, and is now a saint in Heaven.
Oh, though oft depressed and lonely, all my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only such as these have lived and died."

The pages of the Bible, the testimony of all the sweet singers of all
the ages, confirm indisputably our certain knowledge of spirit return,
and _we know_ the truth of what the saints and sages of all time have
dreamed, and by faith have believed, all religions have taught, it is
now demonstrated beyond all doubt and we can say most joyfully--

"Oh land, oh land
For all the broken-hearted,
The mildest herald by our fate allotted
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great departed,
Into the silent land."

We turned to our duties, inspired by the knowledge that we were guided
and assisted by the loved ones gone before. After living on the
flat-as-pan-cake plain of N---- for three years, again was I
disenchanted; all the poetic illusions of farm life vanished, all the
oxygen seemed to be exhausted from the air, the romance of raising
potatoes at a cost of five dollars a peck disappeared, the old farm
hung like a millstone round my neck, we sold it and hired a pretty
cottage in the lucre-worshipping town of B----, on the 29th of March,
1890, where we led uneventful lives for one year, until my fickle
fancy was captivated by a fine new house on the hilltop overlooking
the sea, in the town of W----, Mass. This we bought and entered on the
14th of May, 1891.

Here at last we thought we had found the Mecca towards which, all our
lives we had been drifting. Once more came the passion for beautifying
our own, and we made our lawns to bud and blossom like the roses;
worshipping at the shrine of the majestic ocean,

"Its waves were kneeling on the strand,
As kneels the human knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand
The priesthood of the sea."

Here we passed four very pleasant and useful years; consciously near
to us, though unseen, were all our loved ones of the spirit world.
Almost every night our angel friends communicated with us unmistakably
through the ouija, and planchette; they would draw caricature pictures
of us all, and give us conundrums and jokes that we had never known
before. One evening in particular, Mary wrote us to give her children
the best possible musical instruction, stating that May would become a
great singer and flute player, and that Ada would be a fi