Part 2
“It is of public record and History: A father knocked down his own son—because he kicked him.”
“Kicked his father?”
“Yes; poor little fellow!”
“Surely the boy should be punished;—not the father?”
After a startled glance of indignation, which quickly faded into pity, they continued:
“Children inherit all physical tendencies from their physical parents. In the case under discussion, the lad received vicious inclinations from the father, who had, however, so controlled his temper as to successfully pass all ante-marriage tests.
“Had he taught that son by example the self-discipline he so well understood, the boy would never have disgraced us.
“Through whose neglect was the boy injured? Clearly the father’s. The mother was also considered at fault, to this extent:
“Through a mistaken charity, a desire to shield her beloved from criticism, she had endured, without complaint several outbreaks previous to the one reported; for this she resigned, temporarily, her maternal rights and colors. Our future generations must be protected at any cost.”
“Then she finally delivered him over for the sake of the future?”
“The offense was committed in the field and was reported by the Agent, as it should have been by whomever witnessed the relapse.
“All feared the most disastrous effect upon our community. You may not fully understand that such manifestations act as carrion, attracting from lower atmospheres those ravenous thought-creatures, bred by evil-doers, and called by some of your inspired writers, ‘Elementals’, who swarm around unhealthy humanity, endangering the welfare of every sensitive organism within their reach, in their senseless frenzy to prolong a shadowy and useless existence.
“Bereft of filth, they gradually lose their electrical vitality and power to harm; and finally disintegrate into crude matter.
“This father was uniformed in red and delegated to the School of Philosophy for one entire season. There he was also subjected to the influence of most refining music, and his reformation was complete; for we have not a more patient and conscientious father or husband in the city.
“He was restored to his paternal colors and is a much better man than ever, for his victory over the parasites that were sapping his life.”
During the conversation, we had been slowly traversing the length of the valley, noting as we passed, elastic health and unalloyed happiness upon every side. Most strongly were we impressed by the vigorous girlish beauty of the matrons, who were at regular intervals, as fondly absorbed in their nursing darlings, as the most devoted of Earth mothers.
During these brief intervals, when the Nursery knolls were thronged with mothers, attention was called to occasional workers, who though resting, like the others, from their field labors, were busily writing in small volumes suspended from their girdles.
“Government Agents who keep the Time accounts that the mothers may not be harassed or disturbed; they only of all the field workers are not parents.”
“Why, if salaried and free, are they timed?”
“Time is an important factor in determining the value of the crops; seasons differ in the amount required, as with you.
“The sod and soil must at times be too cold and damp for these tender human germs.
“We need every variation of temperature, and are, by this close companionship with nature, able to absorb the physical elements which give us strength and endurance; by this very course, we are enabled to preserve a youthful vigor to which Earth-folk are strangers. During the time of physical growth we court every opportunity for absorbing Force; this, assimilated, we may in later years live according to our tastes and preferences, as we have then the power to attract and adjust whatever may be required for recreation.”
We suddenly became conscious of an uncomfortable rumbling and jarring, similar to the sensations we had experienced during the Earth-life, from which we had till now seemed so widely separated; as this confusion ceased, we heard in those sweet tones we were rapidly learning to love:
“We will dine now, if you wish;” and simultaneously felt ourselves borne rapidly through space and finally into a large, airy apartment—an ideal dining room.
We had hardly taken cognizance of its many beauties, before we were again attacked with the jolting, rocking, lurching consciousness of Earth-life, and became dimly aware of harsh voices unpleasantly near us.——
Our guides announced us simply as “Voyagers from Earth,” in response to which the matronly queen who presided, greeted us cordially, directing us toward capacious easy chairs which nearly surrounded the room.
After several ineffectual efforts to rise above the haunting spectres of our former life, we were dully conscious of being addressed by the host, as follows:
“Your Earth People are in their ignorance robbing you of this opportunity; being greatly disturbed over your absence from the body, which they have discovered notwithstanding our efforts to hold their attention elsewhere.
“The one poor harassed soul, less gross than the rest, upon whose instincts we have relied for your safe return, has yielded to their importunities sooner than we anticipated, and has now resorted to Prayer. An earnest Prayer to the Father from a sincere and faithful heart is a Power we can not safely combat.
“You must now return; but we will try to raise you again from the depths, when you are in the quiet of your own home, alone, and the prospects are favorable.”
Deeply disappointed and violently struggling against the power that would thus wrench us from the happy haven into which we had drifted, we heard—O, so faintly, as from a great distance——
“Rest easily, Earth-child; you are doing yourself only harm. All will be made clear in the Good Father’s own time.”
Then the horrible whistles, the jolting of the train, and an indignant voice saying:
“Didn’t you see her shiver? Such a fuss over nothing! She is coming to, all right. Better keep your bottle for those that need it. Some doctors think that brandy will start or stop the universe.” This last in an undertone.
We opened our eyes very reluctantly, to find a red-faced, wrinkled and be-whiskered man bending over us, with a breath strongly indicative of the contents of a bottle held threateningly near.
Pushing it angrily away, we exclaimed in a far-from-Reinstern-like tone:—
“Why are you meddling with our affairs? We did not want to come back yet; we have not seen the father’s field;—not even had dinner—and things looked so attractive!”
He shook his head with a professional air, and murmured: “Not right yet;—better,—decidedly better.”
Then we sat up as straight as a clothes-pin, and glaring at the passengers about our seat rudely demanded:
“Just trot right off about your own affairs, now, all of you; you have treated us shamefully, and,” we sniveled and wept a little at this point, “we don’t even know your names.”
The conductor now interposed: “Madam, you fainted, and but for the kindness of this physician,—”
“Kindness of fiddlesticks!” we interrupted, “we were out of town, off on a voyage,—visiting friends,—and should have returned in good time, if—”
The doctor hastily returned to his post, while the others with horror-stricken faces, as promptly retreated.
Resourceless before their suspicions, we relinquished all intentions to elucidate, and added, simply:
“Who thought we were all right if left alone?”
Whereupon a mild-mannered miss of probably sixteen well-invested summers, turned toward us to say, modestly:
“I’ve seen people that way before; Aunt Sophronia often is; I don’t understand it; but you didn’t look a bit dead.”
“Dead!” we ejaculated; “We’d like to die that way often, every day or two. You must have some common sense.”
Then we straightened up our traveling cap, and stared savagely at the outside panorama of brown fields, while we tried to imagine a life of love, truth, justice, charity;—among idiots.
Later, we convinced our fellow-passengers of our sanity, by expressing our grateful appreciation of their solicitude; how could they know?—and assurance of our complete recovery.
_LOVE’S DESTINY._
Where the gray crag kisses the virgin sky, And the fledgling eagles half-famished cry, Where the sun’s kind glance warms the cloud to tears, And the snow-bank clings to the earth for years; Where the lichens starve and the sad winds mourn, There, a host of cupids at eve were born.
They came tumbling out from their rocky nest, Nor regretful wailed for the rugged breast; But astride the crest of a stream as blue As the star-lit sky; with their arrows true, Downy, sun-tipped wings and the briefest legs, Just like dear young ducklings released from eggs.
They are fluttering, splashing in frolic gay, Whirling here and there in the misty spray; Now, anon, down dizziest steeps they glide, All demurely, roguishly, side by side; In their path, huge bowlders await, but see! With a somersault they are passed in glee.
Through a rock-bound glen next they gurgling go. ’Neath caressing, whispering branches, low, For a splashing romp, undisturbed by fear, In a broad lake, billowy, deep and clear; But they’re nearing, blindly, the crumbling edge Of a ragged, cruel and treacherous ledge;
While those countless myriads are hurrying in,— Crowding, racing, chasing from brim to brim: Hark! With hands clasped over an aching breast, A poor Soul moans, “Come to me, Love, and rest; Long and patiently have I watched for you: Fill my heart and home with yourselves so true.”
Do you hear them chant, in their rapturous glee, “Never tires Love, Soul; we are not for thee. We must on and on, like the water blue; Bravely wait, work, hope, till your Love finds you. Danger waits below; you are tempting Death;” She is calling, still; for, with bated breath,
Has she watched, benumbed, while a sportive elf Laughing wildly, recklessly, cast himself From their midst, to the surging depths below; And she moans, “Dear Love, I shall miss you so.” “Love but laughs at dangers; fear not;” they say, “Fancy not he dies: We all live for aye.” Right over they tumbled;—she peers down to see— Not death;—but mad revels of exquisite glee: Joyous myriads whirled in the dashing spray!
· · · · ·
Think ye not love dies in an hour—a day; ’Tis his dim, dull shadow, o’er which men weep, When a sun-cloud gives to the shadow, sleep;
But Immortal love, ever close beside, Through life’s midnight hours will undimmed abide. Watch and pray, lone Soul, for the love that lasts; Sighing not o’er shadows another casts; Lest a passion-cloud should engulf your way, Till you, helpless and hopeless, drift astray.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Table of Contents added by transcriber. 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 3. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.