I commenced schooling my mind and subduing my bodily propensities. I abstained from all food, except just enough to keep me alive and in health. I supplied the wants of nature, but nothing more. I practiced self-denial in almost everything, forcing myself to act directly opposite to the promptings of my carnal mind. I retired now to the wildest parts of the mountains, to fill my soul with awe at beholding the stupendous grandeur of nature; and now to the sunny valleys, the babbling rills, and murmuring waterfalls, to drink in gladness and joy. I visited the poor, bestowing gifts upon them, wandering far and near in search of objects of charity, until my fortune was exhausted, and I was left with but a scanty pittance for my support. But I gloried in my poverty, remembering that the Scriptures teach that money is a hindrance, the love of it an insuperable barrier, to the perfection of human virtue. Knowledge was all I cared for; wealth sank into less than nothingness when compared with it.

My great aim was to arrive to an exalted state of purity, in order to attain to higher knowledge. I would not suffer myself to think of anything unconnected with the Great Author of its existence. At length I found myself undergoing a gradual change. The thoughts of earth and earthly things became irksome to me, and I could banish them from my mind at pleasure. My thoughts were as much at my command as my actions. I could think upon a particular subject, or leave off thinking on it at will, just as I could put my limbs in motion, or leave them at rest, as I pleased.

One day I seated myself by the side of a little rill, the magnificent white blossoms of the laurel waving over me, and the wild vines creeping with serpentine folds around the boughs of the neighboring trees, forming an arbor above the quiet stream. It was a lovely spot, and might well have been fancied the favorite resort of the mountain genii, when they wished to retire to solitude and indulge in reverie.

Here I determined to try the experiment of willing myself a spirit, separate from my body and independent of it. It required some effort for me to do this; but gradually I seemed to lose my bodily form, and to become independent of the laws of gravitation. In a few moments the change was complete; and no sooner was it so than I heard a voice, mild and sweet beyond anything which it is in the power of the imagination to conceive—

"Mortal," said the voice, "behold what the eyes of sinful mortal never saw!"

I turned, and beheld a form bright as the sun; but it did not dazzle my eyes. On the contrary, I loved to look upon it; and as I gazed I felt a joy diffusing itself through my soul never dreamed of before, and so perfect that I was wholly abandoned to it.

"I am thy good angel," again spake the voice; "and thy mind, subdued to thy own control, and exerted in a pure and holy direction, has so far removed the scales with which earthly passions blind the human eyes, that thou art permitted, though still mortal, to see me, an immortal, and hear my voice. Thy desire for knowledge shall be gratified, for thou seekest it not for any evil end. Listen, and I will give thee thy first lesson in a course of study new to and unheard of by thee."

I listened and heard strange yet sweet words, and drank in with eagerness the instruction imparted to me. But, as I only learned a portion at that time, and have continued at different periods since to learn more, I will not here attempt to set down the words then uttered to me, or to recount the particular points on which I was enlightened at the different times; but will throw together a portion of the information I have acquired during the whole time, selecting such as I shall think most likely to interest you, and to fire you with a desire to obtain more from the same source from which I have obtained mine; for man, even while living on this earth, and consequently mortal, may, through the attributes of immortality, learn much that is incomprehensible to the mere mortal mind.

Every human being on this wide world is attended, from his birth to his death, by two angels, the one good, the other evil. Neither has any power to prompt its charge to action either bodily or mentally, for the will is free to choose for itself; but when once a course of acts or thoughts is commenced, then both have power, and each acts in direct opposition to the other, causing the mind to waver and alternate between good and evil, embracing sometimes the one and sometimes the other, as the respective angels obtain the mastery. If a man's thoughts and actions be good, his good angel endeavors to encourage him to persevere in them, while his evil one wars against them; and if his thoughts and actions be evil, his evil spirit urges him on, while his good one tries to restrain him. Hence the life of man is one continued warfare, the two spirits for ever battling against each other, and each in its turn exulting in victory and mourning over defeat. But, let which may be vanquished, it does not easily abandon the contest. The human will can always decide the strife with regard to any particular thing, and cast the victory on either side it pleases, and, with traitorous fickleness, it fights sometimes on the one side and sometimes on the other.

Man, in general, is not sunk to that depth of depravity in which he is frequently represented—a depth so low, so dark, and so wretched as to be wholly incapable, with his own human nature, unaided and left to himself, to think a holy thought or perform a righteous act. If this were the case, the evil angel would ever prove victorious, and the good one would retire in despair, and leave the poor human being the prey of the powers of darkness. Men have much to say about the foreknowledge of God, the predestination and election of the human race, or of a portion of it, and such like. These are fruitful themes of controversy, as unavailing as they are absurd. God does not reckon time, for it is finite and he is infinite. He knows only eternity, in which there is neither past nor future, but an ever-abiding present, without beginning or end. Without freedom of will it would be impossible for man to be an accountable being. If the angels which attend him through life had the power to prompt him to action, then they would have the entire rule over him, and they alone would be held accountable for his course. True, it is possible that either spirit may be subdued, and the mind reduced entirely under the control of the other; this can only take place where the mind concurs with the victorious spirit, and continues to concur with it, and willingly yields to its control, and therefore the mortal is still the accountable one, and the one with whom God will finally reckon.