On the evening of the second day, as the emerald Moon enshrined itself in the third ring of gold—for such is the sidereal measurement of time—I found myself walking in a lonely avenue enamelled with flowers of sweet perfume. Sauntering along, as if in a dream, imagine my delight when I saw coming towards me my beautiful and beloved Sylvia. She was at a ripe age at her death, and notwithstanding an indefinable change I recognised the features, whose expression had but deepened and spiritualised, in happy correspondence with her sweet, pure life. I will not stop to describe to you the joy of our meeting, this is not the time for it; but perchance some day we may have the opportunity of descanting upon the different manifestations of affection in this world and the world beyond the grave, and I only add now that together we sought our native land on Earth, where we had passed days of peace and happiness. We delighted to turn our gaze towards the luminous point, which our state of exaltation enabled us to perceive was a world—the one upon which we had lived in earthly form—we loved to wed the memory of the past with the reality of our present, and in all the freshness of our new and ecstatic sensations we sought to recall and review the scenes of our youth. It was thus we actually saw again the happy years of our earthly love, the pavilion of the convent, the flower garden, the promenades in the charming and delightful environs of Paris, and the solitary rambles that, loving and beloved, we took together. To retrace these years we had but to travel together into space in the direction of the Earth, where these scenes, focused by the light, were being photographed. Now, my friend, I have fulfilled my promise in revealing to you these remarkable observations.
Behold the day breaks, and the star Lucifer is paling already under its rosy light. I must return to the constellations. . . .
Quærens. Just one more word, Lumen, before we conclude this interview. Can earthly scenes be transmitted successively into space—if so, the present could be kept perpetually before the eyes of distant spectators, and be limited only by the power of their spiritual sight?
The precession of events as seen in space.
Lumen. Yes, my friend. Let us, for example, place our first observer on the Moon—he would perceive terrestrial events one second and a quarter after they had happened. Let us place a second observer at four times the distance—he would be cognisant of them five seconds later. Double the distance, and a third would see them ten seconds after they had taken place. Again double the distance, and a fourth observer would have to wait twenty seconds before he could witness them; so on and on with ever-increasing delay, until at the Sun's distance; eight minutes and thirteen seconds must elapse before they could become visible.
Upon certain planets, as we have seen, hours must intervene between the action and the sight of it; further off still, days, months even years must elapse. Upon neighbouring stars earthly events are not seen until four, six, ten years after their occurrence; but there are stars so distant that light only reaches them after many centuries, and even thousands of years. Indeed, there are nebulæ to which light takes millions of years to travel.
Quærens. Therefore it only needs a sight sufficiently piercing to witness events historic or geologic which are long since past. Could not one, therefore, so gifted see the Deluge, the Garden of Eden, Adam and. . . .
Lumen. I have told you, my old friend, that the rising of the sun on this hemisphere puts to flight all spirits, so I must go. Another interview may be granted us some other day, when we can continue our talk on this subject, and I will then give you a general sketch which will open out for you new horizons. The stars call me, and are already disappearing. I must away. Adieu, Quærens, adieu.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Physiological anatomy would probably explain this fact by suggesting that a sort of punctum cæcum is displaced in order to conceal the object that one does not wish to see.