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 1 
 
 32X 
 
Brighter Spheres. 
 
 BT 
 
 SPIRITUS. 
 
 Dictated through the medium ship of 
 
 ANNIE F. S. 
 
 With an Introdudiofi by E. J. C. 
 
 '* There is no death ! What seems so is transition. 
 This life of mortal b eath 
 Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
 Whose portal we call death." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 MONTREAL : 
 
 JOHN LOVELL & SON. 
 1890. 
 
7" ■'■ 
 
 O 6' 3 '5 5^ 
 
 2130 
 
 P \ R \ T' U '^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the 
 year one thousand eight hundred and ninety, by Ernest 
 John Craigie, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. 
 
1 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S DECLARATION. 
 
 To WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: I, Spiiitiis, known 
 throughout this work as Arthur Rogers, do solemnly 
 assert that I dictated it ; and that all contained 
 herein is the true account of my life, with its sins, 
 its sorrows, its struggles and final ending. 
 
 My object in giving this book to the world is 
 referred to in the beginning of Chapter II. ; and 
 again in Chapter XVIII., entitled "My Mission," 
 where, also, is described the process, or agency, em- 
 ployed. Chapter XIX., on " The Use and Abuse of 
 Spiritualism," touches further upon the method of 
 its production. 
 
 One thing I would have understood. This book 
 was not written under control, but by direct dictation. 
 The names are assumed, but the characters and scenes 
 are real, the facts true ; and to the common Father 
 of all do I dedicate it. 
 
 ♦' Not as I will, O Father, but as Thou wilt ; " and 
 if it please Thee to let the world reject it, help Thy 
 servants, whose hopes are centred in its success, 
 to commend it to Thy care, and echo with me these 
 words : 
 
 "thy will be done." 
 
? 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 READER — Believe me or not as you may, this work, 
 which I trust will prove instructive as well as in- 
 teresting, was produced in the marvellous manner 
 described further on. This is a statement, the truth 
 of which can be supported l)y many well-known i)er- 
 sons, including professional and business men, who 
 were invited on various occasions to witness the 
 progress of the work, and whose names can be fur- 
 nished should any doubt arise in your mind as to the 
 possibility of this book being the direct dictation of 
 an " Invisible Intelligence." 
 
 There can be no possibility of imposture on the 
 part of the Medium, who is without the benefits of a 
 liberal education. She is an English-Canadian, edu- 
 cated at the Day schools of Montreal, which she left 
 at the age of fourteen. During the entire progress of 
 the work, she followed her daily avocations away 
 from home ; and it was in the evenings that a friend 
 and myself, with others, as already mentioned, wit- 
 nessed her extraordinary gift of mediumship, which 
 was exhibited in this wise : — She sat by herself at a 
 table with a small empty box thereon, on which she 
 no sooner placed her hands than the said box began 
 to tilt out words and sentences according to the 
 established Spiritualistic Code, which were taken 
 down by one of those present, each tilt representing 
 a letter of the alphabet in its consecutive order — the 
 Jesuit being this book. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Medium is not a " Professional," and never 
 received any pecuniary consideration for the exhi- 
 bition of her gift, which was witnessed by myself and 
 others under the severest tests. I may add, too, that 
 the sublime soliloquies, and appropriate quotations 
 from poets of past centuries, with which this book 
 is interspersed, clearly prove the utter impossibility, 
 under her surroundings, of fraud on her part, and 
 that the '* Invisible Intelligence " dictating the work 
 was outside the Medium ; was moreover possessed 
 of considerable ability ; and had evidently received a 
 superior education. 
 
 And now a few words as to the inception of this 
 book ; — The writer of this Introduction has for many 
 years closely studied the theory and philosophy of 
 Spiritualism — or Spiritism, which is the more correct 
 term. He has witnessed, under test conditions, 
 numerous phenomena connected therewith, and has 
 arrived at the conclusion that by a magnetic influence, 
 possessed by certain persons, commonly called Medi- 
 ums, and under certain conditions, we are enabled 
 to converse with friends and loved ones who have 
 gone before into the unseen world. 
 
 It was at a seance in the summer of 1889, the 
 unknown but necessary psychological conditions 
 proving favorable, and Annie F. S. being the Me- 
 dium, that the Author of this book announced his 
 presence under the name of " Friend," and when 
 asked if he had anything to communicate, replied 
 in the following words : — 
 
 " I want you to write all I tell you — my life, earthly 
 and immortal. It will be a benefit to all mankind. 
 You will publish it. It will sell well as coming from 
 a higher sphere. Half the profits to go to the poor."^ 
 
 i 
 
wtm 
 
 /ATA' on re 7/0 X. 
 
 S 
 
 When asked what title the work should hear, the 
 reply came. " brighter Spheres." He declined to 
 give his own name, but gave tliat of " .Spiritus " as a 
 nom dc plume. It was then and there arranged when 
 the sittings should take i)lace — which, it may here 
 be stated, occupied a period of about five months. 
 
 The reader's attention is especially drawn to the 
 object of the work, as expressed in the opening of 
 the 2nd chapter : — *' As thousands of lives are every 
 day filled with darkness and sin, knowing nothing of 
 Eternal Light, it is for them I send fort! this work — 
 a written testimony^ a wonderful proof ., of glorious 
 immortality ; may it accomplish that mission for 
 which it was destined." 
 
 In conclusion, it is hoped no one will be deterred 
 by the words " Medium " and " Spiritism " from read- 
 ing this book, and that it will be perused in a spirit 
 of fairness and Christian charity, uninfluenced by 
 prejudice or bigotry. 
 
 Without delaying the reader any longer from the 
 treat which it is anticipated is awaiting him in the 
 perusal of the following pages, he is requested to 
 read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the following 
 extracts from two well-known writers on Spiritism, 
 with which the writer of this Introduction bids adieu 
 to the reader : 
 
 " He who, in regard to terrestrial magnetism, knows 
 only the little figures of ducks, which with the aid of a 
 magnet are made to swim about in a basin of water, 
 would find it difficult to understand that those toy 
 figures contain the secret of the mechanism of the 
 universe and of the movements of worlds. He 
 whose knowledge of Spiritism isconfined to the table 
 turning, which was the starting point of the modern 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 manifestations, is in a similar position ; he regards it 
 merely as an amusement, a social pastime, and can- 
 not understand how a phenomenon so simple and 
 so common, known to antiquity and even to savage 
 tribes, can be connected with the weightiest questions 
 of psychology and of human life. For the superficial 
 observer, what connection can exist between a table 
 that tilts and the morality and future destiny of the 
 human race? ]Jut as from the simple poi, which in 
 boiling raises its lid (a pot, too, which has boiled from 
 the remotest antiquity), there has issued the potent 
 motor with whose aid man transports himself through 
 space and suppresses distance, so be it known to 
 you, O ye who know naught of Sj)iritism, there has 
 issued from the table-tilting, wiiich provokes your 
 disdainful smiles, a new philosophy, that furnishes 
 the solution of problems which no other has been 
 able to solve. I appeal to all honest adversaries of 
 Spiritism, and I adjure them to say whether they 
 have taken the trouble to study wh;it they criticize — 
 reminding them that criticism is necessarily of no 
 value unless the critic knows what he is talking 
 about. Assuredly, if we had presented this philoso- 
 phy as being the product of a human brain, it would 
 have met with less disdain, and would have had the 
 honor of being examined by those v ' ^ profess to be 
 the leaders of opinion ; but it claims to be derived 
 from spirits : ' What an absurdity ! ' exclaim its adver- 
 saries. But put aside all thought of the origin of 
 this book ; suppose it to be the work of a man, and 
 say in truth and honesty whether, after having care- 
 fully read it, you find in it anything to laugh at or 
 ridicule ? 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " Strange to say, some of those wlio are most incre- 
 dulous in regard to Spiritism djny the possibility of 
 its phenomena in the name of religion, of whicli they 
 often know as little as they do of Spiritism. They 
 do not reflect that, denying without restriction the 
 possibility of the * marvellous ' and the * super- 
 human,' they deny religion, for is not religion found- 
 ed on revelation and miracles? and what is revela- 
 tion, if not extra-human communications? All the 
 sacred writers, from Moses downwards, have spoken 
 of this order of communications, 
 
 " Spiritism is strong, because its bases are those of 
 religion itself, viz. : God, the soul, ^e rewards and 
 punishments of the future: because u shows those 
 rewards and punishments to be 'he fiatitral '•fsults 
 of ^he earthly life. In ancient tunes it wu:; .he object 
 oi mysterious studies carefully hiddei. from the vul- 
 gar and illiterate ; at the present day ii has no secrets, 
 but speaks clearly, without ambiguity, mysticisms or 
 allegories. The time having come for making known 
 the truth, its language is such as all may comprehend ; 
 it is not the work of any man ; no one can claim to 
 have created it, for it is as old as creation itself; it 
 is to be found everywhere and in all religions. 
 
 " * Do Spirits,' it is sometimes asked, * teach us 
 anything new in the way of morality, anything supe- 
 rior to what has been taught by Christ?' ' If the 
 moral code of Spiritism be no other than that of the 
 Gospel, what is the use of it ? ' This mode of reason- 
 ing is singularly like that of the Caliph of Omar, in 
 speaking of the Library of Alexandria : * If,' said he, 
 * it contains only what is found in the Koran, it is 
 useless, and in that cas? must be burned ; if it con- 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tains anything that is not found in the Koran, it is 
 bad, and in that case also it must be burned.' 
 
 " No ; the mc ality of Spiritism is not different from 
 that of Jesus ; but we have to ask in our turn, 
 whether before Christ men had not the law given by 
 God to Moses ? Is not the doctrine of Christ to be 
 found in the Decalogue ? Will it therefore be con- 
 tended that the moral teaching of Christ is useless ? 
 We ask still further of those who deny the utility of 
 Spiritism, why it is that the moral teachings of 
 Christ are so little practised, and why it is that 
 those who rightly proclaim their sublimity are the 
 first to violate the first of His laws, viz : that of 
 'Universal Charity?' " — Allan Kardec. 
 
 " Will Spiritism die out ? Yes, //"some dread spell 
 shall change the tides of human life, and turn back 
 their onward flow. Yes, //"the constitution of human 
 nature can be altered, so that reason and love shall 
 abdicate, and man be something else than man. If 
 the law of miracle can be established, if caprice can 
 rule the world, Spiritism may die out. //"the voices 
 of the Immortals can be hushed in eternal silence, or 
 human ears no longer list thereto, or human love 
 respond in harmony to their most kindly greetings, 
 then may, then will it cease to be. When Spiritual- 
 ism dies, man will die. Philosophy and Science will 
 be buried in the same grave, and the pall of eternal 
 night will fall upon the realm of life. The songs of 
 eternity will cease, its music hushed in eternal ilence. 
 All suns will cease to shine, and worlds will wander 
 darkling in the abyss of endless night."— /Vt. "isor 
 J. S. Loveland, 
 
 E. J. C. 
 
 Montreal, March. 1890. 
 
 134 Peel Street. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 Pack 
 
 A Scene from my Boyhood 9 
 
 Chapter II. 
 New Trials 15 
 
 Chapter III. 
 Rose 24 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 A Wealthy Heiress 34 
 
 Chapter V. 
 Prospects of a Wedding 44 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 Married Life 5^ 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 The Return of a Lost Love 67 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 Flight 77 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 Retribution 88 
 
I ^'.J__ 
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 Page 
 My New Friends loo 
 
 Chapter XL 
 Blighted Hopes m 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 Parted 126 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 Free at Last 136 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 The Wages of Sin.- 149 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 Closing Scenes 161 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 The Spirit World 175 
 
 Chapter XVIL 
 Scenes I Behold 189 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 My Mission 200 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 The Use and Abuse of Spiritualism 209 
 
 » - • . 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 The End 217 
 
 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SCENE FROM MY BOYHOOD. 
 
 
 Many long years have elapsed and fled — sunk 
 beneath the ocean of time — since my eyes last 
 rested on the scene I am about to describe. 
 
 The old house stands there still — now sombre 
 and grand ; then it was an ivy-covered home- 
 stead. 
 
 The day on which my story opens was a hot 
 one in July. High in the heavens the glorious 
 sun was beaming, casting its rays of golden 
 light over all the landscape, and on the running 
 brook till its clear waters sparkled in spontane- 
 ous gladness. 
 
 In the old-fashioned garden various bright- 
 hued flowers were shedding faint odors on the 
 summer air, and the droning of the busy bee 
 
mmmm. 
 
 10 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 sounded dreamily in the sunshine. Aged trees 
 spread their branches towards the placid sky, 
 while a gentle wind noiselessly stirred their 
 verdant foliage. 
 
 Underneath one of those trees a boy is stand- 
 ing. He is only in his fifteenth year, but his 
 well-knit and sturdy frame gives him a look of 
 early manhood, and his dark, lowering counten- 
 ance and scowling eyes tell of passions pitiful 
 to behold in one so young. He is evidently in 
 a rage. Ever and anon he glances towards a 
 by-path that skirted near the place where he is 
 standing. 
 
 Some ten minutes passed slowly by, when 
 another boy came walking along the path. He 
 was some years younger, tall and slightly built, 
 with fair girlish features. He gave a ^ow cry of 
 surprise on seeing the other boy, who bounded 
 forward and stood before him. 
 
 "Why, Arthur!" he exclaimed, "what are 
 you doing here } Have you been waiting for 
 me ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, in a tone of sup- 
 pressed rage. " I intend to have it out with 
 you. I will teach you to call me a coward and 
 a liar." As he spoke he drew back and struck 
 
 1 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 II 
 
 the other a blow in thq face, which was quickly 
 returned ; and now the beauty of the scene is 
 gone, for peace has fled, and in its stead there 
 reign liigh words, angry blows, and cries of 
 
 rage. 
 
 O angel of peace, how often does man insult 
 the presence of thy sanctity ! Thou bright 
 messenger of God, descending from regions of 
 untold bliss into the busy haunts of man and 
 sin, and whether to the hovel of the wretched 
 or the lofty ancestral halls of the great, to the 
 cabin of the peasant or the palaces of kings, to 
 the hearts wearied with the world's conflict or 
 the soul battling with despair, thou dost take 
 to them all divine comfort and harmony that tell 
 of the life beyond ! 
 
 Backward and forward the boys wrestled, 
 the younger getting the worst, for the blood 
 was streaming down his face. 
 
 Unperceived by either of them, a lady had 
 appeared on the scene. She was small and 
 delicately formed, bearing the unmistakeable 
 signs of recent illness. Traces of beauty still 
 lingered in her worn countenance. The once 
 sparkling eyes were now dull and sunken, and 
 the luxuriant hair was streaked with silver, 
 
^nT 
 
 12 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 I j. 
 
 showing that time, relentless time, had done its 
 work. 
 
 She paused, horror-struck, on seeing the fight. 
 She called aloud to them in an agony of en- 
 treaty. She asked them in imploring accents to 
 stop ; yet they heeded her not — did not seem to 
 hear her. 
 
 But it was now over. One well-directed 
 blow, which took the younger off his feet, sent 
 him heavily to the earth, his head coming in 
 contact with a large rock. He lay motionless, 
 white and still. 
 
 A sharp cry of intense agony from the 
 woman caused the victor to turn in her direc- 
 tion. A deathlike pallor had overspread her 
 features. One hand was clasped convulsively 
 over her heart. She was gasping as if for 
 breath. *' Murderer! " she cried, gazing at him 
 with reproachful eyes. Then in milder accents 
 she murmured, " O God, have mercy on my 
 boy ! " A shuddering of the body, a contrac- 
 tion of the features, a low moan, and all was 
 still ; the sorrow and pain were all ended, for 
 she was dead, and nothing remained but the 
 pale, silent body to mock my anguish, for I, 
 Arthur Rogers, was that boy, and the woman. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 n 
 
 ly ii\c^ dead and cold beside me, was my mother. 
 
 With breathless haste I hurried to the house, 
 which was quite near, to summon aid. My 
 father was away from home, but a Miss Waters, 
 who was staying at the house, ran, with the 
 frightened servant, to the spot. The boy, who 
 was merely stunned, was sent for the nearest 
 doctor, while I helped to carry the lifeless body 
 of my mother, which we laid gently on her bed ; 
 and I bent over her, in vain endeavoring to 
 restore life to her inanimate form, for I could 
 not believe that she' was dead. For years she 
 had been suffering from heart-disease, and, the 
 week before, her physician had told us that the 
 least shock or excitement would prove fatal 
 Arriving at the scene when she did, and wit- 
 nessing the fall of my comrade, she thought I 
 had killed him. The thought of her boy a 
 murderer was more than the weak heart could 
 bear. 
 
 The doctor soon arrived and told us, after a 
 brief examination, that it was only what he 
 expected ; and hurried away to his other 
 patients. Miss Waters went to telegraph for 
 my father, who was in New York ; and I was 
 alone with the dead, filled with remorse for the 
 
H 
 
 BRIGHTER SPIHIRES. 
 
 IM V. 
 
 past and fear for the future. How well I knew 
 that I had caused her death, and that through 
 life I had been her greatest care. How often 
 had 1 brought tears of sorrow to the dear eyes 
 now closed in death ; and those lips, that had 
 that morning kissed nie, were now sealed for 
 eternity, and the familiar voice was luished for 
 ever — for I knew not that her spirit still 
 watched over her bov. 
 
 O ye Christians, how blessed is the knowledge 
 that enables you to think of your loved ones as 
 not dead, but gone before, where, in some 
 higher, brighter sphere, they wait for you to 
 join them ! 
 
 But I knew nothin<j of this. To me the 
 future held no hope, no great hereafter. How 
 often, in the drear}- nights that followed, would 
 I wake from some troubled dream, and fancy 
 that she stood beside me, her hand laid on my 
 burning head, while in the darkness the night- 
 wind seemed to waft her dying words through 
 my frenzied brain, ** O God, have mercy on my 
 boy!" 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 NEW TRIALS. 
 
 Before passing over the few years that separated 
 my boyhood from manhood, I would like to 
 'Tive the reader an insight into my character, 
 in order that he may judge whether the evil 
 that surrounded my life was the result of my 
 early training, or that criminal inheritance, or 
 natural tendency to sin, so characteristic of 
 man. ' I would like to portray my life as it really 
 was. As thousands of lives are every day filled 
 with darkness and sin, knowing nothing of 
 eternal light, it is for them I send forth this 
 ^vork — a written testimony— a wonderful proof 
 of irlorious immortality. ^lay it accomplish 
 that mission for which it was destined ! 
 
 Mine was a disposition that loved freedom ; 
 and I longed for the time when I could throw all 
 control aside and be my own master. Possessed 
 of a violent, hasty temper, I was often led into 
 acts of cruelty and injustice. My father, who 
 
' n 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 s6 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 was an atheist, had early instilled into my mind 
 lessons unnatural to youth and opposed to 
 Christianity. He was a hard, stern man, believ- 
 ing in neither God nor Devil, and was i^reatly 
 feared by all the household. He was succe:-sful 
 in business as a New York merchant, but had 
 retired from it on his marriage with my mother. 
 
 She was an English lady of good birth, a 
 sincere Christian, and of a timid, clinging nature, 
 easily governed by a man like my father. 
 
 When I was very young, she began to 
 teach me baby prayers and Bible verses. My 
 father, entering unexpectedly one day, and hear- 
 ing me repeating what I had learned, flew into 
 a rage, and I never forgot the scene that followed ; 
 it made an impression on my childish mind. 
 He swore that he was not going to have my 
 head filled with such nonsense ; it was only fit 
 for smooth-faced parsons. In vain my mother 
 pleaded that there was some truth in religion, 
 and that a God really existed ; he would not 
 listen ; he said it was all superstition, and that if 
 she did not stop teaching me such trash, he 
 would send me away where I would learn somc- 
 thinc: sensible. 
 
 This was sufficient to frighten her into giving 
 
 \ 
 
 i ^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
PRIGirTER SPHERES. 
 
 «7 
 
 the required promise ; but it was a heavy blow 
 to her, and, like some pale, delicate flower, she 
 began to fade and droop in the cold atmosphere 
 of our uncongenial home. 
 
 Some years after this, when I was old enough 
 to begin my education, my father sent me to 
 one of his friends in Boston — an atheist like 
 himself — where a tutor of the same sect was 
 engaged for me, and I began my studies away 
 from a mother who alone understood the fail- 
 ings of her boy. Among other things I was 
 taught that religion was false, and, as it had 
 originated in the dark ages, like all superstitions 
 it would soon die out. Thus I became an un- 
 believer. 
 
 All this helped to break my mother's heart. 
 Growing to manhood apart from her tender 
 care, her's was the earnest prayer that daily 
 rose beyond the eternal heaven in my behalf — 
 prayers that were not answered till she had slept 
 long years in her peaceful grave. 
 
 With her death new trials awaited me. It was 
 
 the day after she died, and I was sitting 
 
 alone in the long dining-room, anxiously 
 
 waiting my father's arrival. It was a bright 
 
 day, full of gladness. Outside the birds sang 
 
 2 
 
i8 
 
 BRICIITKR SPIIKRES. 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 gaily, and all nature seemed rejoicing, contrast- 
 ing deeply with the gloom and solitude within. 
 The radiant sunshine strayed through the cur- 
 tained window and rested in patches of rosy 
 light on the carpet, and one gentle ray lingered 
 lovingly on my solitary figure, as if pitying me 
 in my loneliness. 
 
 Those who have experienced a boyish grief 
 must know how fleeting it is. My first burst 
 over, I longed to throw off the impression of 
 gloom, and, in the open air, revel in some boyish 
 sport, that I might forget my sorrow. Here 
 everything reminded me of my loss : on the 
 table the work-basket, with its dainty needle- 
 work, and the book she had been reading ; and on 
 the floor her pet dog, lying waiting for the well- 
 known footsteps that he would never hear again. 
 
 The quiet stillness of the room began to 
 oppress me, and I fell into a train of gloomy 
 thought. I wondered how my father would 
 bear the news of my mother's death. Would 
 he sink beneath a storm of grief? or fly into a 
 rage with me as being the indirect cause of her 
 death ? or would he bear it with that stolid in- 
 difl"erence which I knew was part of his nature ? 
 
 My reverie was interrupted by the opening 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 19 
 
 and the dosing of the door, and, turning round, 
 I saw that Miss Waters had entered. As slic 
 is to figure in these pages, I owe her a brief de- 
 scription. To begin with, she had taken a great 
 dislike to me, which I heartily returned. She 
 was a haughty-looking creature above the 
 average lieight, with dark swarthy countenance, 
 and features that, in spite of their haughty 
 repose, were rather handson .e. Her chief attrac- 
 tion, however, lay in the expression of the dark, 
 flashing eyes. She was magnificently attired in 
 some bright color that seemed out of place in a 
 house of mourning. She swept languidly across 
 the floor, giving the unoffending dog a savage 
 
 kick. 
 
 "You leave that dog alone," I cried out 
 sharply, but she took no notice of me ; only a 
 slight flush of anger overspread her face, which 
 plainly showed that she \\ as annoyed. 
 
 She seated herself in an easy chair near the 
 window and drew back the curtain. 
 
 " I wonder what time your father will arrive," 
 i;he asked, after a short silence ; " I hope he will 
 come soon, for this house needs a master. That 
 poor, weak creature, your mother, was utterly 
 incapable of managing a household. Things are 
 iill upside down." 
 
20 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 ■lii n 
 
 t; i 
 
 My temper was rising, for I knew that she 
 lied. My mother was a model housekeeper. I 
 made no reply but gave the speaker a look of 
 witherinc^ contempt. She was, however, deter- 
 mined to aggravate me. Taking up a book off 
 the table, she began hurriedly to turn over the 
 pages. Now it happened to be my mother's 
 Bible. 
 
 " Silly thing," she said, with a sneer, "how 
 could she believe all this stuff? I pity your 
 father. He must have been unhappy, tied to a 
 religious maniac who thought more of religion 
 than of him." 
 
 '• You lie," I shouted, springing to my feet in 
 anger, for the slighting way in which she spoke 
 of my mother maddened me. 
 
 '* You are an insolent wretch," she hissed, " to 
 speak to a lady in that manner." 
 
 " A lady ! " I retorted, scornfully. " Do you 
 act the part of a lady, sneaking around the house, 
 fighting with the hired girl, prying into domestic 
 affairs, and insulting the memory of her whom 
 you called friend } and understand," I added^ 
 "that, until my father's arrival, I am master 
 here." 
 
 Not trusting myself to say any more, I hurried 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 21 
 
 from the room, followed by the frightened dog, 
 and the low, mocking laugh of my adversary 
 reached me as I closed the door. I felt as if I 
 hated her, and would gladly have crushed her 
 out of my life. 
 
 '• Who is she } " I asked myself. " What gives 
 her so much authorit)' ? " 
 
 I had once heard that her family and my 
 father's were intimate for years. " But," I thought, 
 angrily, " that is no reason why she should ' boss ' 
 the whole house." 
 
 I spent the remainder of the day in my room, 
 and had serious thoughts of running away. I 
 thought if I could go far away, I would win 
 fame and wealth, for never did human heart 
 pant more ardently than mine to be distin- 
 guished. But ahis for the dreams of youth, 
 never to be realized ! 
 
 I had just finished counting over my small 
 stock of money, when some one entered the 
 room, and, looking up, I was face to face with 
 my father. One glance at his stern countenance 
 told mc that I need not expect any pity from 
 him. If any grief had pressed his heart, it had 
 left no visible sign. There was no trace of sorrow 
 in that set, determined face. 
 
22 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 \ 
 
 "Well," he said, sternly, "what have you ta 
 say about all you have done ? " 
 
 I was beginning to explain the circumstances 
 of my mother's death, but he interrupted me 
 with an impatient gesture. 
 
 •* Spare mc all explanations," he cried, " Miss 
 Waters has told me all ; and, not content with 
 being the cause of a serious accident, you have 
 deliberately insulted a lady for whom I have a 
 sincere regard." 
 
 "It seems so," I replied, "since you think 
 more of what you call an insult than you do of 
 the death of your wife." 
 
 " Silence ! " he shouted, " do not answer me in 
 that voice. You must apologize to the lady." 
 
 " Never," I answered. " I did only what I 
 would do again were she to speak lightly of my 
 mother." 
 
 He gave me an angry look. " Do you know, 
 sir," he said, " that I am going away for some 
 time, and have made arrangements for you to 
 live under this lady's care during my absence ? " 
 
 " Live under her care ! " I repeated ; " no, I 
 will leave the house first." 
 
 " As you will," he replied, indifferently. " You 
 can go to your aunt in New York and finish 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 n 
 
 your education. Miss Waters will remain here 
 and look after the house." 
 
 "All right," I replied, calmly, though my 
 heart seemed bursting. 
 
 He turned to leave the room. " You will be 
 ready by the last of the week," he said. Then 
 without another word he left me. 
 
 On the impulse of the moment, I would have 
 run after him and asked for a little sympathy, 
 a little love; but, on second reflection, I knew 
 how useless it would be, and I returned to my 
 solitary thoughts, all hopes of escape banished, 
 for I felt that he would watch me. 
 
 During the years that followed, in which I 
 grew to manhood, I often thought that my 
 father had spoiled my whole life. But I was in 
 the hands of a higher power than his — yet I 
 knew it not — a Power that was gradually lead- 
 ing me on till that time when all things would 
 be right and I should know the truth. 
 
24 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 Hi - 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ROSE. 
 
 It is a dull winter's evening in the city of New 
 York. A light snowstorm is rising, filling the air 
 with tiny flakes that flutter against the window- 
 panes, as if anxious to get in, and then fall softly 
 to the ground where they are soon trodden out 
 of sight by the passers-by. 
 
 In the interior of a large, well-furnished room, 
 two persons are seated. The elder, a tall, dark 
 young man, slightly bronzed, is myself grown 
 to manhood. My companion is a lady, young 
 and beautiful. She is a brunette, with a clear, 
 olive complexion just tinted with a soft bloom. 
 Her features are small and regular. The eyes, 
 dark and liquid, are now filled with a bewitchino- 
 light ; and the shapely head is surmounted by a 
 mass of dark, wavy hair. She is dressed in the 
 height of fashion, in some rich material that fits 
 her well-formed figure to perfection. Costly 
 diamonds flash from the rings on her finders 
 
 1 1 
 
 1 i 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 25 
 
 and gleam in the dusky hair. There is a baby- 
 ish pout on the pretty features, that reminds me 
 of a spoilt child, and one tiny foot impatiently 
 taps the carpet. 
 
 "It is too bad," she exclaimed, "that I can- 
 not go to the ball. You are so unreasonably 
 
 jealous." 
 
 "You are wrong," I said, hotly. " I did not 
 speak without good reason. Have I not been 
 patient, lingering by your side night after 
 -nidit, without a word, a smile, a glance.? and 
 while others revelled in the enjoyment of your 
 company, you simply ignored my presence. 
 We had better part," I added moodily. " My 
 love and devotion count as nothing. You no 
 lonc^cr care for me." 
 
 A momentary look of fear crossed her features, 
 which was replaced by a pleading smile as she 
 rose and came softly towards me. 
 
 " You tiresome boy," she said, in a light tone, 
 ^' can you not see that I do not mean it } that 
 though I amuse myself with others, it is you I 
 really love } " 
 
 " You only say that to please me," I answered. 
 ""If you loved me, you would act dififerently." 
 
 She made no reply, but gave me a tender 
 
■ "> 
 
 26 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 nil 
 
 glance from the liquid eyes that caused my 
 anger to melt. 
 
 " Why do you torment me so ? " I asked. 
 "You seem to take a delight in making me 
 jealous." 
 
 "I must live," she cried, with a tragic gesture. 
 "Life would be ' ery dull without a little admi- 
 ration, a little excitement. But this evening I 
 will devote myself to you. Now, let us be 
 friends." 
 
 " My own darling," I cried, with rapture ; 
 and then followed a scene which all lovers are 
 familiar with. An hour later, when I lid good- 
 bye, I had promised to escort her to the ball ; 
 and I walked home with a heart very light 
 indeed, for I believed myself desperately in love. 
 It was that love which most men experience in 
 a lifetime, and which they look back upon in 
 after years with about as much emotion as they 
 would on some childish toy. 
 
 Eight years had passed since my mother's 
 death — years during which I studied a little, 
 travelled a little, and grew a little more wicked. 
 I had now entered my twenty-third year, and 
 the world seemed very bright to me. I had 
 not a care nor a thought for the future. My 
 
 ; li 
 
my 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. VJ 
 
 father I seldom saw. He had married Miss 
 Waters ; and, as that amiable lady and I were 
 not on very good terms, we saw very little of 
 
 each other. 
 
 They still occupied the old house in the 
 outskirts of Boston, and I lived in New York 
 with my aunt, Mrs. Ro<rcrs. She was a good- 
 natured old lady, and, having no children 
 of her own, I was over-indulged by her, so 
 that I did just what I liked. Her husband, 
 who was my father's brother and very much 
 resembled him, I stood a little in awe of, but 
 not enough to prevent me from often stagger- 
 ino- home under the influence of too much wine. 
 I had a large income from my father, but I 
 managed to spend it all, and was frequently in 
 debt. I was a well-known sport and gambler, 
 a fair hand at billiards, and the associate of 
 some of the most questionable characters in 
 town ; yet in spite of this I had the entree into 
 good society, and was petted by numerous mam- 
 mas with marriageable daughters. I had, how- 
 ever, already found my ideal, not in some well- 
 known heiress or fashionable belle, but in the 
 person of a poor actress, Rose Ashton, who had 
 nothing save her pretty face and ready wit to- 
 
 
■T 
 
 i!:: 
 
 38 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 recommend her. I have already described her 
 to the reader in the beginning of the chapter. 
 To me she was the impersonation of all womanly 
 grace and beauty. I had known her about 
 three months. 
 
 The first time I had seen her was on 
 the stage. I had sauntered into the theatre 
 with some of my friends to see the play. 
 It was badly produced, but the acting was good, 
 and my fancy was attracted by the face and 
 figure of the leading star. Hearing that one of 
 my companions knew her, I sought an introduc- 
 tion, which was granted, and I soon joined the 
 host of numerous admirers that nightly thronged 
 around her, and vied with each other in shower- 
 ing costly gifts on the object of their devotion. At 
 first I was the favorite. I bought the rarest jewels, 
 and "stood "the most expensive suppers. Some- 
 times a richer rival would appear on the scene ; 
 then I was slighted and thrown aside. I soon 
 let her know that I was not going to stand this ; 
 and we had many an angry scene, which always 
 ended in a compromise from her and some 
 costly presents from me. News of all this soon 
 reached my father's ears, and he threatened to 
 ^stop my allowance, but had not done so yet. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 29 
 
 The night of the ball arrived. It was a clear 
 night, with just a suspicion of frost in the 
 December air. Rose was in a flutter of excite- 
 ment. She was looking very lovely in a dress 
 of soft white silk, relieved by clusters of 
 crimson roses. 
 
 " O woman ! lovely woman ! nature made thee 
 To temper man ; we had been brutes without you." * 
 
 We were late entering the ball room. Dan- 
 cing had commenced, and many admiring glances 
 followed Rose, who was undoubtedly the belle. 
 The scene was lovely to gaze upon. I often 
 recalled it in after years— the long, brilliantly- 
 lighted room with its highly polished floor — the 
 lofty ceiHng almost hidden beneath a profusion 
 of flowers and rare tropical plants, arranged 
 with exquisite taste. 
 
 The pleasures of life are very short ! Alas 
 all earthly joys are fleeting! Sometimes we 
 try to seize them, but they elude our grasp and 
 float away from us for ever. 
 
 That night, or rather early the next morning, 
 when I returned home, I was surprised to find 
 my aunt sitting up for me— a thing I had never 
 known her to do before. 
 
 *Otway, Venice Preserved. 
 
30 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 'If I 
 
 li 
 
 "What is wrong?" I asked breathlessly, as 
 she beckoned me into the library. 
 
 " Your father ! " she exclaimed, in agitation. 
 " He has arrived, and is in an awful rage. He 
 has heard something about you." 
 
 "About me!" I echoed. "What can he 
 mean ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she replied. " He accused 
 me of letting you go to ruin." 
 
 " Never mind," I said, soothingly. " You are 
 not to blame, I will make it all right." 
 
 "You don't know what a rage he is in," she 
 rejoined. 
 
 " I don't care," I said, angrily. " I will let 
 him see that it is no boy he has to deal with. 
 I am now a man, and can judge for myself." 
 
 I soon retired, but not to rest. I had a 
 troubled dream in which I beheld Rose pursued 
 -by a demon who had the face of my father, and 
 I awoke filled with gloomy forebodings. The 
 first thing after breakfast he sent for me^and we 
 had a stormy scene. I was steadfast, and vowed 
 never to part from Rose, and that I intended 
 to marry her as soon as her engagement at the 
 theatre was ended. 
 
 " You will do no such thing," my father 
 
 '(•t 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 3J 
 
 roared, as he angrily paced the floor. " If you 
 disgrace yourself by wedding that creature I 
 will disown you. You talk about love, but 
 this is only a boyish fancy. Return home with 
 me and you will soon forget it." 
 
 " It is no boyish fancy," I retorted. " I never 
 will forget her." 
 
 " ' When poverty enters the door, love flies out 
 at the window,'" he quoted. 
 
 I was too angry to make any reply. I felt that 
 I must see Rose and tell her all that had passed ; 
 so I seized my hat and hurried from the house. 
 
 "She will be true," I murmured to myself. 
 " Poverty will not change her love." 
 
 I found her looking a little pale and tired 
 from the effects of the night before. She looked 
 surprised to see me at such an early hour. I 
 told her all my father had said. 
 
 " You see," 1 added, " that he wants to part 
 us, but I will never give you up." 
 
 " You are wrong," she said, with an angry 
 frown, " I could not live in poverty. You should 
 not have quarreled with your father." 
 
 ^' What ! " I cried, in astonishment, " do you 
 know what that would mean > It would be 
 separation from you, misery for us both." 
 
T 
 
 ^ 
 
 32 
 
 BRIG II TER SPHERES. 
 
 " And what will be the result if you defy 
 him ? " she asked. "If you could only exercise 
 a little common sense, you would see that if you 
 give in to him now it will be the better for us. 
 Return home for a while, and, when he sees that 
 you are steadfast, he will soon give in." 
 
 "You never loved me," I said, dejectedly, "or 
 you would not send me from you." 
 
 "It is because I do love you," she rejoined, 
 "that I do not want to ruin your future. You 
 would be helpless without money." 
 
 "Could I not work as other men do } " I said 
 gloomily. 
 
 She gave an incredulous smile. " What could 
 you do .-* You would soon tire ; and I want 
 wealth and position. I do not intend to be an 
 actress always," she said, musingly. " I always 
 understood you would be wealthy." 
 
 *'But," I pleaded, 'Mt is not my fault. If I 
 go from you, how am I to live t life will be sa 
 dull." 
 
 "Don't talk such nonsense," she said sharply. 
 " There is no alternative ; I have made up my 
 mind never to marry a poor man." 
 
 I pleaded with her, reasoned with her, but it 
 was all in vain ; so we parted, with many assur- 
 
 "hi. 
 
liRIGII 7 ER SrHEKES. 
 
 33 
 
 ances of faithful love, and promises to write 
 often. 
 
 I was greatly disappointed in Rose, and the 
 cool way she regarded the matter. I had always 
 thought of her as something above the common, 
 but found that she was only a weak, fickle 
 woman. I told my father that I would return 
 home with him for a while; and he, apparentl\- 
 content, made no remark. I left New York with 
 a sad heart, for I felt as if Rose was lost to me 
 forever. 
 
 During the journey my father told me that 
 he expected me to marry for position. •' With 
 your prospects you ought to make a brilliant 
 marriage," he said. I listened quietly, secretly 
 determined to marry no other woman but Rose. 
 
 my 
 
 ill 
 
34 
 
 BRIG II I 'EK sr/JEKES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A WEALTHY HEIRESS. 
 
 It! 
 
 I FOUND the old house greatly changed by 
 modern improvements and new faces. I had 
 loved the old-fashioned things of my childhood, 
 but the new Mrs. Rogers followed the latest 
 styles. 
 
 It was late when we arrived, and the house 
 was full of company. I made a hasty toilet and 
 descended to the drawing-room, resolved to be 
 as disagreeable as I could. My amiable step- 
 mother came forward and greeted me with great 
 cordiality. She seemed determined to ignore 
 the past> and I thought it was best to fall in with 
 her mood. 
 
 " Why, how you have grown ! " she exclaimed. 
 " I would not have recognized you. I must 
 introduce you to my niece. Come here, Maud," 
 she cried, "this is Arthur, whom I have already 
 told you about." There was a slight move- 
 ment in the back-ground as Maud came forward 
 — a girlish figure in simple white — and acknow- 
 ledged my formal bow. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 35 
 
 ged by 
 I had 
 
 ildbood, 
 e latest 
 
 c house 
 )ilet and 
 id to be 
 lie step- 
 ith great 
 ) ii^nore 
 1 in with 
 
 claimed. 
 
 I must 
 , Maud," 
 
 already 
 t move- 
 forward 
 acknow- 
 
 I was mentally contrasting her pale, subdued 
 beauty, with the rich, glowing loveliness of my 
 first love. Mrs. Rogers left us together, and her 
 niece opened the conversation by asking me 
 some questions about New York society, to 
 which I briefly replied, and led heron to speak 
 of herself. I found she was the only child of 
 Richard Waters — a wealthy Chicago citizen. 
 Her mother had been dead some years, and 
 Mrs. Rogers had kindly offered to chaperon 
 her in society. She then amused me with anec- 
 dotes of the neighborhood. She was an agree- 
 able conversationalist, and gifted with a rare 
 sense of humor; and before the evening was 
 over, I was laughing heartily at her sharp wit 
 and merry ways. I asked for music, and listened 
 entranced while she played the pieces I liked 
 best and sang my favorite songs. I grew inter- 
 ested in her, and was ready to declare her a 
 very nice young lady ; and my father looked 
 silently on, evidently well pleased that I was, 
 unconsciously, walking into the trap that was 
 set for me. 
 
 During tlie evening my step-mother brought 
 Ml her two children — two fine, sturdy boys — 
 and I fancied that she gave me a malicious 
 
 Ff« 
 
II .' . li i il i i r i 1 l | i ||J_Jii 
 
 36 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 glance as I watched them playing around their 
 father's knee. ** This is the reason," I thoucrht 
 bitterly, " why he is so anxious forme to marry 
 well. He wishes to share his own wealth with 
 those boys; and I, his first-born, would be de- 
 frauded of my rights ! " 
 
 The next morning I rose early and sauntered 
 around the old place, recalling scenes of my 
 boyhood. I then wrote a long letter to Rose, 
 in which I assured her of my faithful love, and 
 promised never to forget her. 
 
 In the anxious days tliat followed I waited 
 in vain for an answer. None came. I wrote 
 again and again with the same result. " She 
 has forgotten me," I thought, bitterly ; " some 
 wealthier rival has taken my place." Yet I 
 loved her, blindly, madly ; and, in spite of her 
 seeming indifference, she was ever in my 
 thoughts. I wrote to the manager of the theatre 
 in which she played, and in a few days received 
 an answer that dashed all my hopes away. She 
 had left the city, and he could obtain no clue to 
 her whereabouts. I now believed her false to 
 me, and, in a fit of jealous rage, devoted myself 
 more than ever to the fair Maud. I was con- 
 stantly at her side, and Mrs. Rogers took great 
 
 ,»A* 
 
id their 
 thoucrht 
 D niarrv 
 :th with 
 be cle- 
 
 untered 
 
 of my 
 
 D Rose, 
 
 )vc, and 
 
 waited 
 
 I wrote 
 
 '' She 
 
 " some 
 
 Yet I 
 
 : of her 
 
 in my 
 
 ; theatre 
 
 received 
 
 ly. She 
 
 3 clue to 
 
 false to 
 
 I myself 
 
 /as con- 
 
 Dk great 
 
 BRIGIirr^R SPHERES. yj 
 
 trouble to throw us in each other's society. She 
 was always planning some party, or driving ex- 
 pedition, which kept us in a whirl i f social life; 
 and as the days passed quickly by, I was sur- 
 prised to find how well I was enjoying niysef. 
 
 One dull, wet morning in the month of 
 February we were all seated around the break- 
 fast table, merrily laughing and talking, when a 
 telegram was handed to Maud. Her face 
 became deathly in its pallor, and she turned to 
 her aunt with a low cry. 
 
 " What is wrong ? " we all asked, breathlessly. 
 
 ••My father!" she sobbed. "He is dying! 
 Oh, I must go to him ! " 
 
 "You will have to wait," my father said, con- 
 sulting his watch. "There is no train for two 
 hours. Arthur will go with vou ; and if any- 
 thing happens you can return with him." 
 
 "Oh, no," she cried, turning to me with a 
 faint blush. "I could not think of troublin''- 
 \\x. Rogers." 
 
 "It is no trouble," I replied. " If you will 
 accept me as your escort I shall deem it an 
 honor." 
 
 She thanked me with a sad smile, and in a 
 few hours we started on our journey. 
 
 'in 
 
 
MHi 
 
 E^SKK 
 
 1-M-.W 
 
 i' ' ! t 
 
 38 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 It took me all my time and attention to cheer 
 the drooping spirits of my fair companion. We 
 found the old gentleman sinking fast ; the 
 doctor gave no hopes. Indeed he seemed only 
 to be living till his daughter's arrival. I was an 
 unwilling witness to a sad scene that followed, 
 for Maud insisted on my entering the room 
 with her. I saw, in the subdued light of the 
 sick-room, a feeble sufferer with hollow cheek? 
 and starinr^ eyes, which plainly told that deat'i 
 had marivf .im as a victim. Maud kncIl 
 quietly by the bedside — a gentle figure, half 
 child, half-woman. " Father," she said, brokenjv 
 *'I am here." 
 
 " My poor child," he said, faintly. " What 
 is to become of you when I am gone ? " 
 
 " Don't," she pleaded. " Don't think of it." 
 
 "But I must," he said, feebly. "Alone in 
 this desolate world, young and wealthy. Wlio 
 is that there } " he added, turning towards mo. 
 
 " It is a friend," Maud replied. " Young 
 Mr. Rogers ; he has been very kind to me." 
 
 "Come here," the dying man said to me; 
 "draw closer that I may see your face." 
 
 I did so, and seemed to feel the searching 
 gaze of his sharp eyes. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 39 
 
 to cheer 
 )n. We 
 
 ist ; the 
 led only 
 I was an 
 ollovvcd, 
 he room 
 t of the 
 V cheek? 
 at deat'i: 
 id knelt 
 are, half 
 )roken]v 
 
 " What 
 
 ik of it." 
 \lone in 
 ^. Who 
 ards rne. 
 " Young 
 me. 
 
 1 to me; 
 
 »» 
 
 searching 
 
 " I knew you as a boy," he went on in the 
 same feeble voice, "and you have greatly 
 changed. You are the only one near me 
 whom I can trust. Will you grant a favor to a 
 dying man .-* ' 
 
 " What is it } " I asked, bending over him, 
 while Maud gave me a grateful glance. 
 
 " My child ! " he answered. " I have . a 
 strange presentiment that sorrow will over- 
 shadow her young life. I have guarded her 
 jealously from all care. Will you promise mc, 
 if she ever needs a friend, to help her?" 
 
 " Gladly," I answered. " She shall never 
 need a friend while I live." 
 
 " Thank you," he murmured ; " your father is 
 to be her sole guardian, and may God deal with 
 you as you deal with her." His voice seemed 
 to die away, and he sank into a deep slumber. 
 
 I made Maud lie down, promising to call her 
 if there was any change. 
 
 All through the dreary night I kept silent 
 watch. Once my eyelids closed and I must have 
 slept, for at daybreak I awoke with a start, and 
 glanced anxiously towards the bed. All was 
 still, and, going near, I perceived that death had 
 silently entered and seized its prey. I roused 
 
 1 
 
 it 
 
^^^^^^nmf^ 
 
 mmm 
 
 40 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 Maud and told her. She bore it calmly, stand- 
 ing mute in her sorrow, contemplating the loved 
 features, so awful in their last repose. 
 
 " I cannot realize it," she said to n.e in a 
 whisper. " Is he really dead ? and am I alone in 
 the pitiless world ? " 
 
 " Not alone," I said, gently ; " you forget your 
 aunt, my father, and last, but not least, myself" 
 
 " That is so different," she replied. '• Have 
 you never known a longing to be loved, to be 
 necessary to someone's happiness, or to have 
 some strong heart to lean upon, someone to 
 think for you, someone to love you ? Perhaps 
 men are d."ffc:ont," she went on; "perhaps you 
 do not mind, as women do. Life seems so 
 empty to look forward to — no mother's love, no 
 father's care, not even a gentle sister or manly 
 brother; I am alone, so utterly alone." 
 
 I knew not how to comfort her, yet I felt my 
 heart drawn to her in her loneliness. For the 
 moment Rose was forgotten, as 1 bent softly 
 over my fair companion and whispered gently: 
 "Let me have a right to protect you from those 
 gloomy thoughts. Try and forget that you are 
 alone in the world ; for remember, I promised 
 your father to take care of you." 
 
 1 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 41 
 
 'S. 
 
 I 
 
 .5 
 
 "You are very kind," she murmured. "I have 
 been thinking so much, my head aches. Death 
 is so awful, so mysterious ; the grave, so cold 
 and silent. What is it, I wonder, that lies be- 
 yond ? Is he dead forever ? Is he merely 
 nothing? or do you believe in another life in 
 which he still exists ? " 
 
 Some lines I had read, written by Blair, 
 flashed through my brain involuntarily — 
 
 **Tell us, ye dead ! Will none of you, in pity 
 To those you left behind, disclose the secret ? 
 O ! that some courteous ghost would blal) it out. 
 What 'tis you are, and we nni t shortly be 1 
 
 * * • Well —'tis no matter ; 
 
 A very little time will clear up all, 
 And make us learned as yuu are, and as close." * 
 
 " No," I said aloud, " there is no other life. I 
 cannot believe in a future state. But do not 
 dwell on such things. We know that he is free 
 from suffering." 
 
 She gave a low shudder — " I don't like to think 
 of him as dead forever. He was so good — my 
 poor father — and he believed in another exist- 
 ence. I like to picture him in the enjoyment of 
 it. And," she went on, in a plaintive voice, " I 
 was not brought up like other childi en. I never 
 
 * lilair — The Grave. 
 
 I 
 
 ,JfI 
 
 i 'I \ 
 
42 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 had a loving voice to speak to me of God and 
 heaven." 
 
 •• Don't talk like that," I said, sharply ; " there 
 is nothing in all that nonsense. Religion has 
 no foundation. Come downstairs, away from 
 this chamber of death, and you will feel better." 
 
 *' Oh, no," she replied, " I must stay with him. 
 I feel as if he knew that I was here. Something 
 seems to whisper in my heart that he still exists. 
 It is the first time that I have come in contact 
 with death, and it oppresses me. Can you not 
 feel its mysterious power ? " 
 
 " It is natural," I replied ; " everyone must 
 die; it is the end of all mankind. To the young 
 and happy it is full of terror, and I think it 
 would be a tyrant to the rich and self-indulgent ; 
 but to the wretched and poor it has no terror." 
 
 " I know that," she answered, "for it brings 
 them peace. But what comes afterwards } Can 
 you tell me .'' " 
 
 " Nothing," I replied. " Have I not already 
 told you my belief .-* There is no other life: 
 there is no God." 
 
 "Go," she cried, turning from me, "I would 
 rather be alone, as I must henceforth be in life> 
 with none to pity me, none to comfort me." 
 
 ' I 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 43 
 
 d and 
 
 * there 
 )n has 
 r from 
 etter." 
 K him. 
 ething 
 exists, 
 ontact 
 ou not 
 
 : must 
 young 
 link it 
 ilgent ; 
 ;error." 
 brincfs 
 ? Can 
 
 I saw that she was growing hysterical, and I 
 went downstairs and sought the house-keeper 
 — a kind, motherly soul — and sent her up with 
 some refreshment. She returned in a short time 
 and told me that she had " coaxed Miss Maud to 
 her room," and that her sorrow had been forgotten 
 in a refreshing slumber. 
 
 The next few days I was kept very busy, as 
 I had to make all arrangements for the funeral. 
 The day after it took place I advertised the 
 house to let, and returned home, accompanied 
 by Maud — a sad little figure in sombre garments. 
 Yet )rrow had added to her beauty, and given 
 her pensive loveliness that was pleasing to the 
 eyr and when at times the image of Rose came 
 before me, I would contrast her as some glow- 
 ing flower, of which her name was a type, with 
 Maud, who reminded me of a pale, drooping lily. 
 
 dready 
 IX life : 
 
 would 
 : inlife^ 
 
 • » 
 
 le. 
 
 
1 "^ 
 
 44 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PROSPECTS OF A WEDDING, 
 
 \\ 
 
 The long winter months passed away into 
 spring, and I now began to tire of the life I 
 was leading at home, and thought with regret 
 of the gay time I had had in New York. I 
 longed for the excitement of the gaming table, 
 the social dinners at the club, the brilliant 
 receptions in society, and all that had made life 
 a pleasure. My stepmother, too, had cast aside 
 her mask. All the amiable smiles that had at 
 first greeted me were gone, and she was once 
 more the tyrant I had always known her. She 
 sought many ways to annoy me, and was the 
 cause of many quarrels between me and my 
 father, who seemed to think her the model of 
 all things good. 
 
 One stormy, wet afternoon, I made up my 
 mind to return to New York. I was in a fit of 
 angry impatience, and sought my father in the 
 library. He was writing at his desk, and his 
 "Wife sat reading near the window. They both 
 
 I 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 4S 
 
 gave mc a look of surprise, as I announced 
 my intention of returning to New York. 
 
 " Please }'ourself," my father said coldly, " but 
 what of Maud ? " 
 
 *' Main' ! " I echoed blankly. " Why, what 
 has she got to do with it ? " 
 
 " You act the innocent part well," sneered 
 Mrs. Rogers. 
 
 '* I don't know what you mean," I retorted 
 sharply. 
 
 " Then you must be a bigger scamp than I 
 took you for," she answered, " and quite devoid 
 of all honor." 
 
 " Do you think," my father went on in the 
 same cold tone, "that, after striving to gain a 
 woman's love and affection, you can throw it 
 aside like a worthless weed ? I am surprised at 
 you." 
 
 " But," I said hotly, " I have never thought of 
 such a thing. You know well my heart was 
 given to another before I ever saw Maud, and 
 I only regard her as a friend, or sister." 
 ■ Mrs. Rogers gave vent to a low scornful 
 laugh. " Does a man loiter in the mooii.^ht, 
 whispering sweet nothings to Jtis sisteVy seeking 
 her company at all times, and paying every 
 
 
 i.-h\ 
 
 .Jl 
 
 ffj 
 
 
 ^'. '''i 
 
'I -« 
 
 ill 
 
 11 
 
 4« 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 lover-like attention to her ? " she asked, mock- 
 ingly. 
 
 1 gave her a quiet look of contempt, and 
 turned to my father. " Why don't you speak 
 out," I said, "and tell me at once that you wish 
 me to marry Maud because she is rich ? " 
 
 "Well," he said, uneasily, "you have made 
 it an understood thing ; it is your own fault ; 
 the whole neighborhood looks upon you as 
 engaged, and you are in duty bound to marry 
 this girl ; or, he added, you are no son of mine." 
 
 "But Maud herself," I protested; "she may 
 object. I don't see what happiness can result 
 from such a marriage. I have been blind not 
 to foresee this. I suppose it was all your 
 scheme," I added, confronting Mrs. Rogers. 
 
 *' Indeed ! " she sneered, "how ungrateful you 
 are. One would think you were asked to 
 commit some crime, instead of marrying a 
 young and pretty girl." 
 
 " I wish I had never come here," I said 
 fiercely. "If I had only remained in New 
 York, I might have been happily married to 
 Rose." 
 
 Mrs, Rogers gave an affected laugh, "What 
 a pity ! " she said, in a sarcastic voice ; " it is too 
 
 ■i 
 
BRIGHTER srilERES. 
 
 47 
 
 bad that you missed such an honor. Fancy 
 introducing that creature — that play-actress — 
 to me, as your wife." 
 
 " Indeed," I replied, with a sneer, " were she 
 my wife, I would not care to introduce her to 
 you." 
 
 •' Enough of this," my father intcr[)oscd. " Ar- 
 thur, you forget yourself. My dear," he added, 
 turning to his wife, " will you kindly leave us?" 
 
 •' Don't mind that boy," she said, rising and 
 moving languidly across the room, " I never 
 expect anything better from him. I only pity 
 M lud, if she marries him." With this parting 
 thrust, she left the room. 
 
 '* So," I exclaimed, angrily, to my father, 
 " you and your wife have decided my fate. I 
 am to have no voice in the matter — to have no 
 judgment of my own." 
 
 " You are unreasonable," my father replied. 
 " Can you not see that it is all for your good } 
 You will have a good, sensible wife, besides gain- 
 ing a small fortune. You cannot expect me 
 always to provide you with money. At my 
 death you will have very little, as 1 have my 
 wife and children to look af^er. ' 
 
 " I know that," I replied, moodily ; " they are 
 
 1 
 
 4i 
 
 fit 
 
 ..i«/,i.£ 
 
 "V, 
 
 t? 
 
 Bfi 
 
 i\ 
 
 5- '11 ff 
 
T 
 
 ,>.,fi.-iaffl»B 
 
 t 
 
 ' ■ 
 
 , t 
 
 If 
 
 , [ 
 
 .i 
 
 ' M 
 
 i 
 
 ,■ 1 
 
 f 
 
 t- 
 
 
 ■■!,, : 
 
 48 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 your lirst thought ; it makes no difference 
 whether I am happy or not." 
 
 "You are talking nonsense," he retorted; 
 "you will have everything to make you happy; 
 it is your own fault if you are not so. But 
 think the matter over, there is no hurry." 
 
 And think it over I did, in the quiet solitude 
 of the night. It was not the prospect of marry- 
 ing Maud that angered me, so much as not 
 having my own way. No doubt if they had 
 wanted me to marry some one else, I should then 
 have desired Maud in preference to any other 
 woman. " After all," I thought, ** she may 
 refuse me. She is a girl of sense, and can see 
 for herself that I have very little love to offer 
 her." But did I love her } that was the question 
 I asked myself, over and over. No, I fc!t quite 
 sure that I could admire, pity her, but could 
 not love her as she deserved to be loved, for I 
 knew that she was a good woman, and I felt 
 myself unworthy of her. 
 
 The next day I took a better view of the 
 matter. It was a hot, sultry Sunday, a day 
 that sometimes comes to us in spring-time, when 
 the sun shines as hot, and the birds sing as 
 gaily, as in midsummer. 
 
BRlGirniR SrilEKES. 
 
 49 
 
 I spent the day in my own room trying to 
 make up my mind. " Many a man might do 
 worse," I thought; "she is pretty, graceful, and 
 wealthy. Perhaps it would be the best thing I 
 could do to marry her, if she is willing. Rose 
 is lost to me," I thought bitterly, " and is, no 
 doubt, happy with some other man. Why should 
 I not be happy also ? " 
 
 Towards evening my spirits rose, showing 
 the fickle nature I possessed, and I determined 
 to speak to Maud at once. 
 
 Knowing that she often spent Sunday even- 
 ings in the garden, which was one of her favorite 
 haunts, I went out to enjoy my cigar, in the hope 
 of meeting her and hearing her answer to my 
 proposal. 
 
 It was a lovely, balmy evening. A soft shower 
 had just fallen, which had refreshed the parched 
 earth, and cooled the atmosphere, making it a 
 pleasure to inhale the fragrant air. Across the 
 meadows came the faint ringing of distant bells. 
 Overhead a silvery moon kept silent watch over 
 the peaceful scene, and I began to wonder, in 
 an uncertain way, if it could but speak, what 
 wonders it might relate, what secrets it might 
 reveal. 
 
^f 
 
 50 
 
 BRIG II 1 'i:j< spheres. 
 
 i:A 
 
 rh'j calm, peaceful serenity of the hour seemed 
 to impress me with a sense of unworthiness, 
 and some new-born power seemed to rise within 
 me — a something which I could not define. Per- 
 haps it was the mysterious voice of nature, 
 which sometimes appeals to man ; or was it a 
 gleam of divinity, held out to mock my darkened 
 soul, and then withdrawn ? for the hour was not 
 yet come — the hour when all darknes*; ould 
 pass away, and my wondcri/ig soul behoid the 
 eternal light. 
 
 A slight noise behind mc attracted my atte n- 
 tion. It broke the spell ; the delight of the 
 moment was gone. 1 turned round, and 
 mechanically retraced my steps to the spot 
 from whence the sound came, for it sounded 
 like some one in distress. I pulled aside some 
 bushes that overhung a garden chair, and per- 
 ceived the outline of a woman's figure, " Is 
 anything wrong ? " I asked. " Who are you ? " 
 At the sound of my voice the figure rose to a 
 standing position, and with surprise I beheld, in 
 the set full moonlight, the features of Maud. 
 
 " Speak," I cried, " and tell me what is wrong; 
 has anything happened "i " 
 
 " You ! " she cried, " how dare you speak to 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 51 
 
 mc ? " and I felt, rather than saw, the anger and 
 contempt depicted on her countenance. "Is it 
 not enough," she went on, " that you have 
 caused me such misery ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I said, in a tone of 
 surprise ; '' how am I the cause of your sorrow ? " 
 
 " My aunt has told me all," she said, brokenly ; 
 she has accused me of striving to win your love, 
 and vainly encouraging your attention ; and 
 that I, having lost all maidenly reserve, have 
 given you my affection unasked." 
 
 " She is a demon ! " I interrupted. 
 
 "Oh! it is unbearable," she went on, "and 
 unjust. I thought you all that was good and 
 noble, and almost unconsciously my heart 
 found in you a hero. Now," she added, " it is 
 all ended ; leave me, well satisfied with the 
 misery you have caused." 
 
 " No," I said sternly, " not till you have heard 
 what I have to say. Your aunt has told you her 
 story, no doubt with exaggeration. I said * 
 things yesterday, in my anger, that were not 
 meant to be repeated. I know not what you 
 think, or what you have heard ; but I do know 
 that this evening I came out here to look for 
 you with the puroose of asking you to be my 
 wife." 
 
 •,<« 
 
5« 
 
 BRIGIITER SPHERES. 
 
 She gazed at me for an instant in silent 
 doubt. " You are jesting," she stammered. 
 
 " No," I answered, as calmly as I could, " I 
 am in downright earnest; I here ask you, 
 solemnly, to be my wife." 
 
 " Oh ! ' she exclaimed, " what am I to 
 believe ? Your manner speaks the truth ; if I 
 have wronged you, I am sorry." 
 
 " Don't think of that," I said cheerfully ; " but 
 I am waiting for an answer to my question." 
 
 " Not now," she said, hurriedly. " I must 
 have time ; I want to think. Are you quite sure 
 you did not speak through pity ? " 
 
 "Quite sure," I answered, smiling, "but think 
 it over and let your own heart decide. This 
 day week I will be here in this spot, at this 
 hour, and then you can ^wq me your answer, 
 which I trust will be a favorable one. We can 
 be quietly married and go away to some far 
 distant land, where we will forget all this un- 
 ,pleasantness, all this sorrow." 
 
 " I would like that," she said, eagerly, " for I 
 could not live with my aunt any longer. I am 
 so sorry that I have misjudged you." 
 
 •* Forget it all," I said, " and do not let your 
 aunt influence you in this matter. I know her 
 
BKIGIITKR SPHERES. 
 
 53 
 
 better than you do, and she would do anything 
 to injure me. I know that I am not a good 
 man, but I will do all in my power to make you 
 happy." 
 
 " I trust you," she said, softly ; " nothing shall 
 make me doubt you again ; " and we walked, in 
 silence, towards the house. Before we said 
 good-night, I made Maud promise to keep the 
 matter quiet until the week was up ; " for then," 
 I said, playfully, " I shall know my fate." 
 
 I was greatly surprised to think how anxious 
 I was for a marriage that seemed so distasteful 
 to mo the day before. " It is her very unwilling- 
 ness," I thought. " If she had been more eager 
 to accept me I might not think so much of it." 
 
 But it is ever so. Human nature will ah -ays 
 be thus — people always longing, striving for 
 something beyond their reach ; and if perchance 
 they attain the coveted object, it instantly loses 
 its greatest value. 
 
 At the end of the week I won a shy consent 
 to my proposal, and I thought it best to inform 
 my father at once. He seemed to be expecting 
 it, and congratulated me warmly. " You are a 
 lucky boy," he said, '*to win such a wife." 
 
 Mrs. Rogers took the matter coolly, and said 
 
 4 
 
 '11 
 
54 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 something about being very glad. But there 
 was no answering gladness in my heart, for I 
 knew her deceitful ways. 
 
 " You tried to turn Maud against me," I said 
 to her one day; but she only gave a sneering 
 laugh. 
 
 " I believe," I said angrily, " that you wanted 
 to get rid of the girl." 
 
 " Perhaps so," she said, knowingly. And, in 
 after years, I knew that it was so. When she 
 thought that I would not marry Maud, she 
 planned to make her life miserable, and so 
 drive her from her home. 
 
 We arranged to have the wedding take place 
 early in August. It was to be private, on 
 account of Mr. Waters' death, and only a few 
 distant relations were notified. We all spent the 
 summer months at a fashionable seaside summer 
 resort, and Maud seemed very happy. I was 
 very attentive to her, and gave her many costly 
 presents. Afterwards I was glad to think it had 
 been so, and that for a short time I had con- 
 tributed to make her happy ; and if at times 
 the image of another face rose before me — a face 
 with dark, haunting eyes that I had once loved — 
 I thrust the memory from me, and no one 
 
 n 
 
BRrailTKR S PI IF. RES. 
 
 55 
 
 guessed the unsatisfied longing and deep yearn- 
 ing of my heart. 
 
 My father was in great glee at the approach- 
 ing wedding. He arranged for me to have a 
 yearly income, that I might not be dependent 
 on my wife's bounty. Poor Maud, in her loving 
 trust and confidence in me, had given me the 
 management of her wealth. This was the 
 worst thing that she could have done. Money 
 had always led me into evil; and with wealth 
 at my command I would surely go to ruin. 
 
 With the first of August came our wedding 
 day, and nature seemed to have put on her 
 fairest aspect to usher it in. Never did the sun 
 shine brighter, or the birds sing sweeter, the 
 flowers breathe choicer perfumes than they did 
 on that morning. " Surely," I thought, *' it is 
 a good omen, and our future will be as fair and 
 cloudless as yonder sky. Alas ! how could I 
 foretell the trouble that was in store for us ; how 
 could I see into the dark vista of futurity and 
 read there the misery that was to come 1 
 
 
 ■m 
 
 
 
I... I 
 
 56 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 Weddings are an every-day occurrence, and are 
 so familiar to every one that I think it useless 
 to describe mine. We started for Paris the 
 same day, and after spending two months in 
 travelling we returned to New York and took 
 up our abode. It was the worst place I could 
 have chosen, for it was filled with old associates, 
 old haunts, and old memories. 
 
 My old friends were not long in finding me 
 out, and they began inviting me around. I 
 soon neglected my home and sought amuse- 
 ment with them. At first Maud did not mind 
 this, but after a time the cruelty of my neglect 
 began to dawn on her, and she would remon- 
 strate with me, and ask me where I spent my 
 time. I would always have some excuse ready, 
 and gradually her loving trust in me began to 
 fade. It would have been better if I had told her 
 all my weakness and temptation, for she might 
 have saved me even then ; but I chose my own 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 57 
 
 path, and day by day wc drifted further and 
 further apart. I saw that my marriage had 
 been a mistake, a grievous mistake, that could 
 not be rectified, and the knowledge of it embit- 
 tered my life. 
 
 I soon began squandering my wife's wealth. 
 Some of it went to pay gambling debts ; some 
 of it was spent on pretty women. My own 
 income I considered a mere trifle, and spent it 
 as soon as I got it. 
 
 A life like this brought very little happiness, 
 Maud soon saw that she had been deceived in 
 mc ; that I was far from being the hero she had 
 thought me. We had no tastes in common ; 
 she had her friends, I had mine ; she amused 
 herself with others, so did I. But it soon 
 began to tell on her health ; she grew thin and 
 pale, and was but a ghost of her former self. 
 
 I will pass over the first year of such a life — a 
 year during which I grew worse instead of 
 better. Retribution, however, was soon to over- 
 take me, and I would suffer as I had sinned. 
 
 One afternoon I was seated alone in the 
 library, trying to read. I had been out till 
 dawn the day before, and was suffering from a 
 severe headache. Maud was downstairs in the 
 
 
i 
 
 i- ' 
 
 ■ I ii 
 
 $8 
 
 BRKJllTER SriIERKS. 
 
 drawing-room entertaining my father and his 
 wife, who had come to pay us a visit. So 
 engrossed was I with my miserable thoughts, 
 that one of the hired girls entered and spoke to 
 me twice before I noticed her. 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked, at last perceiving her. 
 
 ** Your father wishes to see you downstairs," 
 she said ; and I arose, languidly, and descended, 
 mentally wishing my father at his own home. 
 
 When I entered the drawing-room, an excited 
 group stood before me. At one end of tiic 
 room Mrs. Rogers was supporting the half- 
 fainting form of my wife, and in the centre of 
 the room my father stood, confronting a tall, 
 shabbily-dressed woman. 
 
 "What does this mean.!*" I cried. At the 
 sound of my voice the woman turned, and I 
 recognized the once pretty features of a young 
 girl with whose affections I had seriously 
 trifled some months before. I had almost for- 
 gotten the affair, until she stood before me like 
 some dread accuser. 
 
 " Villain ! " she cried, " I have tracked you at 
 last." 
 
 "What do you want, girl.?" I said, angrily. 
 "Ifit is money " 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 59 
 
 "What!" she exclaimed. "Money! will 
 money brinj^ back my lost girlhood, my lost 
 home ? Aye, lady," she said, turning to Maud, 
 who had sunk helplessly into the nearest chair, 
 " once I was pure as yonder flowers that bloom 
 unblemished, until he crossed my path and 
 flattered me with his promises of love ; and, 
 innocent of the world and the wickedness of 
 man, I listened and I fell. For his sake I left 
 my happy home, my aged father and the loving 
 friends of my childhood. For his sake I would 
 have sacrificed my soul ; and in return, he offers 
 me money ! But he soon tired of his pretty 
 plaything — tired, as he will one day tire of you, 
 lady, for his guilty nature cannot love. When 
 I learned the truth, my whole being rose in 
 rebellion against such a cruel wrong, and I 
 swore to be revenged. Fven now that I have 
 destroyed the peace of his home I am not 
 satisfied, and I will not rest until he has become, 
 as I have, a homeless, friendless wanderer." 
 
 " Speak, Arthur," Mrs. Rogers exclaimed, 
 crossing over to where I stood, the picture of 
 despair. " Why don't you order her from the 
 house } the creature must be mad." 
 
 •' No, lady, I am not mad," the girl said in a 
 
 
 
 '■hi. 
 
T 
 
 P^ 
 
 €o 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 choked voice. " Perhaps, did you suffer the 
 misery that I have suffered, you would indeed 
 be m-id. Sometimes I wonder that I am not 
 so. You are a woman, with a woman's heart, 
 a woman's instinct, you can pity mc." She 
 laid one thin hand on Mrs. Rogers' arm for an 
 instant, but that worthy drew back with an 
 affected shudder, as if there was contamination 
 in the touch. 
 
 " How dare you ? " she hissed in an angry 
 tone. 
 
 But the poor, wronged creature was equal to 
 
 the occasion. Drawing herself proudly up, she 
 
 said in vibrating tones, "And who are you that I 
 
 am not fit to touch ? You think yourself mighty 
 
 fine, do you not ? You imagine yourself a lady 
 
 because you have fine silks and jewellery, yet 
 
 I, in my rags, am your equal, and," she added, 
 
 " were you the queen of the universe, and I but 
 
 the veriest wretch of all nature's creation, still 
 
 would I think myself as good as you. But, '' 
 
 she went on in softer tones, " why should I seek 
 
 your pity ? why should I need your help } 
 
 soon I shall be beyond the reach of human aid 
 
 Perhaps, ere another day shall dawn, aye, a 
 
 perhaps ere yonder sun shall set, I will have 
 
liRlGIlTER SPHERES, 
 
 sunk into oblivion 'ncath the angry waters that 
 are ever ready to engulf the wretched ; then 
 your pity cannot help me; then I shall have 
 peace. Keep your money," she added, sternly, 
 as my father offered her some. " Of what use 
 is it to me ? " 
 
 She turned and groped her way towards the 
 door, and then paused and looked once more 
 to where I still stood. " As for you," she hissed, 
 "the author of my misery, may Heaven's bitter- 
 est curse descend upon you, and on your chil- 
 dren ; aye, and on your children's children! 
 May your life be as miserable as you have made 
 mine! May you die, as I shall die, comfortless, 
 cheerless and alone ! " Her voice died away 
 faintly, and she was gone. 
 
 My father followed her into the hall, and I 
 left the room by another door, for I felt just 
 then as if I could not meet Maud's reproachful 
 gaze ; one glimpse of her sad tace had told me 
 that her trust in me was gone for ever. 
 
 I seized my hat and hurried from the house, 
 to seek diversion with my companions amidst 
 the gaiety of the large city, for I wanted to for- 
 get the unpleasant scene I had just goJie through. 
 No matter how hard I strive d, I could not. 
 

 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 'i 
 
 62 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 efface the memory of the white, despairing and 
 reproachful face of the girl I had wronged. 
 What a contrast, I thought, in this creature 
 and the pretty maiden I had known her. Then 
 she was a gentle, loving girl, in the bloom of 
 youth, just entering the borderlands of woman- 
 hood, the pride and joy of her aged father, the 
 sunshine of her home. Yet misery had brought 
 about this change, transforming the loving, trust- 
 ing maiden into the wild, despairing woman. 
 And then I thought of Maud. She had blindly 
 trusted me. and I was slowly, but surely, crush- 
 ing all joy and beauty out of her young life, 
 letter for her if she had never seen my face ; 
 now she will not care if she never sees me again. 
 I thought, bitterly, of how I had lost all right 
 to her love and confidence ; but I had yet to 
 prove the depth of a woman's love, the strength 
 of a wife's devotion. 
 
 At this period of my life, I must have been 
 surrounded by evil spirits who were trying to 
 drag me down into the lowest depths of depra- 
 vity and sin, for on all sides evil tempted me ; 
 and in the weakness of my soul I listened to the 
 subtle voices that flashed like lightning through 
 my brain. Remorse fled into the obscure mists 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 63 
 
 of eternity, and evil reigned supreme master of 
 my soul. 
 
 "What do you care?" the voice seemed to 
 whisper. " Let other people be miserable. As 
 long as you enjoy life, what docs it matter how- 
 many hearts you break } There is no hereafter ; 
 life is short ; so why not enjoy it ? " And I 
 made up my mind to do so, and became hard 
 and defiant. 
 
 It was not till very late that I returned home. 
 All the inmates of the household had retired, 
 and were lost in peaceful slumber — the reward of 
 a pure conscience. Through the weary night I 
 slept at intervals — an uneasy and broken slumber 
 that brought me no refreshing rest ; and in the 
 morning light I awoke to find my father slowly 
 pacing the floor of my room. We had a stormy 
 interview that lasted some time, but little good 
 resulted from it. " You are a disgrace to your 
 name," my father said, passionately, " and, if you 
 do not change your mode of living, Maud will 
 have to sue for a divorce." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I sneered, "perhaps it would be 
 the best thing she could do, if it would bring 
 her any happiness." 
 
 " Oh," he went on, " it is too bad that she ever 
 
 » ■ 
 
 i 
 
 m^i 
 
 
 ■*: 
 
 

 64 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 married you, for you are not worthy of such a 
 wife. Even now she is ready to forgive and for- 
 get all, if you amend your life. Poor girl, she 
 thinks she is partly to blame. She says she did 
 not try hard enough to keep you at home. But 
 I know better ; it is your own evil nature that 
 has caused all this misery." 
 
 " It was you and your wife," I retorted, '* that 
 first put the idea of this marriage in my head ; 
 and you tried hard to bring it about. Now 
 that you behold the consequences, you wish to 
 transfer the blame to me." 
 
 ** Talk sense," he said, angrily. " I am going 
 home this evening, but will return at Christmas ; 
 and if things are not different, I will bring 
 Maud back home with me, and she will make 
 her home with us." 
 
 " I wonder what your amiable wife will say 
 to that," I replied. " I don't think she would 
 approve of it j she was in such a hurry last year 
 to get rid of Maud." 
 
 To this he did not deign any reply, but left 
 the room, loudly banging the door after him. 
 I did not see him again, for he left late that 
 afternoon for home, accompanied by his wife. 
 I was out when they left, and did not return 
 
BRICiriER SPHERES. 
 
 65 
 
 home u:itil the sh.idcs of night had already- 
 descended on the city. 
 
 Never did my residence look so homelike to 
 me as it did that evening. The low easy chairs, 
 placed invitingly around, gave a look of comfort 
 to the drawing-room, while a genial warmth, 
 mingled with the perfume of flowers, pervaded 
 the atmosphere. Through the curtained door- 
 way that led into another room came the soft 
 strains of sweet music, and I stood in silence to 
 listen. It was Maud, playing to herself in the 
 darkness, and she seemed to be pouring forth 
 her whole soul in a flood of sad melody. 
 
 Music had always impressed me, and often it 
 seemed to sooth the throbbings of my spirit, 
 and still the disquietude within me. I had often 
 wondered what it was in music that appealed 
 alike to the great and humble, to the ignorant 
 and the wise. To me it was the greatest of 
 human joys, lifting the enraptured soul above 
 the cares of the weary world, and ennobling it 
 with pure thoughts. The music suddenly stopped 
 and Maud came softly towards me, laying her 
 hand gently on my arm. 
 
 " Perhaps you would like to hear," she said. 
 
 in. 
 
 a. 
 
 li«j 
 
 (■'ii 
 
 ':il 
 
 ffi 
 
t'. 1 : 
 
 (.(i 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 "tliat I have provided a home for that poor 
 girl that was liere yesterday." 
 
 "It has nothing to do with me," I said, roughly. 
 
 She drew back, with a low sigh. *' Will you 
 not stay at home to-night?" she asked, after a 
 slight pause. 
 
 *• I have an appointment," I said, hurriedly ; 
 " I must go out again." 
 
 ** It is always something to take you from 
 home," she answered. 
 
 " I did not marry you to be ordered about like 
 an overgrown school-boy," I retorted. "I will 
 stay in on Sunday. I have so many friends 
 who are always inviting me around." 
 
 " Do you never remember your home ? " she 
 asked. " I have been thinking," she went on, 
 " that we ought to go away for a short time ; it 
 would perhaps make a change ; I am tired of 
 this.' 
 
 "You can go, if you want a change," I 
 answered. " I am going to remain." 
 
 She made no reply ; she evidently saw that 
 it was useless. The matter was dropped there, 
 and the old life went on as before ; the months 
 lengthened into winter and Christmas was 
 approaching, and still there was no change. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RETURN OF A LOST LOVE. 
 
 One evening I was just leaving home, and at 
 the steps that led to the door I encountered the 
 figure of a woman in the act of ascending. 
 
 "Who do you wish to see?" I inquired. 
 " Mrs. Rogers is not at home." 
 
 " It is you I want," she replied. " Don't you 
 
 know me ? " 
 
 " Rose ! " I exclaimed, " is it really you } " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " I have tried hard to 
 find you. I must be greatly changed, since you 
 did not know me." 
 
 '• Come in," I said, hastily, "out of the cold ; 
 my wife is at the opera, and will net be home 
 for some hours." 
 
 She followed me into the library, and, in the 
 glare of the gaslight, I saw that she had grown 
 pale and thin, and was poorly clad — quite a con- 
 trast to when I saw her last. I drew a chair 
 
 W 
 
 Si 'I J 
 '' 1 
 
 '■'%% 
 
TJ7™ f"^^. 
 
 !'. ':iii 
 
 68 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 forward for her, and she seated herself with a 
 weary sigh. 
 
 " Now," I said, " we can talk unmolested. 
 First tell me why you answered none of my 
 letters ? " 
 
 "Your letters ! " she cried, in well-feigned sur- 
 prise, " what letters ? " 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that you never 
 received my letters?" I asked, incredulously. 
 
 " No," she said, slowly, shaking her head. " I 
 never heard from you since you left New York, 
 and I came to the conclusion that you had for- 
 gotten me. I read of your marriage in the 
 papers, and I tried to forget that I had ever 
 known you." 
 
 " And I thought you were false," I said, bitter- 
 ly. " I waited in vain for an answer to my letters, 
 and, when none came, I thought you had 
 married some one else. Oh ! why did you not 
 give me some token — some sign that you were 
 still true to me ? " 
 
 " I was sick for a long time," she answered. 
 " After I threw up my engagement at the theatre, 
 I went over to Canada, but could obtain no 
 employment ; and then I fell sick. As soon 
 as I recovered; I returned here, and, as I was in 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 69 
 
 want, and having no other friend to apply to, 
 I thought of you. I saw you several times on 
 the street, and followed you home the other 
 evening ; that was how I found out where you 
 lived. I thought, perhaps, in memory of our old 
 love and happy days together, you would assist 
 me a little." 
 
 " Why, of course, my dear girl," I exclaimed. 
 " Why did you not apply to me before ? Do 
 you not know how I have longed for a sight of 
 your face } " 
 
 " Hush," she said, " remember you are 
 married." 
 
 " Yes," I said, bitterly, " married but not 
 happy. Did you think that such a marriage 
 was likely to be a happy one ? " 
 
 " Do you remember," she said, thoughtfully, 
 " all our old happy days ? How you used to love 
 me! Then I did not know my own heart, but 
 now I know that I love you." 
 
 *' Don't ! " I pleaded, " the remembrance of it 
 grieves me ; those days are gone forever ; why 
 recall them } Another now stands between us, 
 and our love is useless." 
 
 1 gazed at her with a look of untold misery. 
 "O Rose," I added, "it is so hard to bear! 
 
 
 ifi 
 
 '-■ Jt 
 

 1 ipli' 
 
 i 
 
 i i m 
 
 70 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 You were cruel not to have sent me some word 
 of your )ove, some token of your constancy. If 
 you had done so, all this might have been 
 averted." 
 
 " It is our fate," she said, with a low sigh of 
 regret. 
 
 *' No," I said, as I rose and impatiently paced 
 the floor, " I am not going to submit to this. 
 There is divorce open to me, for I still love you, 
 and cannot live without you. How often have 
 I recalled our promises of love, our bright 
 dreams for the future, now faded and gone." 
 
 "I must go," she said, rising hurriedly to her 
 feet. " Your wife must never know of this visit." 
 
 " I will go with you," I said, hastily. " I intend 
 to look after you now." 
 
 "How good you are!" she murmured, softly, 
 as we went out together into the chill November 
 air. 
 
 I soon secured her comfortable lodgings in a 
 fashionable quarter of the city, and we parted 
 with a promise to meet again the next day. 
 But this was only the beginning of many meet- 
 ings, and I often cursed the fate that separated 
 me from the woman I still loved ; for, at first 
 sight of her, all the old love had returned with 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 71 
 
 renewed force. I kept her amply supplied with 
 money, dresses and jewellery ; at times I forgot 
 to be cautious, and would be seen with her driv- 
 ing on Broadway, or seated in the opera, under 
 the public gaze. 
 
 Somehow the story was carried to Maud ; 
 and one morning at the breakfast table she 
 broached the subject. 
 
 " What have I ever done," she said, sadly, 
 " that you should show me such little respect ? ** 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I asked, calmly. 
 " What is the matter now ? " 
 
 " How disingenuous you arc!" she rejoined; 
 " why, it is the talk of the whole city. You are 
 frequently seen in company with another woman, 
 while I, your wife, am neglected at home, to be 
 pitied and talked of." 
 
 "You are too sensitive," I replied, calmly, 
 "you should not mind what people say." 
 
 " And is this life to go on always } " she asked, 
 impatiently. " Is there never to be a change ">. " 
 
 " Since you are so unhappy, why not sue for 
 a divorce } " I rejoined. 
 
 '* No," she said, with a shudder, " anything but 
 that. I could not stand the public exposure of 
 the court ; and in the end what should I gain } 
 
 I' fi 
 
 \% 
 
 r- if fl 
 
 
^ ■ ip 
 
 
 til 
 
 73 
 
 BRIGIirER SPHERES, 
 
 The woman is always the one to blame in a case 
 of that kind. No matter how innocent she may 
 be, the world fmds fault with her. And," she 
 added, "though my burden is a heavy one, I must 
 bear it to the end." 
 
 I made no reply, but silently loft the room ; 
 and, a few hours after, I was lauc^hin^r and talk- 
 ing- joyfully with Rose. I had now grown reck- 
 less, and I spent all my spare time in her society. 
 She always greeted me with her sweetest smiles, 
 luring mc from the path of duty into the road 
 of destruction. At last I grew tired of the de- 
 ceptive life I was leading, and determined to 
 break the chains that bound me, and flee to 
 some unknown country with Rose. It took me 
 some time to make up my mind to do this, for 
 T needed money. Rose was very extravagant 
 and spent money as if it was picked up, and I 
 knew that I would have to be well supplied with 
 it before I ventured on the contemplated step : 
 so 1 patiently waited my chance, v/ithout a sting 
 of remorse for the cruel wron<j[- I was inllictincf 
 on my wife. I comforted myself with the 
 idea that marriage was no marriage unless 
 there was perfect love. " It is only with Rose," 
 I thought, " that I can find happiness — I^iaud 
 
n 
 
 nRlGIlTEK SI 'I 11: RES. 
 
 t :> 
 
 will be better without me." In after years I 
 reviewed tliis part of my life with sadness. 
 How often do we look back and si^h with 
 regret for what might have been ! 
 
 About this time a change took place in Maud 
 which greatly astonished me. She became a 
 Christian. Hitherto she had expressed no set- 
 tled belief, and attended no church. Her life 
 had been devoted to fashion and i)leasure. 
 Now she suddenly changed her way of living 
 and became a member of a wealthy church 
 in the locality of our home, and all lier spare 
 time was spent in visiting the sick and dis- 
 tressed. She made no secret of her belief, and 
 would sometimes tell me her experiences. Once, 
 she commenced to relate some sermon to me, 
 but I interrupted her with an impatient gesture. 
 " You may believe all that rubbish," I said 
 sharply, '' but don't expect me to listen to it. 
 I may never believe there is any truth in 
 Christianity, and you will soon awake to find 
 that it is all false." 
 
 " Oh, no," she replied. " I have experienced 
 the comfort of religion, and the joy of doing 
 good. I feel sure of a state of existence beyond 
 the grave." 
 
 I 
 
 \ : 
 
 "if ' 
 
 ■m 
 
 4 ^ 
 
 V. ^4 
 
 "^--<iii 
 
 [h* "^ 
 
 ''^'''161 
 
 Wtti 
 
 
 
 
 H- ' 
 
 H 
 
 JmM 
 
BWi 
 
 74 
 
 BKICIl TICK SrilF.KKS. 
 
 " You hn.vc your head full of fancies," T ro 
 plied ; " you need not repeat them to nie, as 
 I never can be convinced of a future state." 
 
 Some time after this conversation Maud 
 suggested bringing her clergyman to see me, 
 but I flew into a rage and told her to let me 
 follow my own path in life, and she could do 
 likewise. She made no effort after this to re- 
 form me. I have thought since that she did 
 not go the right way about it, or did not right- 
 ly understand my character. 
 
 The week before Christmas my father arrived, 
 and he was awfully indignant when he heard of 
 Maud's conversion. 
 
 *' It is all your fault," he said to me, in anger. 
 "If you had treated your wife with the respect 
 due to her, she would not have joined the 
 Church. All they want from her is her money." 
 
 '• It is only a fancy, and pleases her," I said 
 indifferently ; " she will soon grow tired of it." 
 I thought it strange that my father said nothing 
 of the conversation we had together on his last 
 visit. But though he said nothing, I felt tliat he 
 watched me closely. Yet I managed to evade 
 him, and contrived to spend many pleasant 
 hours in the society of Rose. 
 
BRIGin'ER SPHERES. 
 
 75 
 
 One evening my father tried to prevent my 
 going out, and an angry scene ensued. I told 
 him, hotly, that I was my own master, and 
 would go where I pleased, and do as I pleased. 
 I then left the house, and sought Rose for com- 
 fort. She was looking unusually lovely, in an 
 evening toilet of some bright color, and some of 
 the jewels I had given her gleamed conspicu- 
 ously on the rounded arms, and encircled the 
 slender fingers. 
 
 " I am going away," I said abruptly. '* I will 
 leave New York next week." 
 
 She gave me a look of alarm. " Are you 
 going to desert me ? " she asked, sadly. 
 
 "Leave you, my darling! " I cried, " No — 
 you must come with me ; we will fly into 
 Canada, and live happily there." 
 
 " Do you really mean it ? " she exclaimed, 
 " or are you only jesting } " 
 
 *' No," I said, earnestly. " I have thought it 
 over for some time, and have at last determined 
 to fly." And then I pictured a new life for us 
 in a new country. She listened joyfully to all 
 my plans, and, before I said good-night, I 
 had arranged a plan for flight in the following 
 week. 
 

 k 
 
 
 i': 
 
 1 ' ! IHRii''" 
 
 ' 
 
 
 :(> 
 
 lUaCiri'ER SPHERES. 
 
 A few days afterwards I quietly helped my- 
 self to a few luindrcds of my wife's dollars, 
 comfortini^ myself with the plea that T had a 
 just claim to them. With this, added to my in- 
 come whicli had just come due, I intended to 
 start some business in Canada, lilverything was 
 now arranged, and to me the days seemed to 
 draL( on slowly. At last the week came to an 
 end, and on Saturday, as I was going out, Maud 
 came to me in the hall, looking very pale and 
 careworn in the dim light. 
 
 "Arthur," she said coaxingly, "you might 
 purchase tickets for our Bazaar. Spend some 
 mone)' in the cause, even if you don't wish to 
 attend it." 
 
 And 1, knowing that I would be far away at 
 the time in question, readily gave the required 
 promise, though I could not help feeling what 
 a villain 1 was for deceiving her; but it was only 
 a momentary pang, which soon i)assed awa)', 
 when I reflected that in a few da}'s I would be 
 alone with Rose, and know that she was mine 
 at last. 
 
 1 suppose by this time the reader looks upon 
 me as a very grievous sinner ; but spare me )'our 
 iudgment, for onlv he who beholds the stru<jLrles, 
 the temptations of a soul — he alone can judge! 
 
 m'^ 
 
BRKJUTER ^rilEKES. 
 
 77 
 
 CHAPTICR VIII. 
 
 8ll 
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 TllK night was dark and dreary. Overhead 
 huge clouds of intense darkness gatliered ami 
 rolled across the angry sky. jid in the distance 
 one coukl hear the low raLfintr of the uiiitw 
 blast as it swept through the almost dcsertrtl 
 
 streets. 
 
 I 1 
 
 uirriec 
 
 1 al 
 
 on< 
 
 ^»' 
 
 itl 
 
 witn wei 
 
 nui 
 
 ttlcd 
 
 figure and bent head, in the direction of Madi- 
 son Square, where I had arranged to meet Rose ; 
 for it was the m"ght we had ajjpointed for flight. 
 I fountl her anxiously waiting for me, and in .i 
 very short time we commenced our journe}-- I 
 experienced a feeling of relief, with a sense of 
 freedom, .'iik* einbarked on the fatal step witliout 
 a thought t/f apprehension for the future, or a 
 pang of regret for the past. 
 
 We decided to stay in Tonjnto ; and T fur- 
 nished a house there, and looked inountl me for 
 a safe investment for m\' mone}'. in this I was 
 not successful. 1 had no busine capacity, .ind 
 
 
 >ii' fi 
 
 
IT 
 
 ^^m^ 
 
 7S 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 I let things go on as they were. Funds soon 
 began to get low in Rose's extravagant hands. 
 In vain I remonstrated with her. She only 
 laughed at me, and told me there was plenty 
 more where that came from, and that I had a 
 rich father to ai)ply to. liut in this I knew 
 better than she did. I knew perfectly well that 
 it would be useless to apply to my father. I 
 should never again spend a cent of his money. 
 
 Some months passed by, and I began to 
 awaken from the glamour that had been cast 
 over me. T beheld manv traits in the character 
 of Rose that did not please me. In the first 
 place, she was an arrant flirt, and gathered a 
 miscellaneous sort of people at our house — peo- 
 I)le that I detested, one man in particular, a 
 tall, dark foreigner whom I will call Latondal. 
 1 thoroughly hated him ; he was always hovering 
 around Rose; and something in their conversa- 
 tion led me to believe that they had known each 
 other in earlier life, but I could never get Rose 
 to acknowledge it. 
 
 As the months sped quickly onward, T began 
 to grow curious as to how they regarded mc at 
 home. I had one friend in New York whom I 
 knew I could trust, and who was sure to be well 
 
BRIGUTER SPHERES. 79 
 
 *' posted " in all the news. So one day I wrote to 
 liim, and in a few days back came an answer 
 which somewhat startled me. I read first, that 
 1 was regarded in the city as a monster of 
 inc;ratitude and cruelty, and that I must have 
 been a heartless wretch, bringing disgrace on an 
 honored family and a stain on a spotless name. 
 Maud was seriously ill, and, at the time the 
 letter was written, she lay at the point of death. 
 The news of my flight, coupled with the loss 
 of iier money, had produced a severe shock to 
 her system, already weakened by the trials she 
 had gone through. 
 
 I could not help being touched with remorse, 
 and I told the contents of the 'etter to Rose, 
 expecting some sympathy from 1 :r. 
 
 " If Maud dies, it will be our fault," I said 
 moodily. 
 
 "Nonsense," she replied; *' ii might have 
 liappened if you had never left her but she will 
 get over it. People do not die so easily." 
 
 For once she was wrong. A da '■ or two later 
 I received a newspaper from nr friend, an- 
 nouncing the untimely death of " ]\ aud Waters, 
 wife of Arthur Rogers, aged twenty four." Rose 
 was in the room, and I silcntl}- hai ded her the 
 
 :% 
 
 It I 
 
 ■X'-u'--'' 
 
 Ij'i. 
 
■ ' 1 
 
 ".t ! 
 
 3?"* 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 
 8o 
 
 BRIG 11 TKR Srill'.KES. 
 
 paper, pointinfj to the paragraph ; but she took 
 it in a cool manner. "There is nothing to pre- 
 vent your marrying me now," she said indiffer- 
 ently ; and I, disgusted with her selfishness, 
 left the house, and went out into the evening air 
 to try and cahn my agitated thoughts. 
 
 " It is the second time in my life that I have 
 been the indirect cause of death," 1 said to ni)'- 
 self, bitterly. Then I recalled the many instances 
 of Maud's kindness to me, and how basely I had 
 repaid her. And then I remembered the ])ro- 
 mise I had made lier dying father, when the 
 presentiment of this evil had overshadowed him 
 — a promise never fulfilled, for I had badly 
 befriended his orphaned girl. 
 
 " It is useless to recall tlie past," 1 thought 
 sadly; "it is too late for. atonement,. I h;i\-e 
 gone too fir in the wa}' of sin ; " ami tliough the 
 world believed that Maud died of a nervous 
 fever produced by a severe shock, I knew that 
 she dietl of a broken heart. 
 
 Every day after the news of Maud's death 
 reached us Rose kept urging me for a speedy 
 marriage ; and in an evil hour I consented, little 
 thinking of the misery it was to cause me in 
 after vears. 
 
flRICHTKR SPHERES, 
 
 81 
 
 One dark, wet evening we were privately 
 married in the minister's drawing-room. There 
 were two witnesses present ; and only one fact 
 prevented entire happiness for Rose — she com- 
 plained of not having enough money, and at the 
 dull life she was leading, compared with the 
 gay one she had been accustomed to. 
 
 " Why don't you write to your father for 
 money ? " she said to me one day. 
 
 " If you would be less lavish with your bills, 
 there would be no necessity for asking anyo:ie 
 for money," I answered. 
 
 '' What do you expect me to do ? " si j queried. 
 " I must live. This i)lace is so dull. I want 
 some excitement." 
 
 •' What more do you want } " I asked. " You 
 are never satisfied. Vou have the Ixst dress 
 and the finest jewellery of any lady in the 
 City. 
 
 *' And what is the use of it all .'' " she grumbled. 
 *' I am sick of this place." 
 
 " Let us try Montreal," I suggested. '• I 
 might find employment there ; for, unle>s money 
 comes from some puint, we are ruined." 
 
 At lirst she objected, but gradually gave in ; 
 
 and a few weeks later saw us installed in com- 
 
 6 
 
 1^ 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 \ n 
 
in 
 
 
 11 
 
 iflir 
 
 {>2 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 fortablc lodgings in Montreal. The city pleased 
 me, but Rose did not like it ; yei she contrived 
 to make acquaintances, as she had done in 
 Toronto, and I was surprised one day, on 
 returning home, to see Latondal in our sitting 
 room. 
 
 " How came that man here } " I asked Rose, 
 after he had gone. 
 
 " 1 le walked here," she replied defiantly. 
 
 " Don't trifle with me," I said, sternly. " I 
 will not have any of your devilish tricks." 
 
 " Why, Arthur ! " she said, with an affected 
 laugh, for she saw my temper was ris'ng, 
 *• v/hat has come over you ? Latondal is only 
 A friend ; 1 met him on the street the other day, 
 and asked him to call. It is quite accidental ; 
 he is merely passing through the city." 
 
 I felt that she lied, but said nothing, resolved 
 to watch (juictly. Some instinct warned me 
 there was something wrong. 
 
 I was unsuccessful in finding employment. 
 I searched and advertised day after day, but 
 with no success ; and I began to grow dis- 
 couraged. 
 
 One day I returned home, tired and weary, 
 after a vain search. *' I must be reaping the 
 
fM 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 83 
 
 harvest of my sin," I thought wearily, for I had 
 never felt so sad and downhearted. " Every- 
 thing seems to turn against me ; and even Rose, 
 from whom I expected so much, is careless and 
 indifferent how much I suffer, so long as she 
 does not want for anything." 
 
 Our rooms were deserted when I entered, 
 Rose had evidently gone out in a hurr)-, for things 
 were scattered carelessly around. " Poor girl," 
 I reflected sadly, "she will never be able to 
 live in poverty ; for her sake I must do some- 
 thing. Even now she does not realize how 
 nearly beggared we are." 
 
 My eyes fell on a sheet of paper that lay on 
 the carpet at my feet. I stooped, mechanically, 
 and picked it up, and was surprised to find that 
 it was a letter in my own handwriting. " Where 
 in the world did this come from?" I muttered, 
 beginning to read it ; then, with a start, I 
 crushed it in my rage, for it was the very first 
 letter I had written Rose when I had first parted 
 from her in New York. "She has deceived 
 me," I groaned, for she hul told me that she 
 had never received any . my letters. "How 
 can I ever trust her again ! What was her 
 motive! " I wondered. "Why h id she denied 
 
 ''\>\ 
 
T 
 
 mmm 
 
 84 
 
 HRIC.IITER SPHERES. 
 
 ever having heard from me ? I will find out," 
 I cried excitedly. " I will know her reasons." 
 
 The sight of the letter had recalled to me all 
 my anguish at the time it was written, when I 
 had thought Rose was lost to me forever. I 
 felt now as if I should go mad. The knowledge 
 ofherun worthiness crushed me; and, at the same 
 time, I felt as if I deserved all I was sufiferincr 
 for the way I had treated Maud, who had been 
 worthy of a better fate. The sting of remorse 
 again entered my soul, and I saw my conduct 
 in a new light. 
 
 I think, of all human sentiments remorse is 
 the worst, for it embitters the soul and wrings 
 the mind with anguish. 
 
 *♦ Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart 
 Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime, 
 Can reason down its agonizing throbs ; 
 And, after proper purpose of amendment 
 Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace? 
 Oh, happy, hap]iy, enviable man 1 
 Oh, glorious magnanimity of soul I " * 
 
 Even while these thoughts oppressed me, the 
 door opened and Rose entered. There was a 
 tender light in her liquid eyes, and a happy 
 
 * Burn's Remorse. 
 
BRiail TER sriIERl.S. 
 
 smile just parted the crimson lips. "Can it be 
 possible," I thought, " that underneath this mask 
 of loveliness there exists a heart of deceitful- 
 ness and sin ! " 
 
 "See here," I said sternly, handing her the 
 crushed letter, " this belongs to you : I found 
 it on the floor." 
 
 She took it carelessly, and glanced at the 
 writing; then I saw her color change and the 
 smile die away — but for a moment — then, with 
 an effort, she recovered her self-control. 
 
 " I suppose you have read it," she said 
 defiantly. 
 
 "As I wrote the letter, there was nothing 
 wrong in my reading it. And now perhaps you 
 will explain your motive for deceiving me. 
 Did you not tell mc that you never heard from 
 me after I left New York ? " 
 
 "Would it do an)' good if you heard the 
 truth ? " she saitl, with a sneer. 
 
 "I would hear the truth," 1 answered; "my 
 suspicions are dark enough. Why did you tell 
 me that you believed me false, when all the time 
 you knew differently ? I once believed you 
 above such deceit." 
 
 "And who are you to talk of deceit .^ Did 
 
 ■*■'.■ 
 
 vi 
 
 ^43 
 
^ 
 
 86 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 you not deceive your wife ? and, after robbing 
 her, desert her and leave her broken-hearted ? " 
 she said. 
 
 ** Stop ! " I cried ; ''you are going too far; I 
 almost forget you are a woman, and that I once 
 loved you." 
 
 The misery in my heart must have been 
 reflected in my countenance, for her laughter 
 rippled forth, and I knew it was in mocking 
 derision at my anguish. She came towards 
 me like some beautiful, gliding serpent. 
 
 " Poor fool ! did you think I ever loved you ? " 
 she hissed, — " I, who might have had the 
 United Kingdom at my feet ! Men flattered 
 and worshipped me for my beauty, but there 
 was only one who ever touched my heart, one 
 alone whom I could acknowledge for my 
 master; but he scorned my love — he was too 
 good and noble to love a woman such as I was ; 
 yet I tried hard to win him, and when I saw it 
 was all in vain, I determined to be reven^•ed. 
 It was at this time that you appeared on the 
 scene, and you were useful to me in many ways. 
 Your money helped to bring me the things I 
 loved, but I never intended to marry you ; and 
 when you left New York I thought I had seen 
 
BRhUiTER SI w//:a'/:s. 
 
 ^7 
 
 the last of you. I received your letters, but 
 determined to take no notice k)( them. The 
 man I loved was then in Canada, and I fullowed 
 him here to find I was too late ; death had 
 come before me and claimed him ; lie was 
 beyond my reach — lost to me for ever — and I 
 found that I was alone and friendless in a 
 strange city. I was sick for a while, anil 
 when I recovered I returned to New York. I 
 heard that you were married, and I made u() my 
 mind to see you, for I thought through }'()u I 
 could again obtain some help. The rest you 
 know. 1 lied to you for my own good." 
 
 I raised my head and glared wildly at her. 
 
 " And it was for }'ou I left my home, deserted 
 a loving wife," I said sadly. "Well, I hope j-uu 
 are satisfied with your work ; and if some day 
 you hear of me as committing some dreadful, 
 awful crime, then remember that it \vas you 
 who made me what I am ! " 
 
 She made no reply, but went into the next 
 room ; and I left the house and went out into 
 the evening air, for I felt as if I was going mad. 
 I knew that my sins had been great, but my 
 punishment seemed more than I could bear. 
 
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 88 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 As I tried to still the throbbings of my agitated 
 brain, I wondered if all the world was full of 
 evil, if there were no good people in existence. 
 Suddenly the remembrance of my mother 
 flashed through my whirling brain. She was 
 good ! And then Maud — what a good woman 
 she was ! Yet these two ncre Christians. If 
 there is a God, He must be good ! But how 
 was I to find Him out — that unknown God ? 
 How was I to reach Him ? Where could I find 
 l)roof of His existence ? '• O ye heavens ! can 
 you not speak and tell me if there is a God ? " 
 I silently murmured. "And yonder cloud — if it 
 could but move, would I behold a world of 
 glory behind it? No, it is all a mistake! If 
 there is a God, He is not for me ; it is too late 
 for me to seek Him." 
 
 And then my heart grew bitter against Rose. 
 " But why should I mind her } " I thought. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 89 
 
 " She is not worth my anger." Yet I could not 
 banish the recollections of the old happy days 
 when I thought she loved me, and when I 
 believed her the fairest and purest of earth's 
 creatures. But I was dazzled by the outside 
 surface ; I could not see beneath and read the 
 faults and weakness of the soul. " What have 
 I left to live for 1 " I asked myself in my misery ; 
 " if I were to die to-night there is not one living 
 creature who would care — not one who would 
 drop a silent tear to my memory." 
 
 For an instant I contemplated taking my own 
 life ; and then I banishc^ the idea, as I thought 
 that Rose would not care — perhaps would 
 only laugh at me for my folly ! So I deter- 
 mined to live on, even if it was nothing but 
 misery — there was still a chance for a new life. 
 That night I wrote a long letter to my father, 
 in which I told him all. I did not spare myself 
 in any way : I told him how Rose had led me 
 on, deceiving me from the beginning ; and then 
 I asked him, as a favor, to send me some money, 
 — for I had heard of a business chance, but 
 needed a small capital. I only asked it as a loan, 
 for I was sure of being able to return it, as I 
 intended commencing a new life. 
 
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 90 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 How anxiously I awaited a reply, and how 
 long the days seemed to drag out their length ! 
 I knew that all my future depended on the 
 answer I should receive. I had it addressed to 
 llic post office ; and every day I went there, 
 only to return disappointed. But it came at 
 last, and, as I recognized my father's writing, I 
 could not repress my agitation. " What did it 
 contain?" I wondered, as with trembling fin- 
 gers I tore it open. After briefly glancing at 
 it, I saw that he had simply taken the letter I 
 had sent him and returned it without a word of 
 comment. He seemed determined to icjnore 
 my existence; and, though I made no outward 
 sign, I felt crushed and bewildered with the 
 disappointment I had received, for I felt as if 
 my last hope had vanished — I was indeed friend- 
 less. 
 
 " It is only what I might have expected," I 
 thought, wearily ; " he will never forgive the 
 past. 
 
 I returned homeward sadly, for I felt that I 
 must tell Rose we were ruined ; and yet I 
 shrank from it — for, although she had deceived 
 me and spoiled my life, she was the last creature 
 left for me to cling to. 
 
r;'; i I 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 9' 
 
 I well knew what a scene there would be 
 when she heard the truth. Our rooms had a 
 lonely, deserted look when I entered, and, al- 
 though the April sun beamed l)rightly in, I 
 shivered with the cold ; a nameless dread had 
 taken possession of me, and I could not shake 
 it off. I looked around for Rose : she was not 
 in, but I found a note, in her writing, on the 
 table. I opened it, with wildly-beating heart, 
 and read the following : — 
 
 *' Dear Arthur, 
 
 " I think, after what passed the other evening, we 
 are better apart. 1 fly with one who loves me better 
 than you ever did, and with whom I hope to be hap- 
 py. Do not try to follow me ; it would be useless ; 
 and I hope you will learn to forget your lost 
 
 Rose,' 
 
 
 And that was all — not a word of regret for 
 the misery she had caused me ; not a word of 
 sorrow for the life she had spoiled ! I looked 
 sadly through the deserted rooms, and found 
 that she had taken everything of the least pos- 
 sible value with her — selfish to the last. '* Is it 
 not a just retribution t " I asked myself For 
 her sake I had sacrificed all that would have 
 made life dear to me — my home, my wife, and 
 my father's respect ; and now, in the hour of 
 
 
I jji ■ mnv.fwm 
 
 i M 
 
 92 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 my greatest need, she had left me, penniless, 
 friendless, and alone. 
 
 A sudden longing for vengeance took posses- 
 sion of me. I crushed her letter under my feet, 
 and cursed her aloud in the bitterness of my 
 rage* I well knew that it was with Latondal 
 she had flown. " I will find them both, and 
 kill them," I muttered through my set teeth ; 
 and I left the house determined to hunt them 
 down. 
 
 A shower of rain had fallen and passed away, 
 and the sun again shone out brilliantly, causing 
 the raindrops on the branches of the trees to 
 sparkle like countless diamonds. The streets 
 were thronged with gaily-dressed people, and I 
 vaguely wondered if anyone else was as misera- 
 ble as I was. My first intention was to inquire 
 at the railway station, to see if I could find 
 trace of anyone answering to the description of 
 those I sought. I hurried along westward on 
 St. James street, and at one of the crossings I 
 had to pause, for quite a crowd had gathered 
 around a break-down — of an express or some- 
 thing — right in the middle of the road. Suddenly 
 
 there was a shout from the crowd, and, tiirninsr 
 round, I perceived a startled horse advancino- 
 
 i ( 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 93 
 
 m-\ 
 
 Tit a great rate, dragging a shattered dog-cart 
 after him, in which a lady was seated holding 
 on like grim death. In an instant I compre- 
 hended her danger, for the frightened animal 
 would inevitably come into collision with the 
 broken-down express that lay in his road. As 
 it dashed onward I sprang forward and stood in 
 its path ; and, as soon as it came near enough, 
 I made a spring and grasped the bridle. 
 
 There was a sudden, swerving motion, and the 
 shouts of the by-standers sounded dimly in my 
 ears ; there was a heavy thud, as I was thrown 
 violently to the earth, where for a moment I 
 faintly struggled with a sensation of weakness, 
 and then all became a blank. 
 
 O blessed unconsciousness, that saved me from 
 an awful crime and from a murderer's fate ! for 
 my brain, that had been working with thoughts 
 of hatred and vengeance, was now still and 
 senseless, and I knew nothing of what followed. 
 I had a dreamy sensation of being lifted, and 
 for a long time afterwards I seemed to lie en- 
 shrouded in a gloomy darkness. Then I fancied 
 myself in a blaze of glaring light, from which I 
 vainly tried to hide ; and then, with a struggle, 
 I opened my aching eyelids, to find that it was 
 the mid-day sun shining full upon me. 
 
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 N 
 
 
 04 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 " Where am I ? *' was my first thought, as I 
 tried to collect my scattered senses. I gazed 
 around me in bewilderment, for every thing was 
 strange to me, I was lying on a soft, white bed 
 in the centre of a large, rose-tinted room. Bright 
 flowers were prettily arranged on a table beside 
 my bed, and through the half-opened window 
 came the soft, gentle spring wind, laden with the 
 balmy perfume from the freshly-budding trees. 
 I tried to rise, but fell back helpless. There 
 was a slight noise, and I saw the door open and 
 a lady enter. She was a stranger to me, yet 
 something about her attracted my attention. 
 She was not beautiful, but there was a look of 
 nobleness about her — an expression of holiness 
 and purity that told of a lofty soul. Her eyes 
 were of a soft, dark grey, and filled with a 
 gentle, tender light as they rested on me. 
 
 ** Who are you ? " I asked, in a weak voice, 
 " and how came I here ? " 
 
 " Hush ! " she said softly, and her voice 
 sounded like music in my ears, " you have been 
 very ill, and you must not talk now — you are 
 too weak." She gently raised my head and 
 pressed to my parched lips some cooling draught, 
 which I eagerly drank and then sank back 
 exhausted. 
 
 1 
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 . 
 
 .'i''^ 
 

 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 95 
 
 f f'i i j 
 
 This feeling of weakness was new to mc, and 
 it seemed strange that I, who had been so strong, 
 was now as weak and helpless as an infant. A 
 drowsiness came over me which I could not 
 resist, and I fell into a refreshing slumber that 
 lasted until night. 
 
 When I awoke, my brain was much clearer, 
 and I looked around for the lady who had so 
 greatly attracted me in the morning. She 
 was not in the room ; there was only an old 
 gentleman — a venerable looking man — who was 
 quietly reading by the aid of a subdued light. 
 On perceiving that I was awake, he arose and 
 came towards me. 
 
 *' I am glad to see you better," he said heartily. 
 *' I have to thank you for saving my daughter's 
 life. But for you she might now be lying cold 
 in death, and I have much to thank you for." 
 
 As he spoke it all came back to me — the 
 scene where I had tried to stop the infuriated 
 animal. How vividly I remembered that I was 
 in search of vengeance ! and I could not repress 
 a groan as I thought of it. 
 
 " How long have I been here } " I asked, 
 faintly. 
 
 '• Over two weeks," he replied ; "you received 
 
 
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 96 
 
 nRICIlTER SPHERES. 
 
 a severe wound in the head, which caused a 
 slight attack of brain fever." 
 
 " Rose is undoubtedly beyond my reach by 
 this time," I thought, with a sigh. And then 
 I wondered about the noble face I had seen in 
 the morning. Was it real ? or was it only some 
 vision of my fever-distorted brain } 
 
 " I will leave you now," the old gentleman 
 said, " but I will send Alice to you ; she has 
 been your devoted nurse all through." 
 
 " Who can Alice be .-* " I wondered, as he left 
 me. I was not long left in doubt. She soon 
 entered — a gentle, graceful figure, in her soft, 
 grey dress — and I recognized the face that I 
 had been thinking about, and wondered what 
 it was about her that attracted me. Afterwards 
 I knew that it was the very purity and loftiness 
 of her soul that acted like a magnet on my 
 guilty nature. 
 
 * You have been very kind," I said softly, as 
 she came towards me, " to one who was a stran- 
 ger to you." 
 
 *' * I was a stranger, and you took me in,' " she 
 quoted, sitting down beside me, "and have I 
 nothing to thank you for ? How can I look 
 upon you as a stranger, when you saved me 
 
 
liklGIITER SPHERES. 
 
 97 
 
 from a serious accident, and risked your own life 
 in the act ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " I said, " then you were the lady who 
 was seated in the dog-cart." 
 
 " Yes," she said with a shudder. " It was an 
 awful time, and when I saw you go down under 
 the horse's feet I was sure you were killed. As 
 soon as you fell, several others came to my 
 assistanee. I had you brought here in a cab, 
 and have tried in vain to find out your friends." 
 
 " I have no friends," I said sadly. " I am alone 
 in the world." 
 
 " Poor man ! " she said gently, " but now you 
 will not say that ; you must look upon my father 
 and myself as friends." 
 
 I took her outstretched hand and grasped it 
 warmly, for something in her manner inspired 
 my confidence. 
 
 " If you will take me into your friendship, I 
 shall be so glad," I murmured ; " and some da\', 
 if you will kindly listen, I will tell you thestor\' 
 of my life, and how it is that I am friendless." 
 
 " I would like it," she said, softly. " I too 
 have had my trials : death has taken many 
 loved ones from me ; yet I look forward to the 
 
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 liRIGIlTER SPIIERIwS, 
 
 time when wc shall be united, where there is no 
 more sorrow — no more death." 
 
 I could not help smiling at the blindness of 
 her faith. 
 
 " Do you believe in another life ? " I asked. 
 " Do you really believe there is a God ? " 
 
 She regarded me for an instant in silent 
 amazement. 
 
 " Don't talk like that," she said, with a 
 shudder. " You cannot be in earnest — of 
 course I believe in a God, and in a future life 
 also ; if I did not, I believe I should go mad." 
 
 " And yet," I said with a sigh, " I cannot 
 believe it. I have tried and found nc founda- 
 tion for it — no proof." 
 
 " It is too bad," she said, with a sigh ; " you 
 have missed a great joy and comfort in your 
 life. But God does all for the best ; I think you 
 were sent here for a purpose." 
 
 I thought, sadly, of my past life — so full of 
 sin — and was silent. 
 
 " We will speak of this some other time," she 
 said ; " you are tired now, and I will leave you " 
 — and, with a smile, she left me. 
 
 But I was now comforted and cheered, for I 
 felt that I was no longer friendless and alone ; 
 
BRIGHTER SPUE RES, 
 
 99 
 
 and there were still prospects of a new life. The 
 old thoughts of hatred and revenge had van- 
 ished. I did not dare to think of Rose, but 
 longed to be something better, nobler, than I 
 had been. I wanted to be worthy of the trust 
 of my new friends. 
 
 Is it ever reached — this striving for perfec- 
 tion ? Not on earth ; only when the cold mists 
 have vanished, and the shadow of death has 
 passed, then is that perfect, glorious peace 
 reached ! ! 
 
 I fell asleep — a sweet, dreamless sleep that 
 lasted till day-break. I soon began tc recover 
 my strencftb In the pure atmosphere aro>md 
 me T saw how I had wasted m.y life, and I 
 found all the old temptations powerless. 
 
 W 
 
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 100 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 :jT'« 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MY NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 At the time of which I write there lived in the 
 City of Montreal a man named Dalton, a man 
 remarkable for his Christian charity, and of the 
 highest mental culture. He was a widower, 
 with an only child, Alice, the young lady I had 
 rescued. Words of mine are inadequate to 
 describe the goodness and pureness of her life. 
 She possessed a character of the noblest, loftiest 
 type, and I looked on in silent wonder at the life 
 she was leading — so full of thought for those 
 around her, so utterly forgetful of self: no 
 stricken heart but felt the cheering comfort of her 
 presence ; no dying sufferer but felt the hopeful- 
 ness of her prayers. It was a life of self-sacrifice 
 and usefulness, — a life wherein she followed in 
 the footsteps of the Master she professed. I see 
 her now, as I saw her then, a pure and gentle 
 spirit ministering words of hope to some despair- 
 ing sinner, or soothing the anguish of some dis- 
 
 I 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERED. 
 
 to I 
 
 tracted brain ; and again, leading some wander- 
 ing sheep back into the Shepherd's fold. 
 
 Such were the people who taught me the 
 meaning of friendship, and proffered me the 
 hospitahty of their home — me, the outcast and 
 the sinner ; and, day by day, their kindness to 
 me was unlimited. 
 
 As soon as I grew a little stronger, Mr. 
 Dalton promised me employment in his office, 
 and I was determined he should find me straight- 
 forward and honest. 
 
 T now spent most of my time reclining on a 
 sofa in the sitting-room. My chief delight was 
 when Alice would come to me, ever cheering 
 me with the brightness of her presence. One 
 day she entered a little sadly, for she had just 
 left a death-bed scene in the neighborhood, and 
 the imprint of it seemed still upon her. 
 
 " You are wearing yourself out," I said to 
 her ; " you look quite pale and tired." 
 
 "I am a little tired," she said, wearily; "I 
 hate to witness suffering. I have just seen a 
 mother dying, surrounded by her weeping, help- 
 less children ; and I have been wondering why 
 it is that God sometimes takes away those 
 who are wanted on earth, while those who are 
 despairing, and oft-times praying to die, live on." 
 
 ' ( : »j 
 
102 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 %i\f\ 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " that is one proof that there 
 is no God : the world is so full of suffering and 
 sorrow. If there was a God, He would not be 
 so cruel. I am only human, yet I could not 
 listen unmoved to all the despairing cries of the 
 human race." 
 
 " Hush ! " she cried, shrinking from me, " do 
 not try to instil your miserable doubts into my 
 soul. There is a God ; I know it, feel it, and 
 will yet prove it." 
 
 " If I could ever learn to believe in Him, it 
 would be from you," I answered ; " all you 
 could ever teach would be good ; still my doubt- 
 ing heart cries out for proof. How is it that you 
 trust so blindly ? What proof have you, for 
 instance, that there is another life beyond this ? " 
 
 " An instinct," she replied. " If I had no 
 Bible, there is a something within me which I 
 feel can never die. Even the poor Indian, in 
 his savage, untaught ignorance, feels this 
 instinct when he speaks of his happy hunting- 
 grounds. How could I bear to think of the 
 future, so ageless, endless, and of the millions 
 of souls that have lived and passed away, if I 
 thought there was no Supreme Being who 
 governed all ! " 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 lo. 
 
 "But," I persisted, "even if your Bible be 
 true, it proclaims Him to be an unjust God. 
 You believe Him omniscient : if so. He knows 
 the sins and crimes a man is to commit when 
 he is born ; yet for those very sins that man is 
 condemned to eternal punishment. Think of the 
 countless thousands of people living in poverty 
 and vice, miserable in life, yet dreading death, — 
 for they are taught to believe that nothing but 
 doom awaits them." 
 
 " You are wrong," she said quietly ; " the 
 same Bible that speaks of eternal punishment 
 also speaks of forgiveness ; man is sinful and 
 always will be so, and * the wages of sin is 
 death ' ; yet, through the merits of Christ, all 
 can be pardoned." 
 
 " That is another mistake," I interrupted ; 
 " there never existed such a Man ; He is an 
 impossible character." 
 
 "You are talking of something you don't 
 understand," she replied to me : " He is the most 
 perfect and purest of characters — perfect God 
 and perfect man — and the day will come when 
 you will acknowledge Him." 
 
 " You are so good," I murmured ; " I wonder 
 that you don't despise my ignorant sneers." 
 
 
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 ; ■ r^-lr '•■ 
 
 ^'iHP- 
 
 104 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 $M^. 
 
 i, : t 
 
 "I am not good," she said ; "I may have 
 been born with fewer wicked passions than 
 you. If there is no temptation to struggle 
 against, it is easy to be good ; but he who 
 conquers sin and daily struggles with the 
 promptings of evil, and commands a victory 
 over self — he is worthy of being called good." 
 
 I made no reply. Her words struck me for- 
 cibly. I felt as if she wished me to struggle 
 with my doubts of Christianity. Yet I knew how 
 useless it would be ; nothing seemed to con- 
 vince me. I would have given much to be able to 
 say to her, " Thy God shall be my God, and I 
 will serve Him j" but I could not do this — not 
 unless I deceived her, and I was man enough 
 to shrink from that. 
 
 Every day after this we spent a short time 
 together, talking over religion and Christianity. 
 I was very obstinate, but she had great patience, 
 and gradually led my darkened mind into the 
 truth, sometimes taking lessons from nature, 
 sometimes from her Bible, which was an insepar- 
 able companion. 
 
 One fine, peaceful Sunday, Mr. Dalton ])ro- 
 poscd that we should ascend the mountain and 
 view the city from its summit. To this I ca^er- 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 105 
 
 \y assented ; and together we drove up, and 
 alighted when we reached the top. Alice and 
 I sauntered off to find a favorable point of 
 view, leaving Mr. Dalton conversing with a 
 friend he had met. 
 
 "See!" Alice exclaimed, "behold the scene 
 before you, and tell me how you can say there 
 is no God ! How can you account for this 
 creation — the exquisite coloring of the land- 
 scape and the abundance of life around us ? " 
 
 It was indeed a scene worthy of admiration. 
 Below us lay the city, calm and quiet in the 
 evening mists ; and onward the waters of the 
 St. Lawrence flowed, numerous islands resting 
 peacefully on its bosom ; while on the other 
 side spread the blue outline of mountains. 
 
 " Is there nothing in this," my companion 
 asked, " that appeals to your soul .? Is there no 
 inspiration in the lovely landscape ) nothing 
 in the soft sighing of the summer wind that 
 creates in your soul a longing for a nobler life } 
 To me it is the surest proof of God's existence. 
 I see His handiwork all around me in the varied 
 year, v/hether in the soft splendor of summer, 
 or the hoary majesty of winter ; and if He has 
 made this passing world so fair, how much 
 
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 lo6 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 better must that home be that He has in store 
 for us ? " 
 
 "I wish I had your faith," I answered; "how 
 bHndly you trust !" 
 
 " No, not blindly," she replied ; " I trust be- 
 cause I believe, I do not understand how 
 anyone can be so doubting ; even the very 
 birds seem to be singing the praises of God, 
 and my heart goes out in silent admiration — 
 first to nature, then on to nature's God." 
 
 "If there is a God, why is there so much 
 misery in the world ? " I asked ; " why is H e 
 cruel?" 
 
 " You are mistaken," she answered ; " we 
 must not question His divine will ; whatever lie 
 does is for the best ; * whom He loveth Me 
 chasteneth.' " 
 
 ** And do you believe," I asked, incredulously, 
 " that man, after suffering misery in this world, 
 is to be eternally punished in another life ? 
 Take myself, for instance — do you think I 
 merit eternal punishment for those doubts that 
 I cannot help ? " 
 
 " No," she answered ; " for I believe they 
 will all pass away, and you will regret them. 
 You have told me that you were brought up 
 
 \ 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 107 
 
 away from home — among unbelievers — and 
 without any loving voice to teach you right from 
 wrong. I think that you are not responsible 
 for being so doubting. I wish you would 
 study the life of Christ ; it would help you to 
 understand what now seems so dark." 
 
 '• No," I said, " if anything ever convinces me, 
 it will be your teachings. I have read the life of 
 Christ, and it made no impression on me; I 
 looked upon it as fiction — the offspring of 
 imagination." 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, softly, and a holy light 
 seemed to illuminate her countenance, ** I love 
 to picture Him in His earthly life, partaking of 
 our human nature, yet God, suffering the sneers 
 of man. Again, I see Him treading the plains of 
 Galilee — a man of many sorrows ; yet, although 
 rejected by man, the world around Him knew 
 He was no impostor. At His word the tempests 
 hushed their angry tumult, and the wild waves 
 ceased their surging when He murmured, ' Peace, 
 be still.'" 
 
 I made no answer. 
 
 " And," she continued, "you say that His life is 
 the result of imagination ; but no man living at 
 that period could have imagined such a pure 
 
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 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 and holy character. His very doctrines pro- 
 claimed Him God. The prophets of old fell 
 from grace, but in Him there was found no sin." 
 
 Mr. Dalton here joined us, and we /etraced 
 our steps, for night was already casting her 
 mantle of darkness over all the landscape. 
 
 I was silent during our homeward drive ; some- 
 thing within me seemed too deep for utterance. 
 I retired early to my own room. Alice had gone 
 to church. 
 
 " What has come over me .'* " I asked myself 
 in the solitude of my room, as I stood at the 
 open window gazing into the darkness. Once 
 I would have laughed at the notion of being a 
 Christian ; now all is different. " If there is a 
 God, why have I not known Him ? " I thought, 
 sadly, " why has He forgotten me.? and if there 
 is another life, how can I enter it } How can 
 my guilty soul float out alone into the ageless, 
 endless eternity "i " It was all too much for me ; 
 I could not grasp the truth ; I could not yet 
 believe. 
 
 Like a flash, the image of a pure face rose 
 before me — a face illumined with a heavenlv 
 light, the soft, grey eyes shining with unspoken 
 thoughts that indicated a lofty soul. I started 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 109- 
 
 m^ 
 
 as the truth came suddenly upon me. I loved 
 her! Yes, strive as I would, I could not hide 
 the truth ; I, the outcast, the guilty, sin-stained 
 wretch, dared to love her, who was as far above 
 me as light above the darkness. It was no pass- 
 ing fancy, no fragile love to be easily cast aside. 
 I loved her with all the strength of my man- 
 hood, with a love that could never die. And 
 oh ! the misery of the thought : I was not free 
 to love ; Rose was, no doubt, still living, and she 
 was still my wife. I think if it had been in the 
 old days, and any other woman but Alice, I 
 would have wooed and won her, and said 
 nothing of Rose. Now all was changed ; the 
 very purity of her nature protected her. " I 
 might as well try to grasp yonder star in the 
 heavens," I thought, " she would despise me, if she 
 knew I had dared to love her. But no, she would 
 only pity me, perhaps even pray for me." It was 
 the bitterest hour of my life. I cursed the fate 
 that brought me no joy, no peace in life. And 
 then softer thoughts came to me. I knelt down, 
 alone in my misery, at the open window, and 
 pillowed my aching head. " O God ! " I cried^ 
 " if you exist, why have you deserted me } why 
 IS my life so full of anguish ? why have yoa 
 
 
 
m 
 
 IJ' , „v 
 
 ^''»i 
 
 no 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 implanted this love within me, when it can only 
 result in misery ? " 
 
 All through the long, still hours of the night, 
 I remained there, struggling with my anguish, 
 fighting the hardest of all battles — a war with 
 myself. In that struggle all the evil within me 
 seemed to die. I felt as if my love had created 
 within me a purer, better spirit ; and that hence- 
 forth I would live to be worthy of it. 
 
 O Thou great God, who dost behold all the 
 heartfelt yearning of an anguished soul, I think 
 in that hour Thou didst pity me ; I think some 
 spirit of mercy, direct from Thee, whispered to 
 my wounded heart sweet words of hope ! 
 
 And as the morning dawned the good within 
 me conquered. I would go away, far from this 
 peaceful spot where I had been so happy. I 
 knew it would be useless to live in her presence 
 and try to hide my love ; so it was best that I 
 should go; and she should never know how 
 dearly I had loved her, for the knowledge would 
 but cause her pain. I knew my life would be 
 dreary without her. I should be sure to relapse 
 into the old, guilty life. But no, the very 
 memory of her would be enough to restrain me. 
 She would be my guiding star; and for her 
 sake I would lead the life she had taught me. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BLIGHTED HOPES. 
 
 I HID my secret well, but it was weary work. 
 I was loth to leave yet the scene when; I had 
 been so happy, and I lingered on through the 
 summer months until the autumn leaves were 
 falling. 
 
 One evening I had just returned home from 
 work, for I was now employed by Mr. Dalton. 
 I was silently thinking over the future, as I 
 knew that this life could not go on much longer. 
 I carelessly picked up an old newspaper from 
 the table, and was startled to see my own 
 initials heading a '' personal " paragraph, which 
 read as follows : 
 
 • " Arthur R. — Forgive the past. I am alone and 
 dying at the old place. — Rose." 
 
 I felt the blood receding from my face, and a 
 cold, death-like feeling swept over me. I looked 
 at the date of the paper; it was a week old. 
 What was I to do > At first I thought that I 
 

 112 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 would tell Alice all, and ask her advice. Then 
 I shrank from it, for I thought she would per- 
 haps regard me with horror when she came to 
 hear the recital of my life; she was so pure 
 and good, she would not understand how I 
 had listened to the voice of evil. I was 
 tempted to take no notice of the " personal " ; but 
 just then Alice happened to enter the room. 
 She looked so fair, so saintly, that at sight of 
 her my better nature prevailed. 
 
 "Tell me," I said, turning to her, "if a man 
 is deeply wronged, is he not justified in hating 
 the one who has spoiled his life ? Would you, 
 if any one injured you beyond repair — would 
 you forgive him ? " 
 
 " I think so," she said softly, a look of sur- 
 prise dawning in her grey eyes as she saw my 
 emotion. "Take Christ for your example al- 
 ways ; see the sublime purity of His life : He 
 forgave those who wronged Him ; and how can 
 any one hate a soul that He loves ! You 
 know," she added, " that * to err is human, to 
 
 » i> 
 
 forgive is divine 
 
 Her sweet words decided me, and I deter- 
 mined to see Rose and forgive the past — for- 
 give, though in the end it would surely cause 
 me pain. 
 
BRIGHTER SPirEKES. 
 
 II 
 
 It was Rose who had inserted the paragraph, 
 of that I had no doubt ; but I did not believe 
 she was dying — that was only a trick of hers to 
 entrap me. She was probably deserted by the 
 partner of her flight, and sought to try and 
 obtain aid from me. By " the old place " I 
 surmised that she meant our former lodgings ; 
 and there I went without any delay. The 
 landlady, a sprightly little /"renchwoman, 
 received me with an agitated manner. " You 
 are too late, sir," she said, as I entered. 
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked; "is Mrs. 
 Rogers not here } " 
 
 "She was here," the woman answered; "she 
 came to me about three weeks ago. She was 
 very sick and I * done ' my best for her, but all 
 in vain. She seemed repentant, and tried hard 
 to find you." 
 
 " Do you know where she is now .'* " I inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " She left here in a dying state," the woman 
 
 replied, " saying that she was going to sonic 
 
 friends in Boston ; and last week I received a 
 
 letter stating that she was dying, and that is all 
 
 I can tell you ; she is probably dead by this 
 
 time." 
 
 8 
 
 *■{ 
 
 'f 
 
I f1f?7^ 
 
 VPPIHHMilPPmMI 
 
 
 114 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 i 
 
 I asked for the letter, and she gave it to me. 
 I lost no time, but went home and wrote to the 
 address stated, for I was determined to know 
 the truth. I wanted to hear whether I was 
 free, or still bound to one I now considered 
 unworthy of any man's regard. I wondered 
 how [ had ever been so foolish as to imagine I 
 loved her. It was only an infatuation, a pass- 
 ing love, that I now regarded as a dream. 
 
 An answer came quickly to my letter, which 
 put an end to my suspense. The writer was a 
 stranger to me, and briefly informed me that 
 my wife was dead. It never occurred to me to 
 doubt the truth of this statement. I was only 
 startled, for I had never thought of her dying, 
 she had always been so full of life and seldom 
 sick ; and I could hardly realize that she, for 
 whose smiles men had fought, and whose beauty 
 women had envied, was dead. It is ever thus : 
 the young and beautiful pass away, even as the 
 old and feeble. It was strange to think of her 
 as dead, her rich' glowing beauty faded into 
 nothing. Yet, mingled with the thoughts of 
 her, came a sweet thrill to my heart, as I 
 suddenly remembered that there was now no 
 living barrier existing between Alice and me. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 «i5 
 
 But could she, one of the purest and noblest of 
 women, link her fate with mine — :he guilty 
 sinner ? 
 
 I resolved to test her feelings towards me. 
 She had ever been kind, patient and gentle with 
 me ; her sweet, innocent nature never suspected 
 the deep love I entertained for her. 
 
 One evening, I strayed out into the autumn 
 air. A slight wind was stirring among the 
 vari-colored leaves of the trees, and many of 
 them fluttered to the [ground at my feet. I 
 went into the faded garden, where the fitful 
 moonlight was casting ghostly shadows. Here 
 I resolved to await the coming of Alice. She 
 had gone on some visit of charity, but I knew 
 slic would soon return. In this I was right ; I 
 soon beheld her coming towards me, and I 
 stepped forward to meet her. She gave a start 
 of surprise on seeing me. 
 
 " You ! " she said, with the tender smile I knew 
 so well. 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " I have been waiting for 
 you ; I have something to tell you." 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. 
 
 " Do you remember," I asked, " my once tell- 
 ing you that I would one day relate to you the 
 story of my life ? Will you listen to it now } " 
 
 fflj 
 
 H\ 
 
 \\' 
 
 w 
 
1 li" 
 
 ! f 
 
 f rrj: 
 
 aPR^Hn^viva 
 
 11 ! I 
 
 ii6 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 She nodded her head in silent assent, and I 
 began and told her all my past life, with its 
 weakness and sin, the same as I have already- 
 described to the reader. I omitted nothing- 
 save the date of Rose's death ; I merely told 
 her that I had proof of that fact. 
 
 I half expected Alice to shrink from me during 
 the recital of my crimes, but she never changed 
 the sweet expression of her countenance. 
 
 " Now," I exclaimed, when I had finished, 
 " you know what a sinner I have been ; despise 
 me if you will, but remember that I knew no 
 other life. I had no one to teach me of that 
 life the Christian leads. Will you be my judge^ 
 and tell me if I am beyond redemption .'* " 
 
 ** Who am I } " she said, *' that I should judge 
 you } How could I know the conflictings of 
 your soul — that soul so wondrous, created 
 after God's image. Who but He shall dare to 
 judge it.?" 
 
 " But," I cried, " will you not speak some 
 word of comfort to me .? You always help me 
 so much ; you have already persuaded me that 
 there is a God. I now believe in a Supreme 
 Being who governs the Universe, but further 
 than that I cannot believe." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 117 
 
 " It will all come in God's own time," she 
 answered. " He will one day banish all the 
 doubts, and lead you safely into His eternal 
 home." 
 
 " Ah," I said, in a despondent tone, " my 
 faith is so weak ; it is only you who can help 
 me. I love you — fondly, devotedly love you ! 
 But why do you shrink from me } Arc you angry 
 because of this love which I cannot control } 
 How could I help it } How could I live in the 
 sunshine of your presence, and behold the noble 
 self-sacrifice of your life, and not love you } Am 
 I so despicable, so hateful in your sight, that 
 you shrink from me in horror } " 
 
 " No," she replied, with a troubled look, " it is 
 not that ; but I have never thought of such a 
 thing. I have planned out for myself a life so 
 different, a life spent in the Master's cause, which 
 I would live alone, caring for His wandering 
 sheep, feeding His hungry lambs." 
 
 *' Why alone .'* " I pleaded ; " with you to help 
 me, I could embrace your doctrines and accept 
 your faith. We would work together, you and 
 I, and we should be so happy ; but," I added, 
 sadly, " you do not think me worthy of your 
 trust." 
 

 immfmmmmm 
 
 Il8 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 ^ 
 
 " You do not understand," she said, in a low 
 tone : " I do not think you so bad ; indeed, I 
 have watched well, and I believe that you 
 possess many noble qualities that only await 
 development." 
 
 " Then," I cried in a voice of entreaty, " help 
 me to attain a better life. You alone can save 
 me. If you will not marry me, if you send me 
 from you, I am lost." 
 
 She made no sign, but I saw that she shivered 
 slightly, and she turned so that I could not see 
 her face. 
 
 ** Very well," I said, sadly. " I see that I am 
 abhorrent to you. I will not trouble you again. 
 I will go from you now, back to the old life, so 
 full of sin and misery ; and some day when you 
 stand face to face with that God you profess to 
 love, how then will you be able to answer for 
 the soul you might have saved ? " 
 
 I turned as if to leave her, but she grasped 
 my arm ; " Stay," she gasped ; " for the present 
 you have won ; I stand amidst conflicting duty, 
 — my own plans on one side, you on the other. 
 I cannot bear to picture you back in the old 
 life, lonely and cheerless. Ho who implanted 
 that love within you, must have done so with a 
 
 
 \l 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 119 
 
 
 purpose, and I bow in deep submission to His 
 will." 
 
 " My darling ! " I cried in rapture ; " you have 
 made me so happy. You shall never repent 
 those blessed words. You have given me some- 
 thing to live for; life seems no longer empty 
 and cheerless." 
 
 " But you must not be too sanguine," she 
 interrupted. " I cannot marry you while you 
 are an unbeliever ; no happiness would result 
 from it. When you become an honest Christian, 
 then you can speak to me of marriage." 
 
 " Is not that hope sufficient to sustain mc } " 
 I replied. '* I will work so hard to be worthy 
 of your trust. I will find no labor too difficult, 
 no task too arduous, if in the end I can but win 
 your love." 
 
 "I feel as if it will turn out all right," she 
 replied. " I think that He who imposed this 
 duty on me will bless it with success ; and we 
 can safely leave the future in His hands." 
 
 The hour was getting late and we went into 
 the house. The days that followed were happy 
 ones for me — the happiest I was ever to know 
 on earth. There seemed no cloud to darken the 
 brightness of the future. I studied hard to 
 
 
 ^:i 
 
 M> 
 
 
 J. -4^ 
 
120 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 overcome my doubts about Christianity. Alice 
 read much to me on the subject, and I had 
 gradually come to believe in a God, though I 
 could not yet believe in an eternal life. Some- 
 times in the solitude of the night I would argue 
 the matter out with myself. " Was it possible," 
 1 asked myself, "that there 'vere separate states 
 of existence beyond the grave — one for the 
 good, and one for the bad } If so, there would 
 be only misery in such an existence. People 
 separated from those they loved on earth^ — how 
 could they be happy, knowing that their loved 
 ones suffered ? " If it was true, Alice would 
 surely be among the good, and I cast among the 
 worthless. "Was there any truth in it .^ " I 
 wondered. " Was it possible that when I should 
 resign this earthly body I should still exist, 
 a conscious being, capable of enduring pain or 
 experiencing joy } No, it could not be ! " I 
 believed that when a man died he became 
 nothing — mingled with the dust. 
 
 Alice talked much to me about this doubt. 
 ** Why can you not believe } " she would say, 
 sadly. " Surely, He who made us did not do 
 so for this passing world. Of what use would it 
 be to create souls if they were all to perish and 
 become nothing! " 
 
 J 1. 1 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 Z8I 
 
 Poor girl, it pained her to see me so doubt- 
 ing; yet I could not help it. She now asked 
 me frequently to accompany her to church ; but, 
 although I went, I did not seem convinced. I 
 used to like much better to go with her on some 
 mission of charity, which I invariably did, and 
 in this way saw the different phases of life, 
 
 I began to hope that I was gaining favor in 
 the eyes of Alice. I beHeved that she was not 
 quite indifferent to me, and a sweet hope thrilled 
 me as I thought perhaps I was gaining her love. 
 
 All this time I did not hear anything more 
 of Rose's death. I had written twice, but 
 received no answer. This I thought strange, 
 and determined to go to the address stated in 
 the letter I had received, and obtain particulars 
 for myself. The winter had now set in, and 
 Alice kept me very busy helping her to look 
 after the poor. 
 
 One evening we had just returned from a 
 long tramp through ice and snow, and were 
 enjoying the genial glow of the bright fire. 
 
 " I feel unusually joyful to-night," Alice said 
 to me in an undertone. " Let us have some 
 music." 
 
 "Yes," I eagerly assented; "do sing some 
 
^1 ' 
 
 I I 
 
 138 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 of your sacred songs ; they may awaken some 
 responsive chord within my heart." 
 
 She selected " Rock of Ages," and seemed to 
 pour out her trusting faith in the sweet words. 
 I stood silent beside her: but when she came 
 to the last verse, I could not help joining in the 
 refrain, " Rock of Ages, cleft forme, let me hide 
 myself in thee." 
 
 Before the last words died away, I heard the 
 door open and some one enter, but did not 
 turn round, thinking it was Mr. Dalton. Alice 
 was the first to logk to see who it was, and then 
 I saw her rise with a surprised look. " What is 
 it ? " I heard her say : " did you wish to see 
 me ? " 
 
 Then I looked ; and as I did so, I could feel all 
 the joy within me die. It seemed to me as if 
 everything around me was fading from my sight. 
 A female figure stood just inside the door, with 
 a mocking smile on her lips — a smile that sent an 
 icy chill to my heart, for I knew it so well. I 
 recognized her in spite of the ravages of illness, 
 and the changes dissipation had made in her 
 once beautiful countenance, I knew her in 
 spite of the dishevelled hair, the worn-out 
 garments. It was Rose, alive and standing in 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 133 
 
 the flesh before me, ready to dash the cup of 
 happiness from me. 
 
 " What do you want, my good woman ? " 
 Alice asked again. 
 
 " What do I want ? " Rose repeated. " Ask 
 him ! " she added, pointing to me. " Ask my 
 husband ! " She seated herself in the nearest 
 chair and gazed defiantly at me, while Alice, 
 grown strangely white, looked from one to the 
 other of us. 
 
 " Leave us," I said to her, hoarsely. " Leave 
 me to deal with that woman ; this is no scene 
 for you." 
 
 " Yes, it is," she returned, quietly. " I think 
 I understand it all; and I had better stay. 
 Besides, this poor woman may need my assist- 
 tance ; she looks quite faint. If you go down- 
 stairs you will find some wine in the dining- 
 room ; please bring some up ; it will revive her." 
 
 Dear, gentle soul ! she only saw a creature in 
 distress, no matter how great her sin, how deep 
 her crimes. Rose, with her pale, emaciated 
 features, was still a fellow-creature who needed 
 help. 
 
 I rose to comply with Alice's request. She 
 had seen that I was in no mood to be trusted 
 
 n 
 
 A 
 
124 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 alone with the woman who had so cruelly 
 wronged me, and thought by sending me from the 
 room my anger would have time to cool. I let 
 my eyes rest upon her for an instant, and I per- 
 ceived, with a thrill of anguish, that she suffered ; 
 h^^r clear eyes had in them a wounded look, 
 that told of a sensitive soul apprehensive of 
 suffering. Yet even as she met my gaze, she 
 tried to smile bravely, as if bidding me be of 
 good cheer. I knew that she suffered because I 
 did, and the very thought of it was anguish to 
 me. It was not of herself she was thinking, but 
 of me. It crushed me to think that I, who fain 
 would have crowned her life with every blessing, 
 was the first to cause her sorrow. 
 
 Oh my darling ! how trifling it all seems now, 
 as viewed from the height of our superior 
 wisdom ! When we look back upon those earthly 
 scenes so fraught with anguish, how little do 
 they appear! and how we wonder they ever 
 pained us ! — of the earth, earthly and swiftly 
 passing away. O ye people, who are in grief, 
 in sorrow or misery, why do ye lament and 
 mourn your fate ? Know ye not that a change 
 soon comes, and that for all ye suffer your 
 reward shall be great ? Not a silent tear, not an 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 125 
 
 anguished cry but your God beholds; and His 
 word changeth not. It was no vain promise 
 that He made when He said : " Blessed are 
 they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." 
 
 wk 
 
 f: 
 
 f 
 
 
 
 ; 1 
 
 ^S\ 
 
 
ni 
 
 ia6 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PARTED. 
 
 I FOUND the wine that Alice had sent me for, 
 and returned with it, dazed and stupefied by 
 the sudden blow that had fallen on my hopes 
 When I reached the half-open door the sound 
 of my name caused me to pause, involuntarily. 
 It was Rose speaking to Alice. " You do not 
 love him," she was saying, "or you would not 
 so easily give him up. If you will give me 
 money enough to start a new life, I will go 
 away and never trouble either of you again. 
 You can marry him if you wish. I will be the 
 same as if dead." 
 
 I listened for the reply, curious as to how 
 Alice would receive this evil suggestion. 
 
 "Would you have me become vi^ base and 
 sinful as yourself? " was the reply. " You have 
 formed a wrong opinion of me. if 1 loved him 
 ever so dearly, still would I renounce him ; he 
 is bound to you." 
 
 J: 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 127 
 
 "You arc taking a very foolish view of t'.ic 
 matter," Rose answered. " He will be only too 
 glad to see the last of mc. I know he is in love 
 with you." 
 
 '* There are many kinds of love," Alice re- 
 plied ; " there is that deep and holy love which 
 passeth all understanding, and the pure love 
 that lives forever," — I waited to hear no more, 
 but entered the room. 
 
 "Now," I said, sternly, "in the presence of 
 the noble woman I love, I ask you why you 
 have duped and tricked me ? " 
 
 " I may as well tell you," she answered ; " I 
 see it is useless to hide the truth from you. 
 When Latondal abandoned me, sick and friend- 
 less, I returned to our old lodging-house, think- 
 ing to find some trace of you, but all in vain. I 
 remembered a friend I had in Boston, some 
 years before, and to her I went. There I slowly 
 recovered a little strength ; and then came 
 your letter of inquiry, and I told them to report 
 me as dead. I thought perhaps you would 
 marry again, and I could then extort an income 
 from you as hush money ; but I see I have 
 appeared too early on the scene," A hollow 
 cough interrupted her flow of words, and she 
 

 128 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 looked weak and exhausted. " It is no use 
 glaring at me like that," she said to me ; " I 
 have not long to live; and if I have sinned, I 
 have suffered." 
 
 " If you only want money," I said, "here, 
 take it and go, and never let me see your 
 cursed face again." 
 
 " Hush ! " Alice interposed. '* How can you 
 talk like that } Surely you, who have need of 
 forgiveness, can forgive ! " 
 
 I drew back with a shudder. " No," I said, 
 in an undertone, " I cannot." 
 
 "Poor creature!" Alice went on; "if she 
 should die to-night you would regret it." 
 
 ** For your sake, my darling," I whispered ; 
 then, turning to Rose I held out my hand : 
 " Here," I said, " I am willing to help you ; I will 
 see that you do not want for anything." 
 
 Words of this kind crushed her more than 
 anger would have done ; and, as Alice led her 
 gently from the room, I saw the tear-drops 
 glistening in her eyes. 
 
 For a long time after they left me I paced 
 the floor in silent agony. 
 
 " Fool that I was," I thought, bitterly, '« to 
 dream that any joy or peace could ever enter 
 
nil 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 129 
 
 my cursed life. Oh, that I were dead and free 
 from all this misery ! " 
 
 I cast myself helplessly into a chair. Some- 
 thing like a sob seemed to rise in my throat 
 and stick there, as I thought of parting from 
 Alice. Soft footsteps sounded on the carpet, 
 but I did not lift my head ; a gentle hand was 
 la»d on my arm, with a sympathetic touch — a 
 touch that would have had power to recall me 
 from the dead ; it was Alice come to comfort 
 me in my misery. 
 
 •' Bear it bravely," she whispered ; " God 
 sometimes punishes sin in this world that the 
 penalty may be lessened in the next." 
 
 " Don't talk to me of your God," I replied ; 
 " He has forgotten me." 
 
 "Don't say that," she pleaded; "have all 
 my teachings been in vain ? It would break 
 my heart if you were to turn atheist again." 
 
 " What does it matter ? " I answered ; " I 
 don't care now what becomes of me." 
 
 " But you must," she replied. " I think there 
 are many happy days in store for you. Do you 
 think I have not suffered also } Did you think 
 I - uld lightly lose you just as you were 
 beginning to be useful to .ne } But I have 
 
 9 
 
 .11 
 
I mi 
 
 130 
 
 BRiGin'ER SriIIlRES. 
 
 m 
 
 conquered it. I know that God does all for the 
 best." I raised my eyes and gazed at her, and 
 I saw that she had been praying ; all the misery 
 had died from her eyes, and instead they shone 
 with the light of faithfulness and trust. 
 
 " Why need we be unhappy ? " I said. " I 
 will get divorced from that creature, and then 
 we can be married." 
 
 ** No," she answered, " that would be useless; 
 though the laws of man would pronounce you 
 free, yet in the eyes of God that woman would 
 still be your wife." 
 
 *' Don't remind me of her," I protested. 
 " Let us forget her. Fly with me to some dis- 
 tant land. Don't be eternally thinking of a 
 future. There is no other life. Why not be 
 happy in this ? " 
 
 Slowly she drew back from me, an expression 
 i)f sorrow settling on her features ; it was her 
 first strong temptation, but she never wavered 
 for an instant. 
 
 " Don't talk to me in that manner," she said, 
 *' or you will teach me to despise you. What 
 have I ever done that you should think so little 
 of me ? " 
 
 Her whole attitude was so expressive of 
 sorrow that I cursed my hasty words. 
 
 r;: 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 131 
 
 " Forgive me," I pleaded ; " I am not myself 
 to-night. Speak one word of forgiveness, and I 
 will leave you and pass from your life forever.'' 
 
 Then she looked sadly at me. " Do you 
 think that I would be any happier for that ? " 
 she answered : " I too suffer ; yet I know that it 
 is all for the best. If you will go to some 
 friends of mine, I know that you will find a 
 comfortable refuge. They are a clergyman and 
 his aged wife. If anyone can make a Christian 
 of you, it is he. If you will go to them, I will 
 write at once; they live in Western Canada." 
 
 " What does it matter } " I said, in a despon- 
 dent tone ; "since I am to go from you, I don't 
 care what becomes of me." 
 
 "Well, I will go and write to them," she 
 answered ; " you had better try and get some 
 rest." 
 
 I almoft laughed at the idea, as she left me. 
 R^'s^ ! i felt as if I should never know any 
 rest ui. earth again. 
 
 The next day Rose left for Boston, well 
 supplied with money. She seemed overcome 
 by the kindness shown her, and promised to 
 lead a repentant life. I told her as soon as I 
 v: ., settled in my new home I would write to 
 
 II 
 
If • 
 
 ffl- 
 
 132 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 Alice received a favorable reply to her letter, 
 and it was decided that I should start the next 
 Monday. She would have liked to have seen a 
 complete reconciliation between Rose and my- 
 self, but I told her it was impossible ; that it was 
 better we should each work out repentance 
 separately. 
 
 My last Sunday with the Daltons was a sad 
 one. Alice gave me many good instructions, 
 and promised to ,^i3v earnestly for me. Never 
 shall forget our pai ; scene. It was a beau- 
 tiful winter's morning ; the freshly fallen snow 
 sparkled and glistened in the rays of the sun ; 
 the whole landscape was completely covered 
 with a mantle of white ; even the branches of 
 the trees were laden with it. 
 
 Alice stood in the doorway — a figure as pure 
 and spotless as the snow around her — a brave 
 smile resting on her features as she murmured 
 " farewell." 
 
 " Farewell ! " how sad the word, yet how 
 different its meaning ! To Alice it meant only 
 a brief farewell. 
 
 " We will meet again," she whispered ; " if not 
 on earth, it will be in that other life where all is 
 joy." 
 
 ,• t 
 

 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 «3: 
 
 To me it meant farewell to all hours of peace, 
 all moments of joy ; farewell to the fairest and 
 noblest of God's creatures, the woman I loved. 
 
 She had pressed her little Bible into my hand 
 at parting, and I looked at it sadly. She had 
 marked out several passages for me to study, 
 and I determined to do so. One thing pained 
 me deeply : she had told me not to write to her. 
 
 '^ I will hear of your progress from Mr. 
 Austin," she said ; " if in the end you conquer 
 all your doubts, it will please me greatly." 
 
 I found my new home was in a rustic village, 
 among a lot of true-hearted Christians. Some- 
 thing about it reminded me of my boyhood's 
 home. Mr. and Mrs. Austin were a friendly 
 old couple, and at once made me feel at home 
 To Mr. Austin I told a portion of my life, and 
 frankly recounted to him all my doubts on 
 Christianity. 
 
 "Ah, my boy," he said, " they will one day 
 pass away. I have met many like you, but in 
 the end truth conquered." 
 
 I now began to lead a life that I knew would 
 please Alice. Mr. Austin was old, and I helped 
 him in many ways. Often the dreary night 
 would find me a still watcher at some sick bed. 
 
 11 
 
I 
 
 ( 
 
 134 
 
 BRIG II ILK SriIERES. 
 
 For miles around the people began to know me. 
 I never prayed with them, but I would often 
 read the Bible at some bedside ; and the people 
 grew to look upon me as a Christian. Ali 
 doubt as to the existence ff a God was now re- 
 moved from me; it was the other dogmas of 
 Christianity that I could not master. In that 
 village home I learnt many lessons of patience 
 and self-denial. No sin seemed to tempt me, 
 for in that peaceful spot there lurked no evil. 
 Mr. Austin was ever ready to help me with 
 friendly counsel and advice. He it was who 
 first awoke me to a consciousness of my danger. 
 " Repent," he v.odlo say, " while there is time, 
 for no man knoweth the day nor the hour of 
 death's call." 
 
 I would listen silently to it all, pondering over 
 each word. Oh, the burden of a guilty con- 
 science ! how I wrestled with the wild throbbing 
 of my sinful soul ! The wrong:, I had inflicted on 
 Maud rose vividly before my heated imagina- 
 tion, until it seemed to me that I was past re- 
 demption. Oft in the silent hours of night, 
 visions would seem to float around me — visions 
 of Maud, not with celestial brow nor crown of 
 glory, for I believed it not j but I conjured her 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 »35 
 
 as of old, with sad face and reproachful c)cs, 
 that seemed to accuse me of being the cause of 
 her untimely death. 
 
 Those were my darkest hours ; yet, mingled 
 with this misery, came sweet memories of Alice, 
 like an oasis in the desert of my life. The time 
 was when I could have cursed the fate that had 
 thrown me in her path, since it was but to lose 
 her when apparently won. Now I was glad 
 that I had known her, glad to have loved her. 
 
 About this time I received a letter from Rose. 
 By its contents I surmised that she was un- 
 happy. The illness she was suffering from at 
 our last meeting had terminated in consumption. 
 I sent her all the money I could spare, and 
 though I felt it was my duty to go to her, I 
 could not do so just then — the wrongs of the 
 past were too vividly before me. 
 
 Why is human nature so obstinate, I wonder ? 
 Thou blessed Creator of mankind, who dost im- 
 plant in the souls of men passions which they 
 cannot control, how wonderful is Thy patience I 
 how forbearing Thy judgment! Here in the 
 Spirit world is seen Thy perfection ! Here in 
 these spheres of knowledge is known Thy love ! 
 
 \a 
 
 ■HI 
 
 I* 
 
 
136 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FREE AT LAST. 
 
 One morning I received a letter from Rose, and, 
 after reading it, I concluded to go to her. " The 
 end is approaching fast," she wrote, *' and soon 
 you will be free." 
 
 I knew if Alice were near me, she would bid 
 me go ; and for her sake I went. Ah, what a 
 strange meeting that was ! how different to what 
 I ever expected ! Rose, the dying, repentant 
 sinner, was a different being to the woman who 
 had wronged me ; and, at sight of her suffering, 
 all resentment died from my heart. 
 
 " It is so good of you to come," she murmured, 
 faintly ; " I did not expect it." 
 
 And now came a heavy trial for me. Da\' 
 after day she would question me as to the life 
 beyond — that life so dim and uncertain — upon 
 whose borderlands she stood. Alas! what could 
 I tell her ? How could I comfort her } 
 
 " Once, in the long ago, I could pray," she 
 murmured ; " now, I have forgotten how." 
 
 
BRIGHTER Sr [HIRES. 
 
 137 
 
 Tenderly I read to her the story of Christ's 
 love for sinners. How eagerly she grasped the 
 truth, how readily she believed it all! "There 
 is hope for me then," she would say ; " surely 
 He who was so meek, so patient, so humble, 
 will forgive. I am no longer afraid. Christ, so 
 kind, so good, will not desert a repentant sinner." 
 
 Poor trusting heart, no shadow of a doubt 
 came to mar the tranquillity of her mind. She 
 trusted in the Saviour's promises much more 
 readily than I did. She believed, yet she had 
 no proof beyond what I had read to her. 
 
 She spoke no more of a life beyond the grave. 
 *' I know there is one," she said. " What it will 
 be for me I know not, but oh, the regret, the 
 misery of the thought, that I have lived in vain ! " 
 
 1 lingerer^ by her side for two or three weeks, 
 patiently waiting for the end. It was pitiful to 
 behold her suffering; yet, through it all she 
 never murmured. Once she spoke to me of 
 Alice. " When I am dead," she said, '* I hope 
 you will marry her ; she is a good woman, and 
 the first night I saw her, I perceived the con- 
 trast between us. Tell her I died trusting in 
 the Master she loves." 
 
 The end came at dawn of the next day. I 
 
 ii-r s 
 

 ;>t 
 
 138 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 held her hand in mine, and, at her request, I 
 repeated the Lord's prayer. It was the first 
 time I had truly prayed. As I did so, a flood 
 of holy light seemed to illumine my soul, and I 
 knew that I had found th^ truth at last- As I 
 repeated the last words, a smile flitted over tlic 
 dying features before me. Gently the angel of 
 death loosened her weary spirit, and it fled. I 
 stood beside her, silent and motionless, trusting 
 that she had found the Saviour as merciful as 
 He was represented to be; and as I stood there 
 in the dim light and unbroken silence, T vowed 
 to live a life of amendment in the future, and 
 atone for each sin I had committed. 
 
 After a lonely funeral, I returned to Mr. 
 Austin's ; but not before I had placed a simple 
 slab of white marble on the grave of her who, in 
 spite of all her faults, was yet sacred in death. 
 Strangers often view that lonely grave, and they 
 know not that underneath it sleeps one of the 
 most beautiful women the world has ever seen. 
 Who shall judge her } Reader, surely not you, 
 nor I ! Can we not safely trust her to that 
 Saviour who came not to call the just, but the 
 sinner, to repentance } 
 
 For three long months I worked steadily 011 
 
 *; V 
 
! I 
 
 JiKIClITKR SPIIEKES, 
 
 »39 
 
 with Mr. Austin. I would have Hked to have 
 gone straight to Alice, now that I was free to 
 love her ; but I contented myself with writing her 
 a full account of what had happened, knowing 
 that it would please her best if I waited and 
 curbed my impatience before again seeking her 
 love. I thought it strange that no answer came 
 to my letter. Mr. Austin, too, became anxious, 
 for he had not heard from the Daltons for some 
 time. I resolved to go to Montreal at once, and 
 surprise them with a visit. Mr. Austin showed 
 much regret when I spoke of leaving them. 
 " Something tells me you will not come back," 
 he said ; " but wherever you go, I pray that God 
 will bless you " 
 
 That night — Sunday it was — I stood in the 
 crowded church listening to his loved voice for 
 the last time. Every word he spoke seemed 
 intended for me alone. It all struck me so 
 forcibly, that I remember it to this day. He 
 took his text from the third chapter of St. John, 
 36th verse : " He that believeth on the Son 
 hath everlasting life ; and he that believeth not 
 the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God 
 abideth on him." ** Those words," he continued, 
 in a reverent tone, " refer to Jesus Christ — Son 
 
 
 t ,* 
 
 » >: 
 
 m: 
 
s^^l 
 
 
 140 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 •\l 
 
 of- the living God — who partook of our human 
 nature, that we might the better understand 
 Him. Had He come as a conquering king, sur- 
 rounded with majesty and glory, men would 
 have shrunk from Him in terror and affright — 
 even as the Israelites did at Mount Sinai; but 
 behold, He came as a lowly child, sharing all 
 the privations and miseries so common to 
 humanity. Some say Pie was not God ; but, if 
 He was not God, who was He } Surely no 
 false prophet ! Surely no ordinary man ! He 
 must have been God, or He would not have 
 promised so much. Has He not said, ' I am 
 with you always.* How could He say this if He 
 did not possess the power to be always with us } 
 O ye men of little faith, can you not pierce the 
 clouds of doubt that surround you, and fly 
 onward through the dark sea of misery, and 
 enter in imagination the unknown world, where 
 you can picture Him in the perfection of glory .? 
 But if your faith will not do this, then take your 
 Bible and read carefully His earthly life, and 
 find there thy proof, O doubting soul." 
 
 Some more words followed, and then, after 
 the usual service, I went alone out into the 
 moonlight, pondering over the words that had 
 
^^r 
 
 BRIG II TER SPHERES. 
 
 141 
 
 impressed mc. Once I wcuild have laughed at 
 it all. How often had I ridiculed Christians 
 and called them superstitious fools! but I re- 
 gretted it now. How much good mi^;ht have 
 resulted, had I known the truth in my earlier 
 years ! No wonder that Alice had shrunk from 
 the idea of marrying me. I was unwortliN* (f 
 her in every way. Perhaps now, if I leturned 
 to her, she would receive me coldly; but, if she 
 would not marry me, I would be content to live 
 near her and see her sometimes. Life apart 
 from her would be a living death : yet, once 
 married to her, I could become good and noble. 
 With her to help me I could accor plish great 
 things, without her I was helpless. 
 
 A strange sensation came over me as I 
 thought of her. It seemed to me that I was 
 conscious of her presence near me ; and I almost 
 fancied that I could hear her voice whispering 
 to me amid the shadows. And then I pictured 
 her as I had seen her last — a pretty figure in the 
 snow-bound scenery — and I wondered greatly 
 how she would receive me. Would it be with 
 glad surprise, or cold displeasure } 
 
 I had drawn near to the house and was about 
 to enter, when I was startled by the figure of a 
 
 s> \\ 
 
 rf i 
 
Pf^W^ 
 
 142 
 
 n RIG I I TER SPHERES. 
 
 
 M 
 
 man, emerging from the shadow of a tree near 
 by. As viewed in the rays of the fitful moon- 
 light, there was something familiar in the attitude 
 of the form that reminded me of the past. 
 
 " Is it you, Arthur ? " he said. And as he 
 spoke I recognized him. I was face to face with 
 my father. 
 
 *' You ! " I cried, in amazement, ** what brings 
 you here .'* " 
 
 " Come inside," he said, with a sigh, " and I 
 will tell you all." 
 
 I was so utterly astonished by his unexpected 
 presence that I complied without a word ; and 
 lo<> ether we entered the house. 
 
 " You wonder how I have found you," he 
 began, after we were seated in my own room. 
 " 1 heard of you in Boston, where you buried 
 that woman you called your wife. From there 
 1 traced you here ; and I am sorry to see you 
 have fallen so low as this." Here he glanced 
 contemptuously around the plainly-furnished 
 room. 
 
 " And yet," I answered, " I am about to begin 
 a life wherein I shall be happier than I have ever 
 been." 
 
 " Rubbish ! " he retorted ; " people make their 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 HZ 
 
 own happiness, and spoil it, too, very often. 
 However, I am not here to reproach you with 
 the past. My other children are dead. I am 
 now a childless man, whose years perhaps are 
 numbered ; and I am come to offer you back 
 your rightful place in your own home. You 
 have sown your wild oats, and I expect you to 
 settle down now to a quiet life." 
 
 " Do you know that I have become a (^hris- 
 tain } " I asked, after a slight pause. 
 
 " I have judged as much from the people you 
 are living with," he replied, " but you will give 
 up all those foolish ideas. I think you are only 
 acting a part, and don't believe in Christianity 
 any more than I do." 
 
 ** You are laboring under a mistake," I rejoined, 
 somewhat hastily, " I am not playing a part. 
 My eyes have been opened and I know the 
 truth." 
 
 " What nonsense I " he answered ; " you will 
 find it is only a mockery — ail the creation of 
 some man's brain." 
 
 " No," I answered, * it is the truth ; and if I 
 comply with your request and return home, it 
 will be with the assurance that I shall have 
 liberty to practice Christianity. Besides, I in- 
 
 .:« if 'J as 
 
 i 
 
 i.s. ; ' 
 
\? I. it', 
 
 "■^ 
 
 144 
 
 BRIG II 7 'I:K si 'II ekes. 
 
 tend to seek the hand of a Christian lady in 
 marriage." 
 
 " You are just as stubborn as ever," he said ; 
 " I might as well have remained at home. 
 You have always thwarted every wish of mine." 
 
 " I am sorry, but I cannot give up my opinions," 
 I answered, " and there is more happiness for 
 me in the path I have marked out for the future, 
 if I only succeed in winning the woman I love." 
 
 He came closer to me, a pleading look soften- 
 ing his features. " My boy," he said, " will }-ou 
 not give up all those ideas and return with mc } 
 You will soon forget it all. " 
 
 " Have I not already answered you ? " I 
 repli d. 
 
 ** But you do not mean that," he answered. 
 '• n.ave I not told you thai T am childless, and 
 my home is desolate. Return to your old home 
 and forget this woman you speak of. I am your 
 
 father, and should have the first claim on your 
 affection." 
 
 For the moment my heart softened towaras 
 him, as I perceived the change sorrow had 
 wrought in his appearance. His once vigorous 
 form looked feeble and bent, and deep lines uf 
 care marked his countenance. I was undecided 
 
f \ 
 
 4 .S 
 
 ryRIGIirER SPHERES 
 
 145 
 
 i ? 
 
 how to answer him. I never thought for an 
 
 instant of giving up the plan I had formed. 
 
 Softly through my heart came the remem.brancc 
 
 of some words Alice had once said to mc : 
 
 "The man who would renounce all the wealth 
 
 of the world, forsaking all for Christ — I should 
 
 deem him worthy of being called a hero." 
 
 " I have not very long to live," my father 
 
 went on ; "and at my dcith you will possess all 
 
 I have." 
 
 ** No," I answered, "it can never be; now 
 
 that I have found the truth, I cannot lightly 
 
 throw it aside." 
 
 " You will repent it one day," he said, in 
 
 anger, " when this woman turns from you ; and 
 
 then you will wish you had done as I asked 
 
 you." 
 
 He turned as if to leave the room, but I 
 
 called him back. *• Stay," I said. •' Before you 
 
 go I have something to tell you. While I was 
 
 an atheist I knew no real happiness. You know 
 
 well all the misery I caused those around mc ; 
 
 but as I sinned, so have I suffered. When in 
 
 an hour of dark despair I intended to kill those 
 
 who had wronged me — and then myself — there 
 
 came to me an angel in human form. She was 
 
 30 
 
 '<f<fl 
 
 Ui 
 
i 
 
 ii^ 
 
 146 
 
 BRIGIITER SPHERES. 
 
 only a Christian maiden with a pure and lofty 
 soul. Daily I lived in her presence and grew 
 to love her, even as the flowers love the sun- 
 shine. She it was who brought my soul from 
 the heavy darkness of sin into the eternal light. 
 Don't think it was an easy task, for the strong 
 belief of years was hard to battle with, and even 
 now I have much to learn ; still, though un- 
 worthy of the name, I call myself a Christian." 
 
 '•What is the use of telling me all this ? " he 
 said in an angry tone. " I tell you that some 
 day you will be sorry for it ! " 
 
 I followed him out into the hall, loth to part 
 from him in anger. *' Is this a final parting ? " 
 I asked ; *' can there be no peace between us ? " 
 
 "No," he said, sternly. "I was a fool to 
 come near you." 
 
 It was with a heavy heart I saw him take his 
 departure, watching his form till it faded from 
 my sight ; and so we parted to meet on earth 
 no more. 
 
 This visit of his somewhat damped my 
 happiness. I did not like to think of him as 
 miserable in his old age. I comforted myself 
 with the reflection that I would tell Alice all 
 about it. She would advise me what was best 
 
i 1 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 '47 
 
 to do ; and, before retiring to rest, I made the 
 few necessary preparations for my journey. 
 
 It was a bright sunshiny morning when I 
 started for Montreal, and my heart beat high in 
 anticipation of happier days, Mr. Austin wrung 
 my hand warmly at parting. " If anything hap- 
 pens to frustrate your plans," he said, "you 
 must return here and make your home with us." 
 I thanked him and promised to do so, yet hoped 
 that it would be otherwise. No foreboding: 
 came to me of anything wrong. I believed 
 that fate intended to be kind to me at last, and 
 that the future would be clear and bright. 
 
 Is it not a merciful Providence that has 
 ordained it so ? Thank your God, O ye people 
 of the earth, that the future is hidden from you 
 in a sea of mystery ! ! Be happy in the present, 
 well content to leave the future in His hands, 
 and seek not to pry into that which He has 
 intended you should not know; for "sufficient 
 untt) the day is the evil thereof." And when 
 life's brief journey is ended, and the spirit 
 world with all its wonders is opened to you, 
 then will you see light on subjects which now 
 seem so dark to you ; then will you know the 
 "why" and "wherefore" of "this thing" and 
 
 J ! 
 
 M 
 
 * i 
 
 ' 1, 
 
 .•!■ ' 
 
 
I 
 
 ^H 
 
 148 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 "that." 3o» t>e comforted, O ye troubled 
 hearts ! Know ye, that not even a sparrow falls 
 unnoticed by the Father ; and how much more 
 worthy of His regard are ye, O men of little 
 faith! 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 149 
 
 I 
 
 ' \ .11 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN. 
 
 When I arrived in Montreal, I could hardly 
 restrain my joy at the prospect of seeing Alice. 
 There was every indication of a heavy storm. 
 Overhead the dark clouds hung thick and heavy, 
 and there was that strange stillness in the 
 atmosphere, sure token that the elements would 
 soon be at war. 
 
 Passing a florist's, and knowing the passion 
 that Alice had for flowers, I purchased the 
 choicest blossoms I could find. I had them 
 neatly laid on a bed of green moss ; and taking 
 them with me, I hurried to reach the house 
 before the storm should overtake me. I knew 
 that it was a good hour to find them at home. 
 I pictured their surprise on seeing me ; and I 
 felt that I should soon know my fate. 
 
 I was still unworthy of aspiring to the love of 
 one so good, but I fondly hoped that she would 
 help me to attain that perfection which she had 
 
 ' iii 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
IB 
 
 1 ''U- 
 
 150 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 ■; ' '' 
 
 already reached. The door was opened by the 
 same girl that was with them when I left. She 
 gave a start of surprise on beholding me. 
 
 " Is Mr. Dalton at home ? " I asked, as I 
 followed her into the house. 
 
 "Why, no," she replied ; "did he not write to 
 you before he went to England ? " 
 
 "I did not hear of it," I said. "Tell Miss 
 Dalton that I am here." 
 
 The girl looked at me in astonishment. "Do 
 you not know," she replied, " that Miss Dalton 
 is dead ? " 
 
 I looked at her in sudden rage. " Don't jest 
 with mc," I said impatiently. 
 
 " I am in earnest," she answered ; "see, here 
 is the notice of her death I cut from the paper. 
 Mr. Dalton was so broken-hearted by the blow 
 that he could not bear to live here." 
 
 I gazed around the familiar room and half 
 expected to see her come forward to greet me. 
 I tried to read the notice, but the words seemed 
 to dance before my eyes. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " I asked, as the awful 
 truth burst upon me. 
 
 ** It was fever," the girl answered. " Poor, 
 gentle creature, she was visiting some of the 
 
BRIGHTER SrULRES. 
 
 15' 
 
 poor and found some stricken with disease. It 
 proved contagious ; and in a few days she was 
 in her bed, never to rise again." 
 
 Here the good-natured girl pressed her hand 
 over her eyes to hide the tears. " It was piti- 
 ful, sir," she went on, " to see one so good taken, 
 while the bad ones are left. But she never 
 murmured : she was patient to the end." 
 
 "Take me to the room she died in," I said; 
 and in silence I ascended the staircase. 
 
 " Here it is, sir," the girl said, opening a door. 
 
 " Will you leave me here for a little while ?" 
 I asked ; " I would rather be alone." 
 
 She complied, closing the door after her ; and 
 I gazed about me in mute despair. How well 
 I knew that room ! How familiar was each 
 object ! It was the dainty rose-tinted room in 
 which I had first beheld her. She must have 
 occupied it after I left. My eyes fell on the 
 flowers I had brought for her. I had chosen 
 them, because I knew she would prize them 
 better than the rarest jewels. Now my heart 
 was smitten with anguish, as I realized the 
 truth. I dashed the box on the floor and 
 stamped upon it in my rage. Outside the 
 storm had burst in all its fury, and I crouched 
 
 ri !i 
 
 1 . 
 
n^ 
 
 '52 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 by the open window and spread my arms out 
 into the gathering darkness. *' Dead ! " I cried, 
 " and I knew it not ! Dead ! and must I 
 still live on ? and through the coming years 
 shall I listen in vain for the sound of her dear 
 voice ? No, no, she cannot be dead ! " " Dead ! " 
 The lightning seemed to whisper the word as 
 it flashed upon my stricken form. " Dead ! '* 
 the thunder echoed as it died away in the 
 distance. " Dead ! " cried my despairing heart. 
 " How can she be dead ? She believed in 
 another life! She must live on somewhere! 
 Such a soul was not created for this passing 
 life ! She must still live on ! She was too 
 good to die ! " I peered out into the vapory 
 darkness and eagerly scanned the angry sky, 
 as if my eyes could pierce the veil of mystery 
 that hid her from my sight. 
 
 " O my darling I " I cried, *' can my eyes not 
 reach thee on that unknown shore .'' Can I not 
 see thy spirit face, or behold thy phantom 
 form ? Never, never, till I too am dead ! " 
 
 Softly through the rising mists I fancied I 
 saw her come. Methought I saw her dear face 
 smiling on me in my anguish ; while borne on 
 the rustling wind came the faint sound of her 
 
 •■i\\ 
 
!' 
 
 BRIGirrER SrifERES. 
 
 »53 
 
 spirit voice. " I am not dead," it seemed to 
 i^ay; ''I live ajrain in Clirist." 
 
 I held out my hands as if to grasp her, but 
 they encountered only the cold rain drops. 
 I called aloud to her, but the thunder drowned 
 my voice, and nothing remained but the empty 
 darkness. She was not dead ! O blessed 
 assurance? My darling lived, lived on, glorified 
 and immortal. I bowed my head, and my soul 
 went out in adoration to the God who had 
 blessed us with an immortal life. 
 
 1 could no longer doubt the immortality of 
 the soul. 
 
 " O God of the sorrowful," I prayed, " help 
 me to bear this blow. All my life I have ignored 
 Thee — have despised Thy doctrines. Now, O 
 God, I beseech Thee to let me live the life my 
 darling led. Make me like her, so that I may 
 one day be deemed worthy of living with her 
 in Thy eternal home ! " 
 
 The thought comforted me, and I arose, 
 resolved to devote my life to Christ as she 
 had done. 
 
 " Spirit of my dead Alice, descend upon me ! " 
 I cried, " and help me through the dreary years. 
 Give me thy blessing to comfort and cheer me 
 in the lonely future ! " 
 
 ij 
 
 lit 
 
 ilM ! 
 
 I : 
 
m 
 
 »54 
 
 liRlcn TER SPHERES. 
 
 How desolate tlic future appeared to mc ! 
 How dreary the coming- years ! Yet in the 
 distance, hope, Hie a lone star, shone upon me 
 — the hope of one day entering the immort;il 
 life, where I could enjoy the eternal peace with 
 her who was dead to me in life. 
 
 Through all my grief I perceived the hand of 
 God heavy against me. I had sinned deep!}-, 
 and " the wages of sin is death." A living death 
 was my punishment — a life wherein no joy could 
 enter ; for with the loss of her I loved came 
 death to every joy of my existence. 
 
 To Alice there came no death. It was mere- 
 ly a short journe}' — a passing transition from a 
 dark world of sin to brighter spheres of eternal 
 peace and joy. 
 
 I left the house — a sad and altered man. I 
 was undecided where I should go. I longed to 
 visit my old home, and view once more the 
 scenes of my childhood. Who, in an hour of 
 sorrow, does not remember with regret the 
 happy hours of childhood } 
 
 I knew it was useless for me to think of going 
 home — there would only be another quarrel 
 with my father. I knew that we would never 
 agree on the subject of religion, and I thought 
 
 
 it* 
 il 
 
nRiairrER spheres. 155 
 
 I had better return to Mr. Austin. With him I 
 would coninience a life of help and devotion 
 to the Master's cause. 
 
 The next day found me on my way to him. 
 I was received with looks of surprise at my 
 changed appearance. I had left them a young 
 man, full of hope ; and I returned, haggard and 
 prematurely aged — my dark hair plentifully 
 sprinkled with threads of silvery white. I told 
 them what had happened, and the worthy 
 couple were greatly shocked at the sad news. 
 
 "But why should we mourn for her.''" Mr. 
 Austin said ; " we know that she has entered 
 that eternal rest which God gives His beloved." 
 
 I told Mr. Austin the life I had intended to 
 lead, and he was much pleased at my decision. 
 "You should study for the ministry," he said, 
 "and when my hour comes to die, I shall rest 
 content that you will faithfully continue the 
 work I have begun." 
 
 I promised him I would ; but I knew that I 
 would need much improvement before I should 
 be worthy to work as he did. 
 
 I wrote to my father and explained to him 
 the disappointment I had received, and also the 
 life I was about to begin. I received no answer 
 
 
 
 •\ \\ 
 
 M 
 
Ki:J: 
 
 156 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 for some time. Then c.i.ac a letter from the 
 family lawyer, informing me that my father and 
 his wife were gone to England. Enclosed I 
 found a cheque. It was for a comparatively 
 small amount, yet to me it was very acceptable. 
 
 All through the long summer months I studied 
 harder than ever. Mr. Austin was failing fast, 
 and each day found him more feeble, and the 
 hardest work devolved on me. Besides a class 
 for young men, I had Sunday school for the 
 small boys of the village, and the aged poor to 
 attend to ; so that my time was fully occupied. 
 Through ic all the memory of Alice cheered me 
 on. I knew that I had much to learn before I 
 became the Christian she was ; and much to 
 atone for, before I should be worthy to stand in 
 the presence of the incomprehensible God, who 
 was well aware of the faults of the creature He 
 had made. Often in the night I suffered untold 
 pangs of misery ; and I lifted my voice to God 
 in the darkness, pleading for mercy and pardon 
 for the past. 
 
 Sometimes Mr. Austin would ask me to 
 preach or lecture to the class, and a sense of my 
 unworthiness would come over me. I would be 
 at a loss what to say ; but, after a silent prayer, 
 
 A • ^ 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 157 
 
 the words would flow, and almost unconsciously 
 I worked upon the feelings of my hearers, until 
 many doubting hearts were convinced. 
 
 I did not set myself up amongst them as an 
 example, or a shining light, but as a struggling 
 sinner working for the truth ; and, strange to 
 say, my work was successful, and I accomplished 
 much good. I helped many a despairing fcUow- 
 creature into a better way of living ; and many 
 a night, while Mr. Austin took his rest, I went 
 about among the sick and suffering. 
 
 Sometimes, when alone with nature, my soul 
 would rise in adoration to God, until by degrees 
 my thoughts were rapt above the earth, away 
 far into the mysterious regions where I knew 
 th? t Alice dwelt ; and I would try to picture 
 her blest and immortal, reaping the harvest of 
 the good seed she had sown on earth. 
 
 It grieved me to think of my father. He 
 never wrote to me ; yet I prayed daily for his 
 conversion, and longed for him to experience 
 the comfort of religion. He was dragging out 
 his existence in darkness and sin, and he wou.d 
 know nothing of eternal life until his soul, bereft 
 of its earthly covering, should stand in the 
 presence of a judging — yet I trusted a merciful 
 — God. 
 
 1 '*' 
 
 ! I 
 
 I ;, 
 
 HI 1 
 
 wi 
 
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 Dili 
 
 If 
 
 i- •'. &\ 
 
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iss 
 
 nniGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 The people around me seemed much affected 
 by my teachings. I did not preach to them 
 after the usual manner. I left aside the doctrines 
 I thought to be mistakes. About eternal punish- 
 ment, I still had my doubts. I simply urged 
 them to live a life of good. To those who needed 
 help I spoke of the Saviour's love, and of the 
 mercy shown by Him to sinners. At the end 
 of these meetings I would find many waiting to 
 ask me questions, which I sometimes found hard 
 to answer. 
 
 " Do you think all sinners will be saved ? " 
 one man asked me. 
 
 " Look around you," I replied, "and behold 
 the many instances of God's love for sinners. 
 Is it likely that He who cares for us in a life of 
 sin will abandon us in that life in which we 
 hope for rest and reward for our work .'' " 
 
 " But what of the sinners who die without 
 repenting } " the man persisted. 
 
 " I think we can trust that God has provided 
 a place of repentance in the life to come. I 
 think it is wrong for us to judge what shall be 
 the future of sinners. He who created them 
 did not do so with the intention of placing them 
 in everlasting torment." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 .About this time an event took place which 
 threw a gloom over the village — Mr. Austin's 
 death. Poor man, he stood bravely to his post; 
 yet, when death came, he was ready for its 
 summons. 
 
 In him I had found a true friend, and I missed 
 him in many ways. A work that he had begun 
 was left to me to finish. Though he was dead 
 his work lived on, and many Christian hearts 
 followed after his example. A younger man 
 replaced him — a man worthy of following in 
 his footsteps. 
 
 I took up my head-quarters in the village, 
 and went steadily on with my work. I left 
 myself completely in the hands of God. Some- 
 times I would wander away from home, wher- 
 ever His spirit led me, and preach the Gospel. 
 In this way the years passed, and I waited 
 patiently till death should set my spirit free to 
 rest from my labors. 
 
 I shall now pass over a longer period of 
 such a life — some ten years or more — and again 
 I will come before the reader, as an old man — a 
 man whose days are numbered, and whose 
 heart was buried in the grave of the woman he 
 loved. Yet I would speak a word of warning 
 
 I ! 
 
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Ilpl 
 
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 i6o 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 before closing these earthly scenes. I would 
 ask you people of the earth so to live, that when 
 you die you can look back on life without a 
 shudder for your crimes. Here, everything is 
 so pure, so calm, so peaceful, that the sins com- 
 mitted on earth rise up and haunt the memory 
 — even as the murderer is haunted by the cries 
 of his victim. 
 
 And now I am nearing the end of my history 
 on earth — nearing that scene in which the Angel 
 of Death will play a prominent part. Read it 
 as a message from another world ; for it is true» 
 and truth will prevail ! 
 
 \\\\ 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 x6l 
 
 i 
 
 .;^ || A\ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CLOSING SCENES. 
 
 J' I 
 
 iilii 
 
 Slowly in the western sky tlie autumn sun is 
 sinking to its rest. All day long it has scorched 
 with its powerful rays each tiny flower and 
 blade of grass that deck the meadows. Now a 
 gentle dew refreshes the parched earth ; while 
 a soft wind sweeps gradually over the rising 
 landscape. I stand alone on the hillside and 
 gaze around me. Beneath lay the village — the 
 scenecf my labors. Why was I loth to leave it, 
 I wondered ; for in my hand I held a letter that 
 called me thence, and the prospect saddened 
 me. But I knew it was my duty, and I would 
 go. The letter wa. /rom Boston, urging me to 
 come at onte and begin my labors there. 
 Never did the village seem so dear to me as 
 when I knew I must leave it. Still my work there 
 was nearly ended. I should leave behind me 
 many true Christians, many true soldiers of God. 
 Across the meadows came the laborers, return- 
 ing from their day's work. They greeted me 
 
 11 
 
 Pfff 
 
 I'l ; 
 
1 62 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 kindly as they passed. How well I knew them 
 all! Not one that had not come to me and 
 told me his hopes and joys. . It would be hard 
 to say farewell, hard to leave them, perhaps for 
 ever. Yet I would not hesitate to obey duty's 
 call. Go, I must, be the results good or evil; 
 and I trusted that He whose hand had led me 
 thus far would lead me safely to the end. 
 Soon the villagers had all passed, and I was 
 again alone, though in the distance I could 
 discern their forms as they loitered on the way, 
 resting from the labors of the day. 
 
 A stranger passing through the village would 
 behold those scenes as in days of yore — the 
 merry children playing in their childish glee, 
 the solitary couple loitering in the by-ways ; 
 all peaceful and calm, watched over by the 
 Father with loving care. 
 
 As I walked homeward in the gathering 
 twilight, recollections of by-gone years stole 
 over me. Again I fancied myself a youth 
 standing on the threshold of manhood, the 
 future looming bright and clear before me. 
 And then, the faces of loved ones floated through 
 my fancy. Lastly, I wondered if, when my 
 earthly probation was ended, I should find those 
 who had gone before. 
 
 i^htl 
 
ii HI 
 I: 'i| 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 163 
 
 I had never been gifted with poetical fancies, 
 but now my life came rhyming in verses through 
 my brain, I give them as they were — called 
 
 THE STREAM OF LIFE. 
 
 I was floating down the river— 
 
 The river called the Stream of Life- 
 Knowing not of God, the Giver 
 Of the bright, eternal Life. 
 
 Then the Stream of Life grew troubled j 
 Darkness hid me from the shore ; 
 
 *• I am lost ! " I vainly shouted ; 
 *' I am lost for evermore ! " 
 
 And the angry waters near me — 
 
 The waters called the Sea of Death—- 
 
 "Were ever ready lo engulf me 
 'Neath their dark and dismal depth. 
 
 But the Father, ever watchful 
 Of the precious soul He'd made. 
 
 Led my Spirit, weak and doubtful, 
 To the shore, 'neaih mercy's shade. 
 
 There the darkness faded from me, 
 I had found the truth at last, 
 
 And th' eternal lii;ht shone on me j 
 I was saved — the danger past. 
 
 Gently then the stream flowed onward ; 
 
 I floated on without a care, 
 Steering my frail craft homeward, 
 
 Safe beneath the Father's caie. 
 
 Now Life's Stream is nearly ended; 
 
 Soon I'll reach the tternal shore, 
 Where, in jiy and glory blended, 
 
 I hope to reign f tr ever more. 
 
 'i 
 
 
 '1 
 
 |( 
 
 
164 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 I wrote the words on a slip of paper, which I 
 afterwards lost ; but they are fresh in my memory 
 still. 
 
 It was no easy task to inform the simple- 
 hearted villagers of my intended departure. 
 They had become attached to me, and I to 
 them. They had made me a sharer of their 
 joys and sorrows ; and many were the looks of 
 regret when they heard that I was going to 
 leave them. 
 
 Once i had made up my mind, I did not 
 linger long, but began preparations to start 
 without delay. The night before my journey I 
 entered the class-room to say a few parting 
 words. They were all there — the people I had 
 worked amongst. The room was crowded — 
 many with sad faces and dejected air. How 
 vividly they rise before me now — those faces of 
 the past ! Some of them I meet here ; and oh ! 
 how happy is that meeting, where there is no 
 earthly care to mar the joy, no dark clouds to dim 
 the future ! It is but the answer to my prayer 
 of that night ; for, as we knelt in prayer, I be- 
 sought the God of Glory, who had ordained 
 that we should part, that in His own time we 
 should meet together in the glory of His 
 
HRrCIITER SPHERES, 165 
 
 immortal home. It was over at last : the final 
 ■good-bye spoken, the last farewell whispered, 
 accompanied by hearty hand-shakes and many 
 wishes of God-speed ; and I lingered in the 
 doorway — a lonely figure — as I watched them 
 fading from sight, little knowing that it was the 
 last I should see of them on earth. 
 
 The next morning I started early for the 
 scene of my new work. Boston was much the 
 same then as it is now. I had plenty of work 
 to do : I found many sinful souls; and I did 
 my utmost to save them from a life of crime. 
 
 About this time it entered my head to write 
 the history of my life and publish it to the 
 world, thinking it would perhaps prove a lesson 
 to mankind ; but I had not much time to begin 
 it, so I determined to wait until I could obtain 
 time to go to Montreal. There, where I had 
 found salvation, I would write a full account 
 of it. My father was still in England, and 
 strangers occupied the old home. I did not go 
 there — old memories were too strong within me 
 just then ; so I contented myself with my work, 
 well satisfied that I was doing some good ; and 
 God looked on my efforts and blessed them, 
 and my work prospered. 
 
 i 
 
 1 1 
 
166 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 rfS> 
 
 In midwinter I suddenly made up my mind 
 to visit Montreal, where there was to be a Carni- 
 val.* The rates would be red uced, and, as my 
 means were limited, I concluded to avail myself 
 of the chance. Once there, I would take some 
 rest, and then begin my history. 
 
 Strange that I fancied Alice so near me at 
 that time. It seemed to me that she was direct- 
 ing me onward. I had never forgotten a single 
 expression of her dear face ; it was as fresh in 
 my memory as the first time I beheld her. Other 
 faces, fair and beautiful, had crossed my path, but 
 never one with such an expression of purity 
 and truth as hers. It would pain me, I knew, 
 to visit the old scenes wherein I had first known 
 her ; but I would conquer my sorrow, trusting 
 that some day it would pass away and in the 
 end I should know peace. 
 
 I purchased a return ticket on the Central 
 Vermont line, and, without telling any one 
 where I was going, I started on my journey. I 
 had a reason for secrecy : many Boston ians 
 would be in Montreal, and, if they knew I was 
 there, would expect me to join them ; but I 
 was going, not for amusement, but for rest. 
 
 •The Carnival of 1887. 
 
 >J; •! 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 167 
 
 The night was clear and frosty. From above 
 a bright moon sent down her silvery rays, 
 causing the leafless trees to cast their shadows 
 on the snow-bound region. On, on, the engine 
 rushed, with its train of cars, scattering in every 
 direction a shower of fiery sparks. On, on, it 
 went, speeding past the quaint homesteads and 
 quiet villages that looked so weird in the moon- 
 light. 
 
 There was the usual rumbling noise. Many 
 of the passengers had retired to rest, sleeping 
 all unconscious of the cruel fate su soon to 
 overtake them. I was sitting alone, read- 
 ing an extract from a sermon I had copied. 
 The air of the car was insufferably close. The 
 stoves were filled with burning coals that sent 
 forth an intense heat, making the hot air flutter 
 through the car like faint smoke. There came 
 to me no thought of danger — all was so tranquil. 
 I sat there, calm, and knowing not that I should 
 not see, in life, the well-remembered scenes I 
 was then lookfng forward to. 
 
 There was a screech from the locomotive as 
 it neared a small wooden bridge. Suddenly I 
 felt a swerving, jolting motion ; there was a 
 crash, and before I realized what had happened, 
 
 
 Hi 
 
.1 j 
 
 1 68 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 I felt myself falling through space, the broken 
 timbers falling around mc, while shouts of wild 
 horror arose on the frosty air. I came in con- 
 tact with the cold ground, and then became 
 oblivious of all around me. 
 
 I must have sunk into a dream or trance. It 
 seemed as if I stood in the midst of a fragrant 
 garden, where many rare things passed before 
 my wondering eyes, Bright-plumaged birds 
 filled the air with their sweet song, and all 
 around me flowers of rich variety sprang in 
 their verdant beauty. A stream of crystal 
 water flowed beside me, and on the brink stood 
 a woman clad in robes of white. Slowly she 
 turned towards me and I beheld the face of 
 Alice. I tried to reach her, but some unseen 
 force held me back. All the passionate love 
 arose within me. Ah, if I could only reach her, 
 I would never let her from my grasp ! Death 
 itself would not possess the power to sever us ! 
 If she would but come closer, I would tell her 
 that, living or dead, she was mine ! 
 
 It turned dark, and the bright dream was 
 gone. I awoke to the awful reality. The sky 
 above me was lit up with a lurid glare, and I 
 could hear the fierce roaring of the flames as they 
 went on with their deadly work. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 169 
 
 For five or ten minutes I lay trying to recall 
 what had happened. I tried to rise, but I was 
 covered with the fallen debris and broken timber, 
 and found that I could not stir. I felt as if I 
 was freezing^, yet ever nearer to me came the 
 deadly flames, while the cries, and appeals for 
 help which could not be rendered, were per- 
 fectly frightful to listen to. 
 
 Suddenly I awoke to a sense of my own 
 danger. Unless help soon reached me I was 
 doomed. I gazed around me helplessly. Nearer 
 came the flames ; already I could feel their hot 
 breath. Yes, God help me, I thought, I was 
 doomed to an awful death. In that minute 
 every act of my life arose before me with startling 
 distinctness. Faces that I had forgotten — the 
 old, evil companions of the gambling den — now 
 came before me, mocking my anguish. All 
 Christians believe in a hell j but there is no hell 
 with half the terrors of a dying guilty conscience. 
 Oh the deep agony of the moment, when the 
 foreboding anguish thrilled my soul that death 
 was near me ! A horrible darkness overshadowed 
 my soul, and I seemed lost in a sea of night. 
 Intense pain racked my body, but the agony of 
 my mind was greater. The time must have been 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
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 1 ^> 
 I '' 
 
 I -L 
 
 N 
 
 ^1' 
 
 170 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 very short, but to me it seemed ages, all my 
 sins rising before me like demons of darkness 
 torturing my soul ere its flight. In my mind 
 there was no remembrance of the good I had 
 done ; only the evil haunted me. Strange, too,, 
 that I did not think of Alice ! It was my 
 mother I thought of in my last agony. I seemed 
 to see her smiling on me from a place of light, 
 but hell-hounds seemed to drag me from her 
 into outer darkness, where there was wailing 
 and weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 Could this be hell? I asked myself; and 
 was I doomed to sufifer the torments of the 
 damned ? All the people I had ever wronged 
 came to haunt me in my agony, their cries 
 making it all the more hideous. Deeper, deeper 
 grew the darkness ; thicker, thicker grew the 
 mist ; loud voices shouted around me, till my 
 spirit felt faint with terror. 
 
 Was this eternal life — this awful anguish ? 
 Was this the life I had been looking forward 
 to } Where was the Christ who had promised 
 to save sinners } Where was Alice } Surely 
 my love was strong enough to draw her to 
 me ! 
 
 •' O Christ ! " I prayed, " have mercy on me ; 
 into Thy hands I commend my spirit." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 lyr 
 
 As I said the words, the terror vanished : the 
 darkness gradually disappeared, and I seemed 
 to see the face of Christ beaming on me. 
 
 A loud noise startled me back to lift. The 
 timbers of the bridge had given way, falling on 
 the struggling mass of wounded people, dealing 
 death and destruction all around. Something 
 heavy struck me; and, with one last thrill of 
 mortal agony I was numbered w.th the dead.* 
 
 For a long time after, I seemed lying in a 
 sleep. My first sensation was like that of a 
 tired man, awakened from a deep sleep. My 
 spirit was weary with the struggle it had under- 
 gone, and was quietly gaining strength. I found 
 myself reclining on what appeared to be a fleecy 
 cloud. 
 
 All seemed natural to me. I did not feel at 
 all strange, though apparently suspended 
 between heaven and earth. Other inhabitants 
 of the air were f oating around me, and I found 
 that I could float any distance at will. From 
 beneath me, 1 could see a long, long distance. 
 The world looked very small to mc, and I began 
 floating downward to view it closer. 
 
 • The appalling accident, here so vividly des .ibed, which 
 occurred at White River Junction early in the morning of the 
 5th February, 1887, """st be fresh in ihe recollection of every- 
 one. 
 
 •I 1 
 
 id?! 
 
172 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 IH 
 
 When my spirit passed away, it must have 
 floated, or been carried, to the cloud whereon 1 
 rested, where it must have lain dormant ; for, 
 as I approached the earth, I found the sun had 
 already risen. 
 
 The first thing that greeted my vision was the 
 scene of the accident; other spirits were crowd- 
 ing around, and I mingled with them. I now 
 saw that it had been caused by a broken rail. 
 The rear sleeper had fallen over the embank- 
 ment, carrying with it the passenger coaches, 
 containing upwards of eighty-four persons. 
 Many of them told me, in the spirit-world, that 
 they had died before reaching the bottom of the 
 embankment. A bystander remarked that the 
 time from the accident to the falling of the 
 bridge was about fifteen minutes. This was the 
 time of my agony ; but how long it had seemed 
 to me ! Even then I could not recall it with- 
 out a shudder. 
 
 1 looked for some trace of my mangled 
 body, but it was not visible ; it was no doubt 
 charred and disfigured beyond recognition. It 
 was not very comforting to reflect on. My 
 friends would not know what had become of 
 me ; and my father would not even know that 
 1 was dead. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 »73 
 
 As I thought of this, I determined to go and 
 try to make known to him that I had passed 
 from earth. I accordingly began ascending 
 from the dreary scene of death, and I floated 
 with quick motion over land and sea. It was 
 delightful — this easy floating through space. I 
 would not wish for any other existence ; yet, at 
 the same time, I wondered where heaven was. 
 Strange too, that I no longer longed for Alice ! 
 All earthly passions had vanished. I felt all- 
 sufficient in myself. Numbers of spirits, in bands, 
 passed me, all seemingly intent on some mission. 
 Now and then I beheld a solitary form like my 
 C -1. I reached England. I found that my 
 father lived in the West. I had not.' ig to 
 guide me save instinct, which is very po verful 
 in spirit life. I found that I had pov cr to 
 inspect the dwellings over which I passed. All 
 spirits do not possess this power. Many ac juire 
 it after long years, but I found that I poss< ssed 
 it from the first. 
 
 And people called this death ! To me it was 
 a life of bliss. So, farewell, all earthly lab^ ur! 
 farewell, all earthly care ! never more will ,'ou 
 annoy me ; yet from the height of Brig tcr 
 Spheres will I view your progress, O wo Id ! 
 

 
 »74 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 Though you look so small and insignificant from 
 where I am, still I remember that I once mingled 
 in your scenes — once shared your sorrows and 
 your joys. Now, O world ! I look cahnly back 
 to that time and say : 
 
 " ' O death, where is thy sting r O grave, 
 where is thy victory ? ' " 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 175 
 
 •IfH i 
 
 m 
 
 Vii 
 
 THE SPIRIT WORLD. 
 
 It was night on the shores of England — a clear, 
 still night. I found my father's house — a rich 
 mansion, a-blaze with lights and crowded with 
 guests. Mrs, Rogers was evidently holding a re- 
 ception. I looked in vain for my father in the 
 crowded rooms. He was not there, but something 
 drew me onward to the conservatory at the rear of 
 the house. There, seated on a low seat, slKulcd 
 by the large tropical plants, was my father- 
 alone and cheerless-looking. He a[)p(.\ircd to 
 have fallen into a light slumber; and as 1 drew 
 nearer, I perceived that he was watched over by 
 the spirit of a woman— a being with a pure.md 
 beaming countenance — who gently stroked his 
 care-worn face. I wondered that he could not 
 feel that touch ; once h<c stirred uneasily m his 
 slumber — he was dreaming. 
 
 I felt strangely attractfxi b\' the face of the 
 
 \ 
 
 woman, who look; 
 
 U nJer in her lovinsr 
 
¥ 
 
 H', 
 
 176 
 
 JiRICIITl.R SPHERES, 
 
 care. She raised her head, and our lyes met in 
 one fond glance of recognition. Oh, the un- 
 utterable joy of the moment, when, in spirit 
 life, I first beheld my mother ! She knew me 
 at once ; the change of years cannot hide a child 
 from a mother's heart. *' My boy ! " she said, 
 " I have been waiting for you here ; I knew that 
 you would come." 
 
 •* Now," I said, " I understand what instinct 
 drew me here ; you were waiting for me," 
 
 " Yes," she answered ; " but come, let us go 
 hence. Your father sleeps." 
 
 " Poor man ! " I said, " he does not look 
 happy." 
 
 "Come closer," she said, "and read his 
 thoughts." 
 
 1 placed my head close to his, and found that 
 I could distinctly read his very thoughts ; he 
 was dreaming of his youth. 
 
 ** We will come back to him again," my 
 mother said. " You have yet to view the 
 wonders of this life." 
 
 '* But where is heaven, motlier ? " I asked her, 
 as together we floated upwards. 
 
 " Heaven, my son," she answered, " is so vast, 
 so beautiful, so grand, it will take you a long 
 time to reach it." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 177 
 
 I: 
 
 We travelled a great distance upwards, far 
 beyond the " limits of space." The air around us 
 seemed to grow radiant with light, while strains 
 of sweet music were wafted from the disM'Hc. 
 Spirits with beaming faces smiled on us as lie/ 
 passed. 
 
 I felt strangely happy : my spirit s cm -d 
 animated with fresh energy: I retained . i' :.iy 
 mental faculties, and my memory was 1 :uch 
 clearer than it had ever been. We rcaclic 1 a 
 place that seemed made of golden clouc;. ; it 
 was from this place that the music floated. 
 Spirit forms were hovering near, as if anxious 
 to enter this plac<; of light; some tried to enter, 
 but were sent back. 
 
 "How is this.-* "I asked my mother, "Why 
 are they sent back ? " 
 
 " They are not good enough," she answered, 
 "This is a high sphere where only those \\\\o 
 have done penance for their sins can enter. All 
 are pure and spotless who dwell therein." 
 
 ** This is not heaven, then ? " * queried. 
 
 '* No," she said, " what is called heaven, is the 
 highest sphere of all. You will have to go 
 through many before you are considered worthy 
 
 12 
 
I''> 
 
 111 
 
 178 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 to enter it ; for there is found the perfection of 
 spirit life." 
 
 " But how can they tell here," I asked, 
 ** whether spirits are worthy or not ? " 
 
 " Oh ! my son," she said, " there are pure and 
 noble spirits in charge who are much wiser than 
 we are. They are i»ppointed by God to be the 
 guardian angels of men. They are familiar with 
 our good deeds and our bad. If the bad deeds 
 overbalance the good, we could not enter until 
 the good were in the ascendancy. We are 
 judged, not so much by the bad we have done 
 as by the good ; for * the good tree bringeth 
 forth good fruit.' " 
 
 " Then a man can atone, in this life, for the 
 crimes committed on earth } " 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " there are many ways 
 of atonement, until gradually the stain of guilt 
 disappears and the spirit is pure enough to 
 enter a higher sphere. But follow me, we will 
 go in." 
 
 I floated after her into the City of Light, 
 whose radiance dazzled me. It was lighted with 
 numerous suns, whose brilliant rays were re- 
 flected on the jasper pavement, and on the build- 
 ings, which seemed composed of a substance 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 179 
 
 like marble and gold. We entered a fragrant 
 garden, furnished with shady retreats. It was 
 a pure and peaceful atmosphere, and already 
 my spirit was glorified by the purity of the air 
 around me. Such must be the atmosphere 
 where so many holy beings live immortalized, 
 
 I entered a cool retreat and watched them as 
 they passed — those celestial people. They were 
 clothed in garments of white, and their faces 
 shone with holiness and love. I saw the form 
 of a woman advancing towards me. She seemed 
 so pure and holy that other spirits bowed low 
 before her as she passed ; because she had 
 descended from a higher sphere. 
 
 As she neared me I felt as if I must fall 
 down and worship her — she was so bright and 
 lovely. But she smiled on me, and I recognized 
 her ; it was Alice, shining in immortality. 
 
 I rushed to greet her, but she drew back : 
 "I am not first; here is one who las long 
 waited for this meeting." I looked and beheld 
 another form, less lovely ; it was Maud — my 
 wife — beaming on me with looks of love and 
 forgiveness. 
 
 It was a joyful meeting. Earthly mortals 
 Jiave no idea of the bliss experienced in brighter 
 spheres. 
 
 \\ 
 
 T 'I 
 

 H! 
 
 I- 
 
 i8o 
 
 URIGIl y 7. A' SPlfEKES. 
 
 
 ! 1 
 
 We conversed together for a long Hme^ 
 Other friends crowded around to welcome me,, 
 among whom were Mr. Austin and other friends 
 of my village home. Here, too, I met relatives 
 I had never known. Merc the bond of rela- 
 tionship is strong ; all love each other — rank 
 makes no distinction. 
 
 "We will leave you now," my mother said, 
 "you need some rest." 
 
 " Why must you leave me so soon ? " I asked. 
 
 " We belong to a higher sphere," Maud ex- 
 plained ; ** you must remember that we are long 
 residents here. After a length of time spent 
 here the spirit becomes very pure. Do you 
 know that from the other spheres we can watch 
 over you, just as from this one you can behold 
 what is passing on earth. Look! 
 
 I peered over what seemed a deep cliff or 
 ravine, where vapory clouds ascended, and I 
 could distinctly see the world revolving beneath 
 me like a huge globe, its different countries 
 visible, and a portion of it wholly uninhabited. 
 The other planets were more beautiful than the 
 world I had lived on ; they were all inhabited. 
 He who created them had a double purpose in 
 
 view. 
 
PKIGIITER SPHERES, 
 
 tSl 
 
 Bands of spirits now came floating upwards 
 from those planets and the earth ; some of them 
 with written records of what they had seen 
 — the crimes and sins of men, which were 
 numerous. 
 
 " Do you know anything of Rose ? " I asked 
 Alice. " Jt would spoil my joy if I thought she 
 was unhappy." 
 
 " No," Alice replied, " she is happy, but she 
 is now atoning for many sinful hours spent on 
 earth. She is called a Spirit of Mercy ; and is 
 ever on the earth trying to do good for the sons 
 of men." 
 
 My friends now left me, and I rested ; for I 
 was somewhat dazed by the wonders I had 
 beheld. It was a world of peace and beauty, 
 where divine grace dwelt undisturbed by sin. 
 The inhabitants were all shining with joy — no 
 sadness or sorrow anywhere. 
 
 Other joys awaited me after my rest. I was 
 able to wander at will — sometimes in company 
 with Maud or Alice — through the other planets, 
 whose beauty amazed me. 
 
 In this way some months must have passed, 
 but to me they were like so many hours. The 
 years here are like days. As yet I have not 
 
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 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 beheld half the glory of God's dominions ; for 
 "in the Father's house are many mansions." 
 He dwells in the highest heavens, and rules the 
 spirit world. Only the purest and holiest spirits 
 dwell in His presence. These seldom visit the 
 earth — only on some particular mission. When 
 God commands, they obey. 
 
 There are many kinds of spirits. Some are 
 Spirits of Mercy sent by God to the earth to 
 relieve the over-burdened sinner when he cries 
 for divine help. Then, there are Spirits of Love 
 and Charity direct from God, filling the hearts 
 of the righteous with love for their fellow- 
 creatures, and eternal love for the Father of 
 Mercies. 
 
 The Spirits of Purity hover around the young 
 and innocent, protecting them from the evil 
 spirits that are ever on the earth. 
 
 There are also Spirits of Hope, who descend 
 on earth to cheer the despairing sinner, and 
 whisper to him of the eternal life awaiting him. 
 
 The Spirits of Faith hover in the churches> 
 softly breathing of the divine love that never 
 fails. 
 
 Spirits of Grace are ever with the good. I 
 have seen a minister preaching under the con- 
 
BRIGHTER SPHEREi\ 
 
 i»3 
 
 trol of seven spirits, each whispering a heavenly 
 thought. 
 
 When a man commits a great crime, good 
 spirits forsake him. They are not allowed to 
 associate too closely with evil — except Spirits 
 of Mercy, who are ever striving to bring the 
 sinner to repentance. 
 
 There are also Spirits of Death, whose task is 
 very hard. If a good man commits a crime 
 and dies in a state of sin, he first goes through 
 a certain amount of punishment; then he is 
 made a Spirit of Death until such time as he is 
 pure enough to enter a higher sphere. Their 
 name is legion — those Spirits of Death — each 
 working a mission. 
 
 . Spirits often go in bands : thus Love accom- 
 panies Charity ; Mercy, Hope ; Faith and Peace 
 go with Death. All is order and spiritual law. 
 
 Millions upon millions have their different 
 missions. There are many without a mission- 
 good people, such as Alice, who rest and reap 
 their reward ; for their work was good on earth. 
 A wealthy man, who has lived a life of ease 
 may be a member of a church, and call himself 
 a Christian, but that alone does not please God ; 
 He wants His servants to work in His canse. 
 
 !! 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 II 
 
 
I 
 
 184 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 If it is not done on earth, they will have to 
 work in spirit life. How much better then it 
 would be to accomplish good on earth ! God 
 does not create a soul without a purpose ; He 
 marks out for each a mission, which, if not 
 fulfilled on earth, must be done here ! 
 
 There are many here who have occupied a 
 lofty station in life, caring naught for their 
 fellow-creatures; yet now they go about, un- 
 seen, among the poverty-stricken on earth, 
 helping them, putting thoughts into their minds 
 of how to win eternal life. Sometimes men 
 listen to these spirit voices and do not obey. 
 This is wrong. If some instinct warns you to 
 do a good deed, be sure a good spirit is near 
 you. Life is sometimes saved in this way. 
 God is not ready to claim it, and sends a spirit 
 who whispers " do this, or that ; " and by obey- 
 ing, you will soon find that if you had done 
 otherwise something serious would have hap- 
 pened. 
 
 There are Guardian Spirits, or Angels, more 
 commonly called. When a child is born the 
 pure spirit of a child is taught to watch over it, 
 and as the child grows, the spirit expands and 
 guides it to the end. Yet Guardian Angels are 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 185 
 
 hot always on earth. They remain for long 
 periods in brighter spheres, but they send Spirits 
 of Love, Mercy, Hope and Peace to those they 
 guard. Sin and crime displease these Spirits, 
 because it displeases God. 
 
 Sin is always punished — to what extent I am 
 not at liberty to say. Some day you will know 
 all. That which seems so incomprehensible 
 now will all be understood, when, through the 
 portals of death, you enter brighter spheres. 
 
 When sinners are heavily punished with deep 
 afflictions on earth, their sufferings are lessened 
 here. O sons of men ! could you but know the 
 eternal glory and perpetual joy that here await 
 you, then would you forsake the path of sin and 
 live as you would die, in love and fellowship 
 with each other ; for here all is love — earthly 
 passions are no more. A man beholds his 
 mother, wife, sister, but feels they are not 
 necessary to his happiness. We all know and 
 love each other. 
 
 If a man of a drunken, quarrelsome disposition 
 dies, he cannot enter the higher spheres until 
 his spirit is purified of all evil qualities ; for with 
 us all is peace. It is that '* peace which passeth 
 all understanding/' and which can never be ex- 
 
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 186 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 perienced on earth, for there the angry discord 
 and sinful strife would mar its beauty. 
 
 Many spirits are ever near their loved ones 
 on earth ; they can become an influence for good 
 or evil, according to the life led on earth. 
 
 There are many unhappy spirits who are 
 waiting till the time of pardon — then they may 
 rest in the higher spheres. 
 
 A long time ago there lived a lady of rank, 
 who called herself a Christian. She had a large 
 family of sons, for whose sake she became 
 ambitious. She oppressed the poor ; she became 
 a very miser for wealth and social honors ; she 
 forgot her God and made wealth her idol. Soon 
 there came a dark hour of pain, and Death 
 called ; but she rebelled against the divine will, 
 and called God cruel to take her from earth 
 where her treasure was. When her spirit 
 emerged from the mists, she stood at the Pearly 
 Gates — a faltering spirit, awed by the glory 
 around her. 
 
 " Why do you linger ? " some spirit asked 
 her. 
 
 " I do not want heaven," she murmured ; " it 
 would not be heaven to me, apart from those I 
 love." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 187 
 
 Back she floated to her home, and lingered 
 there — a silent, mournful spectre. Soon another 
 wife took her vacant place ; and, in anguish, she 
 beheld her children neglected, and her wealth 
 squandered in a reckless way. As the years 
 passed, her spirit wandered from place to place. 
 Her boys became wild, and were followed by 
 evil spirits. Oh, the anguish of that mother, 
 as she saw her loved ones in sin and crime ! 
 This was her punishment ; it was a heavy one. 
 
 The pitying Saviour saw her misery, and was 
 touched with compassion. He sent bright 
 Spirits of Mercy to bear her to the realms of 
 the blessed. There her wounded soul received 
 peace. In time she became a Spirit of Mercy, 
 and she again descended to earth. Her home 
 was deserted, and her children scattered on the 
 face of the earth. But nothing could hide them 
 from a mother. She sought them out, and 
 gently touched their sinful hearts with thoughts 
 of childhood and mother. She had become so 
 pure, so bright, from her residence in brighter 
 spheres, that all evil spirits fled from before her. 
 Her boys hearkened to her spirit voice, and 
 repentance stole over them. No more they 
 sinned, but, guided by her spirit, they lived to- 
 
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 |8i$ 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 become noble men. Now they enjoy the glory 
 of spirit life, saved by a mother's love. Such 
 things as this are happening every day. 
 
 I have told the foregoing to show that sin 
 and crime pain your loved ones who have gone 
 before. Think of that, criminals, when you are 
 inclined to sin. If you have a loved one in the 
 spirit world, be sure that your crime will cause 
 her pain. It is never too late to repent ; and 
 when your spirit shall enter this wondrous world, 
 you will see that your reward is great; for it 
 is written : " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
 neither have entered into the heart of man, the 
 things which God hath prepared for them that 
 love him." i Cor. ii. 9. 
 
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 ■■li' 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 i8s^ 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SCENES I BEHOLD. 
 
 It is night in a large city, and a cold rain is fall- 
 ing. The autumn winds howl through the barren 
 tree-tops and scatter the withered leaves in all 
 directions. I hover near the poorest part of the 
 city, where angry voices and deep curses reach 
 me, as the night wind bears them heavenward, 
 where they are recorded in the book of life ; for 
 not an idle word or thought falls unnoticed. 
 
 In a dark, squalid street in this portion of the 
 town there stands a row of dark, dirty houses- 
 It is a place teeming with poverty and vice^ 
 Many evil spirits are lurking m the shadows, 
 but I notice several Spirits of Light enter one of 
 those dwellings, and I follow them. I see a 
 scantily furnished room and signs of extreme 
 poverty. A dim light is burning, throwing faint 
 shadows on the narrow walls. Two pale, sickly 
 children are crying around a low old-fashioned 
 bed, on which lies the body of a man, whose 
 
■ami 
 
 490 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 pale countenance, marked with death, wears a 
 resigned expression. Closely over him, and 
 drawing every moment nearer, is a Spirit of 
 Death, sent to call him to eternity. Kneeling 
 beside the bed is the figure of a woman, yet 
 young and beautiful ; a dark look of grief 
 is now on her face, for it is her husband — the 
 love and support of her life — who is so slowly, 
 but surely, dying. Spirits of Peace and Hope 
 linger beside her, and I watch the scene with 
 deep interest. The silence is broken by the 
 weak voice of the dying man, as his gaze 
 wanders wildly around. " Weep not," he says, 
 " I will soon be free from pain ; already the 
 dark waters are closing over me, and I can feel 
 the icy chill of death." Closer the loving wife 
 bends over him, hiding her own sorrows as she 
 clasps his hand. 
 
 " Have you any fear } " she asks. " Shall I 
 pray?" 
 
 " I have no fear," he replies. " I know not 
 what awaits me ; but all my life I have trusted 
 in God, and I can trust Him in death." 
 
 Sweetly she bends over him and repeats 
 *' The Lord is my Shepherd." Spirits of Mercy 
 and Hope crowd around her and strengthen 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 191 
 
 her soul. A smile of joy crosses the dying 
 man's features. Gently the Spirit of Death 
 breathes on him ; and, without a struggle, his 
 spirit comes forth, glorious and immortal. 
 Bright Angels of Light now enter and bear him 
 upwards, through the darkening clouds, to the 
 eternal rest he has won. 
 
 I linger with some other spirits beside the 
 lonely watcher, left desolate. There is no loud 
 outcry, no useless grief. She kneels for a while 
 in silent prayer, the white hands crossed meekly 
 over the lonely heart, the head humbly bowed, 
 as she murmurs : " Thy will be done." There is 
 a sob as she clasps her weeping children. 
 " Hush ! " she says. ** He is not dead — there is 
 310 death ; he is but gone before." 
 
 O loving faith! O gentle soul! thou hast 
 not seen ; thou hast no proof of eternal life ; but 
 Christ has said : " Blessed are they who believe, 
 yet have not seen." 
 
 Kind friends helped the widow and orphans. 
 She never became rich, but she possesses that 
 which wealth cannot buy — a Christian heart, 
 and God's blessing rests with her always. 
 
 The dawn is breaking as I float away to the 
 western portion of the city. Lofty mansions 
 
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 1 1 
 
 I, 
 
 i 1 
 
 192 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 now greet my view — houses of splendor and 
 wealth. I enter one of those wealthy mansions. 
 I behold a room — a perfect bower of beauty — 
 filled with all that money can buy ; but no bright 
 spirits hover near — only one Guardian Angel, 
 and she looks weary and sad. On the soft, tiny 
 bed a little child is dying, a sweet, innocent child 
 such as God loves. But no one has ever taught 
 her of God ; she knows nothing of Him and 
 His eternal home, for her parents are atheists. 
 She shrinks appalled from the touch of death ; 
 she has never heard that there is anything 
 beyond the grave, and to her childish mind all 
 is dark and cruel. 
 
 Lovingly the Guardian Angel encircles her, 
 keeping back the evil spirits who are in the room. 
 
 " She is mine," called out a Spirit of Darkness, 
 as it tried to reach her. 
 
 " Begone! " the Guardian Angel replied ; " if 
 she has sinned, on her parent's head rests the 
 blame ; for Christ has said : ' Suffer little children 
 to come unto Me.' " 
 
 The evil spirit drew back, conquered, and a 
 Spirit of Love floated, radiant, before the child. 
 
 " Mamma," she cried, " what is that ? I see 
 something all light, and it looks lovely." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 193 
 
 "It is nothing," the mother replied; "there 
 is no one here but your father." 
 
 "Tell him to hold me," the child pleaded; 
 *' I am afraid to die." 
 
 The father raises her in his arms. "You 
 will soon fall asleep," he said, "and forget your 
 pain." 
 
 " But I am not sleepy — the room is full of 
 light," she answered faintly, "and I hear nice 
 music. Who are those people i.: white, with 
 such lovely faces? Will they take me with 
 them ? '* 
 
 ''Tix^Y are fancies, my child," \he, father 
 answered ; "you have been dreaming." 
 
 " No, no, papa, perhaps they are the angels 
 nurse was speaking about." 
 
 "There are no angels, my child," the father 
 said ; and, as he spoke, her face grew dark with 
 fear. 
 
 " Oh ! " she sobbed, " if there were angels I ' 
 should not be afraid ; it would not seem so 
 dark and cold, and they would take care of me.'* 
 In vain the heart-broken parents tried to ease 
 her dying hour. They could not comfort her 
 as to the future, for they did not believe in 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 any ; yet childish instinct whispered to their 
 darling of another life. 
 
 " Father, the pain is gone," she murmured, 
 " and a lovely lady is going to take me in her 
 arms." 
 
 Her eyes closed and a happy smile lingered 
 on her features. The Angel of Death loosened 
 her spirit, and, with a glad cry, I beheld her, 
 smiling in her innocence, as she floated past me 
 to a Sphere of Light. 
 
 " She sleeps," the mother said ; but the father 
 knows that she is dead, and gently lays her 
 down. 
 
 A costly funeral is provided, and the frail, 
 golden-haired darling is thought of as no more. 
 They can never picture her in her heavenly 
 home ; never know that she sometimes stands 
 in their very midst, laying her tiny hands on 
 their darkened hearts — for she would tell them 
 of the glory of her ever-wondering life, where 
 there is no more sin or death. 
 
 How many people there are who will not 
 believe in a future existence! Nothing will 
 convince them. Look around you, O doubting 
 soul, and see that nothing ever dies! The 
 flowers that fade to-day will blossom out again 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 »9S 
 
 in spring time. The leaves that wither and die 
 will soon be replaced by fresh ones. And so it 
 is with the soul : the outward covering will fade 
 and die, but the soul itself lives on in a brighter 
 life. 
 
 Man is not judged by his religion. There 
 are many Christians who profess to serve God, 
 yet, when they enter the Spirit World, they find 
 they have done nothing for Him. Those who 
 would he nearest God in the Spirit World must 
 be nearest Him on earth. They must follow in 
 the footsteps of His Son, Christ — humble, meek, 
 patient Christ — who chose for His friends poor, 
 humble fishermen. 
 
 Christians, be not proud ; think not your- 
 selves one above the other ; but love your 
 neighbor, however bad, however lost ! Remem- 
 ber only that a soul exists which God loves. 
 Above all be practical Christians. In days of 
 old, Christ said, *' Feed my sheep, feed my 
 lambs ; " and there are many of His flock in the 
 by-ways and hedges of life, waiting for help. 
 There is work for those willing ; and inasmuch 
 as they do it for one of the least of Christ's 
 brethren, they will have done it unto Him, 
 
 Every day I see many instances of man's 
 
 
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 1 1 
 
 196 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 inhumanity to man. This defect in human 
 nature helps to darken man's existence. I have 
 seen a man break a woman's heart, and bring- a 
 parent's grey hairs in sorrow to the grave ; yet 
 he was rccci. cd in the best society. But let a 
 man practice Christianity, and the world sneers. 
 Blessed arc you when men revile you for Christ's 
 sake, for your reward is at hand ! 
 
 One dark night I went with Alice on her 
 visiting the earth in answer to some appeal for 
 help. We entered the poor district of a large 
 city. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " I asked her, awed 
 by the look of glory on her countenance. 
 
 " I am going on the Master's service," she 
 answered. We floated into a humble dwelling. 
 I beheld a tired mother trying to hush the low 
 wailing of a sick child. On a narrow bed lay 
 the sleeping form of a man ; while beside him 
 stood a boy, who, I noticed, was trying ta 
 conquer temptation. 
 
 " I have come to save that boy," Alice 
 whispered. I looked and saw a dark spirit 
 stoop over the boy, who turned impatiently \x> 
 his mother. 
 
 " I can't stand this," he said ; " I will find 
 relief, if I have to steal." 
 
BRIGirrER SPHERES. ,97 
 
 ** Hush ! " the mother said, " can you not have 
 patience ? The Lord will provide." 
 
 Again the Spirit of Evil came forward ; but 
 this time I noticed that Alice stood between 
 him and the boy, who had moved towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Don't be anxious, mother," he said ; "since 
 you believe it sinful to steal, for your sake I 
 will beg." 
 
 He left the room, and we followed. " Come," 
 said Alice, " I have another scene to show you." 
 We entered the fashionable part of the city, 
 and floated into a lofty mansion. Here I saw 
 about twenty ladies and gentlemen, who were 
 evidently holding a meeting of some sort. One 
 gentleman was quoting Scripture, and another 
 was writing a subscription list for some dona- 
 tion ; and I noticed that many of them signed 
 for large sums of money, as their names would 
 be sure to figure in the next day's paper. The 
 meeting then broke up. Alice called me with 
 her, and we followed a party of them towards 
 their wealthy homes. On the corner of a public 
 street stood the boy whose troubles had inter- 
 ested me. Now, I thought, he will find help, 
 these people are charitable and will assist him. 
 
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 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
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 The first couple passed on without seeming ta 
 hear him ; but the others paused to listen to his 
 sad tale, and one lady drew out her well-filled 
 purse. 
 
 " Stop ! " said the man who had been quoting 
 Scripture, " I would like to investigate this 
 matter ; there are so many of this class of people 
 in the city. See here, my boy ! " he added, 
 " to-morrow I will find out if your tale is true ; 
 if so, we will help you." And they passed on, 
 while the boy gave a weary sigh as he mur- 
 mured, "to-morrow may be too late." 
 
 At that moment there came along an aged 
 man and a young girl ; they were poorly clad, 
 and appeared to be humble people. The girl 
 paused as she saw the boy in his lonely 
 attitude. 
 
 " What is wrong .'* " she asked ; " are you in 
 trouble .? " 
 
 '* Yes," replied a street urchin, who had over- 
 heard the boy's story ; " his pa is sick, and they 
 have no money to buy food." 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! " she said compassionately. 
 ** See, grandpa ! " she said to her companion, 
 *' I will do without my new dress, and give the 
 money to this boy," 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 199 
 
 The grandfather made no reply, but gave her 
 his purse. 
 
 " Here, h'ttle boy! "she said, "this is all the 
 money I have. If you tell me where you live, 
 I will go to-morrow and see your mother." 
 
 He took the proffered money, with tears of 
 gratitude, and the donor went smilingly on her 
 way. 
 
 "See," said Alice, "that is charity! The 
 first party were members of a leading church. 
 They give largely where their names will be 
 published to the world ; but that girl goes to 
 her humble home, glad that she has done good. 
 The world may never know of it j but God has 
 seen the act, and in after years it shall be 
 returned unto her in many ways." 
 
 " Give, and it shall be given unto you ; good 
 measure, pressed down, and shaken together, 
 and running over, shall men ^xmq into your 
 bosom. For with the same measure that ye 
 mete withal it shall be measured to you again." 
 — St. Luke vi. 38. 
 
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200 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 r 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MY MISSION. 
 
 I AM standing in a garden of Paradise. It is a 
 lovely spot, such as Eden must have been ; only 
 here no sin can enter to mar its peace and 
 beauty. From above me the bright-hued 
 radiance of a celestial sun is beaming on the 
 scene of glory. Strains of heavenly music are 
 wafted to me on the perfumed air, and I behold 
 bright-robed messengers, as they descend earth- 
 ward with direct blessings from the higher 
 spheres. In my hand is a parchment, containing 
 a written command as fpUows : — 
 
 '* Go FORTH, O Soul of Purity and Peace : 
 
 DESCEND to THAT SIN- BOUND REGION CALLED 
 
 Earth, and seek out Atheists and Un- 
 believers, AND ALL WHO BELIEVE NOT IN 
 
 Eternal Life, and v^ihsper to them of 
 God and Love. Perchance they will listen 
 to thy Spirit voice. Thou hast dwelt in 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 201 
 
 THE REGIONS OF THE BlESSKD, AND DIDST 
 PARTAKE OF THEIR GlORY. MaV ITS RADIANCE 
 
 FOLLOW THEE! And He who MA1>E TUY 
 SOUL WILL BLESS THEE WITH SUCCESS." 
 
 I folded the parchment, and, leaving my 
 heavenly home, floated towards the scene of 
 my mission. 
 
 While I lived on earth, I had known many 
 Atheists, but now T found they were more 
 numerous than I imagined. How could I reach 
 their darkened souls } They were a great cause 
 of sadness in Brighter Spheres. God is so great 
 and good that the very doubt of His existence 
 is the cause of pain to those wiser, who behold 
 the dull, joyless lives of Atheists. I, who had 
 been an unbeliever, could pity them. 
 
 I have hovered in the tents of the savage, 
 amid the wilds of the forest : I have wandered 
 among the wilds of Africa ; but I have seen none 
 so worthy of pity as he who, notwithstanding 
 modern education and mental culture, can say 
 " There is no God." 
 
 I drew near to America— my native land— 
 and brooded over it in silence. It was flourish- 
 ing and improving, yet everywhere were sin 
 
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202 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 
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 and evil ; and my spirit grew sad as I thought 
 of my mission. 
 
 ** O city of my birth ! " I cried, " can I not 
 save thee ? Shall I wander amid the old scenes, 
 unnoticed ? Shall I stand in your very midst, 
 
 people, and you see me not ? In vain shall 
 
 1 proclaim to you there is a God — you Caiinot 
 hear me ; and if perchance I lay my spirit hands 
 upon your sin-stained hearts, you will not feel 
 their touch ! " 
 
 As I stood there, sadly musing, Alice joined 
 me, and I told her ol my mission, • 
 
 "You think it hard," she answered, " but 
 others will help you ; and I fondly hop*'; that 
 you will do some good." 
 
 At that moment the spirit-form of a vvoman 
 stood beside us. She was very beautiful, and 
 I looked at her in wonder as she smiled on me. 
 
 " Don't you know her ? " Alice asked. " It 
 is Rose ! " And so it was — more beautiful than 
 in life — more lovely than I had ever known her. 
 A pure, holy look softened her face ; no trace 
 remained of earthly passions. So changed was 
 she that I should not have known her. 
 
 " Come," she said, " I will help you ; together,, 
 we will work some good." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 203 
 
 And so I began my mission. I hovered in 
 the home of the unbeh'ever : I attended meet- 
 ings held by Atheists ; and those men in their 
 darkened souls felt an influence for good which 
 they could not explain. But, alas ! it did not 
 last long. Worldly cares and evil spirits soon 
 banished all recollection of the good. 
 
 " It is all in vain," I thought ; " I can never 
 accomplish any good." 
 
 One dark, wet night I lingered in a crowded 
 city, seeking those who needed help. Evil 
 spirits were on the alert, and crime, poverty 
 and vice were all around. 
 
 " I wonder why it is," I thought, " that those 
 evil spirits are so powerful ! " 
 
 They are all the souls of those who have led 
 bad lives ; those who, when on earth, were pos- 
 sessed of an evil nature— a nature that changed 
 not, nor repented. Death may have appalled, 
 but not changed it. He who lives a life 
 of crime, with no desire to change it, passes into 
 the spirit-world retaining all his evil propensities. 
 Here a chance of repentance is held out to save 
 him, but he will not accept it ; he is content 
 rather to wander on the earth, leading better 
 men astray. Sometimes the spirits of good 
 
 111 
 
 ii. I 
 
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 204 
 
 FyRIGIlTER SPHERES. 
 
 succeed in leading some of these evil ones to a 
 better life. 
 
 Wandering through the city, I beheld many 
 scenes of crime, many wretched lives. You who 
 dwell in wealth have no conception of the misery 
 among the poverty-stricken inhabitants of a 
 vast city — and where there is so much misery, 
 crime easily steps in ; yet a kindly-spoken word, 
 a helping hand, might arrest it. " Cast thy 
 bread upon the waters, and it shall return to 
 thee after many days." 
 
 Nor is charity to the poor the only way. 
 There are many of the rich in need of charity 
 — charity to be patient with their faults, charity 
 not to envy them. This is the hardest charity. 
 It is very easy for a rich man to help a poor 
 man ; but the poor man will find it hard to 
 have charity for the rich. 
 
 While wandering through the streets in com- 
 pany with Rose, I felt suddenly drawn towards 
 the outskirts of the city. I followed instinct, 
 and came to a deserted looking house — a place 
 such as people call haunted. I entered the 
 dwelling with Rose, and beheld a number of 
 people seated around a small table. There 
 were many spirits in the room, and they seemed 
 
 I ) 
 
 M^ 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 205 
 
 hovering around the table. I noticed one lay- 
 ing his hands on it and it, moved in obedience 
 to his will. 
 
 " What docs this mean ? " I said to Rose. 
 ** What are they doing ? " 
 
 " They are spiritualists," she answered. " See ! 
 that boy is the medium. Draw closer and see 
 if you can understand the movement." 
 
 I did so, and saw that in some way the boy's 
 soul was responsive to those spirits, and they 
 gently gained power from him to move the 
 table ; and when he left the room they went 
 with him. This, I thought, would be a good 
 process for communicating with the sons of 
 men. 
 
 Every day after this I visited that house, but 
 found that, though the process would suit me, 
 I could not control the table. There was noth- 
 ing responsive in those people. Besides, they 
 were merely trying to gain information ; they 
 looked upon the movement as a species of 
 fortune-telling. The consequence was that the 
 spirits were of an inferior order, and the com- 
 munications inferior. 
 
 " This will never do," I thought. " I cannot 
 speak my commands to these people ; they 
 would not regard them in a proper light." 
 
 I [ 
 
-I i: 
 
 :2o6 BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 I determined to wait until such time as I 
 should find the right people to receive my work ; 
 for, I thought, in this way I might perhaps carry 
 out my mission. If I could only publish my 
 history to the world, people would see the 
 mistakes so often made. I talked it over with 
 Alice, and she agreed with me. 
 
 " Much good may result," she said, "if people 
 only know of this science." 
 
 " I will investigate it," I said ; " it must be 
 quite unknown as yet. I will endeavor to find 
 out the theory of the movement. Many grand 
 things may be the result." 
 
 1 first spoke about it to other spirits, and 
 found that many of them were familiar with the 
 process. It has existed since the beginning of 
 the world, but is only now coming into practice. 
 In olden days spirits frequently appeared, and 
 were seen. What happened then could surely 
 happen now, if God willed it. Indeed, spirits 
 sometimes appear at the scene of death — 
 especially in cases of murder or suicide ; or, 
 they are sometimes permitted to appear in 
 warning of some calamity. A man once told 
 me that during his life he held many conver- 
 sations, through this movement, with loved 
 ones gone before. 
 
 „NiI 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 207 
 
 I soon left America in the distance and turned 
 towards Canada, thinking that, amid the scenes 
 where I had found Christianity, I should find a 
 a way to fulfil my mission. 
 
 It was night in the City of Montreal. A quiet 
 stillness brooded over the land, and a gentle, 
 summer wind moved with a low, sighing 
 sound through the many branches of the trees. 
 
 In the suburbs of the city I encountered a 
 band of heavenly-looking spirits. I turned and 
 joint ri them. In the front of this band was the 
 form of a young girl. She was so bright and 
 fair to look upon, that I knew she had descended 
 from a high sphere. 
 
 *' Where are you going V I asked her. 
 
 " To a seance'' she replied. 
 
 A power draws us. Her manner inspired me 
 with confidence, and I told her of my mission. 
 
 " Come with us," she said, ** I know some one 
 worthy of your trust, it is my father. For 
 years," she went on to say, "he has studied 
 spiritualism, unmindful of the sneer^ and cen- 
 sures of the world. He has made it his religion, 
 and I think he of all others is the one for this 
 task." * 
 
 * Reference is here made to E. J. C, the writer of the Intro- 
 duction ; and the young girl, '* so bright and fair to look upon," 
 is his daughter, who passed away in 1878, at the age of fifteen; 
 
 I 
 
ff'' 
 
 
 m 
 
 208 
 
 BRIGHTER SPII^K 
 
 I went with her to the centre of the city. 
 We entered a house, and found a number of 
 persons seated around the small table used for 
 spiritualistic meetings. I waited while one of 
 the band controlled the table. The medium 
 was rather young and inexperienced in the 
 movement, but I found that I could control the 
 table for the purpose I had in view. I asked 
 them to write my history, and this work is the 
 result. I know not how the world will receive 
 it, but I trust that the God who has permitted 
 its production will bless it with success. Many 
 will doubt its truth. Others will regard it as 
 something supernatural ; and to them I answer 
 in the words of Christ : " Greater things shall 
 you see ; " but the hour is not yet come. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE USE AND ABUSE OF SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 Many people will not understand how this 
 work was produced. Spiritualism is as yet 
 comparatively unknown, though practiced ex- 
 tensively thropghout the United States.' I 
 regret to say that, where money is the object, 
 fraud is introduced. 
 
 A spiritist is one who believes in the return 
 of departed souls to the earth they lived on, and 
 in conversing-by the power of a medium— 
 with them. This is done by a soul-force which 
 links us with humanity. In life one often meets 
 with a person who starts some hidden gift 
 within the soul— a person who draws and at- 
 tracts till a bond exists between two souls that 
 only death seems to sever. This is a language 
 of the soul. So in the medium we find a soul 
 responsive to our own. No bodily strength is 
 needed, or mind power, as some persons tliink. 
 It is a force by which we can either control the 
 
 ]4 
 
12IO 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 
 ni 
 
 ': f 
 
 %. 
 
 medium or anything^ on which he lays his hand. 
 Thus, two or three people sit around a table — 
 one may be a medium ; if so, there will be some 
 spirit feel a force flowing from the medium, 
 which will impel and attract him ; then this 
 spirit can utilize the force, and the table becomes 
 obedient to his will. He need not touch the 
 table, but by his will can make it tilt. There are 
 also mediums who possess power to bring the 
 spirit to a materialized form, which can be seen 
 and recognized. These mediums are very rare ; 
 they need to be very pure and good, otherwise 
 evil spirits will cluster around. 
 
 There is nothing in spiritualism contrary to 
 Christianity. If properly used, it would prove 
 the existence of God, and waft the truth from 
 shore to shore. 
 
 Those who practice spiritualism should avoid 
 exercising their will on the table. Where a 
 number of persons are sitting, their united will 
 may cause the table to tilt and stop at the 
 required letters. This is not spiritualism.; it is 
 simply using mind over matter. In the true 
 movement the medium remains passive. The 
 spirit need not touch the table ; he may be far 
 away from it, but his will causes it to spell out 
 any sentence he may wish to communicate. 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 211 
 
 A medium is one who possesses a soul of 
 unusual power— a soul-force hard to analyze— 
 a subtle something which acts as a magnet in 
 the spirit world and draws us to the earth. 
 This power never dies ; it lives after the spirit 
 leaves the body. This is why spirits go about 
 m bands. The gentle spirit that led me here 
 possessed this power, which explains why I felt 
 so strangely drawn to follow the band who 
 clustered around her. 
 
 Much depends on the character of the me- 
 dium ; if of an indifferent disposition, the com- 
 munication will be of an inferior order; if of an 
 evil disposition, spiritualism becomes dangerous, 
 for then evil spirits will come. 
 
 I think that the Church of Rome believes in 
 spiritualism, though unconscious of the fact. 
 Wc read in the history of their saints of certain 
 apparitions and miracles. I believe that those 
 5o-called saints, by the self-sacrifice of their 
 lives, attained mediumistic power. 
 
 Those who read the Bible will find many 
 
 instances of this movement. We read of angels 
 
 in the tent of Abraham. I think all the 
 
 prophets possessed this power, which accounts 
 
 for their visions. Also, we read of other 
 
 if 
 
 1 1 
 
 r 
 
 \\ I' 
 
212 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 \\\ 
 
 v\ 
 
 !« 
 
 appearances, which can only be attributed to 
 spiritualism. I think it was practiced in olden 
 days ; then, it was called magic, or supernatural 
 agency. 
 
 The church teaches her children that at the 
 hour ofdeath they are sent direct to a heaven 
 of eternal rest, or to a hell of everlasting tor- 
 ment, according to the lives they have led. 
 This doctrine is pondered on, and thought of, 
 until gradually the mind revolts against it. 
 This accounts for so many Atheists, A man is 
 taught to look upon God as angry and unjust. 
 He is taught that for the sin within him he is 
 doomed ; and soon he tells himself that such 
 laws are unjust — no God could have created 
 millions of human souls to doom them forever. 
 "There is no God," he says to himself: this con- 
 viction grows upon him, and it may take years, 
 to convince him of the truth. 
 
 O man, how little is thy faith ! how un- 
 reasonable thy soul ! the God that made thee 
 will not lose thee from His sight. The dark- 
 ness of sin may obscure thee ; clouds of crime 
 may cover thee ; but ever watchful is the eye 
 of God, penetrating the mists, and blessing thee 
 in His mercy. If God was presented to the 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. j,- 
 
 world as He really is, so many would not 
 doubt Hfm ; He would be accepted and trusted, 
 for He is worthy of all trust, worthy of all love. 
 Many may wonder why Christ did not insti- 
 tute the subject of spiritualism, when on earth ; 
 but, as it is not necessary to salvation, and 
 as the world was then in its dark a-es it 
 would not have been understood. Even now it 
 IS put to improper use, and used as a species of 
 fortune-telling. This is wrong. God alone 
 holds the key of the future, and His agents are 
 not permitted to reveal it. If through this 
 movement you seek to find out the future, you 
 will surely receive false communications. God 
 alone is omniscient. .Spirits are w.^ser than 
 mortals, yet they do not know everything. 
 
 It is a grievous sin to practice fraud Tn this 
 movement; for it is no light subject to converse 
 with those who have passed the river of death 
 _ Should the spirit of some loved one, material- 
 ued stand in the midst of a family, appearing 
 >n all the unspotted purity of his celestial home 
 among the sinful dwellers of the earth, and 
 deliver to them some message of heavenly truth 
 would man then believe, I wonder > or would 
 he still doubt > Man is such an unreasonable 
 
I'l "«" 
 
 214 
 
 PyRIGIITER SPHERES, 
 
 creature ; he will not believe anything he cannot 
 understand. 
 
 Spiritualism is a divine gift of God, and 
 should not be misused. I would advise many 
 not to i)ractice it, as they are not good enough. 
 They try it for the mrre sake of gaining infor- 
 mation ; and when they fail in this they abuse 
 the movement, and say there is no truth in it. 
 Now, there are many spirits wandering around 
 who have led wicked lives. The evil is not yet 
 purified from their nature ; and when they get 
 a chance of conversing with men through diis 
 movement, they resort to all kinds of talk, 
 which injures the movement. 
 
 To those who do not wish to believe in 
 spiritualism, I would like to say that, if rightly 
 practiced, it would prove a blessing. There is 
 nothing unnatural in it ; it only proves St. 
 Pauls words ; for he says of the body : " It is 
 sown a natural body ; it is raised a spiritual 
 body ; there is a natural body, and there is a 
 spiritual body." Not only this, but it proves to 
 man the existence of immortal life. 
 
 I do not understand why the Church is so 
 against the movement. The only harm it can 
 do, is to confute the -doctrine of eternal punish- 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 215 
 
 ment, which has never done much good. If a 
 man is forced to do good through fear of hell, 
 instead of with the idea of pleasing God, he' 
 makes a very poor Christian. 
 
 Many will wonder at my contradiction of a 
 doctrine founded on the words of Christ— so 
 deeply misunderstood. Those who wish to 
 investigate the truth will find the words are 
 wrongly translated. There is punishment for 
 sin in the burning flames of a guilty conscience. 
 When a man looks back to earth and beholds 
 his descendants suffering for the sins he has 
 committed, how deep is the anguish that thrills 
 his mind— the innocent children made to bear 
 the burden of another's sin ; for the sins of the 
 father are visited on the children, unto the third 
 and fourth generation ! 
 
 Those who practice spiritualism should do so 
 in all harmony and peace, for the least discord 
 jars on the sensitive soul of the medium, and 
 weakens the force that draws us. Let united 
 love and harmony prevail, and the result will 
 be a bond of unity which draws us closer to 
 humanity. 
 
 To those who do not believe in the move- 
 ment I say : " Seek and you shall find for your- 
 
2l6 
 
 DRICIITER SI 'III-: RES. 
 
 
 self the truth." There is too much dissension 
 on earth for the truth to spread to many different 
 sects and creeds. 
 
 There are many who do not believe in the 
 Divinity of Christ. To those I say, HE IS 
 Divine. He is the purest, holiest spirit, after 
 God, and dwells with Him in the highest heavens. 
 I PROCLAIM IT IN A VOICE FROM THE UNSEEN 
 WORLD. He was " perfect God and perfect 
 man ; of a reasonable soul and human flesh 
 subsisting ; and as the soul and flesh were one 
 man, so God and man are one Christ." Those 
 who say otherwise have much to learn. 
 
 And the very Christ, despised on earth, is the 
 one we look to in spirit life. We hear His voice 
 speaking to those who have completed their 
 mission : " Enter, ye blessed, into the Kingdom 
 of my Father." 
 
 As for those who will not believe in Thee, O 
 patient Christ, fain would I echo thy sorrowful 
 words : ** Father, forgive them, for they know 
 not what they do." 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 217 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Many people have a theory that at the hour of 
 death they enter a place called heaven. Now 
 this heaven is supposed to exist beyond the 
 clouds, where golden harps and sweet music fill 
 the air with strains of melody ; and, once the 
 soul enters, there it remains for ever. 
 
 Now I would like to ask some of these people, 
 would they be content with such a life ? Would 
 it be heaven to them, apart from all dearest to 
 their nature } No, heaven extends through 
 unlimited space, and is not confined to one 
 particular spot. Think of the rapture of wander- 
 ing from one glorious spot to another. And 
 then, those who have the desire may hover near 
 the loved ones left on earth. 
 
 Oh happy state ! what joy it is to mingle, 
 unseen, among the different worlds of God's 
 creation ! Many of them are m uch more beauti- 
 ful than the earth you dwell on. 
 
2l8 
 
 BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 i '■ 
 
 
 Do not wonder that the inhabitants of 
 Brighter Spheres are so rarely visible to those 
 on earth. It takes a strong power to enable us 
 to materialize. Yet this power is valuable, 
 for it would prove to unbelievers the truth of 
 immortality. 
 
 As I hover near, dictating this, there softly 
 comes to me the spirit of a woman, fair to look 
 upon. I have met her before amid the glories 
 of Brighter Spheres, where she unfolded to me 
 a portion of her history. She had once stood 
 visibly on earth. The way she relates the tale 
 is as follows : — 
 
 Not long ago there dwelt beside the seashore 
 a humble fisherman who was an Atheist ; yet 
 his only child — a daughter — was a sincere 
 Christian. It was the only trial of her life, try- 
 ing to convince her father of the truth. 
 
 One summer's day there came to that spot a 
 youth — a descendant of a noble race. There, 
 where the wild waves whispered to him of a 
 brilliant future, he met his fate. He beheld the 
 fair maiden, and it was the old story — a 
 father's anger and a maiden's tears. The re- 
 sult was a quiet marriage ; and forth from her 
 home, into the world, she went. But soon came 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES. 
 
 2\<y 
 
 the awakening. Like some flower, transplanted 
 from its native soil, she drooped, until at last 
 death released her spirit ; and her first thought 
 was to try and let her father know that, though 
 dead to the world he lived on, she still existed 
 in a purer, better life. 
 
 It was night in the old man's dwelling, and 
 for miles around the snow-drifts lay in an un- 
 broken tract. The old home was inaccessible 
 to the approach of man, but in the house an 
 old neighbor was passing the night. He 
 possessed the power of a medium. This drew 
 the spirit of the maiden onward, till gradually 
 she assumed the outward covering of the soul. 
 She stood there, visible to the eyes of her father, 
 and assured him of a future life ; and then, as 
 he tried to clasp her, she slowly vanished from 
 his sight. Now he no longer doubts ; he has 
 seen proof of immortal life. I merely relate 
 this because that man is living yet, and, if he 
 reads this, can verify the statement. 
 
 And now one more scene before I close this 
 record. It is my father's house, and he is alone. 
 There is no joy around him, no mirth, no child- 
 ish laughter. Bereft of earthly hope, for him 
 the future holds nothing but despair. Sadness 
 
220 
 
 liRIGlITER SPHERES, 
 
 
 K 
 
 
 comes over my spirit as I behold him. Fain 
 would I stand before him and tell him of my 
 life, but the power is not there. Will he read 
 this book, I wonder ? If he does, my task will 
 not have been in vain. 
 
 O God ! who lovest all mankind, Thou 
 knowest well my mission ; in no other way but 
 this could I accomplish it. Look Thou kindly 
 upon it, O God ! and send it forth into the 
 doubting world with Thy earnest blessing. 
 
 And now the prophetic instinct steals upon 
 my soul. I see mankind believing in this work. 
 I see the world better, purer, for having read it. 
 I see the bonds of brotherhood and love extend- 
 ing throughout the universe, and all voices 
 acknowledging Christ as God. 
 
 And now farewell, O earth ; nothing more 
 remains to tell you, O people of the world ! In 
 a little while, perhaps, you will behold the glories 
 I now revel in. Soon I shall ascend into a 
 higher sphere, where new joys :iv/; it me. Yet I 
 will not desert you. When yciu see the trees 
 budding forth in spring-time, I will have more 
 to tell you. To those who will find fault with 
 this work, I have but one excuse to ofTer. 
 During life I was not a writer ; and if I have 
 
 
BRIGHTER SPHERES, 
 
 221 
 
 accomplished in death what was not permitted 
 in life, surely you can be lenient with all 
 mistakes. 
 
 Now again I say, "farewell," with many 
 thanks, to those who took an active part and 
 deep interest in the production of this work 
 — especially to her who, throuc^h many trials, 
 never failed me yet. And when for each of 
 you the Stream of Life is ended, and you stand 
 upon the eternal shore, then shall I seek you, 
 and we will wander together through the ever- 
 increasing glory and delight of Brighter Spheres. 
 Even now there comes to me the far-ofif echo of 
 heavenly music. You cannot hear it, nor can 
 you see the bright-robed messengers of mercy, 
 who come to bear me upward. Shall I see the 
 Saviour there, I wonder ? Will He bless me for 
 the task I have done > A flood of deep radiance 
 steals over my soul ; joy, rapture, glory, uplift 
 me. Earth is fading from my sight. My 
 mission is ended ; my task is done. Brighter 
 grows the light around me. I breathe on thee 
 a blessing ere I vanish. Ah I I hear the Saviour 
 calling on me from afar. To Thee, O Christ, 
 my Lord, I come. 
 
 THE END,