Through the Mists; or, Leaves from the autobiography of a Soul in Paradise, etc

Front matter

OR LEAVES FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SOUL IN PARADISE RECORDED FOR THE AUTHOR BY ROBT. JAS. LEES " Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people." — The Angel's Song lt There is no death." — Longfello-w " Death is swallowed up in victory." — Paul LONDON GEORGE REDWAY TO THE READER I heard, within my spirit home, a wail : — " If only one could come— could tell the tale Of his experience on that other side ; Could rend the mists — could fling the portals wide, That we might see — might understand — might know ! " The agony disturbed me, and my heart said — " Go ! " Love cheers me on, but ignorance resists The power by which I hand this "Through the Mists." The Author. RECORDER'S NOTE I HAVE no desire to add anything to the following story more than a brief explanation of its origin, and my connection with the same.

It was Christmas Eve, and I was busily engaged with some annuals lying on my table, when a stranger — uninvited and unannounced — entered my room " while the door was shut." His presence did not disturb me, since I had entertained such visitors before ; so, pointing to a seat, I bade him welcome, and asked the purpose of his coming. He then explained to me a desire he had long cherished, and asked if I would aid him in its consummation. As soon as his mind comprehended the fact that he had passed the grave, a yearning possessed him to find some means of coming back, and telling how men erred in their conception of that life beyond. At first he feared he had no power to break the silence of the tomb, but with experience came the know ledge of the omnipotence of love, by which the lips of death could be unsealed, the proof of which was granted in our conversation.

He desired me to write what he should dictate, then give his story to the world. Recorder's Note VIII How could I answer " No ! " Was not I, in common with every human being, seeking for that knowledge he had the power to give ? Therefore I did not hesitate to take my pen. I soon discovered his recital, though unorthodox, threw a flood of light upon the Bible teaching, clearing clouds of doubt away, and reconciling passages therein I could not understand before. He came to me a stranger, but I soon learned to love him, and awaited his return with impa tience every morning ; now, when he has ceased his record for the present, I look upon the seat whereon he sat so many hours, as being in some mysterious manner half-way " Through the Mists." In sending this forth in obedience to his wish, let me append the prayer he breathed when last he left me : — " May God, the Father of the souls of all men, bless this effort of a yearning heart, to lift a portion of the weight of ignorance from the shoulders of his brethren in the flesh ; and grant that the light of its truth may be a lamp unto their feet in coming ' Through the Mists.' " To this I add Amen ! Robt. Jas. Lees. St Ives, Cornwall, May 1898. CONTENTS

Chapter I Coming Through The Mists

In my earth-life I was called a misanthrope. This is a strange admission with which to break my silence, but being now beyond the consequences to which such frankness might lead, I have no reason — even though I had the will — to speak with less reserve. If any apology be demanded for the pleasant task I have undertaken, let it be found in the ceaseless wail to which I have referred in my preface to these pages. Is my statement true in that respect ? I bid you turn that question inwards. Ask your own heart, and I will be con tent to take the answer, merely adding that as you are, so is all mankind. Pardon me one or two sentences in necessary explanation of myself before I carry you across the borders of the other world. My life was over shadowed by the consequences of some pre-natal trouble of which I knew nothing, save the phantom remaining to haunt me, and that it robbed me of a mother's guiding hand.

My father was an inflexible Calvinist, with a mode of life as carefully arranged as an architectural elevation, while its working details were as rigorously insisted upon. An elder of the Presbyterian Church, with a banking account of sufficient magnitude to allow him to live a life of most unquestioning faith, he spent all the years of his pilgrimage free from the shadow of reproach. My brother and sister were not so strictly inclined, and their almost open rebellion, as they grew, by no means tended to soften my father's character. For myself I neither received from, nor extended to, any member of the household any sympathy. No one ever spoke to me of my mother, — her name, in fact, was seldom mentioned — but I always felt that had she lived we should have been all in all to each other, but she was gone, and I was left alone !

Books were my only companions — the poets my greatest favourites. My earliest recollections are of the religious baby farm to which I had been entrusted, whose managers I learned to loathe for the duplicity and hypocrisy they habitually practised there. With a naturally morbid mind, the shadow of some unknown wrong above me, and a soul shrinking from the appearance of deceit, I soon learned to hate those who did not hesitate to lie in act and prayer, and plead with God to grant success to infamy. By these things I was gradually led to draw all my comfort from books, and to entertain a great aversion to any fellowship with those about me. I was naturally of a religious turn of mind, but preferred to solve its questions by the light of my own reason and the plain teachings of the Bible as I could comprehend them.

A practical acquaint ance with the public worship of the various sects only confirmed my original idea of there being much more of form and fashion than solid worship or spirit in them all, therefore in this, as in everything else, I learned to rely upon myself alone, and trust to the leniency and justice of a righteous God in respect to any error resulting from my honest endeavour to do His will according to the light within me. Nevertheless, I had companionship and sweet communion in my worship, after this manner : Led by some influence, to me nothing less than an inspiration, I would find myself in one of the courts and alleys so numerous in the East of London, where vice, poverty, and wretchedness most abound ; where help, though urgently needed, is seldom met with ; where the inhabitants are not learned in metaphysics, but hunger for the bread of practical sympathy.

Among such outcast and fallen members of our common humanity, I always found I had a sermon to preach which was com prehended in every part, a gospel to proclaim that they would gladly hear, a seed to sow which brought forth fruit sixty or a hundredfold. If the Church was right, and I at the last found that I was wrong, the gratitude which these poor unfortunates showed for the interest I took in them, would be sufficient to make the pains of my punishment not only bearable but welcome. There would be plenty of good people in Heaven to ensure the happiness of every soul who should gain an entrance to those streets of gold. I had no voice to sing, and if the religious conversation on earth were fair specimens of what would be the standard there, the goody-goodiness would have no charm for me.

Forced into such society, without any congenial work to do, the place would have no interest — no attraction — for me. It was not my idea of Heaven, consequently I did not want it. It would be very different with the poor, cast adrift into that other place— for if the Church was right the division would be made more upon those lines than any other. The rich build the temples, keep them out of financial difficulties, are constant at the means of grace, make them fashionable, provide everything necessary to worship God in the beauty of architecture and ritual, while they generously subscribe towards the salary of the minister ; paying in every way for their salvation, it is but right and honest they should meet with their reward. But the poor, who have to work long hours, with nothing to give, scarcely one suit to wear, and that unpleasantly suggestive by the odours of the workshop, with their vulgar habits and loud-voiced song, for whose accommo dation the white-washed, ill-lighted, draughty mission hall is provided, have no right to expect such an abundant entrance as those who contribute better while they live, and can be drawn in a four horse hearse when they take their departure.

For this reason the poor always had my sym pathy. When I thought upon the subject, I often felt as if I should be glad to find the pearly gates shut upon me, if by that means I could be some little consolation to the multitudes in hell. It was wicked — blasphemous — to feel so, so the vicar once told me ; but it was constitutional — part of my unfortunate malady, and he found it useless to attempt to change my mind. I never could understand the righteousness of poverty here and damnation there ; or the logical sequence of riches here and salvation there. It was not according to my reading of the Bible, or the teaching of Jesus in the parable of Dives and Lazarus, as I understood the English language. It may have been a defect in my power of analogy, but if so I held to the delusion. It was one evening, when on my way to visit some of these uncared-for people, that the great change overtook me.

I was walking along a crowded footpath, engaged in the contemplation of the lights and shadows visible on the faces of passers-by, when I heard a scream, and saw a child in deadly peril among the horses in the road. He was not far away, so bounding forward — with no thought but for his safety — I reached and dragged him from his hazardous position, then turned, and Something touched me. I clasped the boy more firmly and stepped forward. The noise ceased, vehicles and street faded away, as if some great magician had waved his wand, the darkness disappeared, and I was lying upon a grassy slope in an enchanted land. Neither did all the changes lie in our sur roundings. Few people would have been en amoured of the ragged child I rushed to save, with his shoeless feet, matted hair, and unwashed face ; but the angel I found lying upon my breast would have driven an artist into raptures.

For myself, in that instant, I had changed my morning suit for a loosely flowing robe which somehow seemed to be a part of myself; and though I was fully assured of my own individuality, I was curious to know what had taken place, and by what means, in the interval of one solitary step, a transformation of such completeness had been effected. The lad, though evidently conscious of the alteration, looked into my face with calm laughing eyes, void of any trace of fear ; perhaps he expected me to give some explanation, but I needed that myself. Then he buried his head in my shoulder and fell asleep. I sat and nursed him, trying to answer the only question which occupied my mind — " Where are we ? " I was reclining upon the grass of what can only be described as the auditorium of an immense, but natural amphitheatre, with the arena occupied by a multitude who appeared to be engaged in the reception of strangers, whom they were welcoming and congratulating.

If only I could have under stood it, the scene would have been as pleasing as it was brilliant, but, under the circumstances, my feelings were more of curiosity than of appreciation. It resembled the performance of an elaborate tableau of which I held no descriptive programme, being alike ignorant of the place, the players and the purpose. This was all that I could under stand : — There were two classes of persons repre sented — the one, evidently residents, attired in garments embracing almost every shade of colour with which I was familiar, and some the like of which I had never seen before, and therefore have no means to make you understand. The other, by far the smaller of the two, gave me the idea of strangers, who, having just arrived, stood in need of the help and assistance so freely proffered.

Where did they come from, I asked myself? To this I was enabled to find a somewhat satisfactory reply. Before me lay a plain, across which numbers were continually coming and going ; at its further side I saw a heavy bank of fog lying, the out lines of which were boldly portrayed as if confined within certain limitations. The atmosphere was so unusually clear, that although the fog was perhaps some two miles distant from where I lay, I could E easily discern that they entered the plain from that direction. I now became intensely interested in something which baffled my powers to determine whether it was real or an optical illusion. I noticed that the variegated colour of the dresses worn by those who went from us towards the mists gradually faded, until in the distance but one uniform tone of grey was visible ; on the contrary, as they returned the original hues were as mysteriously restored.

It seemed to me, at length, as if some magical influence was exerted by that vapour or that the plain was one which might legitimately be called enchanted. The moment I saw the fog I was conscious of a cold chill running through me, not due to any change of temperature, which was warm and genial, but such as one experiences at the thought of leaving a cosy fire to become enveloped in the piercing mist of autumn or early winter. What caused this is more than I can say — perhaps it was sympathy with those I saw emerging from such surroundings ; for many were so overcome they scarcely had the strength to reach the open plain ; while for some the watchers plunged into the mists and carried them through ; others being borne all the way across the plain before they had the power to stand upon their feet.

How long I was thus employed I cannot tell, but suddenly my attention was attracted to some one standing beside me and I arose, for the first time becoming aware that the slope whereon I had been sitting was occupied by many, evidently strangers, like myself. This, however, did not interest me so much just then, as it would pre viously have done ; all my mind being centred upon the person who stood beside me, in the hope that he would be able to solve the problem so perplexing to me. He divined my purpose before I had time to frame a question, and, stretching out his hands to wards the still sleeping lad, said : — " There is someone coming who will answer all your enquiries, my duty is to take the boy." " To take the boy ? " I answered, scarcely knowing whether I ought to give him up. " Where ?

Home ? " " Yes ! " " But how shall we get back ? How did we come here ? Where are we ? " "You must be patient for a little while," he answered, " then you will know and understand all about it." " But, tell me, is this delirium or a dream ? " " No ! You will find you have been dreaming, now you are awake." " Then, please, tell me where we are, and how we came here ; I am so perplexed to know that." " You are in a land of surprises, but you need not fear : it will bring for you nothing but rest and compensation." " That only increases my difficulty," I said entreatingly. "But just now it was night in London, where I saved that boy from being run over. Then everything faded like a flash and I found we were here. Where then is this place. — What do you call it ? " " The land of immortality ! ' " What !— Dead ?— How ?

" I was conscious of falling back a step as the stupendous announcement fell upon my ears, but there was something so reassuring in his manner that I instinctively returned and grasped the hand he held out to give me welcome. Among all the theories by which I had tried to solve the mystery, this one had never suggested itself, — it would not have been entertained for a moment if it had, while the unexpected surroundings would have warranted me in dismissing it. I was astonished at the un questioning faith with which I accepted his declaration, while his sympathetic composure absolutely forbade any sense of agitation as the startling truth was fully comprehended. " No ! Not dead ! " he replied, after a moment's pause. " Did you ever know dead men to talk, and be surprised ? When a boy leaves home for school, or school to take his part in the more serious events of life — when a girl leaves her father's for her husband's home, have you been in the habit of saying they were dead ?

Certainly not ! Neither are you right in supposing you are dead since passing through the change which has overtaken you." " But I have made an unmistakable exit from one world and an entrance into another ; therefore while I am alive to this new life, I am dead to that which I have left behind." " You will now be called upon to enlarge your conceptions and ideas ; as your homes on earth are separate habitations, and nations form the do minions of different kings, so the various states and worlds in this life become the many mansions in the universal kingdom of our Father — God. There fore you are only dead to earth in the same way as the school-boy dies as a scholar, but has the greater power of a teacher ; or as the girl ceases to be a resident, and becomes a visitor." " I do not understand you," I replied.

" Let me give you the outline of a parable over which you may reflect until someone else is sent to afford you clearer information. Children are coaxed to sleep on earth by the singing of nursery rhymes, the fabulous heroes of which become historical characters in the minds of the little listeners, until the realities of life dispel the illusion. So children of a larger growth, upon entering this life, find that even so have they been lulled to spiritual slumber by the fictions of the nurses of their souls. It is the awakening to the truth of this fact which makes this a land of surprises, as you will find it to be as you proceed. But now I must leave you, and take our little brother to the children's home, where you will meet him again presently." With a kindly salutation he departed, and I was left alone to think on all he had said.

His parable was pregnant with revelation that the future alone could intelligently unfold, but one thing was evident — I had taken the irrevocable step — had solved the grand secret ; yet what had I learned ? I was merely waiting with the knowledge that the act of dying had been unconsciously accomplished. What would be the result ? Whatever it might be I could not now go back ; I had to meet my fate. One thing I had been assured : there was no need to fear. I did not — was not even anxious — I was content. So I waited and pondered.

Chapter II The Judgment Hall

My reflections ran in something like the following strain : — " A land of surprises, is it ? Yes ! And why did he not say a land of revelation as well ? How long have I been here ? An hour — a day — a month ? I know not. By my idea of time it seems as if I had but just made that attempt to save the boy ; but measured by the revelation, I feel as if I had been here for years. " How strange that I should have no knowledge how I came away ! I did not fall — felt no pain — had no indication of reviving from a swoon — how was it ? How many people cloud their lives with fear, by the dread they feel of dying ; how many teachers delight to dwell upon the terrors of that hour when the soul stands face to face with death ; how vastly different has my experience been ! " I wonder whether among all the surprises of this life I shall find it possible " ' Oh !

God ! I know not yet where Thou art, or who Thou art ; but the revelation which has been given to me is full of love and bright with promise, therefore I feel it has come from Thee, and fills my soul with hope. I know not yet if I am saved or lost ; but in Thy mercy hear me, and in Thy pity for the sons of men, permit me, if it be possible by some means which I do not know — by some method Thy love is able to devise — once more to make my voice to reach the mortal state, and help to lift the weight of error lying upon the shoulders of my fellow-men. Thou knowest, O my God, the blindness and ignorance of those who now profess to lead Thy children on. Many have not tasted Thy great love ; many have not felt Thy grace ; many are groping in the dark, blinded by the traditions of men ; many have wandered from the fold.

The songs of Zion have been forgotten in the greed for fame, and wealth, and power ; and weary pilgrims tramp their homeward way, with sighs, and groans, and tears, beating time to the rhythm of their march. If any joy is here for me, O God, my Father, I am ready now to forfeit it. If the penalty I must pay is agony in hell, I am willing to endure it, if in Thy mercy Thou wilt send me back, with power to tell the truth of Thy unchanging love, and lift the load of doubt from those who, seeking, know Thee not.' " Is it wrong of me to say I know not where or who God is ? Perhaps so ! But it is honest, and I cannot but think that honesty is right. Every thing around me is so contrary to that which I expected, I feel afraid to trust to anything I knew; and the torrent of yearning for my fellows to know the truth as far as I behold it, forced me to breathe that prayer.

If some strong hand could, but for an instant, tear the veil aside, and bid the multitudes of earth behold the future as it really is, what a revelation it would be ! How it would change their sighs to songs, remove all doubts of God's eternal love, and proclaim a gospel for which all hearts are crying. It would be to earth what it is to me ; I who more than once, or twice, or thrice had been cautioned that the life I led could only meet with condemnation at the bar of God ; and yet I found the first words addressed to me were words of hope and encouragement — ' I need not fear.' How different a declaration is made on earth, where the love of God is limited to suit the requirements of every sect, while wrath and retri bution are left as infinite quantities to drive the sinner to salvation.

What can such teachers think when they awake to a knowledge of the truth as I have found it here ? " Here ! But where is ' here ' ? That is a question that has not yet been satisfactorily answered. Is it heaven ? No ; surely not ! Or if so, how strangely different from the harping, singing, crown decked throng the Church expects to find. It is not ! No ! All the surroundings are just as incapable of such an interpretation. What then can be the condition of this place ? Is it possible that there is an intermediate state after all ? Perhaps so ! And over the crest of these hills the judgment throne may stand to which I shall be summoned by-and-bye. I had not thought of that ; but the suggestion comes without a trace of fear; the words I have heard fill me with hope which I am sure can never be betrayed.

Whatever the issue may be I am content to learn it in the usual course of events, in the meantime I will rest." It is a popular idea that our entrance to the spirit-world will be greeted by friends and relatives who have preceded us, and in many cases this is so ; but, strange to say, even after I had learned the nature of the change which had come over me, the thought of such a meeting never occurred to me, until I felt, rather than heard, someone call my name. I turned, and saw a young woman, clad in the daintiest of pink robes, coming down the hill towards me. I was not sure, but thought her face bore a resemblance to one I had known in the long ago, except that the old furrows of care and want had been transformed into lines and curves of beauty. I had long since forgotten her, but she remembered me, and with eyes brilliant with wel come, and hands extended to clasp my own, she was the first of all I knew to greet me.

" A thousand welcomes," she cried, as she grasped my hands ; " I have but just received the news of your coming ; am I the first to meet you ? " " Yes, Helen, the first of all I know." " I am glad of that ; I always hoped it would be so. I have watched, and prayed and waited for it ; it is all I can do to thank you." " Thank me for what ? " I asked in astonishment. " I need not tell you that," she answered. " Our Father knows, and He will repay you." At that moment I found that heaven is quite as much a condition of the soul as it is of locality, and true friendship is a great factor in completing that condition. Only a short time before Helen's advent I had almost satisfactorily assured myself that I was not yet in heaven, but her appearance had reversed the decision. It had brought me such an overwhelming sense of joy.

I was so satisfied, I had no conception there could be more happiness to follow ; and this resulted from the presence of one to whom I had been but imperfectly known on earth. Her story, so far as I knew it, was not a long one. Her mother had died of sheer starvation in her endeavour to maintain three children and a sick husband by her labours as a charwoman, supple mented by Helen's scanty wages in a match factory. The girl was but fifteen years of age when the whole burden of that home fell upon her shoulders in its heavier form of greatly diminished means. Bravely she struggled on, toiling far beyond her strength to keep the wolf of hunger at bay, and save the home from its threatened destruction. But the wages for matchmaking are more easily counted in coppers than gold, and the little extra she could earn in other ways was but a drop in the ocean of their requirements, so she fell in the heat of the battle, crushed and broken-hearted.

I learned her story just before her death, and called to see her in the hospital where she was lying. On several days I sat for half an hour or so, trying to comfort her with the assurance that the children would be cared for when she was taken away, for I found the uncertainty as to their welfare was the sharpest thorn in her dying pillow. She was deaf to the missionary's entreaties to prepare her soul for death. — She had no fear for that. — Did not care about herself. She wanted to know the children would be safe, and when I gave her a solemn promise she grew calm and closed her eyes in peace. Her personal connection with those children I had long forgotten, since our acquaintance was of such brief duration ; but in the first moments of that re-union I felt I had discovered one of those consolations for which I had long been seeking •a sister's love.