regretted that his communications were unintelligible, on account of the
superior wisdom which they might be supposed to contain.

I confess, I cannot recall the part I played in what would have been a
pitiable farce, if it had not been so terribly tragical, without a
feeling of utter shame. Nothing but my profound sympathy for the
thousands and tens of thousands who are still subject to the same
delusion could compel me to such a sacrifice of pride. Curiously enough,
(as I thought _then_, but not now,) the enunciation of sentiments
opposed to my moral sense--the abolition, in fact, of all moral
restraint--came from my lips, while the actions of Miss Fetters hinted
at their practical application. Upon the ground that the interests of
the soul were paramount to all human laws and customs, I declared--or
rather, _my voice_ declared--that self-denial was a fatal error, to
which half the misery of mankind could be traced; that the passions,
held as slaves, exhibited only the brutish nature of slaves, and would
be exalted and glorified by entire freedom; and that our sole guidance
ought to come from the voices of the spirits who communicated with us,
instead of the imperfect laws constructed by our benighted fellow-men.
How clear and logical, how lofty, these doctrines seemed! If, at times,
something in their nature repelled me, I simply attributed it to the
fact that I was still but a neophyte in the Spiritual Philosophy, and
incapable of perceiving the truth with entire clearness.

Mr. Stilton had a wife,--one of those meek, amiable, simple-hearted
women whose individuality seems to be completely absorbed into that of
their husbands. When such women are wedded to frank, tender, protecting
men, their lives are truly blessed; but they are willing slaves to the
domestic tyrant. They bear uncomplainingly,--many of them even without a
thought of complaint,--and die at last with their hearts full of love
for the brutes who have trampled upon them. Mrs. Stilton was perhaps
forty years of age, of middle height, moderately plump in person, with
light-brown hair, soft, inexpressive gray eyes, and a meek, helpless,
imploring mouth. Her voice was mild and plaintive, and its accents of
anger (if she ever gave utterance to such) could not have been
distinguished from those of grief. She did not often attend our
sessions, and it was evident, that, while she endeavored to comprehend
the revelations, in order to please her husband, their