My friends have so often asked me this question, that I think, before I close this book, I am justified in answering it, at all events, as far as I myself am concerned. How often have I sat, surrounded by an interested audience, who knew me too well to think me either a lunatic or a liar; and after I have told them some of the most marvellous and thrilling of my experiences, they have assailed me with these questions, "But what is it? And what good does it do? What is it?" There, my friends, I confess you stagger me! I can no more tell you what it is than I can tell you what you are or what I am. We know that, like Topsy, we "grew." We know that, given certain conditions and favorable accessories, a child comes into this world, and a seed sprouts through the dark earth and becomes a flower; but though we know the cause and see the effect, the greatest man of science, or the greatest botanist, cannot tell you how the child is made, nor how the plant grows. Neither can I (or any one) tell you what the power is that enables a spirit to make itself apparent. I can only say that it can do so, and refer you to the Creator of you and me and the entire universe. The commonest things the earth produces are all miracles, from the growing of a mustard seed to the expansion of a human brain. What is more wonderful than the hatching of an egg? You see it done every day. It has become so common that you regard it as an event of no consequence. You know the exact number of days the bird must sit to produce a live chicken with all its functions ready for nature's use, but you see nothing wonderful in it. All birds can do the same, and you would not waste your time in speculating on the wondrous effect of heat upon a liquid substance which turns to bone and blood and flesh and feathers.

If you were as familiar with the reappearance of those who have gone before as you are with chickens, you would see nothing supernatural in their manifesting themselves to you, and nothing more miraculous than in the birth of a child or the hatching of an egg. Why should it be? Who has fixed the abode of the spirit after death? Who can say where it dwells, or that it is not permitted to return to this world, perhaps to live in it altogether? Still, however the Almighty sends them, the fact remains that they come, and that thousands can testify to the fact. As to the theory advanced by some people that they are devils, sent to lure us to our destruction, that is an insult to the wisdom or mercy of an Omnipotent Creator. They cannot come except by His permission, just as He sends children to some people and withholds them from others. And the conversation of most of those that I have talked with is all on the side of religion, prayer, and self-sacrifice. My friends, at all events, have never denied the existence of a God or a Saviour. They have, on the contrary (and especially "Florence"), been very quick to rebuke me for anything I may have done that was wrong, for neglect of prayer and church-going, for speaking evil of my neighbors, or any other fault. They have continually inculcated the doctrine that religion consists in unselfish love to our fellow-creatures, and in devotion to God. I do not deny that there are frivolous and occasionally wicked spirits about us. Is it to be wondered at? For one spirit that leaves this world calculated to do good to his fellow-creatures, a hundred leave it who will do him harm. That is really the reason that the Church discourages Spiritualism. She does not disbelieve in it. She knows it to be true; but she also knows it to be dangerous. Since like attracts like, the numbers of thoughtless spirits who still dwell on earth would naturally attract the numbers of thoughtless spirits who have left it, and their influence is best dispensed with. Talk of devils. I have known many more devils in the flesh than out of it, and could name a number of acquaintances who, when once passed out of this world, I should steadfastly refuse to have any communication with. I have no doubt myself whatever as to what it is, or that I have seen my dear friends and children as I knew them upon earth. But how they come or where they go, I must wait until I join them to ascertain, even if I shall do it then.

The second question, however, I can more easily deal with, What good is it? The only wonder to me is that people who are not stone-blind to what is going on in this world can put such a question. What good is it to have one's faith in Immortality and another life confirmed in an age of freethought, scepticism and utter callousness? When I look around me and see the young men nowadays—ay, and the young women too—who believe in no hereafter, who lie down and die, like the dumb animals who cannot be made to understand the love of the dear God who created them although they feel it, I cannot think of anything calculated to do them more good than the return of a father or a mother or a friend, who could convince them by ocular demonstration that there is a future life and happiness and misery, according to the one we have led here below.

"Oh, but," I seem to hear some readers exclaim, "we do believe in all that you say. We have been taught so from our youth up, and the Bible points to it in every line." You may think you believe it, my friends, and in a theoretical way you may; but you do not realize it, and the whole of your lives proves it. Death, instead of being the blessed portal to the Life Elysian, the gate of which may swing open for you any day, and admit you to eternal and unfading happiness, is a far-off misty phantom, whose approach you dread, and the sight of which in others you run away from. The majority of people avoid the very mention of death. They would not look at a corpse for anything; the sight of a coffin or a funeral or a graveyard fills them with horror; the idea of it for themselves makes them turn pale with fright. Is this belief in the existence of a tender Father and a blessed home waiting to receive them on the other side? Even professed Christians experience what they term a "natural" horror at the thought of death! I have known persons of fixed religious principles who had passed their lives (apparently) in prayer, and expressed their firm belief in Heaven waiting for them, fight against death with all their mortal energies, and try their utmost to baffle the disease that was sent to carry them to everlasting happiness. Is this logical? It is tantamount in my idea to the pauper in the workhouse who knows that directly the gate is open to let him through, he will pass from skilly, oakum, and solitary confinement to the King's Palace to enjoy youth, health, and prosperity evermore; and who, when he sees the gates beginning to unclose, puts his back and all his neighbors' backs against them to keep them shut as long as possible.

Death should not be a "horror" to any one; and if we knew more about it, it would cease to be so. It is the mystery that appals us. We see our friends die, and no word or sign comes back to tell us that there is no death, so we picture them to ourselves mouldering in the damp earth till we nearly go mad with grief and dismay. Some people think me heartless because I never go near the graves of those whom I love best. Why should I? I might with more reason go and sit beside a pile of their cast-off garments. I could see them, and they would actually retain more of their identity and influence than the corpse which I could not see. I mourn their loss just the same, but I mourn it as I should do if they had settled for life in a far distant land, from which I could only enjoy occasional glimpses of their happiness.

And I may say emphatically that the greatest good Spiritualism does is to remove the fear of one's own death. One can never be quite certain of the changes that circumstances may bring about, nor do I like to boast overmuch. Disease and weakness may destroy the nerve I flatter myself on possessing; but I think I may say that as matters stand at present I have no fear of death whatever, and the only trouble I can foresee in passing through it will be to witness the distress of my friends. But when I remember all those who have gathered on the other side, and whom I firmly believe will be present to help me in my passage there, I can feel nothing but a great curiosity to pierce the mysteries as yet unrevealed to me, and a great longing for the time to come when I shall join those whom I loved so much on earth. Not to be happy at once by any manner of means. I am too sinful a mortal for that, but "to work out my salvation" in the way God sees best for me, to make my own heaven or hell according as I have loved and succoured my fellow-creatures here below. Yet however much I may be destined to suffer, never without hope and assistance from those whom I have loved, and never without feeling that through the goodness of God each struggle or reparation brings me near to the fruition of eternal happiness. This is my belief, this is the good that the certain knowledge that we can never die has done for me, and the worst I wish for anybody is that they may share it with me.

THE END.