generally known i will try to throw some light on the subject by certain examples from experience. all who are in evil and who have established themselves in falsities in opposition to the truths of the church, especially those that have rejected the word, flee from the light of heaven and take refuge in caves that appear at their openings to be densely dark, also in clefts of rocks, and there they hide themselves; and this because they have loved falsities and hated truths; for such caves and clefts of rocks,{ } well as darkness, correspond to falsities, as light corresponds to truths. it is their delight to dwell in such places, and undelightful to dwell in the open country. [ ] those that have taken delight in insidious and secret plots and in treacherous machinations do the same thing. they are also in such caves; and they frequent rooms so dark that they are even unable to see one another; and they whisper together in the ears in corners. into this is the delight of their love changed. those that have devoted themselves to the sciences with no other end than to acquire a reputation for learning, and have not cultivated their rational faculty by their learning, but have taken delight in the things of memory from a pride in such things, love sandy places, which they choose in preference to fields and gardens, because sandy places correspond to such studies. [ ] those that are skilled in the doctrines of their own and other churches, but have not applied their knowledge to life, choose for themselves rocky places, and dwell among heaps of stones, shunning cultivated places because they dislike them. those that have ascribed all things to nature, as well as those that have ascribed all things to their own prudence, and by various arts have raised themselves to honors and have acquired wealth, in the other life devote themselves to the study of magic arts, which are abuses of divine order, and find in these the chief delight of life. [ ] those that have adapted divine truths to their own loves, and thereby have falsified them, love urinous things because these correspond to the delights of such loves.{ } those that have been sordidly avaricious dwell in cells, and love swinish filth and such stenches as are exhaled from undigested food in the stomach. [ ] those that have spent their life in mere pleasures and have lived delicately and indulged their palate and stomach, loving such things as the highest good that life affords, love in the other life excrementitious things and privies, in which they find their delight, for the reason that such pleasures are spiritual filth. places that are clean and free from filth they shun, finding them undelightful. [ ] those that have taken delight in adulteries pass their time in brothels, where all things are vile and filthy; these they love, and chaste homes they shun, falling into a swoon as soon as they enter them. nothing is more delightful to them than to break up marriages. those that have cherished a spirit of revenge, and have thereby contracted a savage and cruel nature, love cadaverous substances, and are in hells of that nature; and so on. {footnote } in the word a "hole" or "the cleft of a rock" signifies obscurity and falsity of faith (n. ). because a "rock" signifies faith from the lord (n. , ); and a "stone" the truth of faith (n. , , , , , , ). {footnote } the defilements of truth correspond to urine (n. ). . but the delights of life of those that have lived in the world in heavenly love are changed into such corresponding things as exist in the heavens, which spring from the sun of heaven and its light, that light presenting to view such things as have what is divine inwardly concealed in them. the things that appear in that light affect the interiors of the minds of the angels, and at the same time the exteriors pertaining to their bodies; and as the divine light, which is divine truth going forth from the lord, flows into their minds opened by heavenly love, it presents outwardly such things as correspond to the delights of their love. it has already been shown, in the chapter on representatives and appearances in heaven (n. - ), and in the chapter on the wisdom of the angels (n. - ), that the things that appear to the sight in the heavens correspond to the interiors of angels, or to the things pertaining to their faith and love and thus to their intelligence and wisdom. [ ] having already begun to establish this point by examples from experience, to make clearer what has been previously said on the ground of causes of things i will state briefly some particulars respecting the heavenly delightful things into which the natural delights of those that have lived in heavenly love in the world are changed. those that have loved divine truths and the word from an interior affection, or from an affection for truth itself, dwell in the other life in light, in elevated places that appear like mountains, where they are continually in the light of heaven. they do not know what darkness is, like that of night in the world; they live also in a vernal temperature; there are presented to their view fields filled with grain and vine-yards; in their houses everything glows as if from precious stones; and looking through the windows is like looking through pure crystal. such are the delights of their vision; but these same things are interiorly delightful because of their being correspondences of divine heavenly things, for the truths from the word which they have loved correspond to fields of grain, vineyards, precious stones, windows, and crystals.{ } [ ] those that have applied the doctrinals of the church which are from the word immediately to life, are in the inmost heaven, and surpass all others in their delights of wisdom. in every object they see what is divine; the objects they see indeed with their eyes; but the corresponding divine things flow in immediately into their minds and fill them with a blessedness that affects all their sensations. thus before their eyes all things seem to laugh, to play, and to live (see above, n. ). [ ] those that have loved knowledges and have thereby cultivated their rational faculty and acquired intelligence, and at the same time have acknowledged the divine-these in the other life have their pleasure in knowledges, and their rational delight changed into spiritual delight, which is delight in knowing good and truth. they dwell in gardens where flower beds and grass plots are seen beautifully arranged, with rows of trees round about, and arbors and walks, the trees and flowers changing from day to day. the entire view imparts delight to their minds in a general way, and the variations in detail continually renew the delight; and as everything there corresponds to something divine, and they are skilled in the knowledge of correspondences, they are constantly filled with new knowledges, and by these their spiritual rational faculty is perfected. their delights are such because gardens, flower beds, grass plots, and trees correspond to sciences, knowledges, and the resulting intelligence.{ } [ ] those that have ascribed all things to the divine, regarding nature as relatively dead and merely subservient to things spiritual, and have confirmed themselves in this view, are in heavenly light; and all things that appear before their eyes are made by that light transparent, and in their transparency exhibit innumerable variegations of light, which their internal sight takes in as it were directly, and from this they perceive interior delights. the things seen within their houses are as if made of diamonds, with similar variegations of light. the walls of their houses, as already said, are like crystal, and thus also transparent; and in them seemingly flowing forms representative of heavenly things are seen also with unceasing variety, and this because such transparency corresponds to the understanding when it has been enlightened by the lord and when the shadows that arise from a belief in and love for natural things have been removed. with reference to such things and infinite others, it is said by those that have been in heaven that they have seen what eye has never seen; and from a perception of divine things communicated to them by those who are there, that they have heard what ear has never heard. [ ] those that have not acted in secret ways, but have been willing to have all that they have thought made known so far as civil life would permit, because their thoughts have all been in accord with what is honest and just from the divine-these in heaven have faces full of light; and in that light every least affection and thought is seen in the face as in its form, and in their speech and actions they are like images of their affections. such, therefore, are more loved than others. while they are speaking the face becomes a little obscured; but as soon as they have spoken, the things they have said become plainly manifest all at once in the face. and as all the objects that exist round about them correspond to their interiors, these assume such an appearance that others can clearly perceive what they represent and signify. spirits that have found delight in clandestine acts, when they see such at a distance flee from them, and appear to themselves to creep away from them like serpents. [ ] those that have regarded adulteries as abominable, and have lived in a chaste love of marriage, are more than all others in the order and form of heaven, and therefore in all beauty, and continue unceasingly in the flower of youth. the delights of their love are ineffable, and increase to eternity; for all the delights and joys of heaven flow into that love, because that love descends from the conjunction of the lord with heaven and with the church, and in general from the conjunction of good and truth, which conjunction is heaven itself in general, and with each angel in particular (see above, n. - ). what their outward delights are it is impossible to describe in human words. these are only a few of the things that have been told me about the correspondences of the delights of those that are in heavenly love. {footnote } in the word a "field of corn" signifies a state of the reception and growth of truth from good (n. ). "standing corn" signifies truth in conception (n. ), "vineyards" signify the spiritual church and the truths of that church (n. , ). "precious stones" signify the truths of heaven and of the church transparent from good (n. , , , , , ). a "window" signifies the intellectual faculty which pertains to the internal sight (n. , , ). {footnote } a "garden," a "grove," and a "park," signify intelligence (n. , , ). this is why the ancients celebrated holy worship in groves (n. , ). "flowers" and "flower beds" signify truths learned and knowledges (n. ). "herbs," "grasses," and "grass plots" signify truths learned (n. ). "trees" signify perception and knowledges (n. , , , , , ). . all this makes evident that everyone's delights are changed after death into their correspondences, while the love itself continues to eternity. this is true of marriage love, of the love of justice, honesty, goodness and truth, the love of sciences and of knowledges, the love of intelligence and wisdom, and the rest. from these loves delights flow like streams from their fountain; and these continue; but when raised from natural to spiritual delights they are exalted to a higher degree. . li. the first state of man after death. there are three states that man passes through after death before he enters either heaven or hell. the first state is the state of his exteriors, the second state the state of his interiors, and the third his state of preparation. these states man passes through in the world of spirits. there are some, however, that do not pass through them; but immediately after death are either taken up into heaven or cast into hell. those that are immediately taken up into heaven are those that have been regenerated in the world and thereby prepared for heaven. those that have been so regenerated and prepared that they need simply to cast off natural impurities with the body are at once taken up by the angels into heaven. i have seen them so taken up soon after the hour of death. on the other hand, those that have been inwardly wicked while maintaining an outward appearance of goodness, and have thus filled up the measure of their wickedness by artifices, using goodness as a means of deceiving-these are at once cast into hell. i have seen some such cast into hell immediately after death, one of the most deceitful with his head downward and feet upward, and others in other ways. there are some that immediately after death are cast into caverns and are thus separated from those that are in the world of spirits, and are taken out from these and put back again by turns. they are such as have dealt wickedly with the neighbor under civil pretences. but all these are few in comparison with those that are retained in the world of spirits, and are there prepared in accordance with divine order for heaven or for hell. . in regard to the first state, which is the state of the exteriors, it is that which man comes into immediately after death. every man, as regards his spirit, has exteriors and interiors. the exteriors of the spirit are the means by which it adapts the man's body in the world, especially the face, speech, and movements, to fellowship with others; while the interiors of the spirit are what belong to its own will and consequent thought; and these are rarely manifested in face, speech, and movement. for man is accustomed from childhood to maintain a semblance of friendship, benevolence, and sincerity, and to conceal the thoughts of his own will, thereby living from habit a moral and civil life in externals, whatever he may be internally. as a result of this habit man scarcely knows what his interiors are, and gives little thought to them. . the first state of man after death resembles his state in the world, for he is then likewise in externals, having a like face, like speech, and a like disposition, thus a like moral and civil life; and in consequence he is made aware that he is not still in the world only by giving attention to what he encounters, and from his having been told by the angels when he was resuscitated that he had become a spirit(n. ). thus is one life continued into the other, and death is merely transition. . the state of man's spirit that immediately follows his life in the world being such, he is then recognized by his friends and by those he had known in the world; for this is something that spirits perceive not only from one's face and speech but also from the sphere of his life when they draw near. whenever any one in the other life thinks about another he brings his face before him in thought, and at the same time many things of his life; and when he does this the other becomes present, as if he had been sent for or called. this is so in the spiritual world because thoughts there are shared, and there is no such space there as in the natural world (see above, n. - ). so all, as soon as they enter the other life, are recognized by their friends, their relatives, and those in any way known to them; and they talk with one another, and afterward associate in accordance with their friendships in the world. i have often heard that those that have come from the world were rejoiced at seeing their friends again, and that their friends in turn were rejoiced that they had come. very commonly husband and wife come together and congratulate each other, and continue together, and this for a longer or shorter time according to their delight in living together in the world. but if they had not been united by a true marriage love, which is a conjunction of minds by heavenly love, after remaining together for a while they separate. or if their minds had been discordant and were inwardly adverse, they break forth into open enmity, and sometimes into combat; nevertheless they are not separated until they enter the second state, which will be treated of presently. . as the life of spirits recently from the world is not unlike their life in the natural world and as they know nothing about their state of life after death and nothing about heaven and hell except what they have learned from the sense of the letter of the word and preaching from it, they are at first surprised to find themselves in a body and in every sense that they had in the world, and seeing like things; and they become eager to know what heaven is, what hell is, and where they are. therefore their friends tell them about the conditions of eternal life, and take them about to various places and into various companies, and sometimes into cities, and into gardens and parks, showing them chiefly such magnificent things as delight the externals in which they are. they are then brought in turn into those notions about the state of their soul after death, and about heaven and hell, that they had entertained in the life of the body, even until they feel indignant at their total ignorance of such things, and at the ignorance of the church also. nearly all are anxious to know whether they will get to heaven. most of them believe that they will, because of their having lived in the world a moral and civil life, never considering that the bad and the good live a like life outwardly, alike doing good to others, attending public worship, hearing sermons, and praying; and wholly ignorant that external deeds and external acts of worship are of no avail, but only the internals from which the externals proceed. there is hardly one out of thousands who knows what internals are, and that it is in them that man must find heaven and the church. still less is it known that outward acts are such as the intentions and thoughts are, and the love and faith in these from which they spring. and even when taught they fail to comprehend that thinking and willing are of any avail, but only speaking and acting. such for the most part are those that go at this day from the christian world into the other life. . such, however, are explored by good spirits to discover what they are, and this in various ways; since in this the first state the evil equally with the good utter truths and do good acts, and for the reason mentioned above, that like the good they have lived morally in outward respects, since they have lived under governments, and subject to laws, and have thereby acquired a reputation for justice and honesty, and have gained favor, and thus been raised to honors, and have acquired wealth. but evil spirits are distinguished from good spirits chiefly by this, that the evil give eager attention to whatever is said about external things, and but little attention to what is said about internal things, which are the truths and goods of the church and of heaven. these they listen to, but not with attention and joy. the two classes are also distinguished by their turning repeatedly in specific directions, and following, when left to themselves, the paths that lead in those directions. from such turning to certain quarters and going in certain ways it is known by what love they are led. . all spirits that arrive from the world are connected with some society in heaven or some society in hell, and yet only as regards their interiors; and so long as they are in exteriors their interiors are manifested to no one, for externals cover and conceal internals, especially in the case of those who are in interior evil. but afterwards, when they come into the second state, their evils become manifest, because their interiors are then opened and their exteriors laid asleep. . this first state of man after death continues with some for days, with some for months, and with some for a year; but seldom with any one beyond a year; for a shorter or longer time with each one according to the agreement or disagreement of his interiors with his exteriors. for with everyone the exteriors and interior must make one and correspond. in the spiritual world no one is permitted to think and will in one way and speak and act in another. everyone there must be an image of his own affection or his own love, and therefore such as he is inwardly such he must be outwardly; and for this reason a spirit's exteriors are first disclosed and reduced to order that they may serve the interiors as a corresponding plane. . lii. the second state of man after death. the second state of man after death is called the state of his interiors, because he is then let into the interiors of his mind, that is, of his will and thought; while his exteriors, which he has been in during his first state, are laid asleep. whoever gives any thought to man's life and speech and action can see that everyone has exteriors and interiors, that is, exterior and interior thoughts and intentions. this is shown by the fact that in civil life one thinks about others in accordance with what he has heard and learned of them by report or conversation; but he does not talk with them in accordance with his thought; and if they are evil he nevertheless treats them with civility. that this is so is seen especially in the case of pretenders and flatterers, who speak and act in one way and think and will in a wholly different way; also in the case of hypocrites, who talk about god and heaven and the salvation of souls and the truths of the church and their country's good and their neighbor as if from faith and love, although in heart they believe otherwise and love themselves alone. [ ] all this makes clear that there are two kinds of thought, one exterior and the other interior; and that there are those who speak from exterior thought, while from their interior thought they have other sentiments, and that these two kinds of thought are kept separate, since the interior is carefully prevented from flowing into the exterior and becoming manifest in any way. by creation man is so formed as to have his interior and exterior thought make one by correspondence; and these do make one in those that are in good, for such both think and speak what is good only. but in those that are in evil interior and exterior thought do not make one, for such think what is evil and say what is good. with such there is an inversion of order, for good with them is on the outside and evil within; and in consequence evil has dominion over good, and subjects it to itself as a servant, that it may serve it as a means for gaining its ends, which are of the same nature as their love. with such an end contained in the good that they seek and do, their good is evidently not good, but is infected with evil, however good it may appear in outward form to those not acquainted with their interiors. [ ] it is not so with those that are in good. with such order is not inverted; but good from interior thought flows into exterior thought, and thus into word and act. into this order man was created; and in heaven, and in the light of heaven, his interiors are in this order. and as the light of heaven is the divine truth that goes forth from the lord, and consequently is the lord in heaven (n. - ), therefore such are led by the lord. all this has been said to make known that every man has interior thought and exterior thought, and that these are distinct from each other. the term thought includes also the will, for thought is from the will, and thought apart from willing is impossible. all this makes clear what is meant by the state of man's exteriors and the state of his interiors. . when will and thought are mentioned will includes affection and love, and all the delight and pleasure that spring from affection and love, since all these relate to the will as to their subject; for what a man wills he loves and feels to be delightful or pleasurable; and on the other hand, what a man loves and feels to be delightful or pleasurable, that he wills. but by thought is then meant everything by which affection or love is confirmed, for thought is simply the will's form, or that whereby what is willed may appear in light. this form is made apparent through various rational analyses, which have their origin in the spiritual world and belong properly to the spirit of man. . let it be understood that man is wholly such as his interiors are, and not such as his exteriors are separate from his interiors. this is because his interiors belong to his spirit, and the life of his spirit is the life of man, for from it his body lives; and because of this such as a man's interiors are such he continues to be to eternity. but as the exteriors pertain to the body they are separated after death, and those of them that adhere to the spirit are laid asleep, and serve purely as a plane for the interiors, as has been shown above in treating of the memory of man which continues after death. this makes evident what is man's own and what is not his own, namely, that with the evil man nothing that belongs to his exterior thought from which he speaks, or to the exterior will from which he acts, is his own, but only that which belongs to his interior thought and will. . when the first state, which is the state of the exteriors treated of in the preceding chapter, has been passed through, the man-spirit is let into the state of his interiors, or into the state of his interior will and its thought, in which he had been in the world when left to himself to think freely and without restraint. into this state he unconsciously glides, just as when in the world he withdraws the thought nearest to his speech, that is, from which he speaks, towards his interior thought and abides in the latter. therefore in this state of his interiors the man-spirit is in himself and in his very life; for to think freely from his own affection is the very life of man, and is himself. . in this state the spirit thinks from his very will, thus from his very affection, or from his very love; and thought and will then make one, and one in such a manner that he seems scarcely to think but only to will. it is nearly the same when he speaks, yet with the difference that he speaks with a kind of fear that the thoughts of the will may go forth naked, since by his social life in the world this has come to be a part of his will. . all men without exception are let into this state after death, because it is their spirit's own state. the former state is such as the man was in regard to his spirit when in company; and that is not his own state. that this state, namely, the state of the exteriors into which man first comes after death (as shown in the preceding chapter) is not his own state, many things show, for example, that spirits not only think but also speak from their affection, since their speech is from their affection (as has been said and shown in the chapter on the speech of angels, n. - ). it was in this way that man had thought while in the world when he was thinking within himself, for at such times his thought was not from his bodily words, but he [mentally] saw the things, and in a minute of time saw more than he could afterwards utter in half an hour. again that the state of the exteriors is not man's own state or the state of his spirit is evident from the fact that when he is in company in the world he speaks in accord with the laws of moral and civil life, and at such times interior thought rules the exterior thought, as one person rules another, to keep him from transgressing the limits of decorum and good manners. it is evident also from the fact that when a man thinks within himself, he thinks how he must speak and act in order to please and to secure friendship, good will, and favor, and this in extraneous ways, that is, otherwise than he would do if he acted in accordance with his own will. all this shows that the state of the interiors that the spirit is let into is his own state, and was his own state when he was living in the world as a man. . when the spirit is in the state of his interiors it becomes clearly evident what the man was in himself when he was in the world, for at such times he acts from what is his own. he that had been in the world interiorly in good then acts rationally and wisely, and even more wisely than in the world, because he is released from connection with the body, and thus from those earthly things that caused obscurity and interposed as it were a cloud. but he that was in evil in the world then acts foolishly and insanely, and even more insanely than in the world, because he is free and under no restraint. for while he lived in the world he was sane in outward appearance, since by means of externals he made himself appear to be a rational man; but when he has been stripped of his externals his insanities are revealed. an evil man who in externals takes on the semblance of a good man may be likened to a vessel shining and polished on the outside and covered with a lid, within which filth of all kinds is hidden, in accordance with the lord's saying: ye are like whited sepulchers, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men's bones and of all uncleanness (matt. : ). . all that have lived a good life in the world and have acted from conscience, who are such as have acknowledged the divine and have loved divine truths, especially such as have applied those truths to life, seem to themselves, when let into the state of their interiors, like one aroused from sleep into full wakefulness, or like one passing from darkness into light. they then think from the light of heaven, thus from an interior wisdom, and they act from good, thus from an interior affection. heaven flows into their thoughts and affections with an interior blessedness and delight that they had previously had no knowledge of; for they have communication with the angels of heaven. they then acknowledge the lord and worship him from their very life, for being in the state of their interiors they are in their proper life (as has been said just above, n. ); and as freedom pertains to interior affection they then acknowledge and worship the lord from freedom. thus, too, they withdraw from external sanctity and come into that internal sanctity in which worship itself truly consists. such is the state of those that have lived a christian life in accordance with the commandments in the word. [ ] but the state of those that have lived an evil life in the world and who have had no conscience, and have in consequence denied the divine, is the direct opposite of this. for everyone who lives an evil life, inwardly in himself denies the divine, however much he may suppose when in external thought that he acknowledges the lord and does not deny him; for acknowledging the divine and living an evil life are opposites. when such in the other life enter into the state of their interiors, and are heard speaking and seen acting, they appear foolish; for from their evil lusts they burst forth into all sorts of abominations, into contempt of others, ridicule and blasphemy, hatred and revenge; they plot intrigues, some with a cunning and malice that can scarcely be believed to be possible in any man. for they are then in a state of freedom to act in harmony with the thoughts of their will, since they are separated from the outward conditions that restrained and checked them in the world. in a word, they are deprived of their rationality, because their reason while they were in the world did not have its seat in their interiors, but in their exteriors; and yet they seemed to themselves to be wiser than others. [ ] this being their character, while in the second state they are let down by short intervals into the state of their exteriors, and into a recollection of their actions when they were in the state of their interiors; and some of them then feel ashamed, and confess that they have been insane; some do not feel ashamed; and some are angry because they are not permitted to remain permanently in the state of their exteriors. but these are shown what they would be if they were to continue in that state, namely, that they would attempt to accomplish in secret ways the same evil ends, and by semblances of goodness, honesty, and justice, would mislead the simple in heart and faith, and would utterly destroy themselves; for their exteriors would at length burn with the same fire as their interiors, and their whole life would be consumed. . when in this second state spirits become visibly just what they had been in themselves while in the world, what they then did and said secretly being now made manifest; for they are now restrained by no outward considerations, and therefore what they have said and done secretly they now say and endeavor to do openly, having no longer any fear of loss of reputation, such as they had in the world. they are also brought into many states of their evils, that what they are may be evident to angels and good spirits. thus are hidden things laid open and secret things uncovered, in accordance with the lord's words: there is nothing covered up that shall not be revealed, and hid that shall not be known. whatsoever ye have said in the darkness shall be heard in the light, and what ye have spoken in the ear in the inner chambers shall be proclaimed on the housetops (luke : , ). and elsewhere: i say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment (matt. : ). . the nature of the wicked in this state cannot be described in a few words, for each one is insane in accord with his own lusts, and these are various; therefore i will merely mention some special instances from which conclusions may be formed respecting the rest. those that have loved themselves above everything, and in their occupations and employments have looked to their own honor, and have performed uses and found delight in them not for the use's sake but for the sake of reputation, that they might because of them be esteemed more worthy than others, and have thus been fascinated by their reputation for honor, are more stupid in this second state than others; for so far as one loves himself he is separated from heaven, and so far as he is separated from heaven he is separated from wisdom. [ ] but those that have not only been in self-love but have been crafty also, and have raised themselves to honors by means of crafty practices, affiliate themselves with the worst of spirits, and learn magic arts, which are abuses of divine order, and by means of these they assail and infest all who do not honor them, laying snares, fomenting hatred, burning with revenge, and are eager to vent their rage on all who do not yield to them; and they rush into all these enormities so far as their fiendish companions favor them; and at length they meditate upon how they can climb up into heaven to destroy it, or be worshiped there as gods. to such length does their madness carry them. [ ] papists of this character are more insane than the rest, for they cherish the notion that heaven and hell are subject to their power, and that they can remit sins at pleasure, claiming to themselves all that is divine, and calling themselves christ. this persuasion is such with them that wherever it flows in it disturbs the mind and induces darkness even to pain. such are nearly the same in both the first and the second state; but in the second they are without rationality. of their insanities and their lot after this state some particulars will be given in the treatise on the last judgement and the destruction of babylon. [ ] those that have attributed creation to nature, and have therefore in heart if not with the lips denied the divine, and thus all things of the church and of heaven, affiliate with their like in this second state, and call everyone a god who excels in craftiness, worshiping him even with divine honors. i have seen such in an assembly adoring a magician, debating about nature, and behaving like fools, as if they were beasts under a human form, while among them there were some who in the world had been in stations of dignity, and some who had been esteemed learned and wise. so with others in other states. [ ] from these few instances it may be inferred what those are who have the interiors of their minds closed heaven-wards, as is the case with all who have received no influx out of heaven through acknowledgment of the divine and a life of faith. everyone can judge from himself how he would act if, being such, he were left free to act with no fear of the law and no fear in regard to his life, and with no outward restraints, such as fear of injury to one's reputation or of loss of honor and gain and consequent pleasures. [ ] nevertheless, the insanity of such is restrained by the lord that it may not rush beyond the limits of use; for even such spirits perform some use. in them good spirits see what evil is and its nature, and what man is when he is not led by the lord. another of their uses is their collecting together evil spirits like themselves and separating them from the good; and another, that the truths and goods that the evil had outwardly professed and feigned are taken away from them, and they are brought into the evils of their life and the falsities of their evil, and are thus prepared for hell. [ ] for no one enters hell until he is in his own evil and the falsities of evil, since no one is permitted there to have a divided mind, that is, to think and speak one thing and to will another. every evil spirit there must think what is false from evil, and speak from the falsity of evil, in both respects from the will, thus from his own essential love and its delight and pleasure, in the same way that he thought while in the world when he was in his spirit, that is, in the same way as he thought in himself when he thought from interior affection. the reason is that the will is the man himself, and not the thought except so far as it partakes of the will, the will being the very nature itself or disposition of the man. therefore man's being let into his will is being let into his nature or disposition, and likewise into his life; for by his life man puts on a nature; and after death he continues to be such as the nature is that he has acquired by his life in the world; and with the evil this nature can no longer be amended and changed by means of the thought or by the understanding of truth. . when evil spirits are in this second state, as they rush into evils of every kind they are subjected to frequent and grievous punishments. in the world of spirits there are many kinds of punishment; and there is no regard for person, whether one had been in the world a king or a servant. every evil carries its punishment with it, the two making one; therefore whoever is in evil is also in the punishment of evil. and yet no one in the other world suffers punishment on account of the evils that he had done in this world, but only on account of the evils that he then does; although it amounts to the same and is the same thing whether it be said that men suffer punishment on account of their evils in the world or that they suffer punishment on account of the evils they do in the other life, since everyone after death returns into his own life and thus into like evils; and the man continues the same as he had been in the life of the body (n. - ). men are punished for the reason that the fear of punishment is the sole means of subduing evils in this state. exhortation is no longer of any avail, neither is instruction or fear of the law and of the loss of reputation, since everyone then acts from his nature; and that nature can be restrained and broken only by punishments. but good spirits, although they had done evils in the world, are never punished, because their evils do not return. moreover, i have learned that the evils they did were of a different kind or nature, not being done purposely in opposition to the truth, or from any other badness of heart than that which they received by inheritance from their parents, and that they were borne into this by a blind delight when they were in externals separate from internals. . everyone goes to his own society in which his spirit had been in the world; for every man, as regards his spirit, is conjoined to some society, either infernal or heavenly, the evil man to an infernal society and the good man to a heavenly society, and to that society he is brought after death (see n. ). the spirit is led to his society gradually, and at length enters it. when an evil spirit is in the state of his interiors he is turned by degrees toward his own society, and at length, before that state is ended, directly to it; and when that state is ended he himself casts himself into the hell where those are who are like himself. this act of casting down appears to the sight like one falling headlong with the head downwards and the feet upwards. the cause of this appearance is that the spirit himself is in an inverted order, having loved infernal things and rejected heavenly things. in this second state some evil spirits enter the hells and come out again by turns; but these do not appear to fall headlong as those do that are fully vastated. moreover, the society itself in which they had been as regards their spirit while in the world is shown to them when they are in the state of their exteriors, that they may thus learn that even while in the life of the body they were in hell, although not in the same state as those that are in hell itself, but in the same state as those who are in the world of spirits. of this state, as compared with those that are in hell, more will be said hereafter. . in this second state the separation of evil spirits from good spirits takes place. for in the first state they are together, since while a spirit is in his exteriors he is as he was in the world, thus the evil with the good and the good with the evil; but it is otherwise when he has been brought into his interiors and left to his own nature or will. the separation of evil spirits from good spirits is effected by various means; in general by their being taken about to those societies with which in their first state they had communication by means of their good thoughts and affections, thus to those societies that they had induced to believe by outward appearances that they were not evil. usually they are led about through a wide circle, and everywhere what they really are is made manifest to good spirits. at the sight of them the good spirits turn away; and at the same time the evil spirits who are being led about turn their faces away from the good towards that quarter where their infernal society is, into which they are about to come. other methods of separation, which are many, will not now be mentioned. . liii. third state of man after death, which is a state of instruction for those who enter heaven. the third state of man after death, that is, of his spirit, is a state of instruction. this state is for those who enter heaven and become angels. it is not for those who enter hell, because such are incapable of being taught, and therefore their second state is also their third, ending in this, that they are wholly turned to their own love, thus to that infernal society which is in a like love. when this has been done they will and think from that love and as that love is infernal they will nothing but what is evil and think nothing but what is false; and in such thinking and willing they find their delights, because these belong to their love; and in consequence of this they reject everything good and true which they had previously adopted as serviceable to their love as means. [ ] good spirits, on the other hand, are led from the second state into the third, which is the state of their preparation for heaven by means of instruction. for one can be prepared for heaven only by means of knowledges of good and truth, that is, only by means of instruction, since one can know what spiritual good and truth are, and what evil and falsity are, which are their opposites, only by being taught. one can learn in the world what civil and moral good and truth are, which are called justice and honesty, because there are civil laws in the world that teach what is just, and there is interaction with others whereby man learns to live in accordance with moral laws, all of which have relation to what is honest and right. but spiritual good and truth are learned from heaven, not from the world. they can be learned from the word and from the doctrine of the church that is drawn from the word and yet unless man in respect to his interiors which belong to his mind is in heaven spiritual good and truth cannot flow into his life; and man is in heaven when he both acknowledges the divine and acts justly and honestly for the reason that he ought so to act because it is commanded in the word. this is living justly and honestly for the sake of the divine, and not for the sake of self and the world, as ends. [ ] but no one can so act until he has been taught, for example, that there is a god, that there is a heaven and a hell, that there is a life after death, that god ought to be loved supremely, and the neighbor as oneself, and that what is taught in the word, ought to be believed because the word is divine. without a knowledge and acknowledgment of these things man is unable to think spiritually; and if he has no thought about them he does not will them; for what a man does not know he cannot think, and what he does not think he cannot will. so it is when man wills these things that heaven flows into his life, that is, the lord through heaven, for the lord flows into the will and through the will into the thought, and through both into the life, and the whole life of man is from these. all this makes clear that spiritual good and truth are learned not from the world but from heaven, and that one can be prepared for heaven only by means of instruction. [ ] moreover, so far as the lord flows into the life of any one he instructs him, for so far he kindles the will with the love of knowing truths and enlightens the thought to know them; and so far as this is done the interiors of man are opened and heaven is implanted in them; and furthermore, what is divine and heavenly flows into the honest things pertaining to moral life and into the just things pertaining to civil life in man, and makes them spiritual, since man then does these things from the divine, which is doing them for the sake of the divine. for the things honest and just pertaining to moral and civil life which a man does from that source are the essential effects of spiritual life; and the effect derives its all from the effecting cause, since such as the cause is such is the effect. . instruction is given by the angels of many societies, especially those in the northern and southern quarters, because those angelic societies are in intelligence and wisdom from a knowledge of good and truth. the places of instruction are towards the north and are various, arranged and distinguished according to the kinds and varieties of heavenly goods, that all and each may be instructed there according to their disposition and ability to receive; the places extending round about to a great distance. the good spirits who are to be instructed are brought by the lord to these places when they have completed their second state in the world of spirits, and yet not all; for there are some that have been instructed in the world, and have been prepared there by the lord for heaven, and these are taken up into heaven by another way-some immediately after death, some after a short stay with good spirits, where the grosser things of their thoughts and affections which they had contracted from honors and riches in the world are removed, and in that way they are purified. some first endure vastations, which is effected in places under the soles of the feet, called the lower earth, where some suffer severely. these are such as had confirmed themselves in falsities and yet had led good lives, for when falsities have been confirmed they inhere with much force, and until they have been dispersed truths cannot be seen, and thus cannot be accepted. but vastations and how they are effected have been treated of in the arcana coelestia, from which the notes below have been collected.{ } {footnote } vastations are effected in the other life, that is, those that pass into the other life from the world are vastated (n. , , , ). the well disposed are vastated in respect to falsities, while the evil are vastated in respect to truths (n, , , ). the well disposed undergo vastations that they also may be divested of what pertains to the earth and the world, which they had contracted while living in the world (n. , ). also that evils and falsities may be removed, and thus there may be room for the influx of goods and truths out of heaven from the lord, and ability to accept these (n. , ). elevation into heaven is impossible until such things have been removed, because they obstruct heavenly things and are not in harmony with them (n. , , , , , ). those who are to be raised up into heaven are thus prepared for it (n. , ). it is dangerous to come into heaven before being prepared (n. , ). the state of enlightenment and the joy of those who come out of vastation and are raised up into heaven, and their reception there (n. , , ). the region where those vastations are effected is called the lower earth (n. , ). that region is under the soles of the feet surrounded by the hells; its nature described (n. - , ); from experience (n. ). what the hells are which more than others infest and vastate (n. , , ). those that have infested and vastated the well disposed are afterwards afraid of them, shun them, and turn away from them (n. ). these infestations and vastations are effected in different ways in accordance with the adhesion of evils and falsities, and they continue in accordance with their quality and quantity (n. - ). some are quite willing to be vastated (n. ). some are vastated by fears (n. ). some by being infested with the evils they have done in the world, and with the falsities they have thought in the world, from which they have anxieties and pangs of conscience (n. ). some by spiritual captivity, which is ignorance of truth and interception of truth, combined with a longing to know truths (n. , ). some by sleep; some by a middle state between wakefulness and sleep (n. ). those that have placed merit in works seem to themselves to be cutting wood (n. ). others in other ways, with great variety (n. ). . all who are in places of instruction dwell apart; for each one is connected in regard to his interiors with that society of heaven which he is about to enter; thus as the societies of heaven are arranged in accord with the heavenly form (see above, n. - ), so are the places there where instruction is given; and for this reason when those places are viewed from heaven something like a heaven in a smaller form is seen. they are spread out in length from east to west, and in breadth from south to north; but the breadth appears to be less than the length. the arrangement in general is as follows. in front are those who died in childhood and have been brought up in heaven to the age of early youth; these after passing the state of their infancy with those having charge of them, are brought hither by the lord and instructed. behind these are the places where those are taught who died in adult age, and who in the world had an affection for truth derived from good of life. again, behind these are those who in the world were connected with the mohammedan religion, and lived a moral life and acknowledged one divine, and the lord as the very prophet. when these withdraw from mohammed, because he can give them no help, they approach the lord and worship him and acknowledge his divinity, and they are then instructed in the christian religion. behind these more to the north are the places of instruction of various heathen nations who in the world have lived a good life in conformity with their religion, and have thereby acquired a kind of conscience, and have done what is just and right not so much from a regard to the laws of their government, as from a regard to the laws of religion, which they believed ought to be sacredly observed, and in no way violated by their doings. when these have been taught they are all easily led to acknowledge the lord, because it is impressed on their hearts that god is not invisible, but is visible under a human form. these in number exceed all the rest, and the best of them are from africa. . but all are not taught in the same way, nor by the same societies of heaven. those that have been brought up from childhood in heaven, not having imbibed falsities from the falsities of religion or defiled their spiritual life with the dregs pertaining to honors and riches in the world, receive instruction from the angels of the interior heavens; while those that have died in adult age receive instruction mainly from angels of the lowest heaven, because these angels are better suited to them than the angels of the interior heavens, who are in interior wisdom which is not yet acceptable to them. but the mohammedans receive instruction from angels who had been previously in the same religion and had been converted to christianity. the heathen, too, are taught by their angels. . all teaching there is from doctrine drawn from the word, and not from the word apart from doctrine. christians are taught from heavenly doctrine, which is in entire agreement with the internal sense of the word. all others, as the mohammedans and heathen, are taught from doctrines suited to their apprehension, which differ from heavenly doctrine only in this, that spiritual life is taught by means of moral life in harmony with the good tenets of their religion from which they had derived their life in the world. . instruction in the heavens differs from instruction on earth in that knowledges are not committed to memory, but to life; for the memory of spirits is in their life, for they receive and imbibe everything that is in harmony with their life, and do not receive, still less imbibe, what is not in harmony with it; for spirits are affections, and are therefore in a human form that is similar to their affections. [ ] being such they are constantly animated by an affection for truth that looks to the uses of life; for the lord provides for everyone's loving the uses suited to his genius; and that love is exalted by the hope of becoming an angel. and as all the uses of heaven have relation to the general use, which is the good of the lord's kingdom, which in heaven is the fatherland, and as all special and particular uses are to be valued in proportion as they more closely and fully have regard to that general use, so all of these special and particular uses, which are innumerable, are good and heavenly; therefore in everyone an affection for truth is so conjoined with an affection for use that the two make one; and thereby truth is so implanted in use that the truths they acquire are truths of use. in this way are angelic spirits taught and prepared for heaven. [ ] an affection for truth that is suited to the use is insinuated by various means, most of which are unknown in the world; chiefly by representatives of uses which in the spiritual world are exhibited in a thousand ways, and with such delights and pleasures that they permeate the spirit from the interiors of its mind to the exteriors of its body, and thus affect the whole; and in consequence the spirit becomes as it were his use; and therefore when he comes into his society, into which he is initiated by instruction, he is in his life by being in his use.{ } from all this it is clear that knowledges, which are external truths, do not bring any one into heaven; but the life itself, which is a life of uses implanted by means of knowledges. {footnote } every good has both its delight and its quality from uses and in accordance with uses; therefore such as the good is such the use is (n. , , ). angelic life consists in the goods of love and charity, thus in performing uses (n. ). the lord and therefore the angels, have regard to nothing in man but ends which are uses (n. , , ). the kingdom of the lord is a kingdom of uses (n. , , , , , ). serving the lord is performing uses (n. ). what man is, such are his uses (n. , , , , , , ). . there were some spirits who had convinced themselves, by thinking about it in the world, that they would go to heaven and be received before others because of their learning and their great knowledge of the word and of the doctrines of their churches, believing that they were wise in consequence, and were such as are meant by those of whom it is said that they shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars (daniel : ). but these were examined to see whether their knowledges resided in the memory or in the life. such of them as had a genuine affection of truth, that is, who had uses separated from what pertains to the body and the world as their end, which are essentially spiritual uses--these, when they had been instructed, were received into heaven; and it was then given them to know what it is that shines in heaven, namely, divine truth (which is the light of heaven) in use, which is a plane that receives the rays of that light and turns them into various splendors. but those in whom knowledges resided merely in the memory, and who had acquired therefrom an ability to reason about truths and to prove what they had already accepted as principles, seeing such principles, after they had confirmed them, as truths, although they were falsities, these, as they were in no heavenly light, and yet were in a belief derived from the conceit that usually adheres to such intelligence that they were more learned than others, and would for that reason enter heaven and be served by the angels, in order that they might be withdrawn from their delusive faith, were taken up to the first or outmost heaven to be introduced into an angelic society. but at the very threshold their eyes began to be darkened by the inflowing of the light of heaven, and their understanding to be disturbed, and at length they began to gasp as if at the point of death; and as soon as they felt the heat of heaven, which is heavenly love, they began to be inwardly tormented. they were therefore cast down, and afterwards were taught that knowledges do not make an angel, but the life itself, which is gained by means of knowledges, for knowledges regarded in themselves are outside of heaven; but life acquired by means of knowledges is within heaven. . when spirits have been prepared for heaven by instruction in the places above described, which is effected in a short time on account of their being in spiritual ideas that comprehend many particulars together, they are clothed with angelic garments, which are mostly glowing white as if made of fine linen; and they are thus brought to the way that leads upwards towards heaven, and are delivered there to angel guards, and afterwards are received by other angels and introduced into societies and into many blessednesses there. after this each one is led by the lord into his own society, which is also effected by various ways, sometimes by winding paths. the ways by which they are led are not known to any angel, but are known to the lord alone. when they come to their own society their interiors are opened; and as these are in conformity with the interiors of the angels who are in that society they are immediately recognized and received with joy. . to this i will add a memorable fact respecting the ways that lead from these places to heaven, by which the newly arrived angels are introduced. there are eight ways, two from each place of instruction, one going up in an eastern direction the other towards the west. those that enter the lord's celestial kingdom are introduced by the eastern way, while those that enter the spiritual kingdom are introduced by the western way. the four ways that lead to the lord's celestial kingdom appear adorned with olive trees and fruit trees of various kinds; but those that lead to the lord's spiritual kingdom appear adorned with vines and laurels. this is from correspondence, because vines and laurels correspond to affection for truth and its uses, while olives and fruits correspond to affection for good and its uses. . liv. no one enters heaven by mercy apart from means. those that have not been instructed about heaven and the way to heaven, and about the life of heaven in man, suppose that being received into heaven is a mere matter of mercy, and is granted to those that have faith, and for whom the lord intercedes; thus that it is an admission from mere favor; consequently that all men without exception might be saved if the lord so pleased, and some even believe that all in hell might be so saved. but those who so think know nothing about man, that he is just such as his life is, and that his life is such as his love is, both in respect to the interiors pertaining to his will and understanding and in respect to the exteriors pertaining to his body; also that his bodily form is merely the external form in which the interiors exhibit themselves in effect; consequently that one's love is the whole man (see above, n. ). nor do they know that the body lives not from itself, but from its spirit, and that a man's spirit is his essential affection, and his spiritual body is nothing else than his affection in human form, and in such a form it appears after death (see above, n. - ). so long as man remains ignorant of all this he may be induced to believe that salvation involves nothing but the divine good pleasure, which is called mercy and grace. . but first let us consider what the divine mercy is. the divine mercy is pure mercy towards the whole human race, to save it; and it is also unceasing towards every man, and is never withdrawn from any one; so that everyone is saved who can be saved. and yet no one can be saved except by divine means, which means the lord reveals in the word. the divine means are what are called divine truths, which teach how man must live in order to be saved. by these truths the lord leads man to heaven, and by them he implants in man the life of heaven. this the lord does for all. but the life of heaven can be implanted in no one unless he abstains from evil, for evil obstructs. so far, therefore, as man abstains from evil he is led by the lord out of pure mercy by his divine means, and this from infancy to the end of his life in the world and afterwards to eternity. this is what is meant by the divine mercy. and from this it is evident that the mercy of the lord is pure mercy, but not apart from means, that is, it does not look to saving all out of mere good pleasure, however they may have lived. . the lord never does anything contrary to order, because he himself is order. the divine truth that goes forth from the lord is what constitutes order; and divine truths are the laws of order. it is in accord with these laws that the lord leads man. consequently to save man by mercy apart from means would be contrary to divine order, and what is contrary to divine order is contrary to the divine. divine order is heaven in man, and man has perverted this in himself by a life contrary to the laws of order, which are divine truths. into this order man is brought back by the lord out of pure mercy by means of the laws of order; and so far as he is brought back into this order he receives heaven in himself; and he that receives heaven in himself enters heaven. this again makes evident that the lord's divine mercy is pure mercy, and not mercy apart from means.{ } {footnote } divine truth going forth from the lord is the source of order, and divine good is the essential of order (n. , , , ). thus the lord is order (n. , , , , , ). divine truths are the laws of order (n. , ). the whole heaven is arranged by the lord in accordance with his divine order (n. , , , , , , ). therefore the form of heaven is a form in accord with the divine order (n. - , , ). so far as a man is living in accordance with order, that is, so far as he is living in good in accordance with divine truths, he is receiving heaven in himself (n. ). man is the being in whom are brought together all things of divine order, and by creation he is divine order in form, because he is a recipient of divine order (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). man is not born into good and truth but into evil and falsity, thus not into divine order but into the opposite of order, and for this reason he is born into pure ignorance; consequently it is necessary for him to be born anew, that is, to be regenerated, which is effected by the lord by means of divine truths, that he may be brought back into order (n. , , , , , , , , , ). when the lord forms man anew, that is, regenerates him, he arranges all things in him in harmony with order, that is, in the form of heaven (n. , , , ). evils and falsities are contrary to order; nevertheless those who are in them are ruled by the lord not in accordance with order but from order (n. , , ). it is impossible for a man who lives in evil to be saved by mercy alone, for that would be contrary to divine order (n. ). . if men could be saved by mercy apart from means all would be saved, even those in hell; in fact, there would be no hell, because the lord is mercy itself, love itself, and goodness itself. therefore it is inconsistent with his divine to say that he is able to save all apart from means and does not save them. it is known from the word that the lord wills the salvation of all, and the damnation of no one. . most of those who enter the other life from the christian world bring with them this belief that they can be saved by mercy apart from means, and pray for that mercy; but when examined they are found to believe that entering heaven is merely gaining admission, and that those who are let in are in heavenly joy. they are wholly ignorant of what heaven is and what heavenly joy is, and consequently are told that the lord denies heaven to no one, and that they can be admitted and can stay there if they desire it. those who so desired were admitted; but as soon as they reached the first threshold they were seized with such anguish of heart from a draught of heavenly heat, which is the love in which angels are, and from an inflow of heavenly light, which is divine truth, that they felt in themselves infernal torment instead of heavenly joy, and struck with dismay they cast themselves down headlong. thus they were taught by living experience that it is impossible to grant heaven to any one from mercy apart from means. . i have occasionally talked with angels about this, and have told them that most of those in the world who live in evil, when they talk with others about heaven and eternal life, express no other idea than that entering heaven is merely being admitted from mercy alone. and this is believed by those especially who make faith the only medium of salvation. for such from the principles of their religion have no regard to the life and the deeds of love that make life, and thus to none of the other means by which the lord implants heaven in man and renders him receptive of heavenly joy; and as they thus reject every actual mediation they conclude, as a necessary consequence of the principle, that man enters heaven from mercy alone, to which mercy god the father is believed to be moved by the intercession of the son. [ ] to all this the angels said that they knew such a tenet follows of necessity from the assumption that man is saved by faith alone, and since that tenet is the head of all the rest, and since into it, because it is not true, no light from heaven can flow, this is the source of the ignorance that prevails in the church at this day in regard to the lord, heaven, the life after death, heavenly joy, the essence of love and charity, and in general, in regard to good and its conjunction with truth, consequently in regard to the life of man, whence it is and what it is; when it should be known that thought never constitutes any one's life, but the will and the consequent deeds; and that the life is from the thought only to the extent that the thought is derived from the will; neither is life from the faith except so far as the faith is derived from love. angels are grieved that these persons do not know that faith alone is impossible in any one, since faith apart from its origin, which is love, is nothing but knowledge, and in some is merely a sort of persuasion that has the semblance of faith (see above, n. ). such a persuasion is not in the life of man, but outside of it, since it is separated from man unless it coheres with his love. [ ] the angels said further that those who hold to this principle concerning the essential means of salvation in man must needs believe in mercy apart from means, for they perceive both from natural light and from the experience of sight that faith separate does not constitute the life of man, since those who lead an evil life are able to think and to be persuaded the same as others; and from this comes the belief that the evil as well as the good can be saved, provided that at the hour of death they talk with confidence about intercession, and about the mercy that is granted through that intercession. the angels declared that they had never yet seen any one who had lived an evil life received into heaven from mercy apart from means, whatever trust or confidence (which is preeminently meant by faith) he had exhibited in his talk in the world. [ ] when asked about abraham, isaac, jacob, david, and the apostles, whether they were not received into heaven from mercy apart from means, the angels replied that not one of them was so received, but everyone in accordance with his life in the world; that they knew where these were, and that they were no more esteemed there than others. they said that these persons are mentioned with honor in the word for the reason that in the internal sense the lord is meant by them--by abraham, isaac, and jacob, the lord in respect to the divine and the divine human; by david the lord in respect to the divine royalty; and by the apostles the lord in respect to divine truths; also that when the word is read by man the angels have no perception whatever of these men, for their names do not enter heaven; but they have instead a perception of the lord as he has just been described; consequently in the word that is in heaven (see above, n. ) there are no such names mentioned, since that word is the internal sense of the word that is in the world.{ } {footnote } in the internal sense of the word by abraham, isaac, and jacob, the lord in respect to the divine itself and the divine human is meant (n. , , , , , , ). in heaven abraham is unknown (n. , , ). by david the lord in respect to the divine royalty is meant (n. , ). the twelve apostles represented the lord in respect to all things of the church, that is, all things pertaining to faith and love (n. , , , , ). peter represented the lord in respect to faith, james in respect to charity, and john in respect to the works of charity (n. , ). the twelve apostles sitting on twelve thrones and judging the twelve tribes of israel, signified that the lord will judge in accord with the truths and goods of faith and love (n. , ). the names of persons and of places in the word do not enter heaven, but are changed into things and states; and in heaven these names cannot even be uttered (n. , , , , , ). moreover, the angels think abstractedly from persons (n. , , ). . i can testify from much experience that it is impossible to implant the life of heaven in those who in the world have lived a life opposite to the life of heaven. there were some who had believed that when after death they should hear divine truths from the angels they would readily accept them and believe them, and consequently live a different life, and could thus be received into heaven. but this was tried with very many, although it was confined to those who held this belief, and was permitted in their case to teach them that repentance is not possible after death. some of those with whom the experiment was made understood truths and seemed to accept them; but as soon as they turned to the life of their love they rejected them, and even spoke against them. others were unwilling to hear them, and at once rejected them. others wished to have the life of love that they had contracted from the world taken away from them, and to have the angelic life, or the life of heaven, infused in its place. this, too, was permitted to be done; but as soon as the life of their love was taken away they lay as if dead, with their powers gone. by these and other experiments the simple good were taught that no one's life can by any means be changed after death; and that an evil life can in no way be converted into a good life, or an infernal life into an angelic life, for every spirit from head to heel is such as his love is, and therefore such as his life is; and to convert his life into its opposite is to destroy the spirit completely. the angels declare that it would be easier to change a night-owl into a dove, or a horned-owl into a bird of paradise, than to change an infernal spirit into an angel of heaven. that man after death continues to be such as his life had been in the world can be seen above in its own chapter (n. - ). from all this it is evident that no one can be received into heaven from mercy apart from means. . lv. it is not so difficult to live the life that leads to heaven as is believed. there are some who believe that to live the life that leads to heaven, which is called the spiritual life, is difficult, because they have been told that man must renounce the world, must divest himself of the lusts called the lusts of the body and the flesh, and must live spiritually; and they understand this to mean that they must discard worldly things, which consist chiefly in riches and honors; that they must walk continually in pious meditation on god, salvation, and eternal life; and must spend their life in prayers and in reading the word and pious books. such is their idea of renouncing the world, and living in the spirit and not in the flesh. but that this is not at all true it has been given me to know by much experience and from conversation with the angels. i have learned, in fact, that those who renounce the world and live in the spirit in this manner acquire a sorrowful life that is not receptive of heavenly joy, since everyone's life continues the same after death. on the contrary, to receive the life of heaven a man must needs live in the world and engage in its business and employments, and by means of a moral and civil life there receive the spiritual life. in no other way can the spiritual life be formed in man, or his spirit prepared for heaven; for to live an internal life and not at the same time an external life is like dwelling in a house that has no foundation, that gradually sinks or becomes cracked and rent asunder, or totters till it falls. . when the life of man is scanned and explored by rational insight it is found to be threefold, namely, spiritual, moral, and civil, with these three lives distinct from each other. for there are men who live a civil life and not as yet a moral and spiritual life; and there are men who live a moral life and not as yet a spiritual life; and there are those who live a civil life, a moral life, and a spiritual life at the same time. these live the life of heaven; but the former live the life of the world separated from the life of heaven. this shows, in the first place, that the spiritual life is not a life separated from natural life or the life of the world, but is joined with it as the soul is joined with its body, and if it were separated it would be, as was said, like living in a house that has no foundation. for moral and civil life is the active plane of the spiritual life, since to will well is the province of the spiritual life, and to act well of the moral and civil life, and if the latter is separated from the former the spiritual life consists solely of thought and speech, and the will, left with no support, recedes; and yet the will is the very spiritual part of man. . that it is not so difficult as some believe to live the life that leads to heaven will now be shown. who cannot live a civil and moral life? for everyone from his childhood is initiated into that life, and learns what it is by living in the world. moreover, everyone, whether evil or good, lives that life; for who does not wish to be called honest, and who does not wish to be called just? almost everyone practices honesty and justice outwardly, so far as to seem to be honest and just at heart, or to seem to act from real honesty and justice. the spiritual man ought to live in like manner, and can do so as easily as the natural man can, with this difference only, that the spiritual man believes in the divine, and acts honestly and justly, not solely because to so act is in accord with civil and moral laws, but also because it is in accord with divine laws. as the spiritual man, in whatever he is doing, thinks about divine things, he has communication with the angels of heaven; and so far as this takes place he is conjoined with them; and thereby his internal man, which regarded in itself is the spiritual man, is opened. when man comes into this state he is adopted and led by the lord, although himself unconscious of it, and then whatever he does that is honest and just pertaining to moral and civil life, is done from a spiritual motive; and doing what is honest and just from a spiritual motive is doing it from honesty and justice itself, or doing it from the heart. [ ] his justice and honesty appear outwardly precisely the same as the justice and honesty of natural men and even of evil and infernal men; but in inward form they are wholly unlike. for evil men act justly and honestly solely for the sake of themselves and the world; and therefore if they had no fear of laws and penalties, or the loss of reputation, of honor, of gain, and of life, they would act in every respect dishonestly and unjustly, since they neither fear god nor any divine law, and therefore are not restrained by any internal bond; consequently they would use every opportunity to defraud, plunder, and spoil others, and this from delight. that inwardly they are such can be clearly seen from those of the same character in the other life, while everyone's externals are taken away, and his internals in which he at last lives to eternity are opened (see above, n. - ). as such then act without external restraints, which are, as just said, fear of the law, of the loss of reputation, of honor, of gain, and of life, they act insanely, and laugh at honesty and justice. [ ] but those who have acted honestly and justly from regard to divine laws, when their externals are taken away and they are left to their internals, act wisely, because they are conjoined to the angels of heaven, from whom wisdom is communicated to them. from all this it can now be seen, in the first place, that when the internal man, that is, the will and thought, are conjoined to the divine, the civil and moral life of the spiritual man may be wholly like the civil and moral life of the natural man (see above, n. - ). . furthermore, the laws of spiritual life, the laws of civil life, and the laws of moral life are set forth in the ten commandments of the decalogue; in the first three the laws of spiritual life, in the four that follow the laws of civil life, and in the last three the laws of moral life. outwardly the merely natural man lives in accordance with the same commandments in the same way as the spiritual man does, for in like manner he worships the divine, goes to church, listens to preachings, and assumes a devout countenance, refrains from committing murder, adultery, and theft, from bearing false witness, and from defrauding his companions of their goods. but all this he does merely for the sake of himself and the world, to keep up appearances; while inwardly such a person is the direct opposite of what he appears outwardly, since in heart he denies the divine, in worship acts the hypocrite, and when left to himself and his own thoughts laughs at the holy things of the church, believing that they merely serve as a restraint for the simple multitude. [ ] consequently he is wholly disjoined from heaven, and not being a spiritual man he is neither a moral man nor a civil man. for although he refrains from committing murder he hates everyone who opposes him, and from his hatred burns with revenge, and would therefore commit murder if he were not restrained by civil laws and external bonds, which he fears; and as he longs to do so it follows that he is continually committing murder. although he does not commit adultery, yet as he believes it to be allowable he is all the while an adulterer, since he commits adultery to the extent that he has the ability and as often as he has opportunity. although he does not steal, yet as he covets the goods of others and does not regard fraud and wicked devices as opposed to what is lawful, in intent he is continually acting the thief. the same is true of the commandments relating to moral life, which forbid false witness and coveting the goods of others. such is every man who denies the divine, and who has no conscience derived from religion. that he is such is clearly evident from those of like character in the other life when their externals have been removed and they are let into their internals. as they are then separated from heaven they act in unity with hell, and in consequence are affiliated with those who are in hell. [ ] it is not so with those who in heart have acknowledged the divine, and in the actions of their lives have had respect to divine laws, and have lived as fully in accord with the first three commandments of the decalogue as they have in accordance with the others. when the externals of such are removed and they are let into their internals they are wiser than they were in the world; for entering into their internals is like entering from darkness into light, from ignorance into wisdom, and from a sorrowful life into a happy life, because they are in the divine, thus in heaven. this has been said to make known what the one kind of man is and what the other is, although they have both lived the same external life. . everyone may know that thoughts are led or tend in accord with the intentions, that is, in the directions that one intends; for thought is man's internal sight, and resembles the external sight in this, that to whatever point it is directed or aimed, thither it turns and there it rests. therefore when the internal sight or the thought is turned towards the world and rests there, the thought in consequence becomes worldly; when it turns to self and self-honor it becomes corporeal; but when it is turned heavenwards it becomes heavenly. so, too, when turned heavenwards it is elevated; but when turned selfward it is drawn down from heaven and immersed in what is corporeal; and when turned towards the world it is also turned down-wards from heaven, and is spent upon those objects that are presented to the natural sight. [ ] man's love is what constitutes his intention and determines his internal sight or thought to its objects; thus the love of self fixes it upon self and its objects, the love of the world upon worldly objects, and the love of heaven upon heavenly objects; and when the love is known the state of the interiors which constitute the mind can be known, that is, the interiors of one who loves heaven are raised towards heaven and are opened above; while the interiors of one who loves the world or who loves himself are closed above and are opened outwardly. from this the conclusion follows that when the higher regions of the mind are closed above, man can no longer see the objects pertaining to heaven and the church, but those objects are in thick darkness to him; and what is in thick darkness is either denied or not understood. and this is why those that love themselves and the world above all things since the higher regions of their minds are closed, in heart deny divine truths; and if from their memory they say anything about them they nevertheless do not understand them. moreover, they regard them in the same way as they regard worldly and corporeal things. and being such they are able to direct the mind to those things only that enter through the senses of the body, and in these alone do they find delight. among these are also many things that are filthy, obscene, profane and wicked; and these cannot be removed, because into the minds of such no influx from heaven is possible, since their minds, as just now said, are closed above. [ ] man's intention, by which his internal sight or thought is determined, is his will; for what a man wills he intends, and what he intends he thinks. therefore when his intention is heavenward his thought is determined heavenward, and with it his whole mind, which is thus in heaven; and from heaven he beholds the things of the world beneath him like one looking down from the roof of a house. so the man that has the interiors of his mind open can see the evils and falsities that are in him, for these are beneath the spiritual mind. on the other hand, the man whose interiors are not open is unable to see his evils and falsities, because he is not above them but in them. from all this one may conclude whence man has wisdom and whence insanity, also what a man will be after death when he is left to will and think and to act and speak in accordance with his interiors. all this also has been said in order to make clear what constitutes a man's interior character, however he may seem outwardly to resemble others. . that it is not so difficult to live the life of heaven as some believe can now be seen from this, that when any thing presents itself to a man that he knows to be dishonest and unjust, but to which his mind is borne, it is simply necessary for him to think that it ought not to be done because it is opposed to the divine precepts. if a man accustoms himself so to think, and from so doing establishes a habit of so thinking, he is gradually conjoined to heaven; and so far as he is conjoined to heaven the higher regions of his mind are opened; and so far as these are opened he sees whatever is dishonest and unjust, and so far as he sees these evils they can be dispersed, for no evil can be dispersed until it is seen. into this state man is able to enter because of his freedom, for is not any one able from his freedom to so think? and when man has made a beginning the lord quickens all that is good in him, and causes him not only to see evils to be evils, but also to refrain from willing them, and finally to turn away from them. this is meant by the lord's words, my yoke is easy and my burden is light (matt. : ). but it must be understood that the difficulty of so thinking and of resisting evils increases so far as man from his will does evils, for in the same measure he becomes accustomed to them until he no longer sees them, and at length loves them and from the delight of his love excuses them, and confirms them by every kind of fallacy, and declares them to be allowable and good. this is the fate of those who in early youth plunge into evils without restraint, and also reject divine things from the heart. . the way that leads to heaven, and the way that leads to hell were once represented to me. there was a broad way tending towards the left or the north, and many spirits were seen going in it; but at a distance a large stone was seen where the broad way came to an end. from that stone two ways branched off, one to the left and one in the opposite direction to the right. the way that went to the left was narrow or straitened, leading through the west to the south, and thus into the light of heaven; the way that went to the right was broad and spacious, leading obliquely downwards towards hell. all at first seemed to be going the same way until they came to the large stone at the head of the two ways. when they reached that point they divided; the good turned to the left and entered the straitened way that led to heaven; while the evil, not seeing the stone at the fork of the ways fell upon it and were hurt; and when they rose up they ran on in the broad way to the right which went towards hell. [ ] what all this meant was afterwards explained to me. the first way that was broad, wherein many both good and evil went together and talked with each other as friends, because there was no visible difference between them, represented those who externally live alike honestly and justly, and between whom seemingly there is no difference. the stone at the head of the two ways or at the corner, upon which the evil fell and from which they ran into the way leading to hell, represented the divine truth, which is rejected by those who look towards hell; and in the highest sense this stone signified the lord's divine human. but those who acknowledged the divine truth and also the divine of the lord went by the way that led to heaven. by this again it was shown that in externals the evil lead the same kind of life as the good, or go the same way, that is, one as readily as the other; and yet those who from the heart acknowledge the divine, especially those within the church who acknowledge the divine of the lord, are led to heaven; while those who do not are led to hell. [ ] the thoughts of man that proceed from his intention or will are represented in the other life by ways; and ways are visibly presented there in exact accord with those thoughts of intention; and in accord with his thoughts that proceed from intention everyone walks. for this reason the character of spirits and their thoughts are known from their ways. this also makes clear what is meant by the lord's words: enter ye in through the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many be they that enter in thereby; for straitened is the way and narrow the gate that leadeth to life, and few be they who find it (matt. : , ). the way that leads to life is straitened not because it is difficult but because there are few who find it, as is said here. the stone seen at the corner where the broad and common way ended, and from which two ways were seen to lead in opposite directions, illustrated what is signified by these words of the lord: have ye not read what is written? the stone which the builders rejected was made the head of the corner. whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be broken (luke. : , ). "stone" signifies divine truth, and "the stone of israel" the lord in respect to his divine human; the "builders" mean those who are of the church; "the head of the corner" is where the two ways are; "to fall" and "to be broken" is to deny and perish.{ } {footnote } "stone" signifies truth (n. , , , , , , ). for this reason the law was inscribed on tables of stone (n. ). "the stone of israel" means the lord in respect to the divine truth and his divine human (n. ). . i have been permitted to talk with some in the other life who had withdrawn from worldly affairs that they might live in a pious and holy manner, also with some who had afflicted themselves in various ways, believing that they were thereby renouncing the world and subduing the lusts of the flesh. but as most of these have thus acquired a sorrowful life and had withdrawn from the life of charity, which life can be lived only in the midst of the world, they are incapable of being affiliated with angels, because the life of angels is a life of joy resulting from a state of blessedness, and consists in performing good deeds, which are works of charity. moreover, those who have lived a life withdrawn from worldly employments are inflamed with the idea of their own merit, and are continually desiring heaven on that account, and thinking of heavenly joy as a reward, utterly ignorant of what heavenly joy is. when such are admitted into the company of angels and into their joy, which discards merit and consists in active labors and practical services, and in a blessedness resulting from the good thereby accomplished, they are astonished like one who has found out something quite foreign to his belief; and since they are not receptive of that joy they go away and ally themselves with spirits of their own kind that have lived in the world a life like their own. [ ] but those who have lived an outwardly holy life, constantly attending church and praying and afflicting their souls, and at the same time have thought constantly of themselves that they would be esteemed and honored for all this above others, and finally after death would be accounted saints-- such in the other life are not in heaven because they have done all this for the sake of themselves. and as they have defiled divine truths by the self-love in which they have immersed them, some of them are so insane as to think themselves gods; and are consequently in hell among those like themselves. some are cunning and deceitful, and are in the hells of the deceitful. these are such as by means of cunning arts and devices have maintained such pious conduct as induced the common people to believe that they possessed a divine sanctity. [ ] of this character are many of the roman catholic saints. i have been permitted to talk with some of them, and their life was then plainly disclosed, such as it had been in the world and as it was afterwards. all this has been said to make known that the life that leads to heaven is not a life withdrawn from the world, but a life in the world; and that a life of piety separated from a life of charity, which is possible only in the world, does not lead to heaven; but a life of charity does; and a life of charity consists in acting honestly and justly in every employment, in every business, and in every work, from an interior, that is, from a heavenly, motive; and this motive is in that life whenever man acts honestly and justly because doing so is in accord with the divine laws. such a life is not difficult. but a life of piety separate from a life of charity is difficult; and as much as such a life is believed to lead towards heaven so much it leads away from heaven.{ } {footnote } a life of piety separated from a life of charity is of no avail, but united with charity it is profitable for all things (n. , ). charity to the neighbor consists in doing what is good, just, and right in every work and in every employment (n. - ). charity to the neighbor takes in all things and each thing that a man thinks, wills, and does (n. ). a life of charity is a life in accordance with the lord's commandments (n. ). living in accordance with the lord's commandments is loving the lord (n. , , , , ). genuine charity claims no merit, because it is from interior affection and consequent delight (n. , , , , , - ). man continues to be after death such as was his life of charity in the world (n. ). heavenly blessedness flows in from the lord into a life of charity (n. ). mere thinking admits no one into heaven; it must be accompanied by willing and doing good (n. , ). unless doing good is joined with willing good and thinking good there is no salvation nor any conjunction of the internal man with the external (n. ). . lvi. the lord rules the hells. above, in treating of heaven it has been everywhere shown (especially in n. - ) that the god of heaven is the lord, thus that the whole government of the heavens is the lord's government. and as the relation of heaven to hell and of hell to heaven is like the relation between two opposites which mutually act contrary to each other, and from the action and re-action of which an equilibrium results, which gives permanence to all things of their action and reaction, so in order that all things and each thing may be kept in equilibrium it is necessary that he who rules the one should rule the other; for unless the same lord restrained the uprisings from the hells and checked insanities there the equilibrium would perish and everything with it. . but something about that equilibrium shall first be told. it is acknowledged that when two things mutually act against each other, and as much as one reacts and resists the other acts and impels, since there is equal power on either side, neither has any effect, and both can then be acted upon freely by a third. for when the force of the two is neutralized by equal opposition the force of a third has full effect, and acts as easily as if there were no opposition. [ ] such is the equilibrium between heaven and hell. yet it is not an equilibrium like that between two bodily combatants whose strength is equal; but it is a spiritual equilibrium, that is, an equilibrium of falsity against truth and of evil against good. from hell falsity from evil continually exhales, and from heaven truth from good. it is this spiritual equilibrium that causes man to think and will in freedom; for whatever a man thinks and wills has reference either to evil and falsity therefrom or to good and truth therefrom. [ ] therefore when he is in that equilibrium he is in freedom either to admit or accept evil and its falsity from hell or to admit or accept good and its truth from heaven. every man is held in this equilibrium by the lord, because the lord rules both heaven and hell. but why man is held in this freedom by such an equilibrium, and why evil and falsity are not taken away from him and good and truth implanted in him by divine power will be told hereafter in its own chapter. . a perception of the sphere of falsity from evil that flows forth from hell has often been granted me. it was like a perpetual effort to destroy all that is good and true, combined with anger and a kind of fury at not being able to do so, especially an effort to annihilate and destroy the divine of the lord, and this because all good and truth are from him. but out of heaven a sphere of truth from good was perceived, whereby the fury of the effort ascending from hell was restrained. the result of this was an equilibrium. this sphere from heaven was perceived to come from the lord alone, although it appeared to come from the angels in heaven. it is from the lord alone, and not from the angels, because every angel in heaven acknowledges that nothing of good and of truth is from himself, but all is from the lord. . in the spiritual world truth from good is the source of all power, and falsity from evil has no power whatever. this is because the divine itself in heaven is divine good and divine truth, and all power belongs to the divine. falsity from evil is powerless because truth from good is the source of all power, and in falsity from evil there is nothing of truth from good. consequently in heaven there is all power, and none in hell; for everyone in heaven is in truths from good, and everyone in hell is in falsities from evil. for no one is admitted into heaven until he is in truths from good, neither is any one cast down into hell until he is in falsities from evil, (that this is so can be seen in the chapters treating of the first, second, and third states of man after death, n. - ; and that all power belongs to truth from good can be seen in the chapter on the power of angels in heaven, n. - .) . such, then, is the equilibrium between heaven and hell. those who are in the world of spirits are in that equilibrium, for the world of spirits is midway between heaven and hell. from the same source all men in the world are kept in a like equilibrium, since men in the world are ruled by the lord by means of spirits in the world of spirits, as will be shown hereafter in its own chapter. no such equilibrium would be possible unless the lord ruled both heaven and hell and regulated both sides. otherwise falsities from evil would preponderate, and would affect the simple good who are in the outmosts regions of heaven, and who can be more easily perverted than the angels themselves; and thereby equilibrium would perish, and with it freedom in men. . hell, like heaven, is divided into societies, and into as many societies as there are in heaven; for every society in heaven has a society opposite to it in hell, and this for the sake of equilibrium. but evils and falsities therefrom are what distinguish the societies in hell, as goods and truths therefrom are what distinguish the societies in heaven. that for every good there is an opposite evil, and for every truth an opposite falsity may be known from this, that nothing can exist without relation to its opposite, and what anything is in kind and degree can be known from its opposite, and from this all perception and sensation is derived. for this reason the lord continually provides that every society in heaven shall have an opposite in some society of hell, and that there shall be an equilibrium between the two. . as hell is divided into the same number of societies as heaven, there are as many hells as there are societies of heaven; for as each society of heaven is a heaven in smaller form (see above, n. - ), so each society in hell is a hell in smaller form. as in general there are three heavens, so in general there are three hells, a lowest, which is opposite to the inmost or third heaven, a middle, which is opposite to the middle or second heaven, and a higher, which is opposite to the outmost or first heaven. . how the hells are ruled by the lord shall be briefly explained. in general the hells are ruled by a general outflow from the heavens of divine good and divine truth whereby the general endeavor flowing forth from the hells is checked and restrained; also by a particular outflow from each heaven and from each society of heaven. the hells are ruled in particular by means of the angels, to whom it is granted to look into the hells and to restrain insanities and disturbances there; and sometimes angels are sent to them who moderate these insanities and disturbances by their presence. but in general all in the hells are ruled by means of their fears. some are ruled by fears implanted in the world and still inherent in them; but as these fears are not sufficient, and gradually subside, they are ruled by fears of punishments; and it is especially by these that they are deterred from doing evil. the punishments in hell are manifold, lighter or more severe in accordance with the evils. for the most part the more wicked, who excel in cunning and in artifices, and who are able to hold the rest in subjection and servitude by means of punishments and consequent terror, are set over them; but these governors dare not pass beyond the limits prescribed to them. it must be understood that the sole means of restraining the violence and fury of those who are in the hells is the fear of punishment. there is no other way. . it has been believed heretofore in the world that there is one devil that presides over the hells; that he was created an angel of light; but having become rebellious he was cast down with his crew into hell. this belief has prevailed because the devil and satan, and also lucifer, are mentioned by name in the word, and the word in those places has been understood according to the sense of the letter. but by "the devil" and "satan" there hell is meant, "devil" meaning the hell that is behind, where the worst dwell, who are called evil genii; and "satan" the hell that is in front, where the less wicked dwell, who are called evil spirits; and "lucifer" those that belong to babel, or babylon, who would extend their dominion even into heaven. that there is no one devil to whom the hells are subject is evident also from this, that all who are in the hells, like all who are in the heavens, are from the human race (see n. - ); and that those who have gone there from the beginning of creation to this time amount to myriads of myriads, and everyone of them is a devil in accord with his opposition to the divine while he lived in the world (see above, n. , ). . lvii. the lord casts no one into hell; the spirit casts himself down. an opinion has prevailed with some that god turns away his face from man, casts man away from himself, and casts him into hell, and is angry with him on account of his evil; and some believe also that god punishes man and does evil to him. in this opinion they establish themselves by the sense of the letter of the word, where such things are declared, not knowing that the spiritual sense of the word, by which the sense of the letter is made clear, is wholly different; and consequently that the genuine doctrine of the church, which is from the spiritual sense of the word, teaches otherwise, namely, that god never turns away his face from man, and never casts man away from himself, that he casts no one into hell and is angry with no one.{ } everyone, moreover, whose mind is enlightened perceives this to be true when he reads the word, from the simple truth that god is good itself, love itself, and mercy itself; and that good itself cannot do evil to any one, and love itself and mercy itself can not cast man away from itself, because this is contrary to the very essence of mercy and love, thus contrary to the divine itself. therefore those who think from an enlightened mind clearly perceive, when they read the word, that god never turns himself away from man; and as he never turns himself away from him he deals with him from goodness, love, and mercy, that is, wills good to him, loves him, and is merciful to him. and from this they see that the sense of the letter of the word, in which such things are declared, has stored up within itself a spiritual sense, and that these expressions that are used in the sense of the letter in accommodation to man's apprehension and according to his first and general ideas are to be explained in accordance with the spiritual sense. {footnote } in the word anger and wrath are attributed to the lord, but they are in man, and it is so expressed because such is the appearance to man when he is punished and damned (n. , , , , , , , ). evil also is attributed to the lord, although nothing but good is from him (n. , , , , , , , , , , , ). why it is so expressed in the word (n. , , , , , , , , , , ). the lord is pure mercy and clemency (n. , ). . those who are enlightened see further that good and evil are two opposites, and are therefore opposed as heaven and hell are, and that all good is from heaven and all evil from hell; and as it is the divine of the lord that makes heaven (n. - ), nothing but good flows into man from the lord, and nothing but evil from hell; thus the lord is continually withdrawing man from evil and leading him to good, while hell is continually leading man into evil. unless man were between these two, he could have no thought nor any will, still less any freedom or any choice; for all these man has by virtue of the equilibrium between good and evil; consequently if the lord should turn himself away, leaving man to evil alone, man would cease to be man. all this shows that the lord flows into every man with good, into the evil man as well as the good; but with the difference that the lord is continually withdrawing the evil man from evil and is continually leading the good man to good; and this difference lies in the man himself, because he is the recipient. . from this it is clear that it is from hell that man does evil, and from the lord that he does good. but man believes that whatever he does he does from himself, and in consequence of this the evil that he does sticks to him as his own; and for this reason man is the cause of his own evil, and in no way the lord. evil in man is hell in him, for it is the same thing whether you say evil or hell. and since man is the cause of his own evil he is led into hell, not by the lord but by himself. for so far is the lord from leading man into hell that it is he who delivers man from hell, and this he does so far as man does not will and love to be in his own evil. all of man's will and love continues with him after death (n. - ). he who wills and loves evil in the world wills and loves the same evil in the other life, but he no longer suffers himself to be withdrawn from it. if, therefore, a man is in evil he is tied to hell, and in respect to his spirit is actually there, and after death desires nothing so much as to be where his evil is; consequently it is man who casts himself into hell after death, and not the lord. . how this comes about shall also be explained. when man enters the other life he is received first by angels, who perform for him all good offices, and talk with him about the lord, heaven, and the angelic life, and instruct him in things that are true and good. but if the man, now a spirit, be one who knew about these things in the world, but in heart denied or despised them, after some conversation he desires and seeks to get away from these angels. as soon as the angels perceive this they leave him. after some interaction with others he at length unites himself with those who are in evil like his own (see above, n. - ). when this takes place he turns himself away from the lord and turns his face towards the hell to which he had been joined in the world, in which those abide who are in a like love of evil. all this makes clear that the lord draws every spirit to himself by means of angels and by means of influx from heaven; but those spirits that are in evil completely resist, and as it were tear themselves away from the lord, and are drawn by their own evil, thus by hell, as if by a rope. and as they are so drawn, and by reason of their love of evil are eager to follow, it is evident that they themselves cast themselves into hell by their own free choice. men in the world because of their idea of hell are unable to believe that this is so. in fact, in the other life before the eyes of those who are outside of hell it does not so appear; but only so to those who cast themselves into hell, for such enter of their own accord. those who enter from a burning love of evil appear to be cast headlong, with the head downwards and the feet upwards. it is because of this appearance that they seem to be cast into hell by divine power. (but about this more will be said below, n. .) from all this it can be seen that the lord casts no one into hell, but everyone casts himself into hell, both while he is living in the world and also after death when he comes among spirits. . the lord from his divine essence, which is goodness, love, and mercy, is unable to deal in the same way with every man, because evils and their falsities prevent, and not only quench his divine influx but even reject it. evils and their falsities are like black clouds which interpose between the sun and the eye, and take away the sunshine and the serenity of its light; although the unceasing endeavor of the sun to dissipate the opposing clouds continues, for it is operating behind them; and in the meantime transmits something of obscure light into the eye of man by various roundabout ways. it is the same in the spiritual world. the sun there is the lord and the divine love (n. - ); and the light there is the divine truth (n. - ); black clouds there are falsities from evil; the eye there is the understanding. so far as any one in that world is in falsities from evil he is encompassed by such a cloud, which is black and dense according to the degree of his evil. from this comparison it can be seen that the lord is unceasingly present with everyone, but that he is received variously. . evil spirits are severely punished in the world of spirits in order that by means of punishments they may be deterred from doing evil. this also appears to be from the lord; and yet nothing of punishment there is from the lord, but is from the evil itself; since evil is so joined with its own punishment that the two cannot be separated. for the infernal crew desire and love nothing so much as doing evil, especially inflicting punishments and torment upon others; and they maltreat and inflict punishments upon everyone who is not protected by the lord. when, therefore, evil is done from an evil heart, because it thereby discards all protection from the lord, infernal spirits rush upon the one who does the evil, and inflict punishment. this may be partly illustrated by evils and their punishments in the world, where the two are also joined. for laws in the world prescribe a penalty for every evil; therefore he that rushes into evil rushes also into the penalty of evil. the only difference is that in the world the evil may be concealed; but in the other life it cannot be concealed. all this makes clear that the lord does evil to no one; and that it is the same as it is in the world, where it is not the king nor the judge nor the law that is the cause of punishment to the guilty, because these are not the cause of the evil in the evil doer. . lviii. all who are in the hells are in evils and in falsities therefrom derived from the loves of self and of the world. all who are in the hells are in evils and in falsities therefrom, and no one there is in evils and at the same time in truths. in the world evil men for the most part have some knowledge of spiritual truths, which are the truths of the church, having been taught them from childhood and later by preaching and by reading the word; and afterwards they have talked about them. some have even led others to believe that they are christians at heart because of their knowing how to talk with pretended affection in harmony with the truth, also how to act uprightly as if from spiritual faith. but those of this class whose interior thoughts have been hostile to these truths, and who have refrained from doing the evils that were in harmony with their thoughts only because of the civil laws, or with a view to reputation, honors, and gain, are all of them evil in heart, and are in truths and goods not in respect to their spirit but only in respect to their body; and consequently, when their externals are taken away from them in the other life, and their internals which pertain to their spirit are revealed, they are wholly in evils and falsities, and not at all in truths and goods; and it is thus made clear that truths and goods resided only in their memory merely as things known about, and that they brought them forth therefrom when talking, putting on a semblance of good seemingly from spiritual love and faith. when such are let into their internals and thus into their evils they are no longer able to speak what is true, but only what is false; since they speak from evils; for to speak what is true from evils is then impossible, since the spirit is nothing but his own evil, and from evil what is false goes forth. every evil spirit is reduced to this state before he is cast into hell (see above, n. - ). this is called being vastated in respect to truths and goods.{ } vastation is simply being let into one's internals, that is, into what is the spirit's own, or into the spirit itself (see above, n. ). {footnote } before the evil are cast down into hell they are devastated of truths and goods, and when these have been taken away they are of themselves carried into hell (n. , , , , , ). the lord does not devastate them, but they devastate themselves (n. , ). every evil has in it what is false; therefore those who are in evil are also in falsity, although some do not know it (n. , ). those who are in evil must needs think what is false when they think from themselves (n. ). all who are in hell speak falsities from hell (n. , , , , , ). . when man after death comes into this state he is no longer a man-spirit, as he was in his first state (of which above, n. - ), but is truly a spirit; for he is truly a spirit who has a face and body that correspond to his internals which pertain to his mind, that is, has an external form that is a type or effigy of his internals. a spirit is such after he has passed through the first and second states spoken of above; consequently when he is looked upon his character is at once known, not only from his face and from his body, but also from his speech and movements; and as he is then in himself he can be nowhere else than where his like are. [ ] for in the spiritual world there is a complete sharing of affections and their thoughts, and in consequence a spirit is conveyed to his like as if of himself, since it is done from his affection and its delight. in fact, he turns himself in that direction; for thus he inhales his own life or draws his breath freely, which he cannot do when he turns another way. it must be understood that this sharing with others in the spiritual world is effected in accordance with the turning of the face, and that each one has constantly before his face those who are in a love like his own, and this in every turning of the body (see above, n. ) [ ] in consequence of this all infernal spirits turn themselves away from the lord toward the densely dark body and the dark body that are there in place of the sun and moon of this world, while all the angels of heaven turn themselves to the lord as the sun of heaven and as the moon of heaven (see above, n. , , , ). from all this it is clear that all who are in the hells are in evils and in falsities therefrom; also that they are turned to their own loves. . all spirits in the hells, when seen in any light of heaven, appear in the form of their evil; for everyone there is an image of his evil, since his interiors and his exteriors act as a one, the interiors making themselves visible in the exteriors, which are the face, body, speech and movements; thus the character of the spirit is known as soon as he is seen. in general evil spirits are forms of contempt of others and of menaces against those who do not pay them respect; they are forms of hatreds of various kinds, also of various kinds of revenge. fierceness and cruelty from their interiors show through these forms. but when they are commended, venerated, and worshiped by others their faces are restrained and take on an expression of gladness from delight. [ ] it is impossible to describe in a few words how all these forms appear, for no one is like another, although there is a general likeness among those who are in the same evil, and thus in the same infernal society, from which, as from a plane of derivation, the faces of all are seen to have a certain resemblance. in general their faces are hideous, and void of life like those of corpses; the faces of some are black, others fiery like torches, others disfigured with pimples, warts, and ulcers; some seem to have no face, but in its stead something hairy or bony; and with some only the teeth are seen; their bodies also are monstrous; and their speech is like the speech of anger or of hatred or of revenge; for what everyone speaks is from his falsity, while his tone is from his evil. in a word, they are all images of their own hell. [ ] i have not been permitted to see what the form of hell itself in general is; i have only been told that as the entire heaven in one complex reflects a single man (n. - ), so the entire hell in one complex reflects a single devil, and might be exhibited in an image of a single devil (see above, n. ). but the forms of particular hells or infernal societies i have often been permitted to see; for at their entrances, which are called the gates of hell, a monster commonly appears that represents in a general way the form of those within. the fierce passions of those who dwell there are represented at the same time in horrible and hideous ways that i forbear to describe. [ ] but it must be understood that this is the way infernal spirits appear in the light of heaven, while among themselves they appear as men. this is of the lord's mercy, that they may not appear as loathsome to one another as they appear before the angels. but this appearance is a fallacy, for as soon as any ray of light from heaven is let in, their human forms appear changed into monstrous forms, such as they are in themselves (as has been described above). for in the light of heaven everything appears as it is in itself. for this reason they shun the light of heaven and cast themselves down into their own light, which is like that from lighted coals, and in some cases like that from burning sulphur; but this light also is turned into mere thick darkness when any light from heaven flows in upon it. this is why the hells are said to be in thick darkness and in darkness; and why "thick darkness" and "darkness" signify falsities derived from evil, such as are in hell. . from an inspection of these monstrous forms of spirits in the hells (which, as i have said, are all forms of contempt of others and of menaces against those who do not pay them honor and respect, also forms of hatred and revenge against those who do not favor them), it became evident that in general they were all forms of the love of self and the love of the world; and that the evils of which these are the specific forms have their origin in these two loves. moreover, i have been told from heaven, and it has been proved to me by much experience, that these two loves, the love of self and the love of the world, rule in the hells and constitute the hells as love to the lord and love towards the neighbor rule in the heavens and constitute the heavens; also that the two loves that are the loves of hell and the two loves that are the loves of heaven are diametrically opposite to each other. . at first i wondered how it is that love of self and love of the world could be so diabolical, and how those who are in these loves could be such monsters in appearance; for in the world not much thought is given to love of self, but only to that elated state of mind in external matters which is called haughtiness, and that alone, being so apparent to the sight, is regarded as love of self. furthermore, love of self, when it is not so displayed, is believed in the world to be the very fire of life by which man is stimulated to seek employment and to perform uses, and if he found no honor or glory in these his mind would grow torpid. it is asked, who has ever done any worthy, useful, and distinguished deed except for the sake of being praised and honored by others, or regarded with esteem and honor by others? and can this be from any other source than the fire of love for glory and honor, consequently for self. for this reason, it is unknown in the world that love of self, regarded in itself, is the love that rules in hell and constitutes hell in man. this being so i will first describe what the love of self is, and then will show that all evils and their falsities spring from that love as their fountain. . the love of self is wishing well to oneself alone, and to others only for the sake of self, even to the church, one's country, or any human society. it consists also in doing good to all these solely for the sake of one's own reputation, honor, and glory; and unless these are seen in the uses he performs in behalf of others he says in his heart, how does it concern me? why should i do this? what shall i get from it? and therefore he does not do it. evidently, then, he who is in the love of self does not love the church or his country or society, nor any use, but himself alone. his delight is solely the delight of the love of self; and as the delight that comes forth from his love is what constitutes the life of man, his life is a life of self; and a life of self is a life from what is man's own, and what is man's own, regarded in itself, is nothing but evil. he who loves himself loves also those who belong to him, that is, in particular, his children and grandchildren, and in general, all who are at one with him, whom he calls his. to love these is to love himself, for he regards them as it were in himself, and himself in them. among those whom he calls his are also all who commend, honor, and pay their court to him. . what love of self is can be seen by comparing it with heavenly love. heavenly love consists in loving uses for the sake of uses, or goods for the sake of goods, which are done by man in behalf of the church, his country, human society, and a fellow-citizen; for this is loving god and loving the neighbor, since all uses and all goods are from god, and are the neighbor who is to be loved. but he who loves these for the sake of himself loves them merely as servants, because they are serviceable to him; consequently it is the will of one who is in self-love that the church, his country, human societies, and his fellow citizens, should serve him, and not he them, for he places himself above them and places them beneath himself. therefore so far as any one is in love of self he separates himself from heaven, because he separates himself from heavenly love. . [a.] furthermore, so far as any one is in heavenly love, which consists in loving uses and goods and being moved by delight of heart when doing them for the sake of the church, country, human society, and ones fellow-citizens, he is so far led by the lord, because that love is the love in which the lord is, and which is from him. but so far as any one is in the love of self, which consists in performing uses and goods for the sake of himself, so far he is led by himself; and so far as any one is led by himself he is not led by the lord. and from this it also follows that so far as any one loves himself he separates himself from the divine, thus also from heaven. to be led by one's self is to be led by what is one's own; and what is man's own is nothing but evil; for man's inherited evil consists in loving self more than god, and the world more than heaven.{ } whenever man looks to himself in the good that he does he is let into what is his own, that is, into his inherited evils for he then looks from good to himself and from himself to good, and therefore he presents an image of himself in his good, and not an image of the divine. that this is so has also been proved to me by experience. there are evil spirits whose dwelling places are in the middle quarter between the north and the west, beneath the heavens, who are skilled in the art of leading well-disposed spirits into their nature [proprium] and thus into evils of various kinds. this they do by leading them into thoughts about themselves, either openly by praises and honors, or secretly by directing their affections to themselves; and so far as this is done they turn the faces of the well-disposed spirits away from heaven, and to the same extent they obscure their understanding and call forth evils from what is their own. {footnote } man's own, which he derives by inheritance from his parents, is nothing but dense evil (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). man's own is loving self more than god, and the world more than heaven, and making nothing of one's neighbor in comparison with oneself, except for the sake of self, that is one's own self; thus it consists in love of self and of the world (n. , , , ). all evils flow from the love of self and the love of the world when these predominate (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). these evils are contempt of others, enmity, hatred, revenge, cruelty, deceit (n. , , , , , ). from these evils all falsity flows (n. , , , ). . [b.] that the love of self is the opposite of love to the neighbor can be seen from the origin and essence of both. the love of the neighbor of one who is in the love of self begins with oneself, for he claims that everyone is neighbor to himself; and it goes forth from him as its center to all who make one with him, diminishing in accordance with the degree of their conjunction with him by love. all outside of this circle are regarded as of no account; and those who are opposed to those in the circle and to their evils are accounted as enemies, whatever their character may be, however wise, upright, honest, or just. but spiritual love to the neighbor begins with the lord, and goes forth from him as its center to all who are conjoined to him by love and faith, going forth in accordance with the quality of their love and faith.{ } evidently, then, the love of the neighbor that has its beginning in man is the opposite of the love to the neighbor that has its beginning in the lord; and the former proceeds from evil because it proceeds from what is man's own, while the latter proceeds from good because it proceeds from the lord, who is good itself. evidently, also, the love of the neighbor that proceeds from man and from what is his own is corporeal, while the love to the neighbor that proceeds from the lord is heavenly. in a word, in the man in whom love of self prevails that love constitutes the head, and heavenly love constitutes the feet. on that love he stands; and if it does not serve him he tramples it under foot. this is the cause of the appearance that those who are cast down into hell fall with the head downward towards hell, and with the feet upwards towards heaven (see above, n. ). {footnote } those who do not know what it is to love the neighbor imagine every man to be a neighbor, and that good is to be done to everyone who is in need of help (n. ). they also believe that everyone is neighbor to himself, and thus that love to the neighbor begins with self (n. ). those who love themselves above all things, that is, with whom self-love prevails, also make love to the neighbor to begin with themselves (n. ). in what manner everyone is neighbor to himself, explained (n. - ). but those who are christians and who love god above all things make love to the neighbor to begin with the lord, because he is to be loved above all things (n. , , , ). the distinctions of neighbor are as many as the distinctions of good from the lord, and there should be distinction in doing good to everyone in accordance with the quality of his state, and this is a matter of christian prudence (n. , , , ). these distinctions are innumerable, and for this reason the ancients, who knew what is meant by the neighbor, reduced the exercises of charity into classes, which they denoted by suitable names, and from this knew in what respect everyone was a neighbor, and in what manner good was to be done to everyone with prudence (n. , , , - ). the doctrine in the ancient churches was the doctrine of charity towards the neighbor, and from this they had wisdom (n. , , , , , ). . again, love of self is such that so far as the reins are given it, that is, so far as external bonds are removed, which are fears of the law and its penalties, and of the loss of reputation, honor, gain, employment, and life, so far it rushes on until it finally longs to rule not only over the entire world but also over the entire heaven, and over the divine himself, knowing no limit or end. this propensity lurks hidden in everyone who is in love of self, although it is not manifest to the world, where it is held in check by such bonds as have been mentioned. everyone can see examples of this in potentates and kings who are subject to no such restraints and bonds, but rush on and subjugate provinces and kingdoms so far as they are successful, and aspire to power and glory without limit; and still more strikingly in the babylon of this day, which has extended its dominion into heaven, and has transferred to itself all the divine power of the lord, and continually lusts for more. that such men, when they have entered after death the other life, are directly opposed to the divine and to heaven, and are on the side of hell, can be seen in the little work on the last judgment and the destruction of babylon. . picture to yourself a society of such persons, all of whom love themselves alone and love others only so far as they make one with themselves, and you will see that their love is precisely like the love of thieves for each other, who embrace and call one another friends so long as they are acting together; but when they cease to act together and discard their subordination to one another, they rise up against and murder one another. when the interiors or the minds of such are explored they will be seen to be full of bitter hatred one against another, and at heart will laugh at all justice and honesty, and likewise at the divine, which they reject as of no account. this is still more evident in the societies of such in the hells treated of below. . the interiors pertaining to the thoughts and affections of those who love themselves above all things are turned towards themselves and the world, and thus are turned away from the lord and from heaven; and consequently they are obsessed with evils of every kind, and the divine cannot flow in; for if it does flow in it is instantly submerged in thoughts of self, and is defiled, and is also mingled with the evils that flow from what is their own. this is why all such in the other life look backwards away from the lord, and towards the densely dark body that is there in the place of the sun of the world, and is diametrically opposite to the sun of heaven, which is the lord (see above, n. ). "thick darkness" signifies evil, and the "sun of the world" the love of self.{ } {footnote } "the sun of the world" signifies the love of self (n. ). in this sense "to worship the sun" signifies to worship those things that are antagonistic to heavenly love and to the lord (n. , ). "the sun's growing hot" means an increasing lust of evil (n. ). . the evils of those who are in the love of self are, in general, contempt of others, envy, enmity against all who do not favor them, and consequent hostility, hatred of various kinds, revenge, cunning, deceit, unmercifulness, and cruelty; and in respect to religious matters there is not merely a contempt for the divine and for divine things, which are the truths and goods of the church, but also hostility to them. when man becomes a spirit this hostility is turned into hatred; and then he not only cannot endure to hear these truths and goods mentioned, he even burns with hatred against all who acknowledge and worship the divine. i once talked with a certain spirit who in the world had been a man in authority, and had loved self to an unusual degree; and when he simply heard some one mention the divine, and especially when he heard him mention the lord, he was so excited by hatred arising from anger as to burn with the desire to kill; and when the reins of his love were loosened he wished to be the devil himself, that from his love of self he might continually infest heaven. this is the desire also of some of the papist religion when they perceive in the other life that the lord has all power and they have none. . certain spirits were seen by me in the western quarter towards the south, who said that they had been in positions of great dignity in the world, and that they deserved to be more highly esteemed than others and to rule over others. their interior character was explored by angels, and it was found that in their offices in the world they had not looked to uses but to themselves, and thus that they had set themselves before uses. but as they were very eager and importunate to be set over others they were allowed to associate with those who were consulting about matters of great importance; but it was perceived that they were unable to give any thought to the business under discussion, or to see matters as they are in themselves, or to speak with reference to the use of the thing, but were able to speak only with reference to self, and that they wished to act from what is pleasing on the ground of favor. they were therefore dismissed from that duty, and left to seek employment for themselves elsewhere. therefore they went further into the western quarter, where they were received here and there, but everywhere were told that they thought only of themselves, and of no business except with reference to self, and for this reason were stupid and like merely sensual corporeal spirits. on this account wheresoever they went they were sent away. some time afterwards they were seen reduced to a destitute state and asking alms. thus it was made clear that those who are in the love of self, however from the fire of that love they may seem to speak in the world wisely, speak merely from the memory, and not from any rational light. therefore in the other life, when they are no longer permitted to bring forth the things of the natural memory, they are more stupid than others, and for the reason that they are separated from the divine. . there are two kinds of dominion, one of love towards the neighbor and the other of love of self. these two dominions in their essence are direct opposites. one who rules from love towards the neighbor wills good to all, and loves nothing so much as uses, that is, serving others; which is willing good to others and performing uses, either to the church, or to the country, or to society, or to a fellow citizen. this is his love and the delight of his heart. moreover, so far as he is exalted to dignities above others he rejoices, not for the sake of the dignities but for the sake of the uses he is then able to perform in greater abundance and of a higher order. such dominion exists in the heavens. [ ] but one who rules from the love of self wills good to no one except himself; the uses he performs are for the sake of his own honor and glory, which to him are the only uses; his end in serving others is that he may himself be served, honored, and permitted to rule; he seeks dignities not for the sake of the good offices he may render to his country and the church, but that he may gain eminence and glory and thereby the delight of his heart. [ ] moreover this love of dominion continues with everyone after his life in the world. those that have ruled from love towards the neighbor are entrusted with authority in the heavens; but then it is not they who rule, but the uses which they love; and when uses rule the lord rules. but those who have ruled while in the world are in hell, and are there vile slaves. i have seen those who had power in the world, but who exercised dominion from love of self, cast out among the most vile, and some among those who are in excrementitious places. . but in respect to the love of the world: it is a love opposed to heavenly love in a less degree than love of self, because the evils hidden within it are lesser evils. the love of the world consists in one's desiring to secure to himself, by any kind of artifice, the wealth of others, and in setting his heart upon riches, and permitting the world to draw him and lead him away from spiritual love, which is love towards the neighbor, and thus from heaven and from the divine. but this love is manifold. there is a love of wealth for the sake of being exalted to honors, when these alone are loved. there is a love of honors and dignities with a view to the increase of wealth. there is a love of wealth for the sake of various uses that give delight in the world. there is a love of wealth merely for the sake of wealth, which is a miserly love; and so on. the end for the sake of which wealth is sought is called its use; and it is the end or use that gives to love its quality; for the love is such as is the end in view, and all other things merely serve it as means. . lviv. what hell fire is and what the gnashing of teeth is. what eternal fire is, and what the gnashing of teeth is, which are mentioned in the word in reference to those who are in hell, scarcely any one as yet has known, because the contents of the word have been thought about only in a material way, and nothing has been known about its spiritual sense. so fire has been understood by some to mean material fire, by others to mean torment in general, by others remorse of conscience, and others have held that it is mentioned merely to excite terror in the wicked. likewise some have supposed the gnashing of teeth to mean actual gnashing, and some only a horror, such as is excited when such a collision of teeth is heard. but any one who is acquainted with the spiritual meaning of the word may know what eternal fire is, and what the gnashing of teeth is; for every expression and every meaning of the expressions in the word contains a spiritual meaning, since the word in its bosom is spiritual; and what is spiritual can be set before man only in natural forms of expression, because man is in the natural world and thinks from the things of that world. therefore it shall now be told what is meant by "eternal fire" and "the gnashing of teeth" into which the spirits of evil men enter after death, or which their spirits, then in the spiritual world, endure. . there are two origins of heat, one the sun of heaven which is the lord, and the other the sun of the world. the heat that is from the sun of heaven, that is, the lord, is spiritual heat; and this in its essence is love (see above, n. - ); but the heat from the sun of the world is natural heat, and this in its essence is not love, but serves spiritual heat or love as a receptacle. evidently love in its essence is heat, since it is love, in accord with its degree and quality, that gives heat to the mind, and thence to the body; and this man experiences as well in the winter as in the summer. the heating of the blood is from the same source. that the natural heat that springs from the sun of the world serves spiritual heat as a receptacle is evident from the heat of the body, which is excited by the heat of its spirit, and is a kind of substitute for that heat in the body. it is especially evident from the spring and summer heat in animals of every kind which then annually renew their loves. [ ] it is not the natural heat that produces this effect, but it disposes their bodies to receive the heat that flows into them from the spiritual world; for the spiritual world flows into the natural as cause into effect. whoever believes that natural heat produces these loves is much deceived, for influx is from the spiritual world into the natural world, and not from the natural world into the spiritual; and as all love belongs to the life itself it is spiritual. [ ] again, he who believes that any thing comes forth in the natural world without influx from the spiritual world is deceived, for what is natural comes forth and continues to exist only from what is spiritual. furthermore, the subjects of the vegetable kingdom derive their germinations from influx out of the spiritual world. the natural heat of spring time and summer merely disposes the seeds into their natural forms by expanding and opening them so that influx from the spiritual world can there act as a cause. these things are mentioned to make clear that there are two kinds of heat, spiritual heat and natural heat; and that spiritual heat is from the sun of heaven and natural heat from the sun of the world, and that influx and consequent cooperation produce the effects that appear before the eyes in the world.{ } {footnote } there is an influx from the spiritual world into the natural world (n. - , - , - , - , - ). there is also an influx into the lives of animals (n. ). and into the subjects of the vegetable kingdom (n. ). this influx is a continual endeavor to act in accordance with the divine order (n. at the end). . spiritual heat in man is the heat of his life, because, as was said above, it is in its essence love. this heat is what is meant in the word by "fire," love to the lord and love towards the neighbor by "heavenly fire," and love of self and love of the world by "infernal fire." . infernal fire or love springs from a like origin as heavenly fire or love, namely, the sun of heaven, or the lord; but it is made infernal by those who receive it. for all influx from the spiritual world varies in accordance with reception, that is, in accordance with the forms into which it flows, just as it is with the heat and light from the sun of the world. the heat from that sun flowing into shrubberies and beds of flowers produces vegetation, and draws forth grateful and sweet odors; but the same heat flowing into excrementitious and decaying substances produces putrefactions, and draws forth rank and disgusting stenches. in like manner the light from the same sun produces in one subject beautiful and pleasing colors, in another unbeautiful and disagreeable colors. the same is true of the heat and light from the sun of heaven, which is love. when the heat, or love, from that sun flows into good, as it does in good men and angels, it makes their good fruitful; but when it flows into the evil it produces a contrary effect, for their evils either suffocate it or pervert it. in like manner when the light of heaven flows into the truths of good it imparts intelligence and wisdom; but when it flows into the falsities of evil it is turned into insanities and phantasies of various kinds. thus in every instance the result is in accordance with reception. . as infernal fire is the love of self and of the world it is also every lust of these loves, since lust is love in its continuity, for what a man loves he continually lusts after. infernal fire is also delight, since what a man loves and lusts after he perceives, when he obtains it, to be delightful. man's delight of heart is from no other source. infernal fire, therefore, is the lust and delight that spring from these two loves as their origins. the evils flowing from these loves are contempt of others, enmity, and hostility against those who do not favor them, envy, hatred, and revenge, and from these fierceness and cruelty; and in respect to the divine they are denial and consequent contempt, derision, and detraction of the holy things of the church; and after death, when man becomes a spirit, these evils are changed to anger and hatred against these holy things (see above, n. ). and as these evils breathe forth continually the destruction and murder of those whom they account as enemies, and against whom they burn with hatred and revenge, so it is the delight of their life to will to destroy and kill, and so far as they are unable to do this, to will to do mischief, to injure, and to exercise cruelty. [ ] such is the meaning of "fire" in the word, where the evil and the hells are treated of, some passages from which i will here quote in the way of proof: everyone is a hypocrite and an evil doer, and every mouth speaketh folly. for wickedness burneth as the fire; it devoureth the briers and thorns, and kindleth in the thickets of the forests, and they roll upward in the rising of smoke; and the people is become like food for fire; no man spareth his brother (isa. : - ). i will show wonders in the heavens, and in the earth blood and fire, and pillars of smoke; the sun shall be turned into darkness (joel : , ). the land shall become burning pitch; it shall not be quenched night nor day; the smoke thereof shall go up forever (isa. : , ). behold the day cometh burning as a furnace, and all the proud and every worker of wickedness shall be stubble; and the day that cometh shall set them on fire (mal. : ). babylon is become a habitation of demons. they cried out as they saw the smoke of her burning. her smoke goeth up unto the ages of the ages (apoc. : , ; : ). he opened the pit of the abyss, and there went up a smoke out of the pit as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun was darkened, and the air, by the smoke of the pit (apoc. : ). out of the mouth of the horses went forth fire and smoke and brimstone; by these was the third part of men killed, by the fire and by the smoke and by the brimstone (apoc. : , ). if any one adores the beast he shall drink of the wine of the wrath of god mixed with unmixed wine in the cup of his anger, and shall be tormented with fire and brimstone (apoc. : , ). the fourth angel poured out his bowl upon the sun; and it was given unto it to scorch men with fire; therefore men were scorched with great heat (apoc. : , ). they were cast into a lake burning with fire and brimstone (apoc. : ; : , ; : ). every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be hewn down and cast into the fire (matt. : ; luke : ). the son of man shall send his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that cause stumbling and them that do iniquity, and shall cast them into a furnace of fire (matt. : , , ). the king shall say to them that are on the left hand, depart from me, ye cursed, into eternal fire, prepared for the devil and his angels (matt. : ). they shall be sent into everlasting fire, into the hell of fire, where their worm shall not die, and the fire shall not be quenched (matt. : , ; mark : - ). the rich man in hell said to abraham that he was tormented in flame (luke : ). in these and in many other passages "fire" means the lust pertaining to love of self and love of the world, and the "smoke" therefrom means falsity from evil. . as the lust of doing the evils that are from the love of self and of the world is meant by "infernal fire," and as such is the lust of all in the hells (as shown in the foregoing chapter) so when the hells are opened there is an appearance of fire with smoke, such as is seen in conflagrations, a dense fire from the hells where the love of self prevails, and a flaming fire from the hells where love of the world prevails. but when the hells are closed this fiery appearance is not seen, but in its place there is a kind of obscurity like a condensation of smoke; although the fire still rages within, as can be seen by the heat exhaling therefrom, which is like the heat from the burnt ruins after a fire, and in some places like the heat from a heated furnace, in others like the heat from a hot bath. when this heat flows into man it excites lusts in him, and in evil men hatred and revenge, and in the sick insanities. such is the fire or such the heat that affects those who are in the above-mentioned loves, because in respect to their spirit they are attached to those hells, even while living in the body. but it must be understood that those who are in the hells are not in fire; the fire is an appearance; those there are conscious of no burning, but only of a warmth like that which they had felt when in the world. this appearance of fire is from correspondence, since love corresponds to fire, and all things seen in the spiritual world are seen in accordance with correspondences. . it must be noted that this infernal fire or heat is changed into intense cold when heat from heaven flows in; and those who are in it then shiver like those seized with chills and fever, and are inwardly distressed; and for the reason that they are in direct opposition to the divine; and the heat of heaven (which is divine love) extinguishes the heat of hell (which is the love of self), and with it the fire of their life; and this is the cause of such cold and consequent shivering and distress. this is accompanied by thick darkness and by infatuation and mutual blindness therefrom. but this rarely happens, and only when outbreaks that have increased beyond measure need to be repressed. . since infernal fire means every lust for doing evil that flows forth from the love of self, this fire means also such torment as exists in the hells. for the lust from that love is a lust for injuring others who do not honor, venerate and worship oneself; and in proportion to the anger thereby excited, and the hatred and revenge from that anger, is there a lust for venting one's rage upon them. when such lust is active in everyone in a society, and is restrained by no external bond, such as the fear of the law, and of the loss of reputation, honor, gain, and life, everyone from the impulse of his own evil rushes upon another; and so far as he prevails subjugates the rest and subjects them to his dominion, and vents his rage with delight upon those who do not submit themselves. this delight is so intimately united with the delight of bearing rule that they exist in the same measure, since the delight of doing harm is contained in all enmity, envy, hatred, and revenge, which as said above, are the evils of that love. all the hells are such societies, and in consequence everyone there bears hatred in his heart against others, and from hatred bursts forth into cruelty so far as he has power. these cruelties and their torments are also meant by infernal fire, since they are the effects of lusts. . it has been shown above (n. ) that an evil spirit casts himself into hell of his own accord. it shall now be told in a few words how this comes about, when yet there are in hell such torments. from every hell there exhales a sphere of the lusts of those who are in it. whenever this sphere is perceived by one who is in a like lust he is affected at heart and filled with delight, for lust and its delight make one, since whatever one lusts after is delightful to him; and because of this a spirit turns himself hellwards, and from delight of heart lusts to go thither, since he does not yet know that such torments exist there, although he who knows it still lusts to go there. for no one in the spiritual world can resist his lust, because his lust belongs to his love, and his love belongs to his will, and his will belongs to his nature, and everyone there acts from his nature. [ ] when, therefore, a spirit of his own accord and from his freedom drifts towards his hell and enters it, he is received at first in a friendly manner, which makes him believe that he has come among friends. but this continues for a few hours only. in the meanwhile he is explored in respect to his astuteness and consequent ability; and when this has been done they begin to infest him, and this by various methods, and with gradually greater severity and vehemence. this is accomplished by introducing him more interiorly and deeply into hell; for the more interior and deeper the hell the more malignant are the spirits. after these infestations they begin to treat him cruelly by punishments, and this goes on until he is reduced to the condition of a slave. [ ] but rebellious movements are continually springing up there, since everyone wishes to be greatest, and burns with hatred against the others; and in consequence new uprisings occur, and thus one scene is changed into another, and those who are made slaves are delivered that they may assist some new devil to subjugate others; and again those who refuse to submit and render implicit obedience are tormented in various ways; and so on continually. such torments are the torments of hell, which are called hell fire. . gnashing of teeth is the continual contention and combat of falsities with each other, consequently of those who are in falsities, joined with contempt of others, with enmity, mockery, ridicule, blaspheming; and these evils burst forth into lacerations of various kinds; since everyone fights for his own falsity and calls it truth. these contentions and combats are heard outside of these hells like the gnashings of teeth; and are also turned into gnashings of teeth when truths from heaven flow in among them. in these hells are all who have acknowledged nature and have denied the divine. in the deeper of these hells are those that have confirmed themselves in such denials. as such are unable to receive any thing of light from heaven, and are thus unable to see any thing inwardly in themselves, they are for the most part corporeal sensual spirits, who believe nothing except what they see with their eyes and touch with their hands. therefore all the fallacies of the senses are truths to them; and it is from these that they dispute. this is why their contentions are heard as gnashings of teeth; for in the spiritual world all falsities give a grating sound, and the teeth correspond to the outmost things in nature and to the outmost things in man, which are corporeal sensual.{ } (that there is gnashing of teeth in the hells may be seen in matthew : ; : , ; : ; : ; : ; luke : .) {footnote } the correspondence of the teeth (n. - ). those who are purely sensual and have scarcely anything of spiritual light correspond to the teeth (n. ). in the word a tooth signifies the sensual, which is the outmost of the life of man (n. , ). gnashing of teeth in the other life comes from those who believe that nature is everything and the divine nothing (n. ). . lx. the malice and heinous artifices of infernal spirits in what way spirits are superior to men everyone can see and comprehend who thinks interiorly and knows any thing of the operation of his own mind; for in his mind he can consider, evolve, and form conclusions upon more subjects in a single moment than he can utter or express in writing in half an hour. this shows the superiority of man when he is in his spirit, and therefore when he becomes a spirit. for it is the spirit that thinks, and it is the body by which the spirit expresses its thoughts in speech or writing. in consequence of this, when man after death becomes an angel he is in intelligence and wisdom ineffable in comparison with his intelligence and wisdom while he lived in the world; for while he lived in the world his spirit was bound to his body, and was thereby in the natural world; and therefore whatever he thought spiritually flowed into natural ideas, which are comparatively general, gross, and obscure, and which are incapable of receiving innumerable things that pertain to spiritual thought; and which infold spiritual thought in the obscurities that arise from worldly cares. it is otherwise when the spirit is released from the body and comes into its spiritual state, which takes place when it passes out of the natural world into the spiritual world to which it belongs. from what has already been said it is evident that the state of its thoughts and affections is then immeasurably superior to its former state. because of this the thoughts of angels are ineffable and inexpressible, and are therefore incapable of entering into the natural thoughts of man; and yet every angel was born a man, and has lived as a man, and he then seemed to himself to be no wiser than any other like man. . in the same degree in which angels have wisdom and intelligence infernal spirits have malice and cunning; for the case is the same, since the spirit of man when released from the body is in his good or in his evil--if an angelic spirit in his good, and if an infernal spirit in his evil. every spirit is his own good or his own evil because he is his own love, as has been often said and shown above. therefore as an angelic spirit thinks, wills, speaks, and acts, from his good, an infernal spirit does this from his evil; and to think, will, speak, and act from evil itself, is to think, will, speak, and act from all things included in the evil. [ ] so long as man lived in the body it was different, since the evil of the spirit was then under the restraints that every man feels from the law, from hope of gain, from honor, from reputation, and from the fear of losing these; and therefore the evil of his spirit could not then burst forth and show what it was in itself. moreover, the evil of the spirit of man then lay wrapped up and veiled in outward probity, honesty, justice, and affection for truth and good, which such a man professes and counterfeits for the sake of the world; and under these semblances the evil has lain so concealed and obscured that he himself scarcely knew that his spirit contained so much malice and craftiness, that is, that in himself he was such a devil as he becomes after death, when his spirit comes into itself and into its own nature. [ ] such malice then manifests itself as exceeds all belief. there are thousands of evils that then burst forth from evil itself, among which are such as cannot be described in the words of any language. what they are has been granted me to know and also to perceive by much experience, since it has been granted me by the lord to be in the spiritual world in respect to my spirit and at the same time in the natural world in respect to my body. this i can testify, that their malice is so great that it is hardly possible to describe even a thousandth part of it; and so great that if man were not protected by the lord he could never be rescued from hell; for with every man there are spirits from hell as well as angels from heaven (see above, n. , ); and yet the lord cannot protect man unless he acknowledges the divine and lives a life of faith and charity; for otherwise man turns himself away from the lord and turns himself to infernal spirits, and thus his spirit becomes imbued with a malice like theirs. [ ] nevertheless, man is continually withdrawn by the lord from the evils that he attaches and as it were attracts to himself by his affiliation with infernal spirits. if he is not withdrawn by the internal bonds of conscience, which he fails to receive if he denies a divine, he is nevertheless withdrawn by external bonds, which are, as said above, fears in respect to the law and its penalties, and fears of the loss of gain and the deprivation of honor and reputation. in fact, such a man may be withdrawn from evils by means of the delights of his love and through fear of the loss or deprivation of those delights; but he cannot be led thereby into spiritual goods. for as soon as such a man is led into these he begins to give his thought to pretenses and devices by simulating or counterfeiting what is good, honest, and just, for the purpose of persuading and thus deceiving. such cunning adjoins itself to the evil of his spirit and gives form to it, causing his evil to be of the same nature as itself. . those are the worst of all who have been in evils from love of self and at the same time inwardly in themselves have acted from deceit; for deceit penetrates more deeply into the thoughts and intentions than other evils, and infects them with poison and thus wholly destroys the spiritual life of man. most of these spirits are in the hells behind the back, and are called genii; and there they delight to make themselves invisible, and to flutter about others like phantoms secretly infusing evil into them, which they spread around like the poison of a viper. these are more direfully tormented than others. but those who are not deceitful, and who have not been so filled with malignant craftiness, and yet are in the evils derived from the love of self, are also in the hells behind, but in those less deep. on the other hand, those that have been in evils from the love of the world are in the hells in front, and are called spirits. these spirits are not such forms of evil, that is, of hatred and revenge, as those are who are in evils from the love of self; and therefore do not have such malice and cunning; and in consequence their hells are milder. . i have been permitted to learn by experience what kind of malice those possess who are called genii. genii act upon and flow into the affections, and not the thoughts. they perceive and smell out the affections as dogs do wild beasts in the forest. good affections, when they perceive them in another, they turn instantly into evil affections, leading and bending them in a wonderful manner by means of the other's delights; and this so secretly and with such malignant skill that the other knows nothing of it, for they most carefully guard against anything entering into the thought, as thereby they would be manifested. the seat of these in man is beneath the back part of the head. in the world they were such as deceitfully captivated the minds of others, leading and persuading them by the delights of their affections or lusts. but such spirits are not permitted by the lord to come near to any man of whose reformation there is any hope; for they have the ability not only to destroy the conscience, but also to stir up in man his inherited evils, which otherwise lie hidden. therefore to prevent man's being led into these evils, these hells, by the lord's provision, are entirely closed up; and when any man of such a character comes after death into the other life, he is at once cast into their hell. when the deceit and craftiness of these spirits are clearly seen they appear as vipers. . the kind of malice infernal spirits possess is evident from their nefarious arts, which are so many that to enumerate them would fill a volume, and to describe them would fill many volumes. these arts are mostly unknown in the world. one kind relates to abuses of correspondences; a second to abuses of the outmosts of divine order; a third to the communication and influx of thoughts and affections by means of turning towards another, fixing the sight upon another, and by the instrumentality of other spirits apart from themselves, and spirits sent out by themselves; a fourth to operations by phantasies; a fifth to a kind of casting themselves out beyond themselves and consequent presence elsewhere than where they are in the body; a sixth to pretenses, persuasion, and lies. the spirit of an evil man enters of itself into these arts when he is released from his body, for they are inherent in the nature of the evil in which he then is. by these arts they torment each other in the hells. but as all of these arts, except those that are effected by pretenses, persuasions, and lies, are unknown in the world, i will not here describe them in detail, both because they would not be comprehended, and because they are too abominable to be told. . the lord permits torments in the hells because in no other way can evils be restrained and subdued. the only means of restraining and subduing evils and of keeping the infernal crew in bonds is the fear of punishment. it can be done in no other way; for without the fear of punishment and torment evil would burst forth into madness, and everything would go to pieces, like a kingdom on earth where there is no law and there are no penalties. . lxi. the appearance, situation, and number of the hells. in the spiritual world, that is, in the world where spirits and angels are, the same objects appear as in the natural world, that is, where men are. in external appearance there is no difference. in that world plains and mountains, hills and rocks, and valleys between them are seen; also waters, and many other things that are seen on earth. and yet all these things are from a spiritual origin, and all are therefore seen by the eyes of spirits and angels, and not by the eyes of men, because men are in the natural world. spiritual beings see such things as are from a spiritual origin, and natural beings such things as are from a natural origin. consequently man with his eyes can in no way see the objects that are in the spiritual world unless he is permitted to be in the spirit, or after death when he becomes a spirit. on the other hand, an angel or a spirit is unable to see any thing at all in the natural world unless he is with a man who is permitted to speak with him. for the eyes of man are fitted to receive the light of the natural world, and the eyes of angels and spirits are fitted to receive the light of the spiritual world; although the eyes of the two are exactly alike in appearance. that the spiritual world is such the natural man cannot comprehend, and least of all the sensual man, who believes nothing except what he sees with his bodily eyes and touches with his hands, and therefore takes in by sight and touch. as his thought is from such things it is material and not spiritual. such being the likeness between the spiritual world and the natural world, man can hardly believe after death that he is not in the world where he was born, and from which he has departed. for this reason death is called simply a translation from one world into another like it. (that the two worlds are thus alike can be seen above, where representatives and appearances in heaven have been treated of, n. - .) . the heavens are in the higher parts of the spiritual world, the world of spirits in the lower parts, and under both are the hells. the heavens are visible to spirits in the world of spirits only when their interior sight is opened; although they sometimes see them as mists or as bright clouds. this is because the angels of heaven are in an interior state in respect to intelligence and wisdom; and for this reason they are above the sight of those who are in the world of spirits. but spirits who dwell in the plains and valleys see one another; and yet when they are separated there, which takes place when they are let into their interiors, the evil spirits do not see the good spirits; but the good spirits can see the evil spirits. nevertheless, the good spirits turn themselves away from the evil spirits; and when spirits turn themselves away they become invisible. but the hells are not seen because they are closed up. only the entrances, which are called gates, are seen when they are opened to let in other like spirits. all the gates to the hells open from the world of spirits, and none of them from heaven. . the hells are everywhere, both under the mountains, hills, and rocks, and under the plains and valleys. the openings or gates to the hells that are under the mountains, hills, and rocks, appear to the sight like holes and clefts in the rocks, some extended and wide, and some straitened and narrow, and many of them rugged. they all, when looked into, appear dark and dusky; but the infernal spirits that are in them are in such a luminosity as arises from burning coals. their eyes are adapted to the reception of that light, and for the reason that while they lived in the world they were in thick darkness in respect to divine truths, because of their denying them, and were in a sort of light in respect to falsities because of their affirming them. in this way did the sight of their eyes become so formed. and for the same reason the light of heaven is thick darkness to them, and therefore when they go out of their dens they see nothing. all this makes it abundantly clear that man comes into the light of heaven just to the extent that he acknowledges the divine, and establishes in himself the things of heaven and the church; and that he comes into the thick darkness of hell just to the extent that he denies the divine, and establishes in himself what is contrary to the truths of heaven and the church. . the openings or gates to the hells that are beneath the plains and valleys present to the sight different appearances. some resemble those that are beneath the mountains, hills and rocks; some resemble dens and caverns, some great chasms and whirlpools; some resemble bogs, and some standing water. they are all covered, and are opened only when evil spirits from the world of spirits are cast in; and when they are opened there bursts forth from them either something like the fire and smoke that is seen in the air from burning buildings, or like a flame without smoke, or like soot such as comes from a burning chimney, or like a mist and thick cloud. i have heard that the infernal spirits neither see nor feel these things, because when they are in them they are as in their own atmosphere, and thus in the delight of their life; and this for the reason that these things correspond to the evils and falsities in which they are, fire corresponding to hatred and revenge, smoke and soot to the falsities therefrom, flame to the evils of the love of self, and a mist or thick cloud to falsities from that love. . i have also been permitted to look into the hells and to see what they are within; for when the lord wills, the sight of a spirit or angel from above may penetrate into the lowest depths beneath and explore their character, notwithstanding the coverings. in this way i have been permitted to look into them. some of the hells appeared to the view like caverns and dens in rocks extending inward and then downward into an abyss, either obliquely or vertically. some of the hells appeared to the view like the dens and caves of wild beasts in forests; some like the hollow caverns and passages that are seen in mines, with caverns extending towards the lower regions. most of the hells are threefold, the upper one appearing within to be in dense darkness, because inhabited by those who are in the falsities of evil; while the lower ones appear fiery, because inhabited by those who are in evils themselves, dense darkness corresponding to the falsities of evil, and fire to evils themselves. those that have acted interiorly from evil are in the deeper hells, and those that have acted exteriorly from evil, that is, from the falsities of evil, are in the hells that are less deep. some hells present an appearance like the ruins of houses and cities after conflagrations, in which infernal spirits dwell and hide themselves. in the milder hells there is an appearance of rude huts, in some cases contiguous in the form of a city with lanes and streets, and within the houses are infernal spirits engaged in unceasing quarrels, enmities, fightings, and brutalities; while in the streets and lanes robberies and depredations are committed. in some of the hells there are nothing but brothels, disgusting to the sight and filled with every kind of filth and excrement. again, there are dark forests, in which infernal spirits roam like wild beasts and where, too, there are underground dens into which those flee who are pursued by others. there are also deserts, where all is barren and sandy, and where in some places there are ragged rocks in which there are caverns, and in some places huts. into these desert places those are cast out from the hells who have suffered every extremity of punishment, especially those who in the world have been more cunning than others in undertaking and contriving intrigues and deceits. such a life is their final lot. . as to the positions of the hells in detail, it is something wholly unknown even to the angels in heaven; it is known to the lord alone. but their position in general is known from the quarters in which they are. for the hells, like the heavens, are distinguished by their quarters; and in the spiritual world quarters are determined in accordance with loves; for in heaven all the quarters begin from the lord as the sun, who is the east; and as the hells are opposite to the heavens their quarters begin from the opposite point, that is, from the west. (on this see the chapter on the four quarters in heaven, n. - .) [ ] for this reason the hells in the western quarter are the worst of all, and the most horrible, becoming gradually worse and more horrible by degrees the more remote they are from the east. in the western hells are those who in the world were in the love of self, and in consequent contempt of others, and in enmity against those who did not favor them, also in hatred and revenge against those who did not render them respect and homage. in the most remote hells in that quarter are those that had belonged to the catholic religion, so called, and that had wished to be worshiped as gods, and consequently had burned with hatred and revenge against all who did not acknowledge their power over the souls of men and over heaven. these continue to have the same disposition, that is, the same hatred and revenge against those who oppose them, that they had in the world. their greatest delight is to practice cruelties; but in the other life this delight is turned against themselves; for in their hells, with which the western quarter is filled, one rages against everyone who detracts from his divine power. (but more will be said about this in the treatise on the last judgment and the destruction of babylon.) [ ] nevertheless, no one can know how the hells in that quarter are arranged, except that the most dreadful hells of that kind are at the sides towards the northern quarter, and the less dreadful towards the southern quarter; thus the dreadfulness of the hells decreases from the northern quarter to the southern, and likewise by degrees towards the east. towards the east are the dwelling places of the haughty, who have not believed in the divine, and yet have not been in such hatred and revenge, or in such deceit, as those have who are in a greater depth in the western quarter. [ ] in the eastern quarter there are at present no hells, those that were there having been transferred to the western quarter in front. in the northern and southern quarters there are many hells; and in them are those who while in the world were in love of the world, and in various kinds of evil therefrom, such as enmity, hostility, theft, robbery, cunning, avarice, and unmercifulness. the worst hells of this kind are in the northern quarter, the milder in the southern. their dreadfulness increases as they are nearer to the western quarter, and also as they are farther away from the southern quarter, and decreases towards the eastern quarter and towards the southern quarter. behind the hells that are in the western quarter there are dark forests, in which malignant spirits roam like wild beasts; and it is the same behind the hells in the northern quarter. but behind the hells in the southern quarter there are deserts, which have been described just above. this much respecting the situation of the hells. . in regard to the number of the hells, there are as many of them as there are angelic societies in the heavens, since there is for every heavenly society a corresponding infernal society as its opposite. that the heavenly societies are numberless, and are all distinguished in accordance with the goods of love, charity, and faith, may be seen in the chapter that treats of the societies of which the heavens consist (n. - ), and in the chapter on the immensity of heaven (n. - ). the like is true, therefore, of the infernal societies, which are distinguished in accordance with the evils that are the opposites of those goods. [ ] every evil, as well as every good, is of infinite variety. that this is true is beyond the comprehension of those who have only a simple idea regarding every evil, such as contempt, enmity, hatred, revenge, deceit, and other like evils. but let them know that each one of these evils contains so many specific differences, and each of these again so many specific or particular differences, that a volume would not suffice to enumerate them. the hells are so distinctly arranged in order in accordance with the differences of every evil that nothing could be more perfectly ordered or more distinct. evidently, then, the hells are innumerable, near to and remote from one another in accordance with the differences of evils generically, specifically, and particularly. [ ] there are likewise hells beneath hells. some communicate with others by passages, and more by exhalations, and this in exact accordance with the affinities of one kind or one species of evil with others. how great the number is of the hells i have been permitted to realize from knowing that there are hells under every mountain, hill, and rock, and likewise under every plain and valley, and that they stretch out beneath these in length and in breadth and in depth. in a word, the entire heaven and the entire world of spirits are, as it were, excavated beneath, and under them is a continuous hell. thus much regarding the number of the hells. . lxii. the equilibrium between heaven and hell. for any thing to have existence there must be an equilibrium of all things. without equilibrium is no action and reaction; for equilibrium is between two forces, one acting and the other reacting, and the state of rest resulting from like action and reaction is called equilibrium. in the natural world there is an equilibrium in all things and in each thing. it exists in a general way even in the atmosphere, wherein the lower parts react and resist in proportion as the higher parts act and press down. again, in the natural world there is an equilibrium between heat and cold, between light and shade, and between dryness and moisture, the middle condition being the equilibrium. there is also an equilibrium in all the subjects of the three kingdoms of nature, the mineral, the vegetable, and the animal; for without equilibrium in them nothing can come forth and have permanent existence. everywhere there is a sort of effort acting on the one side and reacting on the other. [ ] all existence or all effect is produced in equilibrium, that is, by one force acting and another suffering itself to be acted upon, or when one force by acting flows in, the other receives and harmoniously submits. in the natural world that which acts and reacts is called force, and also endeavor [or effort]; but in the spiritual world that which acts and reacts is called life and will. life in that world is living force, and will is living effort; and the equilibrium itself is called freedom. thus spiritual equilibrium or freedom has its outcome and permanence in the balance between good acting on the one side and evil reacting on the other side; or between evil acting on the one side and good reacting on the other side. [ ] with the good the equilibrium is between good acting and evil reacting; but with the evil the equilibrium is between evil acting and good reacting. spiritual equilibrium is between good and evil, because the whole life of man has reference to good and to evil, and the will is the receptacle. there is also an equilibrium between truth and falsity, but this depends on the equilibrium between good and evil. the equilibrium between truth and falsity is like that between light and shade, in that light and shade affect the objects of the vegetable kingdom only so far as heat and cold are in them. that light and shade themselves have no effect, but only the heat that acts through them, is evident from the fact that light and shade are the same in winter time and in spring time. this comparison of truth and falsity with light and shade is from correspondence, for truth corresponds to light, falsity to shade, and heat to the good of love; in fact, spiritual light is truth, spiritual shade is falsity, and spiritual heat is good of love (see the chapter where light and heat in heaven are treated of, n. - ). . there is a perpetual equilibrium between heaven and hell. from hell there continually breathes forth and ascends an endeavor to do evil, and from heaven there continually breathes forth and descends an endeavor to do good. in this equilibrium is the world of spirits; which world is intermediate between heaven and hell (see above, n. - ). the world of spirits is in this equilibrium because every man after death enters first the world of spirits, and is kept there in a state like that which he was in while in the world, and this would be impossible if there were not a perfect equilibrium there; for by means of this the character of everyone is explored, since they then remain in the same freedom as they had in the world. spiritual equilibrium is freedom in man and spirit (as has been said just above, n. ). what each one's freedom is the angels recognize by a communication of affections and thoughts therefrom; and it becomes visible to the sight of angelic spirits by the ways in which the spirits go. good spirits there travel in the ways that go towards heaven, but evil spirits in the ways that go towards hell. ways actually appear in that world; and that is the reason why ways in the word signify the truths that lead to good, or in the opposite sense the falsities that lead to evil; and for the same reason going, walking, and journeying in the word signify progressions of life.{ } such ways i have often been permitted to see, also spirits going and walking in them freely, in accord with their affections and thoughts. {footnote } in the word "to journey," as well as "to go," signifies progression of life (n. , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). "to go (and to walk) with the lord" means to receive spiritual life, and to live with him (n. ). "to walk" means to live (n. , , , ). . evil continually breathes forth and ascends out of hell, and good continually breathes forth and descends out of heaven, because everyone is encompassed by a spiritual sphere; and that sphere flows forth and pours out from the life of the affections and the thoughts therefrom.{ } and as such a sphere flows forth from every individual, it flows forth also from every heavenly society and from every infernal society, consequently from all together, that is, from the entire heaven and from the entire hell. good flows forth from heaven because all there are in good; and evil flows forth from hell because all there are in evil. the good that is from heaven is all from the lord; for the angels in the heavens are all withheld from what is their own, and are kept in what is the lord's own, which is good itself. but the spirits in the hells are all in what is their own, and everyone's own is nothing but evil; and because it is nothing but evil it is hell.{ } evidently, then, the equilibrium in which angels are kept in the heavens and spirits in the hells is not like the equilibrium in the world of spirits. the equilibrium of angels in the heavens exists in the degree in which they have been willing to be in good, or in the degree in which they have lived in good in the world, and thus also in the degree in which they have held evil in aversion; but the equilibrium of spirits in hell exists in the degree in which they have been willing to be in evil, or have lived in evil in the world, and thus in heart and spirit have been opposed to good. {footnote } a spiritual sphere, which is a sphere of life, flows forth and pours forth from every man, spirit, and angel, and encompasses him (n. , , , ). it flows forth from the life of their affections and thoughts (n. , , ). the quality of spirits is recognized at a distance from their spheres (n. , , , ). spheres from the evil are the opposites of spheres from the good (n. , , ). such spheres extend far into angelic societies in accordance with the quality and quantity of good (n. - , , , ). and into infernal societies in accordance with the quality and quantity of evil (n. ). {footnote } man's self is nothing but evil (n. , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , ). man's self is hell in him (n. , ). . unless the lord ruled both the heavens and the hells there would be no equilibrium; and if there were no equilibrium there would be no heaven or hell; for all things and each thing in the universe, that is, both in the natural world and in the spiritual world, endure by means of equilibrium. every rational man can see that this is true. if there were a preponderance on one part and no resistance on the other would not both perish? so would it be in the spiritual world if good did not react against evil and continually restrain its uprising; and unless this were done by the divine itself both heaven and hell would perish, and with them the whole human race. it is said unless the divine itself did this, because the self of everyone, whether angel, spirit, or man, is nothing but evil (see above, n. ); consequently neither angels nor spirits are able in the least to resist the evils continually exhaling from the hells, since from self they all tend towards hell. it is evident, then, that unless the lord alone ruled both the heavens and the hells no one could ever be saved. moreover, all the hells act as one; for evils in the hells are connected as goods are in the heavens; and the divine alone, which goes forth solely from the lord, is able to resist all the hells, which are innumerable, and which act together against heaven and against all who are in heaven. . the equilibrium between the heavens and the hells is diminished or increased in accordance with the number of those who enter heaven and who enter hell; and this amounts to several thousands daily. the lord alone, and no angel, can know and perceive this, and regulate and equalize it with precision; for the divine that goes forth from the lord is omnipresent, and sees everywhere whether there is any wavering, while an angel sees only what is near himself, and has no perception in himself of what is taking place even in his own society. . how all things are so arranged in the heavens and in the hells that each and all of those who are there may be in their equilibrium, can in some measure be seen from what has been said and shown above respecting the heavens and the hells, namely, that all the societies of heaven are distinctly arranged in accordance with goods and their kinds and varieties, and all the societies of hell in accordance with evils, and their kinds and varieties; and that beneath each society of heaven there is a society of hell corresponding to it from opposition, and from this opposing correspondence equilibrium results; and in consequence of this the lord unceasingly provides that no infernal society beneath a heavenly society shall gain any preponderance, and as soon as it begins to do so it is restrained by various means, and is reduced to an exact measure of equilibrium. these means are many, only a few of which i will mention. some of these means have reference to the stronger presence of the lord; some to the closer communication and conjunction of one or more societies with others; some to the casting out of superabundant infernal spirits into deserts; some to the transference of certain spirits from one hell to another; some to the reducing of those in the hells to order, and this also is effected in various ways; some to the screening of certain hells under denser and thicker coverings, also letting them down to greater depths; besides other means; and still others that are employed in the heavens above the hells. all this has been said that it may in some measure be perceived that the lord alone provides that there shall be an equilibrium everywhere between good and evil, thus between heaven and hell; for on such equilibrium the safety of all in the heavens and of all on the earth rests. . it should be known that the hells are continually assaulting heaven and endeavoring to destroy it, and that the lord continually protects the heavens by withholding those who are in it from the evils derived from their self, and by holding them in the good that is from himself. i have often been permitted to perceive the sphere that flows forth from the hells, which was wholly a sphere of effort to destroy the divine of the lord, and thus heaven. the ebullitions of some hells have also at times been perceived, which were efforts to break forth and to destroy. but on the other hand the heavens never assault the hells, for the divine sphere that goes forth from the lord is a perpetual effort to save all; and as those who are in the hells cannot be saved, (since all who are there are in evil and are antagonistic to the divine of the lord,) so as far as possible outrages in the hells are subdued and cruelties are restrained to prevent their breaking out beyond measure one against another. this also is effected by innumerable ways in which the divine power is exercised. . there are two kingdoms into which the heavens are divided, the celestial kingdom and the spiritual kingdom (of which see above, n. - ). in like manner the hells are divided into two kingdoms, one of which is opposite to the celestial kingdom and the other opposite to the spiritual kingdom. that which is opposite to the celestial kingdom is in the western quarter, and those who are in it are called genii; and that which is opposite to the spiritual kingdom is in the northern and southern quarters, and those which are in it are called spirits. all who are in the celestial kingdom are in love to the lord, and all who are in the hells opposite to that kingdom are in the love of self; while all who are in the spiritual kingdom are in love towards the neighbor, and all who are in the hells opposite to that kingdom are in love of the world. evidently, then, love to the lord and the love of self are opposites; and in like manner love towards the neighbor and love of the world are opposites. the lord continually provides that there shall be no outflowing from the hells that are opposite the lord's celestial kingdom towards those who are in the spiritual kingdom; for if this were done the spiritual kingdom would perish (for the reason given above, n. , ). these are the two general equilibriums that are unceasingly maintained by the lord. . lxiii. by means of the equilibrium between heaven and hell man is in freedom. the equilibrium between heaven and hell has now been described, and it has been shown that it is an equilibrium between the good that is from heaven and the evil that is from hell, thus that it is a spiritual equilibrium, which in its essence is freedom. a spiritual equilibrium in its essence is freedom because it is an equilibrium between good and evil, and between truth and falsity, and these are spiritual. therefore to be able to will either what is good or what is evil and to think either what is true or what is false, and to choose one in preference to the other, is the freedom which is here treated of. this freedom is given to every man by the lord, and is never taken away; in fact, by virtue of its origin it is not man's but the lord's, since it is from the lord. nevertheless, it is given to man with his life as if it were his; and this is done that man may have the ability to be reformed and saved; for without freedom there can be no reformation or salvation. with any rational intuition any one can see that it is a part of man's freedom to be able to think wrongly or rightly, sincerely or insincerely, justly or unjustly; also that he is free to speak and act rightly, honestly, and justly; but not to speak and act wrongly, insincerely, and unjustly, because of the spiritual, moral, and civil laws whereby his external is held in restraint. evidently, then, it is man's spirit, which thinks and wills, that is in freedom, and not his external which speaks and acts, except in agreement with the above mentioned laws. . man cannot be reformed unless he has freedom, for the reason that he is born into evils of every kind; and these must be removed in order that he may be saved; and they cannot be removed unless he sees them in himself and acknowledges them, and afterwards ceases to will them, and finally holds them in aversion. not until then are they removed. and this cannot be done unless man is in good as well as in evil, since it is from good that he is able to see evils, while from evil he cannot see good. the spiritual goods that man is capable of thinking he learns from childhood by reading the word and from preaching; and he learns moral and civil good from his life in the world. this is the first reason why man ought to be in freedom. [ ] another reason is that nothing is appropriated to man except what is done from an affection of his love. other things may gain entrance, but no farther than the thought, not reaching the will; and whatever does not gain entrance into the will of man does not become his, for thought derives what pertains to it from memory, while the will derives what pertains to it from the life itself. only what is from the will, or what is the same, from the affection of love, can be called free, for whatever a man wills or loves that he does freely; consequently man's freedom and the affection of his love or of his will are a one. it is for this reason that man has freedom, in order that he may be affected by truth and good or may love them, and that they may thus become as if they were his own [ ] in a word, whatever does not enter into man's freedom has no permanence, because it does not belong to his love or will, and what does not belong to man's love or will does not belong to his spirit; for the very being [esse] of the spirit of man is love or will. it is said love or will, since a man wills what he loves. this, then, is why man can be reformed only in freedom. but more on the subject of man's freedom may be seen in the arcana coelestia in the passages referred to below. . in order that man may be in freedom, to the end that he may be reformed, he is conjoined in respect to his spirit both with heaven and with hell. for with every man there are spirits from hell and angels from heaven. it is by means of hell that man is in his own evil, while it is by means of angels from heaven that man is in good from the lord; thus is he in spiritual equilibrium, that is, in freedom. that angels from heaven and spirits from hell are joined to every man may be seen in the chapter on the conjunction of heaven with the human race (n. - ). . it must be understood that the conjunction of man with heaven and with hell is not a direct conjunction with them, but a mediate conjunction by means of spirits who are in the world of spirits. these spirits, and none from hell itself or from heaven itself, are with man. by means of evil spirits in the world of spirits man is conjoined with hell, and by means of good spirits there he is conjoined with heaven. because of this the world of spirits is intermediate between heaven and hell, and in that world is equilibrium itself. (that the world of spirits is intermediate between heaven and hell may be seen in the chapter on the world of spirits, n. - ; and that the essential equilibrium between heaven and hell is there may be seen in the preceding chapter, n. - .) from all this the source of man's freedom is evident. . something more must be said about the spirits that are joined with man. an entire society can have communication with another society, or with an individual wherever he is; by means of a spirit sent forth from the society; this spirit is called the subject of the many. the same is true of man's conjunction with societies in heaven, and with societies in hell, by means of spirits from the world of spirits that are joined with man. (on this subject see also the arcana coelestia in the passages referred to below.) . finally something must be said respecting man's intuition in regard to his life after death which is derived from the influx of heaven into man. there were some of the simple common people who had lived in the world in the good of faith who were brought back into a state like that in which they had been in the world, which can be done with any one when the lord grants it; and it was then shown what opinion they had held about the state of man after death. they said that some intelligent persons had asked them in the world what they thought about their soul after the life on earth; and they replied that they did not know what the soul is. they were then asked what they believed about their state after death; and they said that they believed that they would live as spirits. again they were asked what belief they had respecting a spirit; and they said that he is a man. they were asked how they knew this; and they said that they knew it because it is so. those intelligent men were surprised that the simple had such a faith, which they themselves did not have. this is a proof that in every man who is in conjunction with heaven there is an intuition respecting his life after death. this intuition is from no other source than an influx out of heaven, that is, through heaven from the lord by means of spirits from the world of spirits who are joined with man. this intuition those have who have not extinguished their freedom of thinking by notions previously adopted and confirmed by various arguments respecting the soul of man, which is held to be either pure thought, or some vital principle the seat of which is sought for in the body; and yet the soul is nothing but the life of man, while the spirit is the man himself; and the earthly body which he carries about with him in the world is merely an agent whereby the spirit, which is the man himself, is enabled to act fitly in the natural world. . what has been said in this work about heaven, the world of spirits, and hell, will be obscure to those who have no interest in learning about spiritual truths, but will be clear to those who have such an interest, and especially to those who have an affection for truth for the sake of truth, that is, who love truth because it is truth; for whatever is then loved enters with light into the mind's thought, especially truth that is loved, because all truth is in light. extracts from the arcana coelestia respecting the freedom of man, influx, and the spirits through whom communications are effected. freedom. all freedom pertains to love or affection, since whatever a man loves he does freely (n. , , , , , ). since freedom pertains to love it is the life of everyone (n. ). nothing appears to be man's own except what is from freedom (n. ). there is heavenly freedom and infernal freedom (n. , , , , ). [ ] heavenly freedom pertains to heavenly love, or the love of good and truth (n. , , ). and as the love of good and truth is from the lord freedom itself consists in being led by the lord (n. , , , , - , , , , - ). man is led into heavenly freedom by the lord through regeneration (n. , , , ). man must have freedom in order to be regenerated (n. , , , , , , , , ). in no other way can the love of good and truth be implanted in man, and appropriated by him seemingly as his own (n. , , , ). nothing is conjoined to man in a state of compulsion (n. , ). if man could be reformed by compulsion all would be saved (n. ). in reformation compulsion is harmful (n. ). all worship from freedom is worship, but worship from compulsion is not worship (n. , , , ). repentance must be effected in a free state, and repentance effected in a state of compulsion is of no avail (n. ). states of compulsion, what they are (n. ). [ ] it is granted to man to act from the freedom of reason, to the end that good may be provided for him, and this is why man has the freedom to think and will even what is evil, and to do it so far as the laws do not forbid (n. ). man is kept by the lord between heaven and hell, and thus in equilibrium, that he may be in freedom for the sake of reformation (n. , , , ). what is implanted in freedom endures, but not what is implanted under compulsion (n. ). for this reason no one is ever deprived of his freedom (n. , ). the lord compels no one (n. , ). compelling one's self is from freedom, but not being compelled (n. , ). a man ought to compel himself to resist evil (n. , , ). also to do good as if from himself, and yet to acknowledge that it is from the lord (n. , , , ). man has a stronger freedom in the temptation combats in which he conquers, since he then compels himself more interiorly to resist, although it appears otherwise (n. , , ). [ ] infernal freedom consists in being led by the loves of self and of the world and their lusts (n. , ). those who are in hell know no other freedom (n. ). heavenly freedom is as far removed from infernal freedom as heaven is from hell (n. , ). infernal freedom, which consists in being led by the loves of self and of the world, is not freedom but servitude (n. , ). for servitude is in being led by hell (n. , - ). influx. [ ] all things that man thinks and wills flow into him from experience (n. , - , , , , , , , , , - , , , ). man's capacity to give attention to subjects, to think, and to draw conclusions analytically, is from influx (n. , , ). man could not live a single moment if influx from the spiritual world were taken away from him; from experience (n. , , , ). the life that flows in from the lord varies in accordance with the state of man and in accordance with reception (n. , , , ). with those who are evil the good that flows in from the lord is changed into evil, and the truth into falsity; from experience (n. , ). the good and truth that continually flow in from the lord are received just to the extent that they are not hindered by evil and falsity (n. , , , ). [ ] all good flows in from the lord, and all evil from hell (n. , ). at the present day man believes that all things are in himself and are from himself, when in fact they flow in; and this he might know from the doctrine of the church, which teaches that all good is from god, and all evil from the devil (n. , , ). but if man's belief were in accord with this doctrine he would not appropriate evil to himself nor would he make good to be his own (n. , , ). how happy man's state would be if he believed that all good flows in from the lord and all evil from hell. (n. ). those who deny heaven or who know nothing about it do not know that there is any influx from heaven (n. , , , ). what influx is, illustrated by comparisons (n. , , ). [ ] everything of life flows in from the first fountain of life, because that is the source of it; and it continually flows in thus everything of life is from the lord (n. , , , , , , , - , - , , , , , , , - , , , ). influx is spiritual and not physical, that is, influx is from the spiritual world into the natural, and not from the natural into the spiritual (n. , , , , , , , ). influx is through the internal man into the external, or through the spirit into the body, and not the reverse, because the spirit of man is in the spiritual world, and his body in the natural (n. , , , , , , , , ). the internal man is in the spiritual world and the external in the natural world (n. , , , , , , , , - , , ). there is an appearance that there is an influx from the externals of man into internals, but this is a fallacy (n. ). with man there is influx into things rational, and through these into knowledges, and not the reverse (n. , , ). what the order of influx is (n. , , , , ). there is direct influx from the lord, and likewise mediate influx through the spiritual world or heaven (n. , , , , ). the lord's influx is into the good in man, and through good into truth, and not the reverse (n. , , , , , ). good gives the capacity to receive influx from the lord, but truth without good does not (n. ). nothing that flows into the thought is harmful, but only what flows into the will, since this is what is appropriated to man (n. ). [ ] there is a general influx (n. ). this is a continual effort to act in accordance with order (n. ). this influx is into the lives of animals (n. ). also into the subjects of the vegetable kingdom (n. ). it is in accord with this general influx that thought falls into speech with man, and will into acts and movements (n. , , , ). subject spirits. [ ] spirits sent forth from societies of spirits to other societies and to other spirits, are called "subjects" (n. , ). communications in the other life are effected by means of such emissary spirits (n. , , ). a spirit sent forth to serve as a subject does not think from himself, but thinks from those by whom he is sent forth (n. - ). many particulars relating to such spirits (n. , ). none intra muros _by_ rebecca ruter springer david c. cook publishing co. elgin, illinois copyright, , by david c. cook publishing co. elgin, illinois. author's preface. the pages of this little volume contain no fancy sketch, written to while away an idle hour; but are the true, though greatly condensed, record of an experience during days when life hung in the balance between time and eternity, with the scales dipping decidedly toward the eternity side. i am painfully aware of the fact that i can never paint for others the scenes as they appeared to me during those wonderful days. if i can only dimly show the close linking of the two lives--the mortal with the divine--as they then appeared to me, i may be able to partly tear the veil from the death we so dread, and show it to be only an open door into a new and beautiful phase of the life we now live. if any of the scenes depicted should seem irreverent in view of our religious training here, i can only say, "i give it as it came to me." in those strange, happy hours the close blending of the two lives, so wrapped about with the father's watchful care and tender love; the reunion of friends, with the dear earth-ties unchanged; the satisfied desires, the glad surprises and the divine joys, all intensified and illumined by the reverence and love and adoration that all hearts gave to the blessed trinity, appeared to me the most perfect revelation of that "blessed life" of which here we so fondly dream. with the hope that it may comfort and uplift some who read, even as it then did, and as its memory ever will do, for me, i submit this imperfect sketch of a most perfect vision. r.r.s. "_shall we stop at that poor line, the grave, which all our christianity is always trying to wipe out and make nothing of, and which we always insist on widening into a great gulf? shall we not stretch our thought beyond, and feel the life-blood of this holy church, this living body of christ, pulsing out into the saints who are living there, and coming back throbbing with tidings of their glorious and sympathetic life?_" --_rt. rev. phillips brooks, d. d._ chapter i. when the holy angels meet us, as we go to join their band, shall we know the friends that greet us, in the glorious spirit-land? shall we see the same eyes shining on us, as in days of yore? shall we feel their dear arms twining fondly 'round us as before? shall we know each other there? --[rev. r. lowry. i was many hundred miles away from home and friends, and had been very ill for many weeks. i was entirely among strangers, and my only attendant, though of a kindly disposition, knew nothing whatever of the duties of the sick room; hence i had none of the many delicate attentions that keep up an invalid's failing strength. i had taken no nourishment of any kind for nearly three weeks, scarcely even water, and was greatly reduced in both flesh and strength, and consciousness seemed at times to wholly desert me. i had an unutterable longing for the presence of my dear distant ones; for the gentle touch of beloved hands, and whispered words of love and courage; but they never came--they could not. responsible duties, that i felt must not be neglected, kept these dear ones much of the time in distant scenes, and i would not recall them. i lay in a large, comfortable room, on the second floor of a house in kentville. the bed stood in a recess at one end of the apartment, and from this recess a large stained-glass window opened upon a veranda fronting on the street. during much of my illness i lay with my face to this window, and my back to the room; and i remember thinking how easy it would be to pass through the window to the veranda, if one so desired. when the longing for the loved distant faces and voices became more than i could bear, i prayed that the dear christ would help me to realize his blessed presence; and that since the beloved ones of earth could not minister to me, i might feel the influence of the other dear ones who are "all ministering spirits." especially did i ask to be sustained should i indeed be called to pass through the dark waters alone. it was no idle prayer, and the response came swiftly, speedily. all anxieties and cares slipped away from me, as a worn-out garment, and peace, christ's peace, enfolded me. i was willing to wait god's time for the coming of those so dear to me, and said to myself, more than once, "if not here, it will be there; there is no fear of disappointment there." in those wonderful days of agonized suffering, and great peace, i felt that i had truly found, as never before, the refuge of "the everlasting arms." they lifted me; they upbore me; they enfolded me; and i rested in them, as a tired child upon its mother's bosom. one morning, dark and cold and stormy, after a day and night of intense suffering, i seemed to be standing on the floor by the bed, in front of the stained-glass window. some one was standing by me, and, when i looked up, i saw it was my husband's favorite brother, who "crossed the flood" many years ago. "my dear brother frank!" i cried out joyously, "how good of you to come!" "it was a great joy to me that i could do so, little sister," he said gently. "shall we go now?" and he drew me toward the window. i turned my head and looked back into the room that somehow i felt i was about to leave forever. it was in its usual good order: a cheery, pretty room. the attendant sat by the stove at the farther end, comfortably reading a newspaper; and on the bed, turned toward the window, lay a white, still form, with the shadow of a smile on the poor, worn face. my brother drew me gently, and i yielded, passing with him through the window, out on the veranda, and from thence, in some unaccountable way, down to the street. there i paused and said earnestly: "i cannot leave will and our dear boy." "they are not here, dear, but hundreds of miles away," he answered. "yes, i know, but they will be here. oh, frank, they will need me--let me stay!" i pleaded. "would it not be better if i brought you back a little later--after they come?" he said, with a kind smile. "would you surely do so?" i asked. "most certainly, if you desire it. you are worn out with the long suffering, and a little rest will give you new strength." i felt that he was right, said so in a few words, and we started slowly up the street. he had drawn my hand within his arm, and endeavored to interest me, as we walked. but my heart clung to the dear ones whom i felt i was not to see again on earth, and several times i stopped and looked wistfully back the way we had come. he was very patient and gentle with me, waiting always till i was ready to proceed again; but at last my hesitation became so great that he said pleasantly: "you are so weak i think i had better carry you;" and without waiting for a reply, he stooped and lifted me in his arms, as though i had been a little child; and, like a child, i yielded, resting my head upon his shoulder, and laying my arm about his neck. i felt so safe, so content, to be thus in his care. it seemed so sweet, after the long, lonely struggle, to have some one assume the responsibility of caring thus tenderly for me. he walked on with firm, swift steps, and i think i must have slept; for the next i knew, i was sitting in a sheltered nook, made by flowering shrubs, upon the softest and most beautiful turf of grass, thickly studded with fragrant flowers, many of them the flowers i had known and loved on earth. i remember noticing heliotrope, violets, lilies of the valley, and mignonette, with many others of like nature wholly unfamiliar to me. but even in that first moment i observed how perfect in its way was every plant and flower. for instance, the heliotrope, which with us often runs into long, ragged sprays, there grew upon short, smooth stems, and each leaf was perfect and smooth and glossy, instead of being rough and coarse-looking; and the flowers peeped up from the deep grass, so like velvet, with sweet, happy faces, as though inviting the admiration one could not withhold. and what a scene was that on which i looked as i rested upon this soft, fragrant cushion, secluded and yet not hidden! away, away--far beyond the limit of my vision, i well knew--stretched this wonderful sward of perfect grass and flowers; and out of it grew equally wonderful trees, whose drooping branches were laden with exquisite blossoms and fruits of many kinds. i found myself thinking of st. john's vision in the isle of patmos, and "the tree of life" that grew in the midst of the garden, bearing "twelve manner of fruits, and whose leaves were for the healing of the nations." beneath the trees, in many happy groups, were little children, laughing and playing, running hither and thither in their joy, and catching in their tiny hands the bright-winged birds that flitted in and out among them, as though sharing in their sports, as they doubtless were. all through the grounds, older people were walking, sometimes in groups, sometimes by twos, sometimes alone, but all with an air of peacefulness and happiness that made itself felt by even me, a stranger. all were in spotless white, though many wore about them or carried in their hands clusters of beautiful flowers. as i looked upon their happy faces and their spotless robes, again i thought, "these are they who have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the lamb." look where i would, i saw, half hidden by the trees, elegant and beautiful houses of strangely attractive architecture, that i felt must be the homes of the happy inhabitants of this enchanted place. i caught glimpses of sparkling fountains in many directions, and close to my retreat flowed a river, with placid breast and water clear as crystal. the walks that ran in many directions through the grounds appeared to me to be, and i afterward found were, of pearl, spotless and pure, bordered on either side by narrow streams of pellucid water, running over stones of gold. the one thought that fastened itself upon me as i looked, breathless and speechless, upon this scene, was "purity, purity!" no shadow of dust; no taint of decay on fruit or flower; everything perfect, everything pure. the grass and flowers looked as though fresh-washed by summer showers, and not a single blade was any color but the brightest green. the air was soft and balmy, though invigorating; and instead of sunlight there was a golden and rosy glory everywhere; something like the afterglow of a southern sunset in midsummer. as i drew in my breath with a short, quick gasp of delight, i heard my brother, who was standing beside me, say softly, "well?" and, looking up, i discovered that he was watching me with keen enjoyment. i had, in my great surprise and delight, wholly forgotten his presence. recalled to myself by his question, i faltered: "oh, frank, that i--" when such an overpowering sense of god's goodness and my own unworthiness swept over me that i dropped my face into my hands, and burst into uncontrollable and very human weeping. "ah!" said my brother, in a tone of self-reproach, "i am inconsiderate." and lifting me gently to my feet, he said, "come, i want to show you the river." when we reached the brink of the river, but a few steps distant, i found that the lovely sward ran even to the water's edge, and in some places i saw the flowers blooming placidly down in the depths, among the many-colored pebbles with which the entire bed of the river was lined. "i want you to see these beautiful stones," said my brother, stepping into the water and urging me to do the same. i drew back timidly, saying, "i fear it is cold." "not in the least," he said, with a reassuring smile. "come." "just as i am?" i said, glancing down at my lovely robe, which, to my great joy, i found was similar to those of the dwellers in that happy place. "just as you are," with another reassuring smile. thus encouraged, i, too, stepped into the "gently flowing river," and to my great surprise found the water, in both temperature and density, almost identical with the air. deeper and deeper grew the stream as we passed on, until i felt the soft, sweet ripples playing about my throat. as i stopped, my brother said, "a little farther still." "it will go over my head," i expostulated. "well, and what then?" "i cannot breathe under the water--i will suffocate." an amused twinkle came into his eyes, though he said soberly enough, "we do not do those things here." i realized the absurdity of my position, and with a happy laugh said, "all right; come on," and plunged headlong into the bright water, which soon bubbled and rippled several feet above my head. to my surprise and delight, i found i could not only breathe, but laugh and talk, see and hear, as naturally under the water as above it. i sat down in the midst of the many-colored pebbles, and filled my hands with them, as a child would have done. my brother lay down upon them, as he would have done on the green sward, and laughed and talked joyously with me. "do this," he said, rubbing his hands over his face, and running his fingers through his dark hair. i did as he told me, and the sensation was delightful. i threw back my loose sleeves and rubbed my arms, then my throat, and again thrust my fingers through my long, loose hair, thinking at the time what a tangle it would be in when i left the water. then the thought came, as we at last arose to return, "what are we to do for towels?" for the earth-thoughts still clung to me; and i wondered, too, if the lovely robe was not entirely spoiled. but behold, as we neared the shore and my head once more emerged from the water, the moment the air struck my face and hair i realized that i would need no towel or brush. my flesh, my hair, and even my beautiful garments, were soft and dry as before the water touched them. the material out of which my robe was fashioned was unlike anything that i had ever seen. it was soft and light and shone with a faint luster, reminding me more of silk crepe than anything i could recall, only infinitely more beautiful. it fell about me in soft, graceful folds, which the water seemed to have rendered even more lustrous than before. "what marvelous water! what wonderful air!" i said to my brother, as we again stepped upon the flowery sward "are all the rivers here like this one?" "not just the same, but similar," he replied. we walked on a few steps, and then i turned and looked back at the shining river flowing on tranquilly. "frank, what has that water done for me?" i said. "i feel as though i could fly." he looked at me with earnest, tender eyes, as he answered gently, "it has washed away the last of the earth-life, and fitted you for the new life upon which you have entered." "it is divine!" i whispered, "yes, it is divine," he said. chapter ii. o city of peace! in thy palaces fair loved faces and forms we can see; and sweet voices float to us thro' the calm air that whisper, "we're watching for thee!" we walked on for some distance in silence, my heart wrestling with the thoughts of the new, strange life, my eyes drinking in fresh beauty at every step. the houses, as we approached and passed them, seemed wondrously beautiful to me. they were built of the finest marbles, encircled by broad verandas, the roofs or domes supported by massive or delicate pillars or columns; and winding steps led down to the pearl and golden walks. the style of the architecture was unlike anything i had ever seen, and the flowers and vines that grew luxuriantly everywhere surpassed in beauty even those of my brightest dreams. happy faces looked out from these columned walls, and happy voices rang upon the clear air, from many a celestial home. "frank, where are we going?" at length i asked. "home, little sister," he answered tenderly. "home? have we a home, my brother? is it anything like these?" i asked, with a wild desire in my heart to cry out for joy. "come and see," was his only answer, as he turned into a side path leading toward an exquisitely beautiful house whose columns of very light gray marble shone through the green of the overhanging trees with most inviting beauty. before i could join him, i heard a well-remembered voice saying close beside me: "i just had to be the first to bid you welcome!" and looking around, i saw the dearly-beloved face of my old-time friend, mrs. wickham. "oh! oh!" i cried, as we met in a warm embrace. "you will forgive me, col. sprague," she said a moment later, giving her hand cordially to my brother. "it seems unpardonable to intercept you thus, in almost the first hour, but i heard that she was coming, and i could not wait. but now that i have looked upon her face, and heard her dear voice, i will be patient till i can have her for a long, long talk." "you must come in and see her now," said my brother cordially. "do, do come!" i urged. "no, dear friends, not now. you know, dear little blossom," (the old pet name for me years ago) "we have all eternity before us! but you will bring her to me soon, col. sprague?" she said. "just as soon as i may, dear madam," he replied, with an expressive look into her eyes. "yes, i understand," she said softly, with a sympathetic glance at me. then with a warm hand-clasp, and the parting injunction, "come very soon," she passed swiftly out of my sight. "blessed woman!" i said, "what a joy to meet her again!" "her home is not far away; you can often see her. she is indeed a lovely woman. now, come, little sister, i long to give you welcome to our home," saying which, he took my hand and led me up the low steps on to the broad veranda, with its beautiful inlaid floor of rare and costly marbles, and its massive columns of gray, between which, vines covered with rich, glossy leaves of green were intermingled with flowers of exquisite color and delicate perfume hanging in heavy festoons. we paused a moment here, that i might see the charming view presented on every side. "it is heavenly!" i said. "it is heavenly," he answered. "it could not be otherwise." i smiled my acknowledgment of this truth--my heart was too full for words. "the entire house, both below and above, is surrounded by these broad verandas. but come within." he led me through a doorway, between the marble columns, into a large reception hall, whose inlaid floor, mullioned window, and broad, low stairway at the far end, at once held my fancy. before i could speak, my brother turned to me, and, taking both my hands, said: "welcome, a thousand welcomes, dearest sister, to your heavenly home!" "is this beautiful place indeed to be my home?" i asked, as well as my emotion would allow. "yes, dear," he replied. "i built it for you and my brother, and i assure you it has been a labor of love." "it is your home, and i am to stay with you?" i said, a little confused. "no, it is your home, and i am to stay with you till my brother comes." "always, dear brother, always!" i cried, clinging to his arm. he smiled and said, "we will enjoy the present; we never will be far apart again. but come, i am eager to show you all." turning to the left, he led me, still through the beautiful marble columns that everywhere seemed substituted for doorways, into a large, oblong room, upon whose threshold i stopped in wondering delight. the entire walls and floor of the room were still of that exquisite light gray marble, polished to the greatest luster; but over walls and floors were strewn exquisite, long-stemmed roses, of every variety and color, from the deepest crimson to the most delicate shades of pink and yellow. "come inside," said my brother. "i do not wish to crush those perfect flowers," i answered. "well, then, suppose we gather some of them." i stooped to take one from the floor close to my feet, when lo! i found it was imbedded in the marble. i tried another with the same astonishing result, then turning to my brother, i said: "what does it mean? you surely do not tell me that none of these are natural flowers?" he nodded his head with a pleased smile, then said: "this room has a history. come in and sit with me here upon this window-seat, where you can see the whole room, and let me tell you about it." i did as he desired, and he continued: "one day as i was busily working upon the house, a company of young people, boys and girls, came to the door, and asked if they might enter. i gladly gave assent, and then one of them said: "'is this house really for mr. and mrs. sprague?' "'it is,' i answered. "'we used to know and love them. they are our friends, and the friends of our parents, and we want to know if we may not do something to help you make it beautiful?' "'indeed you may,' i said, touched by the request. 'what can you do?' "we were here at the time, and looking about, one of them asked, 'may we beautify this room?' "'undoubtedly,' i said, wondering what they would try to do. "at once the girls, all of whom had immense bunches of roses in their hands, began to throw the flowers broadcast over the floor and against the walls. wherever they struck the walls, they, to even my surprise, remained, as though in some way permanently attached. when the roses had all been scattered, the room looked just as it does now, only the flowers were really fresh-gathered roses. then the boys each produced a small case of delicate tools, and in a moment all, boys and girls, were down upon the marble floor and busy at work. how they did it i do not know--it is one of the celestial arts, taught to those of highly artistic tastes--but they embedded each living flower just where and as it had fallen, in the marble, and preserved it as you see before you. they came several times before the work was completed, for the flowers do not wither here, nor fade, but were always fresh and perfect. and such a merry, happy company of young people, i never saw before. they laughed and chatted and sang, as they worked; and i could not help wishing more than once that the friends whom they had left mourning for them might look in upon this happy group, and see how little cause they had for sorrow. at last when all was complete, they called me to see their work, and i was not chary of my praises either for the beauty of the work or for their skill in performing it. then, saying they would be sure to return when either of you came, they went away together, to do something of the kind elsewhere, i doubt not." happy tears had been dropping upon my hands, clasped idly in my lap, during much of this narrative, and now i asked half-brokenly, for i was greatly touched: "who were these lovely people, frank? do you know them?" "of course, i know them now; but they were all strangers to me till they came here that first morning, except lulu sprague." "who are they?" "there were three marys--mary green, mary bates, mary chalmers; lulu sprague and mae camden. these were the girls, each lovely and beautiful. the boys, all manly, fine fellows, were carroll ashland, stanley and david chalmers." "precious children!" i said. "how little i thought my love for them, in the olden days, would ever bring to me this added happiness here! how little we know of the links binding the two worlds!" "ah, yes!" said my brother, "that is just it. how little we know! if only we could realize while we are yet mortals, that day by day we are building for eternity, how different our lives in many ways would be! every gentle word, every generous thought, every unselfish deed, will become a pillar of eternal beauty in the life to come. we cannot be selfish and unloving in one life, and generous and loving in the next; the two lives are too closely blended--one but a continuation of the other. but come now to the library." rising, we crossed the room that henceforward was to hold for me such tender associations, and entered the library. it was a glorious apartment--the walls lined from ceiling to floor with rare and costly books. a large, stained-glass window opened upon the front veranda, and two large bow-windows, not far apart, were in the back of the room. a semicircular row of shelves, supported by very delicate pillars of gray marble, about six feet high, extended some fifteen feet into the spacious main room and cut it into two sections lengthwise, each with one of the bowed windows in the back, leaving still a large space beyond the dividing line, where the two sections united again into one. the concave side of the semicircle of shelves was toward the entrance of the room; and close to it, not far removed from the bowed window, stood a beautiful writing-desk, with everything ready for use; and upon it was a chaste golden bowl, filled with scarlet carnations, of whose spicy odor i had been dimly conscious for some time. "my brother's desk," said frank. "and his favorite flowers," i added. "yes, that follows. here we never forget the tastes and preferences of those we love." it is not to be supposed that these details were at once noticed by me, but they unfolded to me gradually as we lingered, talking together. my first sensation upon entering the room was genuine surprise at the sight of the books, and my first words were: "why, have we books in heaven?" "why not?" asked my brother. "what strange ideas we mortals have of the pleasures and duties of this blessed life! we seem to think that death of the body means an entire change to the soul. but that is not the case, by any means. we bring to this life the same tastes, the same desires, the same knowledge, we had before death. if these were not sufficiently pure and good to form a part of this life, then we ourselves may not enter. what would be the use of our ofttimes long lives, given to the pursuit of certain worthy and legitimate knowledge, if at death it all counts as nothing, and we begin this life on a wholly different line of thought and study? no, no; would that all could understand, as i said before, that we are building for eternity during our earthly life! the purer the thoughts, the nobler the ambitions, the loftier the aspirations, the higher the rank we take among the hosts of heaven; the more earnestly we follow the studies and duties in our life of probation, the better fitted we shall be to carry them forward, on and on to completion and perfection here." "but the books--who writes them? are any of them books we knew and loved below?" "undoubtedly, many of them; all, indeed, that in any way helped to elevate the human mind or immortal soul. then, many of the rarest minds in the earth-life, upon entering on this higher life, gain such elevated and extended views of the subjects that have been with them lifelong studies, that, pursuing them with zest, they write out for the benefit of those less gifted, the higher, stronger views they have themselves acquired, thus remaining leaders and teachers in this rarer life, as they were while yet in the world. is it to be expected that the great soul who has so recently joined our ranks, whose 'changed life' and 'pax vobiscum' uplifted so many lives while on earth, should lay his pen aside when his clear brain and great heart have read the mystery of the higher knowledge? not so. when he has conned his lessons well, he will write them out for the benefit of others, less gifted, who must follow. leaders there must always be, in this divine life, as in the former life--leaders and teachers in many varied lines of thought. but all this knowledge will come to you simply and naturally as you grow into the new life." chapter iii. when i shall meet with those that i have loved, clasp in my arms the dear ones long removed, and find how faithful thou to me hast proved, i shall be satisfied. --[horatius bonar. after a short rest in this lovely room among the books, my brother took me through all the remaining rooms of the house; each perfect and beautiful in its way, and each distinctly and imperishably photographed upon my memory. of only one other will i speak at this time. as he drew aside the gauzy gray draperies, lined with the most delicate shade of amber, which hung before the columned doorway of a lovely room on the second floor of the house, he said: "your own special place for rest and study." the entire second story of the house, indoors, instead of being finished in gray marble, as was the first floor, was finished with inlaid woods of fine, satiny texture and rare polish; and the room we now entered was exquisite both in design and finish. it was oblong in shape, with a large bowed window at one end, similar to those in the library, a portion of which was directly beneath this room. within this window, on one side, stood a writing desk of solid ivory, with silver appointments; and opposite was a case of well-filled bookshelves of the same material. among the books i found afterward many of my favorite authors. rich rugs, silver-gray in color, lay scattered over the floor, and all the hangings in the room were of the same delicate hue and texture as those at the entrance. the framework of the furniture was of ivory; the upholstering of chairs and ottomans of silver-gray cloth, with the finish of finest satin; and the pillows and covering of the dainty couch were of the same. a large bowl of wrought silver stood upon the table near the front window, filled with pink and yellow roses, whose fragrance filled the air; and several rarely graceful vases also were filled with roses. the entire apartment was beautiful beyond description; but i had seen it many times before i was fully able to comprehend its perfect completeness. only one picture hung upon the walls, and that was a life-size portrait of the christ, just opposite the couch. it was not an artist's conception of the human christ, bowed under the weight of the sins of the world, nor yet the thorn-crowned head of the crucified savior of mankind; but the likeness of the living master, of christ the victorious, of christ the crowned. the wonderful eyes looked directly and tenderly into your own, and the lips seemed to pronounce the benediction of peace. the ineffable beauty of the divine face seemed to illumine the room with a holy light, and i fell upon my knees and pressed my lips to the sandaled feet so truthfully portrayed upon the canvas, while my heart cried, "master, beloved master and savior!" it was long before i could fix my attention on anything else; my whole being was full of adoration and thanksgiving for the great love that had guided me into this haven of rest, this wonderful home of peace and joy. after some time spent in this delightful place, we passed through the open window on to the marble terrace. a stairway of artistically finished marble wound gracefully down from this terrace to the lawn beneath the trees, no pathway of any kind approaching at its foot--only the flowery turf. the fruit-laden branches of the trees hung within easy reach from the terrace, and i noticed as i stood there that morning seven varieties. one kind resembled our fine bartlett pear, only much larger, and infinitely more delicious to the taste, as i soon found. another variety was in clusters, the fruit also pear-shaped, but smaller than the former, and of a consistency and flavor similar to the finest frozen cream. a third, something like a banana in shape, they called bread-fruit; it was not unlike our dainty finger-rolls to the taste. it seemed to me at the time, and really proved to be so, that in variety and excellence, food for the most elegant repast was here provided without labor or care. my brother gathered some of the different varieties and bade me try them. i did so with much relish and refreshment. once the rich juice from the pear-like fruit (whose distinctive name i have forgotten, if indeed i ever knew it,) ran out profusely over my hands and the front of my dress. "oh!" i cried, "i have ruined my dress, i fear!" my brother laughed genially, as he said, "show me the stains." to my amazement not a spot could i find. "look at your hands," he said. i found them clean and fresh; as though just from the bath. "what does it mean? my hands were covered with the thick juice of the fruit." "simply," he answered, "that no impurity can remain for an instant in this air. nothing decays, nothing tarnishes, or in any way disfigures or mars the universal purity or beauty of the place. as fast as the fruit ripens and falls, all that is not immediately gathered at once evaporates, not even the seed remaining." i had noticed that no fruit lay beneath the trees--this, then, was the reason for it. "'and there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defiled!,'" i quoted thoughtfully. "yes, even so," he answered; "even so." we descended the steps and again entered the "flower-room." as i stood once more admiring the inlaid roses, my brother asked: "whom, of all the friends you have in heaven, do you most wish to see?" "my father and mother," i answered quickly. he smiled so significantly that i hastily turned, and there, advancing up the long room to meet me, i saw my dear father and mother, and with them my youngest sister. with a cry of joy, i flew into my father's outstretched arms, and heard, with a thrill of joy, his dear, familiar "my precious little daughter!" "at last! at last!" i cried, clinging to him. "at last i have you again!" "at last!" he echoed, with a deep-drawn breath of joy. then he resigned me to my dear mother, and we were soon clasped in each other's embrace. "my precious mother!" "my dear, dear child!" we cried simultaneously; and my sister enfolding us both in her arms, exclaimed with a happy laugh, "i can not wait! i will not be left outside!" and disengaging one arm, i threw it about her into the happy circle of our united love. oh, what an hour was that! i did not dream that even heaven could hold such joy. after a time my brother, who had shared our joy, said: "now, i can safely leave you for a few hours to this blessed reunion, for i have other work before me." "yes," said my father, "you must go. we will with joy take charge of our dear child." "then for a brief while good-by," said my brother kindly. "do not forget that rest, especially to one but recently entered upon the new life, is not only one of the pleasures, but one of the duties of heaven." "yes, we will see that she does not forget that," said my father, with a kindly smile and glance. chapter iv. o joys that are gone, will you ever return to gladden our hearts as of yore? will we find you awaiting us, some happy morn, when we drift to eternity's shore? will dear eyes meet our own, as in days that are past? will we thrill at the touch of a hand? o joys that are gone, will we find you at last on the shores of that wonderful land? soon after my brother's departure my mother said, grasping my hand: "come, i am eager to have you in our own home;" and we all passed out of the rear entrance, walked a few hundred yards across the soft turf, and entered a lovely home, somewhat similar to our own, yet still unlike it in many details. it also was built of marble, but darker than that of my brother's home. every room spoke of modest refinement and cultivated taste, and the home air about it was at once delightfully perceptible. my father's study was on the second floor, and the first thing i noticed on entering was the luxuriant branches and flowers of an old-fashioned hundred-leafed rose tree, that covered the window by his desk. "ah!" i cried, "i can almost imagine myself in your old study at home, when i look at that window." "is it not a reminder?" he said, laughing happily. "i almost think sometimes it is the same dear old bush, transplanted here." "and it is still your favorite flower?" i queried. he nodded his head, and said, smiling: "i see you remember still the childhood days." and he patted my cheek as i gathered a rose and fastened it upon his breast. "it seems to me this ought to be your home, dear; it is our father's home," said my sister wistfully. "nay," my father quickly interposed. "col. sprague is her legitimate guardian and instructor. it is a wise and admirable arrangement. he is in every way the most suitable instructor she could possibly have. our father never errs." "is not my brother's a lovely character?" i asked. "lovely indeed; and he stands very near to the master. few have a clearer knowledge of the divine will, hence few are better fitted for instructors. but i, too, have duties that call me for a time away. how blessed to know there can never again be long separations! you will have two homes now, dear child--your own and ours." "yes, yes!" i said. "i shall be here, i suspect, almost as much as there." at this moment a swift messenger approached my father and spoke a few low words. "yes, i shall go at once," he replied, and, waving his hand in adieu, departed with the angelic guide. "where do my father's duties mostly lie?" i asked my mother. "he is called usually to those who enter life with little preparation--that which on earth we call death-bed repentance. you know what wonderful success he always had in winning souls to christ; and these poor spirits need to be taught from the very beginning. they enter the spirit-life in its lowest phase, and it is your father's pleasant duty to lead them upward step by step. he is devoted to his work and greatly beloved by those he thus helps. he often allows me to accompany him and labor with him, and that is such a pleasure to me! and do you know"--with an indescribable look of happiness--"i forget nothing now!" it had been her great burden, for some years before her death, that memory failed her sadly, and i could understand and sympathize with her present delight. "dear heart!" i cried, folding my arms tenderly about her, "then it is like the early years of your married life again?" "precisely," she answered joyously. a little later my sister drew me tenderly aside and whispered, "tell me of my boy, of my precious son. i often see him; but we are not permitted to know as much always of the earthly life as we once believed we should. the father's tender wisdom metes out to us the knowledge he sees is best, and we are content to wait his time for more. all you can tell would not be denied me. is he surely, surely coming to me sometime? shall i hold him again in my arms, my darling boy?" "i am sure--yes, i am sure you will. your memory is very precious to him." then i told her all i could recall of the son with whom she had parted while he was but a child--now grown to man's estate, honored and loved, with home and wife and son to comfort and bless him. "then i can wait," she said, "if he is sure to come to me at last, when his earthly work is done, bringing his wife and son. how i shall love them, too!" at this moment i felt myself encircled by tender arms, and a hand was gently laid on my eyes. "who is it?" some one whispered softly. "oh, i know the voice, the touch!--dearest, dearest nell!" i cried, and, turning quickly, threw my arms about the neck of my only brother. he gathered me a moment warmly to his heart, then in his old-time playful way lifted me quite off my feet in his strong arms, saying: "she has not grown an inch; and is not, i believe, a day older than when we last parted! is she, joe?" turning to our sister. "it does not seem so," said my sister, "but i thought she would never come." "trust her for that!" he said. "but come, now; they have had you long enough for the first visit; the rest of us want you for awhile. come with us, jodie. mother, i may have them both for a little time, may i not? or will you come, too?" turning to our mother with a caressing touch. "i cannot go, dear boy; i must be here when your father returns. take your sisters; it is a blessed sight to see you all again together." "come then," he said; and, each taking one of my hands, we went out together. "halt!" he suddenly called, in his old-time military fashion, after a short walk, and we stopped abruptly in front of a dainty house built of the finest polished woods. it was beautiful both in architecture and finish. "how lovely!" i cried; and with a bow of charming humility he said: "the home of your humble servant. enter." i paused a moment on the wide veranda to examine a vine, wreathed about the graceful columns of highly-polished wood, and my brother laughingly said to my sister: "she is the same old sis! we will not get much good out of her until she has learned the name of every flower, vine and plant in heaven." "yes, you will," i said, shaking my head at his happy face, "but i mean to utilize you whenever i can; i have so much to learn." "so you shall, dear," he answered gently. "but come in." stepping inside a lovely vestibule, out of which opened, from every side, spacious rooms, he called softly "alma!" at once from one of these, a fair woman approached us. "my dear child!" i said, "it does not seem possible! you were but a child when i last saw you." "she is still her father's girl," said my brother, with a fond look. "she and carrie, whom you never saw, make a blessed home for me. where is your sister, daughter?" "she is at the great music-hall. she has a very rich voice that she is cultivating," alma said, turning to me. "we were going to find our aunt when she returned," she added. "true, true," said my brother; "but come." then they showed me the lovely home, perfect and charming in every detail. when we came out upon a side veranda, i saw we were so near an adjoining house that we could easily step from one veranda to the other. "there!" said my brother, lightly lifting me over the intervening space. "there is some one here you will wish to see." before i could question him, he led me through the columned doorway, saying, "people in heaven are never 'not at home' to their friends." the house we entered was almost identical in construction and finish with that of my brother nell, and, as we entered, three persons came eagerly forward to greet me. "dear aunt gray!" i cried. "my dear mary--my dear martin! what a joy to meet you again!" "and here," said my aunt reverently. "yes, here," i answered in like tone. it was my father's sister, always a favorite aunt, with her son and his wife. how we did talk and cling to one another, and ask and answer questions! "pallas is also here, and will, but they have gone with carrie to the music hall," said martin. "martin, can you sing here?" i asked. he always was trying to sing on earth, but could not master a tune. "a little," he answered, with his old genial laugh and shrug; "we can do almost anything here that we really try to do." "you should hear him now, cousin, when he tries to sing," said his wife, with a little touch of pride in her voice. "you would not know it was martin. but is it not nice to have dr. nell so near us? we are almost one household, you see. all felt that we must be together." "it is indeed," i answered, "although you no longer need him in his professional capacity." "no, thanks to the father; but we need him quite as much in many other ways." "i rather think i am the one to be grateful," said my brother. "but, sister, i promised frank that you should go to your own room awhile; he thought it wise that you should be alone for a time. shall we go now?" "i am ready," i answered, "though these delightful reunions leave no desire for rest." "how blessed," said my aunt, "that there is no limit here to our mutual enjoyment! we have nothing to dread, nothing to fear. we know at parting that we shall meet again. we shall often see each other, my child." then my brother went with me to my own home, and, with a loving embrace, left me at the door of my room. once within, i lay down upon my couch to think over the events of this wonderful day; but, looking upward at the divine face above me, i forgot all else, and, christ's peace enfolding me like a mantle, i became "as one whom his mother comforteth." while i lay in this blissful rest, my brother frank returned, and, without rousing me, bore me in his strong arms again to earth. i did not know, when he left us in our home, upon what mission he was going, though my father knew it was to return to my dear husband and accompany him upon his sad journey to his dead wife; to comfort and sustain and strengthen him in those first lonely hours of sorrow. they deemed it best, for wise reasons, that i should wait awhile before returning, and taste the blessedness of the new life, thus gaining strength for the trial before me. chapter v. are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?--heb. : . how oft do they their silver bowers leave, to come to succor us that succor want! how oft do they with golden pinions cleave the flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant, against fowle feendes to ayd us militant! they for us fight, they watch, and dewly ward, and their bright squadrons round about us plant. and all for love, and nothing for reward; o why should heavenly god to men have such regard! --[edmund spenser. when i aroused from my sleep it was in the gray light of earth's morning, and i was standing on the doorstep of the house in kentville that my brother and i had left together, some thirty-six hours before, reckoned by earth-time. i shuddered a little with a strange chill when i saw where we were, and turned quickly to my brother frank, who stood beside me. he put his arm about me, and with a reassuring smile, said: "for their sakes be brave and strong, and try to make them understand your blessed change." i did not try to answer, though i took heart, and entered with him into the house. everything was very quiet--no one seemed astir. my brother softly opened a door immediately to the right of the entrance, and motioned me to enter. i did so, and he closed it behind me, remaining himself outside. something stood in the center of the room, and i soon discovered that it was a pall. it was a great relief to me to see that it was not black, but a soft shade of gray. someone was kneeling beside it, and as i slowly approached i saw it was my dear son. he was kneeling upon one knee, with his elbow resting on the other knee, and his face buried in his hand. one arm was thrown across the casket, as though he were taking a last embrace of his "little mother." i saw that the form within the casket lay as though peacefully sleeping, and was clad in silver gray, with soft white folds about the neck and breast. i was grateful that they had remembered my wishes so well. i put my arms about the neck of my darling son, and drew his head gently against my breast, resting my cheek upon his bowed head. then i whispered, "dearest, i am here beside you--living, breathing, strong and well. will you not turn to me, instead of to that lifeless form in the casket? it is only the worn-out tenement--i am your living mother." he lifted his head as though listening; then, laying his hand tenderly against the white face in the casket he whispered, "poor, dear little mother!" and again dropped his face into both hands, while his form shook with convulsive sobs. as i strove to comfort him, the door opened and his lovely girl-wife entered. i turned to meet her as she came slowly towards us. midway in the room we met, and, taking both her hands tenderly in mine, i whispered, "comfort him, darling girl, as only you can; he needs human love." she paused a moment irresolutely, looking directly into my eyes, then passed on and knelt beside him, laying her upturned face against his shoulder. i saw his arm steal around her and draw her closely to him, then i passed from the room, feeling comforted that they were together. outside the door i paused an instant, then, slowly ascending the stairs, i entered the once familiar room, whose door was standing ajar. all remained as when i had left it, save that no still form lay upon the white bed. as i expected, i found my precious husband in this room. he sat near the bay window, his arm resting upon the table, and his eyes bent sorrowfully upon the floor. my heart's best friend sat near him and seemed trying to comfort him. when i entered the room our brother frank arose from a chair close beside him and passed out, with a sympathetic look at me. i went at once to my dear husband, put my arms about him, and whispered: "darling! darling, i am here!" he stirred restlessly without changing his position. virginia said, as though continuing a conversation, "i am sure she would say you left nothing undone that could possibly be done for her." "she is right," i whispered. "still she was alone at the last," he moaned. "yes, dear, but who could know it was the last? she sank so suddenly under the pain. what can i say to comfort you? oh, will, come home with us! she would want you to, i am sure." he shook his head sadly, while the tears were in his eyes, as he said: "work is my only salvation. i must go back in a very few days." she said no more, and he leaned back wearily in his easy-chair. i crept more closely to him and suddenly his arms closed about me. i whispered, "there, dear, do you not see that i am really with you?" he was very still, and the room was very quiet but for the ticking of my little clock still standing upon the dressing-case. presently i knew by his regular breathing that he had found a short respite from his sorrow. i slipped gently from his arms and went to my friend, kneeling beside her, and folding my arms about her. "virginia, virginia! you know i am not dead! why do you grieve?" she looked over at the worn face of the man before her, then dropped her face into her hand, whispering, as though she had heard me and would answer: "oh, bertha darling, how could you leave him?" "i am here, dearest! do realize that i am here!" she did not heed me, but sat absorbed in sorrowful thought. a few minutes later a stranger entered the room, and in a low voice said something about its being "near train time," and brought my husband his hat. he arose and gave his arm to virginia, and, our son and his wife meeting them at the door, they started to descend the stairs. just then my husband paused and cast one sorrowful glance around the room, his face white with pain. our dear daughter stepped quickly to him, and, placing both arms about his neck, drew his face down to hers. ("god bless her in all things!" i softly prayed.) an instant they stood thus, then stifling his emotion, they all passed down the stairs into the room i had first entered. i kept very close to my dear husband, and never for a single instant left him through all the solemn and impressive services; through the sad journey to our old home; the last rites at the grave; the after-meeting with friends; and his final return to the weary routine of labor. how thankful i was that i had been permitted to taste, during that wonderful day in heaven, the joys of the blessed life! how else could i ever have passed calmly through those trying scenes, and witnessed the sorrow of those so dear to my heart? i recognize the wisdom and mercy of the father in having so ordered it. i soon found that my husband was right; work was his great refuge. during the day the routine of labor kept brain and hands busy, leaving the heart but little opportunity to indulge its sorrow. night was his trying time. kind friends would stay with him till bedtime; after that he was alone. he would turn restlessly on his pillow, and often arise and go into the adjoining room that had formerly been mine, and gaze upon the vacant bed with tearful eyes. it took all my powers to in any degree soothe and quiet him. after a time my brother frank and i arranged to spend alternate nights with him, that he might never be alone, and especially were we with him upon his journeys. we found to our great joy that our influence over him was hourly growing stronger, and we were able to guide and help him in many ways. one night as i was silently watching beside him while he slept, many months after he was alone, i became conscious that evil threatened him. he was sleeping very peacefully, and i knew his dreams were happy ones by the smile upon his dear face. i passed into the hall of the hotel where he was staying, and found it dense with smoke. i hastened back to him and called, and tried to shake him, but he slept on peacefully. then i called with all my strength, "will!" close to his ear. instantly he started up and said, "yes, dear, i am coming!" just as he used to do when i called at night. then in a moment he sank back with a sigh upon his pillow, murmuring, "what a vivid dream! i never heard her voice more distinctly in life." "will!" i again called, pulling him by the hand with all my strength, "rise quickly! your life is in danger!" in an instant he was out of bed, upon his feet, and hurriedly drawing on his clothes. "i am sure i cannot tell why i am doing this," he muttered to himself. "i only feel that i must! that surely was her voice i heard." "hurry! hurry!" i urged. he opened the door and met, not only the smoke, but tongues of flame. "do not try the stairway--come!" and i drew him past the stairway, and through a narrow entrance to a second hall beyond, and down a second flight of stairs, filled with smoke, but as yet no flame. another flight still below these, then into the open air, where he staggered, faint and exhausted, on to the sidewalk, and was quickly helped by friends into a place of safety. "i am sure i cannot tell what wakened me," he afterward said to a friend. "i dreamed i heard my wife calling me, and before i knew it i was dressing myself." "you did hear her, i have no doubt," she said. "are they not 'all ministering spirits, sent forth to do service for the sake of them that shall inherit salvation'? what lovelier service could she do than to thus save the life of one so dear to her, whose earth-work was not yet done? yes, you did hear her call you in time to escape. thank god for such ministrations." "yes, it must be so," he answered, with a happy look. "thank god indeed." after this he yielded much more readily to our influence, and thus began to enjoy, while yet upon earth, the reunion that so surely awaited us in the blessed life. i often went also to the home of our dear children, but there was so much to make them happy that they did not need me as their father did. sometimes in hours of great physical prostration, especially during the absence of his wife, i found that i could quiet the overwrought nerves of my dear son, and lead his tired mind to restful thoughts; but with youth and strength and love to support him, the time had not yet come when my ministrations were essential. chapter vi. many friends that traveled with me reached heaven's portal long ago; one by one they left me battling with the dark and crafty foe. they are watching at the portal, they are waiting at the door; waiting only for my coming-- the beloved ones gone before. --[mrs. h. m. reasoner. the first time i returned to the dear heavenly home after my long delay on earth, as i approached the entrance, in the company of my brother frank, we saw a tall young man standing close by the open gate, looking wistfully the way we came. as we drew near, he said in an almost pathetic voice: "is my mother coming?" a closer scrutiny revealed his identity, and i exclaimed with joy, extending both hands to him, "my dear carroll!" he smiled a bright welcome as he extended his hands, but said wistfully, "i so hoped my mother would return with you, aunt, when you came back. did you see her?" "once only, for a brief moment. she is very happy and bears her years well. she will come to you now before long, but then you know it will be forever." "yes, i know," he answered brightly. "i will be patient. but," he added confidentially, "i so want her to see the lovely home i myself am building for her. will you come and see it?" "of course i will, gladly." "now?" "yes, if i may"; looking at my brother for his sanction. he nodded his head pleasantly as he said: "that is right, carroll. have her help you in every way you can. i will leave you two together, and you will bring her to me later?" "indeed, yes," said my nephew; and we went away happily together. "where is this wonderful house, carroll?" "not very far beyond mrs. wickham's," he said. we soon reached it, and i was truly charmed with it in every way. it was fashioned much like my brother nell's home, and was, like it, built of polished woods. it was only partly finished, and was most artistically done. although uncompleted, i was struck with the fact that everything was perfect so far as finished. there was no debris anywhere; no chips, no shavings, no dust. the wood seemed to have been perfectly prepared elsewhere--where, i have no idea. the pieces were made to fit accurately, like the parts of a great puzzle. it required much skill and artistic taste to properly adjust each to its place. this, my nephew, who even in the earthly life was quite a mechanical genius, seemed to have no difficulty in doing, and the house was slowly growing into beauty and symmetry. after showing me all over the house, he at last drew aside the hangings before an entrance, beyond which were two rooms, not only entirely finished, but beautifully furnished as well. "i finished and furnished these rooms complete, so that if mother came before the house was ready, she could occupy them at once. you know there is no noise from workmen here; no hammering, no unwelcome sounds." i thought at once of the temple of jerusalem, where, during its erection, there was "neither hammer, nor axe, nor any tool of iron heard in the house." "it is very beautiful, my dear boy," i said enthusiastically. "it will give her great joy to know you did it for her. but what is this--a fireplace?" pausing before a lovely open chimney, wherein wood was piled ready to be lighted. "is it ever cold enough here for fires?" "it is never cold," he answered, "but the fire here never sends out unneeded warmth. we have its cheer and beauty and glow, without any of its discomforts. you remember my mother loves to sit by an open fire; so i have arranged this for her." "it is charming! but you did not make the stained-glass windows also?" "no, i have a friend who has been taught that art, and we exchange work. he helps me with the windows, and i in turn help him with his fine woodwork and inlaying. i am going to make a 'flower room' for my mother similar to yours, only of lilies and violets, which will retain their perfume always." "how lovely! i want to thank you, dear carroll, for your share in our 'flower room.' it is the most exquisite work i ever saw; and it is doubly so when i remember whose hands fashioned it." "it was a labor of love with us all," he said simply. "that is what enhances its beauty for me," i said. "but sit here by me now, and tell me about yourself. do you spend all your time at this delightful work?" "oh, no, indeed! perhaps what we used to call two or three hours daily. much of my time is still spent with my grandfather r----. i do not know what i should have done when i first came here, but for him. i was so ignorant about this life, and came so suddenly." "yes, dear boy, i know," i said sympathetically. "he met me at the very entrance, and took me at once home, where he and grandma did everything possible to instruct and help me. but i was, i am still, far below what i ought to be. i would give a year out of this blessed life--i would even go back to the old life for an entire year--if i only could go to my old friends, or better, into every sunday-school in the world, and beseech the girls and boys to try to understand and profit by the instruction there received. why, i used to go to sunday-school, sunday after sunday, help sing the hymns, and read the lesson, and listen to all that was said; and i really enjoyed every moment of the time. sometimes i would feel a great longing after a better life, but there seemed to be no one to especially guide or help me, and, the greater part of the time, what i heard one sunday was never once spoken of or even thought of till another sunday came, so that the impression made was very transient. why do not boys and girls talk more together about what they hear at sunday-school? we were all ready enough to talk about a show of any kind, after it was over, but seldom of the sunday-school, when together socially. why do not teachers take more interest in the daily lives of their scholars? why is there so little really helpful talk in ordinary home life? oh, i wish i could go back and tell them this!" his face beamed with enthusiasm as he talked, and i, too, wished it might be possible for him to do as he desired. but alas! "they will not be persuaded even if one arise from the dead," i thought. "it is now time for me to go with my grandfather," he said, rising, "but we will walk together as far as your home; and you will let me often see you, will you not?" "gladly," i answered, as we set forth. we still conversed of many things, as we walked, and when we parted at the door i said, "i am soon to learn how to weave lovely draperies; then i can help you, when you are ready for them." "that will make my work more delightful still," was his reply, as he hastened on in the direction of my father's home. chapter vii. she is not dead--the child of our affection-- but gone unto that school where she no longer needs our poor protection, and christ himself doth rule. day after day we think what she is doing in those bright realms of air; year after year, her tender steps pursuing, behold her grown more fair. --[longfellow. hark! 'tis the voice of angels borne in a song to me, over the fields of glory, over the jasper sea! --[w. h. doane. as time passed, and i grew more accustomed to the heavenly life around me, i found its loveliness unfolded to me like the slow opening of a rare flower. delightful surprises met me at every turn. now a dear friend, from whom i had parted years ago in the earth-life, would come unexpectedly upon me with cordial greeting; now one--perhaps on earth greatly admired, but from whom i had held aloof, from the fear of unwelcome intrusion--would approach me, showing the lovely soul so full of responsive kindness and congenial thought, that i could but feel a pang of regret for what i had lost. then the clear revelation of some truth, only partly understood in life, though eagerly sought for, would stand out clear and strong before me, overwhelming me with its lustre, and perhaps showing the close tie linking the earth-life with the divine. but the most wonderful to me was the occasional meeting with some one whom i had never hoped to meet "over there," who, with eager handclasp and tearful eyes, would pour forth his earnest thanks for some helpful word, some solemn warning, or even some stern rebuke, that had turned him, all unknown to myself, from the paths of sin into the "life everlasting." oh, the joy to me of such a revelation! oh, the regret that my earth-life had not been more full of such work for eternity! my first impulse daily on arousing from happy, blissful rest, was to hasten to the "river of life" and plunge into its wonderful waters, so refreshing, so invigorating, so inspiring. with a heart full of thanksgiving and lips full of joyful praise, morning after morning, sometimes in company with my brother, sometimes alone, i hastened thither, returning always full of new life and hope and purpose to our home, where for a time each day i listened to the entrancing revelations and instructions of my brother. one morning, soon after my return from my first visit to earth, as i was on the way to the river, my voice joined to the wonderful anthem of praise everywhere sounding, i saw a lovely young girl approaching me swiftly, with outstretched arms. "dear, dear aunt bertha!" she called, as she drew near, "do you not know me?" "my little mae!" i cried, gathering the dainty creature into my arms. "where did you spring from so suddenly, dear? let me look at you again!" holding her a moment at arm's length, only to draw her again tenderly to me. "you have grown very beautiful, my child. i may say this to you here without fear, i am sure. you were always lovely; you are simply radiant now. is it this divine life?" "yes," she said modestly and sweetly; "but most of all the being near the savior so much." "ah, yes, that is it--the being near him! that will make any being radiant and beautiful," i said. "he is so good to me; so generous, so tender! he seems to forget how little i have done to deserve his care." "he knows you love him, dear heart; that means everything to him." "love him! oh, if loving him deserves reward, i am sure i ought to have every wish of my heart, for i love him a thousandfold better than anything in earth or heaven. i would die for him!" the sweet face grew surpassingly radiant and beautiful as she talked, and i began to dimly understand the wonderful power of christ among the redeemed in heaven. this dear child, so lovely in all mortal graces, so full of earth's keenest enjoyments during the whole of her brief life--pure and good, as we count goodness below, yet seemingly too absorbed in life's gayeties to think deeply of the things she yet in her heart revered and honored, now in this blessed life counted the privilege of loving christ, of being near him, beyond every other joy! and how that love refined and beautified the giver! as a great earthly love always shines through the face and elevates the whole character of the one who loves, so this divine love uplifts and glorifies the giver, until not only the face but the entire person radiates the glory that fills the heart. "come with me to the river, mae," i said presently, after we had talked together for some time; "come with me for a delightful plunge." "gladly," she said; "but have you ever been to the lake or the sea?" "the lake or the sea?" i echoed. "no indeed. are there a lake and sea here?" "certainly there are," said mae, with a little pardonable pride that she should know more of the heavenly surroundings than i. "shall we go to the lake to-day, and leave the sea for another day? which shall it be?" "let it be the lake to-day," i said. so, turning in an entirely different direction from the path that led to the river, we walked joyously on, still talking as we went. so much to ask, so much to recall, so much to look forward to with joy! once she turned to me and asked quickly: "when is my uncle will coming?" my hand closed tightly over hers, and a sob almost rose in my throat, though i answered calmly: "that is in god's hands alone; we may not question." "yes, i know. his will is always right; but i so long to see my dear uncle again; and to 'long' is not to repine." she had grown so womanly, so wise, this child of tender years, since we parted, that it was a joy to talk with her. i told her of my sad errand to earth, and the sorrow of the dear ones i had left. "yes, yes, i know it all!" she whispered, with her soft arms about me. "but it will not be long to wait. they will come soon. it never seems long to wait for anything here. there is always so much to keep one busy; so many pleasant duties, so many joys--oh, it will not be long!" thus she cheered and comforted me as we walked through the ever-varying and always perfect landscape. at length she cried, lifting her arm and pointing with her rosy finger: "behold! is it not divinely beautiful?" i caught my breath, then stopped abruptly and covered my face with my hands to shield my eyes from the glorified scene. no wonder my brother had not sooner brought me to this place; i was scarcely yet spiritually strong enough to look upon it. when i again slowly lifted my head, mae was standing like one entranced. the golden morning light rested upon her face, and, mingling with the radiance that had birth within, almost transfigured her. even she, so long an inhabitant here, had not yet grown accustomed to its glory. "look, darling auntie! it is god's will that you should see," she softly whispered, not once turning her eyes away from the scene before her. "he let me be the one to show you the glory of this place!" i turned and looked, like one but half awakened. before us spread a lake as smooth as glass, but flooded with a golden glory caught from the heavens, that made it like a sea of molten gold. the blossom- and fruit-bearing trees grew down to its very border in many places, and far, far away, across its shining waters, arose the domes and spires of what seemed to be a mighty city. many people were resting upon its flowery banks, and on the surface of the water were boats of wonderful structure, filled with happy souls, and propelled by an unseen power. little children, as well as grown persons, were floating upon or swimming in the water; and as we looked a band of singing cherubs, floating high overhead, drifted across the lake, their baby voices borne to us where we stood, in notes of joyful praise. "come," said mae, seizing my hand, "let us join them"; and we hastened onward. "glory and honor!" sang the child voices. "dominion and power!" caught up and answered the voices of the vast multitude together, and in the strain i found that mae and i were joining. the cherub band floated onward, and away in the distance we caught the faint melody of their sweet voices, and the stronger cadence of the response from those waiting below. we stood upon the margin of the lake, and my cheeks were tear-bedewed and my eyes dim with emotion. i felt weak as a little child; but oh, what rapture, what joy unspeakable filled and overmastered me! was i dreaming? or was this indeed but another phase of the immortal life? mae slipped her arm about my neck and whispered, "dearest, come. after the rapture--rest." i yielded to her passively; i could not do otherwise. she led me into the water, down, down into its crystal depths, and when it seemed to me we must be hundreds of feet beneath the surface, she threw herself prostrate and bade me do the same. i did so, and immediately we began to slowly rise. presently i found that we no longer rose, but were slowly floating in mid-current, many feet still beneath the surface. then appeared to me a marvel. look where i would, perfect prismatic rays surrounded me. i seemed to be resting in the heart of a prism; and such vivid yet delicate coloring, mortal eyes never rested upon. instead of the seven colors, as we see them here, the colors blended in such rare graduation of shades as to make the rays seem almost infinite, or they really were so; i could not decide which. as i lay watching this marvelous panorama, for the colors deepened and faded like the lights of the aurora borealis, i was attracted by the sound of distant music. although mae and i no longer clung together, we did not drift apart, as one would naturally suppose we might, but lay within easy speaking-distance of each other, although few words were spoken by either of us; the silence seemed too sacred to be lightly broken. we lay upon, or rather within, the water, as upon the softest couch. it required no effort whatever to keep ourselves afloat; the gentle undulation of the waves soothed and rested us. when the distant music arrested my attention, i turned and looked at mae. she smiled back at me, but did not speak. presently i caught the words, "glory and honor, dominion and power," and i knew it was still the cherub choir, although they must now be many miles distant. then the soft tones of a bell--a silver bell with silver tongue--fell on my ear, and as the last notes died away, i whispered: "tell me, mae." "yes, dear, i will. the waters of this lake catch the light in a most marvelous manner, as you have seen; a wiser head than mine must tell you why. they also transmit musical sounds--only musical sounds--for a great distance. the song was evidently from the distant shore of the lake." "and the bell?" "that is the bell which in the city across the lake calls to certain duties at this hour." "there never was a sweeter call to duty," i said. "yes, its notes are beautiful. hark! now it rings a chime." we lay and listened, and as we listened a sweet spell wrapped me round, and i slept as peacefully as a child on its mother's bosom. i awoke with a strange sense of invigoration and strength. it was a feeling wholly dissimilar to that experienced during a bath in the river, yet i could not explain how. mae said: "one takes away the last of the earth-life, and prepares us for the life upon which we enter; the other fills us to overflowing with a draught from the celestial life itself." and i think the child was right. when we emerged from the water we found the banks of the lake almost deserted, every one having gone, at the call of the bell, to the happy duties of the hour. groups of children still played around in joyous freedom. some climbed the trees that overhung the water, with the agility of squirrels, and dropped with happy shouts of laughter into the lake, floating around upon its surface like immense and beautiful water-lilies or lotus flowers. "no fear of harm or danger; no dread of ill, or anxiety lest a mishap occur; security, security and joy and peace! this is indeed the blessed life," i said, as we stood watching the sports of the happy children. "i often think how we were taught to believe that heaven was where we would wear crowns of gold and stand with harps always in our hands! our crowns of gold are the halos his blessed presence casts about us; and we do not need harps to accentuate our songs of praise. we do see the crowns, and we do hear the angelic harps, when and as god wills it, but our best worship is to do his blessed will," said mae as we turned to go. "you are wise in the lore of heaven, my child," i answered; "how happy i am to learn from one so dear! tell me all about your life here." so as we walked she told me the history of her years in heaven her duties, her joys, her friends, her home--with all the old-time freedom. i found her home was distant from our own--far beyond the spires of the great city across the lake--but she added: "what is distance in heaven? we come and go at will. we feel no fatigue, no haste, experience no delays; it is blessed, blessed!" not far from our home we saw a group of children playing upon the grass, and in their midst was a beautiful great dog, over which they were rolling and tumbling with the greatest freedom. as we approached he broke away from them and came bounding to meet us, and crouched and fawned at my very feet with every gesture of glad welcome. "do you not know him, auntie?" mae asked brightly. "it is dear old sport!" i cried, stooping and placing my arms about his neck, and resting my head on his silken hair. "dear old fellow! how happy i am to have you here!" he responded to my caresses with every expression of delight, and mae laughed aloud at our mutual joy. "i have often wondered if i should not some day find him here. he surely deserves a happy life for his faithfulness and devotion in the other life. his intelligence and his fidelity were far above those of many human beings whom we count immortal." ====================================================================== [illustration: "hark! 'tis the voice of angels] "hark! 'tis the voice of angels born in a song to me, over the fields of glory, over the jasper sea!"] ====================================================================== "did he not sacrifice his life for little will?" "yes; he attempted to cross the track in front of an approaching train, because he saw it would pass between him and his little master, and feared he was in danger. it cost his life. he always placed himself between any of us and threatened danger, but will he seemed to consider his especial charge. he was a gallant fellow--he deserves immortality. dear, dear old sport, you shall never leave me again!" i said, caressing him fondly. at this he sprang to his feet, barking joyously, and gambolled and frolicked before us the rest of the way home, then lay down upon the doorstep, with an upward glance and a wag of his bushy tail, as though to say, "see how i take you at your word!" "he understands every word we say," said mae. "of course he does; he only lacks speech to make him perfect. i somehow hoped he might find it here." "he would not be half so interesting if he could talk," said mae. "possibly not. how silken and beautiful his long hair is!" "he has his bath in the river every day, and it leaves its mark on him also. do you know i think one of the sweetest proofs we have of the father's loving care for us is, that we so often find in this life the things which gave us great happiness below. the more unexpected this is, the greater joy it brings. i remember once seeing a beautiful little girl enter heaven, the very first to come of a large and affectionate family. i afterward learned that the sorrowful cry of her mother was, 'oh, if only we had someone there to meet her, to care for her!' she came, lovingly nestled in the master's own arms, and a little later, as he sat, still caressing and talking to her, a remarkably fine angora kitten, of which the child had been very fond, and which had sickened and died some weeks before, to her great sorrow, came running across the grass and sprang directly into her arms, where it lay contentedly. such a glad cry as she recognized her little favorite, such a hugging and kissing as that kitten received, made joy even in heaven! who but our loving father would have thought of such comfort for a little child? she had evidently been a timid child; but now as the children gathered about her, with the delightful freedom they always manifest in the presence of the beloved master, she, looking up confidingly into the tender eyes above her, began to shyly tell of the marvelous intelligence of her dumb pet, until at last jesus left her contentedly playing among the flowers with the little companions who had gathered about her. our father never forgets us, but provides pleasures and comforts for us all, according to our individual needs." "when shall i behold the savior? when shall i meet, face to face, him whom my soul so loveth?" my hungry heart began to cry out in its depths. mae, as though understanding the silent cry, placed both arms about my neck, looked tenderly into my eyes, and whispered: "you, too, dearest, will see him soon. he never delays when the time is ripe for his coming. it will not be long; you, too, will see him soon." so we parted, each to the duties of the hour. chapter viii. sae little noo i ken o' blessed, bonnie place, i only ken it's hame, whaur we shall see his face it wad surely be eneuch forever mair to be in the glory o' his presence, in oor ain countrie. like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest, i wad fain be gangin' noo unto my savior's breast, for he gathers in his bosom witless, worthless lambs like me, and carries them himsel' to his ain countrie. --[mary lee demarest. the following morning my brother said to me, after an interesting hour of instruction: "shall we go for the promised visit to mrs. wickham now?" "indeed, yes!" i answered eagerly; so we at once set forth. we soon reached her lovely home and found her waiting at the entrance as though expecting us. after a cordial greeting to our friend, my brother said: "i will leave you together for that 'long talk' for which i know you are both eager, and will go my way to other duties. i will find you, later on, at home." the last remark to me. "all right," i answered. "i am familiar with the way now, and need no attendance." after he had gone, my friend took me all over her lovely home, showing me, with great pleasure, the rooms prepared for each beloved member of her earthly household still to come. one very large room, into whose open windows at each end the blossom- and fruit-laden boughs of the immortal trees looked invitingly, was evidently her especial care; she whispered to me, "douglass always did like a large room. i am sure he will like this one." and i was also sure. returning down the broad stairway, we found it entered into a very large music-room, with broad galleries supported by marble columns, running across three sides of it, on a level with the second floor. in this gallery was a number of musical instruments--harps, viols, and some unlike any instruments i had ever seen elsewhere. the room itself was filled with easy-chairs, couches and window-seats, where listeners could rest and hear the sweet harmonies from the galleries. "my daughter," my friend explained, "who left us in early childhood, has received a fine musical training here, and is fond of gathering in her young friends and giving us quite often a musical treat. you know our old home of springville has furnished some rare voices for the heavenly choirs. mary allis, will griggs, and many others you will often hear in this room, i trust." we re-entered, from this room, the dainty reception hall opening upon the front veranda and outer steps. here mrs. wickham drew me to a seat beside her and said: "now, tell me everything of the dear home and all its blessed inmates." holding each other's hands as we talked, she questioning, i answering, things too sacred to be repeated here were dwelt upon for hours. at last she said, rising hastily: "i will leave you for a little while--nay, you must not go," as i would have risen, "there is much yet to be said; wait here, i will return." i had already learned not to question the judgment of these wiser friends, and yielded to her will. as she passed through the doorway to the inner house, i saw a stranger at the front entrance and arose to meet him. he was tall and commanding in form, with a face of ineffable sweetness and beauty. where had i seen him before? surely, surely i had met him since i came. "ah, now i know!" i thought; "it is st. john, the beloved disciple." he had been pointed out to me one morning by the river-side. "peace be unto this house," was his salutation as he entered. how his voice stirred and thrilled me! no wonder the master loved him, with that voice and that face! "enter. thou art a welcome guest. enter, and i will call the mistress," i said, as i approached to bid him welcome. "nay, call her not. she knows that i am here; she will return," he said. "sit thou awhile beside me," he continued, as he saw that i still stood, after i had seen him seated. he arose and led me to a seat near him, and like a child i did as i was bidden; still watching, always watching, the wonderful face before me. "you have but lately come?" he said. "yes, i am here but a short time. so short that i know not how to reckon time as you count it here," i answered. "ah, that matters little," he said with a gentle smile. "many cling always to the old reckoning and the earth-language. it is a link between the two lives; we would not have it otherwise. how does the change impress you? how do you find life here?" "ah," i said, "if they could only know! i never fully understood till now the meaning of that sublime passage, 'eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which god hath prepared for them that love him.' it is indeed past human conception." i spoke with deep feeling. "'for them that love him'? do you believe that all christians truly love him?" he asked. "do you think they love the father for the gift of the son and the son because of the father's love and mercy? or is their worship ofttimes that of duty rather than love?" he spoke reflectively and gently. "oh," i said, "you who so well know the beloved master--who were so loved by him--how can you doubt the love he must inspire in all hearts who seek to know him?" a radiant glow overspread the wonderful face, which he lifted, looking directly at me--the mist rolled away from before my eyes--and i knew him! with a low cry of joy and adoration, i threw myself at his feet, bathing them with happy tears. he gently stroked my bowed head for a moment, then rising, lifted me to his side. "my savior--my king!" i whispered, clinging closely to him. "yes, and elder brother and friend," he added, wiping away tenderly the tears stealing from beneath my closed eyelids. "yes, yes, 'the chiefest among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely!'" again i whispered. "ah, now you begin to meet the conditions of the new life! like many another, the changing of faith to sight with you has engendered a little shrinking, a little fear. that is all wrong. have you forgotten the promise, 'i go to prepare a place for you; that where i am, there ye may be also'? if you loved me when you could not see me except by faith, love me more now when we have really become 'co-heirs of the father.' come to me with all that perplexes or gladdens; come to the elder brother always waiting to receive you with joy." then he drew me to a seat, and conversed with me long and earnestly, unfolding many of the mysteries of the divine life. i hung upon his words; i drank in every tone of his voice; i watched eagerly every line of the beloved face; and i was exalted, uplifted, upborne, beyond the power of words to express. at length with a divine smile, he arose. "we will often meet," he said; and i, bending over, pressed my lips reverently to the hand still clasping my own. then laying his hands a moment in blessing upon my bowed head, he passed noiselessly and swiftly from the house. as i stood watching the savior's fast-receding figure, passing beneath the flower-laden trees, i saw two beautiful young girls approaching the way he went. with arms intertwining they came, happily conversing together, sweet mary bates and mae camden. when they saw the master, with a glad cry they flew to meet him, and as he joyously extended a hand to each, they turned, and each clinging to his hand, one upon either side, accompanied him on his way, looking up trustingly into his face as he talked with them, and apparently conversing with him with happy freedom. i saw his face from time to time in profile, as he turned and looked down lovingly, first upon one, then the other lovely upturned face, and i thought, "that is the way he would have us be with him--really as children with a beloved elder brother." i watched them till the trees hid them from my sight, longing to gather the dear girls to my heart, but knowing his presence was to them then more than aught else; then i turned and passed softly through the house to the beautiful entrance at the rear. just before i reached the door i met my friend mrs. wickham. before i could speak, she said: "i know all about it. do not try to speak; i know your heart is full. i will see you very soon--there, go!" and she pushed me gently to the door. how my heart blessed her--for it indeed seemed sacrilege to try to talk on ordinary topics after this blessed experience. i did not follow the walk, but kept across the flowery turf, beneath the trees, till i reached home. i found my brother sitting upon the veranda, and as i ascended the steps he rose to meet me. when he looked into my face, he took both hands into his for an instant, and simply said, very gently: "ah, i see. you have been with the master!" and stepped aside almost reverently for me to enter the house. i hastened to my room, and, dropping the draperies behind me at the door, i threw myself upon the couch, and with closed eyes lived over every instant i had spent in that hallowed presence. i recalled every word and tone of the savior's voice, and fastened the instructions he had given me indelibly upon my memory. i seemed to have been lifted to a higher plane of existence, to have drunk deeper draughts from the fountain of all good, since i had met "him whom my soul loved." it was a long, blessed communion that i held thus with my own soul on that hallowed day. when i looked upon the pictured face above me, i wondered that i had not at once recognized the christ, the likeness was so perfect. but i concluded that for some wise purpose my "eyes were holden" until it was his pleasure that i should see him as he is. when at last i arose, the soft golden twilight was about me, and i knelt by my couch, to offer my first prayer in heaven. up to this time my life there had been a constant thanksgiving--there had seemed no room for petition. now as i knelt all i could utter over and over, was: "i thank thee, blessed father; i thank thee, i thank thee!" when i at last descended the stairs, i found my brother standing in the great "flower-room," and, going to him, i said softly: "frank, what do you do in heaven when you want to pray?" "we praise!" he answered. "then let us praise now," i said. and standing there, with clasped hands, we lifted up our hearts and voices in a hymn of praise to god; my brother with his clear, strong voice leading, i following. as the first notes sounded, i thought the roof echoed them; but i soon found that other voices blended with ours, until the whole house seemed filled with unseen singers. such a grand hymn of praise earth never heard. and as the hymn went on, i recognized many dear voices from the past--will griggs' pathetic tenor, mary allis' exquisite soprano, and many another voice that wakened memories of the long ago. then as i heard sweet child-voices, and looked up, i saw above us such a cloud of radiant baby faces as flooded my heart with joy. the room seemed filled with them. "oh, what a life--what a divine life!" i whispered, as, after standing until the last lingering notes had died away, my brother and i returned to the veranda and sat in the golden twilight. "you are only in the first pages of its record," he said. "its blessedness must be gradually unfolded to us, or we could not, even here, bear its dazzling glory." then followed an hour of hallowed intercourse, when he led my soul still deeper into the mysteries of the glorious life upon which i had now entered. he taught me; i listened. sometimes i questioned, but rarely. i was content to take of the heavenly manna as it was given me, with a heart full of gratitude and love. chapter ix. not as a child shall we again behold her; for when with rapture wild in our embraces we again enfold her, she will not be a child, but a fair maiden, in her father's mansion, clothed with celestial grace, and beautiful with all the soul's expansion shall we behold her face. --[henry w. longfellow the next day, my brother being away upon an important mission, i started out alone to see if i might not find the dear young friends of whom i had caught a fleeting glimpse the day before. i knew that all things were ordered aright in that happy world, and that sooner or later i should find them again; yet i could but hope it might be very soon. i recalled the happy light upon their fresh young faces as they had met the beloved master, and i longed to talk with them of their life from day to day. from thinking of them, i began again to think of my blessed interview with him, and became so absorbed in these thoughts that i was even oblivious to the beautiful world around me. suddenly i heard some one say: "surely that is mrs. sprague!" and looking up, i saw sweet mary bates a few steps away, regarding me intently. i cried joyfully: "my precious mamie!" she flew to me, and folding me in her arms, drew my head to her shoulder in the old caressing way, almost sobbing in her great joy. "dear, dear little muzzer!"--a pet name often used by her in the happy past--"how glad, how glad i am to have you here! i could scarcely wait to find you." "how did you know i was here, mamie?" "the master told me," she said softly. "mae had already told me, and we were on the way to find you when we met him, and he told us he had just left you. then we knew we must wait a little," she said reverently. how my heart thrilled! he had thought about, had spoken of me, after we parted! i longed to ask her what he had said, but dared not. seeming to divine my thoughts, she continued: "he spoke so tenderly about you, and said we must be with you much. mae had work to do to-day, and as she had already seen you once, i came alone. she may be here later on. may i stay a long time with you? there is so much to tell you, so much to ask about!" "indeed you may. i had started out to find you, when we met. come, dear child, let us return home at once." so, clinging to each other, we set out toward my home. "what shall i tell you first?" i asked. "everything about the dear ones--every individual member of our beloved household. begin with my precious, heart-broken mother;" here her voice broke a little, but she soon continued, "i am with her often, but her great, and i fear unreconciled, sorrow, keeps me from being the comfort to her i long to be. if only she could spend one hour with me here, could know god's wisdom and love as we know it, how the cloud would lift from her life! how she would see that the two lives, after all, are but one." "yes, dear," i answered, "i always urged her to think of it in that light and to trust implicitly in the father's tender care and never-failing love; but it is difficult for us to see beyond the lonely hearthstone and the vacant chair. still, i believe she does begin to dimly grasp the comfort you are so eager to impart." "ah, if only she knew that i need just that to complete my happiness now! we cannot sorrow here as we did on earth, because we have learned to know that the will of the father is always tender and wise; but even heaven can never be complete for me while i know that my precious mother is forgetful of her many rare blessings, simply because i may not be with her, in the flesh, to share them. there is my father, and the boys--why, i am as truly hers still as they are! i often sit with them all, with her hand in mine, or my arms about her--my dear little mother! why must she see me, to recognize this? but this is almost complaining, is it not? some day she will know all--we must be patient." as we walked on slowly, conversing of the earth-life, still in many phases so dear to us, she asking eager questions, i answering as best i could, we saw a group of four persons, three women and a man, standing under the trees a little to one side of the walk. the man's back was towards us, but we at once recognized the master. the women were all strangers, and one of them seemed to have just arrived. her hand the savior held, as he talked with her, while all were intently listening to his words. we regarded the group in silence as we slowly passed, not hoping for recognition from him at such a time, but just as we were opposite to them, "he turned and looked upon" us. he did not speak--but oh, that look! so full of tenderness and encouragement and benediction! it lifted us, it bore us upward, it enthralled and exalted us; and as we passed onward, the clasp of our hands tightened, and rapture unspeakable flooded our hearts. we finished our walk in silence, and sat down on the marble steps in the shadow of the overhanging trees. the dear child nestled close against my side, and laid her head upon my shoulder, while i rested my cheek caressingly upon it. after a time i whispered, half to myself, "was there ever such a look!" instantly she raised her head and looking at me, said eagerly: "you think so, too? i was sure you would. it is always just so. if he is too much engaged to speak to you at the time, he just looks at you, and it is as though he had talked a long while with you. is he not wonderful! why, why could we not know him on earth as we know him here?" "how long were you here before you met him?" i asked. "oh, that is the wonderful part of it! his was the first face i looked upon after i left the body. i felt bewildered when i first realized that i was free, and i stood for a moment irresolute. then i saw him standing just beside me, with that same look upon his face. at first i felt timid and half afraid. then he stretched forth his hand to me, and said gently, 'my child, i have come to take care of you; trust me; do not be afraid.' then i knew him, and instantly all fear left me, and i clung to him as i would have done to either of my brothers. he did not say much to me, but somehow i felt that he understood all of my thoughts. after a moment, i asked: "'may i not remain awhile with mamma? she is heart-broken.' "'yes, dear child, as long as you desire,' he answered compassionately. "'will you also remain?' i asked, for i already felt i could not bear to have him leave me. "he looked much pleased, as though he divined my thought, as he answered: 'yes, i will never leave you, till you are ready to accompany me.' "then i went to mamma and put my arms about her, and presently the master, too, came and whispered words of comfort to her; but i am not sure she recognized our presence, though i fancied that she grew more calm beneath my caresses. we stayed till all was over. i never left mamma an instant, except that twice i stole to poor little hal's sick-room when he was for a short time alone. i have always felt that he recognized my presence more than any of them, he lay so still and calm when i talked to him. he seemed to be listening. when they gathered for the last time about my casket, it seemed to me i must speak, i must show myself to them! could they for one instant have seen my living self, standing so calmly in their midst, they would have turned forever from the lifeless clay they had embalmed and beautified for the tomb. they would have known i was not there. but they would not recognize the truth. at last i pleaded with the master to let me show myself once to them, there. but he said, 'it is not the father's will.' "after that i accepted fully the father's will, and soon thereafter he brought me here in his arms. and what a blessed life it is!" i can give only a brief outline of our conversation on that first happy day. it is too sacred to be scanned by curious eyes. we talked until the golden twilight fell, and we watched the little birds nestling in the vines, and heard afar the solemnly joyous notes of the angels' choral song, and joined our voices in the hymn of praise. later we went to my room, and lay down upon my dainty couch for rest, and the last words i heard before sinking into heaven's blissful sleep were, tenderly whispered: "dear, dear little muzzer, i am so glad and happy that you are here!" more than once the question has been asked, "was there night there?" emphatically, no! what, for want of a better designation, we may call "day," was full of a glorious radiance, a roseate golden light, which was everywhere. there is no language known to mortals that can describe this marvelous glory. it flooded the sky; it was caught up and reflected in the waters; it filled all heaven with joy and all hearts with song. after a period much longer than our longest earthly day, this glory mellowed and softened until it became a glowing twilight full of peace. the children ceased their playing beneath the trees, the little birds nestled among the vines, and all who had been busy in various ways throughout the day sought rest and quiet. but there was no darkness, no dusky shadows even---only a restful softening of the glory. chapter x. o sweet and blessed country, the home of god's elect! o sweet and blessed country that eager hearts expect! there stand those halls of zion all jubilant with song, and bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng. --[st. bernard of cluny. not long after this my brother said, "we will go to the grand auditorium this morning; it will be a rare day even here. martin luther is to talk on 'the reformation; its causes and effects,' and this will be supplemented by a talk from john wesley. there may also be other speakers." it was not the first time we had visited this great auditorium, although i have not hitherto described it. it stood upon a slight eminence, and the mighty dome was supported by massive columns of alternate amethyst and jasper. there were no walls to the vast edifice; only the great dome and supporting columns. a broad platform of precious marbles, inlaid in porphyry, arose from the center, from which the seats ascended on three sides, forming an immense amphitheater. the seats were of cedar wood highly polished; and back of the platform were heavy hangings of royal purple. an altar of solid pearl stood near the center of the platform. the great dome was deep and dark in its immensity, so that only the golden statues around its lower border were distinctly visible. all this i had noted at former visits. when we entered, we found the building filled with people eagerly waiting for what was to follow. we soon were seated and also waiting. soft strains of melody floated about us, from an invisible choir, and before long martin luther, in the prime of a vigorous manhood, ascended the steps and stood before us. it is not my purpose to dwell upon his appearance, so familiar to us all, except to say that his great intellect and spiritual strength seemed to have added to his already powerful physique, and made him a fit leader still, even in heavenly places. his discourse would of itself fill a volume, and could not be given even in outline, in this brief sketch. he held us enthralled by the power of his will and his eloquence. when he at length retired, john wesley took his place, and the saintly beauty of his face, intensified by the heavenly light upon it, was wonderful. his theme was "god's love;" and if in the earth-life he dwelt upon it with power, he now swept our souls with the fire of his exaltation, until we were as wax in his hands. he showed what that love had done for us, and how an eternity of thanksgiving and praise could never repay it. silence, save for the faint, sweet melody of the unseen choir, rested upon the vast audience for some time after he left. all seemed lost in contemplation of the theme so tenderly dwelt upon. then the heavy curtains back of the platform parted, and a tall form, about whom all the glory of heaven seemed to center, emerged from their folds and advanced toward the middle of the platform. instantly the vast concourse of souls arose to their feet, and burst forth as with one voice into that grand anthem in which we had so often joined on earth: "all hail the power of jesus' name, let angels prostrate fall; bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him lord of all." such a grand chorus of voices, such unity, such harmony, such volume, was never heard on earth. it rose, it swelled, it seemed to fill not only the great auditorium, but heaven itself. and still, above it all, we heard the voices of the angel choir, no longer breathing the soft, sweet melody, but bursting forth into pæans of triumphant praise. a flood of glory seemed to fill the place, and looking upward we beheld the great dome ablaze with golden light, and the angelic forms of the no longer invisible choir in its midst, with their heavenly harps and viols, and their faces only less radiant than that of him in whose praise they sang. and he, before whom all heaven bowed in adoration, stood with uplifted face and kingly mien, the very god of earth and heaven. he was the center of all light, and a divine radiance surrounded him that was beyond compare. as the hymn of praise and adoration ceased, all sank slowly to their knees, and every head was bowed and every face covered as the angel choir chanted again the familiar words: "glory be to the father, and to the son, and to the holy ghost. as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. amen, amen!" slowly the voices died away, and a holy silence fell upon us. presently, slowly and reverently, all arose and resumed their places. no, not all. sweet mary bates had accompanied us to the sanctuary, and i now noticed that she alone still knelt in our midst, with clasped hands and radiant uplifted face, her lovely eyes fixed upon the savior, as he still stood waiting before us, with such a look of self-forgetful adoration and love as made her herself truly divine. she was so rapt i dared not disturb her; but in a moment the master turned and met her adoring eyes with such a look of loving recognition, that with a deep sigh of satisfied desire, as he turned again, she quietly resumed her seat beside me, slipping her little hand into mine with all the confidence of a child who feels sure it is understood to the utmost. as i looked upon the glorious form before us, clothed in all the majesty of the godhead, my heart tremblingly asked: "can this indeed be the christ-man whom pilate condemned to die an ignominious death upon the cross?" i could not accept it. it seemed impossible that any man, however vile, could be blind to the divinity so plainly revealed in him. then the savior began to speak, and the sweetness of his voice was far beyond the melody of the heavenly choir. and his gracious words! would that i could, would that i dared, transcribe them as they fell from his lips. earth has no language by which i could convey their lofty meaning. he first touched lightly upon the earth-life, and showed so wonderfully the link of light uniting the two lives--the past with the present. then he unfolded to us some of the earlier mysteries of the blessed life, and pointed out the joyous duties just before us. when he ceased, we sat with bowed heads as he withdrew. our hearts were so enfolded, our souls so uplifted, our spirits so exalted, our whole being so permeated with his divinity, that when we arose we left the place silently and reverently, each bearing away a heart filled with higher, more divine aspirations, and clearer views of the blessed life upon which we were permitted to enter. i can touch but lightly upon these heavenly joys. there is a depth, a mystery to all that pertains to the divine life, which i dare not try to describe; i could not if i would, i would not if i could. a sacredness enfolds it all that curious eyes should not look upon. suffice it to say, that no joy we know on earth, however rare, however sacred, can be more than the faintest shadow of the joy we there find; no dreams of rapture, here unrealized, approach the bliss of one moment, even, in that divine world. no sorrow; no pain; no sickness; no death; no partings; no disappointments; no tears but those of joy; no broken hopes; no mislaid plans; no night, nor storm, nor shadows even; but light and joy and love and peace and rest forever and forever. "amen," and again my heart says reverently, "amen." chapter xi jerusalem! jerusalem! thy streets of pearl and gold are trod by the blest feet of them we knew and loved of old. their voices full of calm delight steal through the radiant air-- jerusalem! jerusalem! our hearts are with them there! as the days passed i found my desires often led me to the sacred lake, sometimes alone, sometimes with one or more of my own family circle--my revered father and precious mother, my dear brother and sister, and many beloved friends both within and without the bond of consanguinity. it was always to me an inspiration and an uplifting. i never could grow sufficiently familiar with it to overcome the first great awe with which it inspired me; but i found that the oftener i bathed or floated and slept in its pellucid current, the stronger i grew in spirit, and the more clearly i comprehended the mysteries of the world about me. my almost daily intercourse with the dear ones of our home life from whom i had so long been separated, served to restore to me the home feeling that had been the greatest solace of my mortal life; and i began to realize that this was indeed the true life, instead of that probationary life which we had always regarded as such. i think it was the day after my return from my first visit to earth, that, as i had started to cross the sward lying between my father's house and our own, i heard my name called in affectionate tones. i turned and saw approaching me a tall, fine-looking man, whose uncovered head was silvery white, and whose deep blue eyes looked happily and tenderly into mine, as he drew near. "oliver!" i cried with outstretched hands of welcome, "dear, dear oliver!" it was the husband of my eldest sister, always dearly loved. "i did not know that you had come, until a few moments since, when our father told me. it is delightful to have you here; it seems more like the old life to see you than any of the others who are here--we were together so much during the last years of my stay," he said, grasping my hands warmly. "where are you going now? can you not come with me awhile? i was thinking only a few days ago how much i wished you could be here a little while before lu came; you know her tastes so well. and now here you are! so often our unspoken wishes are thus gratified in heaven!" "is my sister coming soon?" i asked a little later. "that i cannot confidently say; but you know the years of the earth-life are passing, and her coming cannot be much longer delayed. can you come with me now?" "gladly," i said, turning to walk with him. "it is only a little way from here," he said. "just where the river bends. lu loves the water so, i chose that spot in preference to one even nearer your home." "this is truly enchanting!" i cried, as we drew near the place. "i have not been this way before." "i want you to see the river from her room windows," he said; "i know you will enjoy it." we entered the truly beautiful house, built of the purest white granite, so embedded in the foliage of the flower-laden trees that from some points only glimpses of its fine proportions could be seen. "she loves flowers so much--will she not enjoy these trees?" he asked with almost boyish delight. "beyond everything," i answered. we passed through several delightful rooms on the lower floor, and, ascending the stairway, which in itself was a dream of beauty, entered the room he was so anxious i should see. i stopped upon the threshold with an exclamation of delight, while he stood watching with keen enjoyment the expression on my face. "it is the most delightful room i ever saw!" i cried enthusiastically. the framework of couches, chairs and desk was of pure and spotless pearl, upholstered in dim gold; soft rugs and draperies everywhere; and through the low window, opening upon the flower-wreathed balcony, so enchanting a view of the broad, smooth river below, that again i caught my breath in delight. a thousand exquisite tints from the heavens above were reflected upon the tranquil waters, and a boat floating on the current was perfectly mirrored in the opaline-tinted ripples. far across the shining waters the celestial hills arose, with domes and pillared temples and sparkling fountains perceptible everywhere. when at last i turned from this entrancing view, i saw on the opposite wall, smiling down upon me, the same divine face that i daily looked upon in my own room at home. we descended the stairs without a word, then i could only falter: "only heaven could give such perfection in everything!" oliver pressed my hand sympathetically, and let me depart without a word. many months, by earthly time, had passed since that day, and many times i had visited that lovely home and held sweet converse with one i loved so well. i could suggest nothing that would add to the beauty of the place, but we talked of it together, and planned for and anticipated the joy of her coming. one day i found him absent, and though i waited long for his return, he came not. i had not seen him for several days, and concluded he had been sent upon some mission by the master. as i passed onward to our home, i met a group of happy young girls and boys, of different ages, hastening the way i had come, with their arms full of most beautiful flowers. as they drew near i saw they were the grandchildren of my dear sister--stanley and mary and david and lee and little ruth. as soon as they saw me, they all with one accord began to shout joyfully: "grandma is coming! grandma is coming! we are taking flowers to scatter everywhere! we are so glad!" "how do you know she is coming, children? i have just been to the house--no one is there!" "but she is coming," said little lee. "we had a message from grandpa, and he is to bring her." "then i will tell the others, and we will all come to welcome her," i said. with a great joy in my heart i hastened onward to my father's house. i found them awaiting me, full of joyful expectation. "yes, we also have had word," my father said, "and were only awaiting your return, that we might go together." "then i will go for brother frank, that he also may accompany us," i said. "he is here!" said a genial voice; and, looking up, i saw him at the door. "col. sprague is always present when he is needed," said my father cordially. so we set forth, a goodly company, to welcome this dearly loved one to her home--my father, my mother, and my sister jodie; my brother the doctor, and his two fair daughters; my aunt gray, her son martin, and his wife and daughter; my brother frank and i. as we approached the house we heard the sound of joyous voices, and looking in, we saw my sister standing in the room, her husband's arm about her, and the happy grandchildren thronged around them, like humming-birds among the flowers. but what was this? could this radiant creature, with smooth brow and happy eyes, be the pale, wan woman i had last seen, so bowed with suffering and sorrow? i looked with eager eyes. yes, it was my sister; but as she was full thirty years ago, with the bloom of health upon her face, and the light of youth in her tender eyes. i drew back into the shadow of the vines and let the others precede me, for my heart was full of a strange, triumphant joy. this truly was the "victory over death" so surely promised by our risen lord. i watched the happy greetings, and the way she took each beloved one into her tender arms. when, one by one, she had greeted and embraced them all, i saw her, with a strange yearning at my heart, turn and look wistfully around, then whisper to my father: "is not my little sister here?" i could wait no longer, but, hastening to her side, cried: "dearest, i am here! welcome! welcome!" she folded me to her heart and held me fast in her warm arms, she showered me with kisses upon my upturned face, while i returned each loving caress, and laughed and cried for very gladness that she had come at last. oh, what a family reunion was that inside the walls of heaven! and how its bliss was heightened by the sure knowledge (not the hope) that there should be no partings for us henceforth forever! my brother oliver looked on with proud and happy eyes. the hour for which he had longed and waited had come to him at last; his home-life would now be complete for evermore. i told him how i had waited for him that day, and he said, "we saw you as you left the house, but were too distant to call you. i had taken her into the river, and she had looked at and admired the house very greatly before she knew it was our home." "what did she do when she saw her lovely room?" "cried like a child, and clung to me, and said, 'this more than repays us for the lost home of earth!' if the children had not come, i think she would have been at that window still!" he said, laughing happily. "i am glad you had her all to yourself at the first," i whispered; "you deserved that happiness, dear, if any man ever did." he smiled gratefully, and looked over at his wife, where she stood the center of a happy group. "does she not look very young to you, oliver?" i asked. "the years rolled from her like a mask, as we sat beneath the water in the river. ah, truly in those life-giving waters we do all 'renew our youth'; but she became at once uncommonly fair and young." "her coming has brought youth likewise to you," i said, noting his fresh complexion and his sparkling eyes; "but i hope it will not change your silver hair, for that is to you a crown of glory." he looked at me a moment critically, then said: "i wonder if you realize the change that has likewise come to you in this wonderful clime?" "i?" i said, a little startled at the thought; "i confess i have not once thought of my personal appearance. i realize what, through the father's mercy, this life has done for me spiritually, but as for the other, i have never given it an instant's thought." "the change is fully as great in your case as in lu's, though with you the change has been more gradual," he said. i felt a strange thrill of joy that when my dear husband should come to me, he would find me with the freshness and comeliness of our earlier years. it was a sweet thought, and my heart was full of gratitude to the father for this further evidence of his loving care. so we talked together as the hours sped, until my father said: "come, children; we must not forget that this dear daughter of mine needs rest this first day in her new home. let us leave her and her happy husband to their new-found bliss." so with light hearts we went our way, and left them to spend their first hours in heaven together. chapter xii. holy, holy, holy! all the saints adore thee, casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea; cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. --[bishop heber. after we had left my parents and friends on our return from our welcome to my sister, my brother hastened away upon some mission, and i walked on alone toward the sacred lake. i felt the need of a rest in its soothing waters after the exciting scenes through which i had passed. i had hitherto visited the lake in the early morning hours; it was now something past noontide of the heavenly day, and but few persons lingered on the shore. the boats that sped across its calm surface seemed to be filled rather with those intent upon some duty than simply pleasure-seekers. i walked slowly down into the water, and soon found myself floating, as at former times, in mid-current. the wonderful prismatic rays that in the early morning were such a marvel, now blended into a golden glory, with different shades of rose and purple flashing athwart their splendor. to me it seemed even more beautiful than the rainbow tints; just as the maturer joys of our earthly life cast into shadow, somewhat, the more evanescent pleasures of youth. i could but wonder what its evening glories would be, and resolved to come at some glowing twilight, and see if they would not remind me of the calm hours of life's closing day. i heard the chimes from the silver bell of the great city ringing an anthem as i lay, and its notes seemed to chant clearly: "holy! holy! holy! lord god almighty!" the waters took up the song and a thousand waves about me responded, "holy! holy! holy!" the notes seemed to "vibrate," if i may use the expression, upon the waves, producing a wondrously harmonious effect. the front row in the battalion of advancing waves softly chanted "holy" as they passed onward; immediately the second roll of waves took up the word that the first seemed to have dropped as it echoed the second "holy" in the divine chorus, then it, too, passed onward to take up the second note as the third advancing column caught the first; and so it passed and echoed from wave to wave, until it seemed millions of tiny waves about me had taken up and were bearing their part in this grand crescendo--this wonderful anthem. language fails me--i cannot hope to convey to others this experience as it came to me. it was grand, wonderful, overpowering. i lay and listened until my whole being was filled with the divine melody, and i seemed to be a part of the great chorus, then i, too, lifted up my voice and joined with full heart in the thrilling song of praise. i found that, contrary to my usual custom, i floated rapidly away from the shore whence i had entered the water, and after a time was conscious that i was approaching a portion of the lake shore i had never yet visited. refreshed and invigorated, i ascended the sloping banks, to find myself in the midst of a lovely suburban village, similar to the one where our own home was situated. there was some difference in the architecture or construction of the houses, though they were no less beautiful than others i had seen. many were constructed of polished woods, and somewhat resembled the finest of the chalets one sees in switzerland, though far surpassing them in all that gives pleasure to the artistic eye. as i wandered on, feasting my eyes upon the lovely views about me, i was particularly pleased by the appearance of an unusually attractive house. its broad verandas almost overhung the waters of the lake, the wide low steps running on one side of the house quite to the water's edge. several graceful swans were leisurely drifting about with the current, and a bird similar to our southern mocking-bird, but with softer voice, was singing and swinging in the low branches overhead. there were many larger and more imposing villas near, but none possessed for me the charm of this sweet home. beneath one of the large flowering trees close by this cottage home, i saw a woman sitting, weaving with her delicate hands, apparently without shuttle or needle, a snow-white gossamer-like fabric that fell in a soft fleecy heap at her side as the work progressed. she was so very small in stature that at first glance i supposed she was a child; but a closer scrutiny showed her to be a mature woman, though with the glow of youth still upon her smooth cheek. something familiar in her gestures, rather than her appearance, caused me to feel that it was not the first time we had met; and growing accustomed now to the delightful surprises that met me everywhere in this world of rare delights, i drew near to accost her, when, before i could speak, she looked up, and the doubt was gone. "maggie!" "mrs. sprague dear!" we cried simultaneously, as, dropping her work from her hands, she stepped quickly up to greet me. our greeting was warm and fervent, and her sweet face glowed with a welcome that reminded me of the happy days when we had met, in the years long gone, by the shore of that other beautiful lake in the world of our earth-life. "now i know why i came this way to-day--to find you, dear," i said, as we sat side by side, talking as we never had talked on earth; for the sweet shyness of her mortal life had melted away in the balmy air of heaven. "what is this lovely fabric you are weaving?" i presently asked, lifting the silken fleecy web in my fingers as i spoke. "some draperies for nellie's room," she said. "you know we two have lived alone together so much, i thought it would seem more like home to her, to us both, if we did the same here. so this cottage is our own special home, just a step from marie's," pointing to an imposing house a few yards distant, "and i am fitting it up as daintily as i can, especially her room." "oh, let me help you, maggie dear!" i said. "it would be such a pleasure to me." she hesitated an instant, with something of the old-time shyness, then said: "that is so like you, dear mrs. sprague. i have set my heart on doing nellie's room entirely myself--there is no hurry about it, you know--but if you really would enjoy it, i shall love to have you help me in the other rooms." "and will you teach me how to weave these delicate hangings?" "yes, indeed. shall i give you your first lesson now?" lifting the dainty thread, she showed me how to toss and wind it through my fingers till it fell away in shining folds. it was very light and fascinating work, and i soon was weaving it almost as rapidly as she did. "now, i can help carroll!" was my happy thought, as i saw the shimmering fabric grow beneath my hands. "to-morrow i will go and show him how beautifully we can drape the doors and windows." so in heaven our first thought ever is to give pleasure to others. "you are an apt scholar," said maggie, laughing happily; "and what a charming hour you have given me!" "what a charming hour you have given me, my dear!" i answered. when we parted it was with the understanding that every little while i was to repeat the visit. when i urged her likewise to come to me, the old-time shyness again appeared, as she said: "oh, they are all strangers to me, and here we shall be entirely alone. you come to me." so i yielded, as in heaven we never seek to gain reluctant consent for any pleasure, however dear; and many were the happy hours spent with her in the cottage by the lake. chapter xiii. "i take these little lambs," said he and lay them in my breast; protection they shall find in me, in me be ever blest." --[samuel stennett. on one of my walks about this time, i chanced upon a scene that brought to mind what mae had said to me about the savior's love for little children. i found him sitting beneath one of the flowering trees upon the lake shore, with about a dozen children of all ages clustered around him. one dainty little tot, not more than a year old, was nestled in his arms, with her sunny head resting confidingly upon his bosom, her tiny hands filled with the lovely water-lilies that floated everywhere on the waters. she was too young to realize how great her privilege was, but seemed to be enjoying his care to the utmost. the others sat at his feet, or leaned upon his knees; and one dear little fellow, with earnest eyes, stood by him, leaning upon his shoulder, while the master's right arm encircled him. every eye was fixed eagerly upon jesus, and each child appeared alert to catch every word he said. he seemed to be telling them some very absorbing story, adapted to their childish tastes and capacities. i sat down upon the sward among a group of people, a little removed from the children, and tried to hear what he was saying, but we were too far away to catch more than a sentence now and then, and in heaven one never intrudes upon another's privileges or pleasures. so we simply enjoyed the smiles and eager questions and exclamations of the children, and gathered a little of the tenor of the story from the disjointed sentences which floated to us. "a little child lost in the dark woods of the lower world--" we heard the master say, in response to the inquiring looks of the interested children. "lions and bears--" came later on. "where was his papa?" asked an anxious voice. we could not hear the reply, but soon a little fellow leaning upon the savior's knee, said confidently: "no lions and bears up here!" "no," he replied, "nothing to harm or frighten my little children here!" then as the story deepened and grew in interest, and the children pressed more closely about the master, he turned with a sweet smile--and we could see an increased pressure of the encircling arm--to the little fellow with the earnest eyes who leaned upon his shoulder, and said: "what, leslie, would you have done, then?" with a bright light in his eyes and a flush on his fair cheek, the child answered quickly and emphatically: "i should have prayed to thee and asked thee to 'close the lion's mouth,' as thou didst for daniel, and thou wouldst have done it!" "ah," i thought, "could c---- and h---- see the look the beloved master cast upon their boy as he made his brave reply, they would be comforted even for the absence of their darling." lost in these thoughts, i heard no more that passed, until an ecstatic shout from the little folks proclaimed how satisfactorily the story had ended, and, looking up, i saw the savior passing onward, with the baby still in his arms, and the children trooping about him. "of such is the kingdom of heaven." how well he understood! how much he loved them! i, too, arose and started homeward. i had not gone far before i met my brother frank, who greeted me with: "i am on my way to the city by the lake; will you accompany me?" "it has been long my wish to visit the city. i only waited until you thought it wise for me to go," i answered. "you are growing so fast in the knowledge of the heavenly ways," he said, "that i think i might venture to take you almost anywhere with me now. you acquire the knowledge for the very love of it; not because you feel it your duty to know what we would have you learn. your eagerness to gather to yourself all truth, and at the same time your patient submission in waiting, ofttimes when i know the trial is great, have won for you much praise and love from our dear master, who watches eagerly the progress of us all in the divine life. i think it only right that you should know of this; we need encouragement here as well as in the earth-life, though in a different way. i tell you this by divine permission. i think it will not be long before he trusts you with a mission; but this i say of myself, not by his command." it would be impossible for me to convey, in the language of earth, the impression these words of commendation left upon me. they were so unexpected, so unforeseen. i had gone on, as my brother said, eagerly gathering the knowledge imparted to me, with a genuine love for the study of all things pertaining to the blessed life, without a thought that i in any way deserved commendation for so doing; and now i had won the approbation of the master himself! the happiness seemed almost more than i had strength to bear. "my brother, my dear brother!" was all i could say, in my deep joy, stopping suddenly and looking up into his face with grateful tears. "i am so glad for you, little sister!" he said, warmly clasping my hand. "there are, you see, rewards in heaven; it does my soul good that you have unconsciously won one of these so soon." i would i might record in detail the precious words of wisdom that fell from his lips; i would that i might recount minutely the events of that wonderful life as it was unfolded to me day by day; but i can only say, "i may not." when i undertook to make a record of that never-to-be-forgotten time, i did not realize how many serious difficulties i would have to encounter; how often i would have to pause and consider if i might really reveal this truth or paint that scene as it appeared to me. the very heart has often been left out of some wonderful scene i was attempting to describe, because i found i dared not reveal its sacred secret. i realize painfully that the narrative, as i am forced to give it, falls infinitely short of what i hoped to make it when i began. but bear with me; it is no fancy sketch i am drawing, but the veritable life beyond, as it appeared to me when the exalted spirit rose triumphant over the impoverished flesh, made slavishly subservient through suffering. my brother and i walked slowly back to the margin of the lake, where we stepped into a boat lying near the shore, and were at once transported to the farther shore of the lake, and landed upon a marble terrace--the entrance to the city by the lake. i never knew by what power these boats were propelled. there were no oarsmen, no engine, no sails, upon the one in which we crossed the water; but it moved steadily onward till we were safely landed at our destination. luxuriously cushioned seats were all around it, and upon one of them lay a musical instrument, something like a violin, although it had no bow, but seemed to be played by the fingers alone. upon another seat lay a book. i picked it up and opened it; it seemed to be a continuation of that book that has stirred and thrilled millions of hearts in the mortal life--"the greatest thing in the world." as i glanced through it while we journeyed, i grasped the truth that this great mind already had grappled with the mighty things of eternity and given food to immortals, even as he had to those in mortal life in the years gone by. i was roused from my thoughts by the boat touching the marble terrace, and found my brother already standing waiting to assist me to the shore. passing up a slight acclivity, we found ourselves in a broad street that led into the heart of the city. the streets i found were all very broad and smooth, and paved with marble and precious stones of every kind. though they were thronged with people intent on various duties, not an atom of debris, or even dust, was visible anywhere. there seemed to be vast business houses of many kinds, though i saw nothing resembling our large mercantile establishments. there were many colleges and schools; many book and music-stores and publishing houses; several large manufactories, where, i learned, were spun the fine silken threads of manifold colors which were so extensively used in the weaving of the draperies i have already mentioned. there were art rooms, picture galleries and libraries, and many lecture halls and vast auditoriums. but i saw no churches of any kind. at first this somewhat confused me, until i remembered that there are no creeds in heaven, but that all worship together in harmony and love--the children of one and the same loving father. "ah," i thought, "what a pity that that fact, if no other in the great economy of heaven, could not be proclaimed to the inhabitants of earth! how it would do away with the petty contentions, jealousies and rivalries of the church militant! no creeds in heaven! no controverted points of doctrine! no charges of heresy brought by one professed christian against another! no building up of one denomination upon the ruins or downfall of a different sect! but one great universal brotherhood whose head is christ, and whose corner-stone is love." i thought of the day we had listened in the great auditorium at home to the divine address of our beloved master; of the bowed heads and uplifted voices of that vast multitude as every voice joined in the glorious anthem, "crown him lord of all!" and i could have wept to think of the faces that must some day be bowed in shame when they remember how often they have in mortal life said to a brother christian, "stand aside; i am holier than thou!" we found no dwelling-houses anywhere in the midst of the city, until we came to the suburbs. here they stood in great magnificence and splendor. but one pleasing fact was that every home had its large door-yard, full of trees and flowers and pleasant walks; indeed, it was everywhere, outside of the business center of the town, like one vast park dotted with lovely houses. there was much that charmed, much that surprised me in this great city, of which i may not fully speak, but which i never can forget. we found in one place a very large park, with walks and drives and fountains and miniature lakes and shaded seats, but no dwellings or buildings of any kind, except an immense circular open temple capable of seating many hundred; and where, my brother told me, a seraph choir assembled at a certain hour daily and rendered the oratorios written by the great musical composers of earth and heaven. it had just departed, and the crowd who had enjoyed its divine music yet lingered as though loath to leave a spot so hallowed. "we will remember the hour," my brother said, "and come again when we can hear them." chapter xiv. not all the archangels can tell the joys of that holiest place, where the father is pleased to reveal the light of his heavenly face. --[charles wesley. "and the temple was filled with smoke from the glory of god, and from his power."--rev. : . still passing through the park, we came out upon the open country, and walked some distance through flowery meadows and undulating plains. at length we entered a vast forest whose great trees towered above us like swaying giants. the day was well-nigh spent--the day so full of joy and glad surprises and happy hours! full as it had been i felt there was still something left for me, deep hidden in the twilight-valley of the day; something that held my soul in awe, as the last moments preceding the holy sacrament. my brother walked by me, absorbed in silent thought, but with a touch beyond even his usual gentleness. i did not ask where we were going at that unusual hour, so far from home, for fear and doubt and questionings no longer vexed the quiet of my soul. although the forest was dense, the golden glow of the twilight rested beneath the trees, and sifted down through the quivering branches overhead, as though falling through the windows of some grand cathedral. at length we emerged from the forest upon a vast plain that stretched out into illimitable space before us, and far away we faintly heard the thunder of the breaking waves of that immortal sea of which i had heard so much but had not yet seen. but for their faint and distant reverberation the silence about us was intense. we stood a moment upon the verge of the forest, then as we advanced a few steps into the plain i became aware that immediately to our right the ground rose into quite an elevation; and, as i turned, a sight broke upon my bewildered eyes that the eternal years of earth and heaven can never efface. upon the summit of this gentle slope a temple stood, whose vast dome, massive pillars and solid walls were of unsullied pearl, and through whose great mullioned windows shone a white radiance that swallowed up the golden glow of the twilight and made it its own. i did not cry aloud nor hide my face, as at former revelations; but i sank slowly to my knees, and, crossing my hands upon my breast, with uplifted face, stilled heart and silent lips, laid my whole being in worship at his feet "who sitteth upon the throne." how long i knelt thus i know not. even immortal life seemed lost before that greatest of celestial mysteries. at length my brother, who had been silently kneeling beside me, arose, and, lifting me to my feet, whispered gently, "come." i felt rather than saw that his face was colorless with the depth of his emotion, and i yielded to his guidance in silence. a long flight of low, broad steps, in gradations, rose from almost where we stood to the very door of the temple. they, too, were of solid pearl, bordered on either side by channels paved with golden stones through which coursed crystal waters that met and mingled in one stream far out upon the plain. ascending these steps, we entered the temple, and for a moment stood in silence. i do not know how it was, but in that brief instant--it may have been longer than i knew--every detail of that wonderful interior was fastened upon my memory as a scene is photographed upon the artist's plate. heretofore it had taken repeated visits to a room to enable me to describe it correctly in detail, but this, in a lightning's flash, was stamped upon the tablet of my memory indelibly for all time--nay, for eternity. the immense dome, at that moment filled with a luminous cloud, was upheld by three rows of massive pillars of gold. the walls and floors were of pearl, as also the great platform that filled at least one-third of the temple upon the eastern side. there were no seats of any kind. the great golden pillars stood like rows of sentinels upon the shining floor. a railing of gold ran entirely around the platform upon the three sides, so that it was inaccessible from the body of the temple. beneath this railing, upon the temple-floor, a kneeling-step passed around the platform, also of pearl. in the center of the platform an immense altar of gold arose, supported by seraphs of gold with outspread wings, one at each corner; and underneath it, in a great pearl basin, a fountain of sparkling water played, and i knew intuitively it was the source of the magical river that flowed through the gardens of heaven and bore from us the last stains of death and sin. nothing living, beside ourselves, was within the temple except two persons who knelt with bowed heads beside the altar-rail upon the farther side; but by the altar stood four angels, one upon either side, dressed in flowing garments of white, with long, slim trumpets of gold uplifted in their hands, as though waiting in expectancy the signal for their trumpet call. long draperies of silvery gossamer hung in heavy folds back of the altar platform. suddenly, in the moment that we looked, we saw the draperies tremble and glow until a radiance far beyond the splendor of the sun at mid-day shone through them, and the whole temple was "filled with the glory of the lord." we saw, in the midst of the luminous cloud that filled the dome, the forms of angelic harpers, and as we dropped with bowed heads beside the altar-rail and hid our faces from the "brightness of his coming," we heard the trumpet-call of the four angels about the altar, and the voices of the celestial harpers as they sang: "holy, holy, holy, lord god almighty! all thy works shall praise thy name, in earth, and sky, and sea. holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty, god in three persons--blessed trinity. amen!" the voices softly died away; the last notes of the golden trumpets had sounded; "and there was silence in heaven." we knew that the visible glory of the lord was, for the present, withdrawn from the temple which is his throne; still we knelt with bowed heads in silent worship before him. when at last we arose i did not lift my eyes while within the temple; i desired it to remain upon my memory as it appeared when filled with his glory. we walked some time in silence, i leaning upon my brother's arm, for i yet trembled with emotion. i was surprised that we did not return into the forest, but went still farther out upon the plain. but when i saw that we approached the confluence of the two streams which issued from the fountain beneath the altar, i began to understand that we would return by way of the river, instead of by forest and lake. we reached the stream, at length, and, stepping into a boat that lay by the shore, we were soon floating with the current toward home. we passed through much beautiful scenery on our course that i had not seen before, and which i resolved i would visit in the future, when leisure from my daily duties would permit. lovely villas, surrounded by beautiful grounds stretching directly up from the water's edge, lay on both sides of the river, and formed a panorama upon which the eye never tired of resting. toward the end of the journey we passed my sister's lovely home, and we could plainly see her and her husband drinking in the scene with enraptured eyes, from the window of her own room. my brother and i were both silent the greater part of the time during our journey homeward, though each noted with observant eyes the signs of happy domestic life by which we were surrounded on every side. the verandas and steps of the homes we passed were full of their happy inmates; glad voices could be constantly heard, and merry shouts of laughter came from the throngs of little children playing everywhere upon the flowery lawns. once i broke our silence by saying to my brother: "i have been more than once delightfully surprised to hear the familiar songs of earth reproduced in heaven, but never more so than i was to-day. that hymn has long been a favorite of mine." "these happy surprises do not come by chance," he answered. "one of the delights of this rare life is that no occasion is ever overlooked for reproducing here the pure enjoyments of our mortal life. it is the father's pleasure to make us realize that this existence is but a continuance of the former life, only without its imperfections and its cares." "frank, i believe you are the only one of our friends here who has never questioned me about the dear ones left behind; why is it?" he smiled a peculiarly happy smile as he answered: "perhaps it is because i already know more than you could tell me." "i wondered if it was not so," i said, for i remembered well how my dear father had said, in speaking of my brother upon the first day of my coming, "he stands very near to the master," and i knew how often he was sent upon missions to the world below. i lay down upon my couch, on our return, with a heart overflowing with joy and gratitude and love, beyond the power of expression; and it seemed to me the tenderness in the divine eyes that looked down upon me from the wall was deeper, purer, holier than it had ever been before. "i will reach the standard of perfection you have set for me, my savior," i faltered, with clasped hands uplifted to him, "if it takes all my life in heaven and all the help from all the angels of light to accomplish it;" and with these words upon my lips, and his tender eyes resting upon me, i sank into the blissful repose of heaven. chapter xv. i shall know the loved who have gone before, and joyfully sweet will the meeting be, when over the river, the peaceful river, the angel of death shall carry me. --[nancy a. w. priest. so much occurred, and so rapidly, from the very hour of my entrance within the beautiful gates, that it is impossible for me to transcribe it all. i have been able only to cull here and there incidents that happened day by day; and in so doing many things i would gladly have related have unconsciously been omitted. of the many dear friends i met, only a very few have been mentioned, for the reason that, of necessity, such meetings are so similar in many respects that the constant repetition, in detail, would become wearisome. i have aimed principally to give such incidents as would show the beautiful domestic life in that happy world; to make apparent the reverence and love all hearts feel toward the blessed trinity for every good and perfect gift, and to show forth the marvelous power of the christ-love even in the life beyond the grave. this world, strange and new to me, held multitudes of those i had loved in the years gone by, and there was scarcely an hour that did not renew for me the ties that once were severed in the mortal life. i remember that as i was walking one day in the neighborhood of mrs. wickham's home, shortly after my first memorable visit there, i was attracted by an unpretentious but very beautiful house, almost hidden by luxuriant climbing rose vines, whose flowers of creamy whiteness were beyond compare with any roses i had yet seen in earth or heaven. meeting mrs. wickham, i pointed to the house and asked: "who lives there?" "suppose you go over and see," she said. "is it any one i know?" i asked. "i fancy so. see, someone is even now at the door as though expecting you." i crossed over the snowy walk and flowery turf--for the house stood in an angle formed by two paths crossing, almost opposite mrs. wickham's--and before i could ascend the steps i found myself in the embrace of two loving arms. "bertha sprague! i was sure it was you when i saw you go to mrs. wickham's a day or two ago. did not she tell you i was here?" "she had no opportunity until to-day," i said. "but dear aunt ann, i should have found you soon; i am sure you know that." "yes, i am sure you would." then i recounted to her something of my visit to mrs. wickham's that eventful day. she listened with her dear face full of sympathy, then said: "there, dear, you need not tell me. do i not know? when the master comes to gladden my eyes, i have no thought or care for anything beyond, for days and days! oh, the joy, the peace of knowing i am safe in this blessed haven! how far beyond all our earthly dreams is this divine life!" she sat for a moment lost in thought, then said wistfully: "now, tell me of my children--are they coming?" i gladdened her heart with all the cheering news i could bring of her loved ones; and so we talked the hours away, recalling many sweet memories of the earth-life, of friends and home and family ties, and looking forward to the future coming to us of those whom even the joys of heaven could not banish from our hearts. then also another evening, as the soft twilight fell, and many of our dear home circle were gathered with us in the great "flower-room," we heard a step upon the veranda, and as my brother went to the open door a gentle voice said: "is mrs. sprague really here?" "she is really here. come and see for yourself." and sweet mary green entered the room. "i am so glad to welcome you home!" she said, coming to me with extended hands, and looking into mine with her tender, earnest eyes. "my precious girl!" i cried, taking her to my heart in a warm embrace. "i have been asking about you, and longing to see you." "i could scarcely wait to reach here when i heard that you had come. now, tell me everything--everything!" she said as i drew her to a seat close beside me. but questions asked and the answers given are too sacred for rehearsal here. every individual member of her dear home-circle was discussed, and many were the incidents she recounted to me that had occurred in her presence when her mother and i were together and talking of the dear child we considered far removed from our presence. "i was often so close that i could have touched you with my hand, had the needed power been given," she said. after a long, close converse had been held between us, i took her to the library, whither the rest had gone to examine a new book just that day received. i introduced her to them all as the daughter of dear friends still on earth, confident of the welcome she would receive. my youngest sister and she at once became interested in each other, finding congeniality in many of their daily pursuits, and i was glad to believe they would henceforth see much of each other in many different ways. there was no measurement of time as we measure it here, although many still spoke in the old-time language of "months" and "days" and "years." i have no way of describing it as it seemed to me then. there were periods, and allotted times; there were hours for happy duties, hours for joyful pleasures, and hours for holy praise. i only know it was all harmony, all joy, all peace, at all times and in all conditions. chapter xvi. there is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to a son, that transcends all other affections of the heart. it is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. she will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity; and if adversity overtake him, he will be the dearer to her by misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him; and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him.--[washington irving. the current of my life flowed on in the heavenly ways, until the months began to lengthen into years and my daily studies ascended higher in the scale of celestial mysteries. i never wearied of study, though much was taught and gained through the medium of observation in the journeys that i was permitted to take with my brother into different parts of the heavenly kingdom. i never lacked time for social pleasures and enjoyments, for there is no clashing of duties with inclination, no unfulfilled desires, no vain strivings for the unattainable in that life, as in the life of earth. many precious hours of intercourse were spent in my dear father's home, and sometimes on rare occasions i was permitted to accompany him to his field of labor and assist him in instructing those lately come into the new life with little or no preparation for its duties and responsibilities. on one occasion he said to me: "i have the most difficult problem to deal with i have ever yet met in this work. it is how to enlighten and help a man who suddenly plunged from an apparently honorable life into the very depths of crime. i have never been able to get him to accompany me to the river, where these earthly cobwebs would be swept from his poor brain; his excuse being always that god's mercy is so great in allowing him inside heaven's gates at all, that he is content to remain always in its lowest scale of enjoyment and life. no argument or teaching thus far can make him alter his decision. he was led astray by infatuation for a strange woman, and killed his aged mother in order to secure her jewels for this wretched creature. he was executed for the crime, of which in the end he sincerely repented, but he left life with all the horror of the deed clinging to his soul." "has he seen his mother since coming here? does she know of his arrival?" "no; she is entirely alone in this world, and it was not thought wise to tell her of his coming till his soul was in a better condition to receive her. he was an only child, and does not lack the elements of refinement, but he was completely under the control of this vile though fascinating woman. it is said she drugged his wine and incited him to do the dreadful deed while under its influence, because of her hatred for his mother, whose influence was against her. when he came from under the influence of the wine, he was horrified at what he had done, and his infatuation for the woman turned to loathing--but, alas, too late! he would not see her during his entire incarceration." "how long was he in prison?" "almost a year." "has he seen the christ?" "no; he begs not to see him. he is very repentant, and grateful to be saved from the wrath he feels was his just punishment, but though he is conscious that his sin is forgiven, he does not yet feel that he can ever stand in the presence of the holy one. and here, as upon earth, each must be willing to receive him. his presence is never given undesired. i have not yet appealed for higher help; my ambition is to lead these weak souls upward through the strength entrusted to me. can you suggest anything that would probably reach him?" "his mother. may i bring her?" he thought a moment reflectively, then said: "a woman's intuition. yes, bring her." ====================================================================== [illustration: "o sweet and blessed country,] "o sweet and blessed country, the home of god's elect! o sweet and blessed country that eager hearts expect! there stand those halls of zion all jubilant with song, and bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng."] ====================================================================== i soon was on my way. i found the poor woman, laid the facts gently before her, and waited her decision. there was no hesitancy upon her part; in an instant she said, "my poor boy! certainly i will go with you at once." we found my father waiting for us, and went immediately to the great "home" where these "students"--would we call them?--stayed. it was a beautiful great building in the midst of a park, with shaded walks and fountains and flowers everywhere. to one just freed from earth it seemed a paradise indeed; but to those of us who had tasted heaven's rarer joys, something was wanting. we missed the lovely individual homes, the little children playing on the lawns, the music of the angel choir; it was tame indeed beside the pleasures we had tasted. we found the young man seated beneath one of the flower-laden trees, intently perusing a book that my father had left with him. there was a peaceful look on his pale face, but it was rather the look of patient resignation than of ardent joy. his mother approached him alone; my father and i remaining in the background. after a little time he glanced up and saw his mother standing near him. a startled look came into his face, and he rose to his feet. she extended her arms toward him, and cried out pathetically, "john, my dear boy, come home to me--i need you!" that was all. with a low cry he knelt at her feet and clasped her knees, sobbing: "mother! mother!" she stooped and put her tender arms about him; she drew his head gently to her breast and showered kisses on his bowed head. oh, the warm mother-love, the same in earth and heaven! only the christ-love can exceed it. here was this outraged mother, sent into eternity by the hands of him who should have shielded and sustained her, bending above her repentant son with the mother-love with which her heart was overflowing shining upon him from her gentle eyes. i saw my father turn his head to conceal his emotion, and i knew that my own eyes were wet. my father had explained to the mother that the first thing to be accomplished was to get her son to the river, so we now heard her say caressingly: "come, john, my boy, take the first step upward, for your mother's sake, that in time i may have the joy of seeing you in our own home. come, john, with mother." she gently drew him, and to our great joy we saw him rise and go with her, and their steps led them to the river. they walked hand in hand, and as far as we could see them she seemed to be soothing and comforting him. "thank god!" said my father fervently. "there will be no further trouble now. when they return he will see with clearer vision." and so it proved. after this, by divine permission, i became much of the time a co-laborer with my father, and thus enjoyed his society and his instructions much oftener than otherwise i could have done. chapter xvii. "some day," we say, and turn our eyes toward the fair hills of paradise; some day, some time, a sweet new rest shall blossom, flower-like, in each breast. some day, some time, our eyes shall see the faces kept in memory; some day their hand shall clasp our hand, just over in the morning-land-- o morning-land! o morning-land! --[edward h. phelps. one evening, some three years--counted by the calendar of earth--after i had entered upon the joys and duties of the heavenly life, i sat resting upon the upper veranda of our home, after a somewhat arduous journey to a distant city of the heavenly realm. from this part of the veranda we caught rare glimpses of the river through the overhanging branches of the trees; and just below us, at a little distance, we could see the happy children at their play upon the lawn. here my brother sought me out, and throwing himself upon a soft veranda lounge near, lay for a time motionless and silent. he looked as wearied as one can ever look in that life, but i felt no anxiety about him, for i knew the rest was sure. he had been absent on some earth-mission much of the time for many days, and i knew from experience that some of the fatigue and care of earth will cling to us on such occasions, till we are restored by heaven's balmy air and life-giving waters. he had not told me, as he sometimes did, where his mission had led him, and i had not asked him, feeling sure that all it was best i should know would be imparted. my own duties had of late been unusually responsible, leading me daily to a distant part of the heavenly kingdom, hence i myself had not visited the beloved of earth for a much longer period than usually elapsed between my visits. when last seen, all of the dear ones had seemed in such vigorous health and were so surrounded by earthly blessings that i had ceased to feel they needed my ministrations as in the early days of their sorrow, hence i had thrown all of my energies into the work assigned me by the master. at length, after a time of rest, my brother arose to a sitting posture, and regarding me for a moment in silence, said gently: "i have news for you, little sister." a thrill like an electric shock passed through me, and in an instant i cried out joyously: "he is coming!" he nodded his head, with a sympathetic smile, but did not at once reply. "when will it be? am i to go to him?" i asked. he hesitated an instant before saying: "of course you are permitted to go, if your heart will not be denied." "oh, i must go to him! i must be the first to greet him! perhaps it may be granted him to see me even while he is yet in the flesh." he shook his head sadly at this, and said, "no, dear; he will not know you." "why? frank, tell me all--and why you think, as i plainly see you do, that it is not best i should go." "he was stricken suddenly in the midst of his work, while apparently in perfect health, and has not regained consciousness since; nor will he ever on earth. hence your presence could be no solace to him." "when was this?" "three days ago; i have been with him almost constantly by day and night ever since." "oh, why did you not sooner tell me?" "it was thought wise to spare you the unnecessary pain of seeing him suffer when you could not minister to him, and i have come to tell you now that you may go if you still so desire." "he will know me as soon as the struggle is past?" "yes, but he will be bewildered and weak; he will need stronger help and guidance than you alone can give, and you will miss the rapture of the meeting as it would be a little later on." "what would you have me do? you know i will yield to your wiser judgment even against the pleadings of my heart. but i can wait!" "i will not say, 'do not go.' you shall accompany me if you wish. i only think that after the first bewilderment of the change has passed, after he has bathed in the waters of the river of life, he will be better prepared for the delightful reunion which awaits him. you remember what the waters did for you, and how bewildered and oppressed in spirit you were till you went with me that morning, into the river. it is the same with all of us, only where there has been serious trouble with the brain at last, it is even more needed than on ordinary occasions. and that is the case with my brother; he will not be fully himself until the magical waters have swept the clouds from his brain." "you are always right, my brother, and i will yield to your wise advice, although my heart cries out to hasten at once to his side. when will you return to him?" "immediately. there will be little time to wait. with the quickening of the morning light we will be here. my brave-hearted, wise little sister, the delay will be to you neither sorrowful nor long." he arose, and, bending over me, dropped a kiss lightly on my brow, and in a moment he had passed from my sight. "how strange," i thought, "that even in this matter, so near to my heart, i am able to yield unmurmuringly! father, i thank thee! i thank thee for the glad reunion so near at hand; but, even more than that, for the sweet submission in all things that has grown into my life; that i can yield to thy will even when thou wouldst permit it to be otherwise." i bowed my head upon my hand and gave myself up to mingled sad and happy thoughts. was he, this dearly loved one, indeed insensible to his suffering? would the father mercifully spare him even the pang of the parting? oh, that the morning were here! how could i wait even that brief while for the sight of the beloved face! suddenly a soft touch rested upon my bowed head, and a voice i had learned to recognize and love beyond all things in earth or heaven said: "have i not said truly, 'though he were dead, yet shall he live again'? what are now the years of separation, since the meeting again is at hand? come, and let us reason a little together," the master said, smiling down into my uplifted face. he took my extended hand into his own, and sitting down beside me, continued: "let us consider what these years have done for you. do you not feel that you are infinitely better prepared to confer happiness than when you parted from him you love?" i nodded in glad affirmation. "do you not realize that you stand upon a higher plane, with more exalted ideas of life and its duties; and that, in the strength of the father, you two henceforward will walk upward together?" again i gladly acquiesced. "is the home-life here less attractive than it was in the earth-life?" "no, no! a thousand times no!" i cried. "then there is nothing but joy in the reunion at hand?" "nothing but joy," i echoed. then the savior led me on to talk of the one so soon to come, and i opened my glad heart to him and told him of the noble life, the unselfish toil, the high aspirations, the unfaltering trust of him i loved. i spoke of his fortitude in misfortune, his courage in the face of sore trial and disappointment, his forgiveness of even malicious injury; and concluded by saying, "he lived the christianity many others professed. he always distanced me in that." the face of the master glowed in sympathy as i talked, and when i ceased he said: "i perceive that you have discovered the secret which makes marriage eternal as the years of heaven." "oh," i said, "to me marriage must be eternal! how could it be otherwise when two grow together and become as one? death cannot separate them without destroying; they are no longer two perfect beings, but one in soul and spirit forever." "aye," he answered; "but having the marriage rite pronounced does not produce this change. it is the divinity of soul wedded to soul alone that can do it." so he led me on until my soul flew upward as a lark in the early morning. he unfolded to me mysteries of the soul-life that filled my heart with rapture, but which i may not here reveal. at length, to my infinite surprise, i saw the rosy glow deepening across the sky, and knew that morning--love's morning--had dawned for me in heaven. the master arose, and pointing to the radiance, said: "by the time thou art ready to receive them they will be here;" and with a smile, and a touch that made a benediction, he departed. as i arose and stood with face uplifted to the coming day, i caught in the near distance the triumphant notes of the angels' choral song; and this morning, as though in sympathy with my thought, they sang: "he is risen! hear it, ye heavens, and ye sons of earth! he is risen, and has become the firstfruits of them that slept!" i lifted up my voice with joy, and joined their thrilling song; and as they swept onward and the cadence died away, i slowly descended the stairway, crossed the lawn whose flowers never crushed or withered beneath our feet, and sank for a moment beneath the pure waters of the river. i felt no haste, no unwonted excitement or unrest, though i knew that he was coming for whom my soul had waited all these years. the master's presence had filled me with calm and peace that nothing had power to disturb; had prepared and fitted me for the great happiness lying just before me. uplifted with a new, strange delight, i recrossed the lawn, stopping upon the veranda before entering the house, to gather a knot of cream-white roses and fasten them to my breast. then going to the library, i refilled the golden bowl with the spicy-breathed scarlet carnations, laying one aside to fasten upon my husband's shoulder. i wanted to myself gather the flowers that would greet him on his coming. i twisted up my hair in the manner that he had most admired, and fastened a creamy bud within the folds, that i might seem to him as i had of old. soon thereafter i heard voices and steps. listen! yes, it is the same dear step for which i had so often listened in the old home-life, the step that had always brought gladness to my heart, and sunshine in our home! his step in heaven! i flew to the open doorway, and in an instant was held close in the strong arms and to the loving, throbbing heart of my dear husband. was there anything more for me that heaven could give! my brother, with thoughtful care, passed onward to the upper rooms of the house, and for awhile we were alone together, we whose lives had run, so happily mingled, through the long years of our mortal life. i drew him within the house, and in the vestibule again he took me in his arms and drew me to his heart. "this is heaven indeed!" he said. we passed into the "flower-room," and on its threshold he stood a moment, entranced with its beauty; but when i would have related to him its history, as my brother had given it to me, he said: "not to-day, my dear; i have only eyes and ears for you to-day; all else in heaven must wait." so we sat and talked together as in the olden days, and the happy hours came and went, and the day melted into the twilight glow, before we realized it was half spent. our brother frank had come to us about the noontide, and together we had gone over the lovely house, had stood upon the broad verandas and eaten of the heavenly fruit. then we all sat together where i had spent the hours waiting in the presence of the blessed master. i told them much that he then had said to me, and how he turned into triumphant rejoicing the hours which i had anticipated would pass in lonely waiting. the eyes of my dear husband were tear-filled, and he pressed my hand, which he still kept in his, in tender sympathy. "oh, darling, it is a blessed, blessed life!" i said. "i already realize the blessedness," he replied, "for has it not given me back my brother and my wife--my precious wife!" early the following morning i said to my husband and our brother: "we must go to father and mother sprague's to-day. they have the first claim, after ours, frank." "yes, we will go at once," they both replied. so together we all started. in the earliest days of my heavenly life i had sought out with much joy the home of my husband's parents, and was by them accorded, as in the earth-life, a warm place in their hearts, and many happy hours had we spent together since. now we were taking to them a favorite son, and i realized how his coming would bring gladness to their hearts and home. it was a joyful meeting, especially to our mother, and the day was far spent before we arose to return. "william," said our mother, fondly laying her hand upon his arm, "yours was a happy home on earth--i used to think a perfect home; it will be far happier here," with a loving glance at me. "i am sure of that, mother. i have my dear wife and frank constantly with me; and you and my father and josephine"--a favorite niece--"to come to here; and after awhile," with a little hesitation, "the holier joys and privileges of heaven." we turned to go, and upon the threshold met an aunt who in the earth-life--blind and helpless--had been a favorite with us all. "my dear children," she exclaimed, "how good it seems to see you all again!" "aunt cynthia!" my husband said fondly. "yes, aunt cynthia, but no longer groping helpless in the darkness. 'whereas i once was blind, now i see,'" she quoted, smiling happily. and so it was--the master's touch had rested on the sightless eyes, and, closing to the darkness of earth, they had opened upon the glories of heaven. marvelous transition! no wonder we left her singing: glory to him who this marvel hath wrought, filling my spirit with joy and delight! lo, in my blindness i safely have walked out of the darkness into the light! chapter xviii. down by the sea, the crystal sea, where all of the redeemed shall be, where you and i, beloved, shall go, our crimson robes washed white as snow in christ's dear blood--what hymns of praise thro' countless ages we shall raise! there all our loved ones we shall see-- think what a meeting that will be down by the sea! --[from "songs by the sea." days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months, and these in turn crept onward into years, and the duties and joys of heaven grew clearer and dearer with each passing hour. our home-life was perfect, though we looked forward with joy to the future coming of our son and daughter to make its ties complete. we had often spoken of going together to the great celestial sea, but the time had never seemed quite ripe for so doing. we realized it was one of the great mysteries of heaven, although we knew not just what to expect, since there no one ever seeks to forestall sight by description. one evening i said to my brother: "i have a strange desire to go to the sea, if you think it wise that we should do so." "i am glad that it is your desire to go, as it is mine to have you. i was about to propose that you and my brother should take together this blessed journey." "will you not accompany us?" "not at this time. we will all take it again together, but it is best that now you two should go alone. you know the way. through the forest that leads to the temple, till almost there; then bear to the right and follow the golden path that takes you direct to the shore." so, in the quivering light of the glorious morning we started, full of a holy joy that together we might take this special journey. we entered and traversed the great forest, where the golden light fell through the quivering branches overhead, and birds of gorgeous plumage and thrilling song were darting everywhere. we heard, nearer and ever nearer, the regular dashing of the waves against the shore; and now there came to us bursts of triumphant song and the harmony of many instruments of music. at length we emerged from the forest, and stood mute and motionless before the overwhelming glory of the scene before us. can i describe it as it appeared to me that day? never, until my lips can speak, and your heart understand, the language of the royal courts above. from our very feet sloped downward toward the shore a golden strand many hundred feet wide, and extending on either hand far beyond the limits of our vision. this strand caught and radiated the morning light until wherever it was visible it glittered and glimmered like the dust of diamonds and other precious stones, and the waves, as they came and went in ceaseless motion, caught up this sparking sand and carried it on their crests, like the phosphorescence we sometimes see in the wake of a vessel in mid-ocean. and the sea! it spread out before us in a radiance that passes description in any language i have ever known. it was like the white glory that shone through the windows of the temple, and beneath this shining glory we caught in the roll of the waves the blue tint of the waters of that sea which has no limit to its depths or bounds. upon its shining bosom we saw in every direction boats, representing all nations, but in beauty of construction far surpassing anything earth has ever known. they were like great open pleasure-barges, and were filled with people looking with eager faces toward the shore, many in their eagerness standing erect and gazing with wistful, expectant eyes into the faces of those upon the shore. ah, the people upon the shore! "numberless as the sands of the sea," they stood, far as the eye could reach, far as stretched the shore of that illimitable sea, a great mass of beautiful souls clad in the spotless garments of the redeemed. many among them had golden harps and various instruments of music, and whenever a boat touched the shore and its inmates were welcomed by the glad voices and tender embraces of their beloved ones in the throng, the harps would be held aloft, all of the golden instruments would sound, and the vast multitude would break forth into the triumphant song of victory over death and the grave. "do these people stand here always, i wonder?" i said softly. "not the same people," said a radiant being near us, who had heard my question. "but there is always a throng of people here--those who are expecting friends from the other life, and those who assemble to share their joy. some of the heavenly choristers also are always here, but not always the same ones. you will notice that most of those who arrive are led quietly away by their friends, and many others are constantly joining the multitude." he passed onward toward the shore, and left us rapt in awe and wonder. we soon became deeply interested in watching the reunions, and found ourselves joining with rapture in the glad songs of rejoicing. now and then a face we remembered to have seen on earth would be among the eager faces in the boats, but none that had been especially dear to us; still it made us notice more closely and sympathize more heartily with those who welcomed beloved friends. now we would see a wife caught in the close embrace of a waiting husband; now a little child with a glad cry would spring into the outstretched arms of the happy mother; friend would clasp friend in glad reunion, and here an aged mother would be folded to the heart of a beloved child. as one boat of more than usual strength and beauty came riding gracefully over the waves, we observed the tall figure of a man standing near her prow with his arms about a graceful woman who stood by his side. each shaded with uplifted hand from their dazzled eyes the unwonted splendor and scanned, wistfully and searchingly, the faces of the crowd as the boat neared the shore. suddenly with a great thrill of joy surging through my being, i cried out: "it is our precious son, and his dear wife! and they have come together!" in an instant we were swiftly moving through the throng that parted in ready sympathy to let us pass. and, as the boat touched the shore, with a swift movement they were both beside us--the dear daughter already close clasped to the hearts of her own happy parents who were waiting near the water's edge, while at the same instant we felt the arms of our beloved son enfolding us; and soon thereafter we were all in each other's embrace. oh, what a rapturous moment was that! our home life in heaven complete, no partings forever! as we stood with encircling arms, scarcely realizing the unexpected bliss, the heavenly choir broke into song; and with uplifted faces radiant with joy, eyes filled with happy tears and voices trembling with emotion, we all joined in the glad anthem: glory be unto the father, and unto the son! glory be unto the ever-blessed three in one! no more sorrow, no more parting, no more grief or pain; christ has broken death's strong fetters, we are free again! heart to heart and hand to hand, meet we on the golden strand. glory, glory to the father! glory to the son! glory be unto the ever-blessed three in one! alleluia! amen! the song rose and swelled triumphantly as the vast multitude caught it up, and the surge of the waves made a deep undertone to the melody that increased its solemnity, as with bowed heads and full hearts we passed onward hand in hand; and the light that fell about us was purer, holier, more divine, than it had ever been before. chapter xix. can such things be, and overcome us like a summer's cloud, without our special wonder? --[shakespeare. a time came when one day as i stood in my lovely room that had really become to me a shrine, and looked up into the pictured face of the christ above me, i fancied that the tender eyes looking down into mine no longer told of a deathless love alone, but carried in their depths a pity, a loving compassion which i had never noticed there before. then as i turned toward my couch i even fancied that his hands reached out from the canvas and rested in benediction on my head. i stood a moment in blessed peace before him, then as the hands seemed to be withdrawn, i turned and lay down for an instant's rest. but strange thoughts and fancies crept into my brain, such as i had not known in years. i felt confused and bewildered, and started up restlessly from my pillow, only to fall back again in doubt, and something akin to dread. what could it mean? could the old unrest of earth find place in this divine retreat? then i heard unfamiliar voices. someone said: "her color is better than it has been for several days, i think." "yes, there is no doubt but she is better to-day. there is really hope for her now, i am sure. but she came very near passing through the gates." "very near passing through the gates"! as though i had not passed through, and in returning left them so ajar that gleams of the heavenly radiance from beyond them will fall about my life forever! i have been in my father's house. "we shall know each other there!" supplemental chapter in the many letters received since the publication of "intra muros," repeated inquiries have been made of me on different points contained in the book, requiring much correspondence, and it has been suggested that possibly the addition of a few pages, as a supplement to the book, might explain some matters, or, possibly, make more clear some points that have not been fully comprehended by the reader. let me in the beginning reassert what i have heretofore stated: that i have never claimed that this strange experience is either a revelation or an inspiration. it came to me during a period of great physical suffering and prostration, and i have always considered it as sent in compensation for that suffering. be this as it may, it has been a great comfort and help to me, and, through the letters received from others, i am led to believe it has been the same to many who have read it, for which cause i am extremely gratified. i wish that i might give the entire experience just as it came to me, but i find that earth-language is wholly inadequate for me to do so. there were so many mysteries, so many teachings far beyond anything that in this life we have known, that i find myself bewildered and lost when i attempt to convey to others the marvelous things that at that time seemed indeed to me to be a most wonderful revelation. the question has repeatedly been asked me, "was this a real experience, or merely a fanciful sketch?" what i have written above will as nearly answer that question as it is possible for me to do. the preface and early pages as given in the little volume are as nearly accurate as i can make them; and anything that i might add on that point would simply be superfluous. to me, at the time, it was as real as any experience in this life could possibly be. questions have been asked respecting the comparative distances in heaven and our powers of passing from one point to another; and the question has even been asked if in the other life we developed wings that aided us in passage, as the wings of a bird. these matter-of-fact questions are sometimes quite difficult to answer, for my belief is, that if i were really in the other life, as during this experience i seemed to be, my thoughts would be so far above, so lifted beyond such temporal matters, that i would be unable to answer such inquiries satisfactorily on my return to this life. looking back upon it now, and trying to gather facts from the impressions that i then received, i should say that none who have ever passed through mortal life would in any way be changed from their present personal appearance, except to be etherealized and glorified. when i seemed to stand in that wonderful temple filled with the glory of god the father, four angels with uplifted trumpets stood beside the golden altar on the great platform of pearl, and from their shoulders shadowy pinions enfolded them and touched the floor upon which they stood. and when, in a moment of bewildering emotion, i lifted my eyes to the erstwhile cloud-filled dome, i saw about the hitherto invisible choir, the shadowy pinions of which we so often read, half concealing the harps and instruments of gold. also, when at the close of that wonderful day when i had first met the savior, we heard the angel voices as we stood together in the great flower-room, and, looking upward, saw the child faces in the golden twilight above us, they, too, had delicate shadowy wings, half concealing the baby forms. except for this, i have no recollection of having seen any of those glorious wings of which we so often read. to me it seems that to the angels of god who have always lived in heaven, these are given; but to those who have suffered and toiled and borne the cross below, is given only the glorified form, such as our savior himself bore. we appear to our friends when we meet them over there just as they saw us here, only purified and perfect. still, we had powers of locomotion given us that carried us from point to point swiftly and securely, as though borne by a boat upon the waters. i do not know how i can better illustrate this point than by giving a little incident not mentioned in the book. i remember, as i sat one morning upon the upper terrace in the house of my sister whom i had welcomed there soon after my arrival, and who, though really then a denizen of earth, has since passed over and taken possession of that beautiful home prepared for her, that my sister said to me: "i often look across the river to those lovely hills in the distance, and wonder if it is all as beautiful there as here. i mean some day to go and see." "why not go to-day?" was my answer. "could you go with me this morning?" was her inquiry, as she turned her radiant face again toward the river and the lovely fields beyond. "with pleasure," i replied. "i have often wished to go myself. there is something very inviting in the beautiful landscape beyond the river. where is my brother oliver?" i asked; "will he not accompany us?" "no," she said, looking smilingly toward me, "he has gone upon an important mission for the master to-day; but you and i, dear, can go, and be at home again before his return." "then let us do so," i replied, rising and giving her my hand. she at once arose, and, instead of turning toward the stairway in the center of the building, we turned and walked deliberately to the low coping that surrounded the upper veranda. without a moment's hesitation we stepped over this into the sweet air that lay about us. there was no more fear of falling than if our feet had been upon the solid earth. we had the power of passing through the air at will, and through the water, just as we had the power of walking upon the crystal paths and greensward about us. we ascended slightly until we were just above the tree-tops, and then--what shall i say?--we did not fly, we made no effort either with our hands or our feet; i can only think of the word "drifting" that will at all describe this wonderful experience. we went as a leaf or a feather floats through the air on a balmy day, and the sensation was most delightful. we saw beneath us through the green branches of the trees the little children playing, and the people walking--some for pleasure, some for duty. as we neared the river we looked down on the pleasure-boats upon the water and upon the people sitting or lying or walking on the pebbly bottom; and we saw them with the same distinctness as though we were looking at them simply through the atmosphere. conversing as we drifted onward, we soon were over the tops of the hills to which we had looked so longingly from the veranda of my sister's house, and, for some time, we had no words to exchange; our hearts were filled with sensations such as only the scenes of heaven can give. then my sister said very softly, quoting from one of the old earth-hymns: "sweet fields beyond the swelling flood. stand dressed in living green." and, in the same spirit, i answered, "it is indeed a rapturous scene-- "'that rises to our sight, sweet fields arrayed in living green, and rivers of delight.'" as we passed onward, in looking down we began to see many suburban villages, similar to that in which our own happy homes were situated. among many of them there was an unfamiliar air, and the architecture of the buildings in many respects seemed quite different from our own. i suggested to my sister that we drop downward a little. on doing so, we soon realized what caused this apparent difference in the architecture and surroundings. where our homes were situated we were surrounded by people we had known and loved on earth, and of our own nationality. many of these villages over which we were now passing we found were formed from what, to us, would be termed of foreign nations, and each village retained some of the peculiarities of its earth-life, and these, to us, were naturally unfamiliar. we recognized again the wisdom and goodness of the father in thus allowing friends of the same nationality to be located near each other in heaven, as on earth. as we still drifted onward, in passing over an exquisitely beautiful valley, between low hills of the most enchanting verdure, we saw a group of people seated upon the ground in a semicircle. they seemed to be hundreds in number, and in their midst a man was standing who, apparently, was talking to them. something familiar, and yet unfamiliar, in the scene attracted us, and i said, "let us go nearer, and hear, if possible, what he is saying, and see who these people are." upon doing this we found the people to resemble in a great measure our own indian tribes; their dress, in a manner, corresponding to that worn upon earth, though so etherealized as to be surpassingly beautiful. but the dusky faces and the long black hair still remained. the faces, with intense interest depicted on each, were turned toward the man who, we could see, was talking to them, and, looking upon him, we saw at once that he belonged to the anglo-saxon race. in a whisper of surprise i said to my sister: "why, he is a missionary!" as so often seemed to me to happen in that experience, when a surprise or a difficulty presented itself, there was always some one near to answer and enlighten us. and so we found on this occasion that our instructor was beside us ready to answer any surprise or question that might be asked. he said at once: "yes, you are right. this is a missionary who gave his life to what on earth were called the heathen. he spent many years in working for them and enlightening those who sat in darkness, with the result, as you see before you, of bringing hundreds into the kingdom of the master. but, as you will naturally suppose, they have much to learn, and here he still gathers them about him, and day by day leads them higher and higher into the blessed life." "are there many such," i asked, "doing this work in this beautiful realm?" "many hundreds," he said. "to these poor minds, unenlightened as they were when they first came, heaven is as beautiful and happy a place as it is to any who have ascended higher, simply because we can enjoy only in the capacity to which our souls can reach. there are none of us who have not much yet to learn of this wonderful country." in several instances, as we drifted across above the villages, we heard songs of praise arising from the temples, and from people collected in different ways. in many cases, to our surprise, the hymns and the words were those with which we had been familiar on earth, and, although sung in a strange tongue, we understood them all. that was another of the wonderful surprises of heaven. there was no language there that we could not understand. on, and on, and on, through wonderful scenes of beauty we passed, returning finally to our own homes by a different way from that by which we had gone forth, seeming to have made almost a circle in our pleasant journeyings. when i left my sister in her own home she whispered to me as she bade me good-by for the present: "it has been a day of such wonderful rest and pleasure that we must soon repeat it together." and i answered: "yes, dear, we will." in several instances the subject of dual marriages has been introduced. more than once it has been suggested, "if a man marrying in early life, and, being devotedly attached to the woman he has married, should unfortunately lose her, and after many years of solitary waiting find another congenial soul to whom his whole heart goes out and marriage is the result, and they have many years of wedded happiness together before she, too, is called, to whom will he belong in the other life?" in the many phases of the divine life that seemed to come to me in my vision, such thoughts as the above were never by any means suggested. speaking from my own natural intuitions, i cannot but think that as soon as the immortal part of us leaves the earthly tenement, it lays down forever, with that tenement, all thoughts that embarrassed or grieved or pained the spirit. in the homes of heaven there was perpetual love and joy and peace and happiness without measure. this one thing i know: in heaven are no conflicting ties; no questions that vex; no conditions that annoy; the whole heart springs up to do the will of the father, and nothing less than that will suffice. in answer to the question in many instances proposed to me, as to whether i consider this experience as a revelation, i can only say, as heretofore, that i gave it as it came to me, and every one must draw his own inference concerning it. i can be the guide for no one. there are some seeming inconsistencies in the book, of which i myself am aware. looking back upon it after nearly four years have passed, it seems to me to be more a series of instructions such as we give little children here in a kindergarten. it does not purport to be a revelation of what has been or what will be, in the strict sense of the word, but, as i have already suggested, more as we would teach children in a kindergarten. i myself noticed, in transcribing this strange experience, the fact that the first lesson to be taught almost invariably came as an illustration; and, after my wonder and pleasure had taken in all that the picture itself would teach, then followed the revelation, or a general application of its meaning. for instance, that i may make my meaning more clear: when i myself first entered within the gates, i was shown the wonders of the celestial gardens and the magic of the beautiful river; then the meeting with the dear ones from whom i had been so long parted. and so i came to know the rapture of the disembodied spirit on its first entrance "within the walls." afterwards followed the instruction or first lessons concerning this life into which i seemed to have entered, until, as i said, the first illustrations and the instructions formed for me but one perfect lesson. and when, as time passed, i met and welcomed my dear sister, my husband and my son, i knew the other side of the question--the joy that came even to the angels in heaven when they welcomed the beloved ones who came to them from the world below. and so, all through the book, the instruction was invariably preceded by the illustration. thus i can but think, if any meaning can be attached to this strange vision, that it is simply a lesson in a general way of what we may expect and hope for when we reach the thither shore. again, the question is many times repeated, "does this experience retain its vividness as time passes, or does it grow unreal and dreamlike to you?" i can partially forget some of the happiest experiences of my earth-life, but time seems only to intensify to me the wonders of those days when my feet really stood upon the border-land of the two worlds. it seemed to me that at every step we took in the divine life our souls reached up toward something better, and we had no inclination to look behind to that which had passed, or to try to solve what in our mortal life had been intricate or perplexing questions or mysteries. like the cup that is filled to overflowing at the fountain with pure and sparkling water, so our souls were filled--more than filled--with draughts from the fountain of all good, until there was no longer room for aught else. "how then," you ask, "could you reach out for more, when you had all that you could receive?" because moment by moment, hour by hour, our souls grew and expanded and opened to receive fresh draughts of divine instruction which was constantly lifting us nearer to the source of all perfection. some of the letters that have come to me have been so pathetic in their inquiries, that they have called forth sympathetic tears, and an intense longing to speak with authority upon the questions raised. that privilege god has not given me. i can only tell how it seemed to me in those blissful hours when earth seemed remote and heaven very near and real. one suffering mother writes, "do you think i could pray still for my darling girl?" how i longed to take her in sympathetic arms and whisper to her that the dear child of her love, i doubted not, was praising god continually and had no longer need of earthly prayer. she loved and trusted the savior as she went down into the valley of shadows, and his loving arms received and comforted her. to all such i would say--and many are the letters of like import received: "look up, dear friends, and see the loved ones, as i saw those so dear to me, happy and blessed beyond all human conception in the house of many mansions prepared for us by our loving father." oh, those wonderful mansions upon which my longing heart looks back! believe in them, look forward to them, beloved friends, for we have the savior's promise that they at least are there: "in my father's house are many mansions." his promises never fail; and i am sure of one thing they will not be less beautiful than those i looked upon in my vision. this thought, to me, answers in a measure the questions asked in regard to dual marriages. my own belief, of this mortal life, is, that no two friends can occupy the same place in our hearts. each heart is filled with chambers stately and old, and to each beloved guest is assigned a chamber exclusively for himself. that room is always his. if death, or distance, or even disgrace, separates him from us, still the room is his and his only forever. no other person can ever occupy it. others may have rooms equally choice, but when a guest has once departed from the room he has held in another heart, the door of that room is barred forever; it is held inviolate--sacred to the departed guest. and so, in heaven, each guest has his separate room or home. "in my father's house are many mansions. i go to prepare a place (room) for you." i am no advocate of second marriages. the thought of two lives alone as one, is beautiful to me; but i do not, all the same, believe that a man sins against the memory of a wife beloved and lost, when he places by her side (not in her place) a good woman to cheer and brighten his home. she cannot, if she would, take the place left vacant in his home and heart; it is inviolate. i speak, of course, of true marriages, where not only hands are joined, but hearts and souls are knit together as one forever. "what are the duties of heaven?" so many and varied, i should judge, as to make the question unanswerable. much in "intra muros" shows the trend of daily life. "rest?" one of the duties as well as the pleasures of heaven. rest does not of necessity mean inactivity. how often in this life does laying aside of one duty and taking up another bring rest to both mind and body! still, as i found it, there was at times absolute "rest" for both mind and body in that blissful repose that only heaven can give. in but one instance of the manifold letters received was any feeling produced in their perusal except that of pleasure and gratitude that i--with so little physical strength of my own--could bring comfort and pleasure into the lives of others. i thank our gracious father that he has so kindly permitted it. the one letter to which i refer contains so many almost puerile inquiries, that i simply laid it aside with a quotation from st. paul, "of the earth earthy," and asked the father to lift the heart of the writer into a purer light. in conclusion i can only reiterate that i am no prophet, i am no seer; but, in my inmost soul, i honestly believe that if the joys of heaven are greater, if the glories "within the walls" are more radiant than i in my vision beheld them, i cannot understand how even the immortal spirit can bear to look upon them. r. r. s. transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. archaic spelling and variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained except in obvious cases of typographical error. the spirit of god as fire; the globe within the sun our heaven. reasons for such hypothesis founded upon god's own revelations and recent developments through the lights of astronomy. by d. mortimore, m. d. published by f. c. cook & co., new york. new york: sheldon & company, & broadway. . entered according to act of congress, in the year , by d. mortimore, m. d., in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the western district of tennessee. contents. page preface the theme the immortality of the soul and a future state of existence the possibility of a more intimate knowledge of god; our relations to him, and of a future state or place of habitation the creation the sun, the source of light and heat wondrous works of god the discoveries of the motion of the earth and heavenly bodies the romish church ghastly revelations attraction, gravitation, &c. suns, stars, planets, &c. fixed stars are suns a contemplation the sun,--and globe within the planets of our solar system god's throne shall endure forever; so also shall the sun. scriptural evidence for all that we claim sun and heaven a plurality of heavens a place for the wicked the nature of the light of the heavenly world that heavenly world the dimensions and capacity of the city--there is room for all, and to spare the native population of the heavenly world the vast numbers of the angels amazing strength of angels rapidity of movement of the angels certainty of a resurrection the resurrection a serious contemplation the final judgment a home in heaven conclusive and concluding argument will all take heed? appeal to christian ministers appeal to all preface. in presenting this volume to the "intelligence of the world," the author is fully aware of the incredulity with which it may meet in many literary minds. nevertheless, the truths which it contains will remain unmarred by the salient attacks of "critics," when they have passed away and have ceased to be remembered. thus it has ever been with the discovery of all great and important truths, from the creation of man down to the present day. for more than eighteen hundred years now past, the succession of a once prominent race have disbelieved in the messiahship of christ. and even the christian world are still divided in their belief as to a trinity in unity. some three hundred years ago, the great and learned philosopher and astronomer, galileo, made an ascent in the empire of mind and science, and promulgated immutable truths founded upon the laws of creation, emanating from god himself; yet these were, for a time, disbelieved, and, through the bigotry of a controlling priesthood, he was even forced to renounce them before a court of "cardinals" of the romish church, sitting as "_inquisitors against heretical depravity_" at the city of rome; and at the venerable age of seventy years, to accept the sentence to a dungeon for life, in the "inquisition;" and yet these same truths have universally prevailed. so, also, are there unbelievers to-day, in the existence of a god, and the immortality of the soul--the truth of which all christians, and even heathens, believe. we, therefore, feel that in advancing a new theory, especially one of such magnitude and import, that we shall meet more or less opposition; but we are willing to abide time's inevitable changes, in advancing the mind to grasp and comprehend truths which god himself has revealed for our contemplation. still, we believe that there are many millions who are now ready to comprehend and believe, and are only waiting for a little additional light, or the grouping together of facts founded on the revelations of god, and examined in the light of a true science. philosophers and astronomers have advanced the idea of "a plurality of suns, and a plurality of worlds," and have sustained this theory by the most convincing evidence. this lays the foundation for a further advance in the contemplation of the wonderful works of the creator, and justifies the hypothesis of a _plurality of heavens_; and we think the revelations of god, and revelations through the science of astronomy, will sustain the additional hypothesis that within what are denominated "suns" there are vast globes or worlds, separate and apart from the surrounding _photosphere of ethereal fire_, and that within what we denominate our sun, _is our heaven_. we have, therefore, penned the following pages with this impression fixed in our mind, and send this volume forth to encounter the enlightenment of the age, to be sifted and weighed in the _sieve_ and _scale_ of intellect; and, relying on the word of god and his revelations to man, we feel satisfied that when the ordeal is past, we shall still have remaining "full measure and weight." in order to afford a more perfect comprehension of the "wonderful works of god," and of his revelations to man, we have, necessarily, availed ourselves largely of the results of the science of astronomy, quoting the writings and conclusions of various eminent authors, giving due credit therefor; and to them the author acknowledges his indebtedness for statistical data and facts which could not otherwise be obtained by any single individual. grouping these together as assistant lamps, we have relied, mainly, upon the word of god, and his revelations, as found recorded in the bible, and evidences manifest in perceptible and visible nature around us, while we trust that all we have written will the more forcibly impress the mind with deep humility, and with awe and reverence for the great jehovah, who created all by the "word of his power." we have endeavored to avoid sectarian issues, as to protestant communities, throughout the world--save our own convictions of immutable truth in regard to the true principles of christianity, and that salvation is offered alike freely to _all_, and that by due repentance toward god, and faith in our lord jesus christ, all may come to the knowledge of his truth, and "know the lord, whom to know aright is eternal life." and, believing as we do, that every soul is held alike accountable to god alone--and in nowise to pope, bishops, or priests--there were historical facts connected with our subject, which, we thought, justified our strictures on the romish church, and these it may be well for protestants to consider. we, therefore, dedicate this volume to the protestant world, and, while we acknowledge our inability to do the subject ample justice; yet--hoping we have been made the humble instrument, under the direction of divine providence, of opening up to the mind a new field for profitable contemplation--we ask for it a candid perusal, in the spirit of prayer and christian leniency, commending all to a careful consideration of the words of the _psalmist_: "by the word of the lord were the heavens made, and all the hosts of them by the breath of his mouth. "the heavens declare the glory of god, and the firmament sheweth his handy work. "whoso is wise, and will observe these things, even they shall understand the loving-kindness of the lord." the author. the theme. the theme we are now about to contemplate is one of deepest interest to the human mind. if we can fathom and unfold the mystery--as we believe we shall--by analogy, founded in the light of _reason_, divine revelations, and the lights afforded us by the science of astronomy, and give tangibility to the--hitherto--chaos of the mind upon the subject, we may lay the foundation for a more comprehensive and intimate knowledge of god, the great creator of all things, and this knowledge should lead to more speedily christianizing the world. god has made himself manifest in everything, and to every individual. nature yields to this manifestation, yet does not comprehend it. even man, the human family--the only creatures of a high order of intelligence placed by him upon this earth--seem not to have risen to that comprehension of knowledge to which they should attain from his lessons of the past, as well as those of the present, and which lessons are renewed unto us day by day. our principal theme is that of _the place of our future existence--especially_ heaven. we approach the subject with fear and trembling, asking wisdom and divine aid of him who hath said, "seek and ye shall find," and of whom it is written, "if any lack wisdom, let him ask of god, and it shall be given him." we know that we cannot throw that flood-tide of light upon the subject that the theme demands, yet we may be the humble instrument, under direction of divine providence, to mark out a path through the wilderness of doubt, along which may shine, or through which the "eye of faith" may catch, a ray of light from the bright "celestial throne," which may induce others--more able minds and giant intellects--to step forth, wielding mightily "the sword of the spirit," and open out to the mind a plainer path, as the "king's highway," leading up to that celestial world, to glory and to god. we believe that if a reasonable, tangible idea of the constant presence of god with us prevailed, as also of the heavenly world, and the glories that shall be revealed; the nature of the soul of man; from whence derived; the certainty that it must endure forever; the requirements of the law of god; the certainty of the judgment; who is to be the judge; the certainty that no error can be committed in his judgment; no influences can be brought to bear to defeat the ends of justice; that the righteous shall be adjudged to the enjoyment of happiness and eternal life; the wicked be "banished from the presence of god, and from the glory of his power," "to dwell in everlasting flame, and languish in eternal fire," and that this righteous judgment will never be revoked, but stand immutable as god himself--on and on through all eternity--we say we believe if this could be fully comprehended by finite minds, the time would not be distant "when all _would_ come to a knowledge of the truth, and know the lord, whom to know aright is eternal life." this knowledge should not be sought through fear alone, but mainly through love to god, and faith in his son, our lord jesus christ, and from the delights we feel in our consciousness of the constant presence of god--by his spirit--with us; stimulated by love to our fellow-men; love of all nature around us; love of the wonderful works of the creative power of the omnipotent--even the vast wonders of his creations throughout his own native empire. may we not? can we not know more of all this? we are not forbidden to investigate, to found reason on his revelations. nay, he hath said, "search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life, and these are they which testify of me." we do not propose the building of a "tower" like unto that of _babel_, for he hath said, "not by _might_, but by my _spirit_." therefore, by the manifestations of his spirit, which becomes sufficiently enlightening, when properly comprehended, we will endeavor to throw a faint--if not a flood-light from that eternal world into the eye of _faith_. and, if we cannot, like the martyr stephen, "see heaven opened, and the son of man standing at the right hand of god," or ascend to it with "elijah in a chariot of flaming fire," we may, by the mind's eye of faith, "see through the vail darkly," yet with sufficient light to direct us, and guide our wandering footsteps in the path that leads to that "bright clime," where the "glory of god" is the light of that heavenly world. our theme necessarily leads us forth through trackless realms of boundless space, where, with the mind's eye, we shall behold with wonder and amazement some of the vast creations of the omnipotent power of god; such as will inspire the mind, and fill it with awe and reverence for the great jehovah. we shall have a panoramic view of millions of suns--_heavens_--planets, and worlds, standing out, or careering through ethereal regions; peopling the realms of illimitable space. we shall comprehend more fully the diminutiveness of this earth; on which we dwell, as compared to the vast creations brought forth by the "word of his power," and of our own nothingness before him, while all must inspire us, not only with awe, but with gratitude and love for his merciful provision for our redemption, and for regaining "an inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." _the immortality of the soul, and a future state of existence._ the bible--now "the book of the world"--is god's own revelation to man. that it was penned by holy men of god, who wrote as they were inspired, has been fully manifested by the fulfilment of prophecies; many of which were miracles, and others--in their accomplishment--awful and fearful judgments. hence, none can doubt its authenticity as god's own revelation to man. it is our only history of the wonderful creations emanating from the great first cause; especially the creation of _man_; his mortal, as well as his immortal nature. from this history we learn that "god created man in his own image; in the image of god created he him; male and female created he them. and god breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." now, man is here spoken of in the plural: hence, the whole race--the entire human family, are included, and this living principle, emanating from god himself, partakes of his own immortal nature, and can never cease or be extinguished. therefore, the soul, or spirit of man, must continue to endure through all eternity. the belief in a future state of existence has obtained in all ages; even in the dark regions of heathen lands, where the light of christianity has never yet shed its radiance, and where missionaries have never penetrated. the mind of man--the thinking principle of human intelligence--seems to have comprehended this great truth; even where christianity, founded upon bible truths, is unknown. indeed, the idea of the immortality of the soul of man seems _inherent_. for, go where we may, among the aborigines of every heathen clime, even from the islands of the bahamas to hindostan, india, japan, and china; the savage tribes of south america, the red tribes of our own continent, or even the black races of africa--all hold the idea of a future state of existence. true, they may not have formed correct opinions as to the nature of the place to which they expect to be transported, nor of the felicities to be enjoyed there; yet all have the idea of a future state, and it has ever prevailed. if we trace history back to the ancient egyptians, the persians, the scythians, the assyrians, greeks, and romans; indeed, with all nations of which history gives us any knowledge, we find that it has ever prevailed. plato, socrates, and demosthenes held the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, and of a future state of existence; while such belief almost universally prevails in every land and clime where civilization and christianity are known. thus we see it an inherent law of human nature, and, in the minds of all, there is "a longing after _immortality_." may we not ask, from whence comes this intuition, that all feel that death to the body is not the end of existence? is it not that immortal spirit-life which god breathed into our first parents? that _spirit-fire_ which is eternal in its nature? that which can never be quenched nor extinguished? the patriarchs, the prophets, and seers of old realized that here they had no abiding place, and that they were but pilgrims and strangers on the earth. we are told that abraham, isaac, and jacob desired a better country, and looked forward to a heavenly one. paul tells us "these all died in the faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off." see how moses submitted to sufferings, and endured privations; yet in all these he "had respect unto the recompense of reward." how many of those worthy ancients suffered persecutions in various ways for their acts of piety? even cruel mockings, scourgings, bonds, and imprisonments. some were cruelly tortured, others were stoned, and still others sawed asunder; and yet under all these trials, and even scourgings unto death, they held firm in the faith of a living god, a future existence, and "a sure recompense of reward." see job, that faithful servant of the living god, how his faith was sorely tried by all manner of afflictions. his flocks and herds destroyed; his wealth dissipated; while disease, painful and loathsome, preyed upon him. his sufferings and agonies were so intense that all his friends believed him cursed of god, and forsook him; and even his wife--who had enjoyed the fruits of his efforts in life, reviled his integrity of faith, and scornfully told him to "curse god and die." but let us hear this patient, suffering child of god: "_true_, my flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken and become loathsome, and i feel as though i would not live alway. yet all the days of my appointed time will i wait, until my change comes, _and even_ though he slay me, yet will i trust in him. i know that i shall be justified. for he shall be my salvation. if a man die he shall live again. and now, behold my witness is in heaven, and my record is on high. for i know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand in the latter day upon the earth. and though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall i see god, whom i shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold." where! oh, where, hath such faith been shown! and his faith being sorely tried and found true and unwavering, his god came to his relief, restored him to health, and blessed him--even more abundantly than before; after which he lived an hundred and forty years and died in peace. here we see, that, long anterior to the coming of christ, job declared that he knew his redeemer was then living, and that in the "latter days" he should "stand on the earth." see this truthful evidence of the son of god coming down from heaven to ransom and redeem fallen man! the prophets foretold the coming of the messiah, who should "ransom his people from the power of the grave," and "redeem them from the second death." the sweet singer of israel, looking forward to coming ages, through the vista of revelations, breaks forth in rapturous confidence-- "thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. whom have i in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that i desire beside thee. though my heart and my flesh fail me, yet thou art the strength of my heart and my portion forever." the prophet isaiah declares, "thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise." and, calling in spirit unto the silent dead, he saith: "awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust, * * the earth shall cast out her dead." in fulfilment of prophesy, the son of god came as the "plague of death" and "destruction of the grave." his advent into the world was signalized by a "star in the east," guiding the wise men--who were looking for his coming--to the "town of bethlehem, where lay the babe in the manger." while an angel, commissioned by the father, announced his arrival, and "good tidings of great joy" to the shepherds who were watching their flocks by night upon the plains of judea, saying, "unto you is born this day in the city of david a saviour, which is christ the lord." "and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising god," and, as a heavenly choir, sounding the loud anthem, "glory to god in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." this was "him of whom moses in the law, and the prophets did write," even the "sun of righteousness," whose coming was foretold by the prophet malachi. by his teachings, and miracles wrought in after life, he proved his origin and mission. but this mission could not be fully accomplished until he should conquer death, hell, and the grave, and "bring life and immortality to light through his own gospel." finally, the day and the hour came for its complete fulfilment. borne down with the weight of the sins of a guilty world, he prayed his father to strengthen him, while "in agony he sweat great drops of blood." see him ascending the rugged steeps of calvary, bearing his own cross, upon which his human nature must expire between heaven and earth. nailed to that cross, he hung upon it in painful agony, and for three dreadful hours the sun, the source of light, was veiled, "and there was darkness over all the land," and about the ninth hour, his humanity "cried with a loud voice, my god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me!" and gave up the ghost. "and behold the vail of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks were rent, and the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept, arose." now, while his lifeless body was still suspended upon the cross, the work was not yet complete until the roman soldier approached and plunged his spear into his side, and thus baptized the world in a fountain of blood. and, through faith in him, that is the only fountain that can wash our guilty stains away, and present us purified before his throne. mark you the circumstances as they then transpired. the sun was veiled, and "darkness prevailed over all the earth, from the sixth until the ninth hour," and it was at the ninth hour he cried, "it is finished and gave up the ghost." it was his mission "to bring life and immortality to light." god, the father, had veiled the sun, that the earth should be in utter darkness. may it not have been the first act of his son's immortality--after this tragic scene--to unveil the sun, and throw its light--under a new dispensation--upon the world? but he had come to conquer "death, hell, and the grave," "and lead captivity captive." his body was placed in a sepulchre; from whence he had said he would rise on the third day. the priests and pharisees remembering this, besought pilate, who commanded that the sepulchre be made secure, which was done by a great stone under seal, and a guard stationed over it, that no one might approach by day or by night. but, behold, on the morning of the third day, an "angel of the lord appeared from heaven," whose descent caused a great earthquake, who "rolled back the stone and sat upon it; and his countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow; and for fear of him the keepers did shake and became as dead men." the angel said unto the two marys, "i know ye seek jesus, which was crucified; he is not here, for he is risen." thus, behold his triumph! he burst the bands of death asunder, and rushing forth from the tyrant's grasp, shouted in triumph over this last enemy, "oh, death where is thy sting? oh, grave where is thy victory?" "i am the resurrection and the life." "i am he that liveth and was dead, and behold i am alive forevermore, and have the keys of hell and of death." thus the fulfilment of prophesy and the promise, that he should become the first fruits of them that slept. we have subsequent evidence of his resurrection, where he appeared in the midst of his disciples, when they had met in their private chamber and had closed the door. but there have been doubters, and unbelievers, in all ages--even though confirmative evidences have been strong and plain. so, also, was there one in that little assembly. poor thomas could not believe, even though his lord and master stood before him; but the saviour, full of tender compassion, said to him: "come, place thy fingers in the nail prints, and thrust thy hand into the opening made by the soldier's spear in my side, and be not faithless, but believing." now while god through his prophet hath said, "there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the almighty giveth him understanding," revelation is replete with evidence that "though a man die, yet shall he live again." christ, the son of god, illustrated his power in uttering the command, "lazarus, come forth," and he that had been dead four days, whose mortality was fast decomposing and yielding to corruption, arose again into life. thus in the days of his incarnation, he manifested his power by the miracles he wrought in numerous instances of restoring sight to the blind, causing the deaf to hear; the dumb to speak; the lame to walk; healing the sick; cleansing the leprous, and bringing the dead to life again: while, in the power of his own resurrection, he made triumphantly manifest the immortality of the soul; and the entire new testament scriptures abound with evidences that through him "life and immortality have been brought to light." thus we see that the immortality of the soul, and a future state of existence are plainly manifest. _possibility of a more intimate knowledge of god; our relations to him,--and of a future state or place of habitation._ we believe that god himself has furnished us evidences through which we should gain a more intimate knowledge of him; of our relations to him, and of our future state and place of habitation. in sustaining this belief, and the hypothesis we have already advanced, as to the location of heaven,--to which we shall also add our views as to the location of _hell_,--we shall rely mainly upon the revelations of god, as found recorded in the bible. should we not furnish positive, we believe we _shall_ furnish strong _circumstancial_, evidence which will as forcibly impress the minds of our readers with the correctness of our theory, as it has our own, upon the investigation of it. with this we shall grasp, and intermingle, the evidences afforded by the science of astronomy; the mighty revelations of the wondrous works of god as now revealed to us by the aid of the _telescope_. we know that some of the most learned theologians and ablest divines, of the past, as also many of the present age, have written, and have labored hard--theoretically--to point out to the mind's eye the locality of heaven, fixed somewhere in illimitable space. but, as yet, their most profound efforts, aided though they might have been by the lights afforded through the science of astronomy; the bible, and all nature around them as assistants to their own brilliant imaginations, have failed to satisfy, even themselves, and all has resolved itself back again into doubt and uncertainty, leaving the minds of all bewildered with ideas as numerous, yet as vague and uncertain as mystery itself. and yet we believe we have within, and all around us, evidences which, if properly considered and comprehended, may shed true light upon the subject, and give to us ideas and faith more reasonable and tangible than any heretofore contemplated. _the creation._ let us now make some investigations of the evidences given us in the bible in regard to creation. no one ever has, no finite mind ever can fully comprehend the creative power of the almighty; nor can we form an idea of the time, in the remote past, when creation, "by the word of his power" commenced. we learn from bible history, that "in the beginning god created the heavens and the earth." now as to the time when that "beginning" was, we can form no positive idea. it is as reasonable to suppose it to have been untold millions of years ago, as at any later period. so far as this earth on which we dwell is concerned, it is but as an _atom_ when compared to the productions of his creative power; and of the time when this atom was created, no one knoweth. geologists, tracing effects back to causes, agree on the fair probability that the earth--this globe and its solid elements--have been in process of change and formation, many thousands, and possibly millions, of years. these students understand, in a great measure, the laws which govern and control such formation in nature, and have data for their conclusions. as for the time when god created man to dwell on this earth, we need not now stop to investigate. but, continuing this history, we read: "and the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the great deep. and the spirit of god moved upon the face of the waters; and god said, let there be light; and there was light." thus we see that the _spirit_ of god was then, as it ever has been, and still is, the _source_ of light. now, to our finite comprehension, the sun is the source of light and heat; or, rather that which we denominate the sun is a vast body or volume of intense heat, and heat--or that which we denominates _fire_--is, to us, the source of light. that god's spirit is fire, and light, we shall be able to show in our further contemplation of the subject the psalmist tells us that: "by the word of the lord were the heavens made, and all the hosts of them by the breath of his mouth." job tells us that: "a flame goeth out of his mouth and god by his spirit garnished the heavens." now let us bear these facts in mind: that the psalmist speaks of a plurality of heavens made by the word and breath of god, while job also tells us of a plurality of heavens, and that "a flame goeth out of his mouth," and "god by his spirit garnished the heavens." we know that god is the great first cause, and the creator of all things that exist. he created the heavens and the earth, suns, moons, planets, and stars, and all pertaining thereunto; as, also, the firmament of the heavens, in which all are placed; and while all come forth at his command, or by his word, yet we are plainly told, that his breath, or spirit, was the active agency in this mighty creation. when we come to investigate the nature of this active agency--spirit--we find that it is _fire_, a principle, or element which pervades all nature; one which is indestructible--can never be destroyed--and yet an element of destruction; indeed, one of seeming annihilation. now, seeing that the element of fire pervades all things, so also are we told, that god's spirit is everywhere. the sun--the source of light and heat. first, acknowledging god--the supreme, infinite, and eternal one--as the great first cause, and author of all things created, we all know that the sun is the mainspring of animated nature. without its genial rays, the present system of earth's government could not endure, and life itself would soon disappear from our globe. it is the source of light and heat--the two great stimulants of vital force. now, so far as we can comprehend, the _sun_ is the immediate or direct source of light and heat--or fire--hence, the source of animated existence of all pertaining to this earth; and so, also, as we believe, to all the other planets, or worlds belonging to our solar system, or within the sun's vast domain. that source is fixed and permanent, and is ever the same; neither increasing nor diminishing, although constantly dispensing its influence to all around it. its source is eternal, and it is, evidently, an attribute of jehovah, and the time of its past existence we cannot comprehend, nor can we believe otherwise than that it will continue to exist through all eternity. we believe it one of god's eternal lamps, placed by his own omnipotent power to light up the sphere which he has appointed unto it, and to give its warmth and animation to this, and all other worlds belonging to its domain. cast your eye upward at noon-day, when no clouds intervene, and behold that brilliant orb, whose light pales that of all else, and seems to make all dark in illimitable space beyond its own empire. look at it but for one second of time only, for a steady gaze at that bright flame for one minute alone, is fatal to the sight of the eyes. there _is_ "a dimning veil" to mortal vision, which hides the glories of that _inner world_ from our sight; even those resplendent glories which, while yet in the body, we can contemplate only by the eye of faith. _wondrous works of god._ we now propose to devote a short time to the contemplation of some of the wonderful works of the creator, as we see them displayed in the firmament, and standing out in illimitable space, and, with the aids afforded us by that most exact of all sciences--astronomy--we hope to unveil mysteries, long since revealed by the revelations of god; yet, hitherto, not fully comprehended. these seeming mysteries, we shall endeavor to assist you to analyze by the light of god's own revelations. in order to our purpose, we shall avail ourselves of the writings of some of the most scientific, and eminent astronomers the world has ever known, even from the early days of anaximander and pythagoras, down to the times of copernicus and galileo, when feeble rays of light seemed to break in upon the intellect and mind of man, and from thence, the flood-lights which have been thrown in upon us by the herschels,--the leading stars of the empire of this science,--and calling to our aid la lande, maury, guillemin, lardner, darwin, owen and olmsted, and many others equally known to fame. yet in our present effort, we shall rely mainly upon that master mind in compilation, dr. child, of england, who has grouped together the leading facts of discoveries, in order to incite the mind to the contemplation of the wonderful works of the creator, that all intelligences of the world may be induced to join in with the three hebrew children, in "praising and magnifying the name of the lord." we find, upon examination of the works of various leading authors, that his statements are as nearly correct as any compilation well could be, while, with a mind seemingly inspired for the work, his delineations are so graphic, sublime and beautiful, we shall take data, and quote freely from his writings, especially wherein he dwells upon the "heavens," "sun," "moon" and "stars," adding as we pass along, such reflections crowding upon our mind as we deem appropriate; and we think that in the contemplation of the subject now before us, that ere we have finished this feature of it, all will be ready to exclaim with the psalmist, truly, "the heavens declare the glory of god, and the firmament sheweth his handy work." dr. child says, "among all the sights the eye can look upon, nothing is comparable to the heavens for the sentiment with which they charm the mind. the language they speak comes to us from remote mysterious worlds; but, though it may be imperfectly understood, it is at least universally felt. the great and the small--the civilized man and the savage, the philosopher, the divine, and the illiterate or humble citizen--all feel their influence, and are from time to time irresistibly drawn toward them by mingled emotions of admiration, gratitude and awe, such as none of the other features of nature can excite in an equal degree. "so strongly, however, is the idea of the 'incomprehensible' associated by many with the mysteries of the firmament, that they are habitually prone to regard the teachings of astronomers as little else than scientific guess-work. nevertheless, the best intellects in all countries assure us, and demonstrate before our eyes, that, within certain limits, astronomy is the most exact and perfect of sciences, and that, even when it deals with distances and magnitudes, which are practically inconceivable, its conclusions, though often claiming to be approximative only, have yet no affinity whatever with guess-work. let such sceptics think of the certainty with which sidereal events are predicted beforehand. let them reflect on the evidence of the most exact knowledge of the heavenly bodies involved in the calculation of eclipses, in fixing the very moment when the moon's dark outline shall begin to creep over the sun's bright disk; marking its progress to the highest maximum, and its waning--giving the moment when the last visible shadow will disappear--predicting the instant when a planet's light shall be extinguished behind our satellite. and yet even more wonderful, the tracking of a comet's wanderings, millions of miles beyond the far-off regions of uranus, the foretelling the time of its return after long years of absence! do not these, and a thousand other equally wonderful feats, attest both the soundness of the principles on which the astronomer works, and the reasonableness of receiving his assurances with confidence and trust, even though it may be impossible for more than a few gifted minds to follow the calculations on which they are based?" examine the nautical almanac, published by the british government, a chart found on every sea-going vessel. on the trackless ocean it is the mariner's guide, his trusted friend and counsellor. he may embark upon a long voyage over the trackless ocean, to be absent for years, yet through all this time, and in any part of the world he has his truthful friend to consult, who will warn him of dangers, and direct his ship in safety in every changeful clime. he left his native land years ago, yet now far out amid ocean's waves, in a different hemisphere, he consults this little chart of astronomers. he knows in any and every latitude the time of eclipses of the sun and moon, and of jupiter's satellites, their sidereal positions, distances, etc. it seems charged with messages from the skies for his guidance and safety. "when we consider the acquisition of such rare and precious knowledge--this mapping out beforehand, almost to a hair's-breadth, the exact order and track in which the heavenly bodies will run their course through space, and the precise relative position they will occupy at any given moment, when they can be seen in any part of the world--is not this convincing evidence of the correctness and truthfulness of the science of astronomy?" but we have on record a more startling demonstration of its correctness--we say "startling" because of its magnitude and importance, and because when we come to examine suns, planets, and worlds, through the lights of this science, when we contemplate their distances, magnitudes, and numbers, we shall be startled by their immensity, and exclaim: "how wonderful are thy works, o lord of hosts!" "the year will ever be memorable for having witnessed one of the most striking illustrations of the truth of astronomy. few can have forgotten the astonishment with which the discovery of the planet neptune was then received, or the fact that it was due _not_ to a lucky or accidental pointing of the telescope toward a particular quarter of the heavens, but to positive calculations worked out in the closet; thus proving that before the planet was seen by the eye, it had already been grasped by the mind. the theory of its finding was a triumph of human intellect. the distant uranus--a planet hitherto orderly and correct--begins to show unusual movements in its orbit. it is, somehow, not exactly in the spot where, according to the best calculations, it ought to have been, and the whole astronomical world is thrown into perplexity. two mathematicians, as yet but little known to fame, living far apart in different countries, and acting independently of each other, concentrate the force of their penetrating intellects to find out the cause. the most obvious way of accounting for the event, was to have inferred that some error in previous computations had occurred; and in a matter so difficult, so abstruse, and so far off, what could have been more probable or more pardonable? but these astronomers knew that the laws of gravity were fixed and sure, and that figures truly based on them could not deceive. by profound calculations, each arrives at the conclusion that nothing can account for the "perturbation" except the disturbing influence of some hitherto unknown mass of matter, exerting its attraction in a certain quarter of the heavens. so implicit, so undoubting is the faith of the french astronomer leverrier, in the truth of his deductions, that he requests a brother astronomer in berlin, prussia, to look out for this mass at a special point in space, on a particular night; and there, sure enough, the disturber immediately discloses himself, and soon shows his title to be admitted into the steady and orderly rank of his fellow-planets. the coincidence of the two astronomers--leverrier, of france, and adams, of england, arriving at this discovery through scientific calculations, based upon knowledge derived from physical observation, precludes every idea of guess-work, while such was the agreement between their final deductions, that the point of the heavens fixed upon by both as the spot where the disturber lay, was almost identical." "such a discovery" says arago, "is one of the most brilliant manifestations of the exactitude of the system of modern astronomy." child continues: "astronomy is without question, the grandest of sciences. it deals with masses, distances, and velocities, which in their immensity belong specially to itself alone, and of which the mere conception transcends the utmost stretch of our finite faculties. in no other branch of science is the limited grasp of our intellect more forcibly brought home to us, yet, though baffled in the effort to rise to the level of its requirements, our strivings are by no means profitless. is it not truly a precious privilege to be able to trace, imperfect though it may be, the hand of the almighty architect in these, his grandest works, and to obtain by this means a broader consciousness of his omnipotence? "could each one be privileged to look through herschel's telescope on a clear night, and visibly behold the wonders of the heavens, our faith in the realities of astronomy would pass with a sudden bound from theory into practice; planets and stars would become henceforth distinct and solid existences in our minds, our doubts vanish, and our belief settle into conviction. we should behold the mysterious moon of our childhood, mapped into brilliant mountain-peaks, and dark precipices, and softly lighted plains; we should see jupiter shining like another fair luna, with attendant satellites moving round him in their well-known paths; or turn with admiration to saturn encircled by his famous ring, with outlines as distinct as if that glorious creation lay but a few miles distant. perhaps we may behold the beauteous venus shining with resplendent circular disk, or curiously passing through her many phases in mimic rivalry of the moon. or, leaving these near neighbors far behind, we may penetrate more deeply into space, and mark how the bright flashing stars are reduced to a small, round, unmagnifiable point. such a privilege would give us a more realizing sense of the power of the great creator." _the discovery of the motion of the earth and heavenly bodies_. the science of astronomy is one of the oldest that has occupied the human mind. that the belief in astrology was its forerunner, we cannot doubt. professor olmsted tells us, that, "at a period of very remote antiquity, astronomy was cultivated in china, india, chaldea, and egypt." three several schools were established, ranging from three to six hundred years before the christian era. anaximander, in the school of miletus, taught the sublime doctrine that the planets are inhabited, and that the stars are suns of other systems. pythagoras was the founder of the celebrated school of crotona, upon the south-eastern coast of italy, some five hundred years before the christian era. he held that the sun was the centre of the solar system, around which all the planets revolve, and that the stars are so many suns, each the centre of a system like our own. he also held that the earth revolves daily on its axis, and yearly around the sun. although many of his opinions were founded in mere conjecture, and were erroneous, yet we see that some important ones were founded on truth. he also held that the planets were inhabited, that the earth and planets were ever revolving in regular order, "keeping up a loud and grand celestial concert, inaudible to man, but, as the 'music of the spheres,' audible to the gods." but the mind of man was not then prepared to grasp the feeble rays of light, and add thereto, by the power of expanding intellect. although many succeeded pythagoras, whose scientific attainments proved a blessing to the world, and whose names will go down to all succeeding generations, as the learned, the good, and the great of their time; yet prejudice and superstition again prevailed, and the true lights of this science were lost sight of, and, for near two thousand years, ages of darkness prevailed, until copernicus appeared about the fifteenth century of the christian era. he again revived the idea advanced by pythagoras, that the earth and planets moved regularly in their orbits, and that the sun was the centre of the solar system. yet with him, as with the former, it was little more than mere conjecture. we quote again prof. olmsted, in regard to these earlier astronomers, who were struggling after light, and truth, in this grandest of sciences: "although, therefore, pythagoras fathomed the profound doctrine, that the sun is the centre around which the earth and all the planets revolve; yet we have no evidence that he ever solved the irregular motions of the planets, in conformity with his hypothesis, although the explanation of the diurnal revolution of the heavens, by that hypothesis, involved no difficulty." again he says, "ignorant as copernicus was of the principle of gravitation, and of most of the laws of motion, he could go but little way in following out the consequences of his own hypothesis; and all that can be claimed for him is, that he solved, by means of it, most of the common phenomena of the celestial motions. he was indeed upon the road to truth, and advanced some way in its sure path; but he was able to adduce but few independent proofs, to show that it was truth. it was only near the close of his life that he published his system to the world, and that only at the urgent request of friends; anticipating, perhaps, the opposition of a bigoted priesthood, whose fury was afterwards poured upon the head of galileo, for maintaining the same doctrines." the bigotry and superstition of the priesthood of the church of rome again crushed out the lights of this science, and forbade further investigations, and all was resolved back again into the doctrine first taught by eudoxus, who lived more than three hundred years before christ. this doctrine was the system of _crystalline spheres_; "the earth the centre of the world, and all heavenly bodies set like gems in hollow, solid orbs, composed of crystal so transparent, that no anterior orb could obstruct in the least, the view of any of the orbs lying behind it," that the heavens revolved or rolled round from east to west, performing the circuit every twenty-four hours, carrying along the sun, planets, orbs, &c., and that "above the whole were spread the _grand empyrean_, or 'third heavens,' the abode of perpetual serenity." "to account for the planetary motions, it was supposed that the planetary bodies, as also the stars, and sun, each had a motion of its own from east to west, while all partook of the common diurnal motion of the starry sphere." "aristotle taught that these motions were effected by a tutelary genius of each planet, residing in it, and directing its motions, even as the mind of man directs his own movements." thus, from the time of copernicus, until galileo appeared in the sixteenth century, the lights of this science were again extinguished by the superstition, bigotry, and intolerance of the priesthood, who would make no proper advance with intellect beyond the established dogmas of the church; even to ascertain truths which god himself had made plainly perceptible in his wondrous works. galileo, born in pisa, italy, in the year , evinced in early life, a fondness for the study of philosophy, and the higher order of sciences, and proved himself also a genius in mechanical inventions. fortune favored him in his day, and, enjoying all the greater advantages of the best schools of his time, he studied well all the old masters, who had preceded him, and became perfectly familiar with every theory of philosophy and astronomy then known, and prepared himself for an advance in the sciences. he invented the first telescope, with which to survey the heavenly bodies, and the result of his experiments proved conclusively the correctness of the theory advanced by the conjectures of copernicus. he pursued his investigations for years, and established the truth, in his own mind, of the constant movements of the earth and planets, each revolving in its own orbit, with the sun as the common centre of all; of the truth of which he could never more entertain a single doubt. but the laws which governed and controlled their movements--the power and force of attraction and gravitation--he could not yet fully comprehend. this great work of discovery was left for sir isaac newton. knowing the bigotry and intolerance of the ruling powers of rome, he, galileo, resorted to subterfuge in order to obtain permission to publish his opinions to the world. yet, when published, these drew down upon his head the stern persecution of the pope and cardinals, and also opposition and accusations from all other philosophers and astronomers of his time. at length, hearing the distant muttering "thunders of the vatican," he resorted to rome, to reason with the powers that then held universal sway. but, like all other lights of reason--from time immemorial to the present hour--the fiat of the romish church would ever obscure, or crush out light, chain down the intellect, become the arbiter of the consciences of men, and permit no advance, save as she might lead; and even then binding all to her dogmas, and decrees, by the power of force, and threatenings of her inquisitions. she has ever stood ready, where she had the power, to crush with her iron heel every one who dared to oppose, or sought to lead the mind of man to light and liberty. and it has been the force of circumstances alone, that has, in part, broken this chain of bondage, emancipated the mind, given freedom to thought, and permitted the advance of human intellect. galileo seemed, indeed, as nature's philosopher of his time. "he interrogated the laws of nature by experiments and observations, and we have to ascribe to him the first true investigation of the laws of terrestrial gravity." had he stood firm and maintained the truths which god had permitted him to comprehend, the lights of a true science would then have shone forth, and it is possible that our knowledge to-day would be far in advance of what it is. we judge thus, because of the rapid advance made during the last century, especially since dr. william herschel first pointed his telescope toward the heavens. but on galileo's arrival at rome, neither his venerable age, his enlightened mind, his acknowledged comprehensive and brilliant intellect, nor even his honorable and eloquent appeals for a full and scientific investigation as to the correctness of his theory, could gain a generous response. the powers that ruled had not made the advance, and it was dangerous to them to permit any one outside to do so. hence, all new doctrines were held as heretical, and must be crushed at once. he was placed in confinement, charged with treason and conspiracy against the church; his views heretical, such as demanded the most rigorous punishment;--even after he should renounce them before the cardinals sitting as inquisitors in his case. the charges against him were those of his published views, which he freely acknowledged, and, while he knew them to be _truths_, yet so controlling was the influence of his belief in the dogmas of that church--even as it is with all its adherents--that he bowed to its fiat, and, on bended knees laid his hand upon the holy gospels, and swore by them and the roman catholic church, before god, and the inquisition of cardinals, that the _truths he had published_ were _false_, abjuring, cursing, and detesting them as heresies; and swore a life allegiance to the church, and received submissively, his sentence to a dungeon in the inquisition for life. says prof. olmsted, "we cannot approve of his employing artifice in the promulgation of truth; and we are compelled to lament that his lofty spirit bowed in the final conflict. how far, therefore, he sinks below the dignity of a christian martyr!" says dr. brewster, "at the age of seventy, on his bended knees, and with his right hand resting on the holy evangelists, did this patriarch of science avow his present and past belief in the romish church; abandon as false and heretical the doctrine of the earth's motion, and of the sun's immobility, and pledge himself to denounce to the inquisition, any other person who was even suspected of like heresy. he abjured, cursed, and detested, those eternal and immutable truths which the almighty had permitted him to be the first to establish. had galileo but added the courage of a martyr, to the wisdom of the sage; had he carried the glance of his indignant eye round the circle of his judges; had he lifted his hands to heaven, and called the living god to witness the truth and immutability of his opinions; the bigotry of his enemies would have been disarmed, and science would have enjoyed a memorable triumph." the romish church. it is impossible for the mind to contemplate the scene presented to the world, by the history of that trial and unjust condemnation, without a shudder, if not a premonition of what may yet be in the future. religious bigotry is more intolerant than any other power of dominion, and where the mind and conscience is trammelled, and brought under the subjection of superior intellect, the masses become almost as menials, ready to do their masters' bidding. we hold to a system of religion, one which leaves the mind untrammelled, and permits free intercourse with the spirit of god; that which casts aside all that might obstruct or intervene, and which enables the soul to commune with its maker and redeemer; that which enables each "to know for himself and not another." this is the protestant faith and doctrine, contra-distinguished from the roman catholic faith, whose popes, bishops, and priests, become, as it were, the arbiters of the minds and consciences of their adherents; stand between them and their maker, and trifle with the souls of men, as implements and matters of commerce. it is time that the days of superstition were ended. it is fast losing ground in the old world, where, for long centuries past, it has held the masses in ignorance. but, of late years, it has been rapidly gaining ground on our own continent, and its progress of late has been fearful, and may well alarm the protestants of our own country. we hold that catholicism is little else than a complete system of superstition. the minds of the masses of its votaries are trained and educated to it from childhood. hence, there is no possibility of ever eradicating it from the minds of those thus educated. the priests, cardinals, and pope, can, at any moment, trammel free thought by their own edicts, and bring their subjects to their own terms. their subjects are taught to believe them to possess superior power; to be able to stand between them and heaven, or hell, to lock, or unlock at pleasure; and so ingenious is their system of religion taught, that it ensnares the mind and holds it ever subservient. we have seen with what submission that mighty man of learning and towering intellect, galileo, bowed to this imperial power. by arduous study, labor and experiments, he had gained a knowledge of his creators wonderful works, far transcending all that was known of it by the ruling powers of rome. he knew this knowledge was truth, as immutable as god himself, yet, if _cursed_ by the pope of rome, he, doubtless, believed this curse would place him in perdition, and no one would pray his soul out of purgatory. therefore, he perjured himself (for when he had sworn it false, he still believed it true) in order to reconcile the rulers, and secure their intercession. this is only an isolated case out of, doubtless, thousands of others, where mind and conscience is brought fully under their subjection. rome to-day, and the romish church, is the same in spirit and ambition of universal sway, as in the days of galileo. give her but the power, and rather than lose it again, she would bind humanity in chains of perpetual ignorance as to the source and lights of eternal truth, save that which she alone might graciously promulgate; and this to a favored few, whose trainings were such that their consciences were securely chained to her car, more ponderous and destructive, than that of juggernaut. some, perhaps, are ready to say we have borne down too severely upon the roman catholics, that they, too, are now more enlightened, and more liberal in their views than formerly, that they have founded schools and institutions of learning, equal--perhaps superior, to those of any other denomination in our country. grant all this; but why, and for what purpose? _answer._ the force of circumstances; the enlightenment of the age has compelled them to move forward. they are ever wily and on the alert; the philosophy of science was marching onward; the millions could no longer be held in the old beaten track of ignorance to pander to the few, and rome, comprehending all this, foresees her impending downfall, unless she, too, steps forward with her _gilded robe_. she therefore, takes a new tack, with her ponderous ship, upon the sea of mind. she has in store her mines of wealth, gathered daily from the poor sons and daughters of toil, some of whom almost starve themselves in order to pay penance to the priests for sins laid to their charge, committed--if sins they be, in ignorance. these priests--some of whom are besotted--still stand forth as the arbiters of the consciences of their deluded followers; pretend to bar the gates of heaven; admitting none, save for the _shillings_ or the _pounds_, showing plainly that the continued organization of this church, in this enlightened age, is but the force of early education. yes, they have erected their school and college edifices, and also their _convents_ and _monasteries_. they have ample material for efficient teachers: but mark you, these have all been well trained from infancy in the "_lap of the church_." they are obedient, efficient and orderly, and, at proper times, are ready to make advantageous displays. they take charge of all the youth of _their_ flock, and, alas, by their seductive insinuations, are now making rapid progress against protestantism in our own country. they are educating tens of thousands of protestant youth. do they ever exhibit to, or instruct them in your protestant bible? no, never! but on the other hand; are they not constantly trying to instruct, charm, and fascinate them with their own system of religious worship? they are partial to your children--especially to your _daughters_, who will, in time, be among the mothers of the succeeding generation, and who, of course, will train up their offspring in the same faith. just let them secure a majority of mothers as firm believers in the romish faith, and they will bid defiance to all opposing influences. how long since one of their archbishops said, in a public address, in one of our leading cities: _let us once control the children, the youth of the land, and we can soon control the nation_; or words of this import? see their indefatigable exertions; their complete system of organization; their primary schools, their seminaries, academies, colleges, convents, and monasteries, already established, and to which they are adding, annually, many more, while protestants seem to be slumbering over the kindling fires of a volcano, which may in time break forth in all its destructive fury, as it oft-times has during past centuries. is it not high time that protestants of our own country, were waking up in regard to their present, and eternal interests? let a preponderance of power be centered in any one man, and you may then bid a final adieu to a republican form of government, and must, perhaps, bow to infamous and oppressive "decrees" emanating from an iron will. in our own country, this cannot yet be, unless the usurper is backed by a soldiery, who are hired, and paid, out of a controlled treasury. this could not long maintain, in this, or any country, where there is freedom of mind and thought, and where conscience remains untrammelled. but let the masses be thus controlled by one superior intellect, and feel that their eternal interests are subject to his will, and they will be ever ready to do his bidding. the popes of rome have--successively--held this power over a portion of europe, even as the history of the dark days of the "inquisitions" and martyrdoms attest. thus it has been, and thus we believe it ever will be, where roman catholics gain universal sway: for we believe there is scarcely a member of that organization living to-day, who would not--at the pope's command--make every desired sacrifice; not only of worldly goods and interests, but even of life itself--if required. we do not condemn--collectively, nor individually, the masses, and members of that faith. far be this from us. we believe that a very large majority of them are honest, and truly devotional. no other class of people on the globe have been more self-sacrificing than many of them, in performing acts of kindness, charity and mercy, and these offices have been performed in a true spirit of christian benevolence. would that all other professed christian organizations would equal them in this respect. all should render relief, when within their power, to suffering humanity. we believe that all such efforts upon the part of any one, will merit, and obtain, individual reward. what we condemn is the spirit of the ruling powers of the romish church; its bigotry, and intolerance; and because they--by educating into their system of religion--trammel the mind, and control the conscience, rendering them subservient to the dictation and will of the rulers. the pope, bishops, and priests, claim to be the mediums through which their adherents are saved, as, also we believe mediums, whose "curses" pronounced against any, will consign the soul to perdition, while they chain the mind to superstition. the bible teaches that christ is our only mediator, that all may come to god through faith in his son; every soul is held alike responsible, and is alike accountable to its creator. that life and salvation are freely offered alike to all, the requirement being, to forsake the ways of sin, and through faith in jesus christ, "return unto the lord who will have mercy, and to our god who will abundantly pardon." it will be perceived that our principal objections to that sect are their superstitions, bigotry, arrogance and intolerance; the chaining down the mind, and controlling the conscience, and using all for temporal sway. the antecedents of this power are sufficient to warn all protestants against its encroachments, and stimulate them to say, "thus far shalt thou go and no farther," and in order to this, let every protestant denomination see to the educating of their own children. "but," say some of our protestant mothers, "they have the best schools, and i want my daughters to be well educated, and accomplished; and i do not fear their making catholics of them." so, likewise, have said thousands of others, and yet, trying the experiment, they have been mistaken. their daughters have returned home fascinated with show and tinsel, and firm adherents to that doctrine, which, when educated into the mind, can never thence be eradicated. few are aware of the rapid advance the catholics are making against protestantism, at the present time. it is safe to say, that not less than from fifteen to twenty thousand daughters, belonging to protestant families, are baptized into that church annually, in the united states. on the other hand, few, if any, catholics ever become protestants; and nine out of every ten who do, will--if sick and fearing the approach of death, send for catholic priests; make confession, and implore their intercession, to rescue their souls from purgatory, where they feel sure of going for this great sin of apostasy. now we ask, how long will it take, with so large and ever increasing accessions of our protestant daughters, for that organization to gain the ascendancy in our country? their motto is _eternal vigilance_, while they wage eternal warfare _against the protestant faith, and christian religion_. the time was, when they held almost universal sway throughout a large portion of europe. the edicts of the pope, and roman catholic rulers, must be obeyed by _all_. curses, torture, imprisonment, and _death_--where they had the power--was the portion of all who disregarded their mandates. and then, as now, their hatred and persecutions were against those whom they termed "_heretical protestants_;" against your ancestors, and your religion. kings, and emperors, trembled on their thrones, and lent willing obedience, lest a "bull" should be issued against them from the "vatican" by the ruling pope. those were dark days for poor protestants; they had to worship god in _secret_, or in dens and caves. even only a few centuries ago, terror and darkness reigned; multiplied thousands were slaughtered, or dragged to the "stake" and consumed by fiery faggots; grey hairs, age or decrepitude, were no shields against their bigoted fury. the priests then, as now, controlled and directed the consciences of their followers. no compassion, could be shown--even to purity and innocence of defenceless females, or helpless children. those who could manage to escape and flee the country, did so, leaving all of worldly goods and possessions behind them _confiscated to the church_, and, as strangers, poor and friendless, sought, as best they could, asylums in other lands--some of whom, finally reached our own continent, here to enjoy liberty and the freedom of conscience. and we have to lament the fact that many of them, still tinctured with the rule and form of despotism, had, by the force of previous circumstances, imbibed notions akin to despotism and persecution, and were, for a time, while they had the power, disposed to use it as manifested by the puritans first landing on our shores. but they could not hold this power, because of lack of a complete organization of a hierarchal power. free thought and free speech, and the liberty of a free untrammeled _conscience_ prevailed, and soon swept away every vestige of religious intolerance and despotism, and our north american continent soon towered in sublime grandeur and beauty, and became the home and asylum of freedom for the oppressed of every clime. this land is the birthright of protestants, wherein those of every religious faith, catholics, and all others, have equal rights and privileges; but to maintain our liberties, we must educate into the minds of all, _personal liberty, and accountability_, and leave the conscience untrammeled so far as regards popes, priests, bishops, or ministers, _controlling man's future destiny_. all are held individually, and personally, accountable to god, and he hath sent his spirit to enlighten every one, and all who go direct to him in the spirit of humility, with faith and prayer, will obtain this light. in regard to the workings of the ruling powers of the roman catholic church less than two centuries ago, we give place to the following recent developments, written as a matter of history, by one who assisted in the investigations only a few weeks ago. this is from "catholic spain:" ghastly revelation! more relics of the spanish inquisition unearthed. the london _star_ has the following from madrid: a somewhat ghastly incident has caused considerable excitement here within the last few weeks. within a few hundred yards of the new plaza de dos mayo, inaugurated on the d of this month, there is a locality called the cruz del quemadero. it is a field some three hundred metres square, at the top of the calle aricha de san bernardo, near the hospital built by the ex-queen. through it a new road was lately opened, and as the ground was elevated, a cutting of considerable depth had to be dug. the workmen laid bare several peculiar looking horizontal strata, of irregular formation. one was one hundred and fifty feet in length, another fifty, another ten. the thickness varied from eight to eighty centimetres. in color the soil was black, the lower strata being much blacker than the superior ones. on examination lumps of charred wood were found, interspersed with ashes, evidently the remains of some huge fire. curiosity was soon excited, and further investigation demonstrated that in portions of these ugly-looking strata, the finger came upon small pieces of adipose matter, which yielded, like butter, to the touch. iron rings were grubbed up; human bones, a cranium, a long tuft of hair, having belonged to some female. all these were more or less charred. some of the iron was partially fused, and the texture of bone intermingled with sand was plainly discernible. _a gag turned up._ the question, what were these lugubrious records was answered at once. this field of the cruz del quemadero was the place where the "_inquisition_" disposed of some of its victims. here were the ghastly proofs of the horrors of which this place had been the scene, suddenly brought to light after the lapse of two centuries. on the th of may, , eighty-three heretics, including twenty hebrews, of whom five were women, were immolated on this very spot. the pile of wood was eighty feet in length by seven feet in height. a great concourse witnessed the _auto da fe_, and the horrible ceremonial completed, the people buried the remains of their victims under cart-loads of earth. these irregular geological strata are naught else but the silent testimony to the atrocities perpetrated on this in the name of religion and "catholic unity." out of one, your special correspondent hooked out with his finger, one entire bone of a human vertebral column, a portion of the tibia, a fragment of a shoulder-blade with a hole through it, and a bit of a rib, all bearing the marks of fire. upward of two cart-loads of remains of this sort have been carried away and decently buried. but these horrible strata! there they remain to tell their own tale, and instruct the present generation. on the th, a public meeting was convened, to be held at the quemadero, by the republican youth of madrid, to protest against priestly intolerance and to advocate _freedom of conscience_. that this discovery should have been made at a moment when the spanish clergy are striving their utmost to affirm the "unity of the roman catholic church," and are preaching in the churches of the metropolis against heresy, is a striking coincidence. the quemadero is so frequented by people in search of relics, and the explorations of these strata have been so extensive, that the authorities have barred the frontage off, and prohibited access. it is their intention to cut a square block, and there erect a monument. it is estimated by llorente, the great historian of the inquisition, that this atrocious tribunal has deprived spain of twelve millions of souls, including the jews, and moors, expelled from the country. thirty-one thousand and ninety-two perished by fire; , were first butchered and then burned; , died of torture. total, , . rome, ever intolerant in spirit, her persecutions have ever been the same through all ages, and in all countries, where she had the power of physical force. and thus, we believe, it would be to-day, on this continent, had she now the ascendency here. daily, in private, are you denounced by their priests, and minions, as heretics, while it would seem that no bishop, or priest, of that church, can ascend a rostrum in any of their cathedrals, without venting his spleen in outspoken or implied anathemas against all protestants. your daughters, under their special care in their schools and academies, are taught by the lady superiors, and sisters--by insinuations, if not directly--to believe theirs the only true church of god on earth. they are told by their confidential associates, that all who do not believe their faith, and in the roman catholic church, are held by them as "_heretics_" and, without this belief, need never hope to get to heaven. their governesses and teachers are ever wary, at first, of manifesting, or of exercising a direct influence, as regards controlling their religious belief, and will tell you, when you are about to place your daughters under their care, that they never teach the children of protestants the catholic religion, and yet, by their machinations, adopt the most efficient means of accomplishing it. they are sure to gain their _confidence_, and, very soon, with nine out of ten, they have more of this than even the mother enjoys. when they have gained this, confidence, their task becomes an easy one, and they know well how to perform it. on each recurring sabbath, all who are under their care must attend church, and they are accompanied by the superiors or teachers, to _their_ church, and there must sit and hear the religion and faith of their own parents denounced in the boldest terms. they are young and inexperienced; their minds susceptible of impressions, and these they receive and nurture with such effect, that long before the period arrives for them to leave the "institution," the faith and doctrines of the "church of rome" are firmly ingrafted in their minds; and they return home fully resolved to be (even if they have not already been) confirmed by the ordinance of baptism in that church. thus, their religious belief is educated into their minds, and no parental influence can ever change their views. "but," say some, "we send our children to their day-school, and hence, have them under home influence most of the time, and in this way there is no danger." let us examine and see whether there is, or is not. this mode of procedure is one of their organized systems for induction into your "good graces," so that they may eventually accomplish their ends. by this seeming open-heartedness, they allay all suspicion, and overcome any prejudices you may have cherished against their system of religion. they are all working for the future ascendency of their church. it must not be a matter of haste; the minds of protestants, who are yet in the ascendency, are not prepared to yield all in open conflict. hence, they must be patient; must work and wait. such a course, on their part, will disarm you of even suspicion, and cause you to think and speak well of them. this is always their first step. soon they will open the doors of their academies to admit your daughters, where they must remain during all the term--save a short "home visit" now and then, from which they must return on the day, and even the very hour stated by the "superior." have you ever noticed how _promptly_ your daughter has felt it her duty to obey this command, and return to that school? was it ever thus while she was attending a protestant school? think you she would be so mindful of _your_ request; so _anxious_ to leave pleasant society; unwilling to remain even an hour longer, and return to you and loved ones at home? nay, i tell you she would not do it under ordinary circumstances. see now who already holds the confidence of, and greater influence over your child! but see on yonder eminence a convent, a monastery, a nunnery, with its towering dome, and surrounded by massive walls. there, perhaps, is the place wherein your young and beautiful daughter will be immured to spend a weary life in _crucifying_ herself, and doing penance daily for imaginary sins she has never committed. thus, shutting herself up within that living tomb from all the outside world, and the happiness to be enjoyed in social life; she is as dead to you, and to the world, as though in her coffin, and in her grave; while the mind is as obscured as to the true lights and freedom of eternal truth and salvation, as though reason were dethroned, and she a maniac. this condition has been brought about by influences brought to bear upon her mind, commencing with your daughter's first entrance into their primary schools. confessions must soon be made to the priest, and, by his arts, he soon gains the ascendency over, and becomes the arbiter of the mind and conscience, and more especially is this influence exerted to this end, if the child is an _orphan_, and is the rightful inheritor of a valuable estate. for it would seem that to this end do the ruling powers of that sect devote time, energy, and influence--as witnessed by so many young females, whose parents left them fortunes, surrendering all to the church, and taking up a life abode in their convents. we do not condemn the poor deluded victims, nor believe they are held accountable in their delusion. they are honest in their devotions, yet perform these under false delusions. and when their spirits are released from this double prison-house, and return to god who gave them, they will then realize the freedom of the spirit of god, and how abundantly it giveth _light_, _life_ and _liberty_. and they will then also realize that their salvation is alone of god--through his boundless mercy; and not in anywise through intercession of the _priest_. we warn you to look well to passing events. history so oft repeats itself, that we can but believe there is danger. remember that when luther--the bold pioneer of protestantism--stood forth the champion of christianity, to his followers there came, from this same source, persecutions, martyrdoms, and massacres--even a reign of terror and darkness upon europe. but it proved a darkness that preceded a dawn; and although seemingly, at the time, dreadful in its consequences, yet none can deny but that the world is far better because of his efforts, than to have slumbered on in ignorance and in sin. from this same cause, our own continent may be destined to pass through a period like that of the "dark ages." if so, we trust in god it may come forth from it cleansed and purified; even as the current of the "lost river," that loses itself in the bosom of the "blue ridge," where, with a wild whirl, its turbid waters dash into the resounding cavern, but on the other side reappear, clear, placid, and beautiful. we say to all protestants, remember, that in placing your children under the care and influence of catholic teachers, and priests of that church, you lend your aid to obscuring their minds, and, in accordance to your own belief, shutting out from the eye of faith god's own eternal truth. they go to men as "intercessors" instead of to christ the lord--the son of god, who redeemed them with his own precious blood--who alone can intercede for them. and you also aid in re-establishing universal sway to the ever-intolerant romish church. the time may come when--driven from the old world--her central power will be on this continent: and, erecting here her gorgeous temples from the estates you leave to your children, the pope will ascend the throne of the american vatican--under and around which will be the dark dungeons of the inquisition--and thence thunder forth his "_bulls_" and _anathemas_ against the feeble followers of the blessed redeemer. that church is by far the most intolerant of all the professed christian organizations on this globe. their members are not even allowed the privilege of attending religious worship anywhere else than under their own instructions, and we opine, that should any one of them do so without "dispensation," they are held as having committed a sin, for which they must soon repair to the priest, make confession, do penance, receive absolution from him, and pay the price. behold the avarice of this "whore of babylon!" not content with tribute paid to her--perhaps weekly--through a long lifetime by her deluded followers, when nature yields to the fiat of the eternal one, mortality drops to moulder into dust, and the spirit returns to god who gave it, so completely are the minds of all her adherents under the control of the priests, that they can still lay _penance_ upon the dead, and demand and obtain _tribute_ from the living offspring. in closing our remarks upon this subject, we submit, for the reflection of all protestant ministers and members in every quarter of the world, the following, a portion of the pope's address to the english clergymen, who presented him an address signed by some eighteen hundred clergy, april th, . after examining the document closely, following other remarks, he said: "in the mean time, we must cultivate in a most special manner the _spirit of unity_, for in that lies our strength, and its want is the weakness of our adversaries. i have noticed the protestants are perpetually appealing to the primitive church; but when i turn to the early ages of history, what do i see? unity! all the more reasonable because existing undoubtedly in a different state of society from the present. the apostles were all of one accord, and one mind. * * * * protestants, on the other hand, are disunited; and our strength, in the difficulties we have to encounter, lies in _perfect union_. * * * it will be the old story over again. there will be waves and storms and threatenings on all sides, but we shall be brought safely through * * * while our _adversaries_ are struggling with the waves." let all ponder well these remarks. the philosophy that "in union there is strength" is a true one. and if all protestants cannot unite as one great body and family--because of minor non-essentials in matters of faith, forms and ceremonies--let all unite in the one great essential, that all their children, and orphan children of protestants, shall be educated in other than catholic schools. for, in these latter, we hold that the mind is chained to error and superstition, and the true lights of god's truth and plan of salvation are obscured. every parent and guardian will be held accountable in a coming day, should they neglect to "train up their children in the way they should go." * * * * * our readers will please pardon us for the digression we have made from the special subject we have under consideration. had we not been duly impressed with the importance and correctness of our views upon the subject of the freedom and liberty of mind and conscience, and of the personal accountability of _all_ to god alone, we should not have thus pursued the theme. we believe firmly in the good _offices_ of a teaching and advising ministry, but not in anywise where it _trammels the mind or becomes the arbiter of the conscience_. * * * * * returning to our subject, _viz._, the earlier discoveries of the science of astronomy. the intelligence of the world is indebted to sir isaac newton, who lived during the latter part of the sixteenth century, for the discovery of the laws of _universal gravitation_. his discovery, and philosophy, furnished the basis upon which all subsequent astronomers have worked. _attraction, gravitation, &c._ the power of attraction and force of gravitation are the laws which govern the universe of matter. "the discovery of this law," says prof. olmsted, "made us acquainted with the hidden forces that move the great machinery of the universe. it furnished the key which unlocks the inner temple of nature, and established the science of astronomy upon a sure and firm basis. thus we discover in nature a tendency of every portion of matter toward some other. this tendency is called gravitation. the larger the body, the more powerful the attraction; and this attraction is always toward the centre. hence, you may cast an object of weight into the air, and, when the impelling force you have given it ceases to force it upward, it falls in a direct line to the earth." so also may the chinaman, placed on the opposite side of the globe, cast one as he deems upward, which is forcing it in an opposite direction from where you sent yours; yet, when his impelling force is lost, his too falls back to the earth, each falling toward the other. this is gravitation, produced by the power of attraction. thus we now see this principle made plain to the simplest comprehension. _suns, stars, planets, &c._ we come, now, to the contemplation of that which is of far greater importance to us than all other planets, worlds, stars, and wonders in the siderial heavens. this is the sun, which warms and lights up our earth, and all the other planets within its sphere. says dr. child, "there are not a few in this world who habitually receive god's blessings so much as a matter of course, that they are scarcely conscious of any active feeling of gratitude in regard to them. the very regularity and profusion with which these blessings are showered on all alike, seem to have the effect of deadening the sense of individual obligation. a general admission of thankfulness may occasionally be made at church or in the closet, but there is a want of that abiding consciousness of it, with which we ought to be imbued, as well as that frequent pondering upon details which, by illustrating the dependence of every creature upon god, causes the heart to swell with grateful adoration. such thoughts never fail to improve our moral nature by bringing the truth home to us more and more that we are god's children. "it would be no easy task for a thankful mind to sum up all the blessings diffused over our planet by the sun. it is the mainspring of animated nature. without its genial rays the present system of earth's government could not endure, and life itself would soon disappear from the globe. to it we are indebted for light and warmth--the two stimulants of vital force--for our food and raiment; for our busy days and rest-bringing nights, for months and years, and happy alternations of seasons. its rays, in short, are intertwined with all our wants and comforts; they gladden the eye and cheer the heart. contemplating all these temporal blessings, the _psalmist_ exclaims: "'_i will praise the name of the lord with a song, and magnify it with thanksgiving._' "the sun is the central pivot of the solar system, and round it the earth and all the other planets keep whirling in elliptical orbits. its power and influence, its light, heat, and attraction, reach through a domain in space which it would require _six thousand millions of miles_ to span. with the greater part of this wide field, astronomers are familiar, and it may be truly said that scarcely a man knows the roads of his own parish or neighborhood, or a citizen the streets of his own city or village, with more exactness than they do the highways of the skies. not only can they map out to a nicety the paths of the planets careering through it like islands floating through a sea of ether, but they can look backward and tell the exact spot where each globe was at any moment of the remote past, or forward, and point to the place where each will be found at any given moment of the remote future. "what is the mighty power which maintains such order in the heavens, which steadies the planets in their orbits, and traces out for them a route so wisely planned as to avoid all chances of collision? two antagonistic forces--gravitation and attraction, combined with a centrifugal impulse--accomplish the wonderful task. to these faithful servants, god commits the safety of the universe, nor can anything disturb or derange the order of this machinery, save the word which created it. "the sun was placed in the centre, and became the pivot of the whole system, tying to itself the different planets by the cord of its superior attraction. in accordance with the law we have mentioned, this loadstone power of the sun is the inevitable result of its superior mass, as it is computed to be six hundred times greater in magnitude than this earth and all the planets put together. but behold the wisdom and wondrous power of the great architect, in creating these vast worlds, and placing each in its proper position in space; where each revolves within its own orbit--some with the velocity of even one hundred thousand miles an hour--yet maintaining toward each other that _centrifugal_ force which prevents their being drawn by the attractive power of that vast globe _within_ the sun, into certain destruction, by its surrounding fires. "astronomers inform us there are innumerable suns, each of which is supposed to control a separate, or its own system of planets; giving light and heat thereto, even as our sun does to this earth, and its own system of planets. their distances from the sun that lights up our heavens are immeasureable--far transcending our conceptions, or even our imagination--in illimitable space. they also inform us that the distance from this earth, to the nearest one of these distant stars, or suns, is about _twenty billions of miles_." so vast is the distance here stated, that the mind cannot grasp or comprehend it. we can more nearly approximate by the measurement of light; a ray of which darting from its surface and travelling at the speed of , miles a second, would not reach our eye under three years and eight months. "such then," says sir john herschel, "is the length of the sounding-line with which we first touch bottom in the attempt to fathom the great abyss of the sidereal heavens." says olmsted, "until recently, astronomers gave almost exclusive attention to observations, and the study of the solar system. but dr. william herschel turned his attention to the sidereal heavens, and opened up new and wonderful fields of discovery, as well as of speculation. his son, sir john herschel, and sir james south, of england, have followed the old master, with grasping minds and brilliant intellects, until more has been accomplished by them, and others of the present day, than all preceding astronomers had even ventured to conjecture," and that their deductions are founded mainly on facts, no intelligent mind will--on investigation--have reason to doubt. but having thrown anchor and "touched bottom" in the wide expanse of the unlimited sphere of the sidereal heavens, "let us," says dr. child, "take another flight. here next, within the domain of sirius, we find ourselves six times as far distant as when at centauri, first mentioned"--say one hundred and twenty billions of miles--"from which it would require _twenty-two years_ for a ray of light travelling at the rate of , miles a second to reach our earth." but, far distant, yonder, we behold the beauteous _capella_, in all its splendor and glory, throwing its effulgent rays across the wide expanse of universe, and yet these rays of light, travelling at the same mentioned rate-- , miles each passing second of time--require about _seventy years_ in transit, before the inhabitants of our earth catch a glimpse of their brilliancy and beauty. and yet now the mind has only entered the borders of '_the starry regions_'--far beyond, in illimitable space, lie the 'hosts of the stars;' their vast distances cannot be computed even by light itself." it is wonderful to contemplate the probability that of some of the more distant stars discovered, the rays of light which have found rest in the eye of the astronomer, through the aid of the telescope, may have left their native sun thousands of years ago, and travelled at the rate of , miles a second ever since. "a certain cluster of stars was estimated by sir william herschel to be times the distance of a star of the first magnitude--therefore at least times nineteen billions of miles!" but, observes guillemin, if this cluster was removed to five times its actual distance, that is to say , times the distance of sirius, the large herschelian telescope of feet focus would still show it, _but only as an irresolvable nebula_. it is, then, extremely probable that, among the many nebulæ indecomposable into stars, beyond the milky way, in the depths of the heavens, many are as distant as that of which we speak. _doubtless many are more so._ now to reach us, light-rays must have left stars situated at such a distance more than , years ago!" says child, "when we have touched the verge of this uttermost range, infinity, boundless as ever, still lies beyond. the idea of god extinguishes in our mind every suspicion that there can be any limit to space, magnitude, or power, in relation to his works. the mighty universe we have been considering is but the stepping-stone to what is farther on; and although our imagination fails to grasp it, our reason assures us it must be so. there is no such thing as taking from or adding to _the illimitable_. "with what just propriety of thought has light been called the 'voice' of the stars. * * * in the 'speechless' voice of light the stars proclaim to us from the depths of space, the existence of innumerable other worlds which, like our own, share the creator's care. * * * with mute argument stars prove to us that, in those far-off regions, gravitation--the power that brings the apple to the ground--still reigns supreme, and with suggestive whispers of probability, they persuade us that, like our own sun, they bathe attendant worlds in floods of light; deck them in colors of beauty, and shower countless blessings on the life of myriads of beings. "having glanced at the distances and magnitudes of some of the stars, or suns, let us pause for a moment to consider their number, and the vast space they must necessarily occupy in the domain of creation. by the most moderate estimate the number of stars that can be counted in the firmament by telescopic aid, does not fall short of _one hundred millions_. there is no doubt that most of those stars are _suns_, dispensing light and heat to earths and planets like our own; and, indeed, no bodies shining by reflected light would be visible at such enormous distances. "from the superior magnitude of those that have been measured--as compared to our sun--it may be assumed that the average diameter of their solar systems must exceed our own; but taking them as nearly equal, it would give a breadth of at least _six thousand millions of miles_ as the field of space occupied by each, while every star, or sun-system, is probably begirt with a gulf or void like that encircling our own, in which the antagonistic forces of attraction are lost, so as not to disturb each other. hence, the distance from each of those suns to its nearest neighbor is probably not less than that which intervenes between our sun and the nearest star, which cannot be less than about _twenty_ billions of miles. how inconceivably vast, therefore, must be the space required to give room for so many and such stupendous solar systems. the mind absolutely reels under the load of conceptions so mighty. _yet infinity still lies beyond_." "for what purpose," says sir john herschel, "are we to suppose such magnificent bodies scattered through the abyss of space? surely not to illume our nights, which an additional moon of the thousandth part of the size of our own would do much better; not to sparkle as a pageant, void of meaning and reality, and to bewilder us among vain conjectures. he must have studied astronomy to little purpose, who can suppose man to be the only object of his creator's care, or who does not see, in the vast and wonderful apparatus around us, provisions for other races of animated beings." the psalmist says: "whoso is wise will ponder these things, and they shall understand the loving-kindness of the lord." let us here suggest the reasonable hypothesis, that those distant suns, standing far out in the sidereal regions of illimitable space--created, and placed there by the "word" of the almighty architect--may have been shining thus for untold billions of years; and so, also, the sun which shines upon and lights up and warms this earth, and the other planets within its domain; and will thus remain forever, as god's own lamps of eternal light, to all created intelligences. hear the psalmist break forth again, "thy testimonies are wonderful. who alone doeth great wonders. the heavens declare the glory of god, and the firmament sheweth his handy works. such knowledge is too wonderful for me." job tells us, "he alone spreadeth out the heavens, and treadeth upon the waves of the sea, and doeth wonders without number." _fixed stars_--held by astronomers to be suns--are known from the planetary stars by their perpetual "twinkling," and by their being, apparently, always in the same position relative to each other. now, while the number of stars to be seen in the heavens by the naked eye on a clear night does not exceed about , in each,--the northern and southern hemispheres,--yet herschel, olmsted, and other examiners tell us that by the aid of the telescope, many millions stand out in brilliant array--so vast their number that they cannot be correctly computed, but are supposed to be at least _one hundred millions_. prof. olmsted declares it fully demonstrated that "_the fixed stars are suns_," and, with other astronomers, argues the fair probability of many of them being of far greater magnitude than our own sun. dr. wollaston, a distinguished english philosopher, attempted to estimate the magnitude of certain of the fixed stars from the light which they afforded. "by means of an accurate _photometer_ (an instrument for measuring the relative intensities of light), he compares the light of sirius with that of the sun. he next computed how far the sun must be removed from us in order to appear no brighter than sirius. he found it would require to be _one hundred and forty-one thousand times_ its present distance, and even at that great distance sirius must give out twice as much light as the sun, or that, in point of splendor, sirius must be at least equal to two suns." "but," adds prof. olmsted, "as _sirius_ is more than _two hundred thousand times_ as far off as the sun, he has rendered it probable that its light is equal to that of _fourteen suns_." (we wish you to bear these facts in mind, they will serve you when we come to speak of the magnitude of our own sun.) but let us follow prof. olmsted a little farther. he says, "we have already seen that they are large bodies; that they are immensely farther off than the farthest planet; that they shine by their own light; in short, that their appearance is, in all respects, the same as the sun would exhibit if removed to the region of the stars. hence, we infer that they are bodies of the same kind with the sun. "we are justified, therefore, by a sound analogy, in concluding that the stars referred to were made for the same end as the sun; namely, as the centres of attraction to other planetary worlds, to which they severally dispense light and heat. although the starry heavens present, in a clear night, a spectacle of unrivalled grandeur and beauty, yet it must be admitted that the chief purpose of the stars could not have been to adorn the night, since by far the greater part of them are ever invisible to the naked eye, nor as landmarks to the navigator, for only a small proportion of them are adapted to this purpose, nor, finally, to influence this earth by their attraction, since their distance renders such an effect entirely insensible." therefore, arriving at the only rational conclusion _that they are suns_, many of them suns of vast magnitude; shining with splendor and brilliancy equal to, or surpassing that of our own sun; each giving out light and heat to their attendant planets and revolving worlds within their own domain, or sphere,--"may we not ask, for what purpose are these gifts dispensed to those surrounding worlds, if not for the use of percipient beings? "we are therefore led to the inevitable idea of a plurality of worlds; and that they are inhabited by some order of intelligences, and the conclusion is forced upon our minds that the spot which the creator has assigned to us is but a humble province in his boundless empire." none, however, can form a correct estimate, or comparison, between this, our diminutive earth, and those vast orbs--suns--fixed so remote from us in the sidereal regions, nor of the numbers, until in some measure they have familiarized their minds with, and understand, to some extent, the science of astronomy, and then survey the vast field through a suitable telescope. "even the first view through it, pointed heavenward, will astonish and fill the mind with awe and wonder; and as each new-grasping power is given to the instrument; new fields of those regions are joined on to those already explored, and every new stratum of space thus added is found to be studded with stars in ever increasing ratio; until myriads have come forth from the dark depths of the firmament, and they have a grand panoramic view of a universe of worlds peopling the realms of boundless space." then, in wonder and amazement, they will more fully realize and comprehend the omnipotent power of god in the manifestations of his creative word. then, in comparison, each realizing his own diminutiveness: that he is even less than an unperceived infinitesimal atom floating along in the gentle breeze, he will be led to exclaim with the psalmist: "how wonderful are thy works, o lord of hosts! what is man that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man that thou takest knowledge of him?" dismissing, for the present, the further contemplation of those far-off millions of stars, or suns, and their multiplied millions of attendant planets and worlds, we come back to the contemplation of our own sun, and its attendant planets, things with which we are more familiar, and which are--seemingly--more tangible. as we have before remarked, the sun governs and controls our earth, and the other planets and worlds within its domain. some of these worlds are not greatly dissimilar to this in which we live; some are smaller, while others are vastly larger--some computed to be even a thousand times larger than this earth, and, as we believe, all are peopled with some high order of intelligence. having gathered the foregoing facts from the most undoubted authorities--astronomers, whose mathematical and philosophical calculations have for their base the immutable laws established by creative wisdom, as now revealed in nature, we shall still rely--more or less--upon them for statistical facts and data, in further expositions from which to make deductions and draw our conclusions. we are desirous of familiarizing your mind with the mighty and wondrous works of god, so plainly manifested in his creating and sustaining power, which few, comparatively speaking, seem to comprehend in any other way save in the daily temporal blessings of life. should our feeble efforts raise your thoughts higher, and enable you to contemplate him with the eye of faith in the light of reason, and divine revelation; to know more of his greatness and power, and your entire dependence upon him for all temporal blessings in life; for the _only_ consolation you can have in the dying hour, and as your only hope for the future, and should such contemplation draw your mind and heart to him in holy love, and godly fear, we shall be well rewarded for our efforts. _fixed stars are suns._ we now propose to dwell for a short time upon the distance, magnitude, elements, and offices of the sun. the sun itself speaks to us with its voice of light, and it is our high privilege to understand, and thus comprehend mysteries long hidden, which are now being revealed. special manifestations were long since made by jehovah, which were left for those of the present enlightened age to comprehend; when the mind of man is more fully able to grasp his truths, and look up through nature to nature's god. now fix your mind's eye upon that brilliant orb of--seeming--eternal day; that sun which is ever shining, ah! whose light never pales, nor fails its vast empire. no storm-clouds obscure its brightness in the higher realm, neither is there waning of light, nor a wasting of its substance. possibly, from all eternity of the past it has been, and through eternity to come it will remain the same. we, on this earth, have our days and nights, our sun-shine and shadows, tempests and storms. our nights are the result of the daily revolution of the earth, these are when that portion of it on which we dwell is turned away from the sun, and the shadow of the earth--which is surrounded by a dense atmosphere--is that which constitutes our darkness. this atmosphere is a screen to us by day to modify the intense heat of the sun's rays. otherwise, it is possible that no animated life could exist. this atmosphere has in it the elements of production, which--when absorbed by the earth--assists in bringing forth for the sustenance of man and beast, and all living things. did not this atmosphere exist, our midnight hours would be almost as bright as noonday. see in this the wise provision of our heavenly father. that sun is farther away, and of far greater magnitude, than you now comprehend, or even imagine. we will now state its dimensions, distance, elements, &c., as measured and determined by the science of astronomy, and as agreed upon by all the best informed and most profound mathematicians and astronomers throughout the world. the diameter of the sun is _eight hundred and fifty-five thousand miles_. it would require _one hundred and seven worlds_, the size of this earth, set side by side to reach across it, and _one million four hundred thousand earths_, the size of this, to make a globe of equal magnitude. it is _two millions six hundred and fifty-five thousand miles round it_, while its bulk is not less than _six hundred times_ as great as all the worlds and planets it controls within its sphere put together,--some of which, as we have told you, are estimated to be a thousand times larger than this earth. is your mind expanding? are your views enlarging, so as to enable you to comprehend its vast dimensions? let the revelations of astronomy assist you. look at it again. from the comparatively small size of its disk as we see it from the earth, the distance must be vast indeed to dwarf it down thus. the distance is great, no less than about _ninety-five millions of miles_. it is three hundred and eighty-five times as far away as the moon: it is estimated that a cannon ball fired from this earth and keeping up its velocity at the rate of _five hundred miles an hour_, would not reach it in less time than about twenty-two years. still, though these are well demonstrated facts, ascertained by very correct measurement, by the most scientific mathematical surveyors of the heavens, yet we desire some more plain or familiar illustration. let us investigate. here we have it; are you ready for a journey? the celebrated braley has calculated the time required for a trip of ocular exploration. he observes, "a railway train starting from this earth, and running continuously, at the rate of _thirty miles an hour_, would arrive at the moon in eleven months, but would not reach the sun in less time than about _three hundred and fifty-two years_." we can partially comprehend this by calculation (although the years of the oldest individual of our country have not been sufficient to take him more than one third of the journey, even had he been placed on such train and started when an infant at his mother's breast). had the train been started only nineteen years later than the discovery of north america by columbus, in , and travelled thirty miles each hour since, it would just now be approaching the border of the sun, and, on arriving there, if a tunnel was opened and a track laid direct through it, "this train, continued at the same speed, would require more than a year and a half to reach the sun's centre; three years and a half to pass through it, and more than ten years to pass round it. "now this same train would attain the centre of this earth in five days and a half; pass through it in eleven days; and go round it in about thirty-five days." thus you see the diminutiveness of this earth as compared to the sun. these calculations are founded on facts so clearly demonstrated by the science of astronomy, that but few who examine into it will question their approximation to correctness. now while the mind is somewhat familiarized with that vast globe, the sun, let us contemplate it further. sir john herschel, the most profound philosopher in the science of astronomy the world has ever known; one whose inventions and improvements in the telescope have far surpassed those of all others; one who has enjoyed the highest advantages in the study and demonstration of the science, and who has made most important discoveries in regard to the sun, and moon, and the planets--and even the fixed stars, or suns, in the far off sidereal regions--tells us that from his investigations and discoveries in regard to the sun, there appears to be _a vast globe within_ the surrounding _photosphere of fire_, shielded by a void or non-luminous atmosphere, thus apparently protecting it from the surrounding flame of fire, and rendering it possible that the vast globe within is susceptible of animated life, which may exist there in some form. this, with the general corroboration of other astronomers, as to the two encircling volumes of atmosphere--the outer a luminous, and the inner a non-luminous one--is strong evidence confirmative of our hypothesis of the existence of that immense inner globe, or world, which is doubtless in reality the _heavenly world_; the saviour's empire, and the abode of the righteous. methinks, had sir john herschel but turned his attention for awhile to the flood-lights of divine revelations, made by god himself through his spirit to fallen man, he would ere this have opened the "gate" to the eye of faith, and bid the weary christian to look and behold the confines of that bright world which was opened, and flashed its inner light upon the eyes of the dying martyr stephen, when, "being full of the holy ghost, he looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of god, and jesus standing at the right hand of god, and said, behold, i see heaven opened." thus, we are led to the inevitable conclusion that heaven is not so far distant but that it can be seen from earth by the _spirit-eye_, if god shall but open, and disclose it to view. where else can we imagine its location, to be within range of--even immortal--vision from this earth? st. john, while in the spirit, had a view of that heavenly world, and the vast city with glittering jasper walls, and gold-paved streets, and even the "great white throne," the saviour on that throne, surrounded by an innumerable company that no man can number. st. paul, in spirit, was caught up, even into the "third heaven," and "saw and heard things which it were not lawful for man to utter" to mortals on earth. he tells us that "eye hath not seen, neither ear hath heard, nor hath it entered the heart of man, the glory that shall be revealed." but we will not here anticipate the still stronger evidence we have yet to lay before the mind as we pursue this interesting theme. bear in mind the fact that heaven is considered by the most learned and ablest writers on theology, as "a fixed place," permanent and abiding. that it is vast in extent, and glorious in appearance, and has, within, all the necessary elements and arrangements for complete happiness. and, we believe, that not very remotely distant from it is the place where is the element of punishment for the wicked. we think the revelations of god, and the manner and mode of his manifestations to the children of men, together with the revelations of astronomy in regard to the sun; its magnitude and elements, will, when we come to consider them further, not only startle the mind, but prove our hypothesis well-founded. _a contemplation._ just here, may we not, for a few moments, speculate in mind upon a possibility, which, as we advance, will assume more the form of a probability? look once more upon that brilliant orb, whose light, _without_, may be one of the lamps of eternal day. look but for one second of time only; for, as we have told you, a steady gaze into its fiery flame of brightness for one minute alone is fatal to the blinding of the unprotected eye. may not _within_ be the place of which the poet's spiritual eye caught a glimpse, when alone in silent meditation he penned those sublime and beautiful lines: "there, on those wide extended plains, shines one eternal day, there god, the son, forever reigns, and scatters night away. no chilling winds, nor poisonous breath, can reach that healthful shore, sickness and sorrow, pain and death, are felt and feared no more." may not that be the _heavenly world_ wherein stands the "city of god, whose foundations are eternal," and whose maker and builder is the great architect of the universe? its walls are jasper, and are ever glittering in the glory-light of eternal day. its apartments are gorgeously furnished in brilliant array. "_i go_" said the saviour, "_to prepare a place for you._" there "the gold-paved streets," there the "great white throne" and "christ the lord" who sits thereon as the judge and ruler of his own native empire--for it is he that shall judge the nations of this earth, and in the "great day" of "final judgment" he will recount, in evidence, some of the scenes through which he passed on this earth, to justify his final and unalterable decision. may not there gush forth the crystal "fountains of life" from which to drink will quench all thirst; and there the "rivers of life" ever flowing, in whose waters to bathe will renew eternal youth, and immortality, to dwell on and on with eternity itself? may not moses, and elijah, and the prophets, and martyrs be there? may not many of us, who are still on this earth, contemplate the theme that there (in that bright world at whose boundary surface we cannot, while dwelling in mortality, gaze for even one minute of time without being blinded) we have a father, a mother, sister, brother, husband, wife, a child, or some loved friends, who have left the shores of time, and are safe with their blessed saviour, to dwell in his sun-light throughout "eternal day?" may we not contemplate the possibility of these things, when we remember that it is said of heaven, "the righteous shall dwell _therein_," and that "god" in his eternal manifestations "dwells in light unapproachable" to us in our mortality, and is only manifest to us here by his invisible spirit veiled in fire? startle not when we come to lay before you the well-defined elements surrounding that vast globe. the timid mind might naturally recoil, and stand aghast at the thought of approaching such volume of intense heat and "devouring flames." remember that you are still in the body, subject to all the pains and penalties of fallen humanity. remember that god has created no element incompatible with his own nature; remember that he is the almighty power who hath created all things, and in the infinity of his power, can control any element for our happiness, and also the same for our misery. thus it will appear that "every man's work shall be tried as by fire;" the righteous to be saved as by fire, and yet the wicked to be destroyed or tormented by fire. in this we can see the infinity of the power of god in the salvation and happiness of his children--who are "the children of light," as also in the torments of the "children of darkness." but we shall be able to show that "god's spirit _is fire_" and that he _does_ so control this element, or change our nature, that whatever these may be, they are properly adapted to constitute ineffable happiness to the immortal state of the righteous. this, we trust, will appear plain to you before you have finished the perusal of these pages. _the sun, and globe within._ we now propose to continue our investigations of the sun; in considering its surrounding elements, offices, &c. we have already said that it is the main-spring, and we may add, barring the great author, the source and fountain of animated nature; the source of light and heat, the two stimulants of vital force, without which no animated life could exist on this earth; and so, doubtless, with all the other planets and worlds which it controls. and, while contemplating it thus as the immediate source of unnumbered blessings to the human race, and to all intelligences or animation belonging to this, or other worlds within its domain, we should not fail in devout reverence to the _great author_, who created all by the "word of his power"--not only our sun and its retinue of attendant planets, but those innumerable, far distant ones of which we have told you, with all _their_ attendant trains, yea, even all things, above, around, and beneath; the computation of whose numbers, their magnitude, grandeur, and transcendent glory so far exceeds our finite comprehension, that we are lost in wonder and amazement, and can but feel that, in comparison, we are less than an _atom_ of this vast and boundless universe of creation. the sun, represented as a "brilliant orb" a "luminary" or "luminous body," has also been denominated a "globe of fire." some astronomers consider it an "_incandescent_ body" (_glowing whiteness of intense heat_). dr. herschel's views respecting the sun are, that it is a planetary body like our earth, diversified with mountains and valleys, to which, on account of the magnitude of the sun, he assigns a prodigious extent--some mountains six hundred miles high, and valleys proportionately deep. he does not employ in his explanations volcanic fires, as some others have done, but supposes two separate regions of dense clouds floating in the solar atmosphere at different distances from the sun. the exterior stratum of clouds he considers as the depository of the sun's light and heat, while the interior stratum serves as an awning or screen to the body of the sun itself, which thus becomes fitted to sustain life-animation. this refutes the idea advanced by that celebrated french astronomer, la lande, who held "that the sun is a solid opaque body, having its exterior diversified with high mountains and deep valleys, and covered all over with a burning sea of liquid matter. the solar spots, he supposed, were produced by the flux and reflux of the fiery sea, retreating occasionally from the mountains, and exposing to view a portion of the dark body of the sun." but prof. olmsted (to whom we are indebted for this and much other information on this subject), refutes this hypothesis by showing the inconsistency that fluid, of the nature here spoken of, or supposed to exist, should depart so far from its equilibrium and remain so long fixed, as to lay bare the immense space occupied by the solar spots--some of which are supposed to be fifty thousand miles in diameter. prof. olmsted also examines the hypothesis of dr. herschel, relative to clouds surrounding the sun, and reasons as follows: "i am compelled to think the hypothesis (of dr. h.) is encumbered with very serious objections. clouds analogous to those of our atmosphere (and dr. h., expressly asserts that his lower stratum of clouds are analogous to ours, and reasons respecting the upper stratum according to the same analogy) cannot exist in hot air; they are tenants only of cold regions. how can they be supposed to exist in the immediate vicinity of a fire so intense, that they are even dissipated by it at the distance of ninety-five millions of miles? much less can they be supposed to be the depositories of such devouring fire, when any thing in the form of clouds floating in our atmosphere, is at once scattered and dissolved by the accession of only a few degrees of heat. nothing, moreover, can be imagined more unfavorable for radiating heat to such a distance than the light, inconstant matter of which clouds are composed, floating loosely in the solar atmosphere." prof. olmsted continues, "if we inquire whether the surface of the sun is in a state of actual combustion, like burning fuel, or merely in a state of intense ignition, like a stone heated to redness in a furnace, we shall find it most reasonable to conclude that it is in a state of ignition. if the body of the sun were composed of combustible matter and were actually on fire, the material of the sun would be continually wasting away, while the products of combustion would fill all the vast surrounding regions, and obscure the light of the sun. but solid bodies may attain a very intense state of ignition, and glow with the most fervent heat, while none of their material is consumed, and no clouds or fumes rise to obscure their brightness, or to impede their further emission of heat." hence, for these and other reasons, prof. olmsted thinks it more probable that the heat is that of a high state of ignition, rather than produced from combustion. thus we see that while all astronomers agree that the sun is the source of light and heat; that this heat is vastly intense; consuming, and yet never consumed or exhausted, it is a difficult matter to determine the nature and true element composing it. all agree however, that god himself created it and placed it in its proper position, and controls it for his own wise purposes. most astronomers consider it an incandescent body (glowing whiteness of intense heat), encircled with two atmospheres. that next its surface is supposed to be nonluminous, while the outer one which floats upon it is _luminous_--and forms a "_photosphere_," this is what we see in looking at the sun's bright disk. this photosphere radiates the heat and light which vivify the planets of the solar system, and imparts the stimulæ of life and animation. it is said that flame-like masses--some computed to be one hundred and fifty thousand miles in length--are piled upon, and overlap each other, and sweep onward in constant agitation like mountain billows of living fire. its brightness far transcends and pales that of all other luminaries, and would that of millions of stars as bright as sirius, or even hundreds of thousands of full moons. we accept this view, as to the outer photosphere, and believe this "_incandescent_," yet not a solid body, but rather a _photospheric ethereal_ element occupying its appointed space, and that it has nothing to do whatever, with the vast _inner globe_ which is entirely shielded from it by the intervening void, denominated by astronomers as a surrounding nonluminous atmosphere. sir john herschel tells us that his investigations led him to the belief that this shields the globe within, and thus renders it susceptible of maintaining life, or some form of animated existence. hence, we deem the evidences afforded by astronomy, strong, if not fully conclusive that our hypothesis is correct. but when we add to this the evidences found in the bible--god's own revelations to man--we think there can scarcely remain a doubt in the mind of any who follow us in this investigation. * * * * * we now propose to consider more definitely the nature of that volume of flame, or intense heat, which we denominate the _sun_. of its temperature it is difficult to form an estimate the least comprehensive. we know our furnace heat will fuse cast-iron at a little less than , degrees. oxy-hydrogen flame--one of the hottest known--is estimated at about , degrees fahrenheit, while the temperature ascribed to the sun is about , , . there is nothing our senses can realize, or our minds conceive, that will enable us even to approximate the intensity of this heat. * * * * * now we have seen that the sun is the source of all light and heat; the source--when the element is concentrated--of that which we denominate _fire_. the phenomena that fire pervades, by some of its constituents, every thing, and all space, is incomprehensible otherwise than in the belief that the spirit of god is everywhere. although fire is always on this earth in a concentrated form, yet its source is the sun, and from this source we can concentrate it into visible ignition. and yet we see that the element itself is _ethereal_; it will consume by combustion, yet its heat and flame always tends upward, and disappears in its own ethereal element, and we can recognize no solid substance in it. we can feel and realize its warmth and vivifying influence; we enjoy the light, as one of its productions, yet all are _ethereal_, and we cannot grasp, mould, or retain it. we know that the sun--that volume of heat--is the active source and agency of life and animation, and it imparts its blessings to us in a thousand ways; yet, misused, it proves the source and element of punishment and destruction. we have said that light and heat are the two great stimulants of vital force. these two stimulants are inseparably connected. heat is the source of light, and without heat _there would be no light_, for even reflected light is derived from this source; this is manifest to every intelligent mind. therefore, we see plainly that the sun is the source and mainspring of all animation, and to its influence, directed and controlled by the allwise creator, are we indebted for every blessing--nay, even life itself. it acts upon the elements appointed unto it, and brings forth all animation. it causes the earth to yield her productions; clothes the forest with green, gives to the "rose" and the "lily" their beautiful tints and fragrance, and imparts to the flowers of garden and forest their thousand variegated hues. it gives to man his strength and wisdom, and to woman her beauty and loveliness, and--with refined and cultivated intellect--her ten thousand charms. _the planets of our solar system._ let us now turn our attention, for a short time, to the contemplation of the planets, or worlds, belonging to our own solar system; those within the domain of our own sun, and to which it dispenses light and heat. with these, our astronomers are, so to speak, quite familiar. we cannot do better than to present them to you in the language of dr. child, whose writings have afforded us so much correct data in preceding pages. "in gazing at our fellow-planets on a clear night, as we see them stand out with pre-eminent brightness among the twinkling stars, who has not longed to penetrate the mystery of their being, and to know whether they, like our own earth, are worlds full of life and movement? the vast distance that intervenes between us forbids us to expect a direct solution of the question, for no instrument yet made, or that we can hope to make, will bring their possible inhabitants within the range of our vision. we are reduced, therefore, to survey them with the sifting force of intellect, and to rest contented with such circumstantial proof as is derived from a knowledge of their general structure, and the analogies subsisting between them and our earth. "among our nearest neighbors, _venus_ is nearly the size of our earth; and _mercury_ and _mars_, though considerably smaller, would still form worlds which, to our ideas, would not in their magnitude be so very different from our own. as before remarked, all the planets revolve in elliptical orbits round the sun, and the time consumed in their journey constitutes their year. their polar axis is not 'straight up and down,' but leans over or is inclined to the plane of their orbit, so that each pole is turned toward the sun at one period of the year, and away from it at another. this arrangement insures the regular alternation of seasons and a variety of climates on their surface. the orbital inclination of _mars_, for example, is much the same as that of the earth, and, therefore, the relative proportion of his seasons must have a close resemblance to our own. it might be expected under these circumstances that ice would accumulate toward the poles in winter time, as on our earth, and accordingly glacial accumulations have not only been observed by astronomers, but it has been remarked that they occasionally diminish by melting during the heats of summer, while they increase in winter. now as the planets, like the earth, turn round on their axis with perfect regularity--and those just mentioned do so in very similar periods of time, hence, all have their days and nights. "we have already stated that the earth and its fellow-planets are kept steadily in their orbits by the exact adjustment of _centrifugal_ and _centripetal_ forces. hence each moves in its regular order. "now by way of comparison, astronomers have denominated the sun as a globe two feet in diameter, or six feet in circumference. starting from this globe let us wing our way across the space filled by the solar system. a short flight of thirty-seven millions of miles brings us to a world which, compared to the two-feet globe, is no larger than a grain of mustard seed, while it is so bathed in the sun's dazzling rays that it is not easily distinguished when viewed from the earth. this fussy little planet whirls round the sun at the tremendous pace of , miles an hour, by which he proves his title to be called _mercury_, the 'swift-footed,' of mythology. at a distance of sixty-eight millions of miles from the sun we behold _venus_, the brightest and most dazzling of the heavenly hosts. in comparative size she may be represented as a _pea_. she is our nearest neighbor among the planets, and the conditions under which she exists recall many of those under which we ourselves live. about ninety-five millions of miles from the sun we come upon another 'pea' a trifle larger than the one representing _venus_, and in it we hail our own familiar mother earth. here we shall not now linger, but passing onward some fifty millions of miles we are attracted by the well-known ruddy glow of _mars_--whose comparative size is that of a _pin's head_. his mean orbital speed is , miles an hour--nearly our own pace--but as he takes twice as much time to run round the sun as we do, his year is consequently twice as long. "casting a glance behind, we are reminded of the growing distance that now separates us from the sun by the perceptible waning of his light. "we next spread our wings for a very long flight. in passing through the "asteroid" zone of solar space, about millions of miles from the sun, we may chance to fall in with some worlds of smaller dimensions than those we have been contemplating. we know very little about them, except that their ways are eccentric and mysterious. at length the shores of huge _jupiter_ are reached at a distance of nearly millions of miles from the sun. to carry on the comparison, he is a "small orange" to the "pea" of our earth, or to the two feet globe that represents the sun. his orbit is a path , millions of miles long, which he accomplishes in an "annual" period of about of our years. the sun's light has now shrunk considerably; but four brilliant moons or satellites, one or more of which are always "full," help to afford some compensation. but let us "onward" in our "outward-bound" course. we again pass through a space of nearly equal distance as that of _jupiter_ from the sun. we are now more than _millions_ of miles distant from the central pivot. here we fall in with _saturn_, whose comparative size may be represented by an orange considerably smaller than the last (bear in mind the comparative sizes, our earth as a "_pea_" to these each an orange). his year swallows up almost thirty of our own. and in this far distant region the sun, though giving only about one ninetieth part of the light which we receive, is still equal to full moons, and is at least sufficient for vision, and all the necessary purposes of life, while no fewer than eight satellites supplement the waning sun-light, besides a mysterious luminous "ring" of vast proportions. "twice as far away from the sun as saturn, _uranus_, represented by a _cherry_, plods his weary course. although his real diameter is , miles, his circumference over , , being more than four times the size of our own earth, yet he is rarely seen by the naked eye. his annual journey round the sun is , millions of miles, and he consumes what we should consider a lifetime, _years_, in getting over it. our little _earth_ has now faded out of sight. "only a few years ago, _uranus_ was the last planetary station of our system, but the discovery of neptune in , gave us another resting-place on the long journey into space. here, at a distance of nearly , _millions_ of miles from the sun, we may pause awhile before entering upon the more remote exploration of the '_starry_ universe.' "we are approaching the frontier regions of our system, and the sun's light and the power of his attraction are gradually passing away. between the shores of our sun-system and the shores of the nearest star-system--they also being suns--lies a vast, mysterious chasm, in the recesses of which may still lurk some undiscovered planets, but into which, so far as we yet know, the wandering comets alone plunge deeply. "we now stand on the frontier of the sun's domain, and are, in imagination, looking across one of those broad gulfs which, like impassable ramparts fence off the different systems of the universe from each other. it seemed needful that the great architect should interpose some such barrier between the contending attractions of the giant masses of matter scattered through space; that there should be a _sea_ of limitation in which forces, whose action might disturb each other, should die out and be extinguished. in it the flood-light of our glorious sun gets weaker and weaker, and its bright disk wastes away by distance, until it shines only as a twinkling star. and the strong chain of its attraction which held with firm grasp the planets in their orbits, after dwindling by fixed degrees into a force that would not break a gossamer, is finally dissipated and lost. "now we ask, is it likely that those vast orbs--with masses and densities so wonderfully modified and adjusted in accordance with what we perceive to be the requirements of living creatures--with years and months, days and nights, seasons and climates--with atmosphere and twilights, trade-winds and currents--with clouds and rains, continents and seas, mountains and polar snows--with sun, moon, and stars, and, in short, with all the elements that make up the conditions of a habitable globe--is it likely that those glorious works of the creator should have been formed to lie waste, sterile, and unprofitable? or even if we could bring ourselves to think that those masses, whose united bulk dwarfs our earth into insignificance, had been solely created as make-weights to keep this little atom of earth in its place, why should they have been provided with complicated systems of moons revolving round them to give them auxiliary light? the sun's light they share in common with ourselves; but for what conceivable purpose should deserts void of life have been supplied with those wonderful lamps to light them up in the absence of the sun? conditions that might be incompatible with our organization, may be by adjustment of creative wisdom exactly suited to the beings placed to inhabit them. all life, even if it be essentially the same in principle, may not everywhere assume the same phase of outward existence, nor need we attempt to set limits in this respect to the lord of life. the spaces lie there furnished ready--the word was only required to people them with life. "such inquiries have an interest which goes beyond their mere astronomical import, for they touch our conceptions of god's greatness, wisdom, and power. is there one who does not long to be able reasonably to cherish the thought that, far away from this _tiny_ speck of earth, in the remote realms of space, we behold worlds inhabited by beings who, it may be, are privileged to know their creator, and to bless, praise, and magnify him forever." we have seen that all leading astronomers agree in the fact of a "_plurality of suns_," and a "_plurality of worlds_," and their numbers so vast that they are beyond our computation. now we hold that in all this vast creation, there is a controlling element, and that this element is necessarily manifest in all things, and so predominates that percipient intelligences should, and we believe can--to a certain extent--comprehend it. do you ask, what is this element? we answer _fire_! we have presented to your mind--as far as we are able to comprehend--the infinity of god's wisdom and power, as manifested in his wonderful creations; not only in creating this earth on which we live, and all pertaining thereunto, but of heavens, suns, planets and worlds, whose numbers are _millions_, as they are seen standing out and peopling the realms of boundless space, and yet we know that so vast is the infinity of his wonderful creations, that we have given to the mind only a bird's-eye view within the borders of his boundless empire. we are aware that the idea we advance--that the vast globe, encircled by the photosphoric, ethereal flame (that which we denominate the sun), _is our heaven_, as also the heaven for intelligences of the other planets of our solar system, and that there are numerous other suns of similar import which may also be heavens for created intelligences inhabiting their surrounding planets--is new to the mind of man, and that at first thought some may be incredulous; thus, as we said in the beginning, it has ever been with all important discoveries, and especially so of discoveries through the lights and science of astronomy. nevertheless, the wondrous works of the creator, as we have surveyed and contemplated them--we think--will justify our hypothesis. but to all the foregoing we shall still add stronger, and we think, more convincing evidences, when we come to contemplate the elements of the sun--fire, heat, and light--in connection with god's intercourse by his spirit, and his dealings with man. _god's throne shall endure forever; so also shall the sun. conclusive scriptural evidence for all that we claim._ god hath sworn by his holiness, that the seed of david (the messiah), should "endure forever, and his throne as the sun before him." the psalmist, referring to the messiah says, "his name shall endure forever. his name shall be continued as long as the sun, and all nations shall call him blessed." here we have the assurance of the eternal duration of the sun; even as the throne of god which is to "endure forever and ever." the promise is, that "his seed also will i make to endure forever, and his throne as the days of heaven. thy throne o god is forever and ever." thus, we see that the sun and the heaven are to endure as long as the throne of god, and his throne is to endure "forever and ever." now to us, to all, while dwelling in mortality, the sun dispenses its blessings alike. "he maketh the sun to shine on the evil and on the good, and sendeth the rain on the just, and on the unjust." thus, we see that the sun is the active agency for the dispensing of his blessings to man and all animation on this earth. its rays of light and heat penetrate the bosoms of oceans and seas, and draw up from "the fountains of the deep" the "liquid element" in ascending vapor, and condensing it into clouds, scatter and return it in rains, and gentle showers, to water and replenish the earth and make it bring forth for sustenance of man and beast, and renew the verdure of nature. now do we not see in all this, as in all things else, that the sun--its heat and light--are god's agencies in sustaining all things? we have told you that we could comprehend that it _was_ an agency pervading and controlling all things. but you have doubtless noticed the fact that as we have followed up and grasped the revelations made by philosophers and astronomers, that the ablest of them have failed to comprehend the _nature_ of the eternal source of fire. all agree in the one fact, however, that it is derived from the sun. no finite mind ever has comprehended, nor, it may be, ever will be able to fully comprehend it. we know that it exists. we apply to it properties and principles, or components which form the element. beyond this we cannot go, only we know that god himself is its author; that it is an element intimately connected with himself--nay more, that he has even revealed to us that _his spirit is fire_! and when we contemplate the fact that it is the only completely destructive, or _annihilating_ element, and yet one that can _never be destroyed_; one that is to purify the righteous, and yet punish the wicked, we are led to the inevitable conclusion that it is an _attribute_ of the great jehovah. we believe it an element of creative agency, one that has existed--possibly--from all eternity, and will continue through all eternity to come. we are told that god, by his spirit, is manifest in all his works. now, what else than _light_, and _heat_, is thus manifest to us? it is positively _the source of all light_, and st. paul tells us that "all things are made manifest by light;" while the psalmist declares "his going forth is from the _end of the heaven_, and his circuit unto the ends of it, and there is nothing hid from the _heat_ thereof." now we see that this declaration establishes our hypothesis of the location of heaven. his going forth from the _end of the heaven_--from the sun--and nothing is hid from the heat thereof--the sun being the source of heat--is conclusive evidence that the _sun_ is near--even at the _ends_ of the heaven. in the further contemplation of the hypothesis, that the spirit of god is _as_ fire, you will remember that we have stated that some of the constituent elements of fire pervades all things, and also that god--_by his spirit_--is everywhere, and in all his works. hear the psalmist, on this subject: "whither shall i go from thy _spirit_? whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i ascend up into heaven, thou art there; if i make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there thy hand shall lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. "if i say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. yea, the darkness hideth not from thee: but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee." mark well this testimony, that while the spirit of god is everywhere, so, also, is that spirit _light_, and there is no darkness, save to those vailed in humanity. when spirit is free from mortality; is accepted of god, and clothed upon with immortality; _as spirit_, it partakes of his own nature, and will, henceforth, dwell forever in eternal light. now what the sun is to this earth and its inhabitants, so also we believe it to be to the inhabitants of all the other planets belonging to its system; all of which worlds it controls, even as it does this. and here the mind goes out in the contemplation of the hypothesis, that all those other suns, standing far out in sidereal regions--each governing and controlling its own system of planets, or worlds--are also _heavens_ for created intelligences inhabiting such planets. god is infinite, as well as omnipresent. infinite in wisdom, and in his creative power. "who can set bounds to the almighty?" therefore _suns_, and consequently _heavens_, may be numbered by _millions_, and their surrounding worlds by _billions_; yet all created, governed, and controlled by the infinite wisdom and power of the great architect of the universe. such hypothesis is wonderful for finite minds to contemplate, yet not more so than the fact of the existence of our own solar system. that the sun shall endure forever, no rational mind can doubt. god's own word assures this, and that his throne shall endure as long as the sun. should he quench the fires of the sun, and yet make no other provision for light and heat, all would be blackness, darkness, and desolation, and no animated life could exist on this earth, or surrounding worlds. * * * * * having assumed the hypothesis that that which we denominate the sun is a volume of _photospheric-ethereal_, or spirit-fire; that it is the source of all that we can comprehend of _light_ and _heat_; we have also stated our belief that it is an _attribute_ of the eternal one--possibly an agency of _creative power_--we believe we shall be able to make this plain to every reflecting mind, in our further contemplations of the revelations which god has made of himself, as we find them recorded in the bible. these revelations are plain, and we believe the time in the history of our world has come, when we should more fully comprehend them--even the nature of his manifestations, and thus comprehend more our own relations to him, and by this means be enabled to "come to a knowledge of his truth," and more fully realize his prescience, day by day. that this has not been more fully comprehended heretofore, must seem a mystery to every reflecting mind. now what are these revelations? let us examine. we learn from bible history, that "god created man in his own image, and after his own likeness." "in the image of god created he him; male and female, created he them." thus, in creation, man is spoken of in the _plural_. "and the lord god formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." now "the first adam was made a living soul, and the second adam a quickening spirit." the terms soul and spirit are held as synonymous; both having reference to our immortal nature, and, as this immortal nature emanated from god our creator, and is of his own eternal attribute, it can never die; hence, it must exist through all eternity. job asks, "to whom hast thou uttered words? whose spirit came from thee?" and in ecclesiastes it is declared, "the spirit shall return to god who gave it." st. john, the revelator, tells us that "god is a spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." while st. paul says, "his spirit beareth witness with our spirits, that we are the children of god." now you will remember that st. john, the revelator, has told us that it was revealed to him that "the seven lamps of _fire_, were the seven spirits of god," while job says, "a flame goeth out of his mouth, and god by his spirit garnished the heavens." we wish you to bear this evidence in mind. for job not only speaks of a _plurality of heavens_, but explains by what agency they were garnished--even by the _spirit of god_. now we know that garnishment is transcendent brightness, and brilliancy; to adorn and polish _surface_. is it not therefore, probable that job had reference to that bright _ethereal spirit flame_, whose brilliancy blinds us if we attempt a lingering gaze at the sun's bright disk? 'tis said that heaven within is lighted with the "glory of god." in our previous arguments, we have showed, conclusively, that the sun is the source of fire, heat, and light. let us now further examine the offices of this element thus derived from the _sun_, and note in this investigation whether it is not, in some way, intimately connected with _heaven_. _first._ under the mosaic dispensation, god commanded his prophets, and priests, to build unto him an altar, and to offer sacrifices thereon; and such sacrifices would be accepted by him, as should be evidenced by his sending down fire from heaven to consume the offerings. he also commanded, through moses, that the fires should ever be burning upon the altar, and that the priests should continue to renew sacrifices and burnt offerings upon it. these sacrifices were as memorials before the lord, and typical of the coming of christ, who should be the "great sacrifice," to ransom fallen man. now it will be remembered that when such offerings were made, fire came down from heaven and consumed the offerings, and thus made manifest that the sacrifices were accepted of god. (let it be remembered that we have shown, as far as finite mind can comprehend, that the _sun_ is the only direct source of fire, and then remember that _fire came down from heaven_.) in the book of job we read, "_the fire of god has fallen from heaven._" the psalmist tells us that "god is a _sun_ and a shield, who maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flaming fire." now we know that angels are god's ministers, and how oft do we find recorded in the bible, how--under the earlier dispensation--they appeared on earth in forms of _fire_, and with the brightness of the _sun_. the psalmist tells us again that: "our god shall come, a fire shall devour before him. a fire goeth before him and burneth up his enemies." the prophet jeremiah proclaims: "wherefore, thus saith the lord god of hosts, behold, i will make my words in thy mouth fire." the psalmist answers: "while i was musing the fire burned." thus, how plain the revelations that _god's spirit is fire_. not necessarily manifested at all times, by the burning and consuming our mortal bodies--this only in his _wrath_--but by the purifying of our natures; "burning up the dross, and base desires," and thus fitting us for the enjoyment of heaven and happiness, for "he shall be as a refiner's fire, and the righteous are saved as by fire." let us hear what the prophet jeremiah saith: "for behold the lord will come with fire; and with his chariots like a whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebukes with flames of fire, and the slain of the lord shall be many." ah, when he comes forth with his _spirit of fire_ in _wrath_ and indignation, then it is that this element is one of terrible destruction. comprehending this, the a same prophet inquires: "who among us shall dwell with devouring fire? who among _us_ shall dwell in everlasting burnings?" hear the answer of god, given through his prophet to all his obedient and faithful children: "though thou walkest through the fires, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flames kindle upon thee." again, of his spirit in a milder form: "is not my _word_ like fire, saith the lord?" the prophet answers: "his word was in my heart as a burning fire." now remember that: "by the _word_ of the lord were the heavens made, and all the hosts of them by the breath of his mouth." _and here his word is represented as_ fire! in the first book of the chronicles it is written: "every man's work shall be tried by fire." and, in the second book of the chronicles: "and when the children of israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground, and worshipped and praised the lord." thus, no one dared gaze on the brightness of that _glory_, and all bowed "with their faces _to the ground_." turning to the book of deuteronomy, we find written: "the lord thy god is a consuming fire. understand therefore this day, that the lord thy god is he that goeth over before thee as a consuming fire. out of heaven he made thee to hear his voice, that he might instruct thee; and upon earth he showed thee his great fire; and thou heardest his words out of the midst of the fire." in leviticus we find written: "and there went out a fire from the lord and devoured them, and they died before the lord. and there came a fire out from before the lord, and consumed upon the altar the burnt offerings--which, when the people saw, they shouted and fell on their faces." let us contemplate, for a moment, the sacrilege of the attempt at using this element--during the old dispensation--to the consuming of an offering or sacrifice to any other than the _one true and living god_. turn to the book of numbers, and read, "when the people offered incense upon the strange altar, there came down fire from the lord and consumed the two hundred and fifty who offered the incense. and nahab and abihu died, when they offered strange fire before the lord." second kings, vi. : "elisha said, they that be for us are more than they that are against us; he prayed, and god opened the young man's eyes, and he saw; and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about elisha." thus we see that this element--in its destructive form--is the ready manifestation of god's displeasure. turn to exodus, and read,-- "and the angel of the lord appeared unto him (moses), in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush, and he looked, and behold the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed." _again_, "the cloud of the lord was upon the tabernacle by day, and a fire was upon it by night in sight of all the house of israel." _again_, "and the sight of the glory of the lord was like devouring fire upon the top of the mount in the eyes of the children of israel." now let us consider this element in its offices when controlled by the great jehovah. judges, xiii. : "for it came to pass when the flame went up toward heaven from off the altar, that the angel of the lord ascended in the flame of the altar." here there was no delusive manifestation, but the actual _flame of fire_, ascending upward toward heaven; even to the _sun_ its original source. we will now turn to the book of the second kings, and--in our mind's eye--join the prophets "as they walked and talked with elijah" and witness one of the most sublime scenes the eye of man has ever beheld: "and it came to pass as they still went on and talked, that behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder, and elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." was there not a startling, and sublime revelation, that this element controlled, can be suited, even to our enjoyment of _happiness_ when the great change comes; when this mortal shall put on immortality? in the book of malachi--the last of the old testament scriptures--we hear the voice of him who had promised deliverance, speaking to us through his prophet: "unto you that fear my name, shall the _sun_ of righteousness arise." thus we see that the promised messiah was spoken of as a _sun_. turning to the record of the new testament, we find the saviour's advent into this world signaled by a brilliant "star," emblematical of the _sun_, shining in all its splendor, brilliancy, and beauty, and leading the wise men to where lay the "infant of days"--the veiled "star," or _sun_, of light and immortality. at a later day, behold him manifesting his veiled brightness, as he stood "_transfigured on the mount_" before peter, james and john, when "_his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment white as the light_." but we deem it unnecessary to dwell upon all the symbols of _fire_, _heat_, and _light_, so clearly representative, which may be found interspersed throughout the old, and the new testament pages. we will catch up a few others as we pass along, before, in mind, taking our stand with john, the revelator, on the isle of patmos. st. paul tells us,-- "the lord jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his mighty angels in flaming fire, taking vengeance on them that know not god, and that obey not the gospel of our lord jesus christ." and that the "lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming." st. john, says: "_i indeed baptize you with water, but he that cometh after me is mightier than i, he shall baptize you with the holy ghost and_ with fire." thus we see that _spirit_ is denominated _fire_ in the ordinance of _spiritual baptism_. and st. paul says: "by one spirit are we all baptized into one body." * * * * * let us now glance at the account of john's spiritual vision while on the isle of patmos, as recorded in the book of revelation: "i heard behind me a great voice as the voice of a trumpet, saying, i am alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the ending, saith the lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come, the almighty. and i turned to see the voice that spake with me, and i saw seven golden candlesticks, and one in the midst of the candlesticks like unto the son of man. his head and his hair were white as the snow, and his eyes were as _flames of fire_, and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace, and his voice as the sound of many waters. and he had in his right hand seven stars; and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword; _and his countenance was as the sun shining in his strength_." john saw the door of heaven opened and a voice as of a trumpet said unto him, "come up hither, and i will shew thee the things which must be hereafter." he continues. "and immediately i was in the spirit, and, behold a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne, who, to look upon was like jasper, and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald, and around the throne sat four and twenty elders in raiment of white, and out of the throne proceeded lightnings, and thunderings, and voices, and there were seven lamps of _fire_ burning before the throne, _which are the seven spirits of god_. and the temple of god was opened in heaven, and there was seen in his temple the ark of his testament, and there were lightnings, and voices, and thunderings. and there appeared a great wonder in heaven, _a woman clothed with the sun_. and i saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven clothed with a cloud, and a rainbow was upon his head and his face was, as it were the _sun_, and his feet as pillars of _fire_." "_and the city had no need of the sun_, for the glory of god did lighten it, and the lamb is the light thereof." "and there shall be no night there, for the lord god giveth them light, and they shall reign forever and ever. the lord god shall be unto them an everlasting light, and the days of their mourning shall be ended." "_then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their father. who hath ears to hear let him hear._" (matt. xiii. .) * * * * * we have quoted the foregoing scriptural passages--to which we might add scores of others of similar import--to show the connection of the element of fire, heat and light--with god himself, and that while it proves the agency; at least in dispensing his blessings to all animated life, and can be so controlled by him that--even in its intensity--it cannot harm the righteous, either in body or spirit, when he interposes; yet it is the certain agency of destruction, and the torment of the wicked at his will; or without this interposition. certain it is, that it is the _agency_ by which he has made himself manifest to man, and this agency still continues in the dispensing of all the manifold blessings we enjoy, day by day, and should cause every heart to turn to him with reverence and grateful emotions. the mind of the christian world should acknowledge the omnipresence of the infinite one; that he pervades all space, and is manifest in all things; while each individual should feel as elihu did when he uttered the words, "the _spirit_ of god hath made me, and the breath of the almighty hath given me life;" and exclaim with the psalmist: "i will bless the lord at all times, his praise shall continually be in my mouth. the eyes of the lord are ever upon the righteous, and his ears are open unto their cry. o magnify the lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." "lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art god." now we have seen that god--by his spirit, or influence--is everywhere; that he pervades the universe of his creation; that his nature is eternal and indestructible, while all else--save man's immortal nature derived from god--is destructible. we are plainly told in the bible that the _spirit of god is fire_; that _his word is fire_; that he is like a _refiner's fire_--even as a purifier of silver. that every man's work shall be tried _by fire_; the righteous saved as by _fire_; that, to his people, he will be as _a wall of fire_; and though they pass through the fire they shall not be burned; neither shall the flames kindle upon them. and yet our god is a _consuming fire_, before whom the wicked shall not stand. that the _fire_ of his anger, and his _wrath_, shall be kindled against them, when all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly shall be cast into the fire that will never be quenched; whose flames shall ascend up forever and ever. oh, how plain the revelations of god as to the immortality of the soul, and a future state of existence! the righteous to enter into, and enjoy eternal life; the wicked--who are dead in trespasses and in sins--to enter into eternal death, even the "death that never dies." how _startling_ the fact of these plain revelations! god is now made manifest to our daily and hourly comprehension. how dare we trifle with him, and our own soul's immortal interest? we are daily and hourly rushing on to our own eternal destiny. ere another year, a month, a week or day is past, we may realize that "it is not all of life to live, nor yet of death to die." no one can escape the eternal fiat of jehovah, "_dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return_." as death leaves the body so judgment finds the soul. "the righteous shall inherit eternal life;" "the wicked shall be driven away from the presence of god, and from the glory of his power," and take up their abode with tormenting devils "in everlasting burnings." stop, poor wandering child of sin; yield obedience to the requirements of god's law; "acknowledge him in all thy ways, and he shall direct thy paths." the psalmist tells us that "_the lord god is a sun_." saint john tells us that, while in the spirit, it was revealed to him that the "_burning lamps of fire were spirits of god_." now remember that we have told you that the vast volume of flame of _ethereal fire outside_ and _around_ the heavenly world, is all that we can see or comprehend as the _sun_; that flame is the source of all _light_, heat, and animation: hence, considered in connexion with its offices, may we not safely conclude that it is an _attribute of jehovah_? the prophet malachi foretold the coming of the "sun of righteousness," behold the "star in the east!" who can doubt this star being a visible manifestation of the _spirit of god_? christ, the son of god, is called "the _sun_ of righteousness; the bright morning star." his advent into the world was signalized by this sacred emblem--even by the _spirit of god_ revealed as the _brightness of a star_. how appropriate this representation, when the son of god came to usher in the light of an eternal day to his people. transfigured during his stay on earth, "his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light." now remember, we are assured that the heavenly world and city "hath no need of the _sun_, for the glory of god doth lighten it, and the lamb (the son of god) is the light thereof." thus we think we have furnished conclusive scripture evidence that _god's spirit is manifested by fire_. fire is the source of all light, and is also an element pervading all things throughout the vast universe of god--in air and earth, seas and floods, rocks and mountains, throughout all heights and depths. hence, hear again the exclamation of the psalmist: "whither shall i go from thy _spirit_? or whither shall i flee from thy presence?" behold, god, by his spirit, is everywhere, even throughout the vast extended universe of all his wondrous works. we have but to consider the source of this element--which is god himself--and we shall then easily comprehend how it can, by the same power, be adapted or made congenial to our mortal or immortal natures. we have said, he has created no element incompatible with, or uncongenial to his own nature, nor any that he cannot adapt to the condition of the spirit-life of his children. fire is an element destructive of all things else save immortality, and that it is not destructive of this, we have evidence in the fact that the wicked shall be cast into the flames of hell, and suffer its torments for ever and ever. and yet, while it is an element destructive of all else, save immortality, it is one, and the _only one_ we can--even partially--comprehend, that can _never be destroyed_. mortality shall be destroyed, and naught remain but immortality, purified by fire--_the spirit of god_. now in order that his children _here_, might comprehend his infinite power in controlling, or adapting this element to their happiness, he has manifested this power even with mortality on this earth. our mortal bodies are susceptible of feeling its painful influences, and of being destroyed by it--save when he intervenes, and changes our nature so that it can have no impression upon us, or makes it a congenial element in which we can enjoy happiness. that he can do, and has done this, we have manifest in the miraculous preservation of the three hebrew children. for their refusal to forsake the living god, and worship the idol, or golden image set up by king nebuchadnezzar, the king commanded that the furnace should be heated seven-fold, and they be bound and cast into it. this was done, and while the heat was so intense as to destroy those who bore them to, and plunged them into the fiery furnace, yet when the king looked into it "he saw four men loose and walking in the midst of the flames; praising god, and blessing the name of the lord, and the fourth was like unto the son of god." the king called them to come forth, and when the three who were cast in came forth, "not a hair of their heads was singed, nor even the smell of fire passed on their garments." thus we see the power of god manifest in the adaptation at his own will, of this,--to our mortal bodies--painful and consuming element, to our condition of happiness. and, on the other hand, when this saving power is withheld, how certain is destruction, as manifested by its destroying those who approached near enough to the furnace to cast them in. o, the measure of happiness those children of the most high enjoyed in the midst of the burning flames! shouting and praising god. and when they came out of the fiery furnace, they still continued their triumphant shout; calling upon everything--animate, and inanimate--throughout the vast universe, to "bless, praise and magnify the name of the lord forever." that god can, and does make this element suited to the enjoyment of happiness of his people, we have also seen manifested in the case of elijah taking his seat, at the command of god, in the "chariot of fire," and with "horses of fire" ascending up into heaven. thus, "changed," as the apostle expresses it, "in the twinkling of an eye," his mortality ceased, and "clothed upon with immortality," by divine power, he could ride in triumph with his steeds of fire, sitting in his chariot of _burning flame_. we scarcely deem it necessary to refer again to the--almost universally conceded--fact of man's immortal nature. by the breath of god, man was made a living soul or spirit. god's spirit is _living fire_; hence this immortal nature of man is _living fire_, an attribute of god himself, and one which can never cease to exist; can never be annihilated, but will live on, and on through all eternity. but when this immortal principle of _spirit-fire_ leaves the body, mortality ceases to live, and must decay and moulder into dust. for, speaking of this mortal body, he hath said, "dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return," and "the soul shall return to god who gave it." _sun and heaven._ now to show the intimate connexion with the _sun_ and _heaven_, spoken of in the scriptures, we will here group together a few of the many passages found written therein. the prophet jeremiah, in referring to the great and terrible day of the lord, says "the light shall be darkened in the heavens;" and in the gospel according to st. mark, referring to the same, we read that "the _sun_ shall be darkened;" and in the revelation, that "the _sun_ and the air were darkened." again, jehovah, speaking to his people, saith: "i will cover the _heaven_, and make the stars thereof dark;" and, in order that we may more fully comprehend, he added: "i will cover the _sun_ with a cloud;" and the psalmist tells us that "he covereth the _heaven_ with a cloud;" and thus saith the lord through his prophet: "be not dismayed at the signs of _heaven_; for the heathen are dismayed at them." thus we see that the _sun_ and _heaven_ are often spoken of in connexion with each other in regard to light. the sun is to us the source of _all light_, and in covering the _heaven_ he covereth the sun. but we see, as above, that he hath made this matter plain to our comprehension by his own utterance: "_be not dismayed by the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them._" now you will remember that the heathen, in ancient times--and even so with them at the present day--were always dismayed and frightened at the recurrence of an eclipse of the sun, and imagined the time of the world had come to an end. but the science of astronomy has comprehended the laws of nature, and has revealed the true causes of these seeming phenomena to the enlightenment of the world, and many years previous to their occurrence. astronomers can foretell the day, the hour, and even the very moment when they will appear, or be visible in any part of the world, as, also, when they will disappear. but we see, however, that god himself has spoken of such eclipses as "signs in the _heaven_," and yet they are eclipses of the _sun_. but still more pointed and clear is the evidence of their connexion given by the saviour, where the pharisees and sadducees desired him to show them "_a sign from heaven_." hear his answer: "when it is evening, ye say, it will be fair-weather, for the sky is red; and in the morning, it will be foul weather to-day, for the sky is red and lowering. o ye hypocrites! ye can discern the face of the sky, but ye cannot discern the signs of the times." now we here see that they asked him for a sign from _heaven_, and the saviour answered promptly by referring to the apparent phenomena produced by the disappearing and reappearing of the _sun_. thus answering by signs which _they_ had marked; _produced by the sun_, which covereth the heaven from our view. we have shown what all must acknowledge; that the _sun_ is the only source of fire, heat, and light which is comprehended in nature. revelations of the past, and predictions as to the future, assure us that god's _wrath_ is revealed by _fire_. now from whence cometh this fire when his wrath is thus revealed? god rained down fire and brimstone from heaven upon sodom and gomorrah, and thus destroyed those cities and their wicked inhabitants. now, as the _wrath_ of god is revealed by _fire_, st. paul sets this matter at rest. hear him: "_the wrath of god is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men._" thus, his spirit of wrath is manifested by fire; the _source_ of fire is the _sun_, and he sends _fire from heaven_. hence, we cannot for a moment doubt the correctness of our hypothesis that the source of fire, as manifested in the past, and also that which shall be manifested in the future, is the _sun_. and wherein it is declared that fire came down from heaven, or out of heaven, it was natural that such expressions were used, because it was held that god resided in heaven, and he sent down fire from thence to execute his judgments. _a plurality of heavens._ the idea of a _plurality of heavens_, and their numbers almost infinite, would seem at first thought to startle the mind, and disarrange all our conceptions of the extent and machinery of the universe, and of the employment of god, and all the angels, and other intelligences he has made. yet its truth only brings home to us the insignificance of our own earth, and still more that of ourselves. we are too prone to think that this earth and its inhabitants are the principal objects of the creator's care, and that _man_ is of vast importance in the order of his arrangements, and of augmenting his kingdom and glory. while the truth is, our world is insignificant, when compared to his wonderful creations, and each individual as but a single grain of sand among all that may be found upon the shores of oceans and seas. and yet all that he hath made _are_ the objects of his government and care. for "not even a sparrow falleth to the ground" unknown to him. that in his omnipotent and infinite power he can, and has created separate systems of planet-worlds, and a central sun and heaven for controlling each, we cannot doubt; neither is there more of incomprehensible mystery in this contemplation than in that of our own system of planets, with its central and controlling _sun_ and heaven. let us turn to revelations made, as recorded in the bible, and see if there are not declarations which sustain this hypothesis. in the second book of the kings it is written: "_but will god indeed dwell on earth? behold, the heaven, and heaven of heavens cannot contain him_;" and in the second book of the chronicles: "_but who is able to build him an house, seeing the heaven, and heaven of heavens cannot contain him._" the psalmist says: "_the heavens; even the heavens are the lord's_," and "_the heavens declare the glory of god_," and that "_by the word of the lord were the heavens made, and all the hosts of them by the breath of his mouth._" thus we have conclusive evidence of a _plurality of heavens_, while, possibly, their numbers are _millions_, their surrounding planet-worlds _billions_, with a wide expanse of surrounding "firmament of the heavens" bestrewn with "_glittering gems_," standing out the grand _empyrean_ covering of all. says dr. nichol: "mystery, indeed, heavy, almost oppressive, hangs over all the perceptive; but the shapes strown through that bewildering territory have nothing in common with the fantastic creations of a dream. it is the essence of these nebulæ that they are not formless, but, on the contrary, impressed indelibly by system on the grandest scale; clearly as a leaf they have organism; something has seized on their enormous volumes, and moulded them into a wonderful order." says child: "thus every thing bears the mark of order impressed upon it by the almighty hand. that noble gift of god to man--the telescope--has magnified him by driving away every semblance of _chance_ from the firmament, and by exhibiting in its place designs and established law. up there, as down here, the idea of irregularity or chance is but the suggestion of our ignorance." thus, from a knowledge gained through that wonderful, and yet most exact of all sciences--astronomy--we base our conclusions. _that_ science is the grandest, most perfect, and comprehensive of all sciences known to the human mind. it grasps, analyzes, and comprehends the laws and forces which make up and control the universe, and every other science known is intimately connected with, or based upon it. there is no chance-work in nature; all things are moulded and formed complete by the great architect, whose word created them, and all the grand panorama of suns, moons, planets, worlds, and stars, are perfect and in the exact order of his creative wisdom. whatever of incomprehensible mystery our hypothesis of those far-distant _suns_ and _heavens_ may involve, we feel satisfied of the correctness of our theory in regard to our own, and our mind is equally impressed with the probability of all the other planets belonging to the sun's domain, being inhabited by living intelligences, and that, in the order of their creator's arrangement, they too find their heaven of eternal existence there. we know there is room for all and to spare, within that heavenly empire, and would be if they and our own earth should remain repeopling and passing thither for cycles of ages to come; for, as we have seen from astronomical measurement, it is computed to be more than one million times the size of this earth. how enrapturing the thought, that there we may not only meet the prophets and seers of old; the apostles and martyrs; "those who went up through great tribulations," "who washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb;" our counselling ministers, who have assisted us in the way; there the loved ones of our hearts, who have already left us and this world of "sin and sorrow," and are now safely at "home;" there other loved ones who are yet on this earth and are striving with us for a home in that "better land;" but also, perhaps, there we shall meet messengers, and children of god from all the other worlds belonging to the sun, or that heaven's domain; and with the innumerable company of angels, and all the ransomed hosts, dwell forever with our saviour in the glory-light of the spirit of god. o, who will not seek and strive for a _home in heaven_? _a place for the wicked._ that there are two separate places and conditions--one for the righteous and the other for the wicked--we cannot doubt. in regard to no other fact are the revelations of god and declarations of the scriptures more clear and explicit. this of itself should startle every inhabitant of earth; cause due and solemn reflection; and incline every one to search for light, and truth, and for the way of salvation. in stating the facts contained in this volume, it has not been our design to indulge in a tirade against those who seem careless and indifferent in regard to their own souls' eternal interest. if our picture makes the final doom of the wicked a fearful one, we have only presented the declarations of god through his prophets, and of the saviour and his apostles. these declarations are startling, when properly considered, and should awaken every mind to the consideration of what must be their final destiny, if they continue to neglect the overtures of mercy. the law of god is fearful in its denunciations against the wicked, and its sentence will be sternly executed. therefore we would "persuade all to be christians." if all the inhabitants of this earth--all who have lived during the past, or may live and die on it through long ages to come--were saved and should go to dwell in that heavenly world, there would still be room there for more. yea, even then, untold millions of chambers, ready and beautifully furnished by the saviour in that vast and glittering "city of god," would still be unoccupied. and to the wicked, who will not turn from their evil ways, is lost forever the privilege of occupying those mansions; of walking the gold paved streets; of "drinking the waters from the fountains of life;" of wandering amidst the "shady groves," and along the banks of the beautiful rivers; of traversing valleys, and ascending the "hills and mountains of the lord," and of plucking and eating the "ambrosial fruits" that grow on "the trees of life;" of having wealth and honor, and a safe and permanent home with the angels; the prophets and apostles of old; with moses, and david, and elijah; with abraham, isaac, and jacob, and with all the great and good of every age and clime--even with all "the redeemed of the lord" "who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb"--with kindred friends from earth; with angels and spirits of just ones made perfect, yea, "_with all the ransomed hosts_," and above all, with christ, the son of god, who is, and will there be king and ruler forever. and for what are all these exchanged? let us see. the bible is the sure word of god. it tells us that "the wicked shall be driven away in their wickedness;" that they "shall be cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth." they "shall be turned into hell with all the nations that forget god:" "they shall be cast into the lake of fire, and the smoke of their torment shall ascend up forever and ever." "these shall go away into everlasting punishment," "but the righteous into life eternal." the blessed saviour, who died that they _might_ have eternal life, "shall say unto those on his left hand (the wicked), depart into everlasting fire;" while to those on his right hand (the righteous), "come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you before the foundation of the world;" "enter thou into the joys of thy lord." yes, reader, god has prepared the two places, and it rests with _you_--as a free moral agent--to make your choice, and act accordingly. he will never drag you into heaven by force. you are the rightful inheritor of a precious immortal soul. he has prepared a place of perpetual happiness, and _invites_ you to come to it. there you may find a home, with peace, love and joy. there is for you honor and wealth, and a "crown of glory." there the fountains, and "rivers of life," and an abundance of spiritual food. there neither decrepitude nor old age, nor sickness, sorrow, pain, nor death; but the bloom of eternal youth and beauty may rest on thy brow forever. make your choice, and make it _now_, for delays are dangerous, and death and the judgment may be near unto you. the _spirit-fire_ of god's love is now kindling in your heart, and i hear you say, "_yes_, i would like to be there." we implore you, quench not that _spirit-fire_ of love, or it will change to a consuming spirit-fire of wrath, and when your soul is released from the body, that spirit-fire will become an intense burning flame, and will be your torment forever and ever. the very thought of enduring _forever_--after this short life has past--should startle the mind of every intelligent being, and cause the most serious reflections. none can save but god, and this salvation is through his son, the lord jesus christ. all must go to him. our ministers can only advise and instruct, and to do this properly, they must themselves be holy men of god. christ himself assumed the office of the priesthood. he made the atonement. he is now our _only_ high priest, and all must go to him. the wealth of the universe, given to an earthly pope, bishop, or priest, could not save one single soul, nor purchase it from perdition. and yet salvation is freely offered to all who will forsake their wicked ways, and come to god through love, and faith in the lord jesus christ. all are convinced of the immortality of the soul, and of a future state of existence. the word of god has set this matter at rest, while it is fully evidenced by the inherent desire in every heart and mind that it should be so; even this "longing after immortality." so, also, does enlightened reason convince all that there will be a separation of the righteous from the wicked in their future conditions. there is no true harmony of mind and spirit between them even in this world; much less could there be when the righteous are made pure and clean by the "blood of the lamb." there has always been antagonism between the "spirit of light" and the "spirit of darkness." the first gives "light, life, and liberty." the second, darkness, death, and bondage. the word and revelations of god teach this fact, while the experience and heart admonitions of all confirm it. even the ungodly condemn wickedness, and yet, strange to say, continue on in sin. there has, from the beginning, been spiritual antagonism between the good and the bad, and a consciousness upon the part of the wicked of their own wrong-doing. this has been the case ever since wicked cain slew his brother abel; god then pronounced his curse upon the perpetrator of that wicked deed, and his curse has stood against all wicked doers from that time to the present, and will through all time to come. bible history is replete with evidences of his judgments against them, and plainly tells us that there are two separate places, one wherein the righteous shall enjoy happiness and eternal life; the other wherein the wicked shall be punished, and endure a living death that never dies, showing us plainly that, "it is not all of life to live; nor yet of death to die." * * * * * now, the _location_ of that place of torment will claim a few moments of our attention. of this we think we are _not_ left to conjecture alone. we believe our hypothesis of the location of heaven is correct, and that we have one equally certain of the location of _hell_, and that each hypothesis strongly corroborates the other. first, let us take direct testimony; that given by the son of god himself, who is to be the judge of all--even the "quick" and the "dead." the first are those quickened into life by the spirit, the last are "those who are dead in trespasses and in sin." you will find this evidence in the th chapter of the "gospel according to saint luke." christ, the son god, said, "there was a certain rich man, who was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day: and there was a certain beggar named lazarus, who laid at they rich man's gate, full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table; moreover, the dogs came and licked his sores. and it came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into abraham's bosom; the rich man also died, and was buried, and in hell he lifted up his eyes. being in torments, and seeing abraham afar off, and lazarus in his bosom, he cried and said, father abraham, have mercy upon me, and send lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my parched tongue, for i am tormented in this flame. but abraham said, son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise lazarus his evil things, but now he is comforted and thou art tormented. and beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulph fixed; so that they who would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us that would come from thence." "then he said, i pray thee, therefore, father, that thou wouldst send him to my father's house, for i have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. abraham said unto him, they have moses and the prophets; let them hear them. and he said, nay, father abraham; but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. abraham answered and said unto him, if they hear not moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead." thus, we see plainly that there are two separate places; one for the righteous, who are saved through obedience and faith, and the other for the wicked who are lost through disobedience and unbelief. nothing could be more plain, pointed, or conclusive. now let us recall to your mind that which we have related in preceding pages; wherein we have told you that most astronomers have agreed upon the fact, or hypothesis, of two atmospheres around the vast globe we have denominated heaven. the one next to it appears to be _non-luminous_; while the outer one--around this--is _luminous_, which they denominate _photosphere_, to which we have added _ethereal_, or "_spirit-fire_." this is what we see in looking at the sun, and is the vast volume of fire, or _ethereal flame_, that sends out heat and light to this and other surrounding worlds. this light and heat extend over a region of the illimitable space, not less than _six thousand millions of miles in extent_. we have endeavored to approximate to the mind the intense heat of the sun at its source, but it far exceeds finite comprehension. we have also given you the views and suppositions of able investigators that the extent of that photosphere, or volume of flame, is vast indeed. it is said that 'flame-like masses--some computed to be one hundred and fifty thousand miles in length--are piled upon and overlap each other, and sweep onward in constant agitation like mountain billows of living fire.' this, as we have told you, is the source of all fire, or heat known to us on this earth, and to all the other planets of our solar system. the precise nature and elements of fire, we have said, we cannot fully comprehend; neither its original source, save that it emanated from the great first cause. the sun is its direct source to us, and we realize it always the same; never augmenting nor diminishing. we know that it is the source of light to a vast region around, and, from the offices it performs, we cannot think less than that it is--as we have before said--an attribute of the great jehovah; and especially this when we consider god's own revelations as found recorded in the bible. in describing the dimensions of the _sun_, we have said it is , , miles round it, or to bring this vast extent nearer our comprehension, we may state that it would require earths, the size of this, set side by side to reach around it, and vast numbers more to cover its surface, and when thus covered with worlds like this, the stratum would only be about , miles deep, while it is reasonable to estimate that _photospheric flame to be , miles in depth_. we have mentioned the "_inner globe_," estimated to be more than a million times the size of this earth, and we have denominated it _heaven_, and this outside surrounding volume of ethereal fire we shall denominate _hell_, as we believe no other true hypothesis can be advanced. and, in assuming this, we believe ourselves sustained by the revelations of god, as well as by all we can comprehend of nature. in order to incite our minds to know and comprehend more of him, and become obedient to his requirements, god has shown us, by manifestations, his instrument of destruction and punishment. his prophets have also announced his threatenings against the wicked, and have told us that _fire_--the element of heat--is the instrument with which he will fulfil his threatened vengeance, and we have seen this manifested by the destruction of the "cities of the plains"--even "sodom and gomorrah," as also the destruction of those who offered incense upon strange altars. now as this volume of flame, denominated the _sun_, is the _only_ source of fire; and as fire seems to us one of the controlling elements of nature, and pervades all things, and god rained down fire and destroyed those cities, and also sent down fire and destroyed those who offered incense on a strange altar, we plainly see where the fire is that is to be the punishment of the wicked. that it is said "fire came down from heaven," or "out of heaven," does not vitiate, but rather confirms our hypothesis. for god is omnipresent, and dwells in _all_ heavens, and, from that region, _that permanent source of fire_, he commanded--doubtless--the concentration of the rays of the sun, and it thus came at his command from heaven, and fell as flame of fire. but to prove that our hypothesis as to the location of hell is correct, we direct your mind again to the narrative of the saviour, of the rich man in _hell_, and lazarus in abraham's bosom. that abraham was in heaven no one can doubt, while we are plainly told that the rich man was "_in hell_," and, although "afar off," yet within speaking distance. how far distant the voice of _spirit_ can be heard, no one in mortality can know. we know that on this earth sound is limited because of the density of the atmosphere, and we realize even here that when the atmosphere is the more rarified, the greater the distance of sound. it is computed that the condensed, or earth-atmosphere, extends outward from the earth about forty miles. when we have passed this stratum, and have gained space in the _ethereal atmosphere_, it may be possible that the same volume of voice we are accustomed to here, might be heard thousands, or even millions of miles distant from us. heat rarifies atmosphere as we here realize by the influence of the sun. if the addition of a few rays of the sun will dissipate the dense clouds, and so materially rarify our atmosphere at the distance of ninety-five millions of miles, what may we suppose the condition of the atmosphere ninety millions of miles nearer its source? therefore, we may readily believe that although dives, and abraham, were far apart--possibly thousands of miles--yet they could see and converse with each other. you will remember that astronomers inform us that there seems a volume of non-luminous atmosphere, or void, between the outer phostosphere of fire and the body of that _inner globe_ (which globe we believe is heaven). now remember the words of father abraham, "beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulph fixed; so that they who would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us that would come from thence." is not here conclusive evidence that the two places--heaven and hell--are not in far distant regions from each other? _remember._ it is said of the wicked "these shall go away into outer darkness, there shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth." when death and hell shall give up their dead (for the souls of the wicked--who are dead in trespasses and in sin--are still enduring that death that never dies), and all appear before the judgment seat of christ, where "every one shall receive according to the deeds done in the body," and the wicked are "driven from god, and from the glory of his power," to reach again their eternal destiny, they will doubtless pass through that dark void, even that "great gulph fixed between," and there _will_ be weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. * * * * * although we believe the evidence furnished is conclusive beyond cavil or doubt to every intelligent mind, yet we will still add more affirmative arguments which we desire that all should consider. first, let us refer again to the declarations--we have several times repeated--of the prophets and apostles. that heaven, and the holy city in it, hath no need of the light of the _sun_. that the "glory of god doth lighten it, and the lamb is the light thereof." that there is no night there, but one eternal day. now let us call to your mind the _extent_ of that empire wherein _the sun does not shine_. from astronomical measurement, we may form in our minds an approximation of its dimensions. to fix for it a low estimate, we may safely conclude that the domain proper, is at least _five hundred thousand miles_ in diameter, and _one million five hundred thousand miles around it_. the empire is vast indeed, so great that, by comparison, we can form no correct idea of it. we can only approximate by saying that it would require about _one million of earths_, the size of this, to make a globe of equal magnitude. in order to bring all home to your own reason and comprehension, let us ask, where else is it feasible for so large a place to _be_ whereon, or into which the _sun_, or _suns_, do not or _cannot shine_? we have shown you that suns (the surrounding volumes of photospheric ethereal fire) are--so far as we can comprehend--the natural sources of light throughout the universe of jehovah's empire. they seem as god's own _eternal lamps_, scattered and placed at his will in different regions of illimitable space, to illumine the universe without, and give _light everywhere_, as also life and animation to all their surrounding worlds. each perhaps to its own, even as our sun does to its own planet-worlds. now when we consider that the fact is well established by all leading astronomers that this outside flame or volume of fire is _far out_ from that inner globe, or world, and that between them _there is a void_, possibly thousands of miles in depth; that the fires and light of the _sun_ have no perceptible effect upon this non-luminous void--and, indeed, the void shields the globe within from the light and heat of the sun--we can readily imagine the wise arrangement of the great architect, and also comprehend the truth of his own declarations, that heaven is a place where neither the sun nor its heat shall light upon its inhabitants. now the nature of the _element_ of this intervening void or space, whether _it_ is _ethereal_ or not, we cannot now comprehend. that it is a safe covering or shield to the world within, we can readily suppose. for sir john herschel says that it seems as "an awning or screen, protecting the body," or world within, from the sun's heat. but we are not left to conjecture alone, without philosophical reason in this matter. we know the laws of gravitation and attraction are fixed and sure, and upon these universal laws we can base correct conclusions. the tendency of fire or heat is _outward_ and _upward_. the sense in which we use the term "upward" is that of space far out from the earth, or like solid bodies. we have shown, in our explanation of the law of gravitation, that _upward_ is simply away from the earth. thus, we ignite material with fire and produce combustion here, and we see the flame _rise_, and feel and know the heat ascends _upward_. so also may the chinaman do the same, at the same moment, on the opposite side of the globe--while his position is directly under us, as we construe downward--and yet the flame and heat of his fire ascends _upward_ from the earth where he stands, which is in a directly opposite direction from the course ours pursues. thus, to us, outward from the earth is _upward_, no matter where our position on it. this tendency of heat upward, or away from the base of the fire, is plainly evident by the fact that heat will not penetrate to any considerable depth _downward_, neither when on the earth, or on a solid non-combustible foundation; nor yet when on an elevated platform, for its tendency, as we have shown, is always outward or upward. so also with the fires of the _sun_; whatever the base of its fires may be, we see by the fixed laws of nature that the tendency of its heat is _outward_, no matter from what portion of that base it may emanate. we cannot now comprehend the _nature_ of the base of the sun's fires, but we know that the great jehovah has provided it, and that it is founded in his wisdom, and is fixed and sure, and we have reasoned conclusively that it cannot be of combustible material. hence, the only rational conclusion we can arrive at--from a thorough investigation of divine revelations; from all the lights afforded by the science of astronomy; from the true philosophy of nature, as well as from all that is visible and perceptible--is, that far within the circling photosphere of ethereal fire which we see and realize as the _sun_, there is a solid body, a globe, a vast world, and that world is the heaven for all the righteous from this earth; that it is the saviour's allotted empire, and that he is there the ruler of his people. _the nature of the light of the heavenly world._ "_the glory of god doth lighten it, and the lamb is the light thereof._" we have given the above scripture quotation repeatedly in these pages, in order to forcibly impress the minds of all with the fact that the light of the heavenly world is _different_ from the light of the sun; that it far transcends it in _brightness_. for we are told that it "is far above the brightness of the sun shining in its strength," even "_seven-fold brighter than the sun_." let us contemplate what has been revealed of this "glory light." first. no _mortal_ ever has beheld the full radiance of the face, or glory of god. for he hath said that no one should see his face and live. in evidence of this, when moses, who was so near him, and desired so much to behold his face unveiled, prayed to him saying: "i _beseech thee_, show me thy glory." there came an answer unto him. "_thou canst not see my face, for there shall no man see me and live._" and in order to preserve the life of moses, god placed him in the "cleft of a rock" and covered him with his hand while his glory was passing by. others have desired to see god, and the brightness of his glory, yet such desire, while in mortality, is wrong, for none could behold it and live. it is recorded of trajan, the emperor of rome, that he accosted rabbi joshua, saying: "you teach that your god is everywhere, now i should like to see him." joshua replied, "he cannot be seen, no mortal eye can behold his glory." the emperor, however, persisted, contending that if he was everywhere, he could surely be seen, and thus derided the doctrine taught by joshua. "well," said the rabbi, "let us try first to look at one of his ambassadors." to this trajan consented. joshua then led him forth into the open air at noon-day, and bade him "look at the _sun_." the emperor replied: "i cannot, for its light dazzles, and will _blind me_." then replied joshua, "if thou art unable to endure the light of one of his creatures, how canst thou expect to be able to behold the resplendent glory of the creator? _the sight would annihilate thee._" thus we find that in every representation of the "glory of god," its light is beyond our comprehension, and so overpowering that no mortal could behold it and live. we have, however, a feeble representation of this glory manifested by his son. when saul, of tarsus, was on his way to damascus, to persecute the disciples and followers of christ, behold, at mid-day, a light, _above the brightness of the sun_, shone around him and his band, and they all fell to the earth, and their leader was smitten with blindness, which continued for three days, and was only then relieved by the agencies which the saviour appointed. when first smitten, hearing a voice that was not of earth, he exclaimed, "lord, who art thou?" the answer was, "i am jesus whom thou persecutest." when the beloved disciple john beheld the son of man, walking in the midst of the golden candlesticks, the light and influence was so overpowering, that he "_fell at his feet as dead_." thus we have a faint prelude of the light of the glory of god. yet no one in mortality can behold it, even in a veiled form. but the strength of the _spirit-eye_ will enable us to behold the king in all his glory, "for we shall see him as he is." _that heavenly world._ we need not stand on pisgah's height, nor climb to the summit of the andes, to catch a glimpse of that "heavenly world." but, grasping the telescope of _faith_, and looking through _revelations_, the humblest christian, "low down in the valley," may see through the storm-clouds and tempests of life--yea, even through the "shadow of death"--and gaze with rapture upon the enchanting scene. the light of the _sun_ pales without, as the flood-light of that _inner world_ breaks upon the eye. there is the resplendent "glory of god," shining with unequalled radiance and beauty. to the spirit-eye it is not blinding, neither will it even dim the sight. fear not, ye feeble followers of the blessed redeemer, to approach--even now--by faith and contemplation, the confines of that bright world; even though it is within that encircling photosphere of _ethereal fire_. there is no danger, for by-and-by that bright world will be your place of habitation. when the winged messenger comes and escorts you away from your earthly "prison-house," he will conduct you to that bright world, where "an abundant entrance shall be administered unto you" by your blessed saviour. remember it is written in the "sacred volume": "_the voice of god divideth the flame;_" and he hath said: "_i will be as a wall of fire._" "_when thou goest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flames kindle upon thee._" "_enter thou into the joys of thy lord._" no such flames within. "_the sun shall not light on thee; nor any heat;_" and yet there is a resplendent light, even the "glory of god," which illumines the great city and all the vast realm. "_there is no night there_," but one eternal day; and when thou hast entered, "_the days of thy mourning shall be ended._" but hold heavenward the telescope of _faith_; let us, through the lights of revelation, endeavor to get a slight panoramic view. the inspired poet caught a glimpse before us. hear him exclaim: "there, on those wide extended plains, shines one eternal day; there god the son forever reigns, and scatters night away." behold! spread out before us is the wide expanse of a glorious universe. see in the distance those hills and towering mountains; those beautiful valleys and wide-extending plains. see the innumerable "set thrones," and, in the midst of all, "the great white throne!" and he who sits thereon is the son of god, who reigns, and is the ruler of this vast empire. see "before the throne a sea of glass like unto crystal," and around about the throne "four-and-twenty elders in raiment of white, with crowns of gold," while all around is "a rainbow, in sight like unto an emerald," or grand _empyrean_ covering resplendent with the light of the "glory of god." see that fountain of the "river of life" gushing from beneath the throne, and flowing on and on, meandering amidst mountains and hills, and through vast plains and beautiful valleys. see the crystal fountains playing on every hand, and whose waters are forever sparkling in the light of eternal day. see the towering forest trees and shady "groves of heaven," placed there by the "word" of the creator, during past cycles of eternity, and long before time commenced, their rich foliage presenting every variegated hue, their boughs laden with all manner of precious fruit suited for spiritual food, and their seasons for bearing are now and forever. but see yonder, near the base of that towering mountain,--whose summit seems to mount up a thousand miles high, and whose towering forests are waving in the gentle breezes of heaven, and, with all things else, seem but to reflect the light of the "glory of god;"--that vast plain spreading out from its base is the "garden of the lord." its extent is even greater than that of our whole earth. it is filled with trees bearing fruits; with shrubbery, and ten thousand times ten thousand various and variegated flowers perennially blooming. see the vast multitude of saints, attended by angels, as they meander through its labyrinths, culling choicest flowers, or lingering under "native bowers" or amid shady groves. no old age or decrepitude; no gray hairs to distinguish ages. the old seers and prophets; neither are adam nor methuselah, who dwelt on the earth nearly a thousand years, known here by age; neither do our own aged fathers and mothers show here any signs of decrepitude or advanced years, but, even as their own children--our brothers, our sisters, our husbands, our wives, and _our own children_, who have found an inheritance here--all are as in the bloom of youth and maturity, and will thus remain forever through succeeding cycles of eternity. ah! methinks, amid that vast multitude you espy a father, a mother, a sister, a brother, companion or child, or some dear, loved friends from earth, who are now _radiant with beauty_ in that "paradise of god," and that you would fain drop mortality, and, on _spirit-wings_ of love, go and join them and be forever at rest. wait, _not now_; but if you have sought and found the "pearl of price," and are abiding in the "_love of god_," you, too, will get there by-and-by. remember afflicted job, who "knew his record was in heaven," yet with all this perceptive knowledge, hear him meekly say: "_all my appointed time will i wait, until my change cometh_," and "_though he slay me, yet will i trust in him_." but while we have in hand the "telescope of faith" and the revelations of god as our light, let us change its direction a little, and add a new grasping power. see! behold the "city of god" of which "glorious things were spoken,"--even the city of which john had a panoramic view while "in the spirit" on the isle of patmos. see its glittering "_jasper_ walls" as they loom up in the glory-light _fifteen hundred miles high_; and whose foundations are _fifteen hundred miles square_, covering a superficial extent of _two millions two hundred and fifty thousand square miles_. see! "its foundations are garnished with all manner of precious stones," and there are "twelve vast gates of entrance, and the twelve gates are twelve pearls: every several gate is one pearl." those gates are now thrown wide open, never to be shut again, for it is the "city of habitation" for the redeemed from earth, and hundreds are arriving from our world every minute of time. see! "its walls are of pure gold--even as jasper," while "its streets are paved with gold transparent as glass." see its vast arches, minarets and towers, and its palatial mansions. remember the blessed saviour said, when about to leave our earth, "_in my father's house are many mansions_;" and added, "_i go to prepare a place for you, that where i am, there ye may be also_." some of our friends have homes in those beautiful mansions. * * * * * it is enough. our vision of these enchanting scenes is ended, and we are left to contemplate them in mind until our "appointed time" shall come, and then if we are ready when our "lord and master calls," we, too, shall find a permanent home with the "redeemed of the lord" in that "_heavenly world_," and then with st. paul, we may see "the glory which shall be revealed." _the dimensions and capacity of the city--there is room for all, and to spare._ "_and the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth; and he measured the city with a reed, twelve thousand furlongs. the length and the breadth and the height of it are equal._" rev. xxi. twelve thousand furlongs constitutes, by our measurement, , miles. thus we see that the city lieth four-square, and its height is equal to its length or breadth of foundation. the base surface covers a superficial extent of , , square miles. the extent of the city will give us over , , , cubic miles. one cubic mile alone will afford measurement of space for over , , rooms feet square, and the entire square of the city would afford about , , , , , rooms of similar dimensions. but we are not justifiable in the belief other than that it is a city of vast proportions, and one of grandeur and beauty. we are told that it is a "city of many mansions." let us therefore contemplate it in this light, and estimate that only _one-fiftieth_ portion of its vast space is occupied by mansions; the balance open space, streets, avenues, and courts. such mansions would thus afford over , , , , , rooms feet square. we will now compute the number of inhabitants who have lived and died on the earth for , years past; the number living on it at present, and estimate how long of future time would be required to furnish one soul to occupy each room. it is estimated that there are at present , , , , and that this number die during each period of thirty years. now if all should find a home there, it would require more than _thirty millions of years_, at the same ratio, to furnish one soul for each room thus computed in those mansions. and if we estimate that only _one-hundredth_ part of the space is occupied by mansions, it would even then require , , of years to thus people them. but we are assured that the wicked shall not enter there. that "wide is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat." we are therefore led to the inevitable conclusion, that by far the larger number of those who have lived and died on this earth, have failed to find their home in that "city of which glorious things are spoken." contemplating, as we have, the vast magnitude of that city, we are justifiable in the conclusion that there is ample provision of mansions there, as the dwelling-place for other intelligences beside those from this earth; probably the home and abode of the angels; possibly, for inhabitants of the other planets belonging to the same solar system with our own earth, as all receive light and animation from the same sun, and all are governed and controlled by the load-stone power of attraction of that vast globe. again, may it not be that all that has been revealed to us, is simply that which relates to _our_ future habitation, and that the city we have been contemplating is for the abode of the righteous from this earth? may there not be many other cities of equal, or even greater magnitude within that vast empire--even one such allotted to the inhabitants of _each separate planet_, and that each may have a king and ruler provided by the creator of all? for all that we can comprehend of _our_ saviour--who is to be our king and ruler--is, that he came from god the father to ransom the inhabitants of this earth, and offer life and salvation to all who should believe in him "with a heart unto righteousness." remember, he said, "_in my father's house are many mansions._" and added, "_i go to prepare a place for_ you, _that where i am there ye may be also._" the new testament scriptures teach the sublime truth that the great interest of our blessed saviour is the salvation and happiness of those whom he denominates his children from this earth; those for whom he died, and who shall believe in him "unto everlasting life." hence, from all his teachings we believe this suggested hypothesis correct. the psalmist says, "_there are set thrones of judgment_," while the apostles speak of "_thrones and dominions; principalities and powers_." there is ample room in that "heaven" for all. _the native population of that heavenly world._ "the angels of god."--heb. . . so far as revealed to us by record of the bible, the original or native inhabitants of heaven are called "angels." these are also called "messengers of god," and from all the lights we have, it would seem that their principal occupation and employment is to act as messengers; execute the commands of jehovah, and to worship, and magnify the name of their creator. their perpetual residence, it seems, is in heaven, yet from the manifestations of repeated visits to our earth, we can but suppose they are god's messengers, oft sent to _other_ worlds to do his pleasure. it would seem that they are possessed of intellectuality next to jehovah himself, yet all knowledge is not given unto them. it also appears that there is a vast difference in their grades and positions. we read of archangels, of michael, and gabriel, of the sons of god. they are sometimes called "stars." thus, we read of "the morning stars which sang together." we also read of cherubim and seraphim. and it may be that some of the most exalted among them occupy thrones, and have control of "dominions," "principalities," and "powers." we are told that "michael and _his_ angels" fought the "great dragon and his angels." thus we see that they were the leaders, or had command over many angels. we are also justified in the belief that they are princes and peers, and belong to the court; possibly form the ministerial cabinet, and are attendants in the council chambers of heaven. we have seen, through revelations, how oft--under the earlier dispensation--they visited our earth, to bear messages from god to the prophets, and to his people; to warn or announce his threatenings, or execute his commands in judgments upon the wicked. as angels they are "_spirits_," and as commissioned "ministers" oft appeared as "_flames of fire_." from the revelations made to us, we know they are spiritual creatures of god, and that their nature is _immaterial_, or that they have existence in highly _etherealized_ bodies, which can be transported at pleasure to any remote or distant region of jehovah's empire, with a celerity surpassing--possibly--the flight of electricity itself. angels, as "_spirits_," are immortal, and hence will live forever. and thus also our own spirits must live forever, because derived from the _spirit-life_ of god. revelations furnish us abundant evidence of the _spirit_ nature of angels. they were oft present and speaking with the prophets, and were yet _invisible_, as also within doors where locks and bars precluded the possibility of substance, or of earth-life animation entering. and yet again, we have evidence of their appearing in tangible form, and could be seen, and felt, and we read of their being "entertained as men unawares." when, however, they appeared as _angels_, we learn that their bodily aspect was that of transcendent beauty; their face and form resplendent with light, and a halo, as of divinity itself, shone around them. it seems that angels have ever manifested a deep and abiding interest in behalf of our earth, and of man. we are told that they celebrated the creation of this world "with songs of praise and shouts of joy." at the time of the birth of the saviour, an angel from god appeared to the shepherds, who were watching their flocks by night, and announced the "glad tidings of great joy, and immediately there appeared with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly hosts" sounding loud the anthem of praise, "glory to god in the highest, peace on earth and good-will to men." how strange this incident! the tongues of men were silent in this the hour of dawn of their redemption, and the angels alone heralded the event, and sang the anthem of praise. an angel subsequently warned joseph to seek a place of safety for the "infant of days," as "herod, the king, would seek to destroy the young child's life." during the saviour's sojourn on earth, how oft did angels appear and minister unto him; even "strengthening him," when his human nature staggered under the load of the sins of a guilty world. and when--seemingly--the "star of bethlehem" had set, and the hope of the world seemed lost; when the promised messiah was entombed; when dismay seized upon, and thick darkness shrouded the minds of all who had followed the saviour; when even the marys who loved him, repaired at early dawn to shed their tears at his sepulchre: behold! "_the angel of the lord was there_;" had "rolled away the stone and sat upon it." he did not need to inquire their errand, but said unto them: "i know it is jesus whom ye seek, he is not here, for he is risen." oh, see what interest the angels have ever manifested in our behalf! "_are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto those who shall be the heirs of salvation?_" the vast number of the angels. "_an innumerable company of angels._" heb. xii. . of the number of the angels we can form no proper conception. that their numbers are very great, we have evidence through divine revelations. we are told that when the law was given from mount sinai, there was in attendance upon the great author of all "thousands of angels." daniel, speaking of their attendance upon the "ancient of days" says, "thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him." when the star appeared in the "east," and led the wise men to bethlehem where lay the promised hope of a perishing world, there appeared a multitude of the heavenly hosts, singing with sweet melody the anthem of redemption, and praises to god in the highest. when peter unsheathed his sword to smite the servant of the high priest who came to arrest his master, the saviour restrained him and said: "_thinkest thou that i cannot now pray to my father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels._" while st. paul speaks of an "innumerable company of angels in the heavenly jerusalem." amazing strength of angels. "_bless the lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word._"--ps. ciii. . of the amazing strength of angels, we can form no adequate conception. "god is a spirit," and by his spirit hath created all things. we have seen that his angels are spirits, and that these spirits are _ethereal_ in their nature, so far as finite mind can comprehend. and yet their strength is wonderful to contemplate. st. john represents them as holding the four winds of heaven, and controlling the elements with a supernatural power. commissioned by jehovah for the purpose, an angel destroyed seventy thousand people of the tribes of judah and israel in three days. and again, an angel destroyed, in one night, one hundred and eighty-five thousand of a mighty army. it would seem that by permission, or at command, they are capable of exercising a power almost omnipotent. in the last days, great power shall be given them. they shall pour out the vials of jehovah's wrath, smite earth and seas, cause the stars to fall, and even _chain the great dragon and cast him into the bottomless pit_. rapidity of movement of the angels. we will now consider another feature of the capacity of the angels, one that is fraught with deepest interest to the human mind, as it will give us some light of probabilities attending our future, when our spirits shall be released from our mortal bodies. this is the celerity, velocity, or rapidity of their movements. these celestial creatures seem to possess the power of transporting themselves with a celerity incomprehensible to finite mind. that it is equal, even if not more rapid than _electricity_, we cannot doubt. we incline to the opinion, however, that the velocity of their movement is, at pleasure, the same as that of the flight of _electricity_; and so also with our spirits, after leaving the body. no one can fully comprehend the _nature_ of electricity. we know that it exists, and to some extent we can control and use it as an agency for useful purposes; yet it is an existing element in nature, even as fire is. we may concentrate and use it, and we may profess to understand the combination of agencies which produce it. yet all resolves itself back again into the simple fact that it is an _element existing in nature_, and its source is that of all else--the great first cause of all things. electricity is of more rapid flight than any other element or agency we can--even partially--comprehend in nature. if we had a wire laid around this earth, it is estimated that a current of _electricity_ would belt the globe in about the _tenth part_ of a second of time, or travel at nearly the speed of _three hundred thousand miles_ a second, and would reach the sun--_ninety-five millions of miles distant_--in a fraction over _five minutes of time_. the discovery and application of electricity is the most wonderful phenomenon that has ever been grasped by the human intellect, and we contend it is one of jehovah's _invisible_ agencies in nature, which he has permitted man to comprehend in part, and thus to prepare the mind to comprehend more fully the infinity of his power, and the nature of our relation to him. hitherto, even the mind of faith has stood bewildered in regard to the transit of the soul, after death, to the place of its future habitation. astronomers, by the aid of that wonderful gift of god to man--the telescope--have penetrated the borders of the far-distant sidereal regions; have caught rays of light which, it is now rendered probable, left their native nebulæ, or suns, more than _five hundred thousand years_ ago, and have travelled at the rate of , miles a second ever since, and are now successively beaming upon the assisted eye. now, it would require more than _three hundred thousand years_ for a current of electricity to travel thence, even at the rate of , miles each second of time. and yet, although far distant regions have been penetrated and partially surveyed, still, nowhere within the trackless and boundless domain of illimitable space have astronomers descried an object which they could denominate "heaven." we say, considering all these circumstances, and that it would require three hundred thousand years, travelling with the rapidity of three hundred thousand miles a second, to reach the extent of space surveyed by the eye through the telescope, and yet the supposition that heaven was still _far out beyond_; the mind of faith has ever been bewildered as to the locality of the place, and of the time, or period of eternity required to reach it. and yet it was right and proper that christians should hold firm to faith in god; that he _had_ provided a place of happiness for his people, and also provided the necessary agencies for transporting them thither. but now, when we consider that every blessing vouchsafed to man is derived from heaven, or the sun--which is god's agency--when we have contemplated the nature of god's manifestations in the bestowment of his blessings, and visitations of his judgments; when we see how soon, at his bidding, his messengers can descend from heaven to earth to execute his commands, and the daily intimate relations in ancient times between his angels residing in heaven, and his prophets and people on earth; how instantaneously they were present when emergency demanded--for when "daniel bowed, and his prayer went up to heaven, the angel gabriel came with the answer from god while he was still on his knees, and yet speaking,"--and accepting the hypothesis we have laid, that our heaven is the vast globe descried by astronomers within that encircling photosphere of ethereal fire, which is denominated the "sun," our veiled faith of the past takes a sudden bound and lights upon--an almost _fully revealed reality_; we can now partially comprehend the mode, and short space of time required for the transit of our immortal spirits to that heavenly world. it is reasonable to suppose that spirit can pass with the velocity of electricity, and travelling thus, we have seen that to reach that world within the sun, will require but about _five minutes_. well hath the apostle said, "to be absent from the body, is to be present with the lord." there are fixed laws, and a certain _reality_, in all things pertaining unto jehovah and his vast creations throughout his own universe, and it is not unreasonable to suppose that he has designed that we should comprehend his laws relating to us, and thereby understand his own plain revelations. we therefore believe that reason, founded upon revelations, sustains our hypothesis, as to the location of heaven--as also of hell--and that the spirit of god is--in some of its offices--as _fire_. and we cannot doubt but that, henceforth, these views will be sustained by the intelligence of the world; and that still more of seeming mystery will be comprehended, and new light opened to the mind upon the subject, while all will tend to the glory of god, and the salvation of the human family. _certainty of a resurrection._ st. paul, the apostle of the gentiles, says: "_if in this life only we have hope in christ, we are of all men most miserable._" no wonder that he came to such conclusion, when he knew that kings, rulers, and the populace were overwhelmingly against the few disciples and followers of the lord jesus christ, and that persecutions, bonds, imprisonment, and even violent death were in store for many of them. but hear him again: "since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection from the dead. the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. "now i say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of god. behold, i show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. for this corruption must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. death shall be swallowed up in victory. thanks be to god, which giveth us the victory through our lord jesus christ." that there will be a resurrection of our spiritual bodies, is plainly taught in the old and in the new testament scriptures. we have already shown this conclusively in our opening chapter on "the immortality of the soul, and a future state of existence." but had doubts remained in the minds of any, we think st. paul--as quoted above--removes them, and sets the matter at rest. st. john, the revelator, tells us that while in the spirit, the scene of the judgment was brought before his vision. he says: "and i saw the dead, small and great, stand before god, and the books were opened, and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works." now we understand that this general judgment will be at the close of the time allotted to this world. whether that period is far remote or near at hand, no one knoweth save god himself; "no, not even the angels of heaven." but as to that time, it matters not, so far as salvation and a condition of happiness to the righteous is concerned, nor to the wicked, as regards future punishment. revelations and the word of god establish the fact that as soon as the soul, or spirit leaves the body, it enters upon its future and final condition, whether of happiness or misery, "lazarus died, and was carried by the angels to abraham's bosom. the rich man also died and was buried, and in hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torment." the saviour, while suspended upon the cross, manifested his pardoning and saving power to the thief, forgave his sins, accepted him, and said: "to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise." under the circumstances--the extreme sufferings and agonies the saviour was enduring at the time--some have cavilled at this exhibition of grace and pardoning mercy to the dying thief. let it be remembered, his mission was to save sinners. and that it is written, "believe on the lord jesus christ, and thou shalt be saved." here is a plain exhibition of the possibility, and plan of salvation to _all_. this thief had sinned; and had also violated the laws of his country, and in rebuking his fellow culprit in crime--who had reviled the saviour--he acknowledged his own guilt by saying, "this man suffereth innocently; yet we are guilty, and justly deserve our punishment." indeed, he seemed to be the _first_ to comprehend christ's kingdom, and the plan of salvation through faith in him. by faith, he grasped the hope, then springing from the cross whereon the saviour hung, and penitently cried unto the redeemer of the world, "lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom." see this flash of light in the midst of spiritual darkness, dismay, and surrounding gloom--even the light of immortality and eternal life! all the followers had forsaken the dying redeemer, and those who had been his acknowledged disciples were fleeing in dismay, and even peter denied his lord and master with an oath. the hope of the world's deliverance; through the messiah, seemed lost. yet here was one--even a poor dying thief--whose faith penetrated the veil, and _he_ saw that christ's kingdom was not of this world. he believed on the lord jesus christ, and the promise made to all who believe in him; with a heart unto righteousness, was vouchsafed to him. we look upon this as the strongest exhibition of faith the world had ever yet known. and we think the evidence conclusive, that as soon as the soul leaves the body--this tenement of clay--it enters at once upon its future condition of happiness, or of misery. of the certainty of the final resurrection of our bodies--changed and transformed into spiritual bodies--and of a general judgment, the scripture revelations are plain and conclusive. may we not therefore, for a few moments, contemplate the eventful, and, to some, the pleasant, yet to others the startling scene? that the bodies of some who lived on this earth have already undergone this great, and to us mysterious change of "corruption putting on incorruption," and "mortal putting on immortality," we cannot doubt. this seems manifest in the case of elijah, and so also, as seems evident, with moses. and it will be remembered that these two appeared in their heavenly vestments; bright and shining, and stood with the saviour when he was transfigured on the mount. so also at the time of the crucifixion of the son of god. when, at the last moment of his expiring agony he cried to his father, with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost; the earth did quake, and the rocks were rent, and the graves were opened, "and many bodies of the saints that slept arose." and to make this--seeming mystery--more clear to those he had commissioned to preach his everlasting gospel--the power of which should be the resurrection from the dead--the saviour himself, after his body had risen from the grave, appeared unto them--his disciples--and thus gave them a _visible manifestation_ of this wondrous truth, and re-commissioned them to go forth into all the world and proclaim _his own resurrection_, and that by repentance and faith all might come to a _resurrection of life_. _the resurrection._ therefore, behold, the time cometh when "all that are in their graves, shall hear his voice"--even the voice of god--and the angel shall sound the trumpet, and its tones of melody and the voice of love will move earth and seas, from centre to circumference, and awake into immortal life the decayed bodies and mouldering dust of his sleeping children. "for the dead in christ shall rise first," and "blessed are they who have part in the first resurrection, for on such the second death hath no power." "they shall have a right to the tree of life." see the myriads of sepulchres and graves opening, and saints rising in the light of the "glory of god," and millions of the sheeted dead--who have slept beneath the bosom of "deep blue seas;" in the depths of oceans, or were swept away by floods and flowing rivers--rising and riding in triumph upon the swelling, bright-crested waves which sparkle in the resplendent glory-light of heaven. "see these all arrayed in white, brighter than the noon-day sun." these come forth at their creator's call, and now at his bidding, the happy reunion of the long separated partners--souls and bodies--takes place, and the vast realm resounds with shouts of triumph and songs of praise. while the "_morning stars_" who sang the _pean_ of creation, and the angelic host--who celebrated in the hill-country of judea, the advent of the saviour on earth to ransom fallen man--join in melody and again swell the loud anthem, "glory to god in the highest!" then shall be repeated the saying which was written, "o death, where is thy sting? o grave, where is thy victory?" "thanks be to god who giveth us the victory through our lord jesus christ." and, ascending again with their resurrected glorified bodies, the voice of the archangel gabriel--who sounded their resurrection trumpet--will be heard from the portal of heaven, throughout the vast domain. behold they come! we would fain close this chapter with these delightful reflections, and leave the minds of all free from fearful apprehensions, and happy in the contemplation of a future resurrection to the enjoyment of a blissful immortality and eternal life. but the laws of god are stern and inflexible in their requirements; his judgments sure; his revelations plain, and all are in duty bound to contemplate them. we have told you that at his _call_ "the righteous shall come forth to a resurrection of life." and now we have to record the fact that--at his _command_--"the wicked shall come forth to a resurrection of damnation." to contemplate or depict the scene startles the mind, and baffles and beggars the human intellect. we fancy a death-like silence prevails throughout the earth and seas, and the vast domain of heaven. songs of triumph, and shouts of joy, of both saints and angels, have ceased for one hour of eternity. the judge ascends his throne, from which to issue his command. the four and twenty elders remove their glittering crowns of gold, and bow before him. moses and elijah, and all the prophets, apostles, and martyrs are there. there the redeemed of the lord--whom no man can number--are assembled with legions of angels. all bow before the lord, and "there is silence in heaven." hark! the command was given! the voice of the final judgment-trumpet; in thunder tones, waxes louder and louder! and seems to shake heaven itself, with its surrounding universe of worlds. it is the trumpet-voice of the "wrath of god" summoning the wicked of a sin-cursed world, to arise and come to judgment. see! the earth is convulsed from the centre to its circumference, and is "rocking to and fro, as a drunken man." graves are opening on every hand, and from all the earth, from deep dark seas and oceans' depths, behold the pale, _ghastly_ multitudes coming forth, filled with terror and dismay. mountains are sinking, and valleys rising, like surgings of contending billows; and their rocky foundations, though ten thousand feet deep, are breaking into fragments! a tempest of god's fiery indignation is smiting the earth! hear the muttering thunders of the judgment storm! see the dread lightnings flashing amidst the surrounding gloom! the internal magazine-fires of the earth are belching forth their molten lava, which is lifting the deep foundations of seas and oceans into mountain-peaks, and rolling _fiery billows_. see! behold! the universal conflagration of the world! seas, oceans, and all the earth, one vast sheet of _flame_. while the angel (which john saw) "_standing in the sun_" calls in thunder tones, arise ye dead and come to judgment! and then swears by him, that liveth forever and ever, "time shall be no longer." the unnumbered millions of resurrected bodies of the wicked would fain refuse a reunion with their long lost souls, and fall back and be consumed or annihilated by the raging elements. but now, for the wicked there is no place of safety. they refused the refuge once freely offered them in the "cleft side of the redeemer," and trifled away their days of grace, and now the stern reality of the threatened judgment is upon them. their souls, perhaps, have already suffered for thousands of years in fiery torments, and now death and hell give up their dead to a reunion, that all may receive their final sentence from the "judge of quick and dead" to depart and "dwell in everlasting burnings." in their direful extremity they would fain "flee from the presence of god." hear them calling upon the fiery whirlwind-tempest of rocks, and moving mountains "to fall on them, and hide them from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the lamb," and crying aloud, "behold! the great day of his wrath has come; who shall be able to stand?" yet these fragments of a convulsed and dismembered universe are restrained from performing such office of mercy, and by the word--which created them--are hurled back into the raging chaotic storm, to "melt with fervent heat" and mingle with the elements in the convulsive throes of a _wrecked world_, which is being consumed by the "spirit-fires" of jehovah's wrath. "and the sea gave up the dead which were in it, and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and i saw the dead small and great stand before god, and they were judged according to their works. and death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. this is the second death. and whosoever was not found written in the book of life, was cast into the lake of fire; and the same shall drink of the wine of the wrath of god, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation. and i saw an angel standing in the sun. and the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun, and power was given unto him to scorch men with fire; and men were scorched with great heat. and they shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels, and in the presence of the lamb, and the smoke of their torment ascendeth up forever and ever." _a serious contemplation._ the contemplation of the final judgment, and the sentence to be passed upon the wicked, is truly a solemn one, and should startle every mind, but oh, how few, comparatively, seem to stop and reflect upon this momentous subject? and yet _all_ are rapidly hastening on to their final doom. few are aware of the vast numbers that are passing from time into eternity--even each year, each month, each day each hour, or each minute. we will here state the numbers, as well ascertained, or approximated, by the ablest staticians of the world. they tell us there is one death for every second of time, every minute; , every hour; , every day; , , every month; , , every year, and a number equal to the entire population of the globe, _viz._: _one thousand millions_ every thirty years. and we are forced to the conclusion, that by far the larger portion of adults pass away without any conscious knowledge of the plan of salvation, or a tenable hope of heaven. reader, stop and reflect. no matter what your age, your condition of health, or in life, you, too, must soon know the realities of your future; your eternal state of existence. we have heard the remark from the ungodly, that if they failed to reach heaven, they would, at least, "be with a large crowd." yes, we have no doubt of it. for we read of "legions of devils," and there will also be legions from _earth_ to be tormented by them. now we appeal to the reason of every intelligent mind, can you expect to enjoy happiness in your eternal existence, amid devouring flames? we learn that devils are fallen angels. once they enjoyed happiness in that heavenly world, and were, doubtless, god's messengers; oft sent to different regions of his empire to do his pleasure. yet viewing the grandeur and glory of god, it appears that the great dragon--who had the control of many angels--enlisted them to sustain him in some unlawful usurpation. this was resisted by michael and his angels, "and there was war in heaven." michael and his angels prevailed, and the great dragon, "that old serpent called the devil, and satan, was cast out, and his angels were cast out with him;" "neither was their place found any more in heaven." these, we learn, are the wicked spirits, which go to and fro, up and down, through the earth, tempting man to sin, and to do wickedly. satan is the prince of the powers of darkness, and he and his minions are ever arrayed against the prince of life and salvation. and man as a free moral agent--having life and death set before him--is left the free choice as to whom he will serve. if your choice be the god who created all things by the word of his power, and whose glory is the light of eternal day, serve him. but if baal, the prince of darkness, whose reign is terror and death, then serve him. "ye cannot serve two masters at once." remember! when death shall come and claim you for its victim, with the cessation of mortal life, there is cessation of all the sensations and faculties of your _human nature_. you will not be moved upon to the enjoyment of pleasure by human passions or desires. these, as realized here, will forever cease, and the spirit can no more be controlled by flesh and blood, nor by human desires. yet that immortal principle--the soul--will be susceptible of ineffable happiness, or of intense misery. will it be any comfort or pleasure to you to know that others are, like yourself, doomed to suffer eternal torments? to witness their agonies, and hear their wailings in that pandemonium of the lost? think for a moment, of the rich man--dives--who realized those torments. no hope for him in the future; his day of probation had passed; his eternal state was fixed; yet he prayed father abraham to send lazarus back to this world, to warn his five brethren, lest they also should come to that place of torment. remember, that as death leaves the body, so judgment finds the soul, for the prophet has warned you that, "there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest." _the final judgment._ "_the lord shall endure forever, he hath prepared his throne for judgment." "we shall all stand before the judgment-seat of christ." "then every one of us shall give an account of himself to god."_ _"and i saw the dead, small and great, stand before god; and the books were opened, * * * and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works."_ _"then shall the king say unto them on his right hand: come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;" * * * "an entrance shall be administered unto you abundantly;" * * * "enter ye in through the gates into the city;" * * * "enter thou into the joy of thy lord."_ _"then shall he say also unto them on his left hand: depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." "these shall go into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal."_ _a home in heaven._ our pilgrimage on earth is one of unrest, is one of toil, sorrow, and affliction. here we have no abiding place, "no continuing city." our "days on earth are few, and are full of trouble." there is no permanency here. from the time of the first infant breath and short unconscious slumber on a mother's bosom to the latest hour and moment of life, we are ever restless and moving onward, and endure all the disquietude and sufferings of mind and body incident to our mortal existence. the original sin of our first parents, blighted all hope of permanence or enduring happiness on this earth. at the time of their fall, god pronounced as to our existence here, saying: "cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life; thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee. in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return to the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return." "and the spirit shall return to god who gave it." yet to the true and faithful followers of the blessed redeemer--who ransomed the world by the pouring out of his own blood, and opened up a way whereby we may escape the further penalties of a violated law--rest will come by-and-by. "there is rest for the weary," and mansions prepared for them in the "city of god," in that better world. remember, the saviour said: "i go to prepare a place for you, that where i am there ye may also be. to him that overcometh will i give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the paradise of god. the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and i will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but i will confess his name before my father and before his angels. he that overcometh shall inherit all things, and i will be his god, and he shall be my son." "whosoever will, let him come." "i will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the _water of life_ freely." "they shall live for ever and ever." there the redeemed of the lord shall, with their blessed saviour, "inherit the kingdom," where the glory of god illumines the "city," and throws its radiance over all the vast realm. o what a delightful place for a permanent "_home!_" how singularly different it contrasts with our residence on earth. here we have to endure toil, pain, and death; there, rest, happiness, and eternal life. see here the care-worn, weary husband, toiling and striving against contending billows and waves of misfortune, to earn a support for a helpless, dependent family; perhaps his strivings are the more difficult because of pain of body or anguish of mind. disease in some form may be preying upon his vitality, even through long years of existence, and he knows that it will eventually conquer, and consign him to his grave. or, if bodily health prevails, the mind may be tortured and distracted at witnessing the sufferings of a beloved wife, or children, as one by one they are smitten down or snatched away by death; or still more poignant the grief and anguish he endures because of the alienation of affections, or family tumults, of strifes and contentions. see that wife and mother lingering by the bedside of a devoted, yet now dying husband, or clasping to her tortured and heaving bosom the lifeless form of a beloved child, and yet powerless to save the one or call back the other. these are the heart-struggling in the tempest of life. soon they will be over. a few years more, at most, and then all will be still; this mortality will be silent in the grave. but of that "home in heaven." "glorious things are spoken of thee, o city of god." there love, peace, and joy forever reigns. there is the "full fruition" and realization of "the hope of the glory of god." there "their lines have fallen to them in pleasant places." there they realize "fulness of joy," and their heritage "pleasures for evermore." there they find "that inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." there they have a home in an enduring city, whose foundations are eternal. there the palms of victory; and crowns of glory. there they walk the gold-paved streets of the city, or wander at pleasure in the 'garden of the lord,' or amidst forests green, or pleasant groves. there the crystal fountains play their sparkling waters in the light of eternal day, and the "river of life" flows "from beneath the throne of god," onward and onward, meandering through, and encircling the vast realm of that heavenly empire. there perennial spring, and never-fading flowers. there old age and decrepitude are never known, but all clothed upon with "garments of righteousness," will live and dwell in perpetual immortal youth, through the ever-recurring cycles of endless eternity. angels of god are there. the prophets, apostles, and martyrs are there; ministers of god are there; some of our kindred friends are there; others of them will _soon_ be there. the redeemed of earth, who were accepted of the lord are there, and the remainder of the "ransomed hosts," are now pressing on, or coming after, and _will all be there_, and form an innumerable company which no one can number, each can form pleasant associations there, never to be broken up, "for nothing shall disturb in all the holy mountains." reader, are you striving for that happy home? _conclusive and concluding argument._ the sun is held by all philosophers and astronomers to be the central pivot of the solar system, and the _loadstone power of attraction_, which governs, steadies, and controls all its surrounding planet-worlds in their orbits. so great is its power of attraction, that a counter-balancing force was necessary to keep the machinery of nature in order. this force is produced by the attracting power of the various planet-worlds, placed in proper positions in surrounding space, and thus furnishing the _centrifugal_, to counterbalance the _centripetal_ force _ascribed_ to the sun, by which means our earth, and the other planets, are kept whirling in their elliptical orbits, and thus each prevented from being drawn by the superior centripetal or attracting power of that globe into certain destruction by the fires of the _sun_. this is the hypothesis, we believe, of every philosopher and astronomer of the present day. now let us examine this hypothesis, and see if it does not foreshadow and sustain our own. in the first place, it is _true_ that the _"loadstone power of attraction" is there_: but it is _within_ what all denominate the sun, and by _this_ the surrounding planets are controlled. but this power _is not the sun_. for what all denominate the sun, is that which gives out light and heat. the sun is _fire_, _heat_, and _brightness_ or light. fire, or heat, is _ethereal_; has no such power of attraction: but on the contrary, is repelling and dissipating. there is no solid substance in fire; it is an invisible agency--save when it is concentrated. it would be an unreasonable hypothesis to conclude that the fires of the sun were fed on combustible material. the sun may have been just the same as it is now, for untold _billions of years_--possibly from all eternity--and god, by his word has revealed the fact that it will continue forever--even as long as his throne. hence, if produced by combustion, its material would be constantly wasting away, and, as prof. olmsted says, "the products of combustion would obscure its light." therefore, as there is no tangible source, and all agree that god himself was, and still is its source, we hold that our hypothesis, that it is a fixed volume of _photospheric-ethereal_, or _spirit-fire_, is correct. that it is one of jehovah's attributes; ever existing and performing its offices in creative and enduring nature; never increasing nor diminishing. now, this being the only reasonable, and--as we believe--correct hypothesis, of the origin, nature, and element of the _sun_--the sun being the brightness we see in looking at it--_where_ and _what is the loadstone power of attraction_, which reaches out millions of miles into space, and controls vast worlds, steadying each in its own orbital path, while they are flying round at the rate of from fifty thousand, to one hundred thousand miles an hour? we think the answer plain, and that all can comprehend it. this earth is a solid body, and _all such_ possess, within themselves, the power of attraction. therefore, the laws of nature reveal the fact to us, that _the great central and controlling power of attraction_ attributed to the _sun_, is the vast inner globe we have been contemplating; a globe, or world, more than a million times the size of this earth. leading astronomers have agreed on the existence of such a body within; and far separated--by a non-luminous atmosphere or void--from the outer _photosphere of ethereal fire_. that globe we hold is--_beyond a doubt_--the "heavenly world" spoken of throughout the holy scriptures, and is the final and eternal home of the righteous. we see wisdom displayed, and find law and order in every thing we comprehend which pertains to god and nature. phenomena, which for long ages were mysteries, are now, through the lights of science, being fully comprehended and made plain to all. and, by reasoning from analogy, new arts and sciences are comprehended, while each additional light gained flashes upon some other hidden mystery, and reveals in it nothing but _law_ and _order_, in all its arrangements. the progress made of late in the arts and sciences is wonderful indeed; yet this is only the progress of the mind of man, and the enlightenment of his intellect. and we believe that the next decade of years will develop _facts_ which might startle the minds of the wisest of to-day to contemplate. that vast world--surrounded by the sun--controls this earth and its other surrounding planets. from that world, and sun--in its offices--we derive every blessing while on earth, and we cannot doubt but that when we find our future, it will be there. the righteous to dwell _within_ where, we have shown you, the sun does not or cannot shine; but where the _glory of god_ is the light of the holy place, and yet we have the evidence that one of the offices of the _sun_ will be the punishment of the wicked who cannot enter that heavenly world. "_whoso is wise will observe these things._" psalms, cvii. _will all take heed?_ * * * * * * gentle reader, we are about to take our leave of you. we have penned the lines which compose this volume at short intervals obtained recently from a laborious professional life. our mind has been duly impressed with the correctness of the views we have advanced. indeed, to disbelieve them, would seem to disbelieve divine revelations, and let the mind become again shrouded with impenetrable mystery in regard to the place of our future habitation, and of the manner and mode of the spirit's transit thither after the death of the body. all should remember that they will be held accountable for the light and knowledge they receive. we feel fully assured that our hypothesis as to the location of heaven--as also that of hell--is well founded and fully sustained by god's own revelations, both as recorded in the bible, and as seen in visible nature. as to the "spirit of god as fire," we have presented such evidence as divine revelations have furnished us, and only added to these such as _reason_, as the perceptive faculties of all, do or may comprehend, and we do not see wherein the _christian world_ can found any objections to our conclusions. that there might be culled from the bible a few passages which may seem not to reflect our views is natural, when we consider how it is interspersed with the views and versions of various historical writers in the chronicling of events. but we believe divine revelations furnish sufficient _positive evidence_ to sustain us; such evidence as the _reason_ of every enlightened and reflecting mind will comprehend and approve. we believe this knowledge should--nay, doubtless, _will_--have a salutary and beneficial effect upon the minds and hearts of all. we now leave all as a _personal matter with you_. that you _will have a future_ you cannot doubt. we therefore beseech you to remember "that god will not be mocked" with impunity; neither can he be deceived. "_for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. he that soweth to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting._" hear the preacher of god (eccl. xii. , ): "_let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: fear god and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man. for god shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil._" * * * * * appeal to christian ministers. it might reasonably be expected that as we have advanced a new hypothesis as to the location of _heaven_, and also of _hell_, that we should also give our views as to what we deem the correct faith and principles of the _true christian religion_. you will see in our "_preface_" that we have not designed to make our book sectarian in behalf of any one of the different protestant organizations. and, not being a minister of the gospel, we leave the great and important work of thus directing the mind to those whose rightful mission it is to instruct. true, our views upon this subject are foreshadowed in these pages, but we believe the time has now come when there should be a _general review_ by all leading divines. that they should take under consideration all new lights afforded by the sciences--especially the science of astronomy--and bring these to bear with philosophical reason upon divine revelations and bible truths; and thereby comprehend more fully the nature of god, and his requirements of man in order to salvation. we think that by such action on their part, that most, even if not all of the minor sectarian differences of opinion can be removed, and that all can unite as one great family of the church of god on earth; and that mysteries which have hitherto shrouded the minds of the masses--as to the necessary faith and practice in a true religion--may thereby be removed, and all the world of mankind be brought to a saving knowledge of the truth, and "know the lord, whom to know aright is eternal life." we know that, at first thought, this may seem to be a great undertaking; and, however desirable, some may entertain doubts as to its accomplishment, and therefore hesitate to move in the matter; yet we believe that it can, and, sooner or later, will be accomplished, and that the final results will prove worthy the life efforts of every christian minister on this earth. neither ministers, their flocks, nor the entire human family now on the earth, have long to live, nor time to delay in this great matter. one decade of _ten_ short years, and about _one third of all now living_ will have passed away, while _thirty years_ will close the drama of life with _one thousand millions_, or most of the present inhabitants of this globe, and all must find their future state of existence. many of us can look back over thirty years past, and realize that the time has been _short_. so, also, will be the few remaining years allotted to any of us. therefore, it becomes all to heed well the warning voice of him who hath said: "_whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest._" all the different church organizations _cannot be right_ in their present faith and practice, however lenient they may profess to be toward each other, or even _hope_ that such is the case. this were impossible. god has designed to establish _one true universal church_ on this earth, and he will do it, though it should sweep away every such organization now in existence, and even obliterate their every land-mark. we do not say that there is not now in each, more or less, of the germ of _truth_, nor that from these scattered fragments may not yet be gathered that which shall constitute the body and life of the whole. there may be a struggle first with the powers of darkness, yet this great church will be established and prevail. the lights of true science, which are revealing more fully god's own revelations, we believe, will _force_ a change to a more _universal system of religion_. the mind will comprehend more of the great jehovah, and of his will and plan of salvation. therefore, we believe it to be the duty of all christian ministers to move in this matter. they should investigate and comprehend all the new lights afforded them, and thereby be enabled to make plain the revelations of god; remove all mystery; establish his eternal truth, and teach all minds and hearts to "look up through nature to nature's god." this will not be the work of only a day, or a week, nor yet of any one individual; but the work of _time_, with the _united efforts_ of leading minds of the age, and we hope that its commencement will not long be delayed. it must be acknowledged that the _plans_ of salvation, as now taught by the many different protestant church organizations, are all, more or less, mystery to the outside world. hence, _infidelity_ has in this highly colored reasons--at least to sustain their assertions against the _truth_ of the _christian religion_, and so also have the jews. this fact no one can reasonably deny. the mind of man--his thinking, _reasoning_ faculty--must be convinced by evidence before he can be brought to believe, and in this great and important matter he _must believe_ before he will act. the _mind_ must be left free and _untrammelled_, and governed only by _enlightened reason_. this should be the course pursued by all teaching ministers. light, liberty, and eternal life should be the watchwords of those who stand upon the "walls of zion!" the mind must be taught to _love_ god in all his immaculate perfections, and to serve him through that love which "_casteth out all fear_." st. paul says, "_god hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of_ love _and of a sound mind._" john tells us, "_there is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out all fear; because fear hath torment. he that feareth is not made perfect in love._" and yet in perfect love, we shall _always_ have the "fear of god before our eyes;" we shall ever fear to offend him, and thereby fulfil every commandment given us _to_ fear him. but "he that dwelleth in god, dwelleth in love." we believe that if the christian ministry throughout would properly present the claims of god to the _love_ of the human heart, there would soon be a turning of the masses to him, such as has never been witnessed since the beginning of the world. that by the teachings of so many different creeds, their widely different faith and doctrines, the mind of man in general has become bewildered; and that mystery, deep, dark, almost impenetrable, hangs--more or less--over all, we cannot deny. see the numerous different church organizations, founded and presided over by men of intellect and learning; each claiming to be established by _scriptural authority!_ and yet in their faith and teachings, all conflicting, more or less, with each other. we cannot doubt the honesty and sincerity of these ministers, nor of their church members; yet may not many of them be "blind leaders of the blind?" to each of these, all other organizations, faith, and doctrine seem a mystery; and if a mystery to those who are striving after light and truth in the way of life and salvation, is it not far more of mystery to those outside, who have not been educated into any system of religious belief? the truth is, _enlightened reason_ condemns this exhibition as the "church of god," for it has become "a stumbling block" in the road to truth and the way of salvation. when we go to the founders and leaders of these different organizations, and ask, why all these conflicting elements? the majority of them will answer, remember that christ hath said, "i am the vine, ye are the branches," and add a garbled quotation from the writings of st. paul, "_great is the mystery of godliness_." now there is but one _true vine_, and all its branches will bring forth the same "good fruits of righteousness" by which all shall be known. and as to _mystery_, let us see what the great apostle of the gentiles did say. "_and without controversy great is the mystery of godliness; god was manifested in the flesh, justified in the_ _spirit, seen of angels; preached unto the gentiles, believed on in the world, and received up into glory._" there we have all of it, and, taken together, it explains itself to every intelligent mind, and thus, properly comprehended, removes _all mystery_, and implies the necessary faith and plan of salvation. foreshadowings. the "signs of the times" are pregnant with coming and wonderful events. the rapid progress of mind, the developments through the sciences--which are now throwing flood-lights upon divine revelations, and giving to the enlightened world a more comprehensive knowledge of the great jehovah, and of his wonderful works--are all potent with argument of the necessity that the effort for a united church should speedily be made. a partial comprehension of these wonderful developments, without further aids, may tend to throw doubt and suspicion upon the minds of many, as to whether or not any of the christian organizations have comprehended the true plan of salvation. whilst a divided church, a divided ministry, and their opposite teachings can but tend to strengthen such doubts, bewilder the mind, and lead to _infidelity_. now it rests with leading spirits and teachers of _every_ christian denomination--whether _protestant_ or _catholic_--to say whether this advance shall be made in behalf of _true religion_: the church of god, and the salvation of souls, or in the interest of satan, the opposing enemy; whether this advance shall be true _christianity_, or _infidelity_; whether the upbuilding of the kingdom of christ, and hastening the time when he shall reign in the hearts of all; or, by indifference and default, permitting the upbuilding of _babylon_, and the reseating of the "scarlet woman," _and_ thus tenfold intensifying the great and _final struggle_. there is a _true philosophy_ in religion, and by instructing the mind to comprehend this, the final happy results will ensue. we often hear ministers praying for the time to come "when the world shall be converted to god; when all shall know him from the least unto the greatest." they claim the promise that such a time _will come_, and yet can but see that wickedness is gaining ground, and that within their church organizations they do not number _one third of the population_--even in what are denominated christian countries, nor do they keep pace with the increase of population, and yet they seem contented with their "little flocks." ye ministers of the "living god," if ye have come to "mount zion" by faith and prayer, and "holy living," we call upon you to unite your efforts in the spirit of _brotherly love_ and christian unity, and show to a "perishing world" that you are in _earnest_ in your master's cause, and that you desire the salvation of the _whole human family_, else he may say to you, "_i will come quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place._" * * * * * in regard to the theory we have advanced as to the location of heaven, we leave you, and all, to examine the revelations of god through the lights of science; nature around you, and with _reason_ bearing upon the fact that god, the great jehovah, the creator of all, though a _spirit_, is not a _myth_; and that reality, law, order, and system universally prevail throughout all his works, and with these he governs his universe. god's own revelations, the lights afforded through the sciences, nature around us, true philosophy and reason, all confirm our hypothesis. cut loose now from this, and we can anchor nowhere, save in a blind incomprehensible faith, ever floating and drifting as in a _sea of ether_, and surrounded by impenetrable _mystery_ and _gloom_. all hold and teach that the spirit, when it leaves the body, flies away from _mortality_ and earth, and goes to the place prepared for it by its creator. the celerity with which spirit moves we do not now know, but the reality and law of its flight does exist, and this by god's own arrangement and established agency in nature. that such agency is continually with us, and ready at all times for the use of disembodied spirit, we cannot doubt--nay, possibly its principle or element is _in_ and _of_ us, from the first moment of our existence, through all subsequent time, and will continue to all eternity to come. the _blood_ is the life of man, its element or stimulæ of life is _electricity_, let this but escape from the blood, and with it the soul or spirit has fled, and the body is left to moulder back to dust. we find electricity to be a principle of _immateriality_; an element of _fire_, which pervades all things, in a greater or less degree, not only solids and fluids, but also atmosphere or air. now let us consider this element which god has permitted man to comprehend as existing in nature, and yet veils it from our sight, and, although he permits us to use it for beneficial purposes, yet we can never see or comprehend more than its _effects_, for, in itself, it is _ethereal_ and no mortal eye can behold it. man has not only been permitted to comprehend that the principle of electricity does exist in nature, but also to measure, by time, its rapid flight. thus, with proper appliances, this earth can be belted with it in about _one tenth_ part of a second of time. it would seem to almost annihilate time, and space, as its flight is nearly , miles a second--being more than one third swifter than _light_. in preceding pages, we have dwelt upon the distance of our earth from the sun, and also distances to various planets, and to some of the fixed stars, and _nebulæ_, far away in sidereal regions. we have given you the conclusions of the most scientific astronomers throughout the world. their measurement of distances by light have been shown to approximate correctness, and the truth of their deductions we cannot doubt. they have explored regions so far remote, that it is rendered certain that it has required _light several hundred thousand years_ from the time it left its native sun, to reach our earth, and that these rays travelling from thence, are now successively arriving and beaming upon the eye when it is placed to the telescope. indeed, from one cluster of suns, or nebulæ, beyond the "milky way," it is computed that the light derived from thence has been , years in transit, although travelling at the rate of , miles a second. now all these facts are astounding, and must impress every reflecting mind with force. all can see that astronomers, by the aid of that wonderful gift of god to man--the telescope--have looked abroad, and have penetrated and surveyed with the eye space far remote in sidereal regions, to the extent of which it would require , years for _electricity_ to reach at a flight of , miles a second, and yet they have not discovered any thing greatly different from our own planetary system, nor any object or seeming phenomenon they could denominate _heaven_. without a solution of these facts, is not the mind bewildered and _lost_ in the hazy contemplation? if heaven is still _far out beyond_, what period or measure of eternity may it requite for the spirit, or soul to reach it after leaving the body? knowing that there is stern reality, regulated law, order, and motion in all pertaining to jehovah, his creations and government; even the _mind of faith_ staggers, and must founder in the contemplation of conceptions so mighty and so mysterious. you have taught us to believe that heaven is a "fixed place," and has a "permanent locality," but while accepting this through faith, you have failed to give us a _permanent thought_. therefore, notwithstanding all our hopes and desires, _mystery_ and _gloom, dark and impenetrable_, have shrouded the mind's eye of faith; leaving no light but an excited and restless _imagination_, and we call upon you to give _faith_ and _hope_ a _resting-place_ somewhere else than floating in _ethereal regions_, and wandering about with _blind chance through illimitable space_. our hypothesis locates heaven just where _we believe it is_, and _to it_ the spirit can ascend, on _angel-wings of electricity_, in a fraction of eternity equal to only _five minutes of time_. and, although discoveries through the lights of science directed our mind thither, and assisted its comprehension, yet we believe _divine revelations alone sustain our views_, and thus afford the mind a resting place where _faith_ and _hope_ can anchor, and be founded in reality, in _immutable and_ eternal truth. the laws of nature, the controlling influence of that world, our perceptive faculties and _reason_, all proclaim that it must be so. its protecting fires shield it from mortal sight, yet proclaim to us through ten thousand blessings showered upon our earth, _'tis there!_ 'tis there!! * * * * * are any ready to ask why the "_glory-light_" of that heavenly world, represented as "far above the brightness of the sun" cannot be seen? such inquiry must exhibit a lack of knowledge respecting the nature of god, the great spirit; as also of any proper conception of the immortal spirit of man. that light is _for spirit alone_, and cannot be seen by mortal eyes, and that which is darkness to us while our sight is veiled with mortality, so far as relates to that heavenly world and our future, becomes--after the death of the body--transcendent brilliancy, and the light of the "glory of god." we have abundant evidence of this fact. remember that when the great jehovah made his presence manifest on mount sinai, although the mountain burned with fire, yet--to mortal vision--all the surroundings were filled with "thick clouds and darkness." yea, "clouds and darkness were made his pavilion," and, to mortal eyes, "_are the habitations of his throne_." the light of the "_glory of god_" is for spirit alone, and _its_ radiance will make even the light of the _sun_ darkness to the _spirit-eye_. it is possible that should he unveil himself, and throw a flash of his _glory-light_ upon this world, it would in an instant of time destroy the whole race of man, and every living thing, for he hath said, "_no one shall see me and live._" we have on record evidences sustaining our views in regard to such effects, should the light and brightness of his face or glory be revealed. see the effects of the light of his glory, even in a veiled form, when the son of god made himself manifest from heaven (that bright world we have been contemplating, wherein he is enthroned, and where all the righteous shall dwell) to saul of tarsus; although he did not unveil himself, yet "_a light above the brightness of the sun at mid-day shone around, and saul fell to the earth smitten with blindness_." yes, this glory-light _is darkness_ to mortal eyes; and when beheld by spirit, the light of the _sun_ may even be darkness. see again its effects upon st. john, the revelator, when, catching but a glimpse of the son of man in the midst of the golden candlesticks, he "_fell at his feet as dead_." ah, it is possible that all seeming _natural light_ to us, while in mortality, may become as _darkness_ to our spirit vision; and we are assured by the word of god, that none shall see the light of his glory save those who seek regeneration through love and faith, for the wicked shall go into _outer darkness_, and dwell forever in death, while the righteous shall enter into and enjoy eternal life. our hypothesis is a pleasing one for the contemplation of every christian, and yet cannot interfere in the least with the doctrines of any who believe there is a heaven. and he who believeth not in either god or heaven, has lost the intellectual dignity of man in proper conceptions, and knoweth not even now "what manner of man he is." we have given something tangible upon which to fix the mind, and which will inspire hope; something of _reality_ that all may contemplate. remember that we are not forbidden to investigate, nor yet form conclusions founded on reason; neither is it declared that we shall not _know_ the location of our future home. from all that man can comprehend of nature, _reason_ teaches him to look for and find--if not in life, _after death_--his future home somewhere in connection with our own planetary system. this system is large and grand enough to justify all our aspirations, and satisfy all our hopes and desires. the extent, grandeur, and glory of the heaven we have contemplated, will fully satisfy the immortal mind of man, even as it does the "angels of god," and its king and ruler, and we may all consider ourselves fortunate to get there. * * * * * we have written our book, and thrown out these suggestions with purest of motives. from the first conception of the idea of heaven being where, in mind, we locate it, we have felt impressed with the correctness of our views; so much so, that it impelled us to make the effort to give them to the world, believing that in doing so we should advance the true theory which would sustain christianity, and cause it to spread and triumph over all opposition; give "to faith that _hope_ which is an anchor to the soul," and draw the hearts and minds of all to _love_ god, and yet in that love _fear_ to offend him. we have refrained from consulting the clergy or ministers of _any_ and every denomination in this matter, desiring simply to give our own views. we now ask of you all a prayerful and thorough examination by the evidences of divine revelations and all other lights afforded you; and if you discard our views as to the location of heaven, be _careful_ and _explicit_ in giving us _your hypothesis_ as to the one you are inviting us to, and _locate it_ where the _mind of reason_ can contemplate it, and where _hope_ may span the voyage _the soul must make_ to reach it after the death of the body. appeal to all: whether jews or gentiles, protestants, catholics, infidels, or indifferent believers. we desire the salvation of the entire human family. we believe that god has provided a way and plan of salvation by which all should gain a true and saving knowledge of him; and we have _appealed_ to christian ministers to unite their efforts in prayerful investigation of his revelations through all new lights afforded them, and to point out to all, the plain path of _duty_ and _safety_--but not in any wise labor under the false or mistaken belief that they can stand as _sole mediator_, or umpire, between god and the souls of men, and, at their own will or pleasure, mete out to them eternal happiness or misery. such as do this "are blind leaders of the blind," and their doctrine a _fatal delusion_. we believe in a living, teaching ministry; and, where heart and life is fully consecrated to god and his cause, all such may feel that they are divinely called and commissioned. we hold that such a ministry should be sustained, and that all should give liberally out of their abundance, to secure them against want or contingencies which might retard or prevent their usefulness. but our appeal is now to you, in regard to your own _individual responsibility_. each has an immortal soul, which must be saved or lost. no one, save christ jesus our lord, can stand as mediator in behalf of any to insure salvation or heaven. popes, bishops, ministers, and priests _are but men_, and are mortal like ourselves. they may, by application to study and investigation, gain light and knowledge--nay, should do it, so as to instruct us in the way of life and salvation, but further than this they cannot go. we have no evidence, neither in the old or new testament scriptures, where, by intercession of _man alone_, salvation or heaven was ever obtained by an unbelieving heart. we see that, under the earlier dispensation, moses was the chosen servant of god, and divinely commissioned as _high-priest_ to the children of israel. yet when they sinned, and jehovah's wrath was kindled against them, moses made _direct intercession_ in their behalf, and even plead, saying: "_if thou wilt not forgive them, blot me, i pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written._" hear the answer of the lord: "_whosoever hath sinned against me, him will i blot out of my book; * * * * mine angel shall go before thee; nevertheless, in the day when i visit, i will visit their sins upon them._" thus, although his judgments were stayed for a season, because of his covenant, yet their final execution was certain. we are assured by the scriptures that there is "_one god_" and "_one mediator_," and we may go to god through faith in this _one mediator_, and that all who go thus shall obtain eternal life. we have record of the efficacy of this faith in the application of the dying thief. when he had signified his belief, hear the answer of the saviour: "_to-day shalt thou be with me in paradise._" oh, how plain the plan of salvation! all nature proclaims there is a god. his revelations proclaim an eternal existence of the soul. we all know that we _must die_. however disappointed we may be in our earthly hopes or fears, yet as to the certainty of death none will be disappointed--_it is sure to come_. when the angel of death is commissioned to summon us, soon "_the pale horse and his rider_" will be at the door; then there can be no delay. "_dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return._" "_and the soul shall return to god who gave it._" "_it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment._" what can you _lose_ by giving your heart to god? what may you not lose by neglecting to do it? it is _all gain_ and _no loss_. may you all yield to the gentle drawings of the spirit, which now whispers to your heart in loving tones with accents of _mercy_, and your spirits finally be gathered in the fold of angels' wings, and by them borne to the paradise of god, where his glory is the light of eternal day. the marriage of heaven and hell the marriage of heaven and hell by william blake [illustration] boston john w. luce and company the marriage of heaven and hell the argument rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burden'd air, hungry clouds swag on the deep. once meek, and in a perilous path the just man kept his course along the vale of death. roses are planted where thorns grow, and on the barren heath sing the honey bees. then the perilous path was planted, and a river and a spring on every cliff and tomb; and on the bleached bones red clay brought forth: till the villain left the paths of ease to walk in perilous paths, and drive the just man into barren climes. now the sneaking serpent walks in mild humility; and the just man rages in the wilds where lions roam. rintrah roars and shakes his fires in the burden'd air, hungry clouds swag on the deep. as a new heaven is begun, and it is now thirty-three years since its advent, the eternal hell revives. and lo! swedenborg is the angel sitting at the tomb: his writings are the linen clothes folded up. now is the dominion of edom, and the return of adam into paradise.--see isaiah xxxiv. and xxxv. chap. without contraries is no progression. attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence. from these contraries spring what the religious call good and evil. good is the passive that obeys reason; evil is the active springing from energy. good is heaven. evil is hell. the voice of the devil all bibles or sacred codes have been the cause of the following errors:-- . that man has two real existing principles, viz., a body and a soul. . that energy, called evil, is alone from the body; and that reason, called good, is alone from the soul. . that god will torment man in eternity for following his energies. but the following contraries to these are true:-- . man has no body distinct from his soul. for that called body is a portion of soul discerned by the five senses, the chief inlets of soul in this age. . energy is the only life, and is from the body; and reason is the bound or outward circumference of energy. . energy is eternal delight. those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained; and the restrainer or reason usurps its place and governs the unwilling. and being restrained, it by degrees becomes passive, till it is only the shadow of desire. the history of this is written in paradise lost, and the governor or reason is called messiah. and the original archangel or possessor of the command of the heavenly host is called the devil, or satan, and his children are called sin and death. but in the book of job, milton's messiah is called satan. for this history has been adopted by both parties. it indeed appeared to reason as if desire was cast out, but the devil's account is, that the messiah fell, and formed a heaven of what he stole from the abyss. this is shown in the gospel, where he prays to the father to send the comforter or desire that reason may have ideas to build on, the jehovah of the bible being no other than he who dwells in flaming fire. know that after christ's death he became jehovah. but in milton, the father is destiny, the son a ratio of the five senses, and the holy ghost vacuum! _note._--the reason milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of angels and god, and at liberty when of devils and hell, is because he was a true poet, and of the devil's party without knowing it. a memorable fancy as i was walking among the fires of hell, delighted with the enjoyments of genius, which to angels look like torment and insanity, i collected some of their proverbs, thinking that as the sayings used in a nation mark its character, so the proverbs of hell show the nature of infernal wisdom better than any description of buildings or garments. when i came home, on the abyss of the five senses, where a flat-sided steep frowns over the present world, i saw a mighty devil folded in black clouds hovering on the sides of the rock; with corroding fires he wrote the following sentence now perceived by the minds of men, and read by them on earth:-- "how do you know but every bird that cuts the airy way is an immense world of delight, closed by your senses five?" proverbs of hell in seed-time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. drive your cart and your plough over the bones of the dead. the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by incapacity. he who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence. the cut worm forgives the plough. dip him in the river who loves water. a fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. he whose face gives no light shall never become a star. eternity is in love with the productions of time. the busy bee has no time for sorrow. the hours of folly are measured by the clock, but of wisdom no clock can measure. all wholesome food is caught without a net or a trap. bring out number, weight, and measure in a year of dearth. no bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. a dead body revenges not injuries. the most sublime act is to set another before you. if the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. folly is the cloak of knavery. shame is pride's cloak. prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion. the pride of the peacock is the glory of god. the lust of the goat is the bounty of god. the wrath of the lion is the wisdom of god. the nakedness of woman is the work of god. excess of sorrow laughs, excess of joy weeps. the roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man. the fox condemns the trap, not himself. joys impregnate, sorrows bring forth. let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep. the bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship. the selfish smiling fool and the sullen frowning fool shall be both thought wise that they may be a rod. what is now proved was once only imagined. the rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit watch the roots; the lion, the tiger, the horse, the elephant watch the fruits. the cistern contains, the fountain overflows. one thought fills immensity. always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you. everything possible to be believed is an image of truth. the eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow. the fox provides for himself, but god provides for the lion. think in the morning, act in the noon, eat in the evening, sleep in the night. he who has suffered you to impose on him knows you. as the plough follows words, so god rewards prayers. the tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. expect poison from the standing water. you never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. listen to the fool's reproach; it is a kingly title. the eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth. the weak in courage is strong in cunning. the apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion the horse how he shall take his prey. the thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest. if others had not been foolish we should have been so. the soul of sweet delight can never be defiled. when thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius. lift up thy head! as the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. to create a little flower is the labour of ages. damn braces; bless relaxes. the best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest. prayers plough not; praises reap not; joys laugh not; sorrows weep not. the head sublime, the heart pathos, the genitals beauty, the hands and feet proportion. as the air to a bird, or the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible. the crow wished everything was black; the owl that everything was white. exuberance is beauty. if the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. improvement makes straight roads, but the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius. sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires. where man is not, nature is barren. truth can never be told so as to be understood and not to be believed. enough! or too much. * * * * * the ancient poets animated all sensible objects with gods or geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged and numerous senses could perceive. and particularly they studied the genius of each city and country, placing it under its mental deity. till a system was formed, which some took advantage of and enslaved the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects. thus began priesthood. choosing forms of worship from poetic tales. and at length they pronounced that the gods had ordered such things. thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast. a memorable fancy the prophets isaiah and ezekiel dined with me, and i asked them how they dared so roundly to assert that god spoke to them, and whether they did not think at the time that they would be misunderstood, and so be the cause of imposition. isaiah answered: "i saw no god, nor heard any, in a finite organical perception: but my senses discovered the infinite in everything; and as i was then persuaded, and remained confirmed, that the voice of honest indignation is the voice of god, i cared not for consequences, but wrote." then i asked: "does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so?" he replied: "all poets believe that it does, and in ages of imagination this firm persuasion removed mountains; but many are not capable of a firm persuasion of anything." then ezekiel said: "the philosophy of the east taught the first principles of human perception; some nations held one principle for the origin, and some another. we of israel taught that the poetic genius (as you now call it) was the first principle, and all the others merely derivative, which was the cause of our despising the priests and philosophers of other countries, and prophesying that all gods would at last be proved to originate in ours, and to be the tributaries of the poetic genius. it was this that our great poet king david desired so fervently, and invokes so pathetically, saying by this he conquers enemies and governs kingdoms; and we so loved our god that we cursed in his name all the deities of surrounding nations, and asserted that they had rebelled. from these opinions the vulgar came to think that all nations would at last be subject to the jews. "this," said he, "like all firm persuasions, is come to pass, for all nations believe the jews' code, and worship the jews' god; and what greater subjection can be?" i heard this with some wonder, and must confess my own conviction. after dinner i asked isaiah to favour the world with his lost works; he said none of equal value was lost. ezekiel said the same of his. i also asked isaiah what made him go naked and barefoot three years. he answered: "the same that made our friend diogenes the grecian." i then asked ezekiel why he ate dung, and lay so long on his right and left side. he answered: "the desire of raising other men into a perception of the infinite. this the north american tribes practise. and is he honest who resists his genius or conscience, only for the sake of present ease or gratification?" * * * * * the ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at the end of six thousand years is true, as i have heard from hell. for the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded to leave his guard at [the] tree of life, and when he does, the whole creation will be consumed and appear infinite and holy, whereas it now appears finite and corrupt. this will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment. but first the notion that man has a body distinct from his soul is to be expunged; this i shall do by printing in the infernal method by corrosives, which in hell are salutary and medicinal, melting apparent surfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid. if the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. for man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern. a memorable fancy i was in a printing-house in hell, and saw the method in which knowledge is transmitted from generation to generation. in the first chamber was a dragon-man, clearing away the rubbish from a cave's mouth; within, a number of dragons were hollowing the cave. in the second chamber was a viper folding round the rock and the cave, and others adorning it with gold, silver, and precious stones. in the third chamber was an eagle with wings and feathers of air; he caused the inside of the cave to be infinite; around were numbers of eagle-like men, who built palaces in the immense cliffs. in the fourth chamber were lions of flaming fire raging around and melting the metals into living fluids. in the fifth chamber were unnamed forms, which cast the metals into the expanse. there they were received by men who occupied the sixth chamber, and took the forms of books, and were arranged in libraries. * * * * * the giants who formed this world into its sensual existence and now seem to live in it in chains are in truth the causes of its life and the sources of all activity, but the chains are the cunning of weak and tame minds, which have power to resist energy, according to the proverb, "the weak in courage is strong in cunning." thus one portion of being is the prolific, the other the devouring. to the devourer it seems as if the producer was in his chains; but it is not so, he only takes portions of existence, and fancies that the whole. but the prolific would cease to be prolific unless the devourer as a sea received the excess of his delights. some will say, "is not god alone the prolific?" i answer: "god only acts and is in existing beings or men." these two classes of men are always upon earth, and they should be enemies: whoever tries to reconcile them seeks to destroy existence. religion is an endeavour to reconcile the two. _note._--jesus christ did not wish to unite but to separate them, as in the parable of sheep and goats; and he says: "i came not to send peace, but a sword." messiah, or satan, or tempter, was formerly thought to be one of the antediluvians who are our energies. a memorable fancy an angel came to me and said: "o pitiable foolish young man! o horrible, o dreadful state! consider the hot burning dungeon thou art preparing for thyself to all eternity, to which thou art going in such career." i said: "perhaps you will be willing to show me my eternal lot, and we will contemplate together upon it, and see whether your lot or mine is most desirable." so he took me through a stable, and through a church, and down into the church vault, at the end of which was a mill; through the mill we went, and came to a cave; down the winding cavern we groped our tedious way, till a void boundless as a nether sky appeared beneath us, and we held by the roots of trees, and hung over this immensity; but i said: "if you please, we will commit ourselves to this void, and see whether providence is here also; if you will not, i will." but he answered: "do not presume, o young man; but as we here remain, behold thy lot, which will soon appear when the darkness passes away." so i remained with him sitting in the twisted root of an oak; he was suspended in a fungus, which hung with the head downward into the deep. by degrees we beheld the infinite abyss, fiery as the smoke of a burning city; beneath us at an immense distance was the sun, black but shining; round it were fiery tracks on which revolved vast spiders, crawling after their prey, which flew, or rather swum, in the infinite deep, in the most terrific shapes of animals sprung from corruption; and the air was full of them, and seemed composed of them. these are devils, and are called powers of the air. i now asked my companion which was my eternal lot. he said: "between the black and white spiders." but now, from between the black and white spiders, a cloud and fire burst and rolled through the deep, blackening all beneath so that the nether deep grew black as a sea, and rolled with a terrible noise. beneath us was nothing now to be seen but a black tempest, till looking east between the clouds and the waves, we saw a cataract of blood mixed with fire, and not many stones' throw from us appeared and sunk again the scaly fold of a monstrous serpent. at last to the east, distant about three degrees, appeared a fiery crest above the waves; slowly it reared like a ridge of golden rocks, till we discovered two globes of crimson fire, from which the sea fled away in clouds of smoke; and now we saw it was the head of leviathan. his forehead was divided into streaks of green and purple, like those on a tiger's forehead; soon we saw his mouth and red gills hang just above the raging foam, tinging the black deeps with beams of blood, advancing toward us with all the fury of a spiritual existence. my friend the angel climbed up from his station into the mill. i remained alone, and then this appearance was no more; but i found myself sitting on a pleasant bank beside a river by moonlight, hearing a harper who sung to the harp; and his theme was: "the man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind." but i arose, and sought for the mill, and there i found my angel, who, surprised, asked me how i escaped. i answered: "all that we saw was owing to your metaphysics; for when you ran away, i found myself on a bank by moonlight, hearing a harper. but now we have seen my eternal lot, shall i show you yours?" he laughed at my proposal; but i by force suddenly caught him in my arms, and flew westerly through the night, till we were elevated above the earth's shadow; then i flung myself with him directly into the body of the sun; here i clothed myself in white, and taking in my hand swedenborg's volumes, sunk from the glorious clime, and passed all the planets till we came to saturn. here i stayed to rest, and then leaped into the void between saturn and the fixed stars. "here," said i, "is your lot; in this space, if space it may be called." soon we saw the stable and the church, and i took him to the altar and opened the bible, and lo! it was a deep pit, into which i descended, driving the angel before me. soon we saw seven houses of brick. one we entered. in it were a number of monkeys, baboons, and all of that species, chained by the middle, grinning and snatching at one another, but withheld by the shortness of their chains. however, i saw that they sometimes grew numerous, and then the weak were caught by the strong, and with a grinning aspect, first coupled with and then devoured by plucking off first one limb and then another till the body was left a helpless trunk; this, after grinning and kissing it with seeming fondness, they devoured too. and here and there i saw one savourily picking the flesh off his own tail. as the stench terribly annoyed us both, we went into the mill; and i in my hand brought the skeleton of a body, which in the mill was aristotle's analytics. so the angel said: "thy phantasy has imposed upon me, and thou oughtest to be ashamed." i answered: "we impose on one another, and it is but lost time to converse with you whose works are only analytics." * * * * * "i have always found that angels have the vanity to speak of themselves as the only wise; this they do with a confident insolence sprouting from systematic reasoning. "thus swedenborg boasts that what he writes is new; though it is only the contents or index of already published books. "a man carried a monkey about for a show, and because he was a little wiser than the monkey, grew vain, and conceived himself as much wiser than seven men. it is so with swedenborg; he shows the folly of churches, and exposes hypocrites, till he imagines that all are religious, and himself the single one on earth that ever broke a net. "now hear a plain fact: swedenborg has not written one new truth. now hear another: he has written all the old falsehoods. "and now hear the reason: he conversed with angels who are all religious, and conversed not with devils who all hate religion, for he was incapable through his conceited notions. "thus swedenborg's writings are a recapitulation of all superficial opinions, and an analysis of the more sublime, but no further. "have now another plain fact: any man of mechanical talents may from the writings of paracelsus or jacob behmen produce ten thousand volumes of equal value with swedenborg's, and from those of dante or shakespeare an infinite number. "but when he has done this, let him not say that he knows better than his master, for he only holds a candle in sunshine." a memorable fancy once i saw a devil in a flame of fire, who arose before an angel that sat on a cloud, and the devil uttered these words: "the worship of god is, honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best. those who envy or calumniate great men hate god, for there is no other god." the angel hearing this became almost blue, but mastering himself he grew yellow, and at last white-pink and smiling, and then replied: "thou idolater, is not god one? and is not he visible in jesus christ? and has not jesus christ given his sanction to the law of ten commandments? and are not all other men fools, sinners, and nothings?" the devil answered: "bray a fool in a mortar with wheat, yet shall not his folly be beaten out of him. if jesus christ is the greatest man, you ought to love him in the greatest degree. now hear how he has given his sanction to the law of ten commandments. did he not mock at the sabbath, and so mock the sabbath's god? murder those who were murdered because of him? turn away the law from the woman taken in adultery, steal the labour of others to support him? bear false witness when he omitted making a defence before pilate? covet when he prayed for his disciples, and when he bid them shake off the dust of their feet against such as refused to lodge them? i tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments. jesus was all virtue, and acted from impulse, not from rules." when he had so spoken, i beheld the angel, who stretched out his arms embracing the flame of fire, and he was consumed, and arose as elijah. _note._--this angel, who is now become a devil, is my particular friend; we often read the bible together in its infernal or diabolical sense, which the world shall have if they behave well. i have also the bible of hell, which the world shall have whether they will or no. one law for the lion and ox is oppression. a song of liberty . the eternal female groan'd; it was heard over all the earth: . albion's coast is sick silent; the american meadows faint. . shadows of prophecy shiver along by the lakes and the rivers, and mutter across the ocean. france, rend down thy dungeon! . golden spain, burst the barriers of old rome! . cast thy keys, o rome, into the deep--down falling, even to eternity down falling; . and weep! . in her trembling hands she took the new-born terror, howling. . on those infinite mountains of light now barr'd out by the atlantic sea, the new-born fire stood before the starry king. . flagg'd with grey-brow'd snows and thunderous visages, the jealous wings wav'd over the deep. . the speary hand burn'd aloft; unbuckled was the shield; forth went the hand of jealousy among the flaming hair, and hurl'd the new-born wonder through the starry night. . the fire, the fire is falling! . look up! look up! o citizen of london, enlarge thy countenance! o jew, leave counting gold; return to thy oil and wine! o african, black african! (go, winged thought, widen his forehead.) . the fiery limbs, the flaming hair shot like the sinking sun into the western sea. . wak'd from his eternal sleep, the hoary element roaring fled away. . down rush'd, beating his wings in vain, the jealous king, his grey-brow'd councillors, thunderous warriors, curl'd veterans, among helms and shields, and chariots, horses, elephants, banners, castles, slings, and rocks. . falling, rushing, ruining; buried in the ruins, on urthona's dens. . all night beneath the ruins; then their sullen flames, faded, emerge round the gloomy king. . with thunder and fire, leading his starry hosts through the waste wilderness, he promulgates his ten commandments, glancing his beamy eyelids over the deep in dark dismay. . where the son of fire in his eastern cloud, while the morning plumes her golden breast, . spurning the clouds written with curses, stamps the stony law to dust, loosing the eternal horses from the dens of night, crying: "empire is no more! and now the lion and wolf shall cease." chorus let the priests of the raven of dawn, no longer in deadly black, with hoarse note curse the sons of joy. nor his accepted brethren whom, tyrant, he calls free, lay the bound or build the roof. nor pale religious lechery call that virginity that wishes, but acts not! for everything that lives is holy.