“Be faithful to her who has preceded you, and learn of us, who know it, wherein consists true happiness.  You need but little help, dear friend.  Banish only from your thoughts the human suggestion that what you love most is lost, gone irrevocably.  Rejoice, and mourn not, that she has entered in already where all your striving is to follow.  Be glad because she looks on those sights and hears those sounds which are too bright and strong yet for your eyes and ears.  Some of these unspeakable things you shall perceive with your perishable body; but the more perfect and glorious remain hidden to our mortal senses, be they ever so keen and exquisite.  Believe me, you shall reach that state before I do.  My poor soul is still bound to earth by some slender bonds of pleasure and contemptible pain, fine indeed as threads of gossamer, and soon, I trust, to be shaken off for ever.  Yet am I bound and not utterly free.  You, my brother, have been wrenched suddenly from the life of the body to the life of the soul.  In you the vile desire to live for living’s sake will soon be dead, if it is not dead already.  Your soul, drawn strongly upward to other spheres, is well nigh loosed from love of life and fear of death.  If at this moment you could lie down and die, you would meet your end joyfully.  Very subtle are the fast-vanishing links between you and the world; very thin and impalpable the faint shadows that mar to your vision those transcendent hues of heavenly glory you shall so soon behold.  Look forward, look upward, look onward—­never once look back, and your waiting shall not be long, nor her watching many days.  She stands before you, beckoning and praying that you tarry not.  See that you do her bidding faithfully, as being near the blessed end, and fearful of losing even one moment in the attainment of what you seek.”

“Fear not, Ram Lal.  My determination shall not fail me, nor my courage waver, until all is reached.”

The light of another world was on the beautiful brow and features as he looked full at his future teacher.  What strange powers these adept brethren have!  What marvellous magnetism over the souls of lesser men—­whereby they turn sorrow into gladness, and defeat into triumph by mere words.  I myself, bound by thought and word and deed to the lesser life, was not unmoved by the glorious promises that flowed with glowing eloquence from the lips of that gray old man in the early morning.  They moved toward the door.  Ram Lal spoke as he turned away.

“We leave you, friend Griggs, but we will return this evening and bid you farewell.”  So I was left alone.  Another comforter had taken my place; one knowing human nature better, and well versed in the learning of the spirit.  One of that small band of high priests who in all ages and nations and religions and societies have been the mediators between time and eternity, to cheer and comfort the broken-hearted, to rebuke him who would lose his own soul, to speed the awakening spirit in its heavenward flight.