Pleiades Club—Telegraphers' Paradise on Planet Mars

By JEFF. W. HAYES AUTHOR OF Tales of the Sierras, Looking Backward at Portland, Paradise on Earth, Portland A. D. 1999, Autographs and Memoirs of the Telegraph, etc.
PUBLISHED BY MULTNOMAH PRINTING COMPANY PORTLAND, OREGON MCMXVII
To Edgar W. Collins, Poet-Laureate of the Telegraph; noble, high-minded gentleman; a true friend; this little volume is inscribed with a loving heart.
In offering the “Pleiades Club” to the public, I have no apologies to make. Some may object to the declarations contained herein, but they are all consistent with intelligent beliefs, and not contrary to fixed or orthodox faith. “There is no death,” and my thought is to strengthen and impress this health-giving idea upon all of my readers. I have undertaken to describe a reign of harmony that exists after “Life’s fitful fever” which is more worthy of credence than the hell afire and damnation espoused by some creeds and religions; and I hope that my telegraph friends will feel better on this score from a perusal of the “Pleiades Club.”
THE AUTHOR.

ETERNITY is an awe-inspiring theme and one which our little finite minds are unable to comprehend. It is a subject, however, which should never worry or distress us, when we stop to realize that we are all living in the eternal now.
Once upon a time, an evangelist, in following up his line of business, rendered a discourse on “Eternity” which would have given one an opportunity for endless mathematics.
“Supposing this earth was a huge ball of steel,” he began, “25,000 miles in circumference and a little bird would pass over it once every thousand years, lightly touching this immense steel body with the tip of its wing. Were you to tell the souls in hades that they would be released by the time the bird had cut a hole through and divided the sphere, there would be great rejoicing among the condemned.”
Knowing that there is nothing lost in God’s creation this little allegory should never make one nervous, for we also know that, like John Brown, our “soul goes marching on,” onward and upward.