Part 30

Mr. Curran here stated that this had ever been so; that Patience had obscured herself so that her message could not be clouded.

Patience.—“Aright. I do sing.

Gone! Gone! Ayea, thou art gone! Gone, and earth doth stand it stark. Gone! Gone! The even’s breath Doth breathe it unto me In echo soft; yea, but sharped, And cutting o’ this heart.

Gone! Gone! Aye, thou art gone! The day is darked, and sun Hath sorried sore and wrapped him in the dark. Gone! Gone! This heart doth drip o’ drops With sorry singing o’ this song.

Gone! Gone! Yea, thou art gone! And where, beloved, where? Doth yonder golden shaft o’ light That pierceth o’ the cloud Then speak unto this heart? Art thou athin the day’s dark hours? Hast thou then hid from sight o’ me, And yet do know mine hour?

Gone! Gone! What then hath Earth? What then doth day to bring To this the sorry-laden heart o’ me, That weepeth blood drops here?

Gone! Gone! Yea, but hark! For I did trick the sorry, loved; For where e’er thou art am I. Yea, this love o’ me shall follow thee Unto the Where, and thou shalt ever know That though this sorry setteth me I be where’er thou art.”

After this Dr. K., who resides in St. Louis, took the board.

Patience.—“Here abe a townsman. Aye, a Sirrah who knoweth men and atruth doth ne’er acloak the blade o’ him as doth brother ayonder. Ayea, ahind a chuckle beeth fires.

“There abe weave ’pon the cloth o’ me, yea, but ’tis nay ariped the time that I do weave. Yea, thou hast a pack o’ tricks. Show unto me, then, thine.”

Here Dr. V. asked: “Do you know Dr. James?”

This referred to the late Dr. William James, the celebrated psychologist of Harvard.

Patience.—“I telled a one o’ the brothers and the neighbors o’ thy day, and he doth know.”

She had given such an answer to a frequent visitor who had inquired as to her knowledge of several eminent men long since dead. It was considered an affirmative answer.

Dr. V.—“Have you associated with Dr. James?”

Patience.—“Hark! Unto thee I do say athis; ’tis the day’s break and Earth shall know, e’en athin thy day, much o’ the Here.

“This, the brother o’ ye, the seeker o’ the Here, hath set a promise so, and ’tis for to be, I say unto thee. Thou knowest ’tis the word o’ him spaked in loving. Yea, for such a man as the man o’ him wert, standeth as a beacon unto the Here.”

Dr. V.—“Could Dr. James, by seeking as you did, communicate with someone here as you are doing?”

Patience.—“This abe so; he who seeketh abe alike unto thee and thee. Ayea, thee and thy brother do set forth with quill, and thou dost set aslant, and with thy hand at the right o’ thee. And thy brother doth trace with the hand at the left of him. And ’tis so, thou puttest not as him. This, the quill o’ me, be for the put o’ me, and doth he seek and know the trick o’ tricks o’ sending out a music with the quill o’ me, it might then be so.”

This was interpreted as meaning that if Dr. James could find one who had the conditions surrounding Mrs. Curran, and was able to master the rhythm which Patience uses to give the matter to her, then he could do it.

When the record of the foregoing interview was being copied, Mrs. Curran felt an impulse to write. Taking the board, Patience indicated that she had called, and at once set forth, apparently for Dr. V., the following explanation of her method of communication and the principle upon which it is based:

Patience.—“Aye, ’tis a tickle I be. Hark, there be a pulse—Nay, she (Mrs. Curran) putteth o’ the word! Alist.—There abe a throb; yea, the songs o’ Earth each do throb them, like unto the throbbing o’ the heart that beareth them. Yea, and there be a kinsman o’ the heart that beareth them. Yea, and there be a kinsman o’ thee who throbbeth as dost thou. Yea, and he knoweth thee as doth nay brother o’ thee whose throb be not as thine. So ’tis, the drop that falleth athin the sea, doth sound out a silvered note that no man heareth. Yet its brother drops and the drop o’ it do to make o’ the sea’s voice. Aye, and the throb o’ the sea be the throb o’ it. So, doth thy brother seek out that he make word unto thee from the Here, he then falleth aweary. For thee of Earth do hark not unto the throb. And be the one aseeked not attuned unto the throb o’ him he findeth, ’tis nay music. So ’tis, what be the throb o’ me and the throb o’ her ahere, be nay a throb o’ music’s weave for him aseek.

“I tell thee more. The throb hath come unto thy day long and long. Yea, they be afulled o’ throb, and yet nay man taketh up the throbbing as doth the sea. The drop o’ me did seek and find, and throb met throb o’ loving. Yea, and even as doth the sea to throb out the silvered note o’ drop, even so doth she to throb out the love o’ me.”

This seems, in effect, a declaration that communications of this character are a matter of attunement, possible only between two natures of identical vibrations, one seeking and the other receptive. It indicates too that her rhythmical speech has an influence upon the facility of her utterances. At another time she described her own seeking in this verse:

How have I sought! Yea, how have I asought, And seeked me ever through the earth’s hours, Amid the damp, cool moon, when winged scrape Doth sound and cry unto the day The waking o’ the hosts! Yea, and ’mid the noon’s heat, When Earth doth wither ’neath the sun, And rose doth droop from sun’s-kiss, That stole the dew; and ’mid the wastes O’ water where they whirl and rage, And seeked o’ word that I Might put to answer thee. Ayea, from days have I then stripped The fulness of their joys, and pryed The very buds that they might ope for thee. Aye, and sought the days apast, That I might sing them unto thee. And ever, ever, cometh unto me Thy song o’ why? why? why? And then, lo, I found athin this heart The answer to thy song. Aye, it chanteth sweet unto this ear, And filleth up the song. Do hark thee, hark unto the song, For answer to thy why? why? why? I sing me Give! Give! Give! Aye, ever Give!

When the foregoing verse was received, Dr. X. was again present, this time with his wife and two physicians, Dr. R. and Dr. P. It will have been observed that many doctors of many kinds have “sat at the feet” of Patience Worth, but all, as I have said, have come as the friends of friends of Mrs. Curran, upon her invitation, or upon that of Mr. Curran. On this occasion Patience began:

“They do seek o’ me, ever; that they do see the pettiskirt o’ me, and eat not o’ the loaf! (More interested in the phenomenon than the words.) Ayea, but he ahere (Dr. R.) hath a wise pate. Aye, he seeketh, and deep athin the heart o’ him sinketh seed o’ the word o’ me. Aye, even though he doth see the me o’ me athrough the sage’s eye o’ him, still shall he to love the word o’ me.”

After due acknowledgments from Dr. R., she continued: