journey.  This known fact will serve us as a guide in comprehending the comparatively unknown subject now under discussion.  The work of writing the letters in question is carried on by a sort of psychic telegraphy; the Mahatmas very rarely write their letters in the ordinary way.  An electro-magnetic connection, so to say, exists on the psychic plane between a Mahatma and his chelas, one of whom acts as his amanuensis.  When the Master wants a letter to be written in this way, he very often draws the attention of the chela, whom he selects for the task, by causing an astral bell (heard by so many of our Fellows and others) to be rung near him, just as the despatching telegraph office signals to the receiving office before wiring the message.  The thoughts arising in the mind of the Mahatma are then clothed in words, pronounced mentally, and forced along currents in the astral light impinge on the brain of the pupil.  Thence they are borne by the nerve-currents to the palms of his hands and the tips of his fingers, which rest on a piece of magnetically-prepared paper.  As the thought waves are thus impressed on the tissue, materials are drawn to it from the ocean of akas (permeating every atom of the sensuous universe) by an occult process, out of place here to describe, and permanent marks are left.

From this it is abundantly clear that the success of such writing, as above described, depends chiefly upon two conditions:—­(1) The force and clearness with which the thoughts are propelled; and (2) the freedom of the receiving brain from disturbance of every description.  The case with the ordinary electric telegraph is exactly the same.  If, for some reason or other, the battery supplying the electric power falls below the requisite strength on any telegraph line, or there is some derangement in the receiving apparatus, the message transmitted becomes either mutilated or otherwise imperfectly legible.  Inaccuracies, in fact, do very often arise, as may be gathered from what the Mahatma says in the above extract.  “Bear in mind,” says he, “that these letters are not written, but impressed, or precipitated, and then all mistakes corrected.”  To turn to the sources of error in the precipitation.  Remembering the circumstances under which blunders arise in telegrams, we see that if a Mahatma somehow becomes exhausted, or allows his thoughts to wander during the process, or fails to command the requisite intensity in the astral currents along which his thoughts are projected, or the distracted attention of the pupil produces disturbances in his brain and nerve-centres, the success of the process is very much interfered with.

It is to be regretted that illustrations of the above general principles are not permitted to be published.  Enough, however, has been disclosed to give the public a clue to many apparent mysteries in regard to precipitated letters, and to draw all earnest and sincere inquirers strongly to the path of spiritual progress, which alone can lead to the comprehension of occult phenomena.