Audiobook of the extracts from:
Paul and Albert of  Rev. G. Vale Owen.

first published 1924- and still available through Greater World Spiritualist Association for ca. 2english ponds 

  Summary on OF CHIEF CHARACTERS
  
  PAUL, a doctor of medicine, dies suddenly one day on returning from his round of visits, 
and finds himself lying on the floor of a hut in the gloomy Borderland of the Afterlife; a 
neutral land, between the region of gloom and that of twilight. His shrunken body, ragged 
clothes and clouded mind reveal the sordid soul he so cleverly concealed while on earth. He is 
met by Albert and Monica, two of his victims, and by Mme. Blescombe, a vicious associate of 
former days. With them is  Sister,  from a higher sphere, who has charge of Albert and 
Monica. She explains to Paul that his future relationship with them, and theirs with him, will 
largely determine their destinies. He is committed to Albert's care, but no sooner do they 
begin their journey than he rebels against the guardianship of the man he has wronged. In a fit 
of frenzy he leaves the road they are treading, and plunges defiantly into the darkness.
  
  After a 'mad career through the horrible life of the hells he returns, weary and broken, to 
the hut where Albert awaits him.
  
  Ms. BLESCOMBE, while on earth, had kept a gambling club at her Chateau in France, 
having squandered her father's fortune left to her at his death. She had never married, 
preferring her free life of vice and swindling; gambling, blackmail and bribes for various 
shameful services had been her means of livelihood. The doctor was always a welcome guest 
in her circle. On their first meeting in the Borderland he shrinks from her, because the inner 
woman is revealed by her aspect. But after his mad revolt he finds himself in the 
neighbourhood of her Chateau, where, amongst her coterie, she is called  Countess . She 
welcomes him, and he joins her circle of friends. The reasons why she has assumed the title of 
 Countess  are given by  Sister , where other affectations of the mock-genteel order, amongst 
the members of that community, are also explained.
  
  MONICA, during her earth-life, was lured into vice by the doctor and had been in the 
darkness since her passing-Over. At first her agony was sharp, but that soon passed into a 
state of continuous sadness and remorse which, in its turn, blossomed into repentance. 
Brought by the bright ones into contact with Albert, their reckoning with Paul (the doctor) 
begins at their entrance into his hut. She follows Paul into the wilderness, whither he plunges 
headlong in his defiance. She meets him again outside the cave, where he has been flung after 
torture, and tries to lead him back to Albert. Paul turns upon her in a fury and tries to fell her 
to the ground; but he is forcibly restrained by  Sister,  who takes Monica away, and leaves 
him to his self-inflicted fate. She and  Sister  take charge of the poor pantomime, the girl 
whom Paul brutally kicked insensible.
  
  
  ALBERT, during his earth-life, sustained a bad accident to his face, and was attended by 
the doctor. This doctor, Paul,  was secretly intriguing with Albert's wife, and saw an 
opportunity to lessen her esteem for her husband.  Accordingly he purposely bungled the 
treatment of the case, with the result that his patient became permanently disfigured. Paul, 
therefore, is terrified when he meets his victim in the Borderland.  Finding himself in Albert's 
charge, he defies him, breaks away, and wanders through the dark hells. Albert patiently waits 
until Paul returns, when he takes him to a Church near the hut, in which those of their 
condition may find  rest and guidance. There they meet a Missioner,  a visitor from a higher 
sphere beyond the hills, who points out the progress they have both made, and blesses them 
for their future work. On leaving the Church, in a short time they arrive at the road where they 
had parted company earlier in the narrative. Bitter experience has taught Paul humility. He 
now puts himself under Albert's guidance. So instead of turning aside, he accompanies Albert 
along the broad highway that leads to the pass between the hills.
  
   SISTER,  born a Breton on earth, has charge of several Rest Houses in the Borderland. 
She visits Paul, after his passing-over from earth into this gloomy region, and consigns him to Albert's care.
  
  During Paul's mad rebellion she rescues Monica from his fury, and takes charge of the poor 
girl he had ill4reated at Mme. Blescombe's Chateau. When Paul and Albert have met again 
and once more begun their journey toward the Land of the Dawning,  Sister  meets them as 
they sit resting by the roadside. She opens their eyes to the improvement in their appearance-
the result of endurance and repentance-and guides them into the Land of the Dawning. There 
Paul and Albert are reunited to their wives in happy reconciliation.
  
  
There is also a partly German translation of this book online at galactic.no.     



 
introduction.  
  The  Paul and Albert  inspirational script was received by Mr. Vale Owen from the band 
of spirit communicators who had previously contributed the first three volumes of  The Life 
Beyond the Veil ; but in this instance  Sister, in quotes, was leader. The intermediary 
between the band and the recipient of the narrative was Kathleen, through whom, therefore, 
the actual form of the narrative came.
      SISTER,  born a Breton on earth, has charge of several Rest Houses in the Borderland. She visits Paul, 
after his passing-over from earth into this gloomy region, and consigns him to Albert's care.
  
  Kathleen in earth life was a seamstress who lived in Anfield, Liverpool, and passed over in 
about the year 1893, at the age of twenty-eight.
  
   Paul and Albert  is complete in itself, and in character differs greatly from the rest of the 
Vale Owen Script. Although the names of the people are fictitious, the narrative itself is 
true, that is, as true as is possible when giving a picture of the Other Life in language of 
Earth.
  
  The communicators, Kathleen explains, have transmitted this story with deliberation and 
purpose. Those who lead dainty and delicate lives, regardless of their obligations to less 
fortunate people, will read in the pages following what kind of life awaits them soon. And if 
its portrayal, she says, toned-down though it be, is not sufficient to deter these selfish ones, 
they would not be bettered were the wickedness and horror more fully described.
  
  The mission, then, of these communicators seems to be to underline with no uncertain hand 
the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.
  Reading this account of Paul's wanderings through, the hells reminds one forcibly of 
Dante's  Inferno, since the same atmosphere of terror surrounds both. Their differences, 
however, are fundamental.
  
  Readers of the Divine Comedy will remember that above the entrance to Inferno the great 
poet reads the sentence:  All hope abandon, ye who enter here.  That is its keynote. In  Paul 
and Albert,  however, there is no room for such despair. Hope is possible even for those in 
the lowest hells. No soul is utterly lost, nor is there any wastage in the great Economy of the 
Creator. Another Paul wrote, centuries ago:
   If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet 
so as through fire. 
  The  burning,  then, is remedial, a purifying; and hell is a purgatorio.
  The torment there is self-inflicted, and the essential folly of wickedness emerges 
unmistakably. Paul's anguish is the natural result of his actions during his life on Earth. 
Having entered the next stage of existence, a continuation of this, he still bears on his lack the 
burden of a selfish life. He lives there, as are, under the same laws, urged by the same 
motives. The only difference is that the crust of pretence, so carefully built around himself on 
Earth, is stripped off him at a stroke. It follows that unseen influences, in obedience to those 
laws, impinge upon his naked soul with greater and more terrible intensity.
  At every step in his descent he may turn back if he will. Yet, while fearing the threat of 
anguish, he embraces it; and, although at first the stench of hell nauseates him, he inures 
himself to its horror. Each moment is a crisis; each action the result of free choice. Yet at 
every fresh step he degrades himself, sinking lower and lower, till the evil within him is 
exhausted.
  Then he realizes that wickedness is another name or folly.
  
  It will be interesting to the reader to notice how punishment fits the crime in the Hereafter.
  Paul's chief fault, during his life on Earth, was selfishness, which often took the forms of 
avarice and cruelty. After he has entered the Afterlife, he finds that all his gains, so carefully 
hoarded, are gone, his clothing is merely rags, and his body is shrunken like that of a miser.
  Drawn by an unresisted attraction, he joins different communities, each made up of people 
as selfish and false as himself, till he reaches the point when he despises and fears them.
  Before that crisis comes upon him, his sensuous nature also is allowed full play.  He 
discovers, however, that far from satisfying his desires, he is so tormented by them, that he 
sickens of the condition into which they have driven him.
  
  Hypocrisy was another of his weaknesses. So, we find him at the old Chateau, strutting and 
preening himself like a gallant of old, one of many posers. Yet all the while he knows how 
trivial is this finicking pretence; also, an important point, he is uncomfortably aware that the 
others know it too.
  It is easy for a hypocrite to gain some satisfaction from his acting among honest people, 
who expect honesty from him, and seem to get it. No satisfaction, however, can be gained 
when those whom he meets are laughing up their sleeves, because, being students of 
hypocrisy themselves, they see through the farce, and are positive they can do it much better.
  Thus each flame of Paul's fire of wickedness is damped out, leaving nothing but ashes.
  
  Full realization is the turning-point of his career. He begins to return towards the light he 
left so precipitately. But, swift as the descent of a human soul can be, the re-ascent is always 
slow and arduous. And Paul is but the wreck of his former self.
  
  Weary and broken, shorn of self-respect, and of respect for others, he faces the greatest 
crisis of all his experience.
  Hope comes to him at last.  Certain words, forgotten in the excitement of his frenzy, come 
to the forefront of his memory and help him now. Albert and  Sister,  who had spoken them, 
still wait for him with inexhaustible patience and love. Resolution surges within him; he will 
get back, back to the friends he had foolishly spurned.
  He scales the ascent, so steep and heart-breaking. By dint of that innate determination he 
had ill-used hitherto, he fights his way upward to the Borderland, from whence he had 
wandered. There Albert at once takes him in charge, and they two together, gaining in 
strength and joy with every step, pursue a nobler path, which leads to the Land of the 
Dawning.
  The above is only a cursory Summary of a remarkable narrative, which must be read 
carefully, and not too quickly, to make a just impression of the great theme it contains. The 
word-pictures will be found very vivid, and its atmosphere pronounced.
  
  
  
  EDITOR.
  
  
  
HOW THE MESSAGES WERE RECEIVED
   Mr. Vale Owen gave a description, published in a previous volume,  The Outlands of Heaven,  of 
how it came about that he acted as amanuensis, and the way in which the Script came through his 
mentality. His account is as follows:
    There is an opinion abroad that the clergy are very credulous beings. But our training in the 
exercise of the critical faculty places us among the most hard to convince when any new truth is in 
question. It took a quarter of a century to convince me-ten years that spirit communication was a fact, 
and fifteen that the fact was legitimate and good.
    From the moment I had taken this decision, the answer began to appear. First my wife developed 
the power of automatic writing.  Then through her I received requests that I would sit quietly, pencil in 
hand, and take down any thoughts which seemed to come into my 'mind projected by some external 
personality and not consequent on the exercise of my own mentality. Reluctance lasted a long time, 
but at last I felt that friends were at hand who wished very earnestly to speak with me. They did not 
override or compel my will in any way-that would have settled the matter at once, so far as I was 
concerned but their wishes were made ever more plain.
    I felt at last that I ought to give them an opportunity, for I was impressed with the feeling that the 
influence was a good one, so, at last, very doubtfully, I decided to sit in my cassock in the Vestry after 
Evensong.
    The first four or five messages wandered aimlessly from one subject to another. But gradually the 
sentences began to take consecutive form, and at last
   I got some which were understandable. From that time, development kept pace with practice. When 
the whole series of messages was finished I reckoned up and found that the speed had been maintained 
at an average of twenty-four words a minute.
    On two occasions only had I any idea what subject was to be treated. That was when the message 
had obviously been left uncompleted. At other times I had fully expected a certain subject to be taken, 
but on taking up my pencil the stream of thought went off in an altogether different direction.
    The effect of what, perhaps, we might term the more mechanical operations, as these impinge 
upon the organism of the human brain, the transmitters themselves describe in some detail.
    Vibrations, initiated by them and projected  through the Veil, find their target in the mentality of 
he human instrument and are reproduced, on this side in what is, in effect, a kind of inner clairvoyance 
and clairaudience . . . That is, he sees these scenes in his imagination as he, by a similar process, is 
able to visualize his garden or house, or other well-known face, when at a distance.
    The words of the messages seem to travel on a celestial-mundane telephonic current. He can hear 
them interiorly in much the same manner as he is able to hum over a well-remembered tune, or to 
reproduce speech he has heard with all its inflections and cadences, pathetic or uplifting all this 
interiorly, and without himself uttering a sound.
    In addition, however, there is a deeper content I the operation. It is that effect upon the human 
instrument produced by the more or less intimate contact of spirit with spirit. This is actual  Spiritual 
communion,  and is recognized in the Creed of Christendom in the article 'The Communion of Saints.'
   So intimate and so perfect must be the sympathy aim and affection existing between transmitter 
and receiver, that whenever any thought comes through which seems to be at variance with what is 
true, immediately a shock is felt, and the instrument faces about, as it were, with a query in his mind, 
which on the part of the communicator is as immediately observed and noted. 
   The transmitters of  Paul and Albert  were a band of spirit communicators, including Kathleen, and 
led by  Sister ; and the  human instrument,  mentioned above, was the receiver, Mr. Vale Owen.
  
  In the following,  p means side number. P6 means for example then page 6.
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER I.
THE RECKONING BEGINS.
Tuesday, January 14th, 1919, 5.50 to 6.52 p.m.
  
  Not long ago a man came over here who had been a doctor of medicine in the earth life. He 
had a London practice, and died suddenly after going his daily round of visits. He had a rather 
nice house and a comfortable income, which had lately been increasing quickly, and he was 
therefore much surprised on awaking to find himself in a miserable/ dismal room, ill-lighted 
and not over clean, lying on the floor in a corner.
  He sat up and looked about him, and the first thing which came into his mind, when he had 
once realized that he was not asleep and dreaming, was - Kidnapped!  But why?  He sat there 
for a long time trying to think the matter out, and so much was he taken up with his 
surroundings that it was only after a considerable period, that he thought of looking at 
himself. Then he was shocked to find that he was attired in a suit of dirty coloured calico, 
(printed cotton fabric) - much shrunken and ragged. The coat was baggy and shapeless, and much 
too large for him, and the trousers reached only to his knees where they ended in tatters. He 
also observed that, whereas he had been a finely-made man with stalwart limbs, now his arms 
and legs were shrunken and bony, and his body, he realized, was in like condition; and that, 
altogether, he was smaller than he had been.
  He sat there wondering how this had come about and almost began to doubt his own 
identity. This he was unable to do, however,  for he knew he was himself and no other. He 
also knew he had been unconscious, but was now awake and alert enough. So he tried to 
remember what had happened before he lost consciousness.  Still there was nothing in his 
recollections to account for his present condition. The last thing he remembered was his 
arrival home and asking his wife what there was for dinner. Then he went to have a wash and 
to change his coat. Here his memories were suddenly cut short and he remembered nothing 
further.
  At that moment the door opened and a woman entered. She was dressed in a garment of the 
same colourless hue as his own-an armless tunic reaching to the knees. She went to another 
corner and lay down without noticing him in the least. Then another woman and a man 
entered and, behind them, a third woman came.
  They spoke neither to him nor to each other, but all, except the last to enter, lay down as if 
they were very weary, and had only one object in view, and that was to go to sleep; not so 
much to rest their bodies as to sink into mental oblivion. For their faces were haggard and 
their eyes were but the windows of tortured souls.
  The one-time doctor sat with his back against the angle and gazed on them in surprise and, 
presently, in horror. For the longer he looked at them the more hideous and malevolent did 
their faces, and even their attitudes, appear. There was, in some indefinable way, a sense, an 
atmosphere, of wickedness, hate and agony in the room; and this had become intensified as 
each had entered, so that it had now become intolerable. But the strange thing about this 
feeling was that the wickedness and malevolence seemed to be not so much theirs as his own, 
reflected back to him. So he resolved to go outside and see if it was any better there. But when 
he tried to rise he found himself so weak as to be quite unable to do so.
  He sat there gazing at his companions, therefore, and, by and by, he began to realize that 
none of them was asleep. As they lay there on the ground they were all looking at him and, 
even in that gloomy semidarkness, he could see their eyes as if they were lighted from behind 
with an inner flame, incandescent.
  Then gradually he became more and more afraid until he could scarce keep his limbs from 
shaking with terror. But he strove to do this, for he felt that if he moved they would all spring 
at him. This effort, too, was torture, but better, he told himself, than even being addressed by 
such hideous, bestial people as these seemed to his disturbed mind to be.
  Then there came over him once again the remembrance of the scene he had just left. It 
could not have been more than a couple of hours or so since he was in his own comfortable, 
well-warmed and well-furnished home just about to sit down to a good meal after a long day's 
work. It seemed to him actually about ten minutes. He had been figuring out what he had 
made in that day, as he motored home in his comfortable car with his chauffeur in front. He 
had been idly gazing at the chauffeur's back and the quaint thought had come into his mind 
that, if the man had about, say, thirty shillings in his pocket, and his watch had cost three 
pounds, and his underclothes, say, two pounds-the uniform had cost about five pounds ten 
shillings complete-well, he had made just about one and three-eighths of what would buy the 
man as he sat there. And it had not been an extra good day, so far as remuneration went. Now 
I tell you this because it was typical of the man. Kind actions he had done now and again. But 
his real object in life was not a high one, and certainly not altruistic.
  After that he remembered his arrival home and then  --all was blank. And here he was, sure 
enough. But how had he come here? Not of his own will he was certain. Then another thought 
flashed upon him. Mad! Yet he had never shown any signs of madness that he was aware of. 
Nor was insanity in his family.
  
  I have said that he dreaded his companions. But so great was his terror at the uneasy 
silence and their continued motionless staring at him that, at last, against his will, he suddenly 
cried out,  Why don't you speak, some of you? Why do you lie glaring at me like that? Is this 
your home and, if so, how do I come to be in it? 
  Then the three women looked at the other man and he rose and went and stood a few feet 
away from he doctor and said,  There's no hurry, my friend; plenty of time for everything 
here : and he laughed in a mirthless way. Then he continued, waving his land towards his 
companions,  We have come together here, but this is not our home. This is your home. Ours 
is not far away. But we were informed of your arrival and were sent to greet you. As I said 
before, here is plenty of time for everything and, therefore, we have not forced the pace. 
  Then ensued this conversation between the two men:
   But this is not my home. 
   Oh, is that so? And which is your home, if this is not it? 
  The doctor gave the address.
   Oh, I see. So that's your home. Yes; so it is. That's where I remember coming to consult 
you once. I was a patient of yours. Just have a good look at me.... No? Well, well; your 
memory seems to have failed you somewhat. That's too bad. I thought you would have a niche 
in your memory for an old friend. 
  
  Suddenly the doctor uttered a loud shriek of agony. The nose of the man had been broken 
and badly set, and he recollected the case at once.
  Then the other continued,  Ah, I see you have a glimmering of my identity, at any rate . 
You remember this nose, don't you? That is why I was informed of our coming. 
  
  Now, I must explain that when this man had sustained a bad accident he had been attended 
by this same doctor and had, later on, come to his residence for further treatment. When the 
bandages were at length removed, however, it was found that the nose was shapeless, and his 
face disfigured for life. He did not suspect then that it was intentional, but afterwards found 
that the doctor had been carrying on an intrigue with his wife and, in order to lessen her 
esteem for her husband, had adopted these means.
Wednesday, January 15th, 1919. 5.35 to 6.50 p.m.
  So the doctor was very much afraid, and cowered back in his corner. But the other said, 
 I see you remember me now. Well, you will also realize that you are no longer in a position 
to do to others as you did to me. You have quitted your body and, with it, your home and all 
that helped to make life comfortable for you. Now you have to start again, as I had to do when 
I came here; and you seem to have about as much chance of making it bearable as I had - less, 
I should judge. 
   But where am I? Where is it you live?
   Oh, a little way down the street. I'm going to take you there shortly. But first these ladies,  
he added with a sneer,  wish to renew your acquaintance -or, in other words, they have been 
ordered to do so. 
  
  We will not go into all the sordid dealings which were brought back to his memory as he 
recognized two of them. Once was a young woman whom he had lured into vice, and then 
cast aside. She had lingered a few years making a living as he had first taught her to do, and 
then had passed on after a very painful illness in an isolation hospital.
  Another was also young, but of a different aspect. She was not coarse in feature, nor so ill-
clad, and her form was even comely. She stood in the background and did not take part in the 
proceedings. It was she who had entered the room last and alone, and, indeed, the others 
seemed scarcely aware of her presence.
    p6
  The third woman was past middle age. Her hair was nearly white, her face hard and fierce. 
She came to him and bent over him, glaring into his eyes in silence. Then he murmured, 
 Madame Blescombe! 
   
  At this she smiled grimly, and answered,  Oui! I am glad monsieur knows 'me again. We 
shall now renew our good comradeship. Many an hour we shall kill with reminiscences of the 
old days at the Chateau, eh, monsieur? 
  
  She had kept a gambling club at her chateau in France, having squandered her father's 
fortune left to her at his death.  She had never married, having preferred her free life of vice 
and swindling. Gambling, blackmail, bribes for various shameful services had been her means 
of livelihood. The doctor was not unknown to her circle, and always a welcome guest. Now 
he shrank from her for, in a flash, the inner woman was revealed and somewhat of the fate to 
which her former manner of life had brought her. For that he cared but little. What troubled 
him was the fact that it revealed at the same time the probable destiny in store for himself.
  
  After a while the man spoke again.  Now,  he said,  get up and follow me. Your first 
destination is my own desirable residence.  And when the wretched man hesitated to rise, 
being now almost paralysed by terror, he added more sharply,  Look here, doctor, we may as 
well understand one another at once and finally. Listen.
  
   I have been through hell. I will not describe my experiences to you; you will be able to 
sample them in your own person shortly. Suffice it to say that there were extenuating 
circumstances in my case which will not be found in your own, poor devil!  These have been 
pointed out to me, and I have had sense enough to take advantage of them. The result is a 
rapidity of transit through those dark halls and gloomy caverns which otherwise would have 
been much prolonged. 
  Here he paused a moment, as if memory paralysed utterance; and then continued in a 
subdued tone - it was as if he had caught the faint sound of a distant voice of admonition and 
warning;  I have come through it more quickly than many do. But I am only through the very 
worst of it. You have but to look at me to see I am still in hell. I am only not so deep in it as I 
was. Indeed, I have seen a faint gleam of light, and it has helped - oh, there you are, my good 
friend. I thought I heard you whisper to me just now. Was that so? 
  
  He had caught sight of the young girl who had entered last.

 Kathleen speaks of her as  Sister.
  
 She had come forward quietly 
and stood at his left hand. She answered him,  Yes, I did send you a little word to restrain 
you. You were forgetting, were you not? Now let me explain the rest to this poor fellow. 
  
   
  
  Then to the doctor she said,  This man has called you doctor. That office is no longer 
yours; for you have not used it well. As to your medical skill, I will only say that it was not 
nearly so great as either you or your unfortunate patients considered it to be. For it was based 
on material science, and even the bodies of your patients are more than mere matter. You took 
no account of the fact that those bodies were permeated through and through with spirit; 
which being withdrawn animation ceased.
   What made the affair so much worse - I still speak in a medical sense - was that your 
motive in chief was the making of money. The curing of your patient was not the aim, 
but only an aim; it was not the principal aim you had in view. It took a subordinate place. 
You would not have admitted this, even to yourself. You would have been shocked at the 
suggestion. That, however, is the first thing you have to recognize here, for until you have 
done so there is no hope of progress for you.
  
    p8
   You do not accept my words now. They will come back to you in the midst of your agony 
and will be of help to you then. That is why I have spoken in this way to you.
   So, instead of 'Doctor,' you will be called 'Paul'; for you are little of stature and, at present, 
of little worth. Stand up and verify my words. 
  He dared not disobey her quietly-spoken command. But when he stood up as she had 
bidden him he was staggered at the fact that, while she was just fairly proportioned, the crown 
of his head was only on a level with her shoulder. In earth life he would have been much taller 
than she.
   Now you see what I mean,  she continued.  Remember that, although that name is yours 
henceforth, yet it has been borne by good and bad in the history of earth. Fix your mind, when 
you are able to do so, on the good, and on the most famous of all, who one day may be able to 
help you if you show your worthiness in the end to bear his name. Yes, you can do this; but 
your pilgrimage will be a long and weary one.
   This man has come that way, too; and has in part learned his lesson. You are committed 
into his keeping for the present time, until you begin to descend the Valley of the Rocks. Do 
not take alarm. You will not be driven there. When you go, you will go of your own will, and 
not until you drive yourself that way will you go. Meanwhile, this man has you in charge. It is 
a test and a task for him, and according as he performs this task will his next steps lie towards 
or away from peace. He is called 'Albert'; for no particular reason - he chose it himself. It 
happened to be his name on earth and, until earth influences are done away, he prefers to 
retain it. I am going to leave you now. Is there any question you would like to ask me before I 
go? 
   Yes. I want to know by what right you have consigned me to the care of this man? 
   The question is not one of right, so much as of love. You do not understand that, for love 
has found little place in your heart, being crowded out by selfishness. I, therefore, reply as 
will best help you, thus: The first thing you had better do is to grapple with the fact that you 
are completely in the power of the evil rulers of these realms, except for the help of such as I. 
If you do not admit this of your own free will you will be ground down and crushed into 
submission - not by me, nor by any of my Order - but by those same dark rulers and their 
subordinates. Under their power you must pass, for you paid your allegiance to them in your 
earth life, although you little realized that fact then. But, while you have this short respite, I 
advise you to cultivate the ability in yourself of accepting what help I and Albert are able to 
give you. For such a link made now, will bind us to you when you are down there.
  
   When you are no longer willing, and indeed able, to stay in these parts, and leave for the 
darker places, then I will come to you once again. At that time also this man will give account 
to me of his dealings with you. 
  Then she turned to Albert and said solemnly, and with a touch of tenderness:  Albert, my 
little child snatched from those red worlds below, I have gone through much travail for you, 
and you are not yet fully born into the light of His Presence. Remember this and my love for 
you and your loved one. She is penitent now, and her love for you has returned to her and is 
breaking her heart for sorrow of the grief she caused you. She will soon be coming out of 
earth's troubles to grapple with what penance she has stored up here. But she will not come so 
far downwards as this, for she is already working out her salvation in grief and repentance and 
love for you. Be careful, therefore, that your account to me of your dealings with this unhappy 
man be such that I may be able to take you a little way onward where you may meet her when 
she comes. In that case you and she shall travel together, helping one another on towards the 
light. Remember. 
  
  Then intently she looked at Paul, as we must now call him. But there was no sign of 
softening in his face. So she slowly turned, walked to the door and went forth. And as she 
went the air seemed to become more chill, and what little light there was changed somewhat; 
and whereas before there had been a slight rosy hue blended in it, that was now withdrawn, 
and it was very gloomy without it.
  It was then Paul realized his abject poverty and degradation. He had been used to do much 
as he would with people hereto, and they seldom had stood against his dominating 
personality. Now a young girl scolded him and called him small and poor, and shamed him. 
She commanded him, this slip of a girl, and he dared not defy her; for he knew that, with all 
her sweetness, she was strong, and he was weak and poor. No friend, of all his many friends, 
was there, but only enemies who had just cause for vengeance.
  He was there in the gloom and alone in his great weakness.
  
  
  
Thursday, January 16th, 1919, 5.45 to 6.20 p.m.
  The street into which they entered was but a single line of huts facing open country. It 
stretched away and downward until it became lost in the gloom. There was no horizon. Here 
and there flickered a lurid light like a small wood fire of green and copper-coloured flames. 
Most of the place was apparently bog-land, for there arose from it a stench of decaying matter 
which was borne about in fumes most revolting and suffocating. Paul gasped for breath and 
leaned against a fence for support. But it gave way as soon as he touched it and he fell 
headlong into a muddy enclosure. Albert began to laugh, and then checked himself and, going 
forward, helped the wretched man to regain the pavement of cobble-stones.
   For pity's sake,  cried Paul,  what is this place; and is there no way to get out of it? 
  
  His companion now became very serious as he looked at him. He paused for a time, and 
then said:
   That plot is called a garden, but the best flowers it will grow are a kind of fungus 
/mushroom. It's a garden only by courtesy, or perhaps so called in deference to that cold 
cynicism, mixed with make-believe, of which you will find here more than a sufficiency. You 
see I am beginning to be able to stand aside from things and look at them from a partly-
detached point of view. That, however, was not always so; and it is a sign of my progress. But 
I find I am not yet on very firm ground. I nearly laughed at your plight just now. That was a 
bit of the old devil in me which I thought I had left behind down there. 
   I would rather have your ridicule than your pity, anyhow. 
   Yes, I think I understand; sort of 'coals of fire' feeling, isn't it? But I want you to realize 
that my pity is quite sincere. No one who has been through what I have been through could 
help pitying one like you, who has even a worse hell-journey before him than I had. 
   Paul shuddered and peered through the gloom into his companion's face and asked:  Why 
do you say that? Why tell me in advance? 
  
   Not to add to your torture, as you are imagining. I cannot say I have quite forgiven you 
for what you did to me. I don't think I can do that until you come to me and ask for my 
forgiveness. But I am trying to get ready for that time. So what I do and say is only for your 
good. I want you to bear that in mind. It will make things easier both for you and me. I told 
you of your fate in advance to help you to realize fact. For many years you have been trying 
to blind yourself as to what you really were and the future in store for you when you should 
come over here. If you will take the advice of one who has been through it, you will drop that 
insane attitude and own up to what you really are. 
  
   What do you mean by that? 
   Well, what is your opinion of your life? 
   I have not lived the life of a saint. I never pretended to do that. I'm not a hypocritical local 
preacher. 
   Not a local preacher, certainly; but a hypocrite - yes. 
   How do you mean?  I don't feel inclined to stand any lectures from you; and certainly not 
insults. 
  Albert again paused.  I am only just beginning my present work; it is quite new to me, and 
I hardly know how to deal with you as I have been instructed to do. You seem to be rather a 
difficult case for me to start with. 
   I wish you would explain, and not talk riddles like a fool. 
   My poor fellow, you are adopting your old style - over-bearing, hard-faced and bullying. 
You were ever so, I remember. But here it is not only out of place in such as you; it is 
insolent, and I advise you to drop it, once and for all, and adopt a much humbler attitude. For 
you will presently find yourself in the company of such as will resent it in a way you will not 
relish very much. 
   Is there no law in this place? 
   Look at yourself. In your shrunken, ugly figure, in the coarse rags which clothe you, you 
may read an open page of the book of that unerring law which is in operation everywhere -
even here. In earth life you were able to clothe your body with expensive clothes, and to 
mask your black soul with clever words or a smile or a money gift.  Here you are what 
your appearance declares you to be - that exactly, and nothing else. 
   Then this is really permanent-not just a bad dream, I mean? 
   It is neither one nor the other. Certainly it is real enough, as I have found, and you will 
find also. But I have lately come to believe that this state is not permanent. There is a way out 
- I'm almost sure of it. 
  
   Which is the way out? Can't we go to it? I am suffocating here. It is like drowning in a sea 
of bad slimy fog. 
   Well, not fog exactly, because you can see through it. Look yonder. 
  Paul looked and, far away, he saw a hill with a cleft in it. Between the cleft there 
shimmered a glow which evidently came from a light which proceeded from some country 
beyond.
   That is the way out, so I am told,  said Albert.  Then let us make for it in double quick 
time. 
   Not so. That is the point I am slowly and toilsomely making for, and hope to reach 
some day. But I had to go by that darker road to get even thus far. 
  He pointed in the opposite direction. As they stood there gazing out into the darkness, the 
whole dimly lighted country seemed so horrible that Paul shuddered as if he had an ague. 
Now and then a wail came out of the blackness, as of one who had lost all hope of betterment 
and was in much pain. Then a ruddy flash would leap up and, in its light, forms horrible were 
seen, some tearing each other in frenzied anger, or in attitudes loathsome and more horrible 
still.
  Paul uttered a cry of terror.
  
   The more fool you,  he cried.  I am not going to have any of that, if I can help it. You can 
stay here if you choose; you seem poor-spirited enough, anyway. I'm going straight for that 
cleft in the hill yonder, and,  he added threateningly,  you are not going to stop me, either. 
  
   No, I shall not try to stop you. I shall be waiting here for you when you return. 
    p14
  Paul cast a doubtful glance on him, which turned gradually into one of contempt. Then he 
flung round and plunged into the darkness in the direction of the light between the peaks.
  
  Chapter 2
LOST IN HELL 
Friday, January 17th, 1919.  5.45 to 7.15 p.m.
  
  There were two others who witnessed the departure of Paul into the darkness which lay 
toward the far-away light. I mean the two women.
  
  The younger woman had been in the darkness since her passing over. At first her agony 
was very sharp indeed. But that soon passed into a state of continuous sadness and remorse 
which, in its turn, blossomed into repentance. It was at this point that she was brought into 
contact with Albert. I say  brought  for, although they do not fully know it, even in those dark 
places they are watched by the bright ones who report faithfully to their Leaders as to the 
conditions of each of the myriads scattered over those vast continents of gloom. Thus at the 
proper moment they were brought together.
  
  That moment was when it was known that their mutual enemy, the doctor, was about to be 
called upon to render up his account That reckoning began with their entrance into his cell, 
which I have explained to you.
  
  (May I interrupt to ask, is this a true story or fiction?)*
   * All questions put by Mr. Vale Owen are printed in brackets.
  
  True enough, my friend, and, in essentials, repeated by the thousand times. But as regards 
this story in particular: Yes, it is a history of real persons, and the incidents I shall give you 
are true ones. 
    p15
  But I must qualify that by saying that I can only give you as near a copy of the original 
picture as it is possible with the material your earth language affords. It is like asking a 
person to describe a very intricate problem in astronomical mathematics and limiting him to 
those words only that he will hear on a morning's visit to Billingsgate market-and no other. 
Do you get a glimmering of our task, good friend? I will add, however, that the people I 
mention are all real personalities, and that the transactions herein disclosed are all known at 
first hand to one or other of the Band who are using me as their instrument of transmission of 
these messages to you.
  
  (Thank you, Kathleen; I see what you mean.)
  
  Oh, of course. I know you mean that nicely. But, my friend, forgive me when I say your 
statement is a little too positive. You have only a faint glimmering of what I mean. In my 
question I used that word designedly.  When you come over here you will understand. Now 
let us cease from this gossip and get to the real business.
  
  (You are a wee bit hoity-toity, aren't you, Kathleen?)
  
  Did you ever know such an amanuensis? My good friend, do please get to work and take 
down what I am able to get into your erratic consciousness.
  
  (All right; I suppose you must have the last word.)
  
   Being a woman -why don't you say it? It was in your mind, and you shirked writing it. 
You see, you are open to me like a book. Now I am copying a bad example and digressing 
also. Let us continue. It is a sad enough history, goodness knows; and all this levity is quite 
out of place.
  
  (Yes, and I'd like-)
  
  Now, my dear good soul, do please allow me to resume.
  
  (Quite right, Kathleen; I was only about to venture, very meekly, the remark, how I enjoy 
your little swear-it was so human.)
  Whatever do you mean?
  
  (The  Goodness knows.  It was quite a relief to me to get that.)
  
  Pause of two minutes.
  Yes; I did say it. I did not know I had done so. I have just asked and Sister - that is our 
present leader informs me, with a smile, that I have been kicking over the traces, as you 
would say. Your questions came in between me and those who were giving me the message, 
and then a little bit of me just slipped through
  -the human me, as you truly said. I would advise you to cut out the whole passage, both 
questions and answers; it is neither elegant nor edifying.
  
  (Not for worlds, dear lady. I've got it down, and there it sticks.)
  As you please. Now to resume:
  
  It was clearly explained to them why they had been brought together. They were both 
injured people, and both had taken their injury in the wrong way.
  
  Listen. This is one of the most important lessons for people to learn while in the earth life. 
That qualification is emphatic. It is much more difficult to undo here any wrong committed, 
or wrong course taken, while on earth, than it is to do so in the earth life.
  (Why?)
  
  I don't know; but it is so invariably. One moment; I will ask.
  
  Pause of a minute.
  The best way to put it is this: While in earth life the material body and environment make a 
much better background on which to build up your image. Or, to vary it, thus: unspiritual 
people, on being deprived of their material body and its environment, find themselves in a 
spiritual body and surroundings governed according to spiritual laws operating in a larger 
dimension of space. Having sinned against, or neglected to study and use, spiritual quantities, 
they are at a disadavantage when those quantities are all they have to hand. This is the best we 
can do, I fear.
  
  So the task and opportunity were put before them - the task of helping one who had cruelly 
wronged them both; the opportunity of definitely taking their turn-round towards the light by 
doing this service. If they could carry this out, it would be their first definite step towards 
those dark hills against which the light shone from the country, the Better Land, beyond.
  I have showed you how Albert had begun. Now he stepped aside for a while. It was 
Monica's turn. She followed Paul into the wilderness into which he had plunged headlong in 
his defiance and frenzy. She knew the district fairly well, for it was here she had spent most of 
her time after her first sharp agony was over.
  
  It was the region of lesser darkness. The air, as the mountain range was neared, became of 
a somewhat lighter substance and less rank than obtained in the region behind. For this 
reason, the further she went, the more alert became she in brain and the more vigorous in 
body, being acclimatized, as it were, to that region.
  
  But Paul, on the contrary, found that the further he went the more the blackness increased 
and the more difficult was it to breathe the less dense atmosphere about him.
  
  
  He stumbled along with the grim determination of despair. He found that he was upon a 
hard and uneven path, evidently running along the side of the mountain. He could scarcely 
see, but with his hand he felt the rock surface on his right. Careful investigation showed him 
that on the left, the cliff fell sheer away into black depth. As he went on in his increasing 
blindness, he guided himself by touch alone. For the darkness became more dense and, at last, 
he could see nothing at all. His only guidance was the rock.
   
  Feeling his way thus, he suddenly gave vent to a shriek of horror and fear. He had placed 
his hand, not upon the rock, but upon what felt like a wet and slimy thick rope hanging down 
the cliff. He was just wondering if this was a means of ascent, when the rope stiffened and 
squirmed, and a hissing came from a spot a few yards above his hand. He hastily withdrew 
and stepped back. But his cry had informed the monster of his whereabouts. So he fled back 
on the way he had come.
  
  But when he retraced his steps, as he supposed, to the place where he had left the others, he 
paused and looked around him. He could see nothing; all was intense blackness. He 
carefully felt about him on hands and knees and found that he was still on the pass, with cliff 
on one side and abyss on the other. Then he sat down and wondered how he had first come 
upon that path. But he could not remember the moment when he had left the plain for these 
hills. Evidently he was in the midst of a mountainous district infested with reptiles; and what 
other horrors he feared to speculate.
  He was alone-and lost.
  As he sat there he became aware of another horror  - silence. Silence in the heavenly places 
is one of the most exquisite delights of all those sweet things which are stored in those golden 
Treasure Cities of the Blest. In the hells it is horrible.
  
  The Name of God on the lips of the thousands of the Angelic Choir, which floats and 
pulses over the welkin of Heavens mountain, dale, grove, wherever it finds place and passage-
ravishes those who hear it with joy unspeakable.
  I have seen two people walking along an avenue in the forest when, softly murmuring, 
came the far distant echoes of the Angelic Hymn. They two paused and stood still, and their 
bosoms heaved in yearning, their cheeks glowed with the ecstasy of the sound; and at length, 
bereft of speech and overcome by emotion, both lowered the curtain of their eyes, fell on each
    p20
other's neck, and there remained, the face of each laid on his companion's shoulder, silent and 
still until the music died away. It was a hymn of adoration to our only Benefactor, and a 
tribute of love to love's Fountain. It was a song of God.
  
  But in the hells the speaking of any of His Names is forbidden by those who rule there, for 
it sends a thrill of agony wherever it is heard.
  
  So it is with Silence. When none else stirs up sound, then God's Presence filling all the 
apparent void is more emphasized.  That is why Silence in the Heavens is holy, and in the 
hells accursed.
  
  Here on that lonely mountain-pass Paul felt this for the first time, and for the first time 
realized his own vileness - who a few hours before had returned home congratulating himself 
that he was a lucky fellow. He had purchased and furnished a beautiful house, was making 
plenty of money and - well, he is only one of many, as I sadly grieve to know. God help them, 
for it is a sorry lot in store for them, when they come over here.
  
  
   
   dark and selfish thoughts make the outer world
    similar on the astral
Friday, January 24th, 1919. 5.45 to 6.35 p.m.
  Paul sat there crouching upon the rough path in ever-increasing uneasiness of mind, till 
inaction became unbearable. He arose and was about to set forth on his return when he 
suddenly realized that he had lost all idea of the way by which he had come to that spot. So he 
felt for the rock-wall and another horror came upon him. His hand touched nothing. He felt on 
all sides, and there was nothing there. 
  Then he went down on his hands and knees and crawled, first in one direction and then in 
another. By this means he at last discovered the fact that he was on a ridge, or causeway, of 
rock - which seemed to be some dozen to eighteen yards wide. But from which point he had, 
come upon it and when, he could in no wise remember. His ever-increasing perplexity, 
bordering on frenzy, would not allow him any rest. so he walked in the direction of the length 
of the rock into the darkness.
  
  Still the awful foreboding silence oppressed him. He felt that, in some indefinable way, it 
threatened him. On he went, and on, and the path did not end. He wondered why he did not 
fall off into the abyss below, on one side or the other. But he always found himself on firm 
ground. For this he had at first been thankful. But, as he toiled on and on, he became so 
weary of it all that he began to wish that an accident would happen to end his life, which he 
feared to take of his own will. Then, quite suddenly, a thought came to him and, once again, 
he sat down to think it out, in that black darkness and the silence of the void.
  
  This is an epitome of his meditations.
  
   Suicide? What use, when I have already died once, and have found myself alive and 
sensitive to pains I knew nothing of before, and in much worse case altogether? Instead 
of my quite enviable position as a successful practitioner, what have I suddenly changed into? 
Perhaps I haven't changed at all, and was what I am now all the time, but seemed different? 
When I thought I was a man of money is it possible I was but a pauper? Perhaps it would be 
more true to say that I had the disposal of a certain fund which might fail at any moment. It 
did that, anyway; and now where am I, and what am I? 
  
   By the way, those fools I met in that hovel said something about it. What was it? The girl 
I did not know, said it; something about my medical skill being more or less, a sham because I 
did not realize the existence of another body permeating the body of the flesh. That is what I 
understood her - it to mean. I wonder if she is right after all! If she is, then medical science 
is on the wrong track, or partly so. At all events, here I am; and I understand those others to 
imply that I am dead - and yet I have a body still. If that young girl was right, this must be the 
body she spoke of, I suppose. 
   p22
  Then an access of frenzy came over him, and he stood up and shouted,  Ahoy there! Is 
there no one in this infernal wilderness? Ahoy! 
  
  But there was no answer except the silence, which was eloquent as any voice could be. He 
listened awhile and then murmured,  Alone; and in eternity!  and sank upon the ground once 
again and, burying his face in his hands, wept long and loudly.
  
  Long days, weeks and - - years, seemed to go over him as he sat there. The silence had the 
effect of swallowing everything into its gigantic maw.  It swallowed time, and all reckoning 
was quite in vain. He had shouted loudly, and wept loudly, and yet in his ears he only heard 
the voice and weeping of a very weak child, as if from a great distance. That is what lent 
despair to his thoughts when he had cried,  Alone; and in eternity! 
   Comment rune. some similar telling in  the many transmissions from the other side and some similar books of the Swedish communicator OSCAR BUSCH, some are translated, and also in book or film, astral city, - through Chico Xavier.
Goes on from the book.
  At last he arose and, without aim, stumbled on and, as he went, he noticed that the ground 
had begun to rise. This at least was a variation to the awful monotony, and he welcomed it not 
a little.
  
  Presently he heard a faint sound, and hurried on in the direction from which it seemed to 
come. He lost it again, and again it returned; by which he surmised that he was no longer on 
an elevated path, but in a kind of valley, and that the surrounding hills or cliffs shut off, or 
admitted, the passage of sound according to their formation and disposition. As a matter of 
fact, he was only partly correct.
  
  He came at last to a place where a very faint light showed upon his right hand. He turned 
towards it eagerly and found it proceeded from a path which ran through a cleft in a cliff 
which, unknowingly, he had been approaching at an angle.
  
  He turned down this pass between the overhanging rocks. On his left the cliff soon fell 
away and he became aware that he was standing upon a ledge of rock with the cliff behind 
him faintly illuminated, by a ruddy glow which had its origin in the plain below him.
   At first he could not clearly see what kind of country it was on which he gazed. But 
presently his eyes became more used to the elusiveness of what answered for light, and he 
was able to get some idea of the panorama.
  
  
  
   

at the time when this current book of Vale Owen was 
'taken down' - was just the horrible ww1 ended with 
its millions of soldiers and civilians else killed/dead, 
and so suddenly - unprepared - brought over to the 
other side - often in complete confusion of what had 
happened to them, as described in the fantastic 
enthralling book SEVEN STEPS TO ETERNITY of 
Stephen Turoff. (link  + no/dk-link)



Friday, January 31st, 1919. 5.40 to 7.30 p.m.
  He sat there long, looking over the scene lying before him. From the foot of the cliff on 
which he reclined, to the horizon of low lying hills, it was one undulating plain. Here and 
there he saw a tower, or a few scattered buildings, as if an attempt had been made by some 
community to establish a town. In every case failure seemed to have been the end of their 
efforts.  A few scattered, stunted trees, a pool of dull-coloured water, or a cluster of rocks, 
were characteristic of the landscape.  All was in semi-darkness, and yet there was no mist to 
obscure. What was visible was seen in sharp outline, but yet dimly. Only here and there was a 
more pronounced glimmer of light to be observed, as where some fire burned, or where some 
building was lighted from within. But such light as there was only served to emphasize the 
gloom of that truly desolate region, and was faint and ruddy. There was not a ray of clear 
light anywhere to be seen.
  
  As to the sky, that was blackness, as if the great void of infinity held nothing in its abyss 
but dark emptiness.
  
  Paul felt the same oppressing sensation of threatening from without, and shrinking from 
within, as had assailed him when upon the mountain pass. And yet he shrank more from the 
darkness behind him, than from the lurid horror of the land which lay before down there 
below. He arose at last and began to descend towards the lowland.
  
   I will not stay to describe that descent. It was mostly made in the bed of what, in some 
fertile region, would have been a mountain watercourse. 
    p24
But, although water dripped from the black rock here and there in the course of his descent, 
yet it was evil and brackish and spread a slimy film wherever it came. From this fungus grew, 
which seemed to partake more of the animal and less of the vegetable substance than is the 
case on earth. It also rotted into a sodden, spongy mass, and gave forth a fetid stench which 
was almost overpowering.
  
  So he made his descent, and at length came in view of the plain once again. Turning a 
sudden corner of rock, he saw before him a cleft and, beyond that, the more level ground. He 
hastened forward and emerged into the open country.
  Here he paused and, observing to the right, at some little distance, the glow of a fire, he 
turned towards it and soon arrived within the radius of its flickering light.
  Now the scenes he was destined to witness in this land of darkness are such as I 
cannot relate in all the horror of their squalor, blasphemy and shameless impurity. What 
I do give you has been given to me. I have not been there myself. But those who have 
described it as being too intensely wicked and shameful to relate to any, like myself, who 
have not undergone the necessary training for such missionary work as those devoted souls 
undertake for love of their fellow men and women.
   
  What they do give, however, as they tell me, they give with deliberation and with purpose. 
It is that those among you on earth who are living dainty and delicate lives, regardless of their 
obligations to their poorer brothers and sisters, may read what kind of life awaits them soon 
and surely. Selfishness is cruelty; cruelty is a denial of love; and Love is God. That is why 
such as these suffer so terribly when they come over here.
  
  Having quite frankly stated the purpose of those who are giving this to me to hand on to 
you, my friend, I will continue my narrative. Whether those who shall read accept it or reject 
it is not my burden or yours. Write it down as I am able to transmit it to you, toned down and 
modified as it is, both as to its horror and its anguish. Those who are able to receive it will 
receive it. Those who are not able to do so will know some day. This much even I know who 
sign myself 
  - Kathleen. 
  
  At the foot of a high cliff there was a crowd of people gathered in front of a platform of 
rock. It stood about five feet high and was some dozen yards square. On either side there was 
a fire burning which threw the stage into semi-relief. Upon the stage stood a man and woman 
facing the audience. The faces of them both were crafty and cruel, and their restless eyes 
darted glances here and there in never- ceasing motion, as they addressed their audience. One 
would speak a few sentences, and then the other would take up the theme.
  
  Before them the people lay or sat upon the ground listening; and an onlooker might 
observe that, although their faces bore a look of fear, suspicion and apprehensiveness, yet they 
were clearly unable to depart from the spot. It was as if a magnetic bond was about them and 
held them together in sympathetic evil.
  As Paul drew nigh and stood on the outskirts of the crowd, the woman was speaking, the 
man taking up the cue with her alternately thus:
  
   And yet it is not of the scientific of which we would speak to you, but rather of the ideal. 
Science, as you know, is orderly, and this is a disorderly land; that is its glory. For in order 
there is no freedom. Disorder is free. 
   She speaks not of her outer garments, ladies and, in especial, gentlemen - which fastidious 
persons might, quite unjustly, describe as disorderly. It is of the inner of which my sister, my 
wife, or by whatever honourable office you would name her, is seeking to expound to you its 
aesthetic beauty. That is the freedom of which she speaks. 
    p26
  Freedom of mind begets freedom of action and - well, need I say more to the present 
idealistic audience who so well know how that freedom may, or should be, used? 
   And yet, although you know this so well, both in theory and in practice, my confreres, 
example is better than all theory; and there is a newcomer, I have just noted, on whom our 
experiments have not yet been made, and who should afford some fresh points worthy of 
observation. 
  Then the man bowed in Paul's direction and, pointing to him, said,  It is you, sir, whom the 
lady addresses, and you will no doubt observe that it is a lady who addresses you. You will 
not refuse the invitation of so refined and beautiful a creature who, as you observe, is waiting 
to receive your salutation. Come straight hither, sir. The crowd will not mind your walking 
over them. If they do it will not matter. They are used to it - quite used to it, I assure you. 
  
  As this discourse had proceeded, Paul had not failed to mark, beneath the affected 
formality and elegance of address, the underlying note of cynicism and evil suggestion, with a 
sickening sense of nausea.
  But when the man thus addressed him directly, was horror-struck.  For while they had been 
speaking it had come to him with increasing conviction that these two were evil, and 
maliciously evil; also that they were the two dominant spirits of the whole of that company of, 
perhaps, a thousand or twelve hundred souls.
   
  He further realized that he was numbered with them; that he was powerless among them; 
that his once imperious will was turned to water, with no stability in it, and no shape in it, 
now that the vessel which once had held it was removed. It seemed as if, his material body 
and its environment having disappeared, the spiritual body was too weak to contain a 
powerful brain and strong will, whose activity would have shattered it into pieces.
  He, being new to the place and its evil powers, hesitated to obey the summons. On which 
the woman addressed him direct,  Come hither and mount this platform. You have a public 
duty to perform for the benefit of the community into which you are to be initiated. Come, 
and come quickly! 
  
  His last shred of self-respect vanished with the last shadow of his independence as he 
hastened forward and, arriving at the stage, was lifted upon it by those who were nearest. 
They handled him roughly and, as the two speakers. stepped apart from each other, those who 
held him took the obvious hint and literally threw him into the centre of the platform.
  
  I do not give you in detail what then ensued. No publisher would publish it, and no one 
would read it without feeling it was unneedful.  I give you the proceedings in outline merely.
  Paul was informed that he was to play the part of model in an anatomical lecture. That had 
been his line of interest in his earth life, and he would now, no doubt, be not the least 
interested among those who should listen to the wisdom of these two very learned idealistic 
scientists. This was explained to him by three assistants as they stripped him of every rag 
which had clothed him, and bound him naked to a stake which was fixed into the rock a little 
to the rear of the centre of the stage.
  
  Then the lady proceeded to deliver her lecture, while the man illustrated her points, from 
time to time, on the body of Paul. In order to do this he used two tools. One was a sharply-
pointed lancet with a long handle. With this he indicated the precise spot in Paul's anatomy of 
which the woman was speaking. He did this by plunging it deeply into the flesh.
  
  When some internal organ was mentioned he used the other implement This was an 
immense scalpel, with which he cut open the body and laid the flesh aside in order to exhibit 
the organ discoursed upon. In these operations the man and woman took turn and turn about.
    p28
  But while the torture thus inflicted was terrible enough, the fact that, so far from his losing 
consciousness, his intellect became more alert as his bodily suffering increased, added agony 
to agony.
  
  The crowd below frequently cheered the speakers with a weird kind of howling noise, in 
which the note of fear was very easily detected, while the lecturers proceeded with their 
discourse.
  
  The like of it he had never heard before. Every sin in his life seemed to be known to them. 
One after another, they brought them forth and, with ribald words, couched in mock-scientific 
phrases, and with an assumed courtesy, laid bare his innermost thoughts, his secret deeds, sins 
long ago forgotten and, as he had thought, lost in the void of the past. These were now, with 
shameless relish, retailed in detail in his hearing before the public audience who cheered and 
howled.
  
  As each item was reproduced and recited to them, it was explained that these acts were the 
direct result of a certain action of one bodily organ or another, or the combined action of two 
or more. All these points were illustrated by the eager use of the lancet or scalpel.
  
  I leave you to imagine the possibilities inherent in such a subject dealt with by such 
lecturers as these, and before such an audience.
  
  In the end, lacerated and wounded in a hundred places, but without emitting one spot of 
blood, he was carried, still conscious and acutely suffering, to a cave in the cliff. Here he was 
thrown down upon the stony floor and left to recover as he was able.
  CHAPTER 3
  
  AT THE OLD CHATEAU
  
Saturday, February 1st, 1919.   6.10 to 7.20 p.m.
  
  While Paul lay in the cave, thoughts came to him of a kind he had never had before.  His 
recent experiences were such as he had not pictured when, on earth, the life beyond intruded 
itself upon him from time to time. He asked himself now what he had really imagined that 
life would be, or had he ever really believed in the future beyond the grave. In his present 
confused and embittered frame of mind, he could not bring his faculties into focus. He was 
bemused and conscious only of his awful loneliness in the midst of people of whom he knew 
nothing, except that they were cruel and evil. 
  He had not, at that time, grasped the fact that all was the result of perfect order working out 
in sequence of cause and effect. He had lived a life utterly selfish in principle. Now he was 
left with that self for company, and his loneliness emphasized the fact, As he had sowed, so 
he was reaping. That one great fact burned itself into his brain, and he turned from it in his 
utter misery.
  
  He began to speculate on the kind of body it was on which those torturers had wrought 
their will so cruelly. It was too dark to see any wounds, but he felt himself carefully over with 
a practised hand. He found none. His body was whole and unwounded. Yet he had suffered 
intense agony while on the platform, and remembered the grinning crowd and their delight at 
his writhings.
  
  He was suffering still. But it was rather a curious kind of suffering. It was what he would 
have described as bodily, and yet the seat of it was not in his body; it was in his brain.
    p30
  And yet again, was not that the case with bodily suffering in earth life? He theorized on the 
matter and got as far as postulating that the body he now had must be the medium of contact 
between the flesh-body and consciousness.
  He could get no further. He had lost his old strong intellectuality and was fatigued bodily, 
mentally, spiritually. So he lay there helpless, alone, lost in a region shut in on every hand by 
darkness; a land to him unknown and full of terrors.
  He was roused out of his reverie by the appearance of someone standing outside the cave 
entrance. He lay quite still, fearing another monster might be seeking him to his hurt. He 
watched the figure, alert and ready to do battle if necessity should arise. Thus he presently 
saw that it was the figure of a woman, and that she stood with her back to him, looking out 
over the plain.
  There appeared to be no difference between her and the other women he had seen, except 
that her dress reached well below the knees and was a little more full and shapely than those 
others.
  
  Assured he had nothing to fear, he crept slowly and silently to the entrance, and then rose 
and advanced to the right of the woman as she stood there. But although she must have been 
aware of his approach, she made no sign, and continued gazing across the plain, still and 
unmoving.
  
  He advanced a little more until he was able to get a perfect side-view of her face, and 
started back with an exclamation of surprise and pain. It was Monica.*
  He uttered her name in a subdued voice; but she did not answer. He went closer and saw 
that her eyes were full of tears. Then she bent her head and covered her face with her hands 
and wept.
  
   Monica,  he repeated. His voice was subdued. He felt a certain awe in presence of one 
who could weep in that accursed land. 
  So he knelt on one knee, laid his arm across his thigh, with his hand hung downward and, 
bending his head nearly to the ground, instinctively did reverence to this young unhappy girl 
who he had so cruelly wronged.
  
  * MONICA, during her earth-life, was lured into vice by the doctor, and had been in the darkness 
since her passing-Over. At first her agony was sharp, but that soon passed into a state of continuous 
sadness and remorse which, in its turn, blossomed into repentance. Brought by the bright ones into 
contact with Albert, their reckoning with Paul (the doctor) begins at their entrance into his hut. She 
follows Paul into the wilderness, whither he plunges headlong in his defiance. She meets him again 
outside the cave, where he has been flung after torture, and tries to lead him back to Albert. Paul turns 
upon her in a fury and tries to fell her to the ground; but he is forcibly restrained by  Sister,  who takes 
Monica away, and leaves him to his self-inflicted fate. She and  Sister  take charge of the poor 
pantomime, the girl whom Paul brutally kicked insensible.
  
  Presently he heard her speaking.
   Paul,  she said.
  Her emotion was but partly subdued, and her voice was full of sadness. He could not raise 
his face to hers. He felt that, in spite of all the sin she had waded through, yet in her presence 
he was abashed and ashamed, as if he stood, with all his guilt, before the Madonna herself.
  
  But she now turned and came near to him, and stood over him. Thus he noticed that the 
robe she wore was of somewhat finer texture than his own and those of the people he had met. 
Also, unlike theirs, it had no rent and, more noticeable still, it showed a faint narrow hem of 
embroidered bramble with thorns, done in violet.
  
  Beneath this, her feet showed many scars, and her ankles and legs were bruised as if she 
had come on a long journey in a country she did not know, and in the darkness.
  
  His selfish heart lost a little of its great bitterness and resentment with which his late 
treatment had filled him and, in its place, came one tiny ray of pity. He was much surprised, 
moreover, when she spoke again.
  
   Paul,  she said.  I have awaited that. I could not proceed until that came. 
  
  At this he raised his head and asked,  I don't understand. 
  
   No,  she replied;  not yet; but you will some day. Did you not feel just one wee thought 
of kindness as you looked at my poor wounded feet?  And when he made no reply in his 
bewilderment, she continued:
  
   That enables me to proceed with my mission. I came to seek you. 
  
   Me?  That was all he could utter.
   Yes; that is my present mission. I was sent to seek you, and I have found you. I came 
when you were over there. 
  She pointed towards the torture-stage, now forsaken, and seen only in dark outline at the 
foot of the cliff. He glanced that way and asked in a voice full of fear:  Where have they 
gone? 'Where are they now? 
   They have climbed the cliff to what they call their Cathedral. It stands a little way inland, 
on the tableland; and they have gone to hold a Thanksgiving service there. 
   A Thanksgiving service in this accursed land? Why, Monica  he broke off in confusion. 
There was something in the utterance of her name which savoured of sacrilege.
  But she replied:  Yes, call me still Monica, while I have that name. I am told I may have 
another soon, if all goes well - if all goes well,  she repeated, as if lost in meditation and filled 
with a wistful sadness, the reason of which Paul could not understand.
   I was going to ask you what the Thanksgiving is about,  he said.
   You have heard the saying - I will not name the One, Who said it, here and now - that 
there is joy among the Angels over one sinner repentant?  He did not answer, but listened 
eagerly, and she continued,  So also, Paul, the obverse is true: there is fiendish joy when one 
sinner comes to his own place down here, and is annexed by the inhabitants as one of 
themselves. 
  She paused, and he bent his head lower still as she said, very quietly and sadly:  You are 
that sinner, Paul. 
  
Monday, February, 3rd, 1919. 6.10 to 7.28 p.m.
When Paul had thoroughly grasped the significance of her reply, he put to her a question: 
 You mean that there is a Festival to be celebrated in my honour? 
  The state of his mind was, at that moment, a strange one. He loathed the region itself. But 
he felt that here might possibly be a means of at least a partial escape from those terrors which 
he felt around him. He endeavoured to persuade himself that what he had passed through had 
been a kind of test; that he had endured it with at least some credit, and that now these people 
were about to make some amends for his sufferings.
  But his hopes were dashed from him by Monica's reply:  Not to your honour, Paul; but to 
your greater dishonour, unless
   Unless what? 
   Unless you have the will to resist. 
   Monica, I feel that my will has been pulverized. But tell me some more about this affair. 
First, what of the Cathedral you mentioned?  Have you been within it? 
   I have been within the porch; but no further. I once stayed awhile when passing, for I 
heard noises proceeding from the interior, and I wondered what was afoot there. 
   Well, tell me what happened. I want to know more about it. 
   I will tell you as we go on our way. 
   But where do you want me to go? 
   Back to Albert, who is waiting to renew his mission with you. 
   Monica, I would rather go to the devil himself than return to that blithering fool. It seems 
to me I have at least found a chance of something exciting here, and I am not at all sure, now 
that they have got their torture-test over with me, that I shall not be able to make a few friends 
among them. I don't love them, but I think they promise some sport, anyway. 
    p34
  Monica paused awhile and then replied:  Paul, when first I came here, I had thoughts very 
similar to those you have just expressed.  My previous life seemed to urge me to throw in my 
lot with them. But, as I stood at the great door of that Cathedral and watched what was going 
on within, I reasoned it all out, made my resolve and turned away, determined, wherever I 
might have to wander, whatever I might have to endure, to break, once and for all, with those 
poor vile wretches and their evil life.
   Listen. I cannot tell you all I saw there; but I will tell you enough to give you some idea of 
what they do.
   They call it a Cathedral.  It is a very large building, somewhat Gothic in character. But 
there ends all likeness to churches as we knew them on earth. There is an arcade on either side 
the nave, formed by two rows of gigantic carved nude figures, on the one side of men, on the 
other of women.  Their legs extended form the arches. The altar is raised high at the east end. 
It is a large table spread for feasting with some cups, flagons and other vessels.  Here, during 
the so-called service, sit the most powerful of both sexes in the colony. The nave also is filled 
with tables similarly furnished.
   Above the altar is a large Latin Cross inverted. At every Festival they crucify a person on 
that Cross, head downwards. The sexes furnish the victim each in turn. Beneath the table there 
is a door, and a flight of steps leads down into the earth. The passage enters this cave at the 
further end. You did not notice it because the cave itself is deep and the exit to the passage in 
dark shadows. 
  She paused awhile and allowed her companion to think on what she had told him. He was 
silent; so she added,  The last victim was a woman. 
  The truth flashed on him suddenly and, with an oath and cry of fear, he seized her wrist, 
and, in a whisper, inquired:  Do you mean that they will soon be seeking me in this cave for 
their next victim? 
   That is so. That is why they threw you there. 
  In his fright he assumed a threatening manner, and bade her haste to lead him away from 
the vicinity of the cave-mouth to some place of safety.
  She did not reply, but led him along the front of the cliff for some distance, and then turned 
to the right and made for the open plain. They passed between two low hillocks and turned 
leftward where a gully deepened into a ravine along, which he heard the noise of a torrent 
dashing along the narrow bed below the path on which they walked. He could just see her 
robe as she walked a little ahead, and so was able to follow without mishap. At last they came 
suddenly to the open country once again, where the water dispersed itself into streamlets, and 
lost itself in the expanse.
  Here she paused, and Paul said roughly:  Now, look you here, Monica, my girl. You've got 
to get me out of this. I don't mind their way of life so much, if only I can insure myself against 
their cruelty. Now, you seem to know the country fairly well. You've been here longer than I 
have. Show me where I may live without being bullied and tortured, and I'll try to settle down 
till something better turns up. 
   Albert still awaits you,  she said.
  A sudden fury seized him and, with a curse, he caught up a broken branch which lay near 
and rushed upon her, aiming a blow at her head which should have felled her to the ground. 
He was surprised, however, to feel an arm suddenly extended above his head from behind, 
while the hand grasped his wrist and held it immovable in the air; his left arm also being 
seized in a strong grasp, so that he was unable to stir.
  He was held thus for some minutes, his captor preserving silence. At length, trembling 
with fear, he dropped the weapon.  Still he was held in that irresistible grip. Then he felt 
himself being slowly turned about and, at last, released, and face to face with the lady he had 
met in the hut on his arrival -   Sister.  
  
  She looked upon him not unkindly, but sternly and steadily, as she said,  This poor lamb 
has fought the fight of a lion. You helped her, headlong into this region of gloom and sorrow. 
But she has overcome the death which is the portion of those who dwell here, and has begun 
the ascent towards the Borderland, beyond which lies the Land of Lesser Gloom and, beyond 
that, the region of Twilight Brightening into the Dawn. She has a long way still to go, and the 
road is toilsome. But she who won in that hard battle, is able for the journey.
   She was given her choice to proceed, or to linger here. She knew you were coming over 
and, although she has no love for you above others, yet in pity she asked to be permitted to 
wait, if by any chance she might be of help to you, to save you from the worst. That help you 
have refused by your hardness and selfishness. It is but self you consider; you fear for self, 
and seek for self alone.
   Monica has done what she could. She must now leave you lest ill befall her from 
contagion of your company; for she is not immune from temptation yet. Brave as her fight has 
been, and great her victory, it is not final, nor complete.
  
   You now shall find, of your own leading, what way they go who go your way. There are 
those who may be purified only by fire. When you are so purified, I will show myself to you 
again. 
  Then she went slowly and, taking the ample folds of her mantle in her hand, she threw it 
over the head and shoulders of the trembling girl and, putting her arm about her, said softly, 
 Come, dear ; and they departed, leaving Paul once more in solitude.
  
  
  
Tuesday, February 4th, 1919. 5.45 to 7.30 p.m.
  He stood watching them depart into the gloom, and then sat down upon a boulder to think 
on his position. It was a rather hopeless situation in which he found himself. But he had made 
one great discovery.
  He had found that the region was not all black solitude. Parts of it at least were inhabited. 
The people were not altogether desirable. Still, if they could live there, so could he. Further, 
that horrible blackness of hell, that utter, terrible darkness had been left behind, and there 
was a modicum of light; only a little, but that was a relief. And the inhabitants seemed to have 
mastered the problem of adding to it by artificial means; for he had seen fires.
  There did not appear to be any very strict code of law established in that quarter.  But, in 
some respects, that was an advantage. He remembered, with a grim smile, how often, in his 
earth life, he had been compelled to circumvent the law. Monica, for instance. That had been 
irksome. There was to be no more of that kind of trouble now.
  There was one thing he must do, however. He must, at all costs, train himself back into his 
old habit of domination - bullying, if you will. If he could do that, he stood a very fair chance 
of becoming feared, if not respected. Then he would turn the tables on those coarse 
blundering fools. He would become the torturer instead of the tortured. But a refined torturer, 
whose methods should awake admiration by reason of their ingenuity. He rather relished the 
idea as he sat there alone shaping out his future.
  
  He was startled out of his reverie by a noise of singing. He arose, but could not tell from 
which direction it came until he climbed upon the rock on which he had been sitting. Then he 
noticed that, in the plain on the other side of a hillock, which had hitherto shut in his view, 
there was a large mansion. Here and there the windows were lighted, and there were lights 
among some trees which formed a small grove at a little distance from the house. It was part 
of an attempt made by the residents to create a parkland, but the trees were rather bare-
looking, with little foliage, and the gardens overgrown with weeds.
  It was all in keeping with the perpetual twilight in which the whole country was shrouded. 
Nothing could grow to perfection, and the artificial light, however it was produced, was 
everywhere dim and flickering.
  Very cautiously he rounded the hill and made his way towards the company who sat 
beneath the grove. He managed to get within a few yards of them and paused behind the trunk 
of one of the outermost trees to reconnoitre. He saw that there were gathered in a circle a band 
of men and women to the number of a score or so. They were witnessing a performance being 
enacted by a woman who stood on a pedestal about six feet high, placed in the centre of the 
ring. She was enacting the part of pantomime, such as delighted the Romans in the days of 
their decadence.
  So absorbed did he become in the performance that he failed to notice a figure descending 
the flight of steps from the mansion.
  It was a woman long past middle age, but bedecked with tawdry finery and tinsel 
jewellery, and with painted face, and hair done high and tied with bright-coloured ribbons. 
She aped the resilience of youth in her springy walk, and was altogether hideous in her poor 
attempt at grandeur and beauty.
  She did not join the circle, but skirted round it unobserved and came close behind Paul, as 
he stood peering round the tree at the proceedings. Softly she laid her hand upon his arm and 
he started and turned upon her, in doubt as to whether a friend or enemy were at hand. But she 
smiled upon him, and then cast down her glance demurely, as she awaited his salutation.
   Madame Blescombe!  he cried in amazement.*
   *She had, while on earth, kept a gambling club at her Chateau in France, having 
squandered her father's fortune left to her at his death. She had never married, preferring her 
free life of vice and swindling; gambling, blackmail and bribes for various shameful services 
had been her means of livelihood. The doctor was always a welcome guest in her circle. On 
their first meeting in the Borderland he shrinks from her, because the inner woman is revealed 
by her aspect. But after his mad revolt he finds himself in the neighbourhood of her Chateau, 
where, amongst her coterie, she is called  Countess . She welcomes him, and he joins her 
circle of friends. The reasons why she has assumed the title of  Countess  are given by 
 Sister , where other affectations of the mock-genteel order, amongst the members of that 
community, are also explained.
  
   Why, yes; but surely you came hither with intent, did you not? 
   I came here with no intent, Madame,  he said with some severity; for he knew her 
character only too well - as she knew his - and he mistrusted her motive in seeking him now.
   Did you not know, my dear, that this is my Chateau, and these my grounds? Surely my 
friend of old days has come to renew his acquaintance with my hospitality. By the way, I hear 
you have now a new name - the other was not good enough for the society hereabouts. Well, 
my dear Paul, come and I will show you my home - and company. 
   Madame,  he said,  I distrust you. I have reason, as you will understand, if you will 
search your memory. 
   That, my friend, I do not choose to do more than I can help. Now and then it is brought 
back to me - the old life - by such a meeting as this, for example. And while we can meet as 
old acquaintances, yet I am glad to call you by a new name - it serves to veil the past in some 
little measure. For which reason I should take it as a kindness, on your part, if you would call 
me also by the name I bear in this country. 
   And what is that? 
   The Countess; the Countess merely. And now come, and I will do you the honours of my 
poor home. You will understand, my dear friend, that although the house has some pretension 
to dignity, both in size and appointment, yet this country is not a rich one and we all have to 
live in, more or less -  shall I say? -  straitened circumstances. 
  
   At any rate, you will see presently,  she replied, with a mirthless laugh.  Now come; I 
will make you known to these friends first. 
  
  She then hailed those who sat with the others and, with elaborate mannerisms, aping the 
grand mode of the old nobility, introduced him to each member of the circle as she led him 
round.
  
  They were all dressed in rags, but these were so arranged as to parody the ancient style as 
near as possible, and the speech and gestures were suited to their assumed characters. But 
beneath each and every exterior there lay coarseness, sensuality, loutishness, which peeped 
out and betrayed itself in every word and glance, even in those attitudes which they assumed 
in their endeavour after some classical and graceful pose. But all this veneer was in vain. The 
within shone through its outer covering and stood confused.
  
  Last of all, he was led to the pedestal and introduced to the performer. On the advent of the 
Countess, the attention of her audience had been distracted, and she had ceased her posturing. 
She now sat with her feet dangling from the small platform, elbows on thighs, and hands 
quietly clasped between her knees, waiting until the ceremony of introduction was over.
  
  She was looking intently at him as he approached, as if uncertain of his identity. When he 
was within three yards of the foot of the pillar she suddenly realized that she was correct in 
her surmise.
  
  She scrambled up, stood for a moment on the platform to gain her balance, and then leapt 
off her perch, alighting with her heels full in his eyes. The force of her spring bore him to the 
ground, and, before he could rise, she was down upon him, her knees on his chest and her 
nails buried in his scalp, as she bit first his ear, then his cheek, using teeth and nails like a 
frenzied young tiger.
  
  The crowd did not interfere. It was to them merely an interlude, quite impromptu, and 
interesting in its novelty. So they reclined and conversed together, following the details of the 
fight with a languid interest meant to be polite and dilettante.
  
  By and by Paul managed to throw off the girl, and kicked her body some few feet away. 
Seeing she intended to return and renew the fray, he repeated the operation from time to time 
until her naked body rolled beyond the circle and down a small slope into a ditch, where she 
was left to recover alone.
  
  The victor of such a contest, it might be thought, would have displayed some sense of 
shame. Not so. He saw in the faces of his audience what was expected of him and played to 
their lead. He bowed, as a conquering knight might bow who had met his man in the lists.  
And they clapped hands daintily, and applauded him victor.
  
  The Countess sealed their approval by coming forward and apologizing for the ill manners 
of the pantomime.
  
   She is young,  she explained,  and ill used to our society. And,  she added, with a leer; 
 she once was pretty, poor thing. She must have mistaken you, my friend, for someone she 
had met before somewhere-sometime, somehow. 
  
  The three adverbs were spoken with a pause between, each one a poniard of memory 
plunged into the heart of this newcomer, who strode along by her side with proud and defiant 
mien. He had won his footing to their respect and deference, and he was determined to 
maintain it before them all.
  
  Meanwhile the girl lay in the ditch, mud-stained and sobbing in her misery of shame and 
loneliness. The party had gone, and the twinkling lamps, which had decked the trees, were 
out. Distressed and wearied with her hardships and her late exertions, she at last fell into a 
state of coma.
  Then, in the silence there came out of the darkness, which enshrouded the plain, two 
figures. * One held her left hand raised forward, and on the palm was a globe which emitted a 
soft golden light. The other followed where she saw the light lead the way until they came and 
stood over the prostrate form.
   *  Sister  and Monica. 
   
  The leader spoke in sad, quiet tones.  She has suffered enough. The last necessary episode 
has been played. She has met him Monica. We will take the poor erring lamb with us and tend 
her well. 
  She paused and looked wistfully at the form lying there unconscious, and murmured to 
herself,  Yes; of such is the Kingdom, even of such as you, poor fragile flower. You shall 
have careful tending, sweet soiled lily as you are, and you shall be all white once more, some 
day. 
  
  Then she looked up into the blackness above her in silent prayer. And while she prayed 
there came speeding through the air a small company of men whose garments were so 
bright that the gaunt trees of the woods stood out clearly in their rays.
  
  They came swiftly and, before Monica could realize what was happening, both she and the 
girl were taken up and wafted away from the scene. She lost all sense of location. She only 
saw around her a company of strong, good faces and beautiful forms radiant with light which 
was all about her, and in which she travelled as in an enclosed pavilion.
  
  
Wednesday, February 5th, 1919. 6 to 7.20 p.m.
  It is not our intention to pursue the history of Paul as he descended lower into the darkness 
of the hell-world. We have given you enough to indicate, as a sign-post, the way he went; and 
the manner of life there obtaining we have shown you. It is unnecessary and undesirable that 
we should further analyse its ingredients. They are not savoury. It suffices that those who read 
should have knowledge of the broad outlines of life as it is in those regions of gloom. There 
are worse and darker realms than that of which we have spoken. Our object is missionary in 
your world, as our quest has been in this of spirit. If what we have portrayed, eked out by that 
faculty of imagination which all possess in varying measure, has not deterrent force sufficient, 
then the reader would not be bettered were we to dilate on the greater wickedness and horror 
of life in communities of lower grade.
  
  For a long season Paul remained in darkness. He went from one evil state to a worse until 
the limit of his frenzy was bottomed and then, with much travail and agony, he retraced his 
steps to that place where Albert awaited his coming.
  
  But he came a broken soul, all his arrogance gone, all his pride flattened, tired out with 
evil-doing, despair, a gleam of hope, testing, struggling, backsliding, a flicker of sorrow for 
his sinfulness, penitence, more of testing and trying, sacrifice and labour and, at last, return to 
that same dim land from which he had fled, hoping to escape the payment of his debt, the 
reaping of his sowing. 
  Abject he came, at long last, but of more acceptable temper than that with which he first 
had come. Then he came from the environment which surrounds and deludes and blinds so 
many men of talent and riches in the earth life. Now this same man came from the depths of 
that abyss where he had found his real place in God's great family. He came ready to take the 
lowliest position at the feet of one whom once he had treated as a spoil-sport little to be 
accounted of.
  
  (There are a few questions I would like to ask you, Kathleen, if I may. First, I noticed 
a difference in the style of the above from that of previous sittings, I think.)
  
  That may be so. There is no special reason for any marked difference. Sister is taking 
rather more part tonight in the actual transmission of the message. That is all.
  
  (Why is she doing that?)
  
  While the narrative part was in process of transmission, she had to stand aloof more or less, 
in order to get en rapport with those conditions by which she came into contact with the 
events of those darker regions as they stand in our records.
    p44
  She had, as it were, to go there in order that she might, with the help of our little band of 
workers present here, reproduce in your imagination - or what is sometimes called interior 
vision - the scenes which we were at the moment describing. That done, she has been able to 
relax the tension necessary to do that and to turn her mind more wholly on the message itself 
as it is handed on through us to you.
  
  As you seem to be interested in this matter I will put it in another way: Hitherto her back 
has been turned to us and we have seen her face in a mirror. It is that reflection we have 
handed on to you. She has now, for the time being, laid aside the mirror and turned her face 
our way. We give you now, not the reflection of her countenance, but the picture direct. Or for 
 face  you may substitute  mind.  Do we make our meaning clear, my friend?
  
  (Yes; I think you do, Kathleen. But why do you now speak in the plural?)
  
  To continue the use of our image of speech: While her back was turned to us it was 
necessary that our party distribute the work in hand among themselves. Some looked at the 
mirror and read it carefully. Their reading they handed on to another section, turned, half of 
them towards the mirror, and half towards myself. These sent the message to me and I 
transmitted it to you. Now we all face towards you, and Sister is nearer to you and to us than 
she has been hitherto, because she has not to go to that spot where the mirror will catch the 
ray - shall we say the infra-red? - needful for the reading of the records, in order that they 
might, in turn, be read by our band from their reproduction in the varying expression of her 
countenance as seen in the mirror. The mirror shows her the scenes to be described. It shows 
us her countenance.
  (Thank you. I understand this, of course, merely as an analogy. But it helps me to 
understand something of the matter, anyway. Would you, please, tell me who is she of 
whom you have spoken as  Sister ?)
  She is identical with the lady who came to the help of Monica and, with Monica, to the 
rescue of the poor pantomime of whom we told you last night.
  You are wondering after her proper name. We will call her Sister; it will suffice.
  
  I see in your mind another question. I will answer it here. She is one who has charge of 
several Rest Houses on the Borderland between the region of gloom and that of twilight. 
You might, perhaps, call it the entrance-land to the hells; a buffer state, or neutral land, 
between the depths and the surface, but far away from the Summerland withal.
  
  (Are there in your band some who lived on earth a long time ago?)
  No. You ask that because of the old-fashioned wording which slips through here and there 
-  withal,  for instance. As a matter of fact, that does not actually come from this side. We are 
now using what store of words we find in your mind, and that is one which, with others, was 
left over by your previous communicators, some of whom date their earth life some centuries 
ago. Leader is one who does so.. *
   * In  The Life Beyond the Veil,  Vols. I to V
   
  Talking of olden times, why do the people of Madame's Chateau ape the old French 
nobility? Mme. Blescombe could not have been of those times, for you told me she knew 
Paul on earth, and he is evidently modern.)
  
  
  That is so. Sister is taking up the answer in somewhat direct fashion. It is direct through me 
- if that is not a contradiction: - It is not many buildings which stand in that dark world for a 
long time. That Chateau is an exception. Those who founded it were what you would say 
 thorough-going  in their convictions, and they clung to them when they came here. The 
Chateau took on their deportment. Is not that so in your English? My meaning will be clear, I 
trust. So the house stood firm when many who had founded it, and laid out its demesne, had 
departed, some up and a lesser some down. New people come continually. Some pass by. It is 
not to their liking. Some stay and inhabit. Very well. Years pass and the old fashion still 
remains, but lingers, dragging along.
  
  
   
   
   
   as told in the book of Franchezzo, the once  grand castles  are only as ruin-copies on the low astral
   
   
   
   
   
  CHAPTER 4
  
IN THE GREY LANDS
  
Thursday, February 6th, 1919 5.45 to 6.40 p.m.
  
  At the foot of the hills which may be viewed from the borderland between the regions of 
gloom and of the twilight, there is a recess. It runs into the range a little to the right of the cleft 
through which the valley finds exit into the brighter plain beyond.
  
  In this recess there grow large ferns and coniferous trees, not very large, but of more 
comely aspect than those in the Netherlands. Bracken also grows there and, after journeying 
through those tracts of gloom of which we have told you, it is a spot of refreshment and peace 
for the weary ones who progress that way towards the uplands which lie beyond.
  
  In this chine there stands a large Church. It is not of stately aspect, nor is it elaborate of 
design. But it is clean and comely, and within it the light is perpetual.
  
  This light proceeds from a large Cross above the Altar with which those are in contact who 
send their influence across the hills from the colonies on the other side.  In this way the 
interior is illuminated; not equally, for there are patches of shadow at the west end, as you 
would call it, and, here and there, some alcove where those spirits who are still unaccustomed 
to so much radiance even as this may retire for meditation and prayer until they become 
strong enough to join the general congregation.
  
  There are no aisles; it is all one large, open space except for the niches, or alcoves, of 
which I have spoken.
    p48
  There is a Chancel raised a little above the nave and, in the nave itself, some few yards 
from the south side of the Chancel arch, stands a roomy pulpit. There is little more furniture in 
the Church.
  
  (No organ?)
  No, my friend. No music is possible on that side of the hills; conditions do not admit of 
that. You may see for yourself some day. Music is of harmony and well-poised vibration.  
That region is not so far advanced as to provide vibrations of such a character as is 
required for the production of music.
  Nor do the congregation sing. It has been tried a few times when some minister had charge 
of the proceedings who was one of the more progressed; one of the inhabitants of that region. 
But the result was a failure. They did their best, poor things; but the discord was painful, even 
to some of that dull-sensed company. So singing is rarely attempted now.
  The Church is used for instruction and an elementary effort after worship; but teaching is 
the main work which goes on there. That is found more helpful than anything else to those 
who meet from time to time to rest there from their toiling, and to receive refreshment to 
enable them to go forth again in their endeavour to progress away from the darkness toward 
the light.
  Ask your question - or, do not trouble. I see you hesitate; and I know what is in your mind. 
The answer is, Yes; you have helped there yourself on more than one occasion.
  (I can only think of one instance which might be one to which you refer. That was in my 
sleep-time.)
  
  In your body's sleep-time. You do not sleep. You have been there several times; but the 
memory faded on your return to earth-consciousness.
  Do you remember, when you awoke one morning, hearing a long-drawn, weird and 
wailing Amen?
  (Yes; I shall never forget the awful hopelessness of that Amen.)
  That was a second instance. I can well enter into your description of it. But had you heard 
some of the sounds which torment the ear in the deeper hells you would be able to detect in 
that Amen more than one ray of hope.
  
  Again, do you remember a friend writing to you to say she had met with a minister on one 
of her journeys into those grey lands?
  
  (Yes.)
  
  You were there at work when she saw you. That makes three times.
  
  (On the occasion first referred to, I was in the pulpit teaching them the truth about the 
Apostles' Creed, I remember. But the whole Church was in gloom except for a few yards 
around the pulpit. Yet you say the light in that Church is perpetual.)
  
  On that occasion the light from the Altar was shaded, or, more properly speaking, 
suppressed, for the time being, so that the congregation might be the less distracted from you 
and your teaching. Nor was it re-illumined for some time after you had been called away 
again; or that would have driven much of your sermon from their minds. They are of so feeble 
a character that it is necessary to deal most carefully with them; so frail are they in their hold 
on anything elevating. So the Church was kept in semi-darkness until they had dispersed.
  
  At certain rare intervals those who are ready to make their journey through the Gate into 
the uplands beyond are brought together there. Then the building is illuminated to its full 
capacity, and one from a higher sphere comes and stands in the Chancel, and his own native 
light helps the brightness of the place. He speaks to them lovingly and helpfully, and they get 
their first glimpse of what the people are like who live beyond the hills, and among whom 
they themselves will one day be numbered.
  The beauty of such a visitor is a great joy to them, and they gaze on his form as if he were 
a god, instead of an angel from one of the lower Heavens.
  
  Sometimes the angel is of one sex, sometimes of the other, according to the company there 
assembled, and the nature of the work in hand. If the majority are women the angel is usually 
one of the Mothers who have charge of the Rest Houses, or the Children's Homes.
  
  On these occasions, as on all in that Church, proceedings are quite informal. There is no 
ritual there; and speaking on the part of the congregation is not only permitted but 
encouraged. Especially are they enticed to ask questions. Methods have to be adopted to the 
low status of those who form the assembly.
  
  At our next meeting I wish to tell you of one of these services. It is with that intent I have 
given you this description to-night.
Friday, February 7th, 1919. 5.45 to 7.20 p.m.
  The congregation was a larger one than usual, for word had gone forth that there would be 
present no less than three visitors from beyond the hills. I will describe the service briefly; it 
will give you an idea of what is the highest form of spiritual exercise in that drear land.
  Before the Altar stood an old, venerable-looking man. His beard was white, and reached to 
the girdle encircling his long robe of a colour which I would describe as deep cream colour. 
That is as it appeared to the audience. None of the visitors, as they manifest themselves in 
those regions, are seen by the inhabitants in their normal condition, either as to form, 
features or clothing. You must bear in mind that the account I now give you is from the 
viewpoint of the congregation, as they saw things; as they were meant to see them.
    p52
  To the rear of him, on the north side of the Altar, stood a young woman, in garments of 
like material and, over them, a mantle. Similarly attired was another woman, a little older, 
who stood on the south side of the Altar. On the Altar itself stood a model of a dwelling-
house.
  The Missioner, by which name we will call the old man, spoke to the congregation in this 
wise:
   You may be glad, my children, that you have so far progressed as to be able to come 
together like this to meet us who have journeyed from beyond the Gate. You are not so far 
from that Gate yourselves at this moment and, when you have worked a little longer, and are 
able to remain in such nearness permanently, then we will see if it is not possible to lead you 
through to the other side.
   Meanwhile, I have a few rather interesting things to show you. I brought them with me for 
that purpose, so that you would be able to picture for yourselves, to a certain degree, what life 
is like there.
   I can assure you it is well worth working for, very well worth it. Even just a short journey 
from the Gate the people have houses like this and, mark you, many of those people have 
come, not direct from earth life, but from this land where you now live. This is not a very 
happy country to live in, is it? Ah well, never mind that; live in the future, and you will soon 
be able to go yonder and, after a time, to come back and help your mates whom you have 
left behind.
   
   Now, isn't that worth a bit of patience and endeavour? 
   Yes, it is!  shouted out a man in the congregation.
   Damn well worth it, too!  added another, more enthusiastic.
   Very well,  continued the Missioner.   Now, that's the sentiment I want to see universal 
among you-unanimous. I'll tell you why. Those two brothers have shown by their words a 
very decided streak of altruism.  Now, there must be some here who remember what altruism 
means. 
  There was a pause of silence when this invitation was given while the audience did a very 
strenuous bit of mental exercise. 
  
   Now let me digress here a little in order to explain. Many in that crowd, when in the earth 
life, were men and women, not only of refined tastes, but of considerable culture. Let me tell 
you a few who may, or may not, have been there on that occasion, but whom I knew as 
inhabitants of that region, and who have been, from time to time, to one of the gatherings held 
in that Church.  Some have now progressed; others are there still.
  Here is a short list: A financier who dealt with millions sterling; a colonel of cavalry, with 
a country seat ancient and beautiful; a doctor of divinity; three doctors of medicine; a lady 
who had a fine mansion a few miles out of town, and whose town house was the centre of 
politics and art; she was one of the leaders in a philanthropic effort to raise a fund for the 
building of a sanatorium for indigent society people; a millionaire who left many large 
bequests to charity; a number of lesser lights in earth life, but intelligent, educated people.  In 
addition to these, rulers and princes are there, and legislators, some still remembered and 
honoured by the people of earth.
  To such as these the Missioner spoke in simple terms such as would be suited to a Sunday 
School class of junior children, and yet keeping in mind ever as he spoke, the experiences 
through which they had passed.
  The truth is these people had, while on earth, spent their time in assimilating the wrong 
kind of knowledge, or knowledge employed in wrong ways, or from wrong motives. Their 
refinement also had been outward and not spiritual refinement, which is saintliness. The 
consequence was that when they cast off their earth bodies and came over here, they found 
themselves as little children in real knowledge - for they had to begin to unlearn nearly all 
they had counted worth knowing - in body weakly and unsightly, and in mental endowment 
bemused and bewildered.
    p54
  When they had somewhat recovered from their initial perplexity, some were of such strong 
character that they were able to do one of two things, according to their choice: either to face 
the situation honestly and admit their errors with more or less humility, or to adopt an attitude 
of defiance, and deliberately set themselves to become great in evil.  These latter eventually 
become the rulers of the dark regions. (as told in the part2-3 in the book A WANDERER IN THE 
SPIRIT LANDS of Franchezzo, taken down thru A.Farnese for ca 120years ago link)
  
  Those who choose more wisely, are helped in their endeavour to banish what store of 
knowledge they have into the background of their minds - until, having progressed 
sufficiently to be beyond the probability of backsliding, they are gradually encouraged to 
bring it forth again, viewed now in right perspective and motive.
  There are, however, no cast-iron rules in the matter. Everyone is endowed with free will, 
which is never taken away; and, if the will be free, you cannot bind it by rules and 
regulations.
  
  What I have given you above, therefore, is the general condition of affairs in which, from 
time to time, exceptional cases arise and set all precedents awry.
  When the Missioner mentioned the word  altruism  he was applying this principle to his 
hearers. The word lay in the back of the brains of not a few but, between it and the present 
moment, there lay a whole series of bitter experiences in the hells, which had obliterated their 
earth life from their memories; for there is no altruism in the deeper hells. Now it was being 
called forth, here and there a little; and not so much or so vividly as to create a danger of 
relapse
  very real danger at that stage of progress, and a difficulty perpetually present in the mind 
of those who work among them.
  
  To return to the Church. One arose and, with an air of pride, gave an explanation of the 
word. The Missioner took it up and skilfully used it in his teaching. Then he pointed to the 
model of the house of which he had spoken previously, and which was standing upon the 
Altar.
  He told them that the house was such as they would inhabit when they had made the next 
stage of their journey toward the land of brightness. There were many homes like it, some 
already completed, others nearing completion, and which would be ready before his hearers 
were, so that they would be able to take up their abode in them when they arrived.
   Who builds them?  cried one of his hearers. This was what the speaker had been angling 
for, and immediately he seized his opportunity.
   Well,  he said;  there are several classes of people who build those houses. But the 
delightful thing about it all is that they do not build them for themselves. They have their own 
houses to live in - and, between their other regular duties, they employ their spare time in 
erecting these for you. That is really what came to my mind when the brother yonder uttered 
his exclamation.
   These builders find some of their greatest pleasure in that same altruism, as these houses 
bear witness. The longer they live in their bright land the more they realize the pleasure of 
doing something for others who, as they know, will not be able to repay them.
   Of course, I need hardly mention Who it was Who taught that, both by His life and words. 
So these friends come towards your country, until they arrive beyond the Gate there, and there 
they do a spell of building, and return home, to come again when they have a bit of leisure. 
   Damn good sort they must be, too!  cried out the enthusiast who had spoken before. He 
stood up to make his remark the more emphatic. Just in front of him was a woman who had 
not lost her veneer of affected puritanism. She turned, looked at him and very markedly 
turned back again and settled herself down, with a shrug of the shoulders which was very 
significant of her disdain.
    p57
  The man, who was bubbling over with eagerness, had looked at her with a delighted grin 
upon his face, expecting her approbation. But he saw her disgust and, in doubt as to what had 
happened, looked from her to the Missioner, like a perplexed schoolboy, his smile becoming 
uncertain, and then flickering away.
  Seeing the whole episode, the Missioner said,  I fear, my friend, you were rather emphatic, 
and that lady was a wee bit startled.  Your words were somewhat spontaneous, weren't they?  
But the sentiment itself was such as to do you credit. I would like to talk it over with you after 
our meeting, if you will walk a little way with me toward the Gate as I return. You will not be 
able to go very far, I think. We shall see, anyway. But I do think you will be able to go farther 
than you have done before. And I am wondering if I might not perhaps manage to show you 
just a glimpse of those houses in the distance. 
  The smile had returned to his face once more, and he replied;
     Well now, that's what I call real kind. And, Missioner - not to interrupt you too long -
what about her? It mightn't do her any harm if she could come and have a look at them -
brighten her up a bit, so to speak. 
   Well, your thought is a kindly one; but I fear she could not bear the journey yet awhile. 
After a little, perhaps; but not just yet.
   But I may add this: I think I shall not have much difficulty, after all, in taking you where 
you will get a very good view of those brighter homes. 
  
Monday, February 10th, 1919. 6.10 to 6.50 p.m.
  
  The man who had created this diversion was a horse breeder in a large way in the earth 
life, a man of great wealth. To see him now, his friends of those old days would have been 
somewhat surprised. He turned about and surveyed the audience with a smile and the attitude 
of a pleased schoolboy.
  Then he sat down well contented. He was of a nature unprogressed rather than malicious - 
a low type of the human species. There are many such. They do not descend to the lower 
hells on leaving the earth. They just go to their own place; which is where we have seen 
him, on the borderline between light and shadow.
  
  Here they are very unhappy for a time, but the same lack of spiritual conception which 
places them there, acts also as a counter-irritant. They soon begin to adjust themselves to their 
environment, and find more or less of ease because it is in sympathy with their own character. 
So long as there is no active hatred, or other wickedness in their hearts, they make progress, 
slowly but steadily, and in that find satisfaction.
  
  They are incapable of any great good or any great evil. They are, of course, of higher 
intelligence and spiritual content than even the highest of the animals; but they are among the 
least developed of humankind.
   They may have been sharp-witted enough in earth life to have grown rich. That, however, 
avails them here very little; and I have known a definitely wicked man; - once he has paid his 
debt in the darker hells, repented and turned toward the light, to make more rapid progress 
than such as these.
  
  An intelligent horse, with his many endearing qualities, has much in common with the 
nature of such as he of whom I have just spoken. Indeed, it was that fact that first turned him 
towards that animal in affection and, later, enabled him to convert his affection into much 
gold.
  
  The Missionary resumed his address, his theme being the brighter conditions of life beyond 
the hills - towards which he endeavoured to lure them. With this object in view, he exhibited 
to them the articles which entered into the life of that land.
  
  He showed them baskets of fruit which grew in the more advanced provinces of that 
region, books which were written by spirits in the spheres beyond, but made and bound there 
in the Land of the Dawning, pictures of scenery, and of ceremonies enacted there.
  All these he used as models in an object-lesson very skilfully; answering their questions 
with patience and geniality. They thoroughly enjoyed it, and, when the time came to disperse, 
and then only, did he touch on a deeper theme. He asked them to kneel while he made a short 
simple prayer, and then dismissed them with his blessing.
  While they were dispersing he conversed with the two women who had stood by the Altar 
during the meeting. Presently one turned aside and left the Chancel by a side-door, returning 
shortly with Albert. To him the Missioner said a few words, and he left the Church by the 
great door through which the congregation had made their exit. In a few minutes he returned, 
with another man whom he led up the nave and placed before the Missioner.
  
  This man was Paul, but greatly changed. His face was furrowed and full of sorrow; but 
there was no longer arrogance there, nor frenzy. These had given place to despair, and utter 
prostration of mind which, at this time of his return, was just giving place to humble, almost 
pathetic, dependence on the guiding of others.
  
  He had gone from one madness to another more mad, and had drunk to the dregs, the bitter 
cup of his defiance of the good. At last he had found that nothing there availed to satisfy his 
innermost nature, and he began to weary of the horrible life of the hells, and then to long for 
respite from the continual torture it inflicted.
  
 
  
  At last a glimmer of light entered into his soul. He seized and held on to the gleam, and, at 
the proper time, help came and he was guided by some invisible influence to the place where, 
at the head of the valley, Albert awaited him. He was lodged in the same hut to which he had 
been assigned on his first entrance into spirit life, and it was from that lodging he had now 
been brought.
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tuesday, February 11th, 1919. 550 to 6.50 p.m.
  Paul knelt before the steps at the top, of which stood the Missioner, and buried his face in 
his hands, with his forehead upon the ground. For a time they remained thus, Albert standing 
beside his charge.
  
  At last the old man spoke in a voice at once soothing and invigorating:  My son, you have 
paid some of your debt due to your own highest nature. I want you to know that. It is not to 
God to Whom you have made recompense. We who come from the brighter spheres, know 
only a little of Him Who in Himself encompasses infinitude. But we have learned so much as 
to know this at least: that it is not possible to make recompense to Him of Whom is all that is, 
and we His children. That were presumption. As you go from one form to another higher in 
the school of instruction, you will come to understand that nought else would avail, other than 
that you have endured, if you would one day come to be truly yourself as you are potentially 
even now.
  
   Know this also; that you who have learned humbly through great pain and anguish of evil, 
are capable of endeavours as great in the service of the Good. For to you have been given 
such talents as are not found in the characters of many who pass through this twilight land.
  
   It is therefore I may speak to you as I may not speak to those who have but lately listened 
to me here in this place so gladly. They are young children in capacity, and so must be dealt 
with in tenderness. You are of other sort, and I speak to you as man to man. Rise to your feet, 
my brother, for it is time for you to put out your strength for the work you have to do. 
  
  For some short time Paul knelt in silence. Then slowly he arose and stood before the 
Missioner, who continued,  So intense has been your suffering that, in your fight to become 
freedman, you have not noted the changed aspect which has come upon you. When first you 
entered this life of spirit, you were small of stature.  Compare now your height with that of 
Albert. 
  
  Paul, who was standing side by side with his companion, turned and looked at his shoulder, 
for he was still ashamed to look upon his face. This doing, he found that himself was but a 
little shorter in stature, and that his limbs were almost as well developed. Then he raised his 
eyes to his face - greatly daring, and yet afraid. But when he saw that face brightened with a 
smile of glad joy and forgiveness, he could forbear no longer. Slowly he turned to him; slowly 
he raised his hands and laid them one on each arm; slowly he slid his hands up to his 
shoulders and, bending forward, laid his head, as a tired child would do, upon the bend of 
Albert's neck, and fell to weeping.

  Albert did not stir, but let him rest while the old man looked upon them in silence; into 
whose eyes there came a gleam of great love, as a mother looks upon her babe asleep, and 
stirs not lest she awakens him out of his dreaming.
  
  At last Paul drew apart and raised the left hand of the other to his lips, holding it there for a 
moment; then he quietly released it, turned to the Missioner and awaited his further direction. 
No words were spoken between the two friends; both understood, and all was well.
  Then the old man spoke again,  And now, Paul, you shall go forth with your friend, who 
will instruct you where you next shall go, and also of your first duties. May our Father give 
you His strength, for it is His work you have to do. 
  
  So they went down the nave and into the open, and here they turned to the right and 
walked along the path which led to the road. This was the highway of the Valley. It passed 
through the distant group of huts where Paul's lodging had been, traversed the Valley and, 
passing through the Gate of the Hills, emerged into the Land of Dawn beyond.
  Neither spoke as they went and, when they reached this highway, they paused, still full of 
thought, and silent. Paul waited for his friend to lead the way; but Albert stood there waiting 
also.
  
  At last, seeing the other in doubt which way to go, he said,  Well, Paul, my friend, which 
way-left or right? 
  
  His companion looked to the left, which led to the settlement from which he had come; and 
to the right, where the brighter glow came from beyond through the Gate, and touched the 
hilltops on either side of it.
  
  At last he turned to Albert and said,  Once I essayed this road before-and lost myself in the 
awful darkness. It was in defiance of your advice I went that time. I failed to reach this far. I 
must have turned off somewhere soon after I left you, and strayed into the bylands. But this 
time you have brought me safely almost to the Gate itself. We came at great speed also. 

   And do you think you are able to continue onward through the Gate and endure the 
greater light beyond? 
  
   I will do my best-if you will lead me, Albert,  he replied.
  
  So they turned to the right, and along the broad highway. And as they went, the light 
became more mellow and, when they entered the pass between the hills, there were small 
shrubs and mosses and, here and there, a little rill beset with ferns. No stately trees were there, 
no beautiful flowers, but it seemed to Paul, after his long sojourn in those deep hells, as if the 
Gate they were approaching, must be that of Paradise, and the road they trod the Avenue of 
Bliss.
  
   
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
THE LAND OF THE DAWNING
Thursday, February 13th, 1919. 5.50 to 6.40 p.m.
As they proceeded, the cliffs which bordered the highway on either hand took on a more 
verdant aspect The vegetation which grew there became of a more luxuriant kind, and the 
light brightened with every step of the way.
  
  At last they came in view of the Gate itself, through which they would pass into the 
brighter country beyond. It stood at the top of a rise in the road, and, as they went, they could 
see only the hills which lay at a great distance from the Gate itself. Of the intervening land 
they could see nothing.
  
  While they were still some few miles away, Albert said to his companion,  Paul, I have 
been to yonder Gate once before and was enabled then to take a view of the country beyond. I 
was then still unfitted to travel further. They who keep the Gate told me I should pass through 
when another should come with me. Meanwhile I was enjoined to be careful of my progress 
in order that, when the glad time came, I should be able to spare a little strength for my friend, 
who would not be quite so strong as L Then we should be enabled to pass the Gate together. 
Let us rest awhile, and then we will continue our journey onward. 
  
  So they found a mos-grown ledge of rock, and sat down side by side together. Paul was 
very happy in anticipation, but a little excited, and even disturbed, in mind, because of the 
uncertainty of his ability to adjust himself to the new conditions which awaited him beyond 
the brow of the hill, where stood the Gate
  
  62
  of the Pass. So they sat in silence. And as they sat there Paul put out his hand and, taking 
that of his friend, laid it on his knee and held it there beneath his own. Albert felt the pressure, 
and it expressed a sense of growing humility and gratitude on the part of Paul. And as they so 
continued they grew together in affection; all enmity had departed and forgiveness on the part 
of the one responded gladly to the silent entreaty of the other. So absorbed were they that they 
did not notice the approach of a woman from the direction of the Gate until she paused and 
stood before them.
  As they lifted their eyes, she said,  So I have found you as I had been hoping to find you, 
my two poor sufferers. But that is over now, and peace has followed hard upon the heels of 
reconciliation. You notice the results, do you not? 
  They looked at her in surprise, not understanding her. Then she laughed gladly and right 
heartily, as she stepped forward and, taking each by the arm, raised them to their feet and 
turned them about to confront each other.
   There,  she said.  Now what do you think? 
  They had both continued to gaze upon her in their surprise at her coming, and doubt as to 
her purpose. Still looking inquiringly into her face, Paul said,  Sister, I am thinking that, for a 
young woman, your grip is only equalled by the quality of your muscles. 
  At this she laughed the more, and addressed the other:
   Albert, my son, cannot you find something to say just a little more to the point than your 
friend's remark? 
   Well,  replied Albert,  he is certainly right, Sister, and I can quite understand Paul's 
surprise. You see, he interprets your age and experience by your appearance, which is that of 
quite a young girl. He is not aware how long you have been here, nor the fact that your proper 
Home is some spheres beyond. That is why he is surprised at your strength. 
  
  p64
  
   My good friends,  she answered,  what dullards you both are! Look at each other, and not 
at me, and tell me what,- oh, at last you catch my meaning. Well? 
   Sister,  answered Albert,  I can scarcely put it into words, but certainly Paul's dress has 
changed since we came from the Church yonder. 
   Yes,  she replied;  I was much amused that neither of you had noticed it. Let me explain 
to you. You did not imagine you could enter into respectable society in the rags you wore 
over there, did you? I want you to realize that beyond the Gate the people are quite different 
from those among whom you have lived hitherto. The dress you at present wear consorts with 
theirs, and you will be able to mix with them now on equal terms. 
   What made them change like this?  inquired the still perplexed Paul.
   They have been changing ever since you made your decision when, on coming to the 
highway, you took your courage into your hands and turned hitherward. As you go forward on 
your way from strength to strength you will learn that the clothes you wear express the 
correspondence you are able to make to your environment. That is the scientific way to speak 
of it.
   In other terms I would express it thus: Your robe is made of the vital exhalations of your 
individuality and embroidered with your aspirations after further holiness. The present result 
is the effect of the climax you have attained as you came on this last journey of yours; the 
crown of your repentance and endeavours after the good.
   But now we must be going, for friends await you a little way ahead, and will be hardly 
patient of our delay if we tarry further. Let us go forward together. 
  
Friday, February 14th, 1919. 5.55 to 7.0 p.m.
  The Gate stood on the brow of the hill up which the road mounted from those darker 
regions which lay
  away to the west. As the roadway rose towards this gap the cliffs fell away until, when the 
Gate itself was reached, there was but a wall of rock on the north side of the highway some 
five or six feet in height.
  
  On the south side stood a bluff, about a hundred feet high. But when the Gate was passed 
this ceased, for the road here gave on to an open stretch of parkland which dipped down to a 
valley. Through this valley a broad river ran from the north and wound round into the hill 
country, disappearing among the woods which grew right up to the rocky boundary as it 
stretched away on either side of the Gate.
  
  The Gate itself was simply the gap formed by the rocky walls of the highway. But it was 
flanked on either hand by a high to~er where watch was constantly maintained. The object of 
these Watch Towers was two-fold. That on the south stood on the summit of the bluff, and 
was in touch with the far-stretching region of the Land of the Dawning, and also with that 
smaller hilly shire which lay between it and the Church to the west and south.
  
  The other kept watch over the highway, and also those dark regions which stretched away 
to the north and west, where Paul had wandered for so long a season.
  This is by far the larger of the two structures, and the work which is done there is very 
strenuous, and not a little difficult. Of all the millions who inhabit those drear lands below, the 
history and present location of each is registered. So it is known what help is needed in any 
district, and also the most competent way in which such help can be given. It was from this 
Tower that Sister was summoned when she was sent, at one time to the help of Monica, and at 
another time to the Château.
  
  (Do you mean that the Tower is in touch with all the hells, however deep?)
  
  No, no. There are other stations in the further regions of anguish; and those are in contact, 
not with either of these Towers, but with Councils of very powerful Officers in the Higher 
Spheres.
  
  The work here is just local, and concerned only with the region of which we have written. 
It is a very extensive one, nevertheless, and has a large, if mosfly scattered, population.
  
  (Any towns?)
  
  No; those are further ~way, and in a still darker sphere. In this land of gloom there are 
communities, some numbering a few hundreds, others a dozen or so. But there are no large 
towns.
  
  (Why?)
  Because here the people are varied in character in a greater degree than is the case with 
those who gravitate lower and further away. This is, as you would probably describe it, one of 
the upper hells. It is where those go who are bad, but who have in them such redeeming 
features as will enable them to turn towards the light without the necessity of still more deeply 
descending into the darkness.  The more pronouncedly evil go further away and, because 
there is not so much mixture of good with the evil in them, they are able to band together-to 
pool their wickedness; perhaps you will understand what I mean.
  
  But here the blends of good and evil in the individual soul vary so much in the nature and 
proportion of the ingredients that they find little material of so substantial a nature as to make 
co-operation possible. So, instead of eternities, these people spend but a few years in this 
region. That suffices for what amount of frenzy there is in them to make its folly manifest; 
they tire of it all, become utterly weary, and begin to long for better things. Paul and Albert 
are good examples of the class of whom I speak.
  
  (How long do the people remain there?)
  
  I speak, of course, according to your earth time, as I have spoken of the locality in terms of 
the
  compass. Their probation usually lasts from one to seven or eight years. Some have been 
there a hundred years, or even longer. But such cases are rare in this particular country. In the 
lower hells there are those
  who have been there for thousands of years.   WI'en~ eventually they are rescued they do 
not pass through ~ this district. They go by another way.
  
  But we have spoken enough of the darkness. Let us turn now to the Dawning.
  Paul was lost in admiration of the scene before him. There were islands dotted about the 
river's course on which were kiosks and summer-houses, and on one larger island a music 
pavilion. Here was an orchestra which made music that floated over the lawns and flower-
gardens and houses, and bathed all in a flood of melody. It brought a sense of restful content 
to the two weary newcomers who stood there rapt in ecstasy. So great was the contrast, and so 
sudden had it been sprung upon Paul, that he forgot his companions and stood rapt in silent 
wonderment.
  
  At last his lips moved, as to himseJf he murmured,  Yes, God lives. 
  It was the first time that Name had been on his lips since he had left the earth life. He 
paused for a few moments, still in a deep rapture of solemn meditation; then added:  -and 
loves. 
  Then he remembered he was not alone, and, as he turned to Sister, she noticed there were 
tears in his eyes.
   Paul,  she said,  you are thinking this is Heaven. My poor tired friend, to you it must 
seem so. But, believe me, this is not even Paradise. It is but the Land of the Dawning. The 
light to you here is mellow, and the air is full of peace. But over yonder hills there are 
beauties far greater than any you see here. This is but a resting-place for pilgrims such as you. 
It is not your Home. 
   Do you live here, Sister? 
   No; no one lives here permanently. They rest, and pass on to brighter places beyond the 
hills; or wait here for some friend with whom they may journey onward in company.
  
   Now let us go down towards the Gardens, and I will introduce you to some of those we 
shall find there. 
  They descended and, at the foot of the rise, they found a large stretch of parkland and 
gardens intermingled. There were lawns, groves, arbours, beds of flowers, and wild flowers 
growing among the trees and in the wooded vales; rills of water also where ferns grew and, 
here and there, a dwelling-house.
  
  They turned down a by-path, in the wood, which was flanked with thickly-growing bushes 
on either hand. Suddenly they found themselves opposite an open pavilion, which stood back 
a little from the road, with a path, a few yards in length, leading up to its open entrance.
  Here Sister paused and bade the two men wait while she went within. When she returned, 
she led by the hand two women, who came forward with radiant faces, and took each her 
husband within her arms.
  
   And now,  said Sister,  go forward together. The light brightens over the horiwn yonder. 
Peace lies beyond the hills, and there I will meet with you once again.
  
  THE END.
  
  
From all Blindness of Heart; 
from Pride, 
Vain-Glory and Hypocrisy;
from Envy, Hatred and Malice, 
and all Uncharitableness, 
Good Lord, Deliver Us.


Anglican litany.


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