“One of the conditions of this communion has been, that we must receive it through strangers.  This robs it of its sacredness to me.”

“You will never have that feeling after having once felt her presence through another.  You will feel the blending of humanity more sensibly, and see how we are all conjoined, that there is very little that is yours or mine exclusively; yet we hold all things, and all hearts that inspire us.  Human souls belong to God and humanity.  It follows not, because one is near us, blessing us with her daily presence, that she is ours, wholly.  She belongs to humanity, and becomes ours through dissemination.  It is like a truth which we give unto others; it is more within us, the more we give it forth.  Whatever thrills me with joy, is far more to me when I have told it to a multitude.  It is the same with those we love; the more humanity claims them, the greater they are to mankind, the more they become to us.  Florence was more to you, because she was beloved by Dawn and myself.  If she was much to you here, how full and replete with love will be her ministration to you now.  Her immortal spirit is with you each hour, and will act on you through all time.  When you know that she is with you, you will feel the thrill of her joy, and your hours will be greatly relieved of their present loneliness.  It is strange that for so many years we have laid our friends in the tomb and sat sorrowing at its door.  But Spiritualism has rolled away the stone, as the angel did of old.  It comes with its teachings and humble appeals to earnest, truthful souls.  It reaches our daily wants, and is to us a life-book, not a musty, worthless creed.  It is a stream of life, flowing from heart to heart; not for one only, not for a few, but for all.  It winds by eternal habitations, and flows to the city of our God.  Happy is he who drinks from this lowly stream, so untainted by the opinions of men, and clear and crystal.  Herbert! happy will thy day be when thou hast tasted of its living waters.”

CHAPTER XXXIII.

“Then you do not wholly ignore the church,” said the village pastor to Hugh, after a long and earnest conversation upon religious and social topics.

“I do not.  But I deny that its limitations and its dogmas can control the growing mind, and believe it to be wrong for the church to assume or desire to do so.  As a great, leading guidance to popular thought, I would combine the church with the theatre-.”

“The theatre!” exclaimed the minister, holding up both hands in holy surprise.  “You don’t mean that we should turn the sanctuary into a play-house?  I tremble for the age, sir, indeed I do, if such views are to be tolerated.”

“Not turn the church into a theatre, but combine the two, and with the good that is to be derived from each, form a perfect temple.”

“But the theatre is a temple of evil,” remarked the pastor.