In this sweet spot more than one poet abides, more than one artist makes his home; but the great attraction of the place is a massive, white, academic-looking structure, in the center of the valley. This building is indeed a college of learning; within its lofty walls lessons are given and learned, not only in the usual arts and sciences, but, best of all, in the art of teaching, and of becoming competent to guide, instruct, and develop all the best powers of the little children. From this college in the Valley of Delight, spirits, men and women, youths and maidens, go forth to Floralia, to become teachers and guides for the little children who gather there.
In this college school, even elderly men and women are entered as pupils; those who, having experienced earthly life without the advantages of education, or have passed through mortality confined to one department of learning. In our world every spirit receives the opportunity for acquiring an education, and all, at some time, avail themselves of it. There are many such schools of learning in the spiritual world, and they are of untold benefit to the inquiring soul.
It would be useless for me to attempt to describe even a tenth part of the places I have visited, and scenes I have witnessed in the spiritual. Mortal language fails to convey a proper idea of certain phases of spirit life, even when the brain of our instrument can receive correctly the thoughts we impress upon it. To realize positively the beauties as well as the deformities,—if I may be allowed to use the word in relation to the lower spheres of spirit life,—one must be able to perceive them with spirit vision. Hence I have only attempted to convey to you a faint though real idea, so far as it extends, of what I have witnessed in other lands than those of earth.
THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUND OF THE INDIANS.
Before I close this chapter I must speak to you of that fair, peaceful, mountainous country of the spirit world, where the Indian race find a happy home. To reach this region from the cities of which I have spoken, one must go far out into the open country; through valleys and over hills; through deep forests and sunny glades, up, ever upward in his march, until at length he comes to an open stretch of green fields, where the mellow sunlight gleams and tiny flowers blossom. Beyond this level plain of verdure, a deep, blue, rolling river sweeps, its shining waves dancing in the sunlight under the quaint, canoe-like boats that rest upon them. Kanalaw, Smiling River, I have heard these waters called; and it seems indeed a fitting name, for only peace and joy is suggested at the sight of its shining waves. Beyond this rolling river there is a deeply-wooded country. Here you are up high among the mountains; this is the red man’s home, his happy hunting ground, where no foe disturbs him, where no storms can come.
The white race is welcome here as visitors, and a number live here as teachers to their dusky friends; but this is exclusively an Indian country. Throughout the deep forests, where cooling streamlets flow, and birds make merry music in the branches of the stately trees, the picturesque wigwams of the Indians stand, white and shining, embroidered with quills, feathers, and silks of every hue, hung with many-colored hangings or curtains of silken texture, and ornamented with natural flowers, which give out sweet incense to the breezes. The young people of the race delight to weave flowery garlands with which to deck their homes.
Out in the sunny glades of this region, where flowers of every kind bud and blossom, where the brooks murmur over mossy stones, and all life is glad, the great lodges of the country stand,—their school-houses and their council-halls,—and there they meet to give or gain instruction and to receive counsel from the wise chiefs whom they honor and love.
Tribes here mingle together and dwell in unity; no hate, no anger, no fears disturb their minds; they grow in harmony, and gain that strength of mind which they send back to aid and assist the pale-faces through their chosen mediums. Here the Indian finds rest and peace, gaining freedom, vigor, and strength from the waters, woods, and hills; growing gentle like the flowers, and mild as the evening breeze. His soul grows and expands in the power of love, and he gains knowledge not only from surrounding scenes, but through his intuitive faculties, which are receptive to truths, and likewise from learned and cultured beings from the higher spheres, who delight to teach the red man, and whom he in turn listens to with reverence and love.
This beautiful country, fairer than mortal eye hath ever witnessed, has proved a blessing to many a weary spirit. Not only is it a refuge for the poor, hunted and despised Indian, who, fleeing from mortal chains, finds therein rest and peace, but it is also a haven of rest to many a poor, weary pale face, who, passing out from mortal life, uncared for and alone, is taken up by tender spirits into this blooming country, and amid its pure air and green hills, cared for by the tender Indian maid, he gains strength and ease of mind and body. Here, too, many little children gain strength and power to return to earth as messengers of light to weary hearts.
And there are lyceums in the Indian country,—lyceums, where lessons are learned from the singing brook, the mossy stone, the budding flower, and the warbling bird; where the grand march is made beneath archways of living green, and many-colored banners are formed of blooming flowers; where life is natural, and where souls are happy and free.