Ruth was indignant that I should refer to him as in any sense common, and so I was compelled to recant—not for the first time since I came to the spirit world!
Roger was still playing with the bird, when Ruth espied two visitors coming towards the house. They were walking in leisurely fashion through the garden, often stopping to examine the flowers that were growing in profusion around the house. As they drew nearer, we recognized them as old friends who had often come to see us before. One, the taller of the two, was a Chaldean by nationality, the other an Egyptian.
I told Roger that not on any account was he to rise when these two visitors came into the room, as they both knew the purpose for which that couch was used, for it had had many and many a newly arrived person resting upon it.
Ruth and I went to the door to welcome our visitors, and cordial greetings were exchanged. The Chaldean’s name is Omar, by which he is universally known. He is a man of striking appearance, the most remarkable feature being his raven-black hair, so much in contrast with the slight pallor of his complexion. He is, without doubt, one of the merriest souls to be met with in these lands, and he has a wide reputation for his keen sense of humor.
‘Will you come in, Omar,’ I said, ‘and see our “patient”?’ He replied they would be delighted, and we moved two chairs nearer to the couch.
‘Well, my son, how are you feeling? Happy? Rested?’ Omar turned to us: ‘Roger is wondering who I am.
Perhaps he is wondering what I am.’
‘You see, Omar, you are really the first person he has seen wearing spirit clothes. Isn’t that so, Roger?’
‘Yes, it is, and well, I’m a bit confused. Your clothes,’ he said to Omar, ‘are so different from Monsignor’s.’
‘Different from those he is wearing now because he did not want to frighten you. You are not frightened of me, are you Roger? There’s no need to be, my dear son, for I’m really harmless, and my two friends— your two friends—will vouch for me. Perhaps you think I’m an angel! Well, that’s better than being thought a devil. Do you know, Roger, there are some charming people on earth who would call me one, yes, and you, too; in fact, all of us here! Do you think Ruth looks particularly satanic? Monsignor, now; there is certainly a hint of brimstone about him. Well, well, it’s a good thing we can laugh, though, mind you, those same nice people would deny us that. Speaking for myself, I don’t feel the least bit holy, and Monsignor is far too hardened a sinner ever to come within a mile of it.’
Omar turned to me: ‘I must be off now,’ said he, ‘give my love to my friends on earth.’ Then he took Roger by the hand, held it for a moment, and patted him on the cheek. ‘Bless you, my son,’ he said, ‘be rested, then get your friends to show you the glories of these lands. This is your own home land, now, you know. And just between ourselves, we’re rather proud of it.’
A First View
AS WE returned to the house after parting with Omar and his companion, we saw that Roger had left his couch and was now leaning out of the window. We waved to him, and he waved back.
‘It looks as though he’s completely regained his vigor,’ I remarked to Ruth.
‘There’s no doubt of it, I should say.’
‘And I should say what’s completed his “cure” is Omar’s visit. Did you notice how he held the boy’s hand? If that wasn’t charging him with vitality I’m much mistaken. Now isn’t that just like Omar.’
There was no question that a great change had been wrought in the lad for he stood in the doorway as we drew near with every appearance of youthful buoyancy. No longer was that slight languidness to be seen, so common in such cases.
‘Well, Roger,’ said Ruth, ‘you look ready for anything.’
‘That’s how I do feel, Ruth. Now, Monsignor, the old brain has got clear, and I want to know lots of things.’ He grasped an arm of each of us, and held us in a firm grip.
‘Omar certainly has given you strength, judging by the pressure,’ I observed. He laughed, and it was good to hear him, for it showed more than anything else could, that the lad was now clearly himself, and that our task thenceforward would be the simple one of introducing him to the wonders of the spirit world, always an enjoyable occupation, in spite of the fact that we had gone through a similar performance times without number.
‘Come along, my boy, and let’s start on the roof.’
‘On the roof? What on earth do we want to go climbing on the roof for?’
‘On earth, Roger, my lad, no reason at all. However, I know what you mean. Come along and wait till you get there before making any rude remarks about it. Now then, to the roof!’
We mounted the stairs to the upper floor. Here there is a passage, and about half-way along it is a small bay, in which a brief flight of stairs leads to a door onto a flat roof. Here was presented to the astonished gaze of Roger a most superb view of the countryside, a vast territory extending far away into the distance.
‘Now, Roger; cast your eyes over this. Did you ever see anything like it, or even remotely approaching it in beauty?’
The boy was silent for a minute or two as he turned in a full circle. ‘Gracious heavens,’ he said.
‘And that’s just about it,’ said Ruth, ‘those two words are a complete description, if ever there was one.’
‘Now, Monsignor, Ruth—I don’t care which of you—but one of you must tell me what all this is. All those people, for instance. What are they doing?’
We could see many people interspersed about the countryside, some close at hand, others at a distance; some in small groups, others in larger, and individuals either seated or walking alone.
‘All these folks you see are going about their various business, or perhaps no definite business at all. Look there at that little group sitting beneath the big tree. They may be doing all manner of things, from merely having a pleasant, gossipy chat among friends, or perhaps one of them is doing what Ruth and I are doing now for you - introducing you to the spirit world. Whatever it is all these folks are doing, no one will tell them they shouldn’t be doing it - and move them on!
‘Of absolute, positive idling, I don’t think you’ll find a trace, Roger, because no one, as far as I’ve been able to find out— and Ruth and I have poked about in all sorts of places—no one ever feels the slightest inclination to do nothing simply by virtue of an indolent nature. There are no indolent natures here. We are always occupied in some way, but that doesn’t mean that this is a life of eternal work as opposed to the old— and still current—idea of eternal rest. We all, every one of us, have our time off, and no one will come and tell us it’s time to start work again in the earthly sense. We have all the recreation we need and desire, and we come and go as we please. What Ruth and I are doing now, here on this roof, is a very pleasant form of recreation to us both, and a pleasant change from our chief occupation. It might look as though we were idling the time away—to anyone who didn’t know. But, you know, Roger, there are millions of us here— with no over-crowding either, as you can see—so that even as there’s plenty to do, there are plenty of people to do it.’
‘Well, that’s simple enough, Monsignor, but that makes me wonder what I’m going to do.’
‘Then stop wondering, my dear,’ put in Ruth. ‘Good gracious, why you’ve only just arrived here. Wait till you’ve been here as long as we have, then you’ll see there’s not always such a terrific hurry to be getting on with something.’
‘How long have you been here, then, Ruth?’
‘Oh, getting on for forty years.’
‘And