“Nephi, Utah, Sept. 6, 1878.
To the Editor of the Voice of Angels:
Dear Brother,—I have felt like writing to you since you began to publish the spirit experiences of John Critchley Prince, for I have been deeply interested in reading his statements as they appear in your paper. I am from the same part of England where Mr. Prince dwelt when in the body, and was in 1850 a power-loom weaver in the West Mills at Ashton-under-Lyne, where he then resided. I always admired his poems, and, next to Byron, esteemed his poetry the grandest and best I had then read. * * * * * I recognize the mind of John Critchley Prince, the Lancashire poet, in every line of his account of his earth life in your paper; my wife also recognizes it, she having attended select parties where he recited some of his best poems, in Duckenfield and Ashton-under-Lyne, and we read in surprise and astonishment his first contribution to the Voice, not expecting anything of the kind; it was to us most interesting and agreeable. We congratulate you upon the acquisition of so noble a soul to your staff of contributors, and hope he will often give us his rich effusions through your paper.
Your brother and well-wisher,
Thomas J. Schofield.”
CHAPTER XXI.
MY LIFE AND EXPERIENCES ON EARTH.
My Friends,—Bearing the fraternal greetings of not only myself but hosts of higher spirits, whose pleasure and duty it is to mingle with you here, and who strive to teach you wisdom and knowledge concerning the highest, grandest phase of human existence, that of the immortal soul, I come laden with the experiences of a modicum of time passed in the super-mundane spheres, and crave an opportunity of unfolding them before you,—not with a desire for earthly recognition or adulation,—but with the hope that I may be enabled to show humanity the reality of those conditions that we aggregate to ourselves while in mortal, and their practical effects on the soul, trusting that I may enlighten you somewhat as to real life, and its mode of manifestation in the upper spheres; for it is time that mortals should understand more of the life to which they are going.
It is now[[9]] a period of seventy years since I, John Critchley Prince, was born upon the earthly plane, at Wigan, Lancashire, England, of poor, hard-working, honest parents. My only schooling was given me at a Baptist Sunday school, where I received a slight knowledge of reading and writing. But as I read with avidity all sorts of books that happened to fall in my way, I acquired a certain command of language, and knowledge of composition, that served in after years as a noble substitute for the education I was unable to procure, and which I always craved. At the early age of nine years I was obliged to labor for my living as a reed-maker for weavers, at which I was kept busy for sixteen hours per day, and my only opportunity for indulging in the luxury of reading was stolen from sleep.
[9]. The above was written in the spring of 1878.
In 1821 I accompanied my father to Manchester, where we both obtained employment as machinists. There, for the first time, I came across a copy of Byron’s works, which I devoured with astonishing rapidity, drinking in and retaining all the glory, fire, and beauty of those exquisite lines, and their delicate imagery, that made Byron, despite his faults, one of nature’s poets. What a world of delight, what a scene of enchantment was for the first time opened before me. I seemed to breathe a new atmosphere, one that thrilled my being to its very center; and while reveling in the new fields of splendor I had found, I forgot my poverty and toil; my soul stood forth erect in its conscious dignity and pride, feeling itself to be no longer a poor, toiling slave, but a creature of the universe, with powers and capabilities of expansion and growth. It was then I determined that some day I would sing my songs, and give them forth to the world.