,a ,,dead ,,man',s ,,diary4             
,a ,,dead ,,man',s ,,diary              
,written after his ,decease4      ,,with
 ,a ,,preface ,,by      ,g4,t4          
,,bettany1 ,m4,a4      ,i sent my ,soul 
through the ,invisible1    ,some letter 
of that ,after ,life to spell3      ,and
 by-and-by my ,soul return'd to me1     
,and answered1 ',i myself am ,heav'n and
 ,hell4'      ,rubiyt of ,omar ,khayym4 
7,fitzgerald's ,translation47           
,,ward1 ,,lock ,,and ,,co41             
,,london1 ,,new ,,york ,,and            
,,melbourne4      #ahij4      7,all     
rights reserved47          ,,preface4   
,the literature purporting to describe  
the state of mankind after death1       
whether as ,hades1 ,intermediate ,state1
 ,purgatory1 ,hell1 or ,heaven1 has     
mostly erred in the direction of too    
great detail4 ,on the one hand1  we have
 had those who with ,swedenborg declare 
that after death a man  is so little    
changed that he even does not know but  
he is living in  the present world2 that

 the resemblances between the two worlds
 are so  great1 that in the spiritual   
world there are cities1 with palaces and
  houses1 and also writings and books1  
employments and merchandises4  ,on the  
other hand1 we have the picture drawn by
 the writer of ,letters  from ,hell1 of 
imaginary houses and scenes1 of seeming 
actions1 of  semblances of men compelled
 to appear to be doing after death the  
very things they did in life1 despair   
all the while gnawing at their  hearts4 
,archdeacon ,farrar1 in ,chapter ,,iv4  
of his ,mercy and ,judgment1  has given 
a varied and horrifying series of       
extracts from ancient  and modern       
divines describing their detailed       
conceptions about the  future of the    
wicked4 ,as to the future of the        
beatified1 no one  needs reminding of   
the multitude of word-pictures1 often   
mutually  contradictory1 in which their 
existence has been depicted4    ,thus we
 see that the human mind cannot choose  
but speculate in some  fashion on the   

future state1 while no man has the right
 to claim  that he had said the last    
word on the subject4 ,it may therefore  
be  confidently anticipated that the    
remarkable narrative here presented1  of
 which considerable portions have       
already appeared1 serially1 in the      
,english edition of ,lippincott's       
,monthly ,magazine1 will find a very    
large number of interested readers1 who 
will be glad to peruse it in  the       
connected and completed form1 in which  
it is best calculated to  express the   
author's full meaning and experiences4  
,it will not by its  length or excess of
 detail overburden the reader1 nor does 
it claim  to be more than a narrative of
 experience which may be left to convey 
its own lessons4 ,the writer1 who       
prefers to remain anonymous1 is one     
whose essays and stories have been      
received with high appreciation on  both
 sides of the ,atlantic4 ,his narrative 
is put forth as his actual  experience  
during a lengthened absence from the    

body1 during which  he was believed to  
be dead4 ,of course no other living     
person can  confirm or deny his         
experiences1 though many may deem them  
incredible1  fictitious1 or the         
imaginings or visions of a trancelike   
state4 ,i do  not pretend to decide to  
what category they belong1 nor do ,i    
feel  called upon to condemn or approve 
any of the assertions or opinions  thus 
put forward4 ,if any one holds          
theological convictions which appear  to
 conflict with them1 ,i would remark    
that the publishers1 in letting  the    
,dead ,man speak for himself1 do not    
hold themselves responsible  for his    
opinions1 merely having assured         
themselves of the serious  spirit in    
which they are narrated4    ,the record 
of these experiences being given in the 
form of a diary1 the  writer has not    
felt bound to tell his story with the   
simple directness  which is expected in 
a work of fiction1 but has noted down in
 his  narrative1 as is the manner of    

diarists1 the thoughts which the record 
of his experiences have aroused4 ,though
 these occasional digressions  have no  
immediate bearing upon the facts        
recorded1 they will1 ,i think1  be found
 to contain some interesting reading1   
nor do they1 in my  opinion1 interfere  
seriously with the completeness of the  
narrative as  an artistic whole4    ,in 
conclusion1 ,i would add that the writer
 only desires that his  experiences may 
be read in a candid spirit1 and that as 
no man can  prove him to be wrong who   
has not actually entered the world of   
spirits1 those who reject his narrative 
will endeavour to maintain  an attitude 
of suspended judgment1 until they are in
 a position to  judge for themselves4   
,for myself1 ,i can but say that the    
moral of the  author's teaching is      
worthy of the most serious attention1   
and if put  into practice there can be  
no question that it would conduce       
greatly to  the happiness of mankind4   
,g4,t4 ,bettany4          ,,contents4   

,,page      ,,preface                   
#e        ,,chapter ,i4      ,,explains 
,,my ,,title                            
#ac        ,,chapter ,,ii4      ,,deals 
,,with ,,death ,,and ,,the ,,dread ,,of 
,,it                  #ai               
,,chapter ,,iii4      ,,deals ,,with    
,,life ,,and ,,the ,,lust ,,of ,,it1    
,,but ,,has    ,,no ,,direct ,,bearing  
,,on ,,my ,,story                       
#bf        ,,chapter ,,iv4      ,i ,,die
                                        
#df        ,,chapter ,v4      ,,is ,,of 
,,an ,,explanatory ,,nature ,,only      
#eh        ,,chapter ,,vi4      ,,tells 
,,of ,,my ,,first ,,awful ,,awakening   
,,in ,,hell1    ,,and ,,of ,,the        
,,shameful ,,sin ,,which ,,brought      
,,me ,,thither                          
#fg        ,,chapter ,,vii4      ,,shows
 ,,the ,,fitness ,,of ,,my ,,punishment 
#hg        ,,chapter ,,viii4      ,i    
,,make ,,an ,,unexpected ,,discovery    
,,in ,,hell1 ,,and    ,,meet ,,with ,,an
 ,,old ,,acquaintance                   

#id        ,,chapter ,,ix4      ,i ,,see
 ,,some ,,strange ,,sights ,,in ,,hell1 
,,and ,,am    ,,favoured ,,with         
,,something ,,in ,,the ,,nature    ,,of 
,a ,,sermon                             
#aac        ,,chapter ,x4      ,a       
,,love-,,story ,,in ,,hell              
#abh        ,,chapter ,,xi4      ,,the  
,,mystery ,,of ,,the ,,dead ,,who ,,die 
#adh        ,,chapter ,,xii4      ,i    
,,see ,,the ,,brother ,,whom ,,we ,,have
 ,,all ,,lost             #afg          
,,chapter ,,xiii4      ,a ,,dream ,,of  
,,eternal ,,rest                        
#ahj        ,,chapter ,,xiv4      ,,hope
                                        
#bjf        ,,chapter ,,xv4             
,,heaven                                
#bac          ,illustration             
,,chapter ,i4    ,,explains ,,my        
,,title4      ,it has always been a     
favourite fancy of mine that ,i should  
like to  die upon some sunny1 songful   
morning1 in spring or early summer4 ,the
  thought of dying in the night1 and of 

finding this thin and arial  something1 
which ,i have learned to call my soul1  
being driven  remorselessly nightward1  
as ,adam and ,eve were driven from      
,paradise2  the seeing it in            
imagination1 a spectral1 unsubstantial  
shadow of  myself1 flitting a-shivering 
out into the black-wombed darkness1 and 
fumbling with filmy hands that it might 
clasp the closer around it  the warm    
familiar robe of flesh1 only to find    
that robe fallen away  for ever--this   
thought1 ,i must confess1 fills me at   
all times with an  abhorrent loathing   
and dread4    ,to look up by night at   
the cold glitter of the stars1 and to   
fancy my  disembodied spirit winging its
 weary way thereto1 through fathomless  
leagues of void and voiceless ether1    
causes me ever to shiver1 and to  turn  
shudderingly to earth again2 but the    
thought of passing peacefully  away upon
 some sunny1 summer morning seems less  
like dying than like  stepping out of   
doors to be among the birds and the     

butterflies4 ,then  the heaven of my    
hopes would not seem so very distant    
after all 7and  oh6 how much more       
heavenly and homelike would that heaven 
appear did  ,i but know it to be this   
side of the stars671 and my first entry 
into the dim and shadowy realm of the   
spirit-world would seem the  less       
strange and unfamiliar for my having to 
pass out on my way to it  through the   
fields1 the flowers1 and the sunshine   
that ,i love so well4    ,to me1        
however1 in the utter solitude of       
midnight waking1 and in the  scarcely   
less utter solitude of day-dreaming in  
the midst of men1 the  thought which    
ever most oppresses me in the           
contemplation of death1 is  not so much 
the ,unknown which lies beyond1 as the  
thought of its awful  loneliness1--the  
thought that human faces may shine on my
 face1 human  hands lie clasped in mine1
 and human voices bear me company up to 
the  very boundary line of that still   
and silent land1 but that when that     

boundary line is once reached1 all these
 must fail and forsake me1 and  ,i must 
turn to face the unknown darkness naked1
 desolate1 and alone4    ,but why do ,i 
allow my thoughts1 you say1 to brood    
thus morbidly upon  death and the death 
moment8 ,i will tell you4 ,because ,i   
who now write  to you have--save only in
 the last and uttermost giving up of the
  spirit--been for some narrow space of 
time dead2 because on me there  once    
fell that thin and impalpable veil which
 cuts off1 as by a wall  of vast and    
impenetrable night1 the dead one from   
those whom he leaves  behind4    ,the   
facts of the matter are simply these4   
,some years ago ,i became  seriously    
ill1 grew worse day by day1 and was     
pronounced dying1 and  finally dead4    
,dead ,i apparently was1 and dead ,i    
remained to all intents  and purposes   
for the greater part of two days1 after 
which1 to the  intense and utter        
astonishment of my friends and of the   
physicians1 ,i  exhibited symptoms of   

returning vitality1 and in the course of
 a week  or two was convalescent4 ,the  
medical and scientific aspects of the   
case are1 ,i am assured by those most   
competent to judge1 of unusual          
interest1 but it is not to them that ,i 
now wish to direct attention4 ,it  is   
rather to that dim borderland betwixt   
life and death1 wherein the  spirit     
hovers on uncertain pinion1 as if       
hesitating whether to return  to the    
body it has lately tenanted1 or to wing 
its way to the shadowy  heights of the  
world ,unseen4    ,where1 during those  
two-score hours1 ,i would ask1 was my   
soul1 ghost1  or life-principle8 ,had it
 passed into some intermediate          
spirit-realm1  there to await till the  
,father of ,spirits should command it   
either  finally to quit the mortal      
habitation in which it had so long found
  a home1 or to return thereto till such
 time as ,he should call it to          
,himself8 ,or was it still hovering over
 the body1 struggling and  striving to  

free itself from the fetters which bound
 it to that which1  without it1 were but
 a senseless and inanimate clod8    ,to 
that question ,i am prepared with an    
answer1 and so strange a  one1 that ,i  
cannot hope my story will be regarded   
with anything but  incredulity1 nor can 
,i reasonably expect it to be otherwise1
 for  ,i am aware that what ,i am about 
to relate ,i myself should reject       
unhesitatingly were it proffered me on  
the testimony of another4               
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,,ii4    ,,deals ,,with       
,,death ,,and ,,the ,,dread ,,of ,,it4  
,if the thoughts which are coursing     
through my brain at this moment be  not 
less gruesome to read than they are to  
write1 this chapter will1 ,i  fear1 be  
but sorry reading2 for ,i feel strangely
 depressed and nervous1  as ,i settle   
down to the opening pages of my diary4  
,the wind is raging and roaring outside 
until the stout walls of the  house seem
 to rock and sway like tree-tops1 and   

the sudden gusts and  squalls make my   
startled heart bound and beat faster in 
my bosom1 and  turn me sick with a sense
 of loneliness and of loss4    ,even    
when ,i lie warm in my bed the sound of 
the wind at midnight  strikes a chill   
through me1 so that ,i shiver in spite  
of the blankets4  ,as it comes shrieking
 and sobbing through key-hole and       
lattice1 the  very doors and windows    
seem to partake of my superstition1 and 
to be  touched with some uncanny dread2 
for long after it has died away ,i  hear
 them creaking complainingly among      
themselves1 as if they too were  nervous
 and in fear4 ,in the wind's shriek at  
such times there is always  to me some  
suggestion of the sights it has seen1   
and of the ruin it has  wrought4 ,i seem
 to see1 as ,i listen to its wailing1 a 
weary moon that  looks out white and wan
 upon a bleak heath1 where a dead woman 
lies  straining a living babe to her    
milkless breast2 or upon a waste of     
hurrying waters that heave and roar and 

hurl themselves in huge billows  upon   
one desolate figure1 clinging           
despairingly to a broken mast4 ,and     
then there is a sudden lull in the      
storm2 the moon is hidden by clouds     
once more1 and the infant's wail1 the   
strong man's cry1 and the shriek  of the
 wind1 gloating in savage exultation    
over its ghastly secrets1  die away into
 a distant rumble1 and all is still save
 the beating of my  heart1 and the      
stealthy creaking of door and casement4 
,even as ,i write ,i can hear its       
wailing so die away in the distance1 and
  ,i seem to see it crouching1 still and
 quiet and panther-like1 yet ever       
gathering itself together1 and creeping 
nearer and nearer1 so that it  may take 
me unaware1 and in one sudden bound     
sweep down upon me1 as an  eagle swoops 
upon his prey1 and bear me away to      
destruction4    ,listen to it           
now6--whistling1 wailing1 shrieking1    
like a live thing6 ,is  it any wonder1  
on such a night1 and with a sound in the

 air like that  of innumerable          
lamentations1 that ,i feel strangely    
conscious of the  near approach of      
death1 and cannot dissociate my thoughts
 from      ,the knell1 the shroud1 the  
mattock1 and the grave1    ,the deep    
damp vault1 the darkness1 and the worm8 
,for ,i do fear death1 as ,i believe we 
all do in some moods4  ,notwithstanding 
our reiterated beliefs in ,christ and in
 ,immortality2  notwithstanding our     
prayers1 hymn-singing1 and heartfelt    
declarations  of our trust in ,god1 and 
in ,his care for us1 are there not      
moments  in the life of each of us when 
the human nature within recoils in  dumb
 and desolate protest from the thought  
of an existence in which  the body will 
be left to decay8 ,we think at such     
times of our own  death and burial4 ,we 
picture the mourning coaches setting    
out1 with  solemn pomp and pageantry of 
woe1 to bear us away to our last earthly
  resting-place4 ,we see them drive     
back--briskly now1 and as though the    

grief were left behind with the         
coffin--to the darkened house1 and  we  
see the mourners alight and re-enter to 
draw up the blinds with a  sigh of      
thinly-disguised satisfaction1 and to   
turn with a natural if  humiliating     
relief to life and the things of life   
again4 ,and as we  think of the darkness
 coming on1 and of that deserted body of
 ours1  which had once so craved for    
light and warmth and human              
companionship1  lying1 in the first     
awful night of desolation1 away out     
under the sods  in that dreary cemetery1
 we can almost fancy that we see the    
uneasy  soul1 restless even in heaven1  
stealing sadly to earth again1 and      
hovering1 for very companionship1 over  
the forsaken mound that covers  its     
ancient comrade4    ,so1 too1 there are 
moments of midnight waking1 when we lie 
on our bed  as in a grave1 and feel the 
awful thought of death borne in upon us 
with unutterable1 intolerable horror4   
,then the darkness which shuts  out     

those objects that in the day-time      
distract the attention of our  outward  
eye1 and of our mind1 serves only to    
make our mental vision  doubly keen1 and
 to concentrate all our faculties1 as to
 one inward  focal point of light1 on   
that hateful thought4 ,then do we seem  
to  feel the earth rushing swiftly on   
its way1 as if eager to hurry us  to our
 own dissolution2 and then do we stretch
 forth impotent hands  and vain1        
striving hopelessly to stay it on its   
course4 ,yet ever is  our striving of   
none avail3 ,death1 hideous and         
inexorable1 stares us  in the face--a   
wall of vast and impenetrable night1    
which closes  in upon us on every side4 
,we gasp and choke as though some bony  
and  cruel fingers lay clutching at our 
throat4 ,is there no way1 we cry1  with 
heart strained unto bursting1 is there  
no way by which we may  escape the      
,inescapable8--no loop-hole through     
which we may creep1 and  elude this     
black and grisly thing8 ,but from the   

hollow womb of night  comes back the    
sullen answer1 ,escape there is none1   
and then1 like  doomed criminals who    
snatch greedily at a day's reprieve1 we 
thrust  the ghastly thing away from us1 
and strive to distract our thoughts in  
folly4    ,illustration                 
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,iii4 
,,deals ,,with ,,life ,,and ,,the ,,lust
 ,,of ,,it1 ,,but ,,has ,,no ,,direct   
,,bearing ,,on ,,my  ,,story4#a         
,shall we not weary in the windless days
          ,hereafter1 for the murmur of 
the sea1          ,the cool salt air    
across some grassy lea8      ,shall we  
not go bewildered through a maze        
,of stately streets with glittering gems
 ablaze1        ,forlorn amid the pearl 
and ivory1        ,straining our eyes   
beyond the bourne to see    ,phantoms   
from out life's dear forsaken ways8     
,give us again the crazy clay-built     
nest1        ,summer1 and soft          
unseasonable spring1        ,our flowers
 to pluck1 our broken songs to sing1    

,our fairy gold of evening in the ,west2
        ,still to the land we love our  
longings cling1    ,the sweet vain world
 of turmoil and unrest4      --,graham  
,r4 ,tomson4      ,let me frankly       
confess that ,i love this world and the 
things of it1  and so1 ,i believe1 do   
all in whom the great1 glad1 aboriginal 
and  ,god-given love of life is whole   
and healthy1 and not stunted by         
sickness of mind or body4 ,for the      
bereaved and the sorrow-stricken  ,i    
make every allowance and would have all 
tenderness1 but ,i suspect  either the  
honesty or the health 7and by health ,i 
mean1 of course1  mental as well as     
physical soundness7 of those who express
 themselves  as being desirous of       
departing1 or who assert that love of   
this  world is irreconcilable with the  
love of ,god4    ,it is not ,god's      
world1 with its love and friendship and 
little  children1 its fields and        
flowers1 sea and sky1 sunlight and      
starshine1  and sweet consolations of   

,art and ,song1 against which we are    
bidden to  beware4 ,no it is man's      
world--the world which devotes itself to
 gain1  or to the wish to be somebody in
 society2 to the frittering away of our 
days in fashionable frivolity1 or in    
struggling to outdo our neighbour1  not 
in the purity of our lives1 or the      
dignity of our actions1 but in  our     
clothes1 our carriages1 and the company 
we keep--this world it is  which cannot 
be rightly loved by one in whom dwelleth
 the love of the  ,father4    ,but      
,god's world we can never love half     
enough1 can never sufficiently          
appreciate and enjoy4 ,suppose that you 
and ,i1 my reader1 had to make  a       
world--call it a heaven if you will--of 
our own designing1 and were  entrusted  
with infinite potentialities for the    
purpose4 ,could we1 could  all of us    
combined1 ever conceive of anything half
 so beautiful as this  world at which so
 many of us gaze with apathetic eyes8   
,an idle poet1 here and there1          

,looks round him1 but for all the rest1 
,the world1 unfathomably fair1      ,is 
duller than a witling's jest4    ,at    
best we could but copy1 but if it so    
happened that we1 to whom it  was given 
to create1 had never been permitted to  
set eyes even upon  this earth          
beforehand1 what sort of a world then1  
think you1 should we  contrive to       
construct8    ,i believe that if ,god   
were to make a man1 a full-grown man in 
a moment1  and were to set him down in  
the midst of the world1 to look upon it 
with new eyes1 and for the first time1  
instead of letting him grow up  from a  
child1 to become accustomed to it--for  
it is true1 as ,mr4  ,lowell says1 that 
we glance carelessly at the sunrise1 and
 get used to  ,orion and the            
,pleiades1--,i believe that that man    
would be in danger  of delirium from his
 overwhelming joy and wonder at the     
beauty and the  boundlessness of that   
which he saw around4    ,even this grim 
old ,london is full of beauty and of    

boundlessness2 of  beauty which strikes 
me breathless1 and of boundlessness of  
life1 and  sky2 for in what slum of it1 
be it never so stifling1 are we quite   
shut  out from view of the stars or the 
sunshine1 or of the human faces that    
come and go in the streets8 ,but a      
moment ago1 while looking out from  my  
window upon a crowded1 choking city     
thoroughfare1 ,i caught one  glimpse of 
a woman's profile1 as she passed with   
her head poised1 and  half-turned       
towards me2 and though the vision was   
gone in an instant1  the sweep of the   
queenly neck1 ivory-white and stately as
 a lily-stem1  set my senses vibrating  
with a thrill of exquisite pleasure4    
,and  yonder1 looking into a window1 ,i 
see another face1 the sweet pure face   
of a maiden4 ,i run my eye like a finger
 along the profile1 ,i follow  the      
flowing line of the hair2 but even as ,i
 look1 she turns1 is gone  and is       
forgotten1 for her place is taken by a  
girl with a basket of  flowers1 the     

flowers that ,i love as ,i love nothing 
else but poetry4  ,it is ,emerson1 ,i   
think1 who tells us that ,god's         
loveliest gifts are  the commonest2 and 
that sun and sky and flowers are scarce 
denied to  a beggar's call2 and it is   
pitiful1 as he says in another passage1 
the things by which we call ourselves   
rich or poor4 ,why1 ,i have gone  home  
from my morning's walk1 feeling richer  
in the possession of a  handful of      
honey-suckle than if ,i had found a     
purse of sovereigns by  the wayside2 nor
 could all the art-treasures of ,bond   
,street 7not that  ,i fail to appreciate
 them1 either7 give me a more exquisite 
thrill of  sweetly-saddened pleasure    
than does the tender perfume of a bunch 
of  violets4    ,as a child ,i used to  
fancy that ,i found in a flower all my  
whitest  and purest thoughts            
crystallized into a thing2 and now1     
though ,i am  a man1 the white-pure     
thoughts of my childhood still live for 
me in  every flower that blossoms in the

 meadows2 for the flowers bring me  back
 not only my vanished childhood1 but my 
childhood's innocence  and peace4 ,even 
in those remote child-days ,i was       
persuaded that the  flowers were not of 
earth1 but of heaven1 nor while ,i had  
them could  ,i believe heaven to be so  
very far off1 after all4 ,else how could
 the  flower-seeds have been blown over 
its edge1 and fallen down to the        
earth-land8 ,i would say to myself4 ,and
 ,i find myself fancying now1 as  ,i    
fancied then1 that ,god takes the       
flowers home to ,his heaven in the      
winter1 and every spring when ,i welcome
 them back1 ,i feel that they  have come
 as direct from ,him and from heaven as 
if ,he had leant down  out of the skies 
to give them to me2 and ,i feel that    
they are not my  flowers1 but ,his      
flowers2 for even as ,i gather them to  
call them mine1  ,he puts forth ,his    
hand and claims them1 so that they fade 
away again to  the heaven whence they   
came4    ,yes1 ,i love this world1 and  

the things of it4 ,to me the mere       
consciousness of life is a gladness1 the
 pulsing of my heart a  pleasure4 ,i    
pencil the latter part of this chapter  
while lying lazily  in a sun-filled     
meadow1 and as ,i write ,i seem to feel 
the very drawing  of my breath a joy4   
,the sky spreads above me1 a shimmering 
sea of  blue--not the cool1 crystalline 
sapphire of early morning1 but the deep 
dense azure of a midsummer noon4 ,how   
hot the bees must feel in that  furry   
coat6 ,as ,i lie here1 basking in the   
sunlight1 and watching the  buttercups  
dancing and dipping above the grass1    
like golden banners  amid an army of    
green-bladed bayonets1 ,i do not wonder 
that the poor  bees keep up a dull      
droning hum of monotonous murmuring4 ,i 
can see the  hot air simmering and      
quivering above the clover fields1 but  
all else  is drowsily1 dreamily still4  
,i know that the streets of the far-off 
city are reeking and smoking with dry   
and dusty heat1 but here ,i am in       

another world1 and the bees and the     
birds are my brothers4 ,this meadow  is 
my boundless prairie2 my head is below  
the level of the grass tops1  and they  
spread feathery1 filmy arms above1 like 
the boughs of a vast  forest4    ,yes1  
lying here in this sun-filled meadow on 
this summer morning1 ,i am  conscious   
that ,i love my life1 and that ,i should
 be loath to leave it4  ,i love to feel 
the wind upon my cheek1 and to hear it  
as it whistles  by me1 singing in my    
ears1 as in the hollow convolutions of a
 shell4  ,i love to stand and look out  
upon the sea1 or upon open plains and   
broad sky-spaces1 which give us eyesight
 room and room for our souls  to be4 ,i 
love to lie and listen to the song of   
the wind among the  pine-trees1--the    
sailing pine trees1--and to watch them  
swing and  sway like storm-tossed barks 
at sea4 ,i love to see the rook beat up 
against the wind1 and poise and hover   
and soar1 and slide down upon the  edge 
of the blast with rigid blade-like wings

 that shear the air like a  knife4 ,and 
when ,i watch him cut the ether in      
circles as full and fair  as the curves 
of a woman's bosom1 ,i think of him less
 as a bird than as  some winged artist  
of the heights1 who delights in flowing 
line1 and  grace of form and feature2   
and ,i too feel buoyant and airy1 and to
 my  very limbs is lent the lightness of
 his flight4    ,i love1 too1 the       
companionship of those who love the     
things that  ,i love--my spiritual      
brethren and fellow-worshippers2 for1 to
 my  thinking1 the lovers of ,art1      
,music1 ,nature1 ,poetry1 or of         
,religion1  are all of them in one      
attitude of mind1 and are animated by   
one  and the same spirit--,i call it the
 ,worshipping ,spirit4 ,it may body     
itself forth in the homage-love of the  
musician for harmony1 in the            
artist-worship of sensuous beauty1 or1  
highest of all1 in the adoration  of    
,christ and of that which is spiritually
 perfect2 and yet all these  loves are  

not many loves1 but one love1 for they  
are but different  expressions of one   
and the same spirit4 ,hence to turn from
 a chapter  of ,st4 ,john to a sunset1 a
 sonnet from ,wordsworth1 or a picture  
by  ,botticelli1 is to me not unseemly1 
but natural1 for each of these  arouses1
 in different degrees1 one and the same 
emotion1 and that  emotion has its      
source in one and the same ,worshipping 
,spirit4    ,i love also travel1 change 
and adventure4 ,i love the ,botticellis1
 the  ,fra ,angelicos and the ,leonardo 
of our own princely ,national ,gallery1 
not the less1 but the better for an     
occasional ramble in the ,louvre1 or    
among the galleries of ,holland or      
,italy4 ,i love the life1 the stir and  
bustle of our ,london streets2 but ,i   
love1 too1 the old-world rest and       
repose of ,bruges or of ,berne2 and many
 a time have ,i lingered the long  day  
through in the antique streets of       
,antwerp1 listening to the sweet  uproar
 and silvern wrangling that ripples1    

cloud-borne and wind-wafted1  from where
 the stately belfry soars lark-like     
above the world4 ,to  me to have been   
happy once is to establish a claim upon 
happiness  thenceforward1 and it is for 
this reason1 ,i suppose1 that ,i love so
  to re-live the past1 and to dwell on  
the memory of former sights and  scenes4
 ,it is true1 as ,frederick ,robertson  
says1 that the first time  never        
returns1 and shall ,i ever forget the   
exultation of the moment  when1 after   
repeated failures1 ,i first set foot on 
that inaccessible  mountain-height which
 ,i had risked my life to scale8 ,even  
now1 lying  here in this sunny ,english 
meadow1 ,i seem to re-live that moment1 
and  to see that scene again4 ,before me
 rises one wild and wasteful world of   
white--a white on which the fierce rays 
of the sun beat and burn with  blinding1
 blazing1 intolerable brilliance4       
,above1 swimming and soaring  away into 
unfathomable azure1 spreads the silent  
heaven1 but around1  about1 beneath1 all

 is white1 deathly-white1 save only     
where the vast  angles of ice-crag or   
column deepen into a lustrous turquoise1
 or where  a blue mist broods athwart   
the mouth of yawning crevasse or cavern4
  ,below me and afar--so far that it    
seems as if ,i were cut off from it  for
 ever1--lies the sunny village that ,i  
left so many toilsome hours  ago1 just  
visible1 a wee white dot upon the green4
 ,there the air is  sweet with the      
breath of flowers and of the            
clover-fields1 there1 too1  are the     
bees1 and the butterflies1 and the music
 of rushing water4  ,but here1 where the
 wasteful snows writhe and wreathe      
around in arch  and cave and column1    
vast and wonderful to behold--above1 the
 shining  zenith1 below1 the sheer abyss
 and the treacherous descent--here in   
the  solemn solitude and silence of this
 whited wilderness1 ,i can scarcely     
believe that ,i am still on the earth1  
and of it1 and that the dazzling  dome  
on which ,i am standing is but the white

 and swelling bosom of the  ,great      
,mother from whom we all sprang4    ,or1
 weary of the silence and the           
snow-solitudes1 ,i close my eyes1  and  
lo6 ,i am down in the valley again1 and 
all around me spreads a  blithe and     
beauteous scene of serenest summer4 ,on 
every breeze that  sings from sunny     
slope or smiling pasture is borne the   
windy chime and  clamour of countless   
cattle-bells from the hillside1 but     
beyond that1  and the unbroken buzz and 
burr1 which bespeak the deep content of 
innumerable bees1 all is still1 drowsily
 still4 ,here1 if anywhere1 one  can    
realize for a moment the deep1 dreamy   
peacefulness that pervades  the opening 
lines of ,mr4 ,swinburne's majestic     
,garden of ,proserpine1--      ,here1   
where the world is quiet1      ,here1   
where all trouble seems    ,dead winds' 
and spent waves' riot      ,in doubtful 
dream of dreams2    ,i watch the green  
field growing1    ,for reaping folk and 
sowing1    ,for harvest time and mowing1

      ,a sleepy world of streams4       
,here are the bees1 the birds1 and the  
butterflies2 here1 too1 nestling  cosily
 on hillside or meadow1 are dotted      
dozens of umber-brown chlets1  each of  
which seems to suggest that haunting    
sense of human history  of which ,george
 ,macdonald speaks1 when he says that   
many a simple home  will move one's     
heart like a poem1 many a cottage like a
 melody4    ,and now there is a change  
in the picture3 the drowsiness and  the 
dreaminess are gone1 and there is the   
free1 fresh sense of  motion1 and of the
 open4 ,in my ears is the journeying    
music of the  diligence--music which    
despite its jingle never becomes        
monotonous1  for every now and then the 
horses toss their heads to shake off the
 too  persistent flies1 and sprinkle the
 air with spray of silvery sounds4  ,the
 road winds along a mountain path       
overlooking a lake1 and the  mirroring  
of sunset fire upon the surface of the  
water1 the cool clear  crystal of the   

blue depths that swim away below1 the   
purple distance  of the farther hills1  
fast-shrouding in light-drawn mist1 and 
lastly1  the solemn splendour of that   
sky-hung1 soaring summit1 brooding like 
a presence athwart the skies1--all these
 make up a scene upon which ,i  am never
 weary of dwelling1 and which ,i dearly 
love to recall2 a scene  of such        
indescribable loveliness as to leave me 
at last bowed and  breathless1 and      
,sad with the whole of pleasure4    ,i  
thought when ,i penned the last         
paragraph that ,i had made an end  of   
telling you of my love of life and of   
the things of it1 but that  half-line   
which ,i have quoted from ,rossetti's   
most beautiful sonnet  sets me thinking 
of another love of which ,i have not yet
 spoken4 ,need ,i  say that ,i mean the 
love of music8 not only of the music    
which is like  soft hands stealing into 
ours in the dark1 and holding us fast   
without  a spoken word1 but also of     
those sobbing soaring strains1 which    

sound  as sadly in our ears as does the 
wintry flittering of dead leaves upon  a
 withered bough8 ,to those who feel that
 every ray of morning sunlight  which   
strikes across their path calls them to 
a higher and holier  living2 to whose   
hearts the pure petals of a primrose are
 as a silent  reproach against their own
 impurity2 to whom a glint of blue sky1 
gleaming out between rain-beaten        
tree-tops is as an aspiration towards  a
 loftier1 lovelier life2 to whom the    
very wind1 as it sings from the  gates  
of morning1 cries out ,unclean6         
unclean6--to such1 ,i suppose1  music   
must ever contain less of joy than of   
sadness1 if1 indeed1 it  appeal not with
 a pleasure which cuts to the heart like
 a pain4 ,it is  to them as if an angel 
from heaven had cast1 for one passing   
second1  upon a cloud-screen drawn      
across the soul1 a vision of what they  
might be1 of what they were meant to be1
 and of what in ,god's good  time they  
may yet become2 and as if at the very   

moment when the spirit  was pouring     
itself forth in one unutterable cry of  
longing after the  ,divine beauty of    
that ideal1 there rose before them the  
shadow-horror  of what they really are4 
,,footnotes3    ,footnote #a3 ,then why 
print it here8 asks the reader4 ,for the
 reason1  ,i reply1 that this ,diary is 
the history1 not only of a sin1 but of a
  soul2 and that to leave the aspect of 
my subject here treated unnoticed  would
 be to give but a maimed and one-sided  
representation4 ,i do not  think any    
reader who studies my sketch-outline as 
a whole will consider  the introduction 
of this chapter as inartistic4          
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,,iv4    ,i ,,die4      ,i    
pass on now to tell of my death moments4
 ,the room in which ,i died was  the    
room in which ,i had been born4 ,one    
half of it was my bedroom1 and  the     
other half--that near the window--was my
 study4 ,there ,i had done  all my work1
 and there were my books and papers4    

,there1 too1 grouped  around the walls1 
were portraits of the men and women who 
seem to me  sometimes to be more myself1
 as ,emerson puts it1 than even ,i am1  
and  who are nearer to me and dearer to 
me1 many of them1 than are some of      
those who sit daily with me in the      
household--,i mean the portraits of  my 
favourite writers4    ,i do not know    
whether the literary associations of the
 room had any  part--probably they      
had--in determining the current of my   
thought1 but  ,i remember that1 during  
the first few hours of the morning      
preceding my  death1 ,i found my mind   
running on poets and poetry4 ,i         
recollect that ,i  was thinking chiefly 
of ,rossetti1 and of the fact that he   
was haunted1  as he lay a-dying1 by     
passages from his own poems4 ,not that  
,i saw or  see any cause in that fact   
for wonder1 for ,i can recall lines of  
his  which ,i can believe would haunt   
one even in heaven4    ,those of my     
readers who fail to appreciate in its   

fulness the saying  of ,diana of the    
,crossways that in poetry those that    
have souls  meet their fellows1 or that 
of the ,saturday ,review1 that there  is
 an incommunicable magic in poetry which
 is foolishness to the  multitude1--may 
think this an exaggeration4 ,ah well1   
they are of the  multitude1--the more   
pity for them6--and can never understand
 how  the soul is stirred by a simple   
sentence in the god-like language of    
,shakespeare1 or is as irresistibly     
swayed as are trees in a whirlwind  by a
 single stanza from ,swinburne2 how the 
magic witchery of a couplet  by ,keats  
can bring tears to the eyes2 or how the 
tender grace of a line  from ,herrick   
can set the senses vibrating with an    
exquisite thrill of  joy4 ,nay1 ,i could
 indicate sentences in the              
diamond-pointed prose of  ,george       
,meredith1 pellucid sentences1          
crystal-clear and luminous as the       
scintillations of ,sirius 7and for all  
their judicial poise and calmness       

emitted like the ,sirius scintillations 
at a white heat71--which affect  me in a
 similar way4 ,there are few other      
writers of whom ,i could  affirm this   
with the like confidence2 but           
,meredith's thoughts have  crystallized 
into a brain-stimulating prose--every   
sentence of which is  a satisfying      
mouthful to our intellectual            
hunger--which is sometimes  pure poetry4
    ,poetry is to my diary1 however1 and
 in fact to all ,i think or say1  what  
,king ,charles's head was to ,mr4       
,dick's memorial1 and it is time ,i     
returned to my narrative4    ,the       
possibility of a fatal ending to my     
illness had never occurred to  myself or
 to my family1 until that ending was    
nigh at hand1 and so it  was that death 
came upon me in every way unawares4 ,i  
remember my father  bending over me1 and
 asking gently if ,i knew that ,i was   
dying1 and ,i  recollect looking up to  
whisper back1 ,no3 is it so8 and        
receiving  his sorrowful response4 ,it  

was too late then for me to do more than
  recognise the fact as a fact1 for my  
brain was so strangely affected  that ,i
 was utterly incapable of following out 
that fact to its result4  ,i knew that  
,i was dying--knew it much as ,i might  
have known it of some  other person--but
 felt no individual pang of terror or   
surprise4 ,this  state of indifferent   
acquiescence in that which was about to 
occur  was followed by a sense of regret
 at having to leave a volume which ,i   
had in hand unfinished1 and then1 with  
the ruling passion strong in  death1 ,i 
found myself endeavouring to find       
fitting words to describe  my           
sensations4 ,it is so with me ever and  
always4 ,art and ,poetry have  become   
such realities1 that ,i cannot take them
 up and lay them aside  at pleasure1 but
 must needs bear them with me           
whithersoever ,i go4 ,i  carry my poetry
 with me to bed and to breakfast2 and ,i
 can sit and  write1 or carry on a      
conversation1 with the consciousness of 

,mr4 ,lang's  latest ,ballade1 or ,mr4  
,theodore ,watts's last sonnet1 running 
like an  undercurrent in my mind4 ,i am 
perpetually striving to fix in language 
the fleeting colours of sea and sky4 ,i 
can never listen to the trickle  and    
purl of a brooklet tinkling over its    
pebbly bed1 without making  diligent    
search in my vocabulary for a word--the 
golden word--which  seems most to babble
 and to blab of water4 ,as surely as ,i 
find in  ,wordsworth's poems a          
background of sky and mountain1 just as 
surely do  ,i find in mountain and sky  
an echo of ,wordsworth's song4 ,to me1  
too1  the sonnet which rises            
involuntarily to my lips1 as ,i gaze out
 upon  the deep1 is as much a part of   
the scene before me1 as is the sun or   
the sand upon the shore2 and ,i have    
come to feel with ,mr4 ,lowell1 as  if a
 sunset were like a quotation from      
,dante or ,milton1 and that if          
,shakespeare be read in the very        
presence of the sea itself1 his voice   

shall but seem nobler for the sublime   
criticism of ocean4    ,i was telling   
you that as ,i lay a-dying1 ,i found    
myself endeavouring  to find fitting    
words to describe my sensations4 ,at    
this point1  however1 the train of my   
thoughts was disturbed--and ,i recollect
  a slight reawakening of my old        
characteristic irritability at the      
interruption--by the entrance of a      
sister who had come from a distance  to 
see me4 ,i remember slightly lifting my 
head to speak to her1 and  then glancing
 round the room to see if all were      
present4 ,yes1 close  beside me1 and    
with his head bowed over his hands1 sat 
my father1 and  round about the bed were
 gathered the remainder of the family4  
,nor were  these all1 for standing among
 them were three other figures--that of 
my  brother ,fred1 whose grave as yet   
was hardly green1 and of my mother and  
my little sister ,comfort1 both of whom 
had died when ,i was a child4 ,if  my   
conviction that ,i have indeed been dead

 be a delusion1--as ,i doubt  not many  
of my readers will think1--is it not    
strange1 ,i would ask1  that these faces
 should have been with me at the end8   
,had there been  any conjecture in my   
mind as to the probability of my meeting
 with my  lost ones1 ,i could readily   
believe that what ,i saw was the        
creation  of my own brain4 ,but there   
had been no such conjecture1 for death  
had taken me1 as ,i have already        
explained1 entirely unawares1 and no    
thought of the dead had as much as      
occurred to me4 ,their presence1        
however1 so far from causing me any     
surprise1 seemed perfectly natural1  for
 the fact that they were dead did not   
dawn upon my consciousness4    ,this1 ,i
 am ready to allow1 strongly supports   
the theory that these  experiences may  
be nothing more than dreams1 for in     
dreams it not  seldom happens that we   
re-live the past1 and hold converse with
 our  departed ones1 all oblivious of   
the death which has come between us4    

,it may be so1 ,i admit1 but in my heart
 of hearts ,i cannot think it2  for if  
all that ,i have to tell be but a dream1
 then does it seem to me  the strangest 
dream ever dreamed by man4 ,moreover1   
with these three  figures was a         
fourth--a figure which at first had     
escaped my notice2  and it is the       
presence of this figure in the room     
which is to me most  unaccountable4 ,my 
mother1 when ,i first saw her1 was      
standing at the  foot of the bed1 with  
my dead brother and sister looking over 
her  shoulder1 but at the sight of my   
father's grief1 she went gently round   
to where he was sitting1 and with a     
caress of infinite pity stooped  down as
 if to whisper in his ear4 ,it was then 
that ,i saw for the first  time that she
 held by the hand a little child--a     
little child whom ,i  had never seen    
before1 but across whose face1 as he    
looked up at me1  there flitted the     
phantom of a resemblance ,i could not   
catch4    ,i remember that even then1   

brain-benumbed and dying as ,i was1 ,i  
wondered who that little child could be2
 but there dawned upon me no  shadowy   
suspicion of the truth1 and ,i passed   
away with that wonder  unremoved4    ,i 
think now--nay1 ,i am sure--that ,i know
 who that child was4 ,it was my  brother
 ,james ,john1 the eldest of the family1
 who had died before ,i was  born1 and  
whom1 in this world1 therefore1 ,i had  
never seen4    ,i have little left to   
tell of my death1 for nothing else      
occurred of  any moment1 and ,i am      
resolved to confine myself strictly to  
facts4 ,i  remember that immediately    
after ,i had seen my mother1 and while  
,i was  wondering who the child she held
 by the hand could be1 there came over  
me a strange and sudden sense of        
loss--of physical loss1 ,i think it     
was1 as though some life-element had    
gone out from me4 ,of pain there  was   
none1 nor was ,i disturbed by any mental
 anxiety4 ,i recollect only  an ethereal
 lightness of limb1 and a sense of      

soul-emancipation and  peace--a sense of
 soul-emancipation such as one might    
feel were he to  awaken on a sunny      
morning to find that all sorrow and sin 
were gone  from the world for ever2 a   
peace ample and restful as the hallowed 
hush and awe of summer twilight1 without
 the twilight's tender pain4    ,then ,i
 seemed to be sinking slowly and        
steadily through still depths  of       
sun-steeped1 light-filled waters that   
sang in my ears with a sound  like a    
sweet-sad sobbing and soaring of music1 
and through which there  swam up to me1 
in watered vistas of light1 scenes of   
sunny seas and  shining shores where    
smiling isles stretched league beyond   
league afar4  ,and so life ebbed and    
ebbed away1 until at last there came a  
time--the  moment of death1 ,i          
believe--when the outward and deathward 
setting tide  seemed to reach its       
climax1 and when ,i felt myself swept   
shoreward and  lifeward again on the    
inward-setting tide of that larger life 

into  which ,i had died4                
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,v4    ,,is ,,of ,,an         
,,explanatory ,,nature ,,only4          
,when the first rough draft of this     
diary was lying on my study table1      
there called to see me1 at a time when  
,i chanced to be out1 a certain         
novelist who is an old and intimate     
friend of mine4 ,he was shown into  the 
study to await my coming1 and1 on my    
return1 ,i found him amusing  himself   
with these papers4 ,of the reality of my
 death-experiences  7which he           
persistently refused to regard as other 
than dreams7 ,i had  never been able to 
convince him1 and ,i was not surprised  
therefore  when1 after the conversation 
turned upon the work each of us had in  
hand1 he referred to my booklet in his  
usual sceptical tone4    ,my dear       
fellow1 he said1 laying one hand upon   
the offending  manuscript1 ,i haven't   
the slightest intention of disputing the
 truth  of your statements1 or of       

denying that your diary has a certain   
unwholesome interest of its own1 but    
seriously1 ,i don't think fiction  is   
altogether in your line4    ,nor satire 
in yours1 ,i replied2 but what have you 
to say against the  thing now8    ,this1
 he answered1 more evidently in earnest1
 that you haven't  scored as you might  
have done1 but have let slip what       
opportunities you  had for turning out  
something original4 ',letters from      
,hell' 7which1 by  the bye1 you must    
expect to be charged with imitating1    
though that  needn't trouble you much7  
was confessedly a work of pure          
imagination1  and ,i shouldn't be       
surprised if the fact helped somewhat to
 lessen  the interest of the volume4    
,now your book has just enough shadow of
  probability or possibility to sustain 
the delusion1 and all that  will tell in
 its favour4 ,the public likes--just as 
,dick ,swiveller's  ,marchioness did--to
 'make believe' in the reality of that  
which is  meant to interest it2 and     

books or plays can't be too life-like or
  realistic nowadays4 ,you have 'made   
believe' until you have brought         
yourself to believe in the reality of   
something which ,i can't think  ever    
happened2 but that isn't my business4   
,what ,i complain of is  this3--that    
although you have a story to tell with  
sufficient shadow  of probability or    
possibility1 as ,i have said1 to make it
 interesting1  and to keep up the       
delusion1 you have failed most          
lamentably to turn  your opportunities  
to account4 ,take your death scene1 for 
instance4 ,any  practical writer of     
ordinary ability could imagine the      
sensations  of dying1 and could draw a  
far more powerful picture of them than  
you  have done1 who profess to have     
actually experienced those sensations   
personally4 ,then what you have to say  
about ,heaven and ,hell1 and all  the   
rest of it1 is curious1 and some may    
think it not uninteresting1  but you    
haven't given us any idea of what the   

places are like1 after  all4 ,why didn't
 you draw on your imagination1 man8 ,why
 didn't you go  in for the grim1 and    
grey1 and ghastly8 ,why didn't you revel
 in the  weird 7never mind ,mr4 ,lang's 
abuse of the word71 or conjure up       
blissful  dreams of the blest and of    
,paradise8 ,i know a dozen men who could
 have  made twice as much capital1 and  
far more saleable copy1 out of that     
idea of yours about a man dying1 or     
nearly so1 and then coming back to      
relate what he has seen1 as it appears  
from the standpoint of frail  mortality2
 and ,i tell you frankly that ,i don't  
think you have scored as  you ought to  
have done4    ,but what has all this1   
says the reader1 to do with your diary8 
,we  are willing to hear what you have  
to tell about your experiences1  but we 
didn't bargain for an article setting   
forth the opinion of  your friends on   
the subject1 and we can't help thinking 
that the  introduction of this chapter  
is somewhat uncalled for4    ,well1     

perhaps it is so1 but it is because the 
conversation given  above touches upon  
some points concerning which ,i am      
anxious that the  reader should come to 
a right understanding before he enters  
upon my  after-death experience1 that ,i
 have inserted it here1 and if a very   
few minutes' indulgence be granted me1  
,i will say what ,i have to say  as     
briefly as possible4 ,i could1 ,i am    
sure1 by drawing a little on  my        
imagination1 have written a far more    
striking description of the  sensations 
of death1 than that which ,i have given 
in the preceding  chapter1 for of such  
description1 in the sense of working-up 
a  situation there is absolutely none4  
,all that ,i have tried to do is  to    
relate my story with a resolute         
avoidance of anything akin to the       
sensational4 ,if aught of the           
sensational there be in the narrative1  
it  is because the thing is sensational 
in itself1 and not because ,i have      
attempted to make it so4 ,as ,george    

,eliot says1 it is far easier to draw  a
 griffin1 with wings and claws filled in
 according to our own fancy1  than to   
correctly limn the outlines of a lion2  
and to keep to the  truth has been the  
hardest part of my task4    ,when the   
mental picture or impression left on my 
mind is but an  imperfect one1 ,i have  
not attempted1 as ,i might easily and   
perhaps  pardonably have done1 to fill  
in the missing outline from my          
imagination1 but have given the picture 
or impression for what it  is worth1 and
 have left it so4 ,my memory is1        
generally speaking1  excellent1 and     
during the first few hours of           
consciousness after the  return of      
vitality1 the recollection of that which
 ,i had seen was  as fresh as are the   
events of yesterday4 ,within a week1    
however1 ,i  found that the greater part
 of it had gone from me1 and that all my
  efforts to recall the mental pictures 
were unavailing4 ,i have sometimes      
wondered if it can be possible that when

 my presence was missed  from the realms
 into which ,i had so untimely wandered1
 some angelic  messenger was despatched 
with instructions to wipe out from the  
tablets  of my memory the records of my 
experiences4 ,whether it be so1 or not1 
,i cannot say1 but this ,i do know1 that
 had ,i commenced my diary within  a    
week of my return to life1 the booklet  
would have been one such as  it is not  
often given to man to write4 ,the       
subject1 however1 seemed  then1 and for 
a long time after1 too solemn to be     
turned to account  for copy1 and each of
 the several years which have elapsed   
since ,i  died1 has taken with it some  
part of the recollections that remained 
to me2 and now that ,i have all too     
tardily set about my task1 ,i have  but 
blurred and broken reminiscences to     
offer in place of a life-like  picture4 
,these reminiscences1 vague1            
disconnected1 and fragmentary as they   
are1 ,i have given for what they are    
worth4 ,if any reader think that ,i     

have overrated the value of my          
experiences1 and that ,i have failed to 
verify the promise with which ,i        
started1 ,i can only assure him that    
the failure is due1 not to the          
insufficiency of what is strange and    
striking in my experiences1 but to my   
inability to recall what ,i have  seen1 
and to my incompetency to do fitting    
justice to my singular  subject4        
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,,vi4    ,,tells ,,of ,,my    
,,first ,,awful ,,awakening ,,in ,,hell1
 ,,and ,,of ,,the ,,shameful ,,sin      
,,which ,,brought ,,me ,,thither4       
,the expense of spirit in a waste of    
shame      ,is lust in action2 and till 
action1 lust    ,is perjured1 murderous1
 bloody1 full of blame1      ,savage1   
extreme1 rude1 cruel1 not to trust1     
,enjoyed no sooner but despisd straight1
      ,past reason hunted1 and no sooner
 had    ,past reason hated1 as a        
swallowed bait1      ,on purpose laid to
 make the taker mad2    ,mad in pursuit1

 and in possession so2      ,had1       
having1 and in quest to have1 extreme2  
,a bliss in proof1 and1 proved1 a very  
woe2      ,before1 a joy proposed2      
behind1 a dream4    ,all this the world 
well knows2 yet none knows well    ,to  
shun the heaven that leads men to this  
hell4      ,shakespeare's #abith        
,sonnet4      ,time1 which is the name  
we give to our petty portion of         
,eternity1 has  no existence in that    
,eternity which has been defined as the 
lifetime  of the ,almighty2 and so it   
was that though ,i remained in the      
spirit  realm but two days1 it seemed to
 me as if weeks1 months1 years1 had     
elapsed between my death and the hour   
when ,i first became conscious of  that 
death4    ,i have told you that as ,i   
lay a-dying1 ,i felt my life slowly  but
 steadily ebbing away1 until at last    
there came a time--the  moment of death1
 ,i believe it to have been--when the   
outward and  deathward-setting tide     
seemed to reach its climax1 and when ,i 

felt  myself swept shoreward and        
lifeward again4 ,i know there are some  
who  will say that the turning-point    
which ,i have called the moment of death
  was nothing more or less than the     
moment which marked the decline of  the 
disease1 and the return of vitality1 but
 this theory1 plausible and  even       
probable as it seems1 leaves the        
strangest part of my experience         
unexplained1 and ,i cannot entertain it2
 neither1 ,i think1 will the  reader1   
when he has heard me out4    ,whether my
 death was succeeded by a season of     
slumber1 in which certain  divinely     
ordered dreams were caused to be dreamed
 by me1 or whether  ,god caused the     
hands on the dial of ,time to be put    
back for a space in  order that ,i might
 see the past as ,he sees it1 ,i neither
 knew nor know2  but ,i distinctly      
remember that the first thing of which  
,i was conscious  after my dissolution  
was that the events of my past life were
 rising  before me4 ,yes1 it was my past

 life1 which ,i saw in that awful       
moment1  my past life standing out in   
its own naked and intolerable horror1 an
  abomination in the sight of ,god1 and 
of my own conscience4    ,the hands on  
the dial of ,time went back half a      
score1 a score1 and  finally a score and
 a half of years1 and once more ,i was a
 young man of  twenty-one4 ,the chambers
 in which ,i was then living were       
situated in  one of the well-known ,inns
 off ,holborn1 and the housekeeper of   
the wing  where ,i was quartered was a  
widow1 who1 with her daughter ,dorothy1 
a  girl of seventeen1 resided on the    
premises4    ,as it was ,dorothy's part 
to wait upon the occupants of the       
chambers1  she had occasion to come to  
my room several times in the day1 and ,i
  could not help noticing her           
loveliness1 which1 indeed1 reminded me  
not  a little of my favourite ,greuze   
picture4 ,when ,i first knew her she    
seemed maidenly and modest1 but was vain
 beyond a question1 and her  manner to  

the opposite sex was shy and            
self-conscious1 with occasional  dashes 
of an artless and even childish coquetry
 which was most  bewitching4 ,by this   
girl ,i was irresistibly and fatally    
fascinated4 ,i  was young1 susceptible1 
and singularly impressionable to female 
beauty1  whilst the loneliness and the  
monotony of the life ,i was leading were
  in themselves elements of considerable
 danger2 and to make matters  worse1 it 
was only too evident that ,dorothy was  
not indifferent to  my admiration4 ,as  
,i knew that it was but the fascination 
of form and  feature which attracted me1
 and that nothing but mischief was      
likely  to come of such a passion1 ,i   
strove my hardest to steel myself       
against  her2 but ,fate seemed adverse1 
for one summer evening while ,i was     
sitting in my study1 waiting for a      
friend1 there burst over ,london the    
most fearful thunderstorm which ,i have 
ever witnessed4 ,the lightning  was so  
vivid and the thunder so terrific1 that 

even ,i1 who am by no  means nervous    
about such things1 felt strangely moved 
and unsettled2  and ,i was not a little 
glad1 therefore1 to hear what ,i took to
 be my  friend's knock4 ,when ,i went to
 the door1 however1 ,i found that it was
  not he1 but ,dorothy1 and that she was
 white with fear1 and trembling  from   
head to foot4 ,oh1 sir1 she sobbed1     
mother's out1 and there's no  one else  
in but you1 and ,i'm so frightened that 
,i can't stay by myself4  ,if you'll    
only let me be here till she comes back1
 ,i'll be very quiet  and not disturb   
you in any way4    ,knowing my weakness 
and her great beauty1 ,i had up to that 
moment  studiously refrained from       
allowing so much as a wandering glance  
to  rest on her2 but ,i could not avoid 
looking at her now1 and ,i remember     
that her eyes1 bright and pitiful and   
beseeching1 her bosom's gentle          
neighbourhood1 and the very             
consciousness of her presence as she    
stood  before me1 set my heart beating  

so wildly1 that it was all ,i could do  
to refrain from taking her in my arms   
then and there1 and telling her         
7forgive the profanation of a holy word7
 that ,i loved her4    ,the virtuous    
determination to be on our guard against
 some besetting  sin or constitutional  
failing comes to us generally1 not      
during  the moment of temptation1 when  
we are most in need of such a moral     
reminder1 but after the event1 and when 
the determination is too  late2 but on  
this occasion ,i heard the inward       
monitor speak out a  timely warning1 and
 that with no uncertain tongue4 ,by a   
great effort  ,i nerved myself to my    
accustomed control1 and though ,i knew  
,dorothy  would think me churlish and   
cruel1 ,i told her coldly that she had  
better go downstairs and wait the return
 of her mother4 ,the words had  scarcely
 time to pass my lips 7,i doubt1 indeed1
 if she could have heard  them71 before 
they were lost in a terrific            
thunder-peal1 following  almost         

instantaneously upon a blinding flash of
 lightning4 ,it had been  better for    
both of us1 as ,i have often since      
thought1 if that flash  had struck us   
dead as we stood there2 for1 with one   
cry of passion and  fear1 and calling me
 by my name--my ,christian name--in a   
tone that none  could misinterpret1     
,dorothy flung her arms around me1 and  
the next  moment ,i found myself        
pressing her to my heart with a fierce  
and almost  savage exultation1 and      
telling her1 amid a score of burning    
kisses1  that ,i loved her4    ,almost  
immediately afterwards we heard the     
opening of doors1 which  indicated her  
mother's home-coming1 but not before    
,dorothy had time to  tell me in return 
that she too loved me1 and had always   
done so4 ,and  then she slipped from my 
arms1 and tripped away with tumbled hair
 and  flaming cheeks to join her mother1
 turning as she reached the door to     
look back with a shy smile and to       
say--innocently and unsuspectingly      

enough as ,i knew well--that the room   
directly over mine was her own1  and    
that she often lay awake at night       
listening to my restless pacing  to and 
fro1 and wondering what could keep me up
 so late4    ,of the hellish thought    
which rose in my heart as ,i            
listened--the  thought that she would   
not refuse me admittance to her room    
should ,i  seek her there that          
night--she could have had no suspicion1 
for it was  a thought of which1 at any  
other time1 ,i should have deemed myself
  incapable4 ,i remember that ,i did not
 fling the hateful suggestion from  me1 
as ,i should have done an hour earlier1 
although1 passion-maddened  as ,i was1  
,i recoiled from it1 and vowed that ,i  
would never entertain  it4 ,but ,i      
brooded over the horrible idea1 and     
sketched out how easily  it might be    
acted upon1 were ,i the foul thing to do
 it1 which ,i still  declared to myself 
,i was not4 ,had ,i arisen in trembling 
horror1 and  thrust the vile conception 

from me1 she and ,i might even then have
 been  saved1 but ,i let it enter and   
take up its abode in my heart1 and from 
thenceforward ,i strove to drive it     
forth in vain4    ,oh6 in ,god's name1  
in the name of ,love and ,truth and     
,purity1 when  any such evil or impure  
thought so much as casts the shadow of  
its  approaching presence on your soul1 
then1 in all the strength of your       
manhood1 arise and thrust it out1 ere it
 be too late6 ,argue not1 delay  not1   
listen not1 but hurl the loathsome      
whisper from you as though it  were some
 poisonous reptile1 and bid it be gone  
for ever6    ,from the moment that ,i   
gave audience to that messenger of      
,satan1 hell  and its furies laid hold  
on me4 ,sometimes ,i seemed to be       
gaining  ground1 sometimes ,i seemed to 
be recovering my balance of mind4 ,i    
will do the right6 ,i cried1 ,i will not
 be guilty of this accursed  thing6 but 
even as ,i strove to fix my feeble      
purpose to the sticking  point1 some    

moral screw seemed to give way within   
me1 and ,i felt that  purpose ebbing    
away like life-blood from a fatal wound4
    ,at last the struggle seemed to     
cease1 and there was borne in upon me a 
sense of peace1 deep1 and sweet1 and    
restful4 ,i know now that it was  but   
exhaustion consequent upon the strain ,i
 had endured1 that it was  nothing more 
than the inevitable reaction from the   
high soul-tension to  which ,i had been 
subjected4 ,to me1 however1 it seemed as
 the very peace  of ,god and as a sign  
from heaven1 and lulled into a false    
security1 ,i  let my thoughts wander    
back to dwell again upon the temptation4
 ,need  ,i tell the remainder of my     
story8 ,need ,i say that my passion had 
but  simulated defeat1 as passion often 
does1 in order that it might turn in  an
 unguarded moment1 and rend me with     
redoubled fury8 ,the next moment ,i  saw
 my last gasping effort to will the     
right sink amid the tempestuous  sea of 
sinful wishes1 as a drowning man sinks  

after he has risen for  the third time2 
and deliberately thrusting away1 in the 
very doggedness  of despair1 the        
invisible hand which yet strove to stay 
me1 ,i arose and  sought the room that  
,i had prayed ,i might never enter4     
99       99       99       99       99  
,you may wonder1 perhaps1 how it is that
 ,i am able to recall so vividly  the   
circumstances of an event which happened
 many years ago4 ,you would  cease so to
 wonder1 had you seen1 as ,i have seen1 
the ghost of your  dead self rise up to 
cry for vengeance against you1 and to   
condemn  you before the judgment seat of
 ,god1 and of your own conscience4 ,for 
this was my first glimpse of ,hell2 this
 was my ,day of ,judgment4 ,the         
recording angel of my own indestructible
 and now ,god-awakened memory  showed me
 my past life as ,god saw it1 and as it 
appeared when robbed of  the loathsome  
disguises with which ,i had so long     
contrived to hide my  own moral         
nakedness4 ,sin looks much more terrible

 to those who look  at it1 than to those
 who do it1 says the author of the      
,story of an  ,african ,farm4 ,a        
convict1 or a man who drinks1 seems     
something so far  off and horrible when 
we see him1 but to himself he seems     
quite near  to us1 and like us4 ,we     
wonder what kind of a creature he is1   
but he is  just we ourselves4 ,it was so
 indeed that ,i had thought and         
wondered4  ,i had read often of         
adulterers and murderers in the         
newspapers1  and had thought of them as 
,i thought of lepers or of cannibals1   
in no way imagining that my youthful    
escapade could render such  words       
applicable to me4 ,i had accustomed     
myself to calling my crime  gallantry in
 my own thoughts1 and ,i should have    
regarded one who used  harsher language 
as wanting in delicacy and in breeding2 
and now ,i  found myself branded as     
,murderer and ,seducer to all ,eternity6
    ,murderer6 you say4 ,yes1 murderer1 
for seduction is moral murder2  and the 

man who has thus sinned against a woman 
is fit only to stand  side by side with 
him who has taken a life4 ,ay1 and his  
is not seldom  the more awful           
punishment1 for ,god will as surely     
require the spiritual  life at the hands
 of the seducer1 as ,he will the bodily 
life at the  hand of the murderer4      
,the one thing of all others which added
 to the unutterable horror of  that     
moment1 was the memory of the false and 
lying excuses with which ,i  had striven
 to palliate my sin to myself4 ,i       
remember that such excuses  took form   
and shape1 and haunted and tortured me  
like devils--as indeed  they were--of my
 own begetting4 ,the relation of the    
sexes1 ,i had  often said when striving 
to silence an uneasy conscience1 ,bah6  
it is  but a yoke of man's imposing4 ,i 
take the woman ,i love to live with  me1
 and she and ,i are shunned as lepers4  
,yonder is a man who follows  the same  
precedent and from the same motive2 and 
because a priest has  murmured a few    

words of sanction over the contract1 he 
and his partner  are fted and flattered4
 ,how can the indulgence of a natural   
passion  which in one set of            
circumstances is fair and honourable1 in
 another be  sinful and foul8 ,fair is  
fair1 and foul is foul1 and no muttering
 of a  man can transform the one into   
the other4    ,this is the way in which 
,i had repeatedly striven to silence my 
conscience1 and it is but one instance  
of the way in which many others  on this
 earth are now striving to silence      
theirs4 ,for ,god's sake1 ,i  would say 
to them1 beware6 ,such hardening of the 
heart against the  ,holy ,spirit1 such  
,god-murdering 7for it is the wish to   
kill ,god1 and  to silence ,his voice   
for ever7 is the one unpardonable sin   
which is a  thousand-fold more awful in 
its consequences than is the crime which
 it  seeks to conceal4 ,it was the      
foulest stain on the soul of him who    
hung  by the dying ,saviour1 and it is1 
,i believe at this moment1 the one and  

only thing which still keeps ,hell      
,hell1 and ,satan ,satan4    ,must ,i   
write further of the torture-throes of  
that awful moment1 when  ,i first saw my
 sin in its true light8 ,god only knows 
how even now ,i  shudder and shrink at  
the mere thought of it2 but ,i have told
 you of  my crime1 and it is right that 
,i should speak also of my punishment4  
,i remember that when the realization of
 what ,i was1 and what ,i had  done1 was
 first borne in upon me1 ,i fell to the 
ground and writhed and  shrieked in     
agony4 ,the tortures of a material      
hell1--of a thousand  material          
hells1--,i would have endured with      
joyfulness could such  torture have     
drowned for one moment the              
thought-anguish that tore me4  ,nay1    
mere physical suffering--physical       
suffering meted out to me as            
punishment1 and in which1 though it were
 powerless to expiate1 ,i could  at     
least participate by enduring--,i would 
have welcomed with delirious  gladness1 

but of such relief or diversion of      
thought there was none4  ,from the mere 
mention of annihilation--the personal   
annihilation of  soul and body1 of      
thought and sensation--,i had ever      
shrunk with abject  loathing and dread2 
but to annihilation1 had it been then   
within my  reach1 ,i would have fought  
my way through a thousand devils4 ,but  
in  hell there is no escape through     
annihilation2 suicide1 the last refuge  
of tyrannous and cowardly despair1 is of
 none avail1      ,and death once dead  
there's no more dying then4    ,what had
 to be endured ,i found must be endured1
 and that unto the  uttermost1 for in   
all horrid hell there was no nook or    
cranny into  which ,i could creep to    
hide myself from the hideous spectres of
 the  past4 ,i remember that ,i rose up 
in my despair1 and stretching vain      
hands to the impotent heavens1 shrieked 
out as only one can shriek who  is torn 
by hell-torture and despair4 ,i fell to 
the ground and writhed  and foamed in   

convulsive and bloody agony4 ,i dug my  
cruel nails deep  into my burning       
eyeballs1 and tearing those eyeballs    
from their tender  sockets1 flung them  
bleeding from me2 but not thus could ,i 
blind myself  to the sights of hell1 nor
 could mere physical pain wipe out from 
my  brain the picture of the ruin ,i had
 wrought4    ,and then--but no1 ,i am   
sick1 ,i am ill1 ,i am fainting2 ,i     
cannot1 ,i  cannot write more4          
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,,vii4    ,,shows ,,the       
,,fitness ,,of ,,my ,,punishment4       
,but there will come another era1 when  
it shall be light1 and when man   shall 
awaken from his lofty dreams and find   
his dreams still there1   and that      
nothing is gone save his sleep4--,jean  
,paul4--,preface to   ,hesperus4        
,the following paragraph is taken from a
 diary which ,i kept before my  decease4
 ,i will explain later on my reason for 
giving the extract  here3--    ,it has  
been said that no man can realize to the

 full the certainty of  his own         
dissolution2 that each acknowledges the 
inevitability of death  in regard to    
others and to the race1 but cherishes a 
secret conviction  that he himself will1
 through some strange and unforeseen    
circumstance1  prove the solitary       
exception4    ,of the truth of this     
assertion as a general rule1 ,i cannot  
of  course speak1 but ,i know that ,i at
 least have never so thought4 ,on  the  
contrary1 there are moments when death  
7by which ,i do not mean  annihilation1 
but the dying into life7 seems the only 
certainty there  is before me1 all else 
being shadowy and unreal4 ,i am a child 
of  eternity dreaming the dream of time1
 and even while ,i dream ,i am half     
awake and know that ,i am but dreaming4 
,life is to me--not poetically  only1   
but positively--a dream and             
unsubstantial4 ,the world is a dream1   
things and persons are but dreams1 and  
exist for me only in my thoughts  of    
them4 ,my self-consciousness becomes    

awake1 and ,i look in and down  upon    
myself with a wonder as fresh and novel 
as if the mystery of my  own existence  
had never caused me wonder or surprise  
before4 ,i stretch  out my hand1 as an  
infant does1 and open and shut the      
fingers1 and ask  myself who ,i am and  
what ,i am doing here4 ,i tell myself my
 name1 and ,i  see that the hand1 the   
body1 and the clothes that ,i look down 
upon have  a strangely familiar aspect1 
but the name conveys no meaning to me1  
the  familiarity is but the familiarity 
of an oft-dreamed dream1 and is1 ,i     
know1 but the sign that ,i am still     
dreaming4    ,i look out each day upon  
the face of the earth with as much      
wonder and  surprise as if ,i were some 
new-comer thereon1 and were opening my  
eyes  upon it for the first and only    
time4 ,upon ,london and the life of it1 
though ,i passed half my days within the
 sound of ,st4 ,paul's1 ,i gaze and     
wonder as upon some dream-pageant1 with 
ever-increasing awe4 ,i look  up upon   

that ample dome1 large-looming1 and     
brooding like a ,presence  athwart the  
skies1 until its surroundings and itself
 and those who come  and go in the      
streets are to me as unsubstantial as 'a
 city visioned in  a dream4'    ,so     
supremely conscious am ,i at such times 
that                                ',we
 are such stuff    ,as dreams are made  
of1 and our little life    ,is rounded  
with a sleep1'    that were ,i1 while   
this mood is on me1 to open my eyes one 
morning and  find that all this present 
world and its dream-creations had passed
  away for ever1 there would hardly stir
 in my heart one momentary  thrill of   
surprise1 for ,i should but sigh and    
say1 ',ah1 then1 at last  it has come1  
and now ,i am asleep no longer6'        
,what the awakened life for which ,i am 
waiting will be like1 ,i know not       
consciously1 but something there is     
within me that does know1 and that  has 
a dumb inarticulate knowledge of it1    
like the memory of a dream  which we    

have not all forgotten1 yet cannot all  
recall4 ,that it will  be ,life1 ,i am  
sure--a life which though orbing in     
ampler cycle and  vaster sweep than this
 life1 is yet on one and the same plane 
with it1  and in no way separate and    
distinct4 ,nay1 even now this           
dream-world  would seem to be surrounded
 and insphered by the waking one1 even  
as  'time is but a parenthesis in       
eternity2' for there are realities in   
this unreal existence1 flowers and      
faces1 love and poetry1 and the  morning
 and evening skies1 which have to me no 
part in this perishable  world1 but     
which 'torment me ever with invitations 
to their own  inaccessible home4'    ,i 
have transcribed this extract from my   
earlier diary1 not because ,i  think    
there is anything in it worth           
preservation1 but because ,i believe  it
 very aptly illustrates the suitability 
of the punishment meted out  to me in   
hell to my own peculiar temperament4 ,i 
was one of those who  lived only in     

thought4 ,the world is a dream1 ,i said1
 things and  persons are but dreams1 and
 exist for me only in my thought of     
them4  ,hence to make my punishment a   
thought1 to confront me with the memory 
of my crime and of its consequences1 and
 to leave me thus hell-haunted  by the  
cry of an awakened conscience1 was to   
inflict a torment upon me  a            
thousand-fold more terrible than        
material pain4    ,to those1 however1   
who think with ,heine1 that mental      
torture is more  easily to be endured   
than physical pain1 ,i have a word to   
say4 ,when ,i  was in hell1 ,i saw there
 the souls of men and women whom ,i had 
known in  life1 and ,i learnt something 
of the nature of their sufferings4      
,unlike  my own1 that punishment was1 in
 many cases1 not mental but physical2   
and to those who are incapable of       
realizing what agony a thought  can     
bring1 let me say that hell has too its 
bodily punishment1 and  punishment from 
which there is no escape4               

,illustration          ,,chapter ,,viii4
    ,,make ,,an ,,unexpected ,,discovery
 ,,in ,,hell1 ,,and ,,meet ,,with ,,an  
,,old  ,,acquaintance4     ,the servants
 said unto ,him1 ,wilt ,thou then that  
we go and gather   them up8 ,but ,he    
said1 ,nay2 lest while ye gather up the 
tares1 ye   root up also the wheat with 
them4 ,let both grow together until the 
harvest4--,matt4 xiii4 #bh1 #bi1 #cj4   
,i come now to what ,i think is the     
strangest part of my story4 ,when  any  
one dies1 ,i had been told in childhood1
 he goes to one or the  other of two    
places--either to hell or to            
heaven--according to whether  he has    
been a good or bad man1 and ,i recollect
 being not a little  troubled in my     
childish mind as to what became of the  
people whose  virtues were about equally
 matched with their vices 7as ,i had    
even then  discovered was not seldom the
 case71 and whose chances between hell  
and  heaven were what we used to call in
 my schoolboy days 7,i do not say it    

irreverently7 a toss-up4    ,even ,god  
must be puzzled sometimes1 ,i used to   
think to myself1 to  know what to do    
with the folk who are not wicked enough 
for hell1 but  a little too bad for     
heaven4 ,once after ,i had been taken to
 hear a  long evangelical sermon1 ,i    
thought ,i saw a way out of the         
difficulty by  assuming that when ,god  
weighed a man 7,i use the phraseology of
 the  sermon referred to1 and ,i        
remember that not being clear as to how 
much  of the language was figurative or 
otherwise ,i had an idea that souls     
really were weighed in some sort of     
celestial balance7 and found him        
wanting1 ,he turned the scale in the    
sinner's favour by pouring in  some of  
the blood of ,christ4 ,i can recall1    
too1 that for a day or two  ,i went     
about fancying myself quite a juvenile  
theologian1 until the  conviction that  
even ,god must draw the line somewhere1 
set me thinking  that a good many folk  
would thus be consigned to the bad place

 for  doing that which was only a very  
little more wicked than was done by     
those who were admitted to the good one4
    ,my ideas about hell and heaven1    
even at the time of my death1 were  not 
very clear and not very many1 although  
,i do not think they were  more cloudy  
and less practical than are the ideas   
entertained upon the  subject by other  
folk4 ,i had been brought up in all the 
old-fashioned  orthodox and scriptural  
notions1 and going to heaven was as     
inseparable in my mind from upward      
motion of some sort as going to  hell   
was with downward motion4 ,each of the  
places was a separate  and distinct     
one--the former being situated1         
according to my belief1  somewhere in   
the direction of the zenith1 while the  
latter ,i localized  in the bowels of   
the earth1 and connected in my thoughts 
with fire and  darkness4 ,now let me    
give the results of my experiences1     
premising  only that in regard to what  
,i have to say about the after life1 it 

must be understood that ,i am speaking  
only of that ante-chamber of the        
spirit-world--that in some sense        
purgatory1 as ,i am half inclined to    
hold it--into which ,i have had         
admittance4    ,my experiences1 then1   
are briefly these4 ,the good and the bad
 are not  parted1 but exist together as 
they exist here1 and heaven and hell as 
separate places have no existence4    ,i
 will tell you how ,i first came to     
discover this4 ,i have said that  after 
my change 7in the spirit-world that     
which we call death is  spoken of as the
 change7 ,i awoke to find myself in     
hell1 and ,i  ought perhaps to add that 
,i used the word as indicating a state  
of  mental or physical suffering--in my 
case the former--and not with any  local
 significance4    ,even in hell1        
however1 there are moments when the     
intensity of the  suffering is1 for a   
narrow space of time at least1 relaxed1 
and when  the anguish-stricken spirit is
 mercifully allowed a temporary         

reprieve4  ,such a moment occurred after
 the first awful paroxysm of            
self-loathing  and torture which ,i     
experienced when my past life was made  
known to  me in its true colours1 and it
 was in this saner1 and comparatively   
painless interval1 that ,i met in the   
spirit realm one whom ,i had known  and 
honoured on earth as a woman of the     
purest life and character4  ,being still
 under the impression that ,i was in    
hell in the sense in  which ,i had been 
accustomed to think of that place1 ,i   
started back upon  seeing her1 and      
hardly noticing her words of greeting1  
cried out in  astonishment1 ,you here6  
,you6 and in ,hades6    ,where else     
should ,i be except where he is8 she    
answered quietly1  adding1 as she       
observed my look of evident perplexity1 
,it is ,arthur1  of course1 of whom ,i  
speak4    ,i remembered then that when  
,i had known her first1 her only living 
relative was a worthless brother of that
 name1 to whom she was  passionately    

attached1 but who had been dead so long 
that ,i had hardly  any recollection of 
him4 ,before ,i could question her      
further1 ,i suppose  she saw something  
in my face which told her all that was  
necessary  to be known of my own story1 
for she suddenly burst into tears1 and  
taking both my hands in her own with a  
gesture of compassionate grief1         
exclaimed1 ,forgive me my foolish and   
selfish forgetfulness6 ,oh1 ,i am  so1  
so sorry6    ,it was from her that ,i   
first gathered that even for me there   
was yet  hope1 and it was from her lips 
that ,i learned much of that which ,i   
have  to tell of the spirit-world4      
,do you think1 said she to me1 when ,i  
had again expressed my wonder  at       
finding that heaven and hell were not as
 ,i had supposed1 separate  places1 ,do 
you think that ,i could be happy        
anywhere separated from my  brother8    
,why1 even ,dives in the parable was    
unable to forget the five  brethren he  
had left behind him1 and cried out amid 

the flames1 asking  that ,lazarus might 
be sent to warn them1 lest they too     
should come to  that place of torment4  
,is it likely1 then1 that any wife1     
mother1 or  sister1 worthy the name1    
would be content to settle down         
idle-handed in  heaven knowing that a   
loved one was in hell and in agony8 ,i  
know there  are folk on earth who try to
 smooth out the creases that crop up in 
the  creed-roll of their convictions1 by
 asserting that the truly regenerate    
soul will unconditionally surrender     
everything to the will of ,god1  and    
that they1 for their part1 are quite    
prepared to leave the fate  of their    
erring fellow-creatures in the hands of 
the ,creator4 ,i don't  say that they   
are not right in so speaking1 although1 
as far as ,i am  concerned1 ,i have more
 sympathy with old ,dives and his wish  
to warn his  sinning brethren4 ,but how 
are we to know what is the final will of
 ,god  in regard to one's fellows8 ,when
 we are satisfied that a man who has    

fallen into the water is dead1 we may   
not unnaturally conclude that  the will 
of ,god1 as far as this world is        
concerned1 is that he should  come to an
 end by drowning1 and we must bow to    
that will2 but as long  as we can see a 
'kick' left in him1 we feel that we must
 do all we can  to bring him round      
again4 ,isn't that natural8    ,i       
suppose ,i must have manifested some    
surprise at the plainness of her        
speaking1 for after glancing at me for a
 moment with an amused smile1  and with 
a twinkle of her old humour 7,i mean    
that kindly eye-twinkling  of humour    
which is not far removed from the       
trickle of a tear-drop1  and which1 for 
all her piety1 had been a noticeable    
element in her  personality71 she said1 
as if in reply to what was in my mind1  
,no1 ,i  don't speak like a sanctified  
spirit1 do ,i8    ,i was a little taken 
aback by her question1 but answered that
 ,i was  somewhat surprised at the      
homeliness of her speech1 but was glad  

to  find that death had left her old    
personality unaltered4    ,of course it 
has1 she answered1 my personality is    
just the old  personality of my         
earth-life1 and ,i should not wish it to
 be otherwise4  ,to awaken after the    
change1 which you call death1 only to   
find that  one's personality had been   
transformed into that of another        
person--no  matter how excellent that   
other person might be--would not be     
immortality but transmutation4 ,but you 
were about to ask me a question         
concerning my brother before we got upon
 the subject of personality1  she       
continued2 you didn't put your question 
into words1 but your looks  expressed   
it1 and thoughts cannot be concealed in 
the spirit-world4    ,yes1 ,i said1 ,i  
had a question to ask you1 and it is    
this3 ,you  know how surprised ,i was to
 find that heaven and hell are not1 as  
,i  supposed1 separate places4 ,now what
 is ,god's reason for allowing the  good
 and the bad to exist together here1 as 

they do on earth8 ,is it  because ,he   
shrinks from breaking up the old        
family-life 7as it must be  broken1 if  
right-doers and wrong-doers be set      
apart71 and because ,he  would still use
 the influence of the good to reclaim   
the evil8    ,even that1 she said1 ,i   
cannot tell you1 for ,i am a mere child 
in ,his  kingdom4 ,i do know that many  
of heaven's noblest are engaged1 as ,i  
am1  in striving to stir up souls to    
repentance2 but whether our efforts to  
save the sinner from his sin after death
 are of any avail1 ,i cannot  say       
positively1 for it has not been given me
 to know4 ,we are told that  after ,his 
death our crucified ,lord preached to   
the spirits in prison2  and although the
 theologians will explain it all away   
for you if you  will let them1 ,i       
believe that ,he came here to hell in   
search of the  so-called lost1 and ,i   
don't think ,i can be doing anything    
opposed to  ,his will1 in trying all ,i 
can to save my brother4    ,when you and

 ,i were on earth together1 she         
continued1 after a pause1  you once sent
 me a copy of the ,contemporary ,review1
 containing  an article written by ,dr4 
,knighton4 ,the name of the article was 
',conversations with ,carlyle1' and the 
writer related one conversation  in     
which ,i was very much interested1 and  
which ,i have often thought of  since4  
,i read it so many times1 that ,i think 
,i can remember it word for  word4      
',i was going to tell you about an      
,indian poem which some one sent me     
translated1' said ,carlyle4 ',i think it
 was called the ,mahabarat4 ,it         
describes seven sons as going off to    
seek their fortunes4 ,they all go       
different ways1 and six of them land in 
hell after many adventures4  ,the       
seventh is of nobler seed2 he           
perseveres1 fights his way manfully     
through great trials4 ,his faithful dog1
 an ugly little monster1 but  very      
faithful1 dies at last4 ,he1 himself1   
fainting1 and well-nigh  despairing1    

meets an old man1 ,indra disguised1 who 
offers to open for  him the gates of    
heaven4 ,but where are my brothers8 he  
asks2 are  they there8 ,no1 they are all
 in hell4 ,then ,i will go to hell too1 
and stop with them1 unless you get them 
out4 ,so saying1 he turns  off and      
trudges away4 ,indra pities him1 and    
gets his brothers out of  hell4 ,the six
 enter heaven first1 the seventh stops4 
,my poor faithful  dog1 says he2 ,i will
 not leave him4 ,indra remonstrates1 but
 it is  useless4 ,the faithful dog1 ugly
 as he was1 is too well remembered1  and
 he will not have paradise without it4  
,he succeeds finally1 ,indra  relents1  
and lets even the dog in4 ,but1 sir1'   
added ,carlyle1 'there is  more pathos  
about that dog than in a thousand of our
 modern novels1  pathos enough to make a
 man sit down and cry almost4'    ,yes1 
,i said1 ,i remember the story well4 ,i 
wonder what old ,carlyle  would say     
about it now8 ,have you ever seen him   
here8 or ,emerson8 or  ,richter8 or     

,robertson of ,brighton8    ,robertson6 
she answered2 as yet ,i know only one of
 the many circles  into which the       
spirit-world seems naturally to resolve 
it2 but ,i  suspect that if you and ,i  
could see where ,robertson is1 we should
 find  him infinitely nearer to the     
,father-heart of the universe than ,i at
  least can for countless ages ever hope
 to attain6    ,what do you mean by     
'circles'8 ,i said4 ,am ,i to understand
 that there  is a kind of sifting and   
sorting process going on1 by which each 
human  soul is1 on its arrival here1    
assigned a fitting place and level among
  his or her spiritual fellows8    ,i   
don't know that ,i should express it    
quite in those words1 she  answered1    
although ,i cannot think just now of a  
less clumsy way of  putting it1 but     
there is some such gathering of like to 
like as that of  which you speak4 ,the  
majority begin1 as we did1 in this lower
 circle1  and remain here until they are
 fitted to move onward to a higher      

sphere4 ,others take a place in that    
higher sphere immediately1 and some  few
 are led into the ,holy ,presence       
straightway4 ,to die is not to close    
the eyes on earth merely to open them   
the next minute in heaven2 it  is not a 
sudden transition from darkness to      
light1 or from light to  darkness4 ,no1 
it is a slow and gradual awakening1 for 
no human soul  could bear so sudden a   
shock4 ,your own transition was1        
comparatively  speaking1 an             
exceptionally rapid one1 but ,i know of 
some who have  been 'changed' for a     
quarter of a century1 and are only now  
becoming  conscious of the fact4 ,of one
 thing you may be certain1 and that is  
that ,god is never in a hurry in the    
education of a human soul4 ,he works  in
 this world as in the natural one1 not  
by fits and starts and sudden           
convulsions1 but by slow and            
imperceptible developments1 and none but
  ,himself knows what ,he is going to   
make of us before ,he has done--if      

indeed ,he ever will have done1 which ,i
 question4 ,whatever sphere of  work ,he
 may assign to us here is the one for   
which ,he has all along  been preparing 
us4 ,our ,saviour told the disciples    
that in ,his ,father's  house were many 
mansions1 not one big one where they    
were all to dwell  together1 but 'many  
mansions1' and that ,he went to prepare 
a place for  them2 and you may be       
positive that ,he would not so have     
spoken were not  some individual        
preparation necessary4    ,i do not know
 in which of these 'mansions of the     
blest' ,frederick  ,robertson1 of whom  
you ask1 is now dwelling1 but you must  
not  think because his spiritual circle 
is far removed from mine that  all      
communication and companionship are cut 
off between us4 ,on the  contrary1 he is
 often1 very often1 here1 and ,i have   
not seldom held  soul-communion with him
 and felt his spirit near to me4 ,this  
circle1  however1 is but the outer edge 
of the spirit-world--only one step1     

indeed1 removed from the life of the    
earth and of the body--and ,i don't     
think we are capable yet of             
understanding the finer distinctions of 
spiritual companionship4 ,and then her  
voice seemed to sound to me like  the   
voice of one in the far distance1 ,i    
felt the darkness closing in  upon me on
 every side1 and knew that my hour of   
punishment was again at  hand4    ,upon 
the details of that punishment it would 
serve no good purpose  again to dwell1  
and if in the next two or three chapters
 ,i make only  a passing allusion to my 
subsequent sufferings in ,hades1 the    
reader  must understand that it is not  
because those sufferings had in any way 
ceased to be1 but because ,i wish to put
 more prominently forward the  singular 
facts in regard to the condition of     
others1 which came to my  knowledge     
during the time of my sojourning in the 
spirit-world4 ,that  these facts were   
not without their own influence in      
bringing about  the change in myself1   

hereafter to be described1 will1 ,i     
think1 be  apparent to all1 but that    
change ,i shall not attempt to trace    
out1 step  by step1 to its ultimate     
development4 ,it is of what ,i saw and  
heard1  rather than of what ,i endured1 
that ,i now come to speak1 and although 
my recollections are all too            
disconnected and fragmentary ,i give    
those  recollections just as they still 
linger in my memory1 and without        
attempting to follow too closely the    
narrative of my own personal  doings in 
,hades4    ,illustration                
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,ix4  
,i ,,see ,,some ,,strange ,,sights ,,in 
,,hell1 ,,and ,,am ,,favoured ,,with    
,,something ,,in  ,,the ,,nature ,,of ,a
 ,,sermon4      ,they eat1 and drink1   
and scheme1 and plod1      ,they go to  
church on ,sunday2    ,and many are     
afraid of ,god1      ,and more of ,mrs4 
,grundy4      ,it is a long time ago    
since ,religion first took to preaching 
at the  ,world1 and now at last the     

,world has grown wearied of it1 and has 
taken in her turn to preaching at       
,religion2 and in this verse by ,mr4    
,locker-,lampson she has a text which is
 sternly1 trenchantly1 grimly  true in  
its satire4 ,i know there are folk who  
affect to be scandalized  at what they  
consider an irreverence1 but ,i for one 
can recall no  sermon in which the      
worldliness and the worthlessness of    
many so-called  ,christians have        
received as terrible a rebuke as they   
have in these  lines by a writer of vers
 de socit4    ,i will tell you why ,i   
have introduced this topic into my      
diary4 ,when  ,i was in hell1 ,i saw one
 there whom1 save for his averted looks 
and  pitiable endeavours to escape my   
observation1 ,i should probably have    
passed unnoticed4 ,he was one of those  
at whom the verse ,i have quoted  is    
directed4 ,his pitfall in life had been 
nothing more vicious than  vanity4 ,he  
was a coward who was so blind in his    
cowardice that he  feared ,god less than

 he feared ,mrs4 ,grundy1 and who1 in   
order to  secure the approval of man1   
had not scrupled to do that which he    
knew  was hateful to his ,maker4 ,his   
life had been a living lie4 ,love of    
approbation was so strong in him that he
 was never happy except in  perpetually 
posing and in endeavouring to pass      
himself off for that  which he knew he  
was not4 ,and with what result8 ,that he
 had spent his  days in preparing for   
himself his punishment4 ,the one and    
only aim of  his existence had been to  
win the approval of others1 and1 lo6 one
  morning he awoke in ,hades to find    
himself the despised of the despised    
and the laughing stock of the very      
,devil4 ,he had so pandered to his  love
 of approbation that it had grown at    
last into a disease1 and ,i saw  few    
more pitiable sights in my wanderings   
than that of this wretched  creature1   
slinking shamefacedly through hell1 and 
wincing1 as from a  blow1 at the glance 
of every passer4    ,of all vices none  

is so vindictive to its wretched victim 
as vanity4  ,it is continually craving  
for the wherewithal to gratify its      
insatiate  appetite1 whilst growing but 
the hungrier for a meal4 ,the very      
clamorousness of its demands not seldom 
defeats its own purpose1 for  sooner or 
later it is sure to be discovered1 and  
none of us honour  the man whom we      
suspect of jumping to gain our good     
opinion4 ,of the  power which vanity may
 acquire over a human soul ,i read      
lately an awful  instance4 ,we are told 
that the last emotion visible on the    
face of  ,pranzini1 the ,french         
murderer1 as he stood waiting to be     
despatched  into eternity1 was a simper 
of gratified vanity 7and what share     
vanity  had in bringing him to that     
scaffold only ,he who reads all hearts  
can tell7 at being the prominent object 
of interest to so large and             
distinguished an assembly4 ,and that as 
he was about to step with blood  upon   
his soul into the presence of the ,great

 ,avenger6           99       99        
99       99       99    ,men create     
their ,god after their own image1 says  
,mr4 ,stigand in his  ,life of ,heine2  
and it is a fact that the conception of 
,god changes  with the manners and      
morals of a people4 ,to our ,puritan    
forefathers  ,he was a just but awful   
,judge1 who1 from ,his home in the vast 
abysses  of space1 kept an unwinking    
watch upon us1 ,his creatures1 and1 with
  eyes of telescopic minuteness1 noted  
every breach of ,his commandments1  in  
order that ,he might visit it with a    
fiery and fearful vengeance4  ,that     
man-created ,god is no more3 ,he is     
dead1 and another ,god reigns  in ,his  
stead2 but in our natural reaction from 
the conception of the  vindictive ,god  
of past generations1 we have come1 in   
these days1 to  lose sight of the fact  
that our ,god is a chastening one4 ,not 
only have  we turned a deaf ear to the  
thunders and the threats of             
old-fashioned  orthodoxy1 with its talk 

of everlasting punishment and lakes of  
brimstone1 but many of us pooh-pooh the 
thought of a hell at all1  and speak of 
,god as though ,he were a good-natured  
and weakly-indulgent  parent1 on whose  
leniency we might lightly presume1      
forgetting that  sin--unrepented        
sin--never can and never must go        
unpunished4    ,it was in this          
contemptuously indifferent way that one 
whom ,i knew  well on earth was         
accustomed to speak4 ,he was a man of   
free and open  disposition1 with a      
perfect genius for friendship1 but his  
life would  not bear too close an       
inquiry4 ,i remember his being warned in
 my  presence of the punishment which   
must await the course he was pursuing1  
and his answering1 as ,i had often heard
 him answer before1 that even  if he    
were on the road to hell 7if1 indeed1   
such a place existed1  which he was     
inclined to doubt71 he had at least the 
consolation of  knowing that plenty of  
other good fellows were bound for the   

same  destination1 and that he was quite
 sure that he should feel more at  home 
among the sinners in hell than he should
 among the saints in  heaven4    ,well1 
when ,i was in hell1 ,i saw a sight     
there which is worth recording  as an   
example of the ingenuity of the ,devil  
in apportioning to each  person the     
punishment best fitted to his individual
 case4 ,i say of  the ,devil1 because ,i
 learned that he has a part 7under      
certain  restrictions and by ,divine    
permission7 in the imposition of        
necessary  chastisement1 and he is      
therefore an unwitting worker in the    
kingdom of  heaven4 ,he has indeed been 
such a worker from the beginning1 for in
  spite of his serpent-like cunning and 
subtlety1 he was the first fool1  and   
will be the last4 ,the acknowledged and 
ancient enemy of ,god1 he is  and has   
been playing into the hands of the      
,almighty for ages1 and among  all fools
 none is so simple a fool as he4    ,the
 sight1 then1 to which ,i have referred 

was that of a desolate plain1  low-lying
 and unlighted1 and in the centre of it 
there roamed one who  called out ever   
and anon1 as if in search of a          
companion1 but to whom  there came no   
answer save the distant echo of his own 
cry4 ,a more  lonely and lifeless spot  
,i have never seen4 ,the silence which  
brooded  over the place seemed sometimes
 to oppress the forsaken wanderer like a
  presence1 for1 with a half-affrighted 
and despairing cry1 he set off at  a    
panic-stricken run1 as if seeking to    
escape this silence by flight2  but1    
notwithstanding his haste1 he made1 ,i  
observed1 no progress1 for  he was but  
moving round and round in one continuous
 ring4 ,of this1  however1 he seemed    
unaware2 for once1 when he passed near  
me1 ,i heard  him cry out as if in      
despair1 ,is there no living soul in all
 this void  and voiceless desert8 ,and1 
as he hurried by1 and ,i caught a sight 
of  his face1 ,i saw that it was the    
face of the man who had said that hell  

would not be hell to him so long as he  
and his boon companions were  together4 
99       99       99       99       99  
,another former acquaintance that ,i met
 there interested me even more4  ,he was
 a man whom ,i had always regarded as   
deeply religious1 and his  presence in  
hell 7by which ,i mean as one who was   
undergoing punishment7  was to me the   
greater cause for surprise4    ,what is 
it1 ,i said to him1 that brings you     
here8 not impurity1  surely8 and ,i     
cannot think of any other reason4       
,no1 he answered1 it is not impurity1   
for that was never one of my  failings4 
,to this day1 ,i am unable to understand
 the relish with which  most young men  
7and occasionally1 be it said with      
shame1 those who  are not young7 listen 
to the kind of conversation which is    
current  sometimes in the smoking-room4 
,we hold our handkerchiefs to our noses 
when we pass a place where there is an  
unpleasant odour1 and turn  hastily away
 if we come upon a repulsive sight2 and 

impure talk affects  me always as does a
 disgusting object or a nauseous smell4 
,you are surprised at finding me here in
 hell1 because you have always  believed
 me to be one who thought much and felt 
deeply on religious  subjects4 ,but you 
forget that to have religious feeling1  
and to act  upon religious principle1   
are in many ways distinct4 ,there are   
men who1  though they are naturally     
incapable of lofty thought1 would scorn 
to  do anything immoral or mean2 and1 on
 the other hand1 there are men who  feel
 intensely on all religious subjects1   
who pray fervently and often1  sing     
hymns with eyes streaming with tears of 
heartfelt earnestness1  and yet their   
actions are not seldom unworthy1 and    
their lives will  not bear too close an 
inquiry4 ',there is no self-delusion    
more fatal1'  as ,mr4 ,lowell has said1 
'than that which makes the conscience   
dreamy  with the anodyne of lofty       
sentiment1 while the life is grovelling 
and  sensual4' ,it is a delusion which  

bids a man close his eyes lest he see   
where he is going2 it comes to him with 
its harlot-beauties daintily  draped in 
the robes of an angel of light1 and     
sings hymns before the  very gates of   
hell4 ,it is because ,i am one who so   
deluded1 or who  tried so to delude     
himself1 that you and ,i meet here      
to-day4 ,we set  out together with the  
broad path and the narrow path before   
us4 ,you1  by one fatal and irrevocable 
step1 swerved to the broad path from    
the narrow1 and that single step plunged
 you headlong and hopeless  into this   
abyss4 ,and ,i1 well1 ,i appeared to    
myself and to others to  be walking in  
the narrow way2 and yet1 by the making  
of continual  divergences1 so trifling  
as to seem of but little or no account1 
,i  find myself eventually in the same  
awful abyss that you are in1 and  on a  
level fully as loathsome as your own4   
,though ,i have committed no  such crime
 as you have committed1 ,i was1 in the  
petty details of my  daily life1        

habitually untrue2 and so the time came 
at last1 in which1  with every desire to
 serve ,god faithfully and to follow the
 dictates  of conscience1 ,i found that 
the power to make my will subservient to
  my wishes had slipped unnoticed from  
me4 ,habit has the strength of a  giant1
 for good as well as for evil1 and the  
will to do right on every  occasion is  
as much a matter of training as is mere 
physical strength4  ,the man who is     
habitually untrue in small things1      
cannot1 even though  he wish it1 do     
right in great ones1 any more than the  
man of untrained  muscle can1 by a mere 
exercise of volition1 lift weights which
 would  try the practised athlete4 ,the 
only way in which to become ,christlike 
is not to endeavour to feel so1 not to  
seek to arouse sentiment or  emotion 7as
 drunkards fly for strength to          
stimulants71 but to make  ,christliness 
the persistent and unconditional habit  
of our lives4 ,we  must learn day by day
 to resist the first rising of a desire 

to do1  or to say1 or to think1 that    
which we know diverges by the hundredth 
part of an inch from the path which     
conscience would have us to walk2  and  
we must so school ourselves that we can1
 by sheer force of will1  rise above the
 mood of the moment1 so that we act not 
by impulse or by  inclination1 but by   
conscience4    ,he stopped1 and1 reading
 my thoughts1 said1 in reply to them3   
,yes1  there is1 indeed1 something      
grimly humorous in my setting up to     
preach to others2 but it cost me my hope
 of heaven1 and a lifetime1  to learn   
the lesson1 and ,god knows ,i have it by
 heart at last6 ,one  more illustration 
and ,i have done4 ,let us suppose that  
you and ,i are  standing on the deck of 
a ship which is steering straight for a 
certain  haven1 and that you put your   
hand on the helm and shift her a        
fraction  of an inch from the line on   
which she is running4 ,the angle at     
which  you have swerved from that line  
may be so utterly infinitesimal that it 

might be measured by a hair's breadth1  
but let that angle be carried  out to   
its ultimate destination1 and you will  
be borne miles and miles  away from the 
harbour for which you are bound4        
,remember1 then1 when next you are      
called upon to make choice1 be  it in   
never so trifling a matter1 between good
 and evil1 between  obeying conscience  
or disobeying her1 that you are choosing
 in that  moment between hell and       
between heaven1 not for to-day1 this    
week1 or  to-morrow1 but for eternity6  
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,x4    ,a ,,love ,,story ,,in 
,,hell4      ,and shall my sense pierce 
love1--the last relay    ,and ultimate  
outpost of eternity8--,d4,g4 ,rossetti4 
,some years ago1 a near relative of     
mine1 the editor of a certain paper1    
was taken seriously ill1 and was told by
 the doctors that complete  rest was    
absolutely necessary for his recovery4  
,as ,i had frequently  assisted him in  
the preparation of copy1 and was        

acquainted with the  routine of his     
office1 it was arranged that ,i should  
attend on certain  days in each week1   
and be answerable for the work during   
his absence4  ,the journal was one which
 was made up largely of extracts from   
other  papers1 and my duties consisted  
less in the selection of original       
matter1 than in the more prosaic plying 
of paste-brush and scissors2  but the   
number of manuscripts received was      
large1 and for a week or two  at least  
,i tried conscientiously to give each   
separate packet something  like a fair  
consideration4 ,i remember that the very
 first manuscript on  which ,i was      
called to pronounce judgment was one    
entitled1 ,the ,strange  ,confessions of
 a ,bachelor4 ,it is too lengthy to be  
printed here in  full1 but as the       
love-story from which my chapter takes  
its heading  was largely attributable to
 the publication of this manuscript1 ,i 
have  transcribed some paragraphs from  
it1 which ,i think will serve to give   

the reader a general idea of its tone4  
,the ,strange ,confessions of a         
,bachelor4    ,yes1 ,i am in love1      
although as yet ,i could not tell what  
the name of  my love is or will be4 ,but
 in every inspired poem or perfect      
picture1  in the soaring and sobbing of 
music1 in sunrise and sunset1 or in the 
sighing of the wind upon my cheek1 there
 is something which speaks to  me of    
her1 and which beckons my spirit forth  
in search of her1 as if by  the leading 
of an unseen hand4 ,and sometimes1 but  
only in my dreaming1  musing moments1 my
 thoughts1 as they wander forth into the
 blue expanse  around me1 take colour   
and shape1 and ,i see her standing by a 
tiny cot  in a cosy room where the warm 
firelight flickers on walls gay with    
pictures4 ,i see her bend with eyes that
 brim with tears of blessing to  fold   
two dimpled hands together1 and to      
listen to a baby voice which  whispers  
after hers the hallowed words to ',our  
,father in ,heaven4' ,and  as the little

 voice dies away into the holy hush of  
the last ,amen1 and  the little lids    
droop like the petals of a primrose over
 the tired  eyes1 my dream-picture      
changes again1 and ,i am rambling among 
the walks  ,i love so well1 but no      
longer alone1 no longer wrapt in        
melancholy  musing for--now trudging    
cheerily along with hand clasped fast in
 mine  and face upturned to listen1 now 
darting bird-like aside in search of    
fly or flower--there journeys ever with 
me my little son and hers4 ,we  wander  
merrily through that sunny stretch of   
meadow--the children's  meadow1 as we   
call it--where the grass grows lush and 
long1 and where  the blithe day through 
the skylark ever sings and soars2 we    
cross the  stile and enter the shady    
shelter of the ',lover's ,lane1' dark1  
as it  always is1 with the dense green  
of overarching ash and hazel1 and then  
we reach that sunny1 wind-swept and     
sloping hillside1 where he and ,i  love 
to linger1 watching the slow sailing of 

stately clouds above1 or  listening to  
the tinkle and purl of the brooklet     
which ripples over  the pebbles in the  
valley far below4 ,in the joyous wonder 
of the child  heart beside me at all    
that is beautiful in this beautiful     
world1 ,i  forget the books and the     
making of books with which my brain is  
busied2  and when the first flush of    
rapture is over and the little brain has
  sobered into calm1 ,i tell my boy of  
the ,brother-,lord who loves him1 and   
who was once such a little child as he1 
and of the dear ,lord-,father by  whom  
all that is beautiful was made4    ,the 
writer of the ,confessions then goes on 
to speak of love1 and of  the woman he  
loves2 but as his concluding paragraph  
will sufficiently  serve to give an idea
 of his thoughts on the subject1 it is  
hardly  necessary to quote the passage  
in full4 ,yes1 ,i love her1 ,i love her 
truly1 and she too loves me1 or will4   
,it is not blind love1 or foolish       
idolatry4 ,she knows all my faults--the 

pitiful paltriness of my life1  the     
selfish acts and foolish words1 the     
vanity and the vice--she knows  them    
all1 and yet she loves me1 me1 not them1
 but the true me which  these faults    
cannot altogether conceal from her1 for 
she knows that  they are not my life1   
but the trouble of it4 ,so also is my   
love for  her4 ,i love her not only for 
her present self1 but for the sake of   
the  self she is seeking to be--the self
 which in some measure indeed she  now  
is2 for that which in our truer moments 
we have striven to be2 the  ,ideal upon 
which our eyes are ever fixed1 to which 
7no matter how  sorely we may have      
sinned against it in the struggle of the
 day7 our  thoughts return at night with
 but the more unutterable if despairing 
longing and love--that in some manner we
 are1 and shall be1  notwithstanding our
 ever-recurrent failure and sin4    ,i  
do not ask or expect that she shall be  
always true to her high  ideal1 for ,i  
know that to none of us is it given to  

walk with  unfaltering feet4 ,i         
remember1 too1 that she is no angel1 but
 a woman  with womanly weakness and     
human faults1 for all of which ,i am    
touched  with true and tender sympathy1 
to love her not the less1 but the more4 
,but that she should have such an ideal1
 and be capable of such an  aim--for    
that reason1 if for no other1 ,i must   
love and honour her with  the deepest   
love and honour of my soul4 ,i am not so
 blind as to suppose  it will be all    
summer and sunshine in the life which   
she and ,i will1 ,i  hope1 one day lead 
together4 ,i know my own evil nature too
 well not to  be aware that there will  
be times when she will find it hard to  
prevent  love being turned into loathing
 and confidence into contempt2 and ,i   
think1 with sinking of spirit1 of the   
sore disappointment she will feel  when 
she finds what a shabby-souled          
common-place creature her husband  is1  
compared with the being into whom her   
love had idealized him4 ,at  such times 

of despondency1 however1 ,i try to      
remember what ,miss ,muloch  has said   
about wedded life--and who has written  
more helpful words than  she8 ',i would 
have every woman marry1' she says1 'not 
merely liking a  man well enough to     
accept him as a husband1 but loving him 
so wholly  that1 wedded or not1 she     
feels she is at heart his wife1 and none
  other's1 to the end of her life4 ,so  
faithful that she can see all his       
little faults 7though she takes care no 
one else shall see them71 yet  would as 
soon think of loving him the less for   
these1 as of ceasing to  look up to     
heaven because there are a few clouds in
 the sky4 ,so true  and so fond that she
 needs neither to vex him with her      
constancy nor  burden him with her love1
 since both are self-existent and       
entirely  independent of anything he    
gives or takes away4 ,thus she will     
marry  neither from liking nor esteem1  
nor gratitude for his love1 but from    
the fulness of her own4 ,if they never  

marry1 as sometimes happens 444  ,god   
will cause them to meet in the next     
existence4 ,they cannot be  parted2 they
 belong to one another4'    ,these are  
helpful words1 and true2 but there is a 
passage by poor  ,george ,eliot 7alas   
for that adjective671 which to me is    
still more  beautiful1 and with which ,i
 cannot do better than conclude4 ',what 
greater thing is there1' she says1 'for 
two human souls1 than to feel  that they
 are joined for life1 to strengthen each
 other in all labour1  to rest on each  
other in all sorrow1 to minister to each
 other in all  pain1' and1 'to be one   
with each other in silent1 unspeakable  
memories  at the moment of the last     
parting8'           99       99       99
       99       99    ,i was interested 
in this article as well as in the       
writer1 and asked  him for further      
contributions4 ,he responded by sending 
a couple of  sonnets1 and although the  
swing of his arm was1 to quote          
,rossetti1  freer in prose than in      

verse1 ,i accepted1 and printed them in 
the  journal of which ,i had charge4    
,when ,i came to know him afterwards1 ,i
  found that he was young1 and of that  
highly-strung nervous and poetic        
temperament which often proves little   
less than a calamity to its  possessor4 
,a more morbidly sensitive being ,i     
never met4 ,the emotional  part of his  
nature seemed in excess1 and he felt    
all--the small as  well as the great1   
the pleasant as well as the             
painful--intensely4 ,his  nervous       
vitality was too near the surface4 ,he  
was easily worked-up1  and took life1 or
 rather its incidents1 too seriously4   
,the one  intellectual thing which men  
of such a temperament would be wise to  
refrain from doing1 is not seldom the   
very thing they do--abandon  themselves 
passionately to the pursuit of poetry4  
,after that there is  little hope for   
them4 ,the world may be the richer by   
many a work of  art1 but from           
thenceforth and for ever ,sorrow will   

have them for her  own4 ,poetry strikes 
as nothing else does1 deep into the     
roots of  things1 says ,elizabeth       
,stuart ,phelps1 and one finds          
everywhere some  strain at the roots of 
one's heart4 ,moreover1 the pursuit of  
poetry  is a practice which as surely   
grows upon one as does the use of drug  
or opiate1 and my advice to the men and 
women of a highly-strung and            
supersensitive temperament--if they wish
 to make comfort their first            
consideration--is1 ,avoid poetry as you 
would poison1 making instead  a study of
 that which is animal and coarse4 ,music
 and all other  'softening' influences  
you will1 in accordance with the        
contention  of ,plato in ',the          
,republic1' deliberately eschew1        
striving rather  to acquire that        
delightful pachydermatous condition of  
feeling and  enviable indifference to   
the susceptibilities of others1 which   
add so  immeasurably to the comfort of  
life4    ,however1 to return to the     

writer of ,the ,strange ,confessions4   
,the  number of the journal containing  
his article had not been published  more
 than a couple of days1 before ,i       
received a letter signed by a  lady who 
was unknown to me1 asking that ,i would 
favour her with the  address of the     
contributor4 ,i replied1 of course1 that
 ,i could not  do so without his        
permission1 but that if she wished to be
 put into  communication with him1 and  
would send a letter addressed to the    
office  of the paper1 it should be duly 
forwarded4 ,she did so1 and when1 as    
was natural enough1 he wrote a cordial  
reply1 she found something  else in his 
letter about which to question him1 and 
a correspondence  consequently ensued4  
,whether she was or was not a heartless 
and  accomplished flirt ,i never knew2  
but if ever a woman deliberately  set   
herself to win1 and--as subsequent      
events showed--to break a  man's heart1 
it was this lady4 ,i learned afterwards 
that she was very  beautiful1 and as she

 herself wrote occasional tales and     
verses for  the magazines1 it was not to
 be wondered at that my contributor     
should  be greatly interested in her    
epistles4 ,she succeeded before long in 
making his acquaintance1 and set herself
 to carry on in earnest the  work which 
her insinuating letters had begun4 ,she 
did not1 however1  find him quite the   
easy prey which she had perhaps         
expected2 for though  it is certain that
 he loved her from the moment of        
meeting1 he was shy  and                
self-depreciatory1 and sought           
persistently to avoid her4 ,but she     
paused at nothing to effect her purpose4
 ,she had set her heart upon a  scalp1  
and by looks1 words1 and deeds1 she     
strove to convince him that  she loved  
him1 and strove at last successfully4 ,i
 remember meeting him  one morning1 and 
thinking1 as ,i watched the light which 
came into his  face when he spoke of    
her1 of the graceful lines in ,mr4      
,austin ,dobson's  ,story of ,rosina4   

,in the poem1 however1 it is the woman1 
and not the  man1 who is heart-broken3--
      ,as for the girl1 she turned to   
her new being1      ,came1 as a bird    
that hears its fellow call2    ,blessed 
as the blind that blesses ,god for      
seeing2      ,grew as a flower on which 
the sun-rays fall1    ,loved if you     
will2 she never named it so2      ,love 
comes unseen1 we only see it go4        
,when ,i saw him again all was over4 ,i 
had sought him out in his  chambers1 not
 having heard from him for a month1 and 
he did not hear  me enter4 ,her portrait
 7the one she had given him7 was before 
him1 and  he had fallen by the table1   
half-kneeling1 half-lying1 with his head
  on his arm4 ,it is a fearful thing to 
hear a strong man sob as he was  sobbing
 then6 ,god grant that ,i may never hear
 another1 or see a face of  such        
hopeless haggard misery as was his when 
he raised it6    ,it is not of him1     
however1 that ,i wish now to speak1 but 
of her4 ,of  all the faces which ,i saw 

in hell1 there was one which had for me 
a  fascination beyond any other4 ,it was
 the face of a beautiful woman1  queenly
 of manner and fair of figure as a      
full-blown lily1 and with  those deep   
dark eyes that seem to shine out from   
soul-depths1 deep as  the distant       
heaven1 and yet may mean no more than   
does the shallow  facing of quicksilver 
behind a milliner's mirror4 ,i          
recognised her  instantly by the        
portrait1 and never out of hell have ,i 
seen such  misery on any woman's face as
 ,i saw on hers4 ,the sentence in       
punishment  of her sin was a strange    
one4 ,it was that she should now love   
him  whose heart she had broken1 with   
the same passionately intense but       
hopeless love with which he had loved   
her4 ,it was a just but awful           
retribution4 ,as some death-stricken and
 hunted creature presses  frantically on
 as if to escape the arrow that it      
carries in its breast1  so1 heedless of 
all that was passing around her1        

heedless of shadow or  shine1 she       
pressed on and on through the realms of 
hell1 her eyes fixed  and wide-distended
 in agony1 and her hands clutching      
ceaselessly at  her bosom1 as if the    
heart of her were being riven in twain4 
,o ,god6  ,i heard her cry1 as she      
passed me1 my heart is broken6 my heart 
is  broken6 and1 alas1 one cannot die of
 a broken heart in hell4    ,i saw her  
once again4 ,she had fallen to the      
ground1 and with hopeless  hands pressed
 against burning brows was writhing as  
if in physical  pain1 and with her very 
soul consumed of passion4 ,one whom ,i  
knew--it  was his sister--was kneeling  
beside her1 and with gentle words       
besought her to calm herself1 but she   
pushed the ministering hand away        
despairingly1 crying out3 ,a heart      
cannot break as mine is breaking        
without a shriek4 ,if ,i had loved him1 
and he me1 and he had died1 she  said1  
,i could have borne it1 knowing that ,i 
should meet him hereafter1  but to live 

loveless through a loveless ,eternity1  
that is the thought  which kills me2 and
 then with a great cry of1 ,oh6 why     
should a  merciful ,god let any of ,his 
creatures suffer as ,i am suffering now8
  she rose up1 and fled away before me4 
,i never saw her again1 nor do ,i know  
whether or not it was given her  to win 
back the love she had lost2 but1 after  
she had gone1 ,i turned  to his         
sister--the woman who had striven to    
comfort her brother's  betrayer--saying 
that ,i thought the punishment greater  
than the sin4    ,greater than the sin6 
was the reply4 ,it may be that1 being   
his  sister1 ,i judge her harshly2 but  
if yours is the most awful crime which  
your sex can commit against womanhood1  
then it seems to me that hers--a  like  
breach of trust--is the blackest sin    
which a woman can commit  against a man4
 ,nor can it be said of hers that it was
 the deed of a  moment--a moment of     
over-mastering passion1 for it was      
deliberate and  cruel4 ,i say that that 

woman killed my brother6 she cried      
fiercely2  killed him body and soul1 and
 sent him away heart-broken1 and bereft 
of faith in womanhood and in ,god4 ,and 
to gratify what8 her vanity--a  passion 
as selfish and hateful1 if less brutal1 
than your own4 ,you  have recognised the
 loathsomeness of your act2 but she1    
,god help her6  thinks of nothing but   
herself1 and while she so thinks1 heaven
 itself  would be but hell to her1 and  
in all hell there is as yet for her no  
hope of heaven4    ,illustration        
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,xi4  
,,the ,,mystery ,,of ,,the ,,dead ,,who 
,,die4     ,of all these mysteries there
 is none which fills me with such abject
   horror and dread as the mystery of   
'the dead who die4'          ,through   
many days they toil2 then comes a day   
,they die not1--never having lived1--but
 cease2    ,and round their narrow lips 
the mould falls close4                  
,rossetti--,the ,choice4      ,it may   
occur to those of my readers who have   

neglected to bear in mind  the          
concluding words of ,chapter ,,viii41   
that notwithstanding the remorse  which 
,i have pictured myself as suffering in 
,hades1 ,i do not appear  to have been  
altogether indifferent to the           
consolations of social  intercourse1 and
 that existence in the ,unseen1 as      
represented in the  pages of this diary1
 would seem to consist largely of       
conversation  between the spirits in    
prison4 ,but because ,i have confined   
myself in  my last three chapters to the
 relation of such facts in regard to the
  condition of others1 as1 either       
through observation or conversation1    
came to my knowledge in the course of my
 singular experiences1 it must  not be  
supposed that my own sufferings had in  
any way ceased4 ,what  those sufferings 
were as described by me in my sixth     
chapter1 they  continued to be during   
the whole of the time in which it was   
ordained  that ,i should remain in      
,hades1 and each of the conversations   

here  recorded took place during that   
comparatively painless interval of      
which ,i have elsewhere spoken1 and was 
separated from the conversation         
preceding or following it by a space of 
terrible pain4 ,with which  necessary   
reminder ,i pass on to tell of the dead 
who die4    ,during the time of my      
wanderings in the spirit world1 it      
happened that  ,i had occasion to speak 
to one to whom ,i was personally        
unknown1 but  who had lived for many    
years in a country town in which ,i had 
myself  once resided4 ,though           
comparatively guiltless1 as ,i learned  
he was1 of  any criminal offence1 he    
seemed to be incessantly consumed by a  
spirit  of strange unrest1 and ,i       
noticed that1 even in his moments of    
reprieve1  he appeared unable to free   
himself from some singularly disturbing 
thought4 ,i was aware that he had at one
 time been intimate with a  former      
neighbour of mine1 and something in our 
conversation recalling  this man's name 

to my memory ,i asked my companion if he
 knew what had  become of ,henry        
,marshall8    ,the words had scarcely   
fallen from my lips before there passed 
over his  features a spasm of           
uncontrollable fear1 and with a quick   
gasping cry1  and covering his face with
 his hand1 as if to shut out some       
ghastly  vision1 he exclaimed3 ,he is   
dead2 he is dead--but why do you speak  
of  him8 ,know you not that he is of the
 dead who die8    ,of the dead who die8 
,i repeated wonderingly2 ,i do not      
understand  you4 ,surely all who are    
dead must die8    ,to this he made no   
answer1 and seeing that he was strangely
 moved1 ,i  forbore to question him     
further1 but by-and-by he became calmer 
and of  his own accord continued the    
conversation4    ,you asked me about    
,henry ,marshall1 he said1 and ,i will  
tell you  all ,i know about him2 but    
first let me explain that1 next to the  
love  of money which has been my ruin1  
my sorest hindrance on earth was my     

unbelief and faithlessness2 and that    
here in hell the punishment of  the     
unbeliever is that he shall be consumed 
by the anguish of his own  unbelief4    
,once when ,i might have believed1 ,i   
would not1 and now1  though ,i would    
believe1 ,i cannot1 but am for ever torn
 by hideous  apprehensions and doubts as
 to my own future and the future of     
those  dear to me4 ,moreover1 there are 
many things which1 clear and plain  as  
they may be to the faithful of heart and
 to the believing1 are to  my doubting  
eyes wrapt around in mystery and in     
gloom4 ,into these  mysteries it has    
been ordained as part of my punishment  
that ,i shall  ever desire to look1 and 
of all these mysteries there is not one 
which  fills me with such abject horror 
and dread as the mystery of the dead    
who die4    ,of the dead who die8 ,i    
said again2 what do you mean by those   
strange  words8    ,they are my words1  
he cried excitedly1 and with a          
hysterical laugh1  mine1 mine2 the words

 ,i use to myself when ,i think of the  
mystery  which they strove so carefully 
to conceal from me1 but which for all   
their cunning ,i have discovered4       
,listen1 and ,i will tell you about it4 
,when ,i first came here1 ,i saw1 either
 in hell or in heaven1 the faces  of    
most of the dead whom ,i had known on   
earth1 but some faces there  were       
7,henry ,marshall's was one of them7    
which ,i missed1 and which from  that   
time to this ,i have never seen4        
',where1 then1 are they8' ,i asked      
myself1 'since neither earth1 hell1 nor 
heaven knows them more8 ,has  ,god some 
fearful fate in store for the sinner1   
which may one day fall  upon me and     
mine1 as it has already fallen upon     
them8' ,as ,i felt the  shadow of that  
dark misgiving resting on my heart1 ,i  
knew that for me  another horror had    
arisen in hell1 and that rest           
thenceforth there  could be none until  
,i had solved the mystery4    ,and so it
 came about that all the moments of my  

release from suffering  were spent in   
the search for those missing faces4     
,sometimes ,i took  counsel with those  
who were in hell as ,i was1 but they    
could teach  me only that which ,i      
already knew2 sometimes ,i asked the    
help of the  souls in ,paradise1 but    
they told me nothing save that ,i must  
be no more  faithless but believing4    
,and then ,i sought to know of the      
angels where  were those lost ones1 but 
with a look of sad and pitiful meaning1 
they  passed on and left me unanswered4 
,ah6 but they could not hide their      
secrets from me6 ,no1 no1 ,i was not one
 of the credulous1 nor was ,i to  be put
 off with a frown1 and ,i have found out
 their mystery1 and you  shall share it4
    ,when you and ,i were children1 we  
were taught that every human being is   
made in the image of ,god1 and is born  
with an immortal soul4 ,but they  did   
not tell us that just as neglected      
diseases can kill the body1 so          
unchecked sin can kill the soul1 and    

that we have it in our power to so      
deface the ,divine ,image that we become
 like unto1 if not lower1 than  the     
beasts which perish1 and die out at our 
deaths as they4 ,but it is  so1 and that
 is what ,i meant when ,i said that he  
of whom you asked was  'of the dead who 
die4'    ,you shake your head1 and      
mutter that ,i am mad1 and that you     
cannot  credit such a statement4 ,well1 
perhaps ,i am mad--mad with the horror  
of my unbelief2 but why should it not be
 as ,i say1 ,i ask you8 ,i have  brooded
 over it all a thousand times1 and am   
convinced that ,i have  solved the      
riddle1 and ,i will tell you why ,i     
think so4    ,god is answerable to      
,himself for ,his actions1 and when ,he 
made man1  ,he made a man1 and not a    
puppet--a being of infinite             
possibilities  for good as well as for  
evil1 and to whom it was given to choose
 for  himself between the doing of the  
right or the wrong4 ,but ,god knew that 
many of those whom ,he so made would sin

 away all memory of their ,divine       
origin4 ,god did not will it so1 for ,he
 made us men1 not machines1  and the    
evil we do is of our own choosing1 but  
,god foreknew it2 and1  fore-knowing    
that1 ,god owed it to ,himself not to   
call a creature into  being1 the result 
of whose creation would be that         
creature's infinite  and eternal misery4
 ,no1 even the ,omnipotent dared not    
perpetrate so  wanton and wicked a deed 
as that1 for ,god is the inexorable     
,judge who  sits in judgment upon ,god2 
and hence it was that ,he decreed that  
those  for whom there could be no hope  
of heaven should die out at their       
deaths like the brutes4 ,doesn't that   
seem to you a probable solution8  and   
isn't it rational and feasible upon the 
face of it8 ,our life--such  as it      
is--is from ,god1 and may not ,god take 
,his own again1 and withdraw  that life 
if ,he wish it8 and could anything      
better happen to many  people whom you  
and ,i know1 than that they should be   

allowed to die  out1 and the very memory
 of them pass away for ever8    ,i was  
convinced that he was mad--mad1 as he   
had himself hinted1 with  the horror of 
his unbelief2 but ,i was interested in  
what he had to say1  and in his singular
 fancies4    ,tell me more of these     
missing faces1 and of the 'dead who     
die1' ,i  answered4 ,who are they1 for  
the most part8--murderers and criminals 
of  the most bestial nature8    ,not    
always1 he replied excitedly1 not       
always2 and that is the reason  why ,i  
am so fearful about my own future4 ,most
 of them are those who in  their        
lifetime were regarded as belonging to  
the respectable classes1  and who1 so   
far from having come at any time within 
reach of the law1  were looked upon as  
good citizens and estimable members of  
society4  ,shall ,i tell you what killed
 the immortal soul in them1 and in me1  
and  turned us into mere animated clay1 
fit only to die out like the beasts     
which perish8 ,it was money--money1 the 

love of which is often more  deadening  
to the spiritual nature than actual vice
 or sin4    ,i set out in life with one 
steadfast purpose before me--the purpose
 of  devoting myself body and soul to   
business and to the making of money4    
,it was not that ,i was indifferent to  
the attractions of a profession1  and   
still less that ,i was wanting in       
appreciation of higher things1  for ,i  
liked books and pictures and music4     
,sometimes1 too1 when ,i was  listening 
to my sister's singing of ,herrick's    
lines1 ',to ,anthea1' or to  ,ben       
,jonson's ',drink to me only with thine 
eyes1' ,i felt bitterly the  littleness 
of my aims1 and seemed to know1 as ,i   
never knew at any other  time1 what it  
was to love a woman with that high1     
whole-hearted1 and  deathless devotion  
which brings redemption and ennoblement 
to the soul  of the man to whom it      
comes4 ,but ,i said to myself3          
',patience2 first of  all let me grow   
rich2 let me make all the money ,i can  

get together1 and  then1 when ,i have   
sufficient for all my requirements1 ,i  
will forsake  the money-making1 and turn
 my thoughts to love and poetry and     
pictures2  and through them1 perhaps on 
to religion1 for ,i knew even then that 
though love and poetry are not religion1
 that they yet serve1 before a  higher  
faith has been called into being1 to    
keep the life of the soul  alive1 and to
 open up the way for holier things4     
,and so ,i became what is called a good 
business man4 ,i made business  the     
motive of my life4 ,i thought of nothing
 else1 and read nothing  but the papers1
 and these ,i only scanned for the      
purpose of observing  the influence of  
political or other passing events upon  
the markets4  ,at last ,i became rich4  
,and with what result8 ,that when ,i no 
longer  needed business1 ,i found ,i    
could live no longer without it2 that it
 had  become my life1 and ,i its slave1 
and that ,i could awaken no lasting     
interest in anything which did not      

pertain to the making of money4 ,it  is 
true that ,i had at that time a wife and
 children 7the former of  whom ,i had   
married chiefly for her fortune71 and   
was not without a  certain half-selfish 
love for them as part and parcel of     
myself2 that ,i  possessed a handsome   
house and gardens in which ,i took pride
 as being  of my own acquirement2 and   
that ,i went into society with          
enjoyment2  and found a certain pompous 
pleasure in extending my patronage to   
,sunday-schools1 bazaars and ,young     
,men's ,christian ,associations4 ,but   
where my treasure was1 there my heart   
was also1 and at heart ,i was  a        
business man1 and nothing more4 ,i did  
not know myself then as ,i  do now1 and 
so far from being in any way            
dissatisfied1 ,i had no more  suspicion 
that ,i was other than one of the most  
enviable of men1 than  has the grinning 
savage with his handful of beads4 ,but  
,i know now the  thing ,i am1 and what  
,i have missed1 and ,i tell you that the

 most sorely  swindled simpleton in     
existence is the man whose business     
capability  is so keen1 that though he  
has never been bested in a bargain1 he  
has  bartered away his own happiness for
 a bauble1 and 7so skilful a schemer  to
 defraud us is old ,satan7 has become   
bankrupt of all that makes life  worth  
the living1 in order that he may boast a
 heavy balance at his  banker's6        
,yes1 ,i was a good business man--a     
smart and shrewd business man1 as       
business men go--and ,i know much of    
such men and of their transactions2  and
 ,i tell you that1 since the days of    
,judas ,iscariot1 the money-lover  and  
grubber who sold his ,god for thirty    
pieces of silver1 as thousands  are     
selling their infinite souls this day1  
there have been no more  soulless and   
selfish creatures upon ,god's earth1    
than the men who have  made what should 
be a means to an end an end in itself1  
and who live  for business1 instead of  
by it4    ,they go to church1 many of   

them1 on ,sundays1 and subscribe        
liberally  to coal clubs and soup       
kitchens1 thinking1 poor fools6 to offer
 such  acts as those as a set-off to    
,god for the sordid self-seeking which  
has been the secret of their success in 
their commercial calling2  never        
suspecting that in their respectable    
selfishness and sordidness  of spirit1  
they are lower in the scale of being and
 farther from the  kingdom of heaven    
than is the lurking prostitute shivering
 at the  street corner1 or the drunken  
sot reeling home after a night's        
debauch4    ,that they must die out at  
their deaths1 as do the beasts1 ,i am   
convinced1 for what can ,god find for   
such men to do in heaven8--men to  whom 
the earth1 its prototype1 is nothing but
 a gigantic shop1 and to  whom ,music1  
,art1 and ,song are but as dead letters 
and foolishness2 men  who are           
susceptible to no emotion save the greed
 for gain2 and who have  let the        
infinite soul within them pine away and 

perish for the want of  the wherewithal 
to keep that soul alive4    ,and ,i1 ,i 
am one of them1 and am of the dead who  
die6 ,i have bartered  away love and    
life and happiness for such ,dead ,sea  
fruit as this2 ,i who  once was young1  
and not altogether1 as ,i now am1 a     
soulless creature  of clay6 ,for ,i can 
remember the time when flowers1         
pictures1 beautiful  faces and music set
 stirring always some strong emotion    
within me1 in  which it seemed that ,i  
saw hidden away in a crystal cell in the
 depths  of my own strange heart1 the   
shining form of a white-robed           
,soul-maiden1  who cried out to me1     
',ah6 cannot you make your life as pure 
and  beautiful as the flowers and the   
music1 that so you may set me free8'    
,but ,i chose the ignoble part1 and gave
 myself up body and soul to the  greed  
for gain4 ,and often in the hour when1  
tempted by an evil thought1  ,i turned  
to do some shameful or selfish action1  
,i seemed to see the  white arms of the 

,soul-maiden uplifted in piteous        
entreaty to heaven1  until at last the  
time came when her voice was silent1 and
 when ,i knew  that ,i had thrust her   
down and down into a darkness whence she
 would  never again come forth6    ,and 
now nor picture1 nor poem1 nor music    
moves me more1 for the soul  of me is   
dead6--is dead6 and ,i have become like 
unto the beasts that  perish1 and know  
not that at any moment ,i may flicker   
out like a spent  taper1 and become as  
the dead who die6    ,so saying1 he     
burst into a shriek of insane and       
unearthly laughter1 and  foaming at the 
mouth like a madman1 turned from me1 and
 fled gibbering  into the night4        
,illustration          ,illustration    
,,chapter ,,xii4    ,i ,,see ,,the      
,,brother ,,whom ,,we ,,have ,,all      
,,lost4      ,you believe probably in   
,god1 in ,christ1 and in ,immortality1  
and you  look with joy and gladness to  
the life beyond the grave4 ,probably1   
too1 you have suffered1 as we all have  

at some time1 from bodily pain1  mental 
affliction or bereavement1 until your   
heart has been broken and  crushed1 and 
you have felt that you could bear your  
burden no longer  were it not for the   
consolation that sorrow can last no     
longer than  life1 and that the next    
world will set this world right4 ,but   
have you  never asked yourself1 ',how if
 it should not be so after all8 ,how  if
 ,i should open my eyes in the next     
world to find again all the old         
sorrows1 the old heart-burnings1 and the
 thousand and one trivialities  which   
have made this world so weary1 stale1   
flat1 and unprofitable8'  ,have you     
never considered that the mere fact of  
the existence of these  sorrows in this 
world--the only one of which you know   
anything--is in  itself a reason why it 
is likely that such sorrows1 or similar 
ones1  should exist in the world of     
which you know nothing8 ,and have you   
never recognised that your failures have
 been the life-element of your          

successes1 and that1 since failure is   
the law of progress1 an existence  in   
which all your endeavours were          
successful would probably become        
monotonous and tame8    ,the above is an
 extract from a letter 7it lies on the  
desk before me7  from one whom ,i had   
known in my early boyhood1 and who had  
been for  many years my constant        
companion and friend4 ,had she continued
 to be my  companion it is possible that
 my story might have been a different   
one1  but she went to live in ,america  
some months before ,i was twenty1 and ,i
  never saw her again until the day that
 she and ,i stood face to face in  the  
spirit-world--,i in hell and she in     
heaven4    ,after we had exchanged      
greetings1 and each had told the other  
what was  necessary to be known of the  
past1 the conversation turned upon the  
subjects which we had so often discussed
 in our letters4 ,tell me1 ,i  said1 now
 that you really find yourself in       
heaven1 if you are in every  way        

peacefully and perfectly happy4    ,one 
moment1 before ,i give you an answer1   
she replied4 ,you are not  altogether   
wrong in calling this heaven1 although  
it is little more  than the ante-chamber
 between earth and heaven4 ,it is my    
heaven at  present1 but it will not be  
my heaven always1 any more than it will 
be  always your hell1 and although it is
 heaven1 it is not the heaven4  ,of that
 neither you nor ,i can form any shadowy
 conception4 ,now for  your question4   
,there is only one thing which troubles 
me1 and that is  ignorance4 ,i had      
always thought that in the spirit-world 
one would know  everything4 ,i don't    
mean that ,i expected to find myself    
omniscient1  but ,i did think that ,i   
should know all one would wish to know4 
,i need  hardly tell you ,i was wrong4  
,with whatever knowledge we have        
acquired  and with whatever intellectual
 ability we have developed up to the    
point of our leaving the earth-world1   
with that1 and with no more1 do  we make

 our first start in the spirit realm4 ,i
 do think our capability  of            
intuitionally apprehending truth is in  
some way intensified by  the transition 
which you speak of as death3 but of     
intellectual  change there is absolutely
 none2 and there are things relating to 
the  after-life1 as well as to the      
earthly one1 concerning which 7never    
having studied them whilst ,i was in the
 body7 ,i am far more ignorant  than are
 many dwellers under the sun4    ,that  
,i can well believe1 ,i replied2 but    
putting aside the fact that  you are    
troubled sometimes by a consciousness of
 ignorance1 tell me if  in other        
respects you are happy4    ,no good can 
come to one of being in a place where   
everything is  too easy1 she answered1  
and if heaven were the abode of perfect 
happiness--this heaven1 ,i mean--,i     
think we should find it somewhat        
wearisome4 ,when ,i was on earth ,i     
longed for heaven1 not that ,i might  be
 delivered from sorrow1 but from        

sinfulness2 and ,i think ,i may say     
that ,i am as happy here as my failures 
will let me be4    ,your failures6 ,i   
exclaimed1 wonderingly1 your failures6  
,yes1 she said1 my failures4 ,on earth  
failure is1 as you know1 the  law of    
progress1 and even here progress is only
 achieved through that  which is1 after 
all1 in some degree a non-success4 ,i   
don't quite  know how to make my meaning
 clear to you1 but perhaps we can't do  
better than look back to the old        
earth-life for an illustration4 ,that   
earth-life--the life which we lead on   
earth1 ,i mean--is1 as you know1  poor1 
pitiable and paltry2 we feel it so1 we  
cannot but feel it so1  when it is      
viewed in the lofty light of our        
possibilities4 ,each morning  finds us  
beginning the world afresh1 and with the
 high hope that at  last the time has   
come when we shall be true to ourselves 
and to our  aspirations1 that at last we
 shall veritably and indeed do some     
lasting  work for ,god and for our      

fellow-creatures4 ,and each evening6 ah6
 each  evening6 is it not ever the same 
sad story1 ever the same old bitter     
experience8 ,you have spoken of it      
yourself in those verses you sent me  so
 many years ago3      ',each morning    
hails a new ,endeavour's birth1    ,each
 evening weeps its pitiful corpse       
before4'    ,hardly has the freshness   
faded out of the morning air before the 
world  spirit is at our side again2 she 
is whispering in our ear2 her white     
wooing arms are around us2 her warm     
breath is on our cheek2 there is  a     
brief1--how brief and feeble6--attempt  
at resistance1 and then1 ah6  then1 we  
are broken and undone4 ,and often as1   
with lips hot and dry1  with cheeks     
fevered and flushed1 we look back to    
that serene-souled  self1 which but a   
few short hours ago stood in rapt       
adoration under the  silence of a       
midnight sky1 and held high communion   
with its ,creator1 we  can hardly bring 
ourselves to believe that we and it are 

one and the  same being4 ,yet1 in spite 
of the paltriness of the earth-life1 in 
spite  of the vice1 and the shame1 there
 is one element in the strife which     
lends dignity even to our very failures1
 for in our battling against  the       
ever-present evil1 and in our struggle  
towards the ever-unattained  good1 we   
come within sight of a possibility1     
higher1 perhaps1 than  that of which    
even angels can conceive4 ,the sin and  
the shame are  after all but human2 the 
effort and determination to overcome    
them are  ,divine4    ,well1 without    
some sense of difficulty to be overcome1
 some sense even  of comparative        
failure1 this effort and this           
determination could never  be2 and in   
heaven1 the place of infinite progress  
and possibilities1  there is a certain  
,divine discontent which ,i know not how
 to explain  better to you than by      
calling it the heavenly counterpart of  
this  earthly effort4    ,but now tell  
me about yourself1 she said1 after a    

moment's pause1  for ,i can see that you
 have been through sore suffering since 
you came  here4    ,through sore        
suffering ,i had indeed been1 and had   
already grown old in  hell1 but the     
lines which she had quoted from my      
boyish verses1 and  the words she had   
said about the divine discontent of     
heaven1 had set  stirring some hidden   
spring in my memory1 and at the time she
 spoke ,i  was thinking of what ,robert 
,louis ,stevenson has said about that   
little  beautiful brother whom we once  
all had1 and whom we have all lost and  
mourned--the man we ought to have been1 
the man we hoped to be4 ,she  must have 
known what was in my thoughts1 for1     
taking my hand in her  own1 she repeated
 some verses which she had written and  
sent to me on  that ,easter morning 7a  
morning which must ever shine out white 
and fair  in my memory7 when she and ,i 
had knelt side by side after            
confirmation  to take our first         
communion4 ,i remember that she called  

them ,this  ,only1 and had headed them  
with the words1 ,why call ye ,me ,lord1 
,lord1  and do not the things which ,i  
say8      ,o feeble lips that lapse from
 fervent prayer1      ,to smile at sin1 
and lightly laugh at shame1    ,that in 
the chamber loud your love declare1     
,and in the world scarce dare to breathe
 ,his name1            ,whence would ye 
call ,him ,lord8      ,o changeful soul6
 now mounting like thin fire1           
,skyward and ,godward2 now like thing of
 night1    ,low-grovelling1 smirched1   
and mid foul mud and mire      ,trailing
 white pinions given for starry flight1 
,darest thou call ,him ,lord8      ,o   
morning's hope6 ,o evening's dull       
despair6      ,o lofty purpose6 puny1   
paltry deed6    ,o high resolve6 heart  
big with longings fair6      ,o loveless
 life that bears nor flower nor seed6   
,dare ye to call ,him ,lord8      ,yea1 
,i would call ,him ,lord1 and all the   
more      ,for this my sin1 else were ,i
 sore undone2    ,say1 who should seek  

,him1 if not ,i8 ,he wore      ,this    
fleshy garb1 yet in ,him sin was none1  
,so may ,i call ,him ,lord4      ,no    
heaven ,i ask1 no crystal-shining shore1
      ,nor realm of flowers--this only  
would ,i pray1    ,that mid all         
sinnings1 stumblings sad and sore1      
,i still may cling to ,thee1 dear ,lord1
 alway1            ,and still may call  
,thee ,lord4    ,she ended1 and as her  
voice died away into a whisper sweet and
 low as  the restful ripple of the rain1
 ,i hid my head between my hands and    
sobbed aloud1 for something there was in
 the words and in her way of  repeating 
them1 which carried me back in thought  
to that vanished  season of ,youth and  
,hope when pictures and poetry1 flowers 
and music1  as well as sunrise1 sunset1 
and the play of evening light upon the  
sea1  had seemed but as the visible     
embodiment of my own thoughts1 and were 
indeed to me as a part of my aspiration 
towards a loftier1 lovelier  life4      
,and then ,i remembered what manner of  

man ,i was1 and as the  shadow-horror of
 my sin arose spectre-like between      
myself and my  distant childhood1 ,i saw
 that little brother1 the child that ,i 
once  had been1 shrink back and back    
with sad reproachful eyes1 until with a 
sudden cry of anguish and despair he    
turned from me1 and fled into the       
night4    ,illustration                 
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,xiii4
    ,a ,,dream ,,of ,,eternal ,,rest4   
,do you see that young man with the     
dark1 delicate features8 she  continued1
 giving an unexpected turn to the       
conversation4 ,i mean the  one with the 
brown eyes that have so strange a look  
in them4 ,he is a  poet1 and when he was
 on earth he was blind1 but his songs   
were sad as  the sighing of the wind in 
the pine trees1 and sweet with sound1   
and  perfume1 and the love of woman4 ,he
 and ,i were then1 as now1 the most     
devoted of friends1 and it was our      
custom to spend one evening at least  in
 each week together4 ,sometimes we      

talked of places or of pictures  7in    
both of which1 notwithstanding his      
blindness1 he took a singular           
interest71 sometimes of poetry or       
flowers4 ,not seldom he would sketch    
out for me the plot of some story he was
 writing1 and often ,i would  read aloud
 while he sat listening with tranquil   
face and closed eyes in  his accustomed 
place by the fireside4 ,i remember that 
on one occasion  the piece which we thus
 read together was ,jean ,paul's ,dream 
of the ,dead  ,christ saying there is no
 ,god1 and that when next ,i saw my     
poet-friend1  he told me that after ,i  
had left him1 he had fallen asleep1 and 
dreamed  a dream which he spoke of as   
'the most impudent piece of plagiaristic
  imitation which ever was perpetrated1'
 and which he called his ',dream  of    
,eternal ,rest4'    ',as ,i sat here in 
the darkness which has now become to me 
like a house  of which ,i am the only   
tenant1' he said1 ',i fell asleep and   
dreamed  that ,i saw my life lying      

behind me like the line of              
phosphorescent  light which marks the   
track of a fallen star--a line traced in
  darkness1 and which arising in        
darkness dies away into darkness again2 
and in my dream an angel appeared unto  
me1 and1 laying his hand upon my        
shoulder1 said1 ,thou who probest the   
mysteries of life1 and peerest  into the
 time which is to be1 arise1 come with  
me1 and ,i will show thee  something of 
that which thou seekest4 ,so saying1 he 
stretched forth  his hand1 which ,i     
clasped1 and we set forth on our        
infinite journey4    ',what abysmal     
realms of space we passed ,i know not1  
for ,i was as one  bewildered by the    
swiftness of our flight and by the      
rushing beat of  the angel's pinions4 ,i
 remember that ever and anon there swam 
up  in the darkness a gleam of light    
that was at first no bigger than a      
single star1 but which1 as ,i looked1   
loomed out ever larger and larger1  and 
each moment seemed to double in         

magnitude1 until ,i trembled lest  it   
should break the bounds of the heavens2 
but even as ,i trembled1  it swept      
whirling by with a sound like that of   
infinite thunders1  and1 receding again1
 lessened before my eyes as visibly as  
it had  increased1 and finally dwindling
 to a mere point of light1 died away    
into darkness4 ,ere long1 however1 there
 appeared a flush in the distant  east1 
and as we drew nearer ,i saw that1 below
 me and afar1 there lay  a land in which
 the sun shone with such exceeding      
splendour1 that the  atmosphere1        
light-filled and luminous unto          
sparkling1 was in colour  like unto the 
colour of a rainbow4 ,and ,i saw also   
that the rays neither  dazzled nor      
scorched1 as do the rays of the earthly 
sun4 ,and far as  the eye could reach   
stretched shining hills1 seen through   
soft vistas  of purple and gold1 and    
sunny meadows wherein bloomed flowers   
beautiful  as the blush of a maiden1 and
 pure as an angel's thought4 ,and       

winding  in and out among the meadows   
ran many a rippling river2 and fountains
  also ,i saw1 the waters of which1 as  
they rose and fell scintillating  like a
 shower of starbeams or spray of        
diamonds1 discoursed music  sweeter than
 the sighing of olian harps4 ,then as ,i
 looked yet closer1  ,i saw1 wandering  
hand in hand among the meadows1 many    
white-clad  figures1 whereat my soul    
wept for gladness2 and ,i turned to the 
angel  saying1 ,surely this is that     
,heaven whereof we read and wherein ,i  
would  rest for ever8 for ,i am sore    
wearied with the toil and the labour  of
 earth4 ,but he answered me1 ,mortal1   
thou knowest not what thou  askest4     
,lift up thine eyes1 and see if thou    
beholdest aught else4    ',and ,i looked
 to the right hand and to the left1 yet 
saw ,i only the  sunny meadows and      
rivers of the land of flowers1 and the  
blue distance  of the bordering hills4  
,then ,i turned me round and gazed      
whence we  came1 but could nothing      

discern save remote plains of darkness1 
athwart  the gloom of which ,i saw flash
 ever and anon 7as one sees flash the   
eyes of a beast at midnight7 the glimmer
 of a moving world4 ,then the  angel    
stretched forth his hand1 pointing me   
yet again to the distant  east1 and far 
away beyond the beauteous realm ,i      
beheld a vast plain of  desolation1 and 
beyond that a land whereof ,i could     
nothing see1 save  that a darkness1 as  
of a twilight in which there is no moon1
 brooded  above it like a cloud4        
',whereat a shuddering horror seized me1
 so that ,i could look no more1  and    
turning to the angel1 ,i said1 ,alas6   
lieth the region of endless  night so   
nigh unto the realm of eternal day8 ,but
 he answered me  sternly1 ,mortal1 thou 
speakest that of which thou art         
ignorant4 ,come1  let us go thither1    
that thou mayest see1 and seeing1 learn4
 ,and ,i cast  a longing look upon the  
beauteous land1 and1 lo6 on the faces of
 those  who walked therein1 ,i saw a    

shadow as of something incomplete--not  
discontent1 neither sorrow nor care1 but
 the look as of an unfulfilled          
aspiration2 but1 even as ,i gazed1 the  
angel smote the air with eagle  pinion1 
and ,i beheld no more until we came nigh
 unto our journey's end4  ,then1 every  
stroke of his wing bringing us nearer1  
he turned to me1  once again bidding me 
,see1 and seeing1 learn1 but at my heart
 lay  such a nameless terror that ,i was
 as one spell-bound1 and durst not  look
 upon his face4 ,and with trembling     
voice ,i made answer1 ,suffer me  rather
 to depart1 ,i pray thee6 for ,i would  
not that mine eyes should  behold the   
horrors whereof ,i have heard1 and my   
soul longeth to return  to the land of  
flowers wherein they toil not1 neither  
sorrow1 and where  ,i shall cease from  
labour and be at rest4    ',but for the 
third time he bade me ,see1 and seeing1 
learn2 and as ,i  looked upon the land  
which lay below me1 ,i saw--instead of  
the realm  of endless night--a shining  

city of such unimaginable beauty1 that  
my  heart sank within me in breathless  
awe4 ,then the angel spread forth his   
wings still and motionless1 and we      
reposed on the azure air as a planet    
floats upon the purple bosom of night2  
and though neither sun nor moon  was set
 in the peaceful heaven1 ,i saw that    
there rested over the  city the soft    
splendour as of a world of far-off      
stars4 ,there was but  one gate1 and    
over that was written in letters of     
light1 ,my ,father  worketh hitherto1   
and ,i work1 at which ,i marvelled      
exceedingly2 and  inside the gate walked
 beings of such divine dignity and soul 
beauty  that ,i could have knelt        
worshipping before them1 were it not    
that they  too were of human form and   
feature2 and ,i saw that all were       
earnestly  but unhastily engaged in some
 manner of work1 at which they toiled   
serenely4 ,and on every forehead was set
 the seal of a high purpose1  and over  
the city there rested the calm of an    

immeasurable peace4 ,then  silently     
upstole in the sky the dawnings of a    
great light1 deep and  wide as the      
infinite of ,heaven1 and athwart the    
glory thereof there  spread the         
fore-splendours as of the approach of an
 ,awful ,presence4    ',and around me   
fell a darkness like unto midnight1 and1
 turning to me  yet again the angel     
said1 ,mortal1 thou mayest behold no    
more4 ,return  to thy home and to thy   
labour1 never more to murmur or         
complain1 and  when thou longest after  
the repose of the world to come1 know   
for a  surety that there is no rest     
either in earth or in heaven1 save in   
the  fulfilment of the work which ,god  
would have thee to do2 and so saying1   
he too passed away into the darkness1   
and--,i awoke4'    ,that is a singular  
dream1 ,i said1 although it was scarcely
 necessary  to have mentioned that your 
friend had been making a study of ,jean 
,paul4 ,but ,i suppose there really is  
work to do in ,heaven8    ,it is very   

much as it is on earth in that respect1 
she answered1  excepting that here one  
loves one's work1 and1 although here    
too1 there are alternate periods of     
labour and repose1 it would be          
difficult for some of us to say which is
 the sweeter4 ,i could tell  you which  
,i love the more1 but then all our work 
is of our ,father's  ordering1 and ,he  
knows just what is best for each of us4 
,some who  come here 7never mind my     
smile6 ,i was thinking of the 'tired    
woman'  who was 'going to do nothing for
 ever and ever'7 have to take a very    
long holiday before they are allowed to 
put hand to anything2 and  others there 
are whose first task it is to learn     
those lessons which1  through           
unfavourable circumstances or the       
accidents of their birth1  it was hardly
 to be expected they could have learned 
on earth4 ,there  are some of the       
poorest of the poor in ,east ,london1   
among whom by our  ,father's direction  
,i am now working1 who ,i believe have  

had scarcely  more opportunity of       
knowing what ,christianity means to them
 than have  the very heathen4 ,some1    
when they come here1 have to start from 
the  beginning1 so you can believe that 
for you who can write1 as well as  for  
those who can preach1 there is every    
opportunity for the exercise  of ,god's 
gifts--only remember6 she added sadly1  
but with a smile1  that the popular     
preacher of earth1 be he poet or parson1
 is not  always the man who can do most 
good in heaven1 for here one is expected
  to practise as well as to preach4     
,so you are entrusted with the task of  
ministering to certain of the  poor in  
,east ,london8 ,i said2 ,i had no idea  
that our ,father permitted  those who   
had once left the world to return to it 
again4    ,half of our work1 and more1  
is on earth1 she made answer4 ,it was to
  tell you of that that ,i pointed out  
my poet-friend1 the dreamer of  dreams1 
to you4 ,himself a poet1 he was the son 
of a poet1 who had lived  to see all    

else he loved on earth pass away before 
him2 and when this  boy1 his darling    
hope and only companion1 was also taken1
 the old man  was left lonely1 desolate 
and infirm4 ,but not so lonely as one   
might  imagine1 for his boy seldom      
leaves him1 and the work which ,god has 
set  apart for the poet-son1 and which  
is to him the resting-work of heaven1   
is to be with his father in all sorrow1 
to minister to him in all  pain1 and to 
be with him in every wakeful or weary   
moment1 his unseen  comforter and       
friend4    ,i was interested in what she
 related1 for ,i remembered that when ,i
 was  sitting one evening with the      
poet-father1 he had told me that1 for   
all his loneliness1 he was never alone4 
,no1 ,i am never lonely1 he  said1      
although you will perhaps think what ,i 
am going to tell you is  but an old     
mans' fancy4 ,a night or two after my   
dear boy died1 ,i was  thinking of my   
dead youth1 and of my dead wife1 of my  
dead friends and  my dead children1     

until it seemed to me as if ,i1 too1    
ought long since  to have been buried1  
for ,i was lingering on 7like a spectral
 moon when  the sun is high7 the living 
ghost of a vanished past4 ,the          
generation  had departed which ,i knew1 
and the one which was growing up around 
me  was too busy listening to the songs 
of its own singers to give ear to  mine4
 ,as the thought of my loneliness1 my   
loveless life1 and my boy's  newly-made 
grave1 away out in the dreary cemetery1 
came over me1 ,i did  that which was    
cowardly and faithless1 and dropped my  
head upon my  hands and wept4 ,then it  
was that there came a touch upon my arm1
 and a  voice in my ear1 and though ,i  
knew none else was in the room1 ,i was  
not  afraid1 but answered without       
looking up3 ',who is it8'    ',it is    
only ,i1 dear father1' the voice        
replied1 'only your boy4 ,you  must not 
be unhappy about me1 for though ,i have 
greatly sinned1 yet ,i  have been       
greatly forgiven1 and am perfectly1     

peacefully happy4'    ,my son then went 
on to tell me1 the old man continued1   
that for me  there was to be no more    
loneliness1 for that in all my sleepless
 nights  and sorrowful days1 he would be
 with me ever and always1 my constant   
companion and comforter1 until for me   
too the time shall come when1           
',midnight waking1 twilight weeping1    
heavy noontide--all are done4'          
99       99       99       99       99  
,that is a very touching incident1 said 
my friend1 when ,i had  related this    
conversation to her4 ,if all            
earth-dwellers were as                  
spiritually-minded as yonder poet's     
poet-father1 and were as capable  of    
apprehending how real a thing spiritual 
companionship may be1 our  dead would   
soon cease to be called our 'lost ones1'
 and death would no  longer be spoken of
 as the 'great parting4' ,death gives us
 more friends  than he takes from us1   
and often brings us nearer to those who 
have  gone before1 than we were during  

their lifetime4 ,though it is nineteen  
hundred years since our ,master1        
,christ1 trod the earth a visible       
,presence1 yet ,he is more to the world 
to-day1 and nearer to each  separate    
soul in it1 than ever ,he was to the men
 and women who touched  garments with   
,him when ,he walked the fields of      
,palestine4 ,then such  as sought ,his  
aid had often to wait ,his coming in    
weariness and  weakness of soul1 whilst 
not seldom it happened that they could  
not  obtain access to him 'because of   
the throng1' and we read even of one    
who was fain to climb a tree to catch a 
glimpse of ,him in passing4  ,now ,he   
stands by each of us1 waiting and       
willing to hear4 ,then they  had to go  
to ,him2 now ,he comes to us1 and is    
with us always and in  every place4 ,i  
tell you that ,jesus ,christ is as real 
a ,presence to-day  in the streets of   
,london or ,boston1 as ,he was in the   
homes of ,nazareth  or ,jerusalem4 ,he  
is as near to us now as ,he was to      

,martha and to ,mary1  and is as willing
 to help and hear you or me1 as ,he was 
to heal the  sick1 or to pardon the     
dying thief2 and then in a low1 sweet   
voice she  repeated the following lines 
from ,whittier's poem1 ,our ,master3--  
,but warm1 sweet1 tender1 even yet      
,a present help is ,he2    ,and faith   
has still its ,olivet1      ,and love   
its ,galilee4      ,the healing of ,his 
seamless dress      ,is by our beds of  
pain2    ,we touch ,him in life's throng
 and press1      ,and we are whole      
again4      ,through ,him the first fond
 prayers are said1      ,our lips of    
childhood frame1    ,the last low       
whispers of our dead      ,are burdened 
with ,his name4    ,the thought that the
 'last low whispers' of the loved ones  
who have  left us were 'burdened' with  
the ,name which we first learned to lisp
  at our mother's knee is a very tender 
and beautiful one1 she said  reverently1
 after a moment's silence4 ,we seem to  
see our own fathers  and mothers1 and   

their fathers and mothers1 linked to    
ourselves1 and  through us to our       
children and our children's children1   
until all the  generations of the       
world--past1 present1 and future--become
 as one  family in a great bond of      
fellowship1 even as all the joy and     
sorrow of  humanity find one common home
 in the heart of the ,lord ,christ who  
loves  us4    ,i am not sure that ,i    
realize this love of ,his of which you  
speak1 ,i  said sadly4 ,it is so vague  
and vast that ,i become lost1 and feel  
that  ,i have no personal hold upon it4 
,how can ,he love the whole world1 and  
yet love each separate individual in it 
with an affection as distinct  as that  
which ,i feel for my wife and children8 
,you cannot realize it as existing in   
yourself1 she made answer1  although    
even you love all your children1 and yet
 love each one of  them with a distinct 
and personal love2 but then you cannot  
order the  succession of the seasons1 or
 stay a planet upon its course1 and you 

might just as well try to measure ,god's
 power by your power1 as try to         
apprehend the love which passeth        
understanding by likening it to your    
own4 ,but you will know what ,christ is 
to us one day4    ,tell me more of ,him1
 ,i whispered eagerly2 tell me more of  
,him4 ,did  you love ,him as earnestly  
and believe in ,him as trustfully when  
you  were on earth as you do now8       
,not always1 she answered sadly1 not    
always 7and1 oh6 it was such  'cold     
comfort'--the talk of the ,pantheists   
and the ,deists to whom  ,i had gone71  
but ,i came at last to see that the     
,cross of ,christ is  humanity's only   
hope4 ,i came1 too1 to think that ,i    
could better bear  to disbelieve in a   
,god at all than to disbelieve in the   
,saviour4 ',by  ,atheism1' ,i said to   
myself1 ',i lose only a ,deity of whom  
7excepting  for the gospel-revelation7  
,i know practically nothing1 but in     
losing  ,christ ,i lose all--this       
world's hope as well as the next's4'    

,there is  not a creed which has been   
offered us during the last eighteen     
hundred  years as a substitute for faith
 in the ,saviour which does not take the
  very basis of its being from          
,christianity4    ,yes1 ,i said2 but    
many people will tell you that          
,christianity is  nothing more than a   
skilfully-framed fable1 cunningly       
devised to adapt  itself to our human   
needs4    ,christ was1 and ,christianity
 was before humanity or its needs came  
into being1 she made answer2 and the    
sacrifice of the ,cross was no          
afterthought given as a concession to   
our human requirements4 ,on the         
contrary1 our human requirements were   
given us that we1 through them1  might  
come by way of ,calvary to the feet of  
,christ2 and it is because  it has been 
,god's purpose from all eternity to save
 the sinner by the  sacrifice of        
,himself that you and ,i feel our need  
of a ,saviour4    ,yes1 ,i said1 ,i do  
indeed feel that whatever help comes to 

me must be  something outside myself1   
and that no sorrowing of mine can atone 
for  the past2 but ,i feel also that ,i1
 and ,i only1 am responsible for what ,i
  have done1 and that to lay that       
responsibility upon another is utterly  
inadequate to satisfy even my limited   
sense of justice--besides which  ,i     
never can and never will believe in the 
possibility of the innocent  being      
allowed to suffer for the guilty4       
,but the innocent do suffer for the     
guilty1 she said1 even in the  very     
earth-world1 by the laws of which you   
wish to judge the heavenly  one4 ,you   
profess yourself willing to abide by the
 evidence of your  senses1 and if you   
will only look back upon the earth-life 
which you  have left1 you will see that 
the sins of the fathers are visited upon
  the children1 and that the innocent   
are suffering for the guilty every  day1
 and that ,god1 for some good reason of 
,his own1 allows it to be so4  ,as for  
what you say about your sense of        

justice1 ,i agree with you that  if a   
man run into your debt--run into your   
debt by wilful and wicked  courses--he  
must be held answerable for the         
repayment of the money4  ,but supposing 
one comes forward who loves him1 and who
 has watched his  sinnings with sorrow1 
and says1 ',i will pay for my friend    
that which he  cannot pay for himself1' 
would not your sense of justice be      
satisfied8    ,even then the moral      
obligation remains1 ,i objected4        
,yes1 but that obligation has been      
transferred1 she said1 although  as a   
matter of fact1 it is against ,god      
rather than against man1 that  our      
blackest sins are committed4 ,but1      
independently of that side of  the      
question1 ,christ has taken the         
consequences of your sin1 and of  the   
wrong you did ,dorothy--the consequences
 to her1 as well as to  yourself--upon  
,himself1 and has suffered for you and  
for her in ,his own  person1 and if ,he 
be willing to forgive1 then are you     

forgiven indeed6    ,that reconciliation
 by the ,saviour should at any time have
 been to  me an intellectual            
stumbling-block is now beyond my        
comprehension1  she continued earnestly4
 ,in its very adaptability to our human 
needs1  ,christianity bears the stamp of
 its divine origin4 ,left to himself1   
the  very best of us must feel his      
inability either to atone for the evil  
he has already done1 or to withstand the
 temptations which yet await  him in the
 future1 and though he struggle right   
manfully to clamber  out of the gulf    
into which he has fallen1 the           
dead-weight of his sins1  which he      
carries and must carry chained log-like 
about him1 is ever the  heaviest clog to
 drag him back4 ,but ,christianity does 
more for a man  than merely forgive him 
his debts4 ,it sets the bankrupt upon   
his legs  again1 a solvent man and sane1
 with a clean bill of health1 and with  
a fresh start in life4 ,it is the       
religion of ,hope1 for none is too      

sinful for the ,saviour to save1 and to 
the man who brings his sins1  as well as
 his inability to resist his sins1 to   
the feet of ,christ1  there is indeed a 
present ,help and ,hope in all his      
troubles6 ,there is  much--very much--in
 ,christianity that ,i cannot and do not
 pretend to  understand1 but ,i can     
understand enough to make me very loving
 and  very trustful4 ,the only mystery  
which still sometimes troubles me is    
that most terrible of all mysteries--the
 mystery of human suffering4  ,but even 
that ,i am content to leave1 for is not 
our ,god ,himself a  suffering ,god8 and
 who that witnessed the sufferings of   
,jesus ,christ  7and what sufferings    
were ever like to ,his87 could have     
foreseen that  the cruel ,cross whereon 
,he hung should hereafter be the        
finger-post  to point the way to heaven8
 or that beneath ,his cry of agony in   
the  garden1 ,god heard the triumph-song
 of a ransomed world8    ,illustration  
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,xiv4 

,,hope4      ,at last there came a time1
 even in hell1 when the burden of my sin
 lay  so heavily upon me1 that ,i felt  
,i could bear it no longer1 and that if 
succour there came none1 the very soul  
of me must wither away and die4  ,it was
 not that ,i wanted to evade the        
punishment of my crime1 for ,i  was     
willing and wished to undergo it to the 
uttermost4 ,no1 that which  was so      
terrible to me was the thought that not 
all the sufferings of  eternity could   
avail to wipe away the awful stain upon 
my spirit1 or  to undo the evil which ,i
 had brought upon the woman ,i had      
ruined4 ,of  myself and of my future1   
save for the continual crying-out of my 
soul  after its lost purity1 ,i scarcely
 cared now to think4 ,it was of ,dorothy
  that my heart was full2 it was for    
,dorothy that ,i never ceased to        
sorrow1 to lament1 and--sinner1 though  
,i was--to pray4 ,i saw then the        
inevitable consequences of the wrong ,i 
had done her pictured forth in  all     

their horror4 ,i saw her1 with the sense
 of her sin as yet but fresh  upon her1 
shrinking from every glance1 and        
fancying that she read the  knowledge of
 her guilt in every eye4 ,i saw her1 not
 knowing where to  turn for refuge from 
swiftly-advancing shame1 and            
understanding no more  of this life of  
ours than a foolish lost lamb wandering 
farther and  farther in the nightfall1  
stealing stealthily forth at dusk to    
hide  herself from her fellow-creatures4
    ,i saw her1 when the secret of her  
shame could no longer be concealed1     
recoiling in mute terror from the glance
 of coarse admiration on the  faces of  
sensual men1 or shrinking in quivering  
agony from the look  of curious scorn in
 the eyes of maids and mothers1 who drew
 aside  their skirts as she passed them1
 as if fearful of being contaminated  by
 her touch4 ,and then--driven out from  
their midst by the very  ,christian     
women who should have been the first to 
have held out a hand  to save her--,i   

saw her turn away with a heart hardened 
into brazen  indifference1 and plunge   
headlong into a bottomless gulf of      
ignominy  and sin4    ,nor did the      
vision pass from me until1 out of that  
seething vortex  of lust and infamy1 ,i 
saw arise the black phantom of an       
immortal  soul which was lost for ever1 
crying out unto ,god and ,his ,christ   
for  judgment upon the seducer6         
99       99       99       99       99  
,as these hideous spectres of the past  
arose again before me1 ,i fell to  the  
ground1 and shrieked out under the      
burden of my sin1 as only he can  shriek
 who is torn by hell-torture and        
despair4 ,but even as ,i shrieked1  ,i  
felt that burden lifted and borne away  
from me1 and then ,i saw1 as in  a      
vision1 ,one kneeling in prayer4 ,and   
,i1 who had cried out that ,i could     
bear the burden of my sin no longer1 saw
 that upon ,him was laid1 not  only my  
sin1 but the sins of the whole world1   
and that ,he stooped of  ,his own accord

 to receive them4 ,and as ,i looked upon
 the ,divine dignity  of that agonized  
form--forsaken of ,his ,father that we  
might never be  forsaken1 and bowed down
 under a burden1 compared to which1 all 
the  horrors of hell were but as the    
passing phantom of a pain--,i saw great 
beads of blood break out like sweat upon
 ,his brow1 and ,i heard wrung  from    
,him a cry of such unutterable anguish  
as never before rose from  human lips4  
,and at that cry the vision passed1 and 
,i awoke to find  myself in hell once   
more1 but in my heart there was a       
stirring as of  the wings of hope--the  
hope which ,i had deemed dead to me for 
ever4    ,could it be--,o ,god of mercy6
 was it possible that even now it might 
not be too late8--that there was indeed 
,one who could make my sin as  though it
 had never been8--who of ,his great love
 for ,dorothy and for  me1 would bear it
 and its consequences as ,his own       
burden8 and who by  the cleansing power 
of the blood which ,he had shed upon the

 cross1  could wash her soul and mine   
whiter than the whiteness of snow8      
,but to this hope there succeeded a     
moment when the agonized thought3  ,how 
if there be no ,christ8 leapt out at me1
 like the darkness which  looms but the 
blacker for the lightning-flash2 a      
moment when hell gat  hold on me again1 
and a thousand gibbering devils arose to
 shriek in my  ear3 ,and though there be
 a ,christ1 is it not now too late8     
,i reeled at that cry1 and the darkness 
seemed once more to close in  around4 ,a
 horde of hideous thoughts1 the very    
spawn of hell1 swarmed  like vermin in  
my mind2 there was the breath as of a   
host of contending  fiends upon my face2
 a hundred hungry hands laid hold on me1
 and strove  to drag me down and down as
 to a bottomless pit2 but with a great  
cry  to ,god1 ,i flung the foul things  
from me2 and battling1 beating1 like a  
drowning man for breath1 ,i fell at the 
feet of a woman1 white-veiled1  and clad
 in robes like the morning1 whose hand  

it was that had plucked  me from the    
abyss in which ,i lay4    ,illustration 
,illustration          ,,chapter ,,xv4  
,,heaven4      ,it seemed to me then    
that ,i fell into a sleep1 deep1 and    
sweet1 and  restful1 in which ,i dreamt 
that ,i was a child lying upon the bosom
 of  ,god4 ,i remember that1 as ,i lay1 
,i stirred in my slumber1 and1 raising  
myself1 chanced in opening my eyes to   
look below1 but that with a  cry of     
terror ,i turned and clung like a       
frighted babe to my ,father's           
breast1--for beneath me and afar1 there 
yet yawned the mouth of hell1  from     
which1 ever and anon1 rolled dense      
clouds of hot and hissing  smoke1 that  
seemed to twist and writhe like souls in
 agony1 and which  in colour were like  
unto the colour of blood4    ,and ,i    
thought that1 seeing my fear1 my ,father
 stooped to me as a mother  stoops to   
comfort her frightened babe1 and that as
 ,he stooped ,i beheld  ,his face1 and  
knew it for the face of the ,lord       

,jesus1 and that ,he bade  me be of good
 cheer1 for underneath thee are the     
everlasting arms4    ,as ,he so spake ,i
 awoke1 and saw that she whose hand had 
plucked me out  of the abyss of horror  
into which ,i had fallen1 yet knelt     
beside me in  tender ministry and       
prayer1 and that she was singing a hymn 
softly to  herself whereof ,i heard only
 a verse3--      ,i know not where ,his 
islands lift      ,their fronded palms  
in air2    ,i only know ,i cannot drift 
,beyond ,his love and care4    ,she     
ceased1 and ,i arose1 but ere ,i had    
time to question her1 ,i  was conscious 
of a sudden stillness1 like the hush    
which follows  benediction after prayer4
 ,don't you hear it8 she whispered      
eagerly1  as with upraised hand         
enjoining silence1 she turned her head  
as if to  catch some far-off murmur1    
,don't you hear it8 ,they are praying   
for you  at home3 kneel down6 ,and as   
her words died away1 there seemed to    
float  towards me the sound of air-borne

 music that stayed for one moment  to   
fold me round with the sweet            
consolations of loving companionship    
and of peace1 and in the next stole     
swiftly and softly away as if           
journeying onward and upward to the     
throne of ,god4    ,and with a great cry
 of anguish ,i fell to my knees and     
prayed3 ,o ,lord  ,christ6 ,i am foul   
and selfish and sinful6 ,i do not know  
that ,i love  ,thee6 ,i do not know that
 ,i have repented of my sins even6 ,i   
only know  that ,i cannot do the things 
,i would do1 and that ,i can never undo 
the  evil ,i have done4 ,but ,i come to 
,thee1 ,lord ,jesus1 ,i come to ,thee as
  ,thou biddest me4 ,send me not away1  
,o ,saviour of sinners4 ,amen4    ,as ,i
 ended1 it seemed that my companion     
turned to leave me1 and ,i fell  to     
sobbing and sorrowing1 until at last for
 very anguish ,i could sob  no more4    
,but soon ,i heard again her returning  
footsteps1 and1 looking  up1 ,i saw ,one
 who stood beside her1 thorn-crowned1   

and clad in robes of  white4 ,his       
features were the features of a man1 but
 ,his face was the  face of ,god6       
,and as ,i looked upon that face1 ,i    
shrank back dazed and breathless  and   
blinded2--shrank back with a cry like   
the cry of one smitten of  the          
lightning2 for beneath the wide white   
brow there shone out eyes1  before the  
awful purity of which my sin-stained    
soul seemed to scorch  and shrivel like 
a scroll in a furnace4 ,but as ,i lay1  
lo6 there came a  tender touch upon my  
head1 and a voice in my ear that        
whispered1 ,son4    ,and as the word    
died away into a silence like the       
hallowed hush  of listening angels1 and 
,i stretched forth my arms with a cry of
  unutterable longing and love1 ,i saw  
that ,he held one by the hand--even  she
 who had plucked me out of the abyss    
into which ,i had fallen--and ,i  saw   
that she was no longer veiled4 ,it was  
,dorothy--,dorothy whom ,he had  of ,his
 infinite love sought out and saved from

 the shame to which my  sin had         
consigned her1 and whom ,he had sent to 
succour me1 that so ,he  might set upon 
my soul the seal of ,his pardon and of  
,his peace4 ,and to  ,him be the praise4
 ,amen4    ,illustration3 ,,the ,,end4  
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intermittent as to lose the advantage of
 regularity1 enables readers to  add to 
their library at an almost imperceptible
 cost4 ,thus for about  one pound a     
year1 every man may form a library which
 will afford an  ever-increasing source 
of gratification and cultivation to     
himself and  his family4 ,there will be 
no doubt1 as in buying the novelties of 
the  day1 as to whether the new volume  
will prove to be of permanent value  and
 interest4 ,it will have already stood  
the test of time and of good  critics1  
though frequently it may have been      
unattainable except at a  heavy cost4   
,the ,minerva ,library will only include
 works of widespread  popularity1 which 
have proved themselves worthy of a      
permanent place in  literature4         
,variety will be studied in the         

selection of books1 so that all classes 
of the best literature of all nations   
may be represented4 ,the adoption  of   
the name ,minerva will be justified by  
the abundant wisdom1  thought1 and      
imaginative and inventive power which   
the books will be  found to contain4    
,each volume contains an introduction by
 the ,editor1 in which a  biography of  
the author1 or critical or explanatory  
notes1 place the  reader in sympathy    
with the author and his work4 ,in some  
of the books  additional elucidations   
and illustrations of the text are given1
 and in  others side-notes indicate the 
subjects of the paragraphs4    ,the     
number of separate ,plates as well as   
illustrations in the text  forms a      
marked feature of the series4 ,as far as
 possible an authentic  portrait of     
every author will be given4 ,an         
inspection of the books only  is needed 
to make their attractiveness evident4   
,every ,englishman who reads and thinks1
 and wishes to possess the ,,best       

,,books1 should have every book in the  
,minerva library4    ,the ,youth        
beginning to form a ,library of books   
for lifelong  companionship cannot do   
better than subscribe to the ,minerva   
,library4    ,schools1 ,mechanics1 and  
,village ,libraries1 and literary       
institutions of  all kinds1 should      
provide themselves with a number of     
copies of this  inexpensive library of  
indispensable books4    ,the ,artisan   
and the ,shop-assistant will find their 
means and  opportunities consulted in   
this series4 ,they cannot buy the best  
books  in the ,english language in a    
better and cheaper form combined4       
,naturally every ,englishman wants to   
possess the choice works of the         
greatest ,englishmen2 and to complete   
his ideas as a citizen of the  world1 he
 needs a selection of the greatest      
writings of the geniuses  of other      
countries4 ,both these wants it is the  
object of the ,minerva  ,library to     
supply4      ,,volume ,i4--,,eighth     

,,edition4     ,,charles ,,darwin',s    
,,journal ,during the ,voyage of        
,h4,m4,s4 ,beagle ,round   the ,world4  
,with a ,biographical ,introduction by  
the ,editor1 ,portrait of   ,darwin1 and
 ,illustrations4    ',the ,minerva      
,library1' the new venture of ,messrs4  
,ward  ,lock1 has  made an excellent    
start4444 ,no better volumes could be   
chosen for  popular reading of a healthy
 sort than ',darwin's ,journal of       
,researches  during the ,voyage of the  
,beagle1' and ',borrow's ,bible in      
,spain4' ,the  paper is good1 the type  
is tolerable1 the binding is in         
excellent  taste1 and the price is      
extremely low4--,athenum4      ,,volume 
,,ii4--,,fourth ,,edition4     ,,the    
,,ingoldsby ,,legends4 ,with a ,critical
 ,introduction by the ,editor1          
,portrait of the ,author1 and           
reproductions of the celebrated         
,illustrations by ,phiz and ,cruikshank4
    ,this series1 which is edited by    
,mr4 ,g4,t4 ,bettany1 is neatly bound1  

well illustrated1 and nicely            
printed4--,graphic4    ,the             
determination of the publishers of the  
',minerva ,library' to  render the      
series attractive and representative of 
,english literature  of all kinds1 is   
strikingly displayed in this volume4444 
,the book is  well printed and bound1   
and will be eagerly welcomed by all     
desiring  to obtain at a small cost a   
good edition of the works of the famous 
humourist4--,liverpool ,courier4        
,,volume ,,iii4--,,third ,,edition4     
,,borrow',s ,,bible ,,in ,,spain3 ,the  
,journeys1 ,adventures1 and             
,imprisonments   of an ,englishman1 in  
an attempt to circulate the ,scriptures 
in the   ,peninsula4 ,by ,george        
,borrow1 ,author of ,the ,gipsies of    
,spain4 ,with a   ,biographical         
,introduction by the ,editor1 and       
,illustrations4    ,lovers of good      
literature and cheap may be commended to
 the ',minerva  ,library' edition of    
',the ,bible in ,spain1' edited by ,mr4 

,g4,t4 ,bettany4  ,this is an excellent 
reprint1 with neat binding1 good type1  
and fair  woodcuts4--,saturday ,review4 
,,volume ,,iv4--,,fourth ,,edition4     
,,emerson',s ,,prose ,,works3 ,the      
complete ,prose ,works of ,ralph ,waldo 
,emerson4 ,with a ,critical             
,introduction by the ,editor1 and       
,portrait of   the ,author4    ,the     
series1 judging by the initial volumes1 
will be endowed with  everything that   
makes reading pleasant and agreeable4444
 ,the printing  is a marvel of          
clearness1 the slurs that too often     
characterise  cheap volumes being       
conspicuous by their absence4444 ,the   
binding is  both elegant and durable4444
 ,if the excellence of the first volumes
  is maintained in the future1 the      
series will enjoy a success both        
widespread and prolonged4--,city ,press4
      ,,volume ,v4--,,third ,,edition4  
,,galton',s ,,south ,,africa3 ,the      
,narrative of an ,explorer in ,tropical 
,south ,africa3 being an ,account of a  

,visit to ,damaraland in #ahea4 ,by     
,francis ,galton1 ,f4,r4,s4 ,with a ,new
 ,map and ,appendix1 together with a    
,biographical ,introduction by the      
,editor1 ,portrait of ,mr4 ,galton1 and 
,illustrations4 ,containing also        
,vacation ,tours in #ahfj and #ahfa1 by 
,sir   ,george ,grove1 ,francis ,galton1
 ,f4,r4,s41 and ,w4,g4 ,clark1 ,m4,a4   
,be it understood the ',minerva         
,library' presents itself in a form     
that even the lover of luxurious books  
could scarcely find fault               
with4--,warrington ,guardian4    ,the   
',minerva ,library' will be hailed with 
delight1 we are sure1 by all            
readers4--,the ,weekly ,times4          
,,volume ,,vi4--,,third ,,edition4      
,,the ,,betrothed ,,lovers 7,i ,promessi
 ,sposi74 ,by ,alessandro ,manzoni4     
,with a   ,biographical ,introduction by
 the ,editor1 and ,portrait of the      
,author4    ,of this great ,work ,goethe
 wrote3--,manzoni's romance transcends  
all  that we have knowledge of in this  

kind4 ,i need only say that the         
internal part1 all that comes from the  
core of the poet1 is thoroughly         
perfect1 and that the external part1 all
 the notes of localities and  so forth1 
is not a whit behind its great inner    
qualities4444 ,the work  gives us the   
pleasure of an absolutely ripe fruit4   
,,volume ,,vii4--,,third ,,edition4     
,,goethe',s ,,faust 7,complete74        
,translated in the ,original ,metres1   
with   copious ,critical and            
,explanatory ,notes by ,bayard ,taylor4 
,with a   ,critical ,introduction by the
 ,editor1 ,portrait of ,goethe1 and     
,retzsch's   ,illustrations4    ,this is
 a full and complete reprint of ,bayard 
,taylor's unrivalled  rendering of      
,goethe's masterpiece4 ,it is published 
by special  arrangement with ,mrs4      
,bayard ,taylor1 and contains the whole 
of the  ,translator's copious and       
extremely valuable ,notes1              
,introductions1 and  ,appendices4       
,,volume ,,viii4--,,second ,,edition4   

,,wallace',s ,,travels ,,on ,,the       
,,amazon3 ,travels on the ,amazon and   
,rio   ,negro4 ,by ,alfred ,russel      
,wallace1 ,author of ,the ,malay        
,archipelago1   ,darwinism1 etc4 ,giving
 an account of the ,native ,tribes1 and 
,observations on the ,climate1 ,geology1
 and ,natural ,history of the   ,amazon 
,valley4 ,with a ,biographical          
,introduction1 ,portrait of the         
,author1 and ,illustrations4    ,it     
would be impossible to overrate the     
service which ,mr4 ,wallace1 the        
co-discoverer of ,darwinism1 has        
done4--,times1 ,september #aath1 #ahhi4 
,,volume ,,ix4--,,third ,,edition4      
,,dean ,,stanley',s ,,life ,,of ,,dr4   
,,arnold4 ,the ,life and ,correspondence
 of   ,thomas ,arnold1 ,d4,d4           
7,head-,master of ,rugby ,school74 ,by  
,arthur ,penrhyn   ,stanley1 ,d4,d41    
,dean of ,westminster4 ,with a ,portrait
 of ,arnold1 and   ,full ,page          
,illustrations4    ,one of the most     
remarkable and most instructive books   

ever  published--a book for which       
,arnold himself left abundant materials 
in his voluminous correspondence1       
supplemented by a large quantity  of    
miscellaneous matter added by his friend
 and former pupil1 ,dean                
,stanley4--,morning ,advertiser4        
,,volume ,x4--,,second ,,edition4       
,,poe',s ,,tales ,,of ,,adventure1      
,,mystery1 ,,and ,,imagination4 ,by     
,edgar ,allan   ,poe4 ,with a           
,biographical ,introduction by the      
,editor1 ,portrait of the   ,author1 and
 ,illustrations4    ,contains over forty
 of ,poe's marvellous stories1 certainly
 among the  most exciting and           
sensational tales ever written4 ,the    
volume itself is  a marvel1 comprising1 
as it does1 over #efj pages1 strongly   
and neatly  bound1 for two              
shillings4--,newcastle ,chronicle4      
,,volume ,,xi4     ,,comedies ,,by      
,,moli,,re3 ,including ,the ,would-,be  
,gentleman2 ,the ,affected   ,young     
,ladies2 ,the ,forced ,marriage2 ,the   

,doctor by ,compulsion2   ,scapin's     
,rogueries2 ,the ,blunderer2 ,the       
,school for ,husbands2 ,the   ,school   
for ,wives2 ,the ,miser2 ,the           
,hypochondriac2 ,the ,misanthrope2      
,the ,blue-,stockings2 ,tartuffe1 or the
 ,hypocrite4 ,newly ,translated by      
,charles ,mathew1 ,m4,a4 ,the           
,translation revised by the ,editor1    
with a   ,portrait of the ,author1 and  
,biographical ,introduction4            
,,volume ,,xii4     ,,forster',s ,,life 
,,of ,,goldsmith3 ,the ,life and ,times 
of ,oliver ,goldsmith4   ,by ,john      
,forster1 ,author of ,the ,life of      
,charles ,dickens1 etc4 ,with   a       
,biography of ,forster by the ,editor1  
and ,numerous ,illustrations by         
,maclise1 ,stanfield1 ,leech1 and       
,others4      ,,volume ,,xiii4          
,,lane',s ,,modern ,,egyptians3 ,the    
,manners and ,customs of the ,modern    
,egyptians4 ,by ,edward ,william ,lane1 
,translator of ,the ,arabian ,nights'   
,entertainments4 ,with a ,biographical  

,introduction by the ,editor1   ,sixteen
 ,full ,page ,plates1 and ,eighty       
,illustrations in the ,text4            
,,volume ,,xiv4     ,,torrens' ,,life   
,,of ,,lord ,,melbourne3 ,memoirs of    
,william ,lamb1 ,second   ,viscount     
,melbourne4 ,by ,w4,m4 ,torrens4        
,revised by the ,author4 ,with an       
,introduction by the ,editor1 and       
,portrait of ,melbourne4      ,,volume  
,,xv4     ,,thackeray',s ,,vanity       
,,fair3 ,a ,novel ,without a ,hero4 ,by 
,william ,makepeace   ,thackeray4 ,with 
a ,biographical ,introduction by the    
,editor1 ,portrait of   the ,author1 and
 ,thirteen ,full-,page ,illustrations4  
,,ward1 ,,lock  ,,co41 ,london1 ,new    
,york1 and ,melbourne4    ,and at all   
,booksellers' and ,railway ,bookstalls4 
,,standard ,,works ,,by ,,great         
,,writers4    ,,the ,,world ,,library   
,,of ,,standard ,,books4    ,a ,series  
of ,standard ,works1 including many of  
the acknowledged  ,masterpieces of      
,historical and ,critical ,literature1  

made more  accessible than hitherto to  
the general reader by publication in a  
cheap form and at a moderate price4     
,crown #hvo1 cloth gilt or buckram1     
label on back1 uncut edges4           #a
 ,hallam's ,constitutional ,history of  
,england4 ,with ,lord ,macaulay's       
,essay on the same4 #igj pp41 #es4      
,library ,edition1 demy #hvo1 #gs4      
#f;d42 half-calf1 #abs4       #b        
,hallam's ,europe during the ,middle    
,ages4 ,by the ,author of ,the          
,constitutional ,history of ,england4   
#gbj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4 ,library           
,edition1 #hid pp41 demy #hvo1 #fs42    
half-calf1 #ajs4 #f;d4       #c         
,hallam's ,church and ,state4 ,by the   
,author of ,the ,constitutional         
,history of ,england4 #djj pp41 #bs4    
#f;d4       #d ,the ,wealth of ,nations 
7,inquiry into the ,nature and ,causes  
of74 ,by   ,adam ,smith4 #hcb pp41 #cs4 
#f;d42 half-calf1 #gs4 #f;d4 ,library   
,edition1   demy #hvo4 #fs42 half-calf1 
#ajs4 #f;d4       #f ,m',culloch's      

,works3 ,principles of ,political       
,economy1 ,notes1 c41 to   ,smith's     
,wealth of ,nations1 c4 #gjj pp41 #cs4  
#f;d4       #g ,adam ,smith's ,essays3  
,moral ,sentiments1 ,astronomy1         
,physics1 c4 #dgf   pp41 #cs4 #f;d4     
#h ,hume's ,history of ,england4 ,in    
,three ,vols4 #b1bdj pp41 #ajs4 #f;d4   
,library ,edition1 demy #hvo1 #ahs42    
half-calf1 #cas4 #f;d4       #i ,hume's 
,essays3 ,literary1 ,moral1 and         
,political4 #cs4 #f;d4     #aj          
,montaigne's ,essays4 ,complete4 #fhd   
pp41 #cs4 #f;d42 half-calf1 #gs4   #f;d4
 ,library ,edition1 #ibj pp41 #fs42     
hf4-calf1 #ajs4 #f;d4       #aa         
,warton's ,history of ,english ,poetry1 
from the ,eleventh to the   ,seventeenth
 ,century4 #a1jcb pp41 #fs4       #ab   
,the ,court and ,times of ,queen        
,elizabeth4 ,by ,lucy ,aikin4 #ecj pp41 
#cs4 #f;d4       #ac ,edmund ,burke's   
,choice ,pieces4 ,containing the ,speech
 on the ,law   of ,libel1 ,reflections  
on ,revolution in ,france1 on the       

,sublime and   ,beautiful1 ,abridgment  
of ,english ,history4 #cs4 #f;d4        
#ad ,herbert's ,autobiography and       
,history of ,england under ,henry       
,,viii4 ,by   ,lord ,herbert of         
,cherbury4 #ggj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4         
#ae ,walpole's ,anecdotes of ,painting  
in ,england4 ,by ,horace ,walpole4 #ech 
pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #ag ,locke's      
,essays3 ,on ,toleration1 ,education1   
,value of ,money4 #gjj pp41   #cs4 #f;d4
       #ah ,bolingbroke on the ,study   
and ,use of ,history4 #cs4 #f;d4        
#ai ,essays on ,beauty and ,taste3 ,on  
,beauty1 by ,francis1 ,lord ,jeffrey2   
,on   ,taste1 by ,archibald ,alison1    
,,ll4,d4 #cbd pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #bj 
,milton's ,early ,britain4 ,with ,more's
 ,england under ,richard ,,iii41 and    
,bacon's ,england under ,henry ,,viii41 
#dcj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #ba          
,marvell's ,poems and ,satires4 ,with   
,memoir of the ,author4 #cs4 #f;d4      
#bb ,macaulay3 ,reviews1 ,essays1 and   
,poems4 #fej pp41 #cs4 #f;d42           

half-calf1 #fs4 ,library ,edition1 demy 
#hvo1 #fs4       #bc ,sydney ,smith's   
,essays1 ,social and ,political4 #cs4   
#f;d42 ,library   ,edition1 demy #hvo1  
#fs4       #bd ,lord ,bacon4            
,proficience and ,advancement of        
,learning1 ,historical   ,sketches and  
,essays4 #ecj pp41 #cs4 #f;d42          
half-calf1 #fs42 ,library   ,edition1   
demy #hvo1 #fs4       #be ,essays by    
,thomas de ,quincey4 ,confessions of an 
,opium ,eater1 ,letters   to a ,young   
,man1 c4 #eej pp41 #cs4 #f;d42 ,library 
,edition1 demy #hvo1   #fs4       #bf   
,josephus 7,the ,complete ,works of74   
,by ,whiston4 ,life and ,marginal       
,notes4 #haj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4 ,library   
,edition1 #fs4       #bg ,paley's       
,works3 ,the ,evidences of              
,christianity1 ,hor ,paulin1 and        
,natural ,theology4 ,with ,life and     
,notes4 #cs4 #f;d4       #bh ,taylor's  
,holy ,living and ,dying4 ,with ,life1  
,introduction1 and ,notes4   #bs4 #f;d4 
#bi ,dean ,milman's ,history of the     

,jews4 #ebj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #cj   
,macaulay3 ,reviews and ,essays4 ,second
 ,series4 #bs4 #f;d4       #ca ,locke on
 the ,human ,understanding4 #fgj pp41   
#cs4 #f;d42 half-calf1   #gs4 #f;d4     
#cb ,plutarch's ,lives4 ,by ,langhorne4 
#gej pp41 #cs4 #f;d42 half-calf1 #gs4   
#f;d4       #cc ,addison's ,essays from 
,spectator4 #fjj pp41 #cs4 #f;d4        
#cd ,shakespere's ,complete ,works4     
,with ,life and ,glossary4 #a1jjj pp41  
#cs4 #f;d4 ,library ,edition1 #fs4      
#ce ,cook's ,boston ,monday ,lectures4  
#fdj pp41 #es4       #cf ,todd's        
,complete ,works4 ,sunday ,school       
,teacher1 ,lectures for ,young   ,men1  
c4 #ibj pp41 #es4       #cg             
,d',aubigne's ,history of the           
,reformation4 #hgj pp41 #cs4 #f;d42     
half-calf1 #gs4 #f;d4       #ch ,the    
,arabian ,nights' ,entertainments4 #dcj 
pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #ci ,heroes for   
the ,faith3 ,scottish ,worthies who     
suffered during the   ,reformation4 #cs4
 #f;d4       #dj ,martyrs for the       

,truth4 ,last ,words and ,dying         
,testimonies of the   ,scottish         
,worthies4 ,revised1 with ,notes4 #cs4  
#f;d4       #da ,cook's ,boston ,monday 
,lectures4 #ast ,series4 #cdj pp41 #bs4 
#f;d4       #db ,cook's ,boston ,monday 
,lectures4 #bnd ,series4 #cjj pp41 #bs4 
#f;d4       #dc ,newman ,smyth's ,works4
 ,containing ,old ,faiths in ,new       
,light1 ,the   ,religious ,feeling1 and 
,orthodox ,theology4 #cs4 #f;d4         
#dd ,hallam's ,literature of ,europe    
during the #aeth1 #afth1 and #agth      
,centuries4 ,complete4 #ijj pp41 #es4   
#de ,lamb's ,essays of ,elia and        
,eliana4 #hej pp41 #cs4 #f;d4       #df 
,history of ,rome4 ,by ,d4 ,rose4       
,edited by ,h4,w4 ,dulcken1 ,ph4,d4 #ejj
 pp41   #cs4 #f;d4       #dg ,history of
 ,greece4 ,by ,d4 ,rose4 ,edited by     
,h4,w4 ,dulcken1 ,ph4,d4 #dhj   pp41    
#cs4 #f;d4       #dh ,palgrave's        
,history of the ,anglo-,saxons4 #bs4    
#f;d4      ,,ward1 ,,lock  ,,co41       
,london1 ,melbourne1 and ,new ,york4