We are strange beings; our journey through life is a wonderful career. Through unfolding years of childhood, later literary pursuits and life experience, we hasten forward, aspiring to reach our day-dream fancies.

When about forty we seem to rest, reflect and soliloquize: "Who am I; what am I; where from; where bound; why do I enjoy, and why do I weep? How all these unseen emotions if my feelings are not controlled by an invisible person who knows, thinks and dictates?"

Reason and science teach that we are complex beings, living on the outside of a world which holds us from falling off by a force called gravity.

Our abode, our home world, is so far from other worlds that we have no communication with their inhabitants. In fact, we do not know that other worlds are inhabited by beings standing around on their hind legs like ourselves. We simply know that our world is voyaging among millions of other worlds, which, at certain periods of their life-day, must resemble the condition of our world today, for their elements and movements are similar to ours.

Apparently the entire material universe, of which our bodies form a part, is actuated by an invisible force of push. Everything is moving on, giving place and taking place, cohesion followed by dissolution.

The velocity of this continued material movement is governed by conditions. On one hand the mountains, or earth's age wrinkles, rise so slowly that the changes of thousands of years may be imperceptible, while, on the other, the velocity of the molecular forces astound us, for we are taught that the electrons in our own bodies, and all other material substance, are continually darting around the corners of the atoms at the rapidity of more than one hundred thousand miles per second. This statement seems incredible, except when we consider telegraphy. In that, even if vibration is assumed, something travels over the entire distance; or, something awakes something else, which, in turn, arouses the next over the entire course. This astounding proof encourages us in our faith in infinity and God.

Truly, death does not end the commotion, for, when we bury our dead the molecules begin escaping up through the gravel to gain their freedom, and it may require thousands of years or but a few seconds; in the end all have flown away into the sweet, pure atmosphere, and the form has disappeared.

This strange inquiry does not end with the study of the physical system, for, as stated, we find we are possessed by something invisible, and yet personal, to ourselves. That which loves, approves, decides, reasons, knows right from wrong and wills to do. This self-evident, mysterious thing we may be allowed to designate as self, or soul.