Page images
PDF
EPUB

"Doubter" says—" The belief of immortality is not naturla or the rose did, that developed the rose; this is plain. It was not

innate, because, if it is, he ought to have it as well as others; but he has not got it." But this, surely, is no proof of the noninnateness or unnaturalness of ideas or faith. It is only proof that the person has not yet grown up to an appreciation of such reality, or that the idea or faith has not yet expanded in him, but exists only in germ. The child of a week old has no idea of mathematics, or poetry, or metaphysics, or even goodness, truth and beauty. It has instincts only. But as he grows up, even could we suppose him left without any education, we cannot suppose him incapable of some ideas or faith, which are perfectly natural. I trust that no one here will stop to metaphysise any farther on innateness of ideas, in distinction from innate inclination to ideas. The argument does not require it. Besides, the natural inclination to faith in immortality is sufficient for the purposes of growth. It simply shows that the thing is not unnatural,—that because some have not got it, it follows not that when others have, it is not of nature, any more than because a child has no idea of faith in beauty and goodness, such a state is unnatural. It only proves that the person or persons have not yet grown up to it, or it is not expanded in their minds.

Now, then, I say, a person must have grown up to something of an appreciation of this truth (the fuller, the better) before logic can have its full effect upon him. And a philosophical mind, I am sure, will not object to this position. He may apply it in a thousand cases.

Now, if "Doubter" be of this character, (and if he is, it proves nothing concerning a noble and beautiful expansion in all other directions,) it cannot be expected my argument alone will produce much effect upon him. But I will try, prompted by the purest motives of good and truth. There are hundreds of thousands, even among Christians, precisely in his condition. I have spoken, then, of the internal and external organization. To be sure, this phraseology may be objected to. Man is one. He is one organization. His spiritual body is joined to his material body, so that there is one body. So is the butterfly in the caterpiller. So is the folded rose in the bud. So is caloric in all substances. To be sure, the butterfly is not a butterfly while only the worm exists, the rose is not a rose while the bud is unblown, and caloric in any given form of substance, is caloric in that individual form no longer, when that form is destroyed. But I put forth these as illustrations only, not as arguments. My simple idea is, that when I speak of two bodies of man, I have reference to two states of existence. Let us only suppose the second state, in order to make the argument. Let us put it forth as an hypothesis. It is a sort of sum in moral arithmetic, corresponding to what is known in common arithmetic, as the rule of "Position." Let us then simply suppose a second state of existence for man. Now when I speak of two bodies, I have reference to two states of being. With reference to this world alone, the body is one-a union of a refined interior organization, with a gross, external, fleshy body. But let us not be blinded by terms. Call it, if you please, one body, one organization, and only one. Now the question is, does it all die? Ah! that is the very question. My position is that it does not only the outer part grows cold and dead, and finally crumbles away, because the inner part-its life and soul, has departed from it. But how do I know this, or believe this? It is a truth, then, demonstrable even to the external senses, that all outward forms are simply the results of internal essences as their causes. Take a rose. It is an unfolding of matter in a most beautiful form. But of course there must be some interior principle to cause its unfolding. Call it anything you will. Call it energy. Call it electricity. There must be something. But perhaps you will say, it was the power and motion of the matter itself. Well, indeed, so it was, some matter, but it was not the rose leaves, nor the stem, nor in fact that very The rose did not develop itself. There was no rose till it was developed. It was, then, some matter that existed before

rose.

mere motion operating on nothing. This cannot be conceived. It was not motion operating on the rose. The rose had not existed. It must have been, then, motion in some previous matter. But the gross earth did not unfold the rose. Mere vegetable matter did not unfold it. What did? We all know that matter goes on refining and refining, till a well known substance called electricity is produced. All matter is reducable to a gasseous state, and electricity is about the highest condition of matter we can conceive of. Now let us suppose (and if "Doubter" will not suppose, he must be very unwilling to believe,) a quality of electricity really unfolded that rose. I do not say that it did, distinctly and alone, but let us suppose it. This, then, was the interior essence or cause, of which the outward form of the rose is the effect. Now this is true, in a similar manner, with all forms. They are simply the effects of internal operating essences as their causes. It is the same with the animal, it is the same with man.

The human form is the result of something that existed be fore it. It is the effect of a cause. That cause is interior to the form. And it is something. It is not mere motion operating on nothing. That cannot be conceived. It is the motion of a refined matter which developed the grosser, outward form. The spirit of man, then, existed before the body, and developed the body. It did not exist as a perfect, full-formed spirit, but only as a germ; and it developed itself as it developed the body. Mind did not exist (individual mind in this instance) until the form and organization were completed. But the germ of the spirit did, and then the more perfected form of the spirit, till at last the internal essence clothed itself in a perfected human form, and man stood complete in soul and body. (I am speaking now, of course, of the first men, not of after propagation.)

Now I say, that soul, or internal principle, or spiritual organization, can never be destroyed. The flesh which it has gathered round it may be, but that is only the outer part. The inner inner existed before it, and is not dependent upon it. This is the grand error of the sceptical argument. It exactly reverses the order of things. There is no mind before the organization, but there is spirit or soul, and when this spirit or soul is fully organized, then there is mind and thought. Be it remembered that both the spiritual organization, and the fleshy, grow together, but the spiritual is not dependent on the material, it exists before it, and does not therefore necessarily die with it. In fact, the spirit is the proper man. It is in the form of the man. It exists in him, not in any particular locality, but throughout, as water exists in a sponge. It has developed its material covering, and it is only when that covering, being worn out, or diseased, is insufficient to sustain itself, that the spiritual organization, which was in fact the man himself, escapes by natural process to a surrounding, higher, more spiritual sphere.

So the organization is never destroyed, consequently the soul and mind are never destroyed. The soul, in fact, is the most important organization.

It may sound strange to many readers, especially to some who consider themselves, and are considered by others, most learned and spiritual, to talk of the soul as an organization, but on this subject we quote from Professor Bush, in one of his notes in a number of the "Memorabilia of Swedenborg."

"To suppose (says he) a human spirit void of a human form and senses, is to annihilate the very idea of spirit; for as every essence has its proper form, and every form its own essence, (they being necessary correlatives,) so every spirit has its body suited to the world it belongs to, according to that distinction laid down by the apostle: 'There is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body;' and indeed, it is as rational to conclude that a human spirit should have a human organized body, endued with spiritual senses in a spiritual world, as that the same spirit should be invested with a material, organized body with natural senses in this natural world. It is to be lamented, and the

more for its tendency to promote infidelity, that many of the learned, so called, have in a manner defined and refined spiritual nature into nothing, by divesting it of substantiality, to which it has a more particular right by far than matter; nor is the body of an angel less substantial, in a proper sense of the word, than a solid rock, though not according to the condition of material nature. Upon the whole, the common ideas of the vulgar and illiterate come much nearer to the truth and reality of heavenly things, than the vain conceits of such speculating sciolists."

The soul, then, is a substantial organization of most refined spiritual substance, not depending on the body, but the body depending on it, for its formation and being. This is the true position. Now this organization, we have said, is never destroyed. I am aware that the potent question-why

not? still remains to be answered.

We give, then, this reason:-Because the soul or spirit of man is a combination and perfection of all form and substance: or,

it is an individualization, for the first time on this earth, of all the substances, qualities, and refined essences in all Nature, —at least, of all that nature which belongs to earth. How do we arrive at this? The position is capable of very much illustration and proof, but it may be briefly settled, I think, by attention to a few generals. We all know that the mineral Kingdom is first in the order of Nature, then the vegetable, then the animal. Now, the animal forms are more perfect than the vegetable, as the vegetable are more perfect than the mineral. Among the animals, the higher class of quadrumania are of course more perfect than the lower. Each is perfect in its species or order, but the higher are more perfect, being higher. Man is the most perfect of all. He is the embodiment of all beauty and symmetry. Now, the higher forms are always the receptacles of the higher substances. Mineral matter is of a lower and grosser nature than vegetable composition, and so are the forms of minerals lower and more rudimental than vegetable forms. Vegetable matter is less refined than animal matter, and so are the forms of the vegetable Kingdom lower and more rudimental than animal forms. Animal matter again, is an ascension from vegetable matter, and so are the forms of animals more beautiful and perfect than any of the vegetable world. Man stands at the head of animated nature. Consequently he is the perfection of all form and substance. All the lower forms flow into him, and he is a combination and perfection of the three kingdoms of Nature. He is a microcosm. He is an epitome of the universe. The ancients possessed this idea, and possessed it truly.

But some may ask-what evidence have we that man still is not a partial embodiment of the forms and substances of Nature? How are we sure that he is the fulness and perfection of the whole the crown of creation-that there may not be another ascension, a higher order of being, proving that man is not the perfection of all form and substance? We answer, we have no doubt that there may yet appear on the face of this earth, a higher order of man,—a race, in some unknown period of the world's future, to which all the glories of the present humanity may be brought into comparative obscurity. Indeed, some scientific authors, speaking from a mathematical argument on the apparent breach in the circle of human life to which man belongs, have proposed the question concerning our own race as but the initial of the grand crowning type,—a species superior to us in organization and power, of purer feeling, of nobler aspirations and uses, "which shall complete the Zoological circle on this planet, and realize some of the dreams of the purest spirits of our race."

But we have no reason to believe that there will be any thing more than man; man of a higher order, but still man. For, consider, how uniformly he now exists, how different from the varying species of the lower animals. Look abroad, and you see all varieties of forms among the animals, from the insect to the ourangoutang. To speak in homely, unscientific phrase; you see dogs,

horses, elephants, apes, &c. Look among men, and you do not see any such variety. You see but man, of "form erect, and godlike front divine." For an immense and unmeasured period of time, you still see man, varying by degree of perfection only, not by difference of species. The conclusion is, this is the ultimate ascent of Nature. Man is the head. Form can progress no higher, in essentials, and of consequence, substance is all embodied in him, the most refined essences, indeed all essences, qualities, and substances, have ascended through all inferior nature, and produced their ultimate in Man. Man thus is the image of God. Man ia a microcosm-a miniature universe.

Now, then, he retains his immortality on this principle. His spiritual organization cannot be destroyed. It is even a chemiual nature. Chemists will tell you, as we said in a late numcal argument. For, behold the analogies of material and spiritber of the "Rationalist," that particular kinds of matter will unite with each other, and cohere, according as there is an affin

ity. Iron and wood will not mingle, at least in our common
chemistry, but many minerals and other substances will. Now
suppose you have two kinds of matter united in a chemical af-
finity. The way that we should analyze and separate would be
thus:-We should throw into our crucible containing this mat-
ter, a third substance, which had a greater affinity for one of
the two than for the other, and this would cause a disunion and a
new re-union. But now, if we have got a matter that contains
all matters-a perfect combination and individualization of all the
substances, essence and qualities of Nature, in perfect proportion,
how shall we proceed to separate this? Alas! Nature has now tri-
umphed over all our power. This last body is immortal! There is
nothing to be added, nothing to be taken away. And this is the
case with the individualized spirit of man. This perfect and
finished structure-this crowning work of the great laboratory
of Nature, is a compacted unity of all. Now let death come
and threaten dissolution. Let the old destroyer try his best at
the work of separation. He may separate the soul from the body
but dissolve the soul he cannot. Alas, there can be no such thing
in Nature. The chemistry of God is too strong for him! The dif-
ferent parts of this spiritual body, being a perfect whole, made
of all the parts, now have a greater affinity for one another than
for any thing else around; (like two matters in chemical union
before a dividing substance is thrown in ;) so that, when the
outward body fails or falls, the spiritual body cannot be absorb-
ed or attracted away into anything else. It coheres by pure af-
finity. It is not so with any lower organization. When an in-
ferior animal, or a vegetable dies, there not being a perfection
and unity of all form and substance, the whole structure is ab-
sorbed into the surrounding matter, and so is all disorganized.
Man retains his immortal identity on strictly philosophical prin-
ciples. And at the death of the material vestment, the organi-
zed spirit, invisible, as unorganized electrical matter is, but real
as that too, escapes by a process purely natural, and gravitates to
a congenial clime in the surrounding heavens, or spiritual
spheres of immensity.

As to the locality of the spiritual world, it may be made the matter of a separate article. It does not need much pertinent remark. Suffice it to say, we are in it now, in a manner, for does not my spirit exist? It is only the material vestment which chains me to this gross sphere, but were the veil torn way, or the spirit less sensualized, we could even see, as many fine spirits have seen, the glories and beauties of that mystic world.

Now, I know not what impression I have made on the mind of my correspondent, or on others. As before said, the spirit must grow up to something of an appreciation of this truth, before mere logic can produce its full effect. It is not unreasonable to ask a cultivation of these feelings for this purpose. But I will ask "Doubter," and every other like him-Do you not feel impressed? Are not your thoughts elevated? Is not Reason set upon a more promising track? Do you not feel something of

your spirit's life and continuity? Can as much be said for the opposite view? At all events, is not this reasoning more congenial to the soul, and is not that presumptive proof of the truth of it? Does it not, after all, seem to affect the innateness of the ideas, or truth, or inclination to faith in the mind, and after careful consideration, does it not encourage you to go on?

This is as much as we can hope to do with mere intellectual reasoning. There is a higher ground for faith than this, not to be slighted because it is not susceptible of moral demonstration. It is the soul's actual life in approximation to the immortal sphere. It is mental verity. It is what cannot be expressed but to kindred minds-soul-sensing, spiritual reality.

But I refrain. There is another species of evidence to those who cannot sympathize with the last remarks, and that is, the argument founded on many psychological facts which have been presented both in the "Rationalist," and the "Univercoelum." I cannot renew this argument here; I must conclude, for the present, in expressing my most fervent desire for the acquaintance with all such spirits as need their doubts removed, or who sympathize with me.

W. M. F.

ORIGIN OF THE UNIVERSE.

PHILOSOPHY has endeavored to account for the origin and formation of this globe on principles of Nature and Reason; while theology has put forth every effort to sustain the opinions entertained by primitive generations, and sanctioned by theological authority. Scientific philosophy has indisputably demonstrated the immutability of natural laws, the immortality of Truth, and the unchanging nature of all principles governing the UniAnd thought has partially lifted the veil that has so long concealed the truth from the minds of the world; and this has been done by thought alone, the most exalted faculty belonging

verse.

to the human mind.

Nevertheless, general truth has been arrived at by pursuing curved lines through the mythology and superstition of every age and nation. The lines that lead to truth unmingled with error, however, are perfectly straight; and these, if pursued, lead gradually beyond the realms of darkness and ignorance that may have environed the mind of the traveler; and every step that is taken, ushers him into a more beautiful light. And thus he approaches Truth by the light of Reason and the unchanging laws of Nature; and when he arrives at the Truth, he finds himself surrounded with grandeur and magnificence that can be conceived of and appreciated only by one who has the supreme love of eternal Truth dwelling within him.

The mythological opinions of primitive nations have been gradually and imperceptibly modified, as knowledge has been unfoided in the minds of mankind. And these modifications have been so imperceptible to each subsequent generation, that the nineteenth century only unfolds a true conception of the change, by its contrast of truth, and light, and knowledge, with the ignorance and superstition of the extreme ages of antiquity.

[PRINCIPLES OF NATURE.

THE road to character and fame, once so narrow as to admit only the few, is open now to all. The common gifts of providence are possessed by all. These are distributed with an equal hand, by God, through all ranks and grades of society. Poverty can not destroy them, nor can wealth confer them. They spring up amid discouragements and difficulties, and, like the power of steam, acquire new elasticity by pressure. And the honors to which their proper cultivation lead, are open to all. [N. MURRAY.

THE true life of the soul is prefigured in the healthy body. Like the unconscious, involuntary beatings of the heart, and motions of the lungs, are the steps and deeds of progress in the high world. [CHARLES WORTH.

Psychological Department.

DREAMS.

DREAMS can be procured by whispering in the ears when a person is asleep. One of the most curious as well as authentic examples of this kind has been referred to by several writers. I find the particulars in a paper by Dr. Gregory, and they were related to him by a gentleman who witnessed them.

The subject of it was an officer in the expedition to Louisburgh, 1758, who had this peculiarity in so remarkable a degree that his companions in the transport were in the habit of amusing themselves at his expense. They could produce in him any kind of a dream, by whispering into his ear, especially if this was done by a friend, with whose voice he was familiar. At one time they conducted him through the whole progress of a quarrel, which ended in a duel; and when the parties were supposed to be met, a pistol was put into his hand, which he fired, and was awakened by the report. On another occasion they found him asleep on the top of a locker, or bunker, in the cabin, when they made him believe he had fallen overboard, and exhorted him to save himself by swimming. They then told him that a shark was pursuing him, and entreated him to dive for his life. He instantly did so, with such force as to throw himself entirely from the locker, upon the cabin floor, by which he was much bruised, and awakened of course.

After the landing of the army at Louisburgh, his friends found him asleep in his tent, much annoyed by the cannonading. They then made him believe that he was engaged, when he expressed great fear, and showed an evident disposition to run away. Against this they remonstrated, but at the same time increased his fears by imitating the groans of the wounded and dying : and when he asked, as he often did, who were down, they named his particular friends. At last they told him that the man next himself in the line had fallen, when instantly he sprung from his bed, rushed out of his tent, and was aroused from his danger and his dream together by falling over the tent ropes. A remarkable circumstance in this case was, that after these experiments, he had no distinct recollections of fatigue; and used to tell his friend that he was sure he was playing some trick upon him. A case entirely similar in its bearing is related in Smellie's Natural History, the subject of which was a medical student in the University of Edinburgh.

A singular fact has been observed in dreams which are excited by noise, namely, that the same sound awakens the person, and produces the dream, which appears to him to occupy a considerable time. The following example of this has been repeated to me: A gentleman dreamed that he had enlisted as a soldier, joined his regiment, deserted, was apprehended, carried back, tried, condemned to be shot, and at last carried out for execution. After the usual preparations, a gun was fired; he awoke with the report, and found that a noise in the adjoining room had produced both the dream and awakened him. The same want of the notion of time is observed in dreams from other causes.

Dr. Gregory mentions a gentleman who, after sleeping in a damp place, was for a long time liable to a feeling of suffocation whenever he slept in a lying posture, and this was always accompanied by a dream of a skeleton, which grasped him violently by the throat. He could sleep in a sitting posture without any uneasy feeling; and after trying various experiments, he at last had a sentinel placed beside him, with orders to wake him whenever he sunk down. On one occasion he was attacked by the skeleton, and a long struggle ensued before he awoke. On finding fault with his attendant for allowing him to lie so long in such a state of suffering, he was assured that he had not lain an instant, but had been awakened the moment he began to sink. The gentleman, after a considerable time, recovered from the affection.

Poetry.

MOTHER MARGARY.

WRITTEN FOR THE UNIVERCŒLUM, BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.

On a bleak ridge from whose granite edges
Sloped the rough land to the grizzly North,
And where hemlocks clinging to the ledges
Like a thin'd banditti straggled forth,
In a crouching, wormy-timbered hamlet
Mother Margary shivered in the cold,
With a tattered robe of faded camlet

On her shoulders, crooked, weak and old.

Time on her had done his cruel pleasure,
For her face was very dry and thin,
And the records of his growing measure
Lined and cross-lined all her shrivelled skin.

Scanty goods to her had been allotted

Yet her thanks rose oftener than Desire, While her bony fingers bent and knotted

Fed with withered twigs the dying fire.

Raw and dreary were the northern winters,
Winds howled pitiless around her cot,
Or with long sighs made the jarring splinters
Moan the misery she bemoaned not.
Drifting tempests rattled at her windows

And hung snow-wreaths round her naked bed, While the wind-flaws muttered o'er the cinders, Till the last spark struggled and was dead.

Life had fresher hopes when she was younger,
But their dying wrung out no complaints,
Cold, and Penury, and Neglect, and Hunger,
These to Margary were guardian saints.

Of the pearls which one time were the stamens
'Neath the pouting petals of her lips,
Only four stood yet, like swarthy Brahmins
Penance-parted from all fellowship;

And their chatter told the bead-roll dismal
Of her grim saints, as she sat alone,
While the tomb-path opened down abysmal,
Yet the sunlight through its portal shone.
When she sat her head was prayer-like bending,
When she rose it rose not any more,-
Faster seemed her true heart graveward tending
Than her tired feet, weak and travel-sore.

She was mother of the dead and scattered,-
Had been mother of the brave and fair,—
But her branches bough by bough were shattered,
Till her torn heart was left dry and bare.
Yet she knew, though sorely desolated,—
When the children of the Poor depart,
Their earth-vestures are but sublimated,
So to gather closer in the heart.

With a courage which had never fitted
Words to speak it to the soul it blest,
She endured in silence and unpitied,

Woes enough to mar a stouter breast.
There was born such holy Trust within her
That the graves of all who had been dear,
To a region clearer and serener

Raised her spirit from our chilly sphere.

They were footsteps on her Jacob's-ladder;
Angels to her were the Loves and Hopes
Which had left her purified but sadder,-

And they lured her to the emerald slopes
Of that Heaven where Anguish never flashes
Her red fire-whip, happy land whose flowers
Blossom over the volcanic ashes

Of this blighted, blighting world of ours.

All her power was a love of Goodness,
All her wisdom was a mystic faith
That the rough world's jargoning and rudeness
Turns to music at the gate of death.

So she walked while feeble limbs allowed her,
Knowing well that any stubborn grief

She might meet with, could no more than crowd her
To the wall whose opening was Relief.

So she lived an anchoress of Sorrow

Lone and peaceful on the rocky slope,

And, when burning trials came, would borrow
New fire of them for the lamp of Hope.
When at last her palsied hand in groping

Rattled tremulous at the gated tomb,
Heaven flashed round her joys beyond her hoping,
And her young soul gladdened into bloom.

[blocks in formation]

THE UNIVERCOLUM

AND

SPIRITUAL PHILOSOPHER.

EDITED BY AN ASSOCIATION.

left; unless a kind and sympathizing hand is there to assist, you can only remain on your back-your face toward heaven-and trace the shape, and size, and color, and position of the various objects in the room. The quilts-their various folds, the bed posts their size, hight and irregularities, the curtains-their colors, and half invisible shadows upon the walls; the chairs, the garments that were last worn; the cane that was the com

NEW-YORK, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1848.panion of the last ramble, which is historically traced and reta

TO THE FRIENDS OF THE UNIVERCŒLUM.

our own.

ken to the minutest detail-you can only lie and muse on these and other things. Perhaps you would sleep now. But no, your heart is trembling, your brain is hot and active-the fever is increasing the body is feeding upon itself. There-what is that? a ticking! Remember that only a few days ago-or weeks, perhaps-you were strong, fearless, mirthful; but now you recollect the stories and instances of childhood, concerning the signs, symptoms, sensations, and portents of death. The ticking! Yes, you think, you know it is the death-watch-an insect that ticks away the hours and minutes of your rudimental existence. You must change-a little longer, and you feel you will reside

on earth no more.

The individuals who wronged and injured you months ago, are remembered, numbered, and gloriously forgiven. Oh, if you could only have been so calm when you came in contact with them, how clearly you could have pointed out the influences and misunderstandings which caused the conflict, and what you were moved to consider intentional injury and unkindness! The in

THE present Number, as it will be perceived, commences a new volume, and the second year, of our publication. We have no time or room at present, to devote to a review of the past history of our enterprise, nor do we deem it necessary to recount the difficulties and embarrassments necessarily attendant upon the establishment of a journal of the peculiar character of Suffice it to say that the multifarious obstacles which limited resources, and the combined unfavorable circumstances of the outer world, have thrown in our way, have been, to a considerable extent, overcome; and with the experience of the past, and in view of the brightening prospects of the future, the Univercœlum may be considered as permanently established. It is, however, not yet beyond the pressing need of assistance from its friends, nor of all the exertions there can possibly be made to extend the list of its subscribers. The publication is more ex-dividuals you have wronged-Oh, some foreign spirit prompted pensive than ordinary journals of its size, owing to the extra care that is bestowed upon it, and the small amount of standing matter in its columns; and the alacrity with which it will be conducted, and the vigor of its tone and interest of its pages, will necessarily be in some degree commensurate with the support which it receives from the public. We need, therefore, only express our earnest desire that all who feel any interest in the principles of which it endeavors to be a faithful advocate, will do something in the way of extending its subscription list —not merely for the abstract purpose of supporting the paper, but for the purpose of introducing others to its principles. There is, perhaps, scarcely an individual among our patrons, in the sphere of whose acquaintance there is not one person or more who would not be pleased with the weekly visit of such a journal as ours. Let each one, therefore, make all proper exertions to add such persons to our list; and the cause in which we are all so deeply interested will thereby be greatly advanced, and the Univercœlum will be invigorated, placed beyond all embarrassment, and will go on its way rejoicing in the increased evidence of due appreciation.

A SPIRITUALIZING INFLUENCE.

you!-you could not do so now-you are calm-you are very sick-you love them now! You know that, if they feel unkindly toward you now, the hour will come when the spiritualizing influence of disease, or prospective transformation, will enable them to forgive you as you have forgiven them.

Such are the beautiful results of some physical afflictions While the body is eating up and destroying itself, the good, the true, and the beautiful, unfold themselves in the soul and bless the philosophical sufferer. Perhaps the inward senses will be opened,-if so, what glorious forms and scenes will break upon the vision. An acquaintance from the superior country may stand by the bed side. The real realities of the spiritual existence will move you to expressions of joy. This acting upon the physical will indicate pain to natural eyes; but the body is worn out and incomplete, and outer life is no longer possible nor desirable. You break the now slender fetters which hold you down. Now you ascend above the earth-you stand superior to it, and from the passions, and conflicts, and temptations, and the innumerable misdirections of this earthly life you arise to a more immediate association with the good, the wise, and the Divine.

This strengthens the belief that what is termed evil develops good; and what is termed disease sometimes unfolds numerous blessings and advances the mind to holiness and elevation.

A. J. D.

THE ARTICLE in our last week's number entitled "THE PALATE, ITS STRUCTURE AND DISEASES," is one of the series being prepared by A. J. Davis. His name as connected with it, was accidentally omitted. We will say in this connection that Bro. Davis' attention for the present is mainly absorbed by the subjects of physiology and general medical science, and that he intends in course of a few months, to give to the world a book on these subjects. Our readers, however, will occasionally hear from him on other subjects of interest and practical importance

THERE is almost always a subduing, refining, and spiritualizing influence emanating from the seeming evils of physical affliction. Under the silent influence of many diseases, the material temple is made, as it were, to crumble and fall piece by piece, to the earth; but under the same quiet influence the indwelling spirit the immortal mind, unfolds its delicate and youthful proportions, day by day, and hour by hour, until it is prepared to tread the sunny paths, to inhale the fragrant odors, and to associate with the radiant inhabitants of the superior country. Disease is a strange and unnatural process by which to subdue and purify, and bring the soul into conjunction with the superior and eternal; but it is a revolutionizing ordeal, and in this sense should ever be regarded as a blessing, and sustained with patience and composure. NOTICE. Hereafter all communications intended for the colTo-day you may be strong, and cruel, and unsympathizing; ums of this paper, and all letters on business, regarding its into-morrow you may be weak, and kind, and generous. An im-terests, should be addressed" UNIVERCOLUM." The private and perceptible cause may perpetuate your more slight affliction into personal correspondence of the several Editors, alone, should be a low, lingering prostrating fever; you can receive no nourish- superscribed with the name of the indivual to whom it is adment into your stomach; you can scarcely turn to the right or dressed.

W. F.

8. Б. Б.

« PreviousContinue »