Part 14

If any reliance can be placed on the observations of the most credible witnesses, whose evidence would be received on any other subject, and in law would be given power to decide on life or death, these facts of Thought Transference cannot be rejected. If they are received, they demand explanation. If thought passes from one mind to another, or, as it is often expressed, the will influences a distant person, it is self-evident that something passes from one to the other. What is this something? Facts conflict with the hypothesis of its being matter radiated from one individual to another, as light was once supposed to be transmitted. It passes too readily through vast thicknesses of solid matter, and is too instantaneous in its action, to consist of radiant particles. On the other hand, all of its phenomena show a striking relationship to light, heat and kindred forces.

HOW IS THIS INFLUENCE EXERTED?--Admitting that there is a psychic-ether, in which thinking produces waves, how does one individual influence another thereby? If the brain vibrates like the strings of a musical instrument, as no two are alike, no two vibrate alike. This is more than a mere illustration. Both depend on similar laws, for the string excites vibrations in the air, which are felt by the nerves of the tympanum of the ear. Thinking creates undulations in ether, which are impressed on other minds. The string of the instrument excites similar vibrations in contiguous strings; for the atmosphere transmits the waves of sound.

This is very beautifully shown by a simple experiment, which equally well illustrates the method by which mind influences mind. If a plate of glass is strewn with sand, and, while held in a horizontal position, a bow drawn across its edge, a musical sound will be produced from the vibration of the plate, and the sand, by the impulse, forms into various geometric lines, according to the note produced--each note giving rise to a figure peculiar to itself. So invariably is this the case that a piece of music might be accurately written from the forms assumed by the sand.

Now, if a piece of parchment or paper be stretched, with proper precautions, across the top of a large bell glass and strewn with sand, and the glass plate held over it horizontally, and the bow drawn across its edge, the forms assumed by the sand on the paper will accurately correspond with the forms on the glass. If the glass is slowly removed to greater and greater distances, the correspondence will continue until the distance becomes too great for the air to transmit the vibrations.

When a slow air is played on a flute near this apparatus, each note calls up a particular form in the sand, which the next note effaces and establishes its own. The motion of the sand will even detect sounds that are inaudible.

Professor Wheaton devised a means of beautifully illustrating this sympathy. If a sounding board is placed so as to resound to all the instruments of the orchestra, and connected by a metallic rod of considerable length with the sounding-board of a harp or piano, the instrument will accurately repeat the notes transmitted.

The nervous system, in its two-fold relation to the physical and spiritual being, is inconceivably more finely organized than the most perfect musical instrument, and is possessed of finer sensitiveness.

But it must not be inferred that all minds are receptive. Light falls on all substances alike, but is very differently affected. One class of bodies absorbs all but the yellow rays; another, all but the blue; another, all but the red, because these substances are so organized that they respond only to waves of the colors reflected.

Some individuals have the ear so organized that they can hear certain sounds, but are totally deaf to others. The waves of sound strike all tympanums alike; yet in these instances they are incapable of responding to certain waves. Some person who delight in music, although all the lower notes are plainly heard, as soon as the tune rises to a high key, can not hear a single sound. In others, this is reversed. The eye of some individuals is similarly arranged--some colors being undiscernible, while others are perceptible. The vibrations are the same in all these cases, but owing to peculiarities of organization are not felt. As musical instruments to respond must be attuned in harmony, so there must be correlated harmony between minds which transmit and receive thoughts. All minds give out vibrations, as all musical strings give out sounds; and as there must be a corresponding string to receive its notes, so there must be not only a sensitive but harmoniously attuned mind to receive the thought vibrations.

Individuals not mutually harmonious--at least in some point--do not excite a mental influence on each other; but if they are thus organized, they will influence each other. This is unavoidable, whether the will is excited or not; but if the stronger will is exerted, its power is proportionally greater, and it will magnetize the weaker; and the peculiar phenomena attending that mental state will be manifested.

It is not the body which magnetizes or is magnetized; it is the mind; and these effects are produced outside of the physical system. The fact that one person can magnetize another by the simple power of the will, though at a distance, is evidence that the mind in this exercise of power is independent of the body.

If we grant, for the sake of the argument, that there is a spirit back of the physical aspect of mortal life, it will be readily seen that all that has been said of the transference of thought between individuals, holds true between spiritual beings, as this transference at last resides in the spirit-being. As man is a spirit incarnated, differing in that respect only from a disembodied spirit, the body is the only obstacle between him and the spirits above him. Sensitiveness to impressions from another, or from a spirit, rest on the same cause; and in the higher realm of spirit, the transference of thought is controlled by the same laws, and reaches more perfect expression.

Intimations of an Intelligent Force.

BELIEF IN GUARDIAN ANGELS.--Memory brings back the days of our childhood and again we hear our mother sing that simple song of joy, which, it is said, Bishop McKendree murmured on his dying bed:

Bright angels have from glory come, They're round my bed; they're in my room; They wait to waft my spirit home; All is well! All is well!

We approach the dark river of death alone, but we are not to cross without a guide. We may be blind to the light of the celestial sphere in the full pulse of health; we may be insensible to the presence of the nearest and dearest of our departed; yet when death loosens the bonds which unite the physical with the spiritual body, what is known dimly as clairvoyance, the full possession of the spiritual senses, bursts upon the awakened spirit. Then the dying find that death is life, and to leave earthly friends is to meet the hosts of heaven.

That there are guardian angels has been taught from immemorial time, and in some dim form is a belief of all except the lowest races of mankind.

It is a beautiful belief, full of consolation, of assurance, and comfort to the struggling and striving. How hard may press the iron hand of fate, how sharp the flinty stones beneath our bleeding feet, we think of those blessed messengers by our side, and feel that our burdens are for the purpose of giving us strength, else they would turn us aside to more pleasant paths. We know that they are with us in the darkest hours, and enjoy with us the days of our sunshine. We delve in the soil and smirch of the world, and the physical being obscures and overlaps the spiritual to such a degree that our horizon is shut down on that side by thick clouds, and only at long intervals can a ray of light penetrate the darkness.

Our lives might be so well ordered that we would be as conscious of the presence of these guardians as of earthly friends. What is possible at rare moments of lucidity is possible at all times under like conditions. The fault is not on their side, but on ours. The sun forever shines in the heavens, just above the thin vail of clouds, and if the sea does not reflect the starry night, it is because of its agitated surface.

We do not see through the thin vail, which separates the world of spirits and men. We cannot see the air which surges a profound and agitated ocean above and around us. Without material rays of light we could not see material things, and would be practically blind.

If we ascend a mountain in the night, we can only perceive the gray and mossy rocks a few yards ahead of us, bordering the path, beyond which would be impenetrable darkness, gloomy abysses, seemingly unfathomable, and above, the dark night-clouds without a star. On the summit we rest awaiting the morning, seeing nothing, but scenting the faint odors of pine and the fragrance of flowers borne upwards on the gentle air. Patiently we wait until the gray East blushes with a long horizontal line of light flaming upward toward the crimson clouds, and the distant mountain-tops with the silver flood. Lo! the orb of day pushes the clouds aside, and flashes over the world in triumph. What transformation! What grandeur and beauty! Valleys of eden, loveliness at our feet, and snowy summits above our heads! Grand forests clothing the hillsides, bloom and flower everywhere; gem-like lakes, and flashing torrents, endless prospective of mountains on one side, and of plain on the other. All night we were in the midst of this grandeur and beauty, yet saw it not. We seemed suspended between earth and sky, and around us only blackness, yet all this splendor of scenery existed the same as it did before the light made it visible.

Thus the world of spirit may exist around us, unseen, unfelt, except as we perceive the odor of asphodels, or hear the faint murmur of angel whispers, for our eyes are blind to the light, by which it is revealed.

FACTS UNREFERABLE TO PREVIOUSLY CONSIDERED CAUSES.--After referring to hypnotism, somnambulism, clairvoyance and thought transference, a great mass of the facts presented for explanation, there still remain a large number which stand apart by themselves, and which bring an outside or independent intelligence with them, which no exaltation on the part of the actor can supply. The only adequate or even plausible explanation of these facts is that which refers them to the agency of intelligent beings beyond our ken. The presence of such entities may or may not be recognized by the percipient. The ideas and motives may be impressed all the same. We may be assured that unconsciously those who by study and practical experience become adept in particular lines of thought or practical affairs, are the most proper mediums for the communication of spirits dwelling in the same sphere of thought, and that such communications are continuously made unconsciously to the percipients. The weird stories which come up from the rugged toilers of the sea are full of interest in this particular. The infinite solitude of waters; the long and lonely watches, with the sweep of waves and the silent stars, conduce to a state of abstraction and reverie, peculiarly favorable to the reception of impressions. If there is need in this world of the watchful care of guardian angels, the sailor on the lone ship which plows the trackless waste at the mercy of the elements requires them most. Human skill and foresight may provide to the utmost, and yet there remains the greater dangers which can not be foreseen or provided against. The sailor, feeling that he is helpless in the hands of the elements, becomes superstitious, though often what is called in him superstition, is belief in influences which future knowledge may accept as valuable accessions to the realm of mental science. I have from the lips of Capt. D. B. Edwards, the narrative of two incidents in the life of his brother, which illustrates this faculty of intuition, if we may give it that name; and if one were to gather up similar stories which are told by the officers, volumes might be filled.

Capt. John B. Edwards was in command of the steamship "Monterey," one of the New York and New Orleans line of steamers. In one of his voyages he came up with Sandy Hook in a terrible storm. The air was so full of driving snow that the officers could not see the length of the vessel. The sea was high and rapidly increasing, and no pilot responded. To remain was impossible; to go on was almost certain destruction. If the Captain could make the light-ship he would know his bearings, and be able to steer into harbor; but in that drift of blinding snow and rush of waters, in which he had made his approach from the sea, he had been unable to make observations, and had no assurance that he had not deviated from his course under the influence of the drift of wind or current, at least to the variation of a league or more. In his perplexity he ordered the ship to be stopped, and for a moment reflected on the difficulties of his position. While thus waiting, with every sense strained to the utmost, an impression came like a flash, that the light-ship lay in a certain direction. He immediately ordered the officers to keep a sharp lookout forward, for he would run ten minutes in a certain direction to test his impression. The great wheels again revolved, and the steamer swung obedient to command, and rushed on into the drift. In six minutes the mate on the bow threw up his hands, crying: "Hard-a-port! hard-a-port!" and the steamer quickly responding to her helm, passed the stern of the light-ship, from which the Captain easily took his bearings and safely steamed into the port of New York.

During the war Capt. Edwards was coast pilot for the Government steamer "Vanderbilt." During one voyage he came up to the "Hook;" a storm was coming on and no pilot in sight. The Commodore came to the wheel-house and asked Capt. Edwards if he thought he could take the ship into port. Edwards shrank and trembled at the question, for he knew the ship was drawing as much, if not more water, than was on the bar, and the responsibility thus thrust upon him was overwhelming. But suddenly he was forced to speak, replying without hesitation: "Yes, sir." "Go ahead," was the order of the Commodore. With every faculty intensely active, his strong and steady hand held the wheel, and the ship went over the bar without touching, and all was well. His ability and trustworthiness for the action received the highest recommendation from the Commodore.

It is sad to learn that this noble man sacrificed his own life in caring for his mate, who was a victim of yellow fever in the hospital of Rio Janeiro. From the many remarkable experiences in his own life, Capt. D. B. Edwards related, I take one which is characteristic of the others. He is a strong and powerfully built man, with every line indicative of honest resolution and endurance. He has retired from the sea-faring life, but has made his home by the coast. He impresses one with rare and sterling honesty and purity of character, and a self-contained repose which is a peculiarity of most officers who have passed their lives at sea.

He said that one bright day in March, sailing up Long Island, he was overtaken by a snow-storm which suddenly concealed all landmarks, and the wind momentarily increasing, soon became a terrific gale. In that narrow strait one has not to sail for a great length of time in the wrong direction to reach the coast. As night came on the situation became more appalling, and wreck most certain. He gave the wheel to the mate and allowed himself time to reflect. He could arrive at no conclusion. Suddenly it flashed through his mind to steer by the lead! How? "Why, where the Thames enters the Sound it is deeper. When you reach that channel follow it into safety." It was the only chance, and he seized it. He went to the bow, for he would trust no one, ordering the mate to implicitly, and with utmost readiness, obey orders, and hold the vessel on her present course. Standing at the bow, with the spray falling in torrents over him, and the wind straining the spars to the utmost, he cast the lead to find the ordinary level of the Sound. He continued to cast until suddenly deeper water was indicated, and with joy he gave the order that changed the course of the vessel, and in a few minutes brought her into the still waters of the Thames. Then, he said, in a change of warm, dry clothing, they sat in the snug cabin and drank their hot coffee with a sense of peace words can but feebly express.

SAVED FROM DEATH BY A PREMONITION.--It may be said that under the stimulus of danger and great emergency, the mental faculties become intensified, and that we can not fix their limits; that all that was required of Capt. Edwards was courage to act in response to knowledge he had acquired, but which was latent until called forth by the extraordinary demand. We shall now introduce facts to which this pleading will not apply. The first shows two distinct intelligences, one of which was superior to that of mortals, for it could foresee the future, and must have acted on Capt. McGowan, to compel him to relinquish a well formed plan, without any assignable reason, and pursue one entirely different. The thought of the theater had not entered his mind, and he gave his boys no excuse for breaking his word with them.