a Dead Man was Drawn From His Tomb and Back Again to Life — BY — ADAIR WELCKER i r to •' an iicii to axid cai .•re i;:s u ,,. C;ii tl -■■o: .1 'I E I Toart ' «««iT« i' •n c «v,^. >.i ■ - . J. ' ' • >^ J t ':h to hol'i . a vaa t ' 1 <- li. 3l11 of th? "^ til* n&tiona of tUe earth a ijaTs not 'ioiM ax«) by & ' loceaa Uuit dews not •XTy afxactly tofte^. .3, tor ;,,.,. of , but ;J , le to h^n^ you yo'JT *-*-''^;»nt to -^t** r^ur ie-'^AT hi^3 cooMy i -« la© tr.at you -.'ill ■>T3 In tno a«.n-i«r /liv.. i .jo vorosedy by vui'' . . ..^ . I .o '■■Hifl py-oil' resronaioie co-il'i .a cari"ie-i into tiie ti.a rtunity to nktvif*^ i>«il««t> lor uasii ia_ - -'»s "^ill have 1- :j» v') 'Jone alcost continuous litexaxy aod scieatii'iiC' wozk thaty ' - Bit, within icnttti ••y has cease 1 ; x±m mine and th« work has be-Jii placed onth >t .or sale* A bod: as to ' . Ay \ift t^t the -^ r - .^. ^,. . _ , . ,w. ^ _ . , . - ^ the Loijtiiom Caiiromia over a. year trie r»ir '"'oh I :u"i^ Lecoiua rwspoii. f "^ > ■ , li. i not a Oh i.-i . on the to b9 a curtainty^ (wnon va reiili^e th:t :•- bti-tj +.:'.! io,i. faac xeceioed, but has not :' , -, _ y: — ' ion in returii at;*... . , .;- ^ . .^ .^ . - .-, , -^-^..^ . ., las to reniar in re -tt oik)» thatf out of the sii js of the -x w ii 3ums tor rare woziCB, tut '/aiua ul throu-ch tuair discovery of #hat is tbe xam valxia ^u tac • a few anu vi o ^) Or •J" i in thei r to present. Tj. • r •-^» TO ILL. - ^ 'IZ LAST r,. . M 07 :"^£3 LST" JR ABCr/^, 77AS, SO: J DAYG ATT.:]?. T32 L3:^"3R ^TiDSi;!^ I'7:IL3), CAJCJD TO OCCTO; TSO TILC ^AILY PAP.1^5 'tt.?S /-J_ lICaJCjD IT:_ TSATA C ' ' ; H ,70C,'J00. C0PI35 C^ ~ — " . ': - , . ui^. .^- 'JO SLIo-'iT ^TA.T.SAl"! ■ O ,; . . IT.RG.,M),.''^^ AT.TlLi '■1 - ON ^' "0 LI iTi::: iiic^i" < ^ci oaz a? riiosi: C0PI2S, TL5?.Drce oi)erating within him to work long, without change, through any of the unchanging forms that the daily affairs of some men creates, or through those forms that the processes of some of their larger schools will have put about them, will eventually be, for the man to become so stiff-necked, that the struggle on the part of this force to get (nit of, and awav from those forms, can cause tlie fixed and set man's neck physically to become suddenly limber: — to have become, for a time. — as it will seem to him,— broken Sucli a man, if lie eventually is to recover, first for a long time will have to walk about in the world with the connection between his head and his shoulders unable. — as he will have many times to believe, — -to longer support for any great length of time the state, following its agony, into which tlic soul that had once given to his body firmness, will have fallen. That "1" that such a man so constantly before, with liride. will have made use of. — will he, if back to his body there is to come, from his soul, a strength that is new. — with a marked degree of caution thereafter make use of. The man who has been brought to stand where something, tiiat is in every man, can behold all inner things, in action, will have been made aware that each man who would obtain more life must gain, above all things, at first courage. That in order himself greatly to live, those forms that he uses, through which into himself the force moves, must not be allowed to become stereotj'ped; or become about his soul a prisoner's shackles ,or a slave's locked bindings. Quicker from such forms, hardening about him, should he flee, than from a city down upon which molten lava is flowing. The work done by the man who would the truth discover, and by it be set free, must be to escape from the place where those forms are a city; one dying from its obverse ex- pression of the one vast unity; and from it escape, and somewhere get away from it, where there will be greater change: — variety. The man of daring will ever have to be passing, from any set of forms, — away; and if possible to some other place, into which no man has put weakness, by giving to it a name by which it has begun _ to become fixed. Rapidly, if possible, from every place that is beginning to take upon it that, which is age, away and into some unknown country, into which no man has before gone, should he, with all who are his, move. For from variety to variety, must the passage of that life be that is to increase: and, by the variety of matters lived among, grow to a capacity large enough to take into it, in consequence of the af- fection that it for them has had, the power that all of the things of the earth have in them; until, seeking always to find the good that is in every condition of life, such a man can know that, only from the everlasting; (whose eternitv itself is such, only for this: that it has been compounded out of a variety that is infinite), down through his understanding, into him, can there pass' that tremendous com- prehension that will lift him up and beyond all knowledge that, canned and labeled, has been put away upon shelves that are en- dowed to hold all antiquated, technically expressed, formulated utterance. Words can, of course .hardly touch matters in regard to which the Sphinx has so long been asking many, — and one question. To put even a reference to what is being pointed to, into the technical and formulated language of science, would be merely to cause the spirit of such an utterance from the letter of the forms, (from those traps that scientists, so-called, set to catch the birds of the mind), at once to flee away. There once upon a time was in the U. S. a handsome boy of the age of twelve years wdio, as he walked in a forest that was back of his father's farm, from the brooks running under the trees and the ponds; from the trees, as well, and their inhabitants; had had put into his head thoughts that caused his elders, with questioning looks to watch him, whenever the thoughts that in the forest he had obtained, he uttered. At this age, all things that; in such wanderings he found, he took to, and shared with his companions. There was, once upon a time, a youth, some of whose dreams as the years passed, he for others exchanged; and moved by the spirit that was working through those of another kind, he was led away, to go to a distant and great city. In the youth's face there remained not so much light as in the face of the boy there had been. There once ui)on a time was, in the U. S., a man whose eyes had gradually, with each passing year, grown to look as if they had be- come colder and harder. The boy, the youth, the man, people in- exactly speaking, ordinarily would have spoken of as the same. The soul of each was the same, but, (to try to express what words may not), within each, as the body had become older, the soul had been caused to go from it, farther back. The grown man had, after reaching manhood, succeeded in ac- (|uiring a vast number of things; and, at the time to which rhis writing relates, had great possessions. Upon him, on account of his great wealth, there had been conferred, (in the land where large numbers believe that there can be a brain-created democracy outside, before the real one of the heart has been established within), the title of "General." The name belonging to him, (which followed the title so conferred, that did not), was Woodburn, He was a man of sixty- five years of age. At the time referred to this man's body might, by one who had looked only upon the surface of the great pyramid, have seemed, from the neck to the waist, to bear some kind of re- semblance to it. Such a thought might have arisen out of the fact that, connected with each of these bodies, there was something held by them in common, of which each was significant. Of what that was. any tourist, — in so far as the world's literature has informcrl us, — seems not ever to have known. Death is that, of which what was material in each of these bodies was si'^^nillcant. Ciencral Woodl)urn at this time had become, and vvas the owner of l)lantations larj^er than are some of the countys of some of the American states. He owned, in various states, a sufficient amount of stock in ^JitTerent banks to control them, lie had money on deposit in others that formed a line that stretclied across a continent. Ships on seas and lakes he possessed, that carried cargoes between many ports. And, because of the fact that this man, (to whom the gen- erous boy, that he once had been, had, to his altered nature, be- come a stranger), out of the operations of his Imancial machinery, of which these possessions were a part, day l^y day took, (sometimes to himself consciously; sometimes not), from orphans and widows their little, to add it to his much, thereby of that much to make much more; (the losers, being before the juggernaut advance of his much, helpless, the forms that had become established about him, through which he worked, were all of the time building up about, and for his soul, its |)anopticon. And as its walls kept i)rcssing ever harder in- ward; as their thickness and compactness day after day was added to; the soul within began at last to cry out and, at first, to its body, that had lost all of the cai)acity that it had once had to hear it. It can be said that, in one waj% it at last begged and imi^lored the walls, that ought to have had ears. — of its body not. by their growing pressure upon it. to add to its almost unbearable torment. (Otherwise quickly would (as the soul knew) the time arrive when it would be authorized by the one whose eye looks ever down upon every bastile to shake down, and destroy its own body in order that, by the mind of that body, tliat would not hear, the soul itself should not be caused to perish. Rut the forms that had been brought about it had in such a way affected the body that, of all that its soul was saying, it would and could hear, now not anytliing. So liad the man's brain, through the forms through which his work had been done, been sliapcd, that the soul, by the use of it's language, (as, in the case of some men. to the extent of expressing a warning. — it may), had. into it, not been able to penetrate, to speak. Seeing the life that the body of the man was being induced, by his brain to live, the soul well knew that certain ffirms. which were being added to others, that the man already used, would, after they had been added, cause it to become as impossible, for it to remain within, and use that body (even though, without it, it had not another instrument through which to accomplish what ought to have been its destiny), as it would be for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. Wtirds, (although a renowned writer has said that they were) have not been invented to conceal thought. Neither were they invented as a means through which to withhold from men facts. Rut, there is knowledge to which some man will, whenever a whole generation is about, from the earth to depart, attain. Such knowledge the majority of the jjundits of those among the great schools that are most un- willing to have ears at all for the unformulated things that are new, denoimce as "Charlatanism." "Rut that knowledge, of which the one called "Charlatan" has had the kind of vision that does not err, (but which words then existing, cannot exjiress). has made of him a host, at whose .Lrreat table of wisdom will the sons of those who denounce him, and their institutions for centuries afterwards feed; although he, whom in theory they claim to remember, woud, if he came to take a seat at his own table there find manj^ who, against him would cry out, — as-erting that one, having such an ajipearance, they do not know, and that, from such a table any one who wore a garb so modern as was his. ought to be driven. Such children of the kingdom of greater wisdom, who had brought down out of heaven bread, that myriads of institutions would after- wards be endowed, by some who would have abhorred those who had been the causes of them, to study their work, could alwaj'S have turned to those who denounced them as "cpiacks" and have said: "You study the lexicon in which are words, and tlie letters out of which such words are formed. There is another book, that, as its words are not from the letter that kills, but out of the deeds that create life. — lives To that greater book, any man can go, and from it learn, — as any man can, by doing the things that are there set down to be done, — whether I am, as you say, but know not how to determine, a 'Charlatan,' or not. For the language of the book, to those who will do what will enable them to read it, is not vague, and in it is tliere not any error at all". True, — as to some of the knowledge in it, — is it for all who are not willing to do the things that will enable them to know it, that, for them, the words of one of the sages of China are correct: "They who know, do not tell; they who tell, do not know". Better would it have been to have said, — of "They who know," this: They who know, would tell if in any earthly dictionary, language, that might help them, they could find. But knowledge comes first; not language; and language to express it has to be created, after it has come. For there is no royal road, either for king or scholar, or for a man illiterate, to learning But the illiterate man who will perform the deed, from which the scholar will, wanting courage to undertake it, shrink, can acquire knowledge to which all of the endowed mechanical apparatus furnished to aid the other will not ever be able to convey him. Therefore is it open to any man having sufficient courage, through doing, (without being dependent upon any other for help, or being upon his formulated language dependent), to learn. Along the pathway that through trackless spaces their deeds will for them make, alone must they proceed, through their courage correctly led to believe that they, across the surface of the inner waters, are moving along the line upon which the truth, — that will love them for the cause that they have themselves many things, loved mucli, — will be at the same time towards them coming. Setting at last, as its consummation, the soul free from all of its bonds, because of its deeds, — will it have become free, indeed. Having taken away from the soul need any longer to remain in solitary confinement; back once more, even through its body, to its ears will there have come oppor- tunity through the one universal language, that eventually will be- tween all of the worlds be spoken, from worlds other than this, to obtain information. To the soul's eyes that so long have been pre- vented from seeing beyond the body's dark, will a more perfect sight come, that will enable it, from every one of the worlds to catch their varying lights. Thereafter will all men cease to make futile efforts, by rules that will be binding in the external world, to regulate the con- duct of others; or, in that mistaken way, try to bring to them that which can become their freedom. For, before their freedom can come; first must all men be set free from the prolonged death rattle of "MY" and MINE" and,— regardless of others,— "I". For, the views (that are as much property as is any other kind of it), that those who externally reform speak of as their own can. if they are not ready at the moment that they learn what is true immediately to drop them, bring to their bodies their own death rattle, or even cause the soul that is within them to perish. "MINE" and "MY" and "I" were the expressions, passing from within him outward, in regard to his large possessions, that were almost continuously upon the lips of "General" Woodburn. Although it was in no sense as a reformer that he spoke, such words can have, if too continuously used, upon all men in the world an effect that will be ])ronounced: and of longer duration than any drug, from without, that the man could have taken into himself. For not only do those words cause the soul in a way of its own to reel; but they, since they into it could not go, upward by it had thev to be thrown, — and out. This, did the forces of nature that, through entering into forms acquire in- telligence, perceive. But, (in that differing from the envious, among his fellows), against such a man do not those forces rail, any more than would a discerning sober man, against a drunkard, who had been made drunk. Forces that have been clothed upon, and had put about them garments ever changing and deathless, have a kindlier thought. So, when they see a man putting himself to death through a form of intoxication, (with which that produced after drink may not compare), they wish only, — if such a thing may be, — to save for him his soul which, otherwise his deeds will have lost. Their natures, that have become as well rounded as can become a soul that is unselfish and kind, perceive that the riches of many rich men have often been, (just as envy upon the part of others also has been), thrust upon them. By such forces is it known that sucli men have heen cau^Iit in a net many times harder to escape from tlian tlie net that was cast in the arena of Rome about the body of the gladiator. They perceive that it is often not easier for the man ownine: possessions, that stretch across a continent, to dispose of them (|uickly, than it would be for a beggar to go and ste^l the money with which to buy them. So slight is such an ownershi]) observed to be, that an investigation called for by the owner, that would e.vtend over a life time, could not accurately inform him even of what was occurring in conection witli the greater part of all that he had the privilege (if it is such), of calling his. So, at the bogus "General" such forces did not any more rail than they would have done at other owners, much more admirable than he, of millions of money. Of course his possessions compelled him to have to; but these forces saw also other reasons why he perpetually was saying "MfNIv' and "MV" and so constantly "I". Hundreds of men, brought into contact with him, who had n(jt tiic nobler form of perception that would have seen wealth to be in other matters, placed it in material possessions. As every low order of imagination places, upnii the highest pinacle to which it is able to reacli, that of which it has tliought as being of greatest value as its god. tliey had bowed down before him, (as being that which he owned); and before it. through him, they crooked their knees as basely as other men have done before other potentates. — or any whose positions that are sig- nificant of other material forms of wealth. Therefore, saw these intelli- gent forces tliat. less responsible was he himself, than were those who cringed before this Captain (who owned industries), for the desease that gradually was putting his soul, as well as his body to death. Looking down upon the boyhood that had been pressed back from him. but had not yet gone wholly away and apart from his soul; looking upon youth who had stood half way between the boy and the man; they saw that there was something in him yet that could be saved. So they de- termined that they would save it. At the time of the severance of the soul from the body, would be their opportunity to do this. At what moment that severance was to occur, out of what is yet to be described, they could calculate. The man upon whom, by many of its newspapers and magazines there had been conferred tiie title that in their land is more formidable than that of Duke or Karl or Marcpiis. in the majority- of the countries that are older; a title that, in his land, is more envied by many called democrats than are the other title's, by the democrats of other lands. — "Captain of Industry". — was one day seated in his residence. It was one, compared with which many palaces of other countries may not be. To himself he was saying: "What have I not accomplished! T liave I'inished a great building and tomorrow, from ground to roof I will have it stored with abundant wealth. Then will I go to Paris and to Rome; and nowhere will T walk. Rut, always, in the most expensive con- veyances, will I ride. And all of the most costly things, that the people of those countries desire least to part with, will I buy. I, — " At this moment a maid entering, handed him a card. Of the coming of the card he could not have said "It was T that brought it; I caused it to come; 1." No. For not he, but the discerning; the intelli- gent; the designing forces of nature had enabled the card to be brought. As the Captain of Industry held it in it, — his hand trembled. From his check tied away a portion of its life. Upon it. the color left was that of a corpse. He rang a bell, and a glass of water that was brought, when swallowed, revived him. But, upon his brow rested drops of sweat that, to those forces of nature, that were intelligent, foretold for him an agony not far away, — to come. Why. of it was the card that had come to him significant, could not any eartlily physician have told. For. although homeopathic physicians say that their system is, because it has announced some causes and their common effects, a science, the older system is not. neither one of them seems to know from what source are the causes of deseases; nor that, if those be but first re- moved, no mental treatments, either absent or present; no use of drugs, will any more be needed on earth. Xor seems any practitioner to have discerned that, if sucii causes be not removed, it ought to be to the sufferer a matter indifferent whether upon the body there be an external appearance of health, or not. The man who had sent to "General" Woodburn his card had gone away after having been told that he could not see liim. But, by his proximity to him, because of the character of the wrong that "General" Woodburn had done him, forth from the man and to him had gone something, than the consequences of which not any, of any deadly drugs, could be more certain; though of it neither of those men knew. "By the way" the next day a visitor said, in the office of "General" Woodburn to him; "I've heard that you've determined to fire Burroughs, the captain of our ship Tasmania". "Not determined. I've already done it. After I've made up my mind to do a thing nothing is postponed. It's done. You know my rule. The man had reached forty. He there- fore is no longer in my employment". "But, you've always had good luck with Burroughs," the other responded. "He has never had one single mishap". "He is over forty, I said. I work out my rules; and after they have been worked out to my satisfaction, they go into prac- tice." "But, even after that", — "There is no after that." "You know, as well as I do", his companion continued, "that, because of the money expended upon surgeons for his bed-ridden boy", — "Of such matters I undertake to know nothing; have not the time to go any more into one, than into a hundred, that immediately, if I considered one, would crop up." "But said liis companion, "I'm a stockholder in the company", — "The answer to that" said the General, "is: Get yourself voted into my place and run it." The man talked of the daughter of Burroughs, who had consumption, and had to be sent west. Seeing finally that the other was not to be moved, he took up his hat and departed. Twice after- wards, during the d^y, "General Woodburn repeated the rule which he had established, that prevented the employment of men after forty. The matter was the last time referred to that afternoon, when he stood, with his hands on the open door of his automobile, about to enter it and start for his home. He was saying to an acquaintance: "Dollar for dollar, a man over forty don't give the same return, in energy ex- changed for it, that the younger man does." "But there is something besides", — "There is nothing besides."' "Yes sir", said a man who had been drinking, who had previously stood some feet away listening, "There is". He then stood, without at once saying anything further, vmsteadily upon his feet, while with a questioning expression he gazed upon the countenance of the Captain of Industry. "You say" he then continued, "that you are not going to employ any more people after they get to forty. You think that's aH. No Sir. You are about to deal with one; over fortj', in a way that you never did deal with any other in all your life before." The man, to whom he was a stranger, and who was wholly unknown to the "General" had, as drunken men sometimes do, seen something that the soberest of a man's friends do not see; that drunken men sometimes can, and as soon as they do generally forget that they have seen. This time the countenance of General Woodburn did not turn gray. He may possibly have suspected that the drunken man had referred to any one of a hundred occurrences; and then, mentally, he may have asked: "But, what is a drunken man?" and in the woods an echo might have repeated: "is a drunken man!" And, after all, what is a drunken man, — and why? Exists there an institution that either makes use of or discusses wine; that can answer the question that some day a differ- ent kind of echo may, in many places be asking And all of the time surgical forces of nature about this man, whose set rules he had been believing nothing could loosen, were continuing, — (as about his soul, his body previously had done), — closer to gather. Nature's intelligent forces, with pens dipped in that fire of which, — as well as of death, the pyramid of Cheops is significant, upon the walls of this man's body with that fire, that gave out an odor as the pens moved, wrote. He knew that these words would, when speaking, — (as words that inspeak as well, as those that speak out, sometimes may) — cause him slightly to change the direction in which he had, until then, travelled. They would cause him to hear things, that would, after a while sound much louder than the voices that were becoming, day after day, feebler. So feeble had his utterances grown that he continued to mutter only, "MY" and "MINE" and alwavs and unceasingly "I". "I", (lid he continue to repeat, almost nntil about him, the hands of other men were wrappinj"- the cerements of the body to be laid away. And about him and over him there came to be closed his tomb. But before this, and close to the time of the winter solstice, had the intelligent forces caused, within his nostrils, the odor of suli)hur ttj be. At the moment that the sun was fartherest south, the centers of his palms had they pierced* Upon the evening before that, they had caused him to stand before the setting sun, that was surrounded by wdiile the whole heavens were overspread with clouds, rose colored anrl purple and .gulden, and within himself this c|uestion of the great sun to ask. "Oh wonderful cause of all the external beauty for men that tliere is, am I ever again, — or tomorrow- with you to rise? Am I never, after this night, with these physical eyes, upon you again, to look? For, as I now have been shown, the night, net of this, but of another world comes. Through the night that long is to seem, and all of tlie things tliat 1 am to find in it, I am to pass. Will my soul out of the dregs of that cup, too begin, when you will have begun to, upward to rise There then came the night; and himself rising, — soon after its be- ginning, — above his motionless bod-*'- was; and looking- down upon it. a voice coming out of himself, to it said: "And now you are dead". Mo- tionless and at rest, became suddenly, then, all things about him. And under a gigantic calm, far and near, rested the whole of nature's forces. Aw^aiting then its stir, strengthening himself, for what he knew was to come, and for the motion, that out of the motionless w^ould first begin to show him all that was to come upon him, he, — knowing that he- had to be, — at rest, watched. Watching, out of what he looked on, he perceived: That there can be found, by the one who has accjuired the inclination to search for, in order to find it, in the midst of every one of nature's movements, — merc^^ This can all of those who have among men, in number, friends least; may all of those who go -where others will care least to follow; beyond all other kinds of help, help most. DowMi, as soon as this knowded,ge had been given to him, out of the heavens above, with a roar, came what seemed to be a thousand storms that shook the eartli when they struck it. About him whirled they; and out of them, at him struck all of the forces of nature, intelligent to de- stroy, to which have been given the oower to rend apart, if they can the attached portions of the souls of ;nen, and bear the sundered parts to the lower air. there to destroy them. .But that one in him that the intelligent forces of nature had seen to be the thing in him worth saving, had proved to be for him. Iiis protection throughout the whole of their first onslaught; saving him from that state tliat might have be- come his; the state of a soul that selfishness, on earth can prepare such a soul to ready for; the state of one to be lost. The storms that uoon, and about him rushed, seemed to be with- drawing. And then, beginning vaguely to see some of the things of that world, that everlasting are, of which the things of this earth are but shadows, in physical shape destined every one of them to dissolve; he by a voice from what he saw not, was told that back of him there vyas one of them. He turned to find that, the mercy of which, to save him- self, from the destruction that otherwise would have come to him, he had had quickly to be taught; that -which in his boyhood he had practiced, having new enabled him to comprehend tliat which alone would give to him protection; was, as a mountain at his back; a gigantic rock, to which, facing it now, for a moment, he clung; that stood in the midst of a vast; a space-ending; a star dissolving; a world-absorbing ocean, (^ver its billows rolled something, by which the -waters of the oceans of earth, and their billows, are from continent to continent driven. About liim a thousand other things had come. Things saw he, that could others have helped, but might not him. And among those hosts of things that others might have helped was there not, nor anywhere, as he i-iow knew, any one of those things that upon earth he daily had considered to be his strength; and had made use of, as instruments, with which to defeat others in their ailfairs, and in accomplishment for himself, pass beyond the accomplishment of many of his fellows. Alone, as must every man that dies, go, — into the darkness he had gone. Rut, as about him the destroying intelligences continued ever more compactly to gather, and his soul with their forces pierce; more of that world into which he had been taken, was he becoming able to become aware of; until, ahead of him, and out of and beyond all of its night, could he see far away at last its greater harbor, where t);ather together the waters that have been stilled; and stretching from within it, and beyond, its vast and wide city resplendent. But though now within him had come a deathless longing to, into it at this time was he not to be permitted to pass. For the fourth hour of a new day to the earth had come; and soon after, beginning to rise up over it could he see the great sun of the world from which for a time the soul that was his had severed. Something within it yet, however, was there that still to it belonged. Something that, by the light of that sun, could be taken hold of, and by it, to its earth be drawn back. So to him, was the sun that causes massive figures of rock on earth to sound now saying: "From you tomb call I you, facing me, ,to come forth, with your soul that has now been prepared within the highest air to henceforth move, upon my face to look. Where has been planted the purple Escholzia; Where have been planted the palms, each time victorious over death, that time after time towards me out of their bodies have risen up, — from your sepulchre arise now, and out into my garden come. For the whole of the work of a life time on earth, have you, not through time that otherwise would have seemed endless, within one night, in a world that was not of it, been able to undo. Age apart from age, are there men who through sudden changes passing, out of death, can be enabled to come back to life. Ages ago found I one. Ages have passed during which, I've been waiting to find in you, another." PROPOSALS TO THE BOOK BUYING PUBLIC A reader of profundity who has read this book, will have seen that he could have expended the cost of a million tons of other books bound in cloth of purple and gold and nnt have had the opportunity to' oh^ah-V'wKatrsiter a time, nieu may from th-i«. Therefore, to profound men are the words that follow, spoken: An indebtedness standing against the writer of $27,000, makes it necessary that through one or another of his writings that sum shall be at once obtained. Therefore he makes the following proposals: Single copies in print will be sent postage paid to all persons who will take the trouble to procure and send a postofifice order for twenty- cents to the writer. Wholesale, by the hundred they will be sold at 15 cents a copy. By hundreds of thousands, wholesale, they will be sold at 10 cents a copy. To each of the first five periodicals paying $5,000.00 for the right, one time to print the work under author's copyright that right will be extended. Typewritten copies, having in them prefaces written with pen and ink by the writer, that may either, all of them be the same or different, in each one of the copies sold, will be sold for $5,000.00 a copy. The greater part of the indebtedness above spoken of is secured by mortgage, and trust deed against ground in Berkeley, California, upon which once grew, before the indebtedness had occured a rose of sharon; brought from the plain of that name in Palestine to the mother of the writer, and upon this ground planted close to a palm tree that his father had there planted. Should this indebtedness through his works quickly enough be paid off, it is the writer's wish, upon the ground at an early date to see arise a great publishing concern, out through the doors of which can be conveyed to all of mankind knowledge, such as before them the people of the world have not had placed any other opportunity to obtain. ADAIR WELCKER. JLicderer, Street & Zeus Co., Printers "hrsln evBn look upon mat can ritre be soon to ce liviri, ; a, o ^r o-currences, this: a ^molo r«cfolQ# at the hop of ^lose ;:i. mts, . jia "ly am .,aai befn ai-'.;^rs their >r; /Jio, taat ha aas en o sen taem t'o'iie ^^d on earth no otheor njiler, has . the Is expro his will o rie tias caused tneir >ts to -^o; until now a. id at last that people haa set free fran the i on:persecution, la^tiri.r2; o wO years, because those or other natioris yio should uafe acclaimed this vroik have themselves aut-rnf? 33 yeina receiv9d the one throu.!:h rrhoni it has^ n ax^nil exbre :.9d as, for a oiuch briefer period did, ..... r tC^ *ooo years a-^o a class ^dthin the vriiole Piation - . -, .r the acts of that class they have since p.^rsecuted. .e one throu'^h whom ^as done the woii^ of Tfhich this : ^1 ) CO it as ^ieli as co?-^- • --^*on« For near fc ,a:. t'v ion ciat -.. ..^.j, through tiie • ... ....t it's p. ^^.^^3 H)ie caused to Jo, tcie mitioi ciief glory, l^oan held under a ..ond to the hatrea or a cliss a -' -^r nations. ]3at noff the piice timt, diing ij ^^^^o ^ia» "^ )cn accuaiuiated, with wuich to dJit"^ iias .bopn paid in full, to tiiose wao camot any - ■'■ at/f ro.Ti thiB L" ^^^-^ •^'•^ of their uatre^a ta-Jf titej' ,,..a,ve .x^-.. had, for tue .......u.a r>f this r-o-le, t-i I hifeheat price paid that taey could --a , to , : ar^ thiin to i;;© free. After,_ aad it lUay Ipe b^i'ore, ttie writer aa;i,(ii it sfte-ll "no couie abon-if^* b^-n ni^de aljileto pay OxH xha i .33 . - hi»a a lid the pro J, _ on tie Ici...- . o- '— ■ . let I aud c .r obii,, ens he" is equally doijirous to l paid, it is his interxtion to have t let pii --^h th^r^a otaer -3, in one f^' '-^-^ard to the coiiiiniT of "■■'lich taaie -4tu:. -.e of in the ..:o\7 X thi»se 4all not spoak of hi..-self ; but '^ i^Bar, that shall he speak" ^ bv- Adair Yelc^er* LX LIBRARY OF CONGRESS To any U. S. address there will upon receipt of Post Office mone for the amounts named: 018 603 043 6 I "A BOOK SCIENTIFICALLY SHOWING HOW A SOUL THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN DID NOT COME TO BE LOST." Twenty Cents "A BOOK RELATING TO THE ART WORK OF THE FIRE AND THE METHOD BY WHICH THE CITY THAT NEEDS NO SUN MAY BE BUILT." Twenty Cents "PEOPLE WHOM YOU MAY MEET AT THE FAIR." (Cloth Wbund. 160 Pages) Ninety -five Cents "WINE BIBBERS AND SINNERS." Twenty Cents "HOW A DEAD MAN WAS DRAWN FROM HIS TOMB AND BACK AGAIN TO LIFE." Twenty Cents To lecturers who wish to deliver lectures upon the topmost of all the Sciences, — Human Nature, — and then sell copies to their audiences, they will be furnished at ten dollars a hundred... To institutions that wish to purchase them to be used as the text books of the science, ten dollars a hundred. People unable to send for or purchase them, will find copies of nearly all of the author's works in large numbers of the libraries throughout nearly all of the countries of Europe; in Australia; New Zealand; in some of the libraries of Western and Eastern Asia; and throughout the U. S.; some of these being the libraries of the world's greater institutions, that, receiving part, have asked that they might have whatever should come from his pen; others being institutions that do not catalogue works unless they be thought to be of permanent value; from which have been sent to him their formal documents, showing under what numbers his works have been entered and are, with their greatest care, to be preserved. Adair Welcker 508 Berkeley National Bank Bldg., Berkeley, Cailfornia