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V o l . I I . — N o . 16. [ e . v . w i l s o n ,] CHICAGO, JUNE 1, 1876. [ L o m b a r d , III.] W H O L E N o . 42. For the Spiritualist at W o rk. T H E R I S I N G SU N . BY MRS. L. E. B A IL E Y . T h e rising sun dispels the gloom W h ich N ight has thrown around us As o’er the hill-tops quickly flee T h e shadows which had bound us. T h e rising sun, with rosy beams, Sheds beauty o’er the earth ; And wakes again with magic power Each form of N a ture’s birth. T h e merry warblers chant anew T h e ir gushing, thrilling lays, And all the air is redolent W ith sweetest melodies. Only at night , when silence reigns, A r e deeds of darkness done ; But ere the rising sun appears D eparts each murderous one ; W ell knowing that the light of morn W ould sure disclose to view T h e ir wicked purposes— impure— And motives all untrue. So m ay the “ risin g sun ” of thought D ispel all mental doubt, W h ich ignorance has cast around A n d error brought about. For when the shadows t h ickly fall Upon our mental w a y , And midnight darkness like a pall Shuts out the light of day, W e blindly grope our w a y alone , A n d stum b ling , sometimes fall, Or make mistakes o’er which we grieve, But cannot once recall. So dark the gloom, our soul’s oppressed ; W e hear no cheerful song— For hope, the siren bird, has fled, And faith and trust are gone. Y e t when we rally to our aid T h e forces deep within, And rouse the slum b ering latent powers T o conquer and to w in , Then will the “ risin g sun ” appear, T h e light o f knowledge shed, Her burnished rays to guide us through L ife’s tangled misty web. For the Spiritualist at W ork. DR. S L A D E A N D P R O F . T Y N D A L L . D. M. B e n n e t t — Dear Sir: You say, 4 O ne world at a time.” I would ask how long at a time ? It is well established by sta tistics that at every tick of the clock a child is brought into this world, and in the same time a person is passed to the other world. At least these are comparatively the facts. Now, when you say 44 one world at a time,” Bro. Bennett, please tell us how long shall we con template one at a time ? W h ile the unseen world of life and motion is eternally appearing on the stage, and the material things are just as steadily disappearing at every breath, how long shall we stop to take stock in this world, without counting our chances of falling into the next? N o ! it does seem that the visible and invisible worlds are so inseparably inter blended that it is impossible to separate them distinctly. I have penned these few thoughts by way of introduction to the relation of a sitting I and my wife had with the justly celebrated medium, Dr. Henry Slade, of N. Y . Although many accounts of his seances have been published, I hope you will continue to publish them to the circle of the earth, until mankind, and espe cially such of them as Tyndall, shall learn to exercise more decency and moral respect than to use such billingsgate against t r u t h , yes, against FACTS ; as he used in his recent little intellectual tilt with Martineau, in the Dec. (1875) number o f the Popular Science Monthly , in the course of which he goes entirely out of his way to gather a handful of meaningless in tellectual dirt to cast upon Spiritualism. I f Tyndall had been discussing Spiritualism in that article he could with some show of cause have exhibited his spleen and cast his senseless slur at a downcast and bleeding cause, whose teachings and principles are founded on the very truth he is trying to dis cover. But he exhibited his anger, for anger is plainly m anifest; so manifest that it de throned his reason for the time. I thought, of all men, certainly Tyndall could not permit himself to throw his reason overboard, even when he was accidentily led to think of that terrible fact— Spiritualism. A fact that he and his brother scientists will have to reconsider before they can settle it by such senseless blackguardism as calling it ‘4 Intellectual whoredom.” Now mark, Tyndall had scarce ly if at all mentioned spirit or spiritism in his whole article, until at the close. I suppose some spirit impressed the word upon his mind when he was struck by an intellectual earth quake, and the wild lava ran from his pen after the following style: 44 T h e world will have religion of some kind, even though it should fly for it to the intellectual whoredom of Spirit ualism.” I have consulted W ebster's U n a bridged for some ground upon which the learned gentleman has rested his mighty pro jectile to frighten all who put any faith in spiritual things, but all I find is that Mr. T y n dall has been obliged to go to a spiritual book, the Bible, to get his remarkable idea of a mix ture of intellect and whoredom. It seems to refer to the Bible account of somebody who was supposed to have 44 deserted the worship of the true God for the worship of idols.” So poor Prof. John Tyndall, the giant of scientific wisdom, had to resort to a spiritual book to get an idea to frame a sentence of his 44 intel lectual whoredom ’’ to hurl against the spirit uality of that book, and against all other spirituality. I feel sorry for our scientists that they are obliged to go over to the theologians and give up their sheet anchor, their reason, when they talk about Spiritualism. W h ile Dr. Slade was in Philadelphia, re cently, my wife and I had a sitting in his pres ence, in open daylight, around a very plain, unvarnished and unpainted table. *W e had sat but a few moments when raps were heard on the table and chairs, made by an invisible power. W e asked if any of our spirit friends were present, and if so could they communi cate with us. The raps answered yes. The Dr. held his slate under the table with one hand, while the other rested on the top of the table ; and it was written on the slate by a^ unseen power (for mark, the Dr. does not touch the pencil), 4‘ Many are present, and will try.” The Dr. then took up our slate and held it partially in sight, under the table, for two or three minutes, but nothing was written on it ; he then laid it on the top of the table, and took up his slate again and held it as before, and several communications were written, the pencil being heard writing and yet there was no physical contact with it. Then the Dr. laid his slate down, and the three of us all there were present) laid our six hands on the top of the table near the centre, while our double-hinged and closed slate, with a piece of pencil the size of a grain of wheat inside of it, lay near the end of the table, and while all was very quiet we heard writing on the inside of our slates. We opened them and found the fol lowing: “ I am so glad you came; I am not able to do much now. S. M.” We asked if the spirit would please write its name in full while communicating on the Doctor’s slate, and it did so previously to the above being written on our slate. The above are the initials of a brother, who passed to spirit life in 1860. It will be but fair to all concerned, at this point, to say th*t the only names given by us was the name of the brother above, and the name of the Doctor’s spirit wife before she, as a mortal, married him. The Doctor requested me to write the name of a spirit relative, as he said, in order that the spirits could call our spirit friends to commuicate. But while I wrote my brother’s name I also wrote the following question to the Doctor’s wife: “ Mrs. Wilhelm, do you remember me?” the Doctor not knowing anything that was written, and directly I received the following reply: “ Yes, I remember you and yours, and often come to see you, and always shall. “A. W.” The Doctor read it, and, evidently, did not understand it, as he recognized two ; letters of his spirit wife’s familiar signa- j ture, and he asked if I had addressed her. j For, said he, she signs her name Slade. I j explained by informing him that I was ac- i quainted with her before he married her, when her name was Wilhelm. I did it to ! get a test from h er; and 1 got a good one. What answer will Materialists make to | that? I asked one since what he would do j with such evidence, and he replied by a I long homily, to show that we could not j trust our own senses. Then said I, what I are our senses for if not to govern us ? Next, the name of a nephew was written, I and he said his brother Charlie was there. I We remarked that we were glad to hear | from them, and asked, Will Charlie write? i To that question the following was written I while the slate lay as described above: “ Dear Uncle, Charlie cannot control. It is hard work for me. I am “ E d w i n S. M a r s h a l l .” Now these communications were written I inside of the closed slates, while 110 visible I power touched them. They are intelligent ; communications, signed with the names of i those who we know to be in the spirit | world, because we had long ago followed j their bodies to the grave. Can you believe your senses when you see i your brothers buried in the earth? If so, 1 then do not be so foolish as to say we can- : not believe our senses when we see as plain I facts in regard to these phenomena. We both saw hands, which appeared and dis appeared; we heard raps all around us; chairs and tables were moved without phys ical contact. Now will Mr. Tyndall and his dupes (for I care not how great a man is, if he lead others astray they are his dupes) say this is “ intellectual whoredom ? ” I hope not. Do not deceive yourselves and lead thou sands into darkness, but come up, like men, and use your powerful minds and riddle this great question, and show your fellow creatures that your science is equal to the occasion, for this ghost will not down. It is not worthy of your steel to stand behind your forts, like the preachers, and cry “ Devil! foolishness! ‘ intellectual ’ non sense ! ” for there are hundreds of perfectly credible witnesses to prove these things as related, and facts are stubborn things even to you. I am ashamed of the position of our scientific men to-day. Shame! shame! to treat facts in the manner you have, and thus bolster up fraud and superstition. Many facts about the science of spirits are just as certain as the revolution of the earth, and yet your only reply to them is to degrade yourselves by calling these facts shamefully hard names. Oh ! mighty men, how you belittle yourselves. The above, Edwin S. Marshall, was a brother’s son, he passed to spirit life several years since. He returned, and wrote his name inside of the closed slate, which con tained a bit of pencil the size of a grain of wheat. Fact! Science please rise and explain. His brother Charlie, of whom he wrote, was younger than Edwin, and was acci dentally killed on the cars, where he was employed, between Trenton and New York, in 1871. Neither of us thought of either of them that morning, or while sitting at the table. Mind readers and clairvoyants, please rise and explain. Oh! scientists, lend a listing ear, and give us a flow of reason. S. M. Wilmington, Del., April, 1876. MR. MOODY’S TOUGHEST JOB. T R Y IN G TO PER S U A D E A JE W TO E M B R A C E C H R IST IA N ITY . “ Are you a Christian ? ” said Mr. Moody, pressing the hand of a well-dressed young man, who passed with the crowd down one of the aisles at the close of the services at the Hippodrome, the other night. The young man whispered something to the preacher. “Well, come into my private room,” said Mr. Moody, “ I shall be there in a few minutes.” He turned to speak to an anxious-looking young man, and, after a short conversation with him, took him aside. They talked in a low voice for some minutes, the preacher now and then laying his broad hand on the other’s shoulder, as if in earnest admonition. The lights in the hall were being turned out, and soon the place, which was deserted by all but the three, was pitch dark. Mr. Moody and his convert seemed to be too much engrossed with the subject of their talk to notice it. “ Let us kneel down and pray together,” said the preacher, after a while. After a short and fervent supplication which, echo ing through the great hall in the midst of the darkness, had almost a dramatic effect,
