COMMUNICATIONS FROM THE DRUNKARD, A MISER, WILLIAM GAILARD,
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON, WILBERFORCE, TECUMSEH, A SUICIDE.

On May 25, 1882, came the following communication from a spirit, who declined to give his name, for reasons which he claimed to be prudential and personal to himself. It is here given in his own words:

“The band of spirits who have this medium in charge, together with other exalted ones and one who is co-operating with them temporarily, have not only allowed, but invited me, unworthy as I am, to come and tell my story. It is a short and terrible one, and in deep sorrow and humiliation I proceed to tell it.

“I was called, and justly so, a drunkard. By nature I was blessed with a strong and robust constitution, and I was, what is too often a curse, the child of wealthy parents. My father was rich, and this circumstance proved my ruin. I was nursed in the lap of luxury, never knew what it was to want, and consequently had no sympathy for those that suffered, or those immersed in the fierce struggles of poverty. I disdained to work with my hands for bread, and knew not the hardships and sorrows of the toiling millions. My brow was never moistened by the sweat of labor, and I grew up in the belief that the poor were intended and purposely created to serve the rich, and were deserving of naught but a bare scanty subsistence. My life of indolence and ease, my uninterrupted hours of leisure, produced their inevitable fruit in their accompaniments of vice and immorality. Idleness, as I now know, is the parent of vice, and riches too frequently constitute the propagating life germs of wickedness. It was sadly true in my unhappy case. Oh, fathers, mothers, heed my warning counsel: Train your children to labor—to work, work, work. Allow but few idle hours for dissipation and vice. Keep them away, if possible, from the club room, where intoxicating beverages are indulged in and made inviting by temptation, and where lascivious conversations only tend to stimulate and develop the lower passions and propensities of their natures. Wine, fair to look upon and with frequent imbibations exhilarating, contains within its alluring embrace a terrible lurking serpent whose venomous sting is fatal to all that is noble, grand, and holy. It strikes, figuratively speaking, its poisoned teeth into the very vitals of our being, and the effect follows us to the other life with its terrible retributive vengeance. Oh, pity the poor inebriate, and erect all possible barriers against the terrible ravages of the fell destroyer.

“The Drunkard.”

A MISER.

April 24, 1882, came the following:

“I am permitted to come to you to-day to relate something of my history. There is a twofold purpose in my visit. I am told that this will greatly benefit me as a spirit still bound to my idol—gold—and that I may be instrumental in warning others to avoid my condition.“I lived in the flesh more than three score years and ten, and when I laid down to die the only thing I regretted leaving was my gold and hoarded wealth. Oh, I thought, if I could only take it all with me how happy I would be. The world said I was a noble man, because being avaricious and greedy, I was successful in acquiring riches. My nobility of character was measured entirely by my ability to accumulate money and property. I want to publish it to the world that money, stocks, and landed estates, are poor capital to bank on in the spirit world. They will do here, and as the world goes, will make you respectable, your society and influence coveted and all that, but you need a different kind of capital on this side of life. Gold here has great purchasing power. It buys the luxuries of life, it even buys honor, virtue, and innocence, at a fearful sacrifice and cost to others, but its power, except its terrible evil following, ends with your life in the body. Nothing but good deeds, noble charities, and upright living pass current in the land of souls. I was a miserable, soulless miser, and my occupation and delight consisted in adding to my coffers, and in this endeavor I forgot and ignored conscience and every thing in the pathway of the pursuit of my idol.

“I belonged to a fashionable church, owned a pew, attended the services, and flattered myself that this was all that was needful to prepare my soul for happiness in the other world. No appeals of charity were ever strong enough to touch my sympathies or open my purse strings. The tears of the widow, the wails of the orphan, or the cries of the suffering, however piteous, never touched my heart or obtained from me a single penny. I stinted myself and family and contributed nothing towards the relief of want and suffering, for I was so completely enslaved by the accursed love of and passion for money. This is a humiliating confession to make, but it is, alas, for my happiness, too true. I tell you money has been my curse, and oh, how terribly have I suffered. Years upon years have rolled by, and I have only partially paid the penalty of my folly. No wonder the rich man wanted some one to go back and tell his brethren of his fate. I hope I may hereby be the humble instrument in warning others against the pitfall into which I have fallen. My gold came up before me here to greet my fond gaze, and when I would joyously reach out for it, behold it would elude my grasp, thus teaching me that it had no real existence except as the haunting specter of my unholy life struggle for its possession. The light of redemption now begins to beam upon me, flooding my soul with its bright rays of hope. I feel this will do me good, and I am very thankful for the opportunity. Let me be simply known as

“The Miser.”

WILLIAM GAILARD.

William Gailard was an old personal friend, and the first one who called my attention to the subject of Spiritualism. He had been a Swedenborgian, and at times had officiated as a preacher in England before he came to the States. At a sitting with Mrs. Green, June 2, 1882, I was pleased to receive the following communication from him:

“My old friend, Mr. Helleberg. I know you have been waiting and wanting to hear from me, and I have been just as anxious to respond. Here in the spirit world we have order and system, and each one must bide his time. My time has come to speak a few words to you, and I assure you, my dear old friend, I seize the opportunity with pleasure I can not fully express.

“I remember that the new light of spiritual truth came to me first, and I was the humble instrument in the hands of higher intelligences to assist you in obtaining it. I was a medium for exalted spirits to lead you and others into the light, and that for a great and noble purpose, for way back to that time the plans were laid for the work in which you are now engaged so nobly and fearlessly. You are also, my dear friend, a medium, for it is true that all persons whom spirits can influence, however unconscious it may be to themselves, are mediums in the true sense of the word.

“You are helping others to grow and expand in spiritual knowledge, and you will be astonished when you come over to look back and see the work you have done, and to receive the plaudit, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ I have been blessed beyond measure for the little I was enabled to do, but your reward will be greater than mine. Your opportunities were greater and you cheerfully yielded your energies, time, and means, to the work.

“If Spiritualists could only realize the treasures they are laying up for themselves by advancing the banner of truth, and the joys in consequence that await them on the golden shore, they would spare no pains or means and omit no effort in spreading the gospel of glad tidings. Oh, how I would exult with joy if the New Church people would see and preach this beautiful and blessed truth. They will yet get their eyes open, and step out of their little creed-bound narrowness, and stand upon the broad and heavenly platform of the Lord and this spiritual truth, for they are one and the same. Swedenborg will speak to them from the higher life, and I pray they may heed him. Your old friend,

“William Gailard.”

WM. LLOYD GARRISON.

At the sitting June 9, 1882, came the following:

“For long years before the emancipation of the slaves I waged a fierce and bitter warfare against the institution of African slavery in the United States. The overthrow of that accursed institution became the absorbing and central idea of my soul from my early manhood. All other themes, questions, and subjects, I subordinated to that one dominant purpose of my life. When I had lived to see that institution swept out of existence, equal civil rights secured, and manhood suffrage conferred, irrespective of race, color, or previous condition of servitude, I felt a sweet heavenly calm rest upon my soul, accompanied by the consciousness that I had not lived in vain. I felt that my efforts, however feeble, had helped to forward to a glorious consummation that long eventful struggle, and that by aiding in pushing along the car of progress and freedom, the world had not suffered by my having lived in it. When the victory had been achieved I had advanced far ‘into the vale of years,’ and realized that my life forces were well nigh exhausted. They had been mainly expended in my life work as editor, lecturer, etc., in a warfare upon an unholy condition in which upward of four millions of human beings, with God-given souls, had been placed by sheer force and without their own consent. I saw and still see needed reforms that call aloud for help, willing souls, and ready hands. Reform in the currency, reform in the tariff, reform in the civil service, a complete overhauling and reconstruction of government, the overthrow of rum, and the enfranchisement of women. God will and is raising up noble souls for this noble work, and you may be assured that the spirit world is neither indifferent nor inactive. Spirit bands are forming every-where, instrumentalities are being chosen, and agencies are being arranged for the work. The millions of high and exalted souls of the higher life will, ere long, descend upon the children of earth with their inspiring and propelling influence, and a revolution in the realm of mind will be inaugurated that shall eventuate in the accomplishment of needed reforms. I shall be among the number with all my strength and soul.

“Wm. Lloyd Garrison.”

WILBERFORCE.

July 7, 1882, at a sitting this day the following came:

“The main struggle of my life was to secure the liberation of the enslaved in the dominions under the authority and jurisdiction of the British government. I lived to witness the glorious success of my labors and to rejoice thereat and therein. I fought human slavery; I mean that slavery which is recognized by law—the right of one man to own another as a chattel, and to either transfer that ownership to another for a pecuniary or other consideration, or to transmit it as an inheritance. In doing so I had to combat wealth, prejudice, and biblical religion, for the bible recognizes this right. The struggle was long, eventful, and bitter, but victory finally crowned the effort. The civilized world concedes now the justness of my cause and the value to mankind of its success. And yet you are now fastening upon yourselves a slavery more appalling and degrading than African slavery ever was, or the slavery of the heathen and strangers of the olden time. (See Leviticus, 25th chapter, 44, 45 and 46th verses.)

“The slavery to which I refer now is the slavery of labor to capital. If I were back again in the body, with my present light on the subject, I would fight this accursed slavery more bitterly than I did that other species of slavery, which was bad enough, but infinitely less reprehensible than that which I am now discussing.

“No oppression is so utterly merciless and unconscionable as that of capital upon labor, and no other form of oppression can be so serious and hurtful in its consequences. Here we behold a mighty conflict between capital and labor. Capital making cruel and unreasonable exactions, seeking to obtain labor for an almost starvation pittance, while labor, unequal in the struggle, seeks to wrest from its adversary a decent and honorable requitement for its sweat. Capital triumphs and labor suffers. Let me tell you to-day, sir, and I would have the capitalists hear me, this contest will not always continue thus. Unless a spirit of justice and fair dealing shall speedily characterize the treatment of the poor toilers by their wealthy employers a mighty crash will come, an outburst of indignation in revolution that will render the bloody scenes of the past of trivial moment in comparison. The elements are generating, the storm clouds are surely gathering, and at a moment when least expected they will burst upon the country and the world in proportions only equaled by the fierceness of the conflict and its bloody issues. Let those whom it concerns beware. I beseech them, beware in time.

“Wilberforce.”

TECUMSEH.

On the 4th day of August, 1882, between the hours of 9 and 11 A. M., came the following, which can not fail to be of interest to all who feel that our Indian policy has been either wrong or ineffective, and that the Indians have not been rightly treated. The eloquent simplicity of the communication can not fail to be observed:

“A large delegation of Indians are here and wish to be heard. We have concluded to let them speak. I will write what their leader says in as nearly his own words as possible.

“Nettie, the Control.”

“We come to speak to palefaces at Washington. Me talk for my people—the redfaces in the hunting-grounds in the Far West where the sun goes down. Poor redfaces, nearly all gone. Paleface kill many and drive them from their old and much loved hunting grounds. You tell them to go on reservation, and the big father at Washington take good care of them. They go. Big chief at big city send paleface agents to give them blankets, ponies, guns, and bread to eat. Paleface agent start big store in wigwam and cheat redface, and give him fire-water to make him mad and crazy. When my people see how they are cheated they get mad, and put on war paint and kill much. Big paleface chief say to blue-coat warriors, go and kill redface and make them come back, and let paleface agent swindle much more. Now this is all wrong, and if wrong, why not make wrong right. Redface only handful, paleface mighty—like the leaves on trees. If redface mighty and paleface weak, how then you like it? You then like redface be honest and not cheat, and do as big preach say about golden rule. Me no like you give my people fire-water or guns. Me much like better if you give red braves horses and plows, and build school-houses for little papooses. Teach them how to read and make big scratch (writings) and let them learn other papooses. Don’t cheat. Put paleface clothes on redface, especially redface papooses, and learn them how to build big houses and how to raise big much to eat and sell. Then soon redface no more like hunting ground, but will love paleface and paleface ways. This much better than kill. Great Spirit no like paleface to kill redface or redface kill paleface. All die soon enough anyhow. Upper hunting grounds are full of redfaced spirits, and they all feel bad and sorry for redface in your land. Me no talk much more. Me sorry—me could cry. Poor redface few—soon all be gone. Be good to few left, and Great Spirit and redfaced spirits love you much. Spirit chiefs Ouray and Black Hawk and many more are here, and all plead for their people in lower hunting grounds. They all feel much bad. Good bye, chief and squaw. Me thank much for this big scratch.

“Tecumseh.”

AN UNKNOWN SUICIDE.

August 28, 1882, the following was received, viz:

“I lived in the body thirty-five years and eight months. I went out by my own hand into the great beyond. I was a singularly constituted man, and a very unfortunate one. Self-love is said to be a great ruling passion, but I never loved myself, and of course could not be expected to love anybody else. My parents were in no way assimilated and lived very unhappily together. They quarreled and wrangled constantly, and this embodies my earliest recollection when a child, and it made an impression upon me from the influence of which I never recovered. They seemed to hate each other, and I was created and grew up under the same influence of hate, and hate accompanied by a feeling of vengeance and revenge became a predominating trait of my character. My parents both belonged to church, and I have seen them both shout in church (they were Methodists) and go home, quarrel and fight for hours afterwards. Father would get drunk and mother would eat opium. I tell you this disgusted me with religion, and I concluded it was all a farce. I believed death ended all, and that religion was either a delusion or downright hypocrisy. Besides I had a very delicate and feeble physical organization which made me more morose and sullen. Melancholy finally seized me as a victim, and in a moment of utter despondency I blew out my brains and ended life in the body. But I could not get away from life—death I found to be but the commencement of another life, and I had made the great blunder and committed the foul deed of taking my life into my own hands. Seventy-seven years have passed since, and the terrible shadow of the act of suicide still hovers over me and gives me pain and anguish. But thank God, I begin to climb up the mount of progression—but the summit is still far away. Oh, people of earth, I pray you become not the suicide. Wait with patience until nature’s laws calls thee hence. Remember the fate of the suicide is terrible and hard to overcome. And in my sad history fathers and mothers may learn an instructive and profitable lesson, for my father and mother have suffered more than I. Thanks for your goodness. Good bye.

“A Suicide.”