How
Can This Be, If Mind Did Not Meet Mind, And The Spirit Had Not A
Prophetic Consciousness Of The Vicinity Of Another Spirit, Kindred
With Its Own?
This is an occurrence so common that I never met with
any person to whom it had not happened; few will admit it to be
a spiritual agency, but in no other way can they satisfactorily
explain its cause.
If it were a mere coincidence, or combination of
ordinary circumstances, it would not happen so often, and people
would not be led to speak of the long-absent always at the moment
when they are just about to present themselves before them. My
husband was no believer in what he termed my fanciful, speculative
theories; yet at the time when his youngest boy and myself lay
dangerously ill, and hardly expected to live, I received from him a
letter, written in great haste, which commenced with this sentence:
"Do write to me, dear S - -, when you receive this. I have felt very
uneasy about you for some days past, and am afraid that all is not
right at home."
Whence came this sudden fear? Why at that particular time did his
thoughts turn so despondingly towards those so dear to him? Why
did the dark cloud in his mind hang so heavily above his home?
The burden of my weary and distressed spirit had reached him;
and without knowing of our sufferings and danger, his own responded
to the call.
The holy and mysterious nature of man is yet hidden from himself; he
is still a stranger to the movements of that inner life, and knows
little of its capabilities and powers. A purer religion, a higher
standard of moral and intellectual training may in time reveal all
this. Man still remains a half-reclaimed savage; the leaven of
Christianity is surely working its way, but it has not yet changed
the whole lump, or transformed the deformed into the beauteous child
of God. Oh, for that glorious day! It is coming. The dark clouds of
humanity are already tinged with the golden radiance of the dawn,
but the sun of righteousness has not yet arisen upon the world with
healing on his wings; the light of truth still struggles in the womb
of darkness, and man stumbles on to the fulfilment of his sublime
and mysterious destiny.
This spring I was not a little puzzled how to get in the crops. I
still continued so weak that I was quite unable to assist in the
field, and my good old Jenny was sorely troubled with inflamed feet,
which required constant care. At this juncture, a neighbouring
settler, who had recently come among us, offered to put in my small
crop of peas, potatoes, and oats, in all not comprising more than
eight acres, if I would lend him my oxen to log-up a large fallow of
ten acres, and put in his own crops. Trusting to his fair dealing, I
consented to this arrangement; but he took advantage of my isolated
position, and not only logged-up his fallow, but put in all his
spring crops before he sowed an acre of mine.
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