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turer to descend and make discoveries. He goes to the bottom, and then returns, telling us that there he could see nothing that all was total darkness. We might very naturally infer the absence of light there; but if we concluded that his powers of vision had been annihilated, or that there could surely be no light in the land beyond the curtain, because, to reach that land, a very dark ravine must be crossed, it would have been weak reasoning so much so, that, if it contented us, we must be easily satisfied. It gave me pain to notice many-nay, many physicians, who, on these very premises, or on something equally flimsy, were quieting themselves in the deduction, that the soul sees no more after death. Suppose this adventurer descends again, and then ascends the other side, so near the top that he can reach the curtain and slightly lift it. When he returns, he tells us that his vision had been suspended totally as before, but that he went nearer the distant land, and it was revived again: that, as the curtain was lifted, he saw brighter light than he had ever felt before. We would say to him,—“ A certain distance does suspend; but inaction, is not loss of sight. Only travel on further, and you will see again." We can understand that any one might go to the bottom of that ravine a thousand times; they might remain there for days, and, if they went no further, they could tell, on their return, nothing of the unseen regions.

Something like this was pencilled out by the facts noted during many years employment in the medical profession. A few cases must be taken as samples from the list.

I was called to see a female who departed under an influence which causes the patient to faint again and again, more and still more profoundly, until they depart

entirely. For the information of physicians, I mention, it was uterine hemorrhage from inseparably attached placenta. When recovered from the first condition of syncope, she appeared as unconscious, or as destitute of activity of spirit as others usually do. She sank again and revived: it was still the same. She fainted more profoundly still; and, when awake again, she appeared as others usually do who have no thoughts which they can recall. At length she appeared entirely gone. It did seem as though the struggle was forever past. Her weeping relatives clasped their hands and exclaimed,"She is dead!" but, unexpectedly, she waked once more, and, glancing her eyes on one who sat near, exclaimed,-"Oh, Sarah, I was at an entirely new place!" and then sunk to remain insensible to the things of the place we live in.

Why she should not have thought, as others have not, when in her first stages of syncope, when not half as near death as she afterward was when she had thought, I could not clearly explain. Why her greatest activity of mind appeared to happen during her nearest approach to the future world, and whilst so near, that from her stage scarcely any ever return who once reach it, seemed somewhat perplexing to me. I remembered that, in the case recorded by Dr. Rush, where the man recovered, who was, to all appearance, entirely dead; his activity of mind was unusual. He thought he heard and saw things unutterable. He did not know whether he was altogether dead or not. St. Paul says he was in a condition so near to death, that he could not tell whether he was out of the body or not; but that he heard things unutterable. I remembered that Tennant, of New Jersey, and his friends, could not decide whether or not he had been out of the body; but he appeared to be so

some days, and thought his discoveries unutterable. The man who cuts his finger and faints, recovering speedily, has no thoughts, or remembers none. He did not approach the distant edge of the ravine. These facts appear to me poorly calculated to advance the philosophical importance of one who has discovered from sleep, or from syncope, that there is no other existence because this is all which we have seen. They appeared to me rather poorly calculated to promote the tranquillity of one seeking the comforts of atheism. For my own part, I never did desire the consolations of everlasting nothingness; I never could covet a plunge beneath the black wave of eternal forgetfulness, and cannot say that these observations in and of themselves gave me pain, but it was evident that thousands of the scientific were influenced by the weight of a small pebble to adopt a creed: provided that creed contradicted Holy Writ. I had read and heard too much of man's depravity and of his love for darkness, not to see that it militated against my system of deism, if it should appear that the otherwise learned should neglect to observe, or, if observant, should be satisfied with the most superficial view, and, seizing some shallow and less than half facts, build hastily upon them a fabric for eternity.

In the cases of those who, recovering from yellow fever, thought they had enjoyed intercourse with the world of spirits, they were individuals who had ap•peared to be dead.

The following fact took place in recent days. Similar occurrences impressed me during years of observation. In the city of St. Louis, a female departed who had a strong portion of the comforts of Christianity. It was after some kind of spasm that was strong enough to have been the death struggle, that she said, in a whis

per, (being unable to speak aloud,) to her young pastor,—“ I had a sight of home, and I saw my Saviour !"

There were others who, after wading as far as that which seemed to be the middle of the river, and, returning, thought they had seen a different world, and that they had had an antepast of hell. But these cases we pass over; and, in the next chapter look at items which point along the same road we have been travelling.

CHAPTER LVIII.

Means of Rescue.-Some considerations which influenced whilst pursuing the investigntion.

I was surprised to find that the condition of mind in the case of those who were dying, and of those who only thought themselves dying, differed very widely. I had supposed that the joy or the grief of death, originated from the fancy of the patient; (one supposing himself very near to great happiness, and the other expecting speedy suffering,) and resulted in pleasure or apprehension. My discoveries seemed to overturn this theory. Why should not the professor of religion who believes himself dying, when he really is not, rejoice as readily as when he is departing, if his joy is the offspring of expectation? Why should not the alarm of the scoffer, who believes himself dying and is not, be as uniform and as decisive as when he is in the river, if it comes of fancied evil or cowardly terrors? The same questions I asked myself again and again. have no doubt but that there is some strange reason connected with our natural disrelish for truth, which causes so many physicians, after seeing such facts

so often, never to observe them. During twenty years of observation, I found the state of the soul belonging to the dying was uniformly and materially unlike that of those who only supposed themselves departing. This is best made plain hy noting cases which did exist.

1. There was a man who believed himself converted, and his friends, judging from his walk, hoped with him. He was seized with disease, and believed himself within a few paces of the gate of futurity. He felt no joy, his mind was dark and his soul clouded. His exercises were painful, and the opposite of every enjoyment. He was not dying. He recovered. He had not been in the deathstream. After this he was taken again. He believed himself dying, and he was not mistaken. All was peace, serenity, hope, triumph.

2. There was a man who mocked at holy things. He became seriously diseased, and supposed himself sinking into the death slumber. He was not frightened. His fortitude and composure were his pride, and the boast of his friends. The undaunted firmness with which he could enter futurity was spoken of exultingly. It was a mistake. He was not in the condition of dissolution. His soul never had been on the line between two worlds. After this he was taken ill again. He supposed as before that he was entering the next state, and he really was; but his soul seemed to feel a different atmosphere. The horrors of these scenes have been often described, and are often seen. I need not endeavour to picture such a departure here. The only difficulty in which I was thrown by such cases was, 'Why was he not thus agonized when he thought himself departing? Can it be possible that we can stand so precisely on the dividing line, that the gale from both this and the coming world may blow upon our cheek? Can we have a taste of the

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