“ ‘Yes; but nothing extraordinary. Only a clear spot—an atmospheric-looking aperture in the centre of the glass. Yes! now there comes a change—faint, misty, dusky shadows flit across; but nothing positive or distinct.’
“ ‘Is that all?’
“ ‘It is.’
“ ‘Look again.’
“ ‘Clearly and distinctly I see the fore-quarters of a large greyish-white dog. It grows! Now it is complete! The image stands out, bold and clear, from the mirror!’
“So perfect was this appearance, that I could not realize that it was a phantasm. The thing was impossible. It looked like the reflection of a dog in a looking-glass, and I actually turned my head, not to look for the dog, but for the picture of one upon the wall, that might have caused the image in the mirror. There was no such picture. The old man enjoyed my surprise, and muttered—
“ ‘Nothing supernatural, ha? Remember that idiots, bigots, and fools only dispute the existence of that which others do, but they do not understand. True, many pin their faith in a hereafter upon the curious phenomena attributed to disembodied souls, but they err in so doing. The demonstration can never be afforded through any process of either phenomena or intellection. Of that, be assured. Immortality can never be thought; it must be felt. Your philosopher cannot possibly grasp the idea, because it is not an idea at all. It is a reality, and comes to man never through the intellect, but ever and always through other channels of the spirit—comes over roads that begin on earth and terminate directly at the foot of God’s throne. Thus, when storms fall on the philosophic soul it shrinks and plays the coward. Not so the truly intuitional man. He feels, and, feeling, sees God through the gloom; and that, to him, is an insurance against loss or annihilation. He rides triumphant over circumstances that bar themselves effectually against all philosophers. Even when the shadow rests heaviest on the sky of life, such a soul beholds God enthroned in auroral splendor everywhere; he catches the sound of his voice from every echoing hill and dell, and it speaks to him of life everlasting, and its tones carry a thrilling demonstration of an hereafter that all the spiritualism of the earth could never impart.’
“Now while I looked upon the mirror I silently marvelled whether it were possible, through that glass, to solve the grand secret of the ages, and the old man’s speech could not possibly have been more apropos than it was. But in a moment afterward I felt indignant at having beheld such a figure, when he had promised I should see my soul, and told him so. ‘Let not that offend you,’ he replied, ‘that figure is not spectral, it is correspondential. What is the type of enduring fidelity, perfect trust and confidence, unbounded love and faith, if its symbol be not a dog? Such is the quality of your soul, nor is it very bad.’
“There now came a broad clean space on the glass, and the whole of it became clear and pellucid as the finest crystal; and in its very centre appeared a tiny, but very brilliant speck of white light, and its lustre increased till it became painful to gaze upon it. Gradually this expanded, and there came a space in its middle clearer than the brightest noon-day, into which I gazed with rapture, for the intense light faded away into a sort of hazy-vapor surrounding this spot.
“ ‘Into such, and through such do I wish you to look for me. But not now. The time is not propitious. That which you behold is the lense of a mystical telescope, wherewith you may scan and sweep the fields where revolve a myriad worlds like this, and of other millions whereof man is yet profoundly ignorant. Through it you can and may witness not only the worlds of which I speak, but also their tenants and all that they are doing.’