ey
ceased to question him further, and presently left him. Similarly, a
spirit who in this world had been a 'prelate and a preacher,' and 'very
pathetic, so that he could deeply move his hearers,' got no hearing
among the spirits of a certain earth in the starry heavens; for they
said they could tell 'from the tone of the voice whether a discourse
came from the heart or not;' and as his discourse came not from the
heart, 'he was unable to teach them, whereupon he was silent.'
Convenient thus to have spirits and angels to confirm our impressions of
other men, living or dead.

Apart from the psychological interest attaching to Swedenborg's strange
vision, one cannot but be strongly impressed by the idea pervading them,
that to beings suitably constituted all that takes place in other worlds
might be known. Modern science recognises a truth here; for in that
mysterious ether which occupies all space, messages are at all times
travelling by which the history of every orb is constantly recorded. No
world, however remote or insignificant; no period, however distant--but
has its history thus continually proclaimed in ever widening waves. Nay,
by these waves also (to beings who could read their teachings aright)
the future is constantly indicated. For, as the waves which permeate the
ether could only be situated as they actually are, at any moment,
through past processes, each one of which is consequently indicated by
those ethereal waves, so also there can be but one series of events in
the future, as the sequel of the relations actually indicated by the
ethereal undulations. These, therefore, speak as definitely and
distinctly of the future as of the past. Could we but rid us of the
gross habiliments of flesh, and by some new senses be enabled to feel
each order of ethereal undulations, even of those only which reach our
earth, all knowledge of the past and future would be within our power.
The consciousness of this underlies the fancies of Swedenborg, just as
it underlies the thought of him who sang--

There's not an orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim.
But while this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.

V.

_OTHER WORLDS AND OTHER UNIVERSES._

If any one shall gravely tell me that I have spent my time idly in
a vain and fruitless inquiry after what I can never become sure of,
the answer