Roger glanced down at his clothes to discover that he was wearing a pair of flannel trousers and a brown jacket, while on his feet were a pair of substantial shoes. He caught hold of the material as though to reassure himself that it was real. He even clutched his arm to make doubly sure he was solid! Then he placed one foot on the floor and stamped lightly with it.
‘All pretty solid, eh, Roger?’
From a side-table Ruth fetched a huge bowl of fruit, and offered it to the boy. ‘You’ll find these very real, too,’ said she with a smile; ‘help yourself to what you fancy. They’re lovely, and will do you a world of good. We keep them “specially”.’
We all three took some fruit, and Ruth and I waited until the boy tackled his. First, he looked at it closely, turning it and over in his hand—it was a plum he was examining—and seemed undecided what to do with it. There is, of course, only one thing to do with a fine, juicy plum, especially if it is grown in the spirit world, and that is to eat it. Ruth and I did so, while Roger watched closely to see what would happen. He expected, no doubt, to see a torrent of juice run out and down our clothes. His eyes opened in astonishment when saw the juice run out, certainly, and with equal certainty, disappear, leaving our clothes unstained. Thus encouraged, he followed our example, and was wild with delight at this seeming wizardry.
‘Nothing is wasted here, Roger,’ explained Ruth; ‘everything that is unwanted returns to its source. Nothing is destroyed. You couldn’t destroy anything however hard you tried. If you find you no longer need or desire a thing it will simple fade away to all appearances, just evaporate before your eyes. But it is not lost; it will return to the source from which it came. If we didn’t want this house and all its contents, it would vanish, and there would be nothing to see but the ground it stood on. It’s the same with anything else you care to name. All things are living in the spirit world; we don’t have such things as “inanimate objects”. Things are managed better here than on the old earth, don’t you think—from the tiny bit you’ve seen of things so far?’
Roger thanked Ruth for her explanation. He seemed a diffident in the matter of speaking, though, of course Ruth had recommended him not to talk too much yet. However, he turned to me after pondering Ruth’s words, with something of an air of puzzlement:
‘Were you a bishop, or something?’ he asked.
‘Oh dear, no,’ I laughed; ‘nothing so grand or exalted. You were going by the color of this garment I’m wearing. No, I was only Monsignor when I was on earth. Some of my friends there still call me by the old title. It pleases them, and does no harm, though really we have no such titles and distinguishing marks here. Still, if you would like to use the same name, do so by all means. It serves a useful purpose, and it’s not “against the regulations”. Ruth always uses it.’
Here I would like to interpolate one or two observations which I think it expedient to make. What I am setting down for you is the account of an actual case, a real occurrence, though it is typical of many. The young lad, Roger, is a person of real existence, who came into the spirit world in the circumstances precisely as I am now giving you.
Again: exception may be taken to the conversation as I have recounted it to you. There are folk who will object that the whole of it is too appallingly flippant and trivial to merit consideration for one moment; that it is frivolous and third-rate, and such as would not, most certainly not be indulged in in any region that could be properly designated ‘heaven’; that ‘heaven’ must surely be conducted upon lines far less commonplace and far more holy and spiritual.
It may be complained that anyone making ‘the awful change’ from life to death and from death to eternal life - ‘supernatural’ life - would have far graver things to think about and discuss than the conversational fripperies which I ‘allege’ take place.
With a long experience of transitions upon which to draw, commencing with my own, I know this beyond peradventure: when the last earthly breath has been drawn, and life has begun in the spirit world, there is never the slightest inclination, at that vital moment, to think in terms of learned theological disquisitions or indulge in any ‘pious platitudes’.
Every soul who arrives in these or other realms of the spirit world completely untutored about life here, is concerned with one thing and one thing only: what is to happen next? Just that. Because we are inhabitants of the spirit world we have not become grand rhetoricians, who speak only in long eloquent periods upon matters of the highest spiritual consideration. Deo gratias that we do not. We are normal, rational people, who speak and act in a normal, rational manner.
Suppose Ruth and I, in taking charge of Roger, had adopted a grave comportment and grim countenances, what do you imagine would have happened both to him and us? The lad would have been terrified, where, in good truth, no grounds for fear existed, and all for what purpose? Merely so that Ruth and I should appear and act as misguided folk believe we should appear and act, as became inhabitants of the world of spirit.
And what would have happened to Ruth and me? We should have been adjudged totally unfitted for the occupation we had adopted, and at once sent upon our way - in disgrace. However, such a thing could never transpire, since we should not be entrusted with this work were we to harbor such unthinkable notions. So it is, my dear friends, that in our conversation with Roger, as with thousands of others upon whom we have attended, we are just ourselves. After all, this is a world of life and activity and truth, not a sham, shadowy, sanctimonious mockery of existence. How glad we all are that it is so! We prefer our form of ‘heaven’ to the strange conception current in some quarters on earth. Now to return to my narrative.
Roger had felt tempted to rise from his couch, a sure sign that he was gaining in strength and vigor. The fruit had made an improvement, as we knew it would. In matters of that kind there are no failures. At the same time, it would not have done to let him test his strength too far, and so for the time being, we recommended he should remain where he was. He was - and of course, still is! - a most amiable fellow, and was ready to fall in with all our suggestions. In such cases as these, that is, in the initial moments of the newly arrived, so much depends upon the little incidents, those homely things, of great implication in themselves, and outwardly so very reassuring - and comforting.
Long experience has taught us that often the smallest, most insignificant incident can do far more to bring peace and mental quietude to the newcomer to spirit lands than would a hundred of the most brilliant dissertations. Therefore, it is that we deliberately introduce the apparently trivial. And I cannot do better to exemplify this than by recounting what next occurred in our care of Roger.
The boy suddenly turned his gaze towards the window, attracted by the sound of fluttering wings upon the window-ledge, when he perceived a small bird had made its entrance into the room, and had perched itself only a foot or so from him. Roger remained perfectly still, as though scarcely daring to move lest he should frighten the small visitor away. Ruth, however, called to the bird, which immediately flew to her and perched upon her outstretched finger. The bird was dressed in a smart livery of pale gray feathers.
Roger was greatly interested when Ruth transferred the bird to his own finger.
‘He often visits us here,’ I told him, ‘though he really belongs to two old earth friends of mine.’
‘Then what is he doing here?’ asked Roger.
‘Well, he was found by my friends in great distress when he was but a fledgling; they cared for him, watched him grow, but sad to say, he came to grief. Possibly he became a trifle too daring, overdid things, had some sort of sudden seizure, and died almost at once. A great pity. He was like you, Roger, and had hardly begun his life. And exactly like you, Roger, he passed into these beautiful lands, and was cared for immediately, just as we try to do for all the human souls who come to us. That small bird, so very inconsiderable on earth, and the action of my two friends, equally inconsiderable, have not been lost. Their affection for that tiny atom of life has preserved that life for all time. At present, he is part of the “household” of a mutual old friend, who already has other bird and animal friends of his own.