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The languages called dead have certain roots which push themselves up through the memory-soils of the mind and bear fruit after death. Those who have passed on continue for a long time to speak the tongue of their earth-life.2 Most people think that after death "all is different with the individual." There was never a greater mistake. There are no essential changes in the plan of ultimates. The final type of organisation is the spiritual interior of man and woman. Both reason and intuition sustain the doctrine of no essential change after death. If man's body falls, in sympathy with the chemistry and gravitation of the physical world, the spiritual man does not fall with it. Only the external casing is peeled off, while the personal-inmost goes onward—unchanged and individualised—to the Summer Land. In order to realise that the other world is truly a "home in the heavens" we must grasp the naturalness of the after-life. Earthlings will not be orphans or strangers there. I must know and recognise my acquaintances—and they must recognise and know me—or immortality is nothing. Now, the after-existence opens before us as a continuation

1 See Morning Lectures, pp. 377-404.
2 Compare, however, Beyond the Valley, p. 255. The question is: How do spirits converse? It is answered by saying: Vocal discourse is an invention of intellect. Speech is spiritual only when it flows from the inmost emotions. For these feelings there are no possible sounds, and there is no written language.

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of individual progression; in another mansion, another story of the same house "eternal in the heavens." The heavens are not remote. The Summer Land is neither more nor less in the heavens than is this earth on which we at present reside. The mind of man is stationed over his visceral organs, but it maintains a constant communication with all parts of his body. In like manner, the Second Sphere is so situated with reference to this earth that we float under the constant inspection of its population. The earth is analogous to an organ in the physiology of the sidereal system, and the celestial brain, which is the Summer Land, crowns all the system, just as the mind of man covers and crowns the different organs within the trunk.

Perfected earthly languages, carried to their ultimates, become the language of the other sphere1; but education still sways mind and thought. The second language used in the higher world is the Language of Music. Truths and beauties of science, high and glorious lessons in celestial principles are communicated by means of symphonies, melodies, songs, hymns, anthems and chants. This wondrous music fills the whole heaven and awakens echoes among distant planets. When the stars are summoned to enter the orchestra and make the magnificent chorus full, then earth itself seems to vibrate responsively to that grand harmonious beat which converts the universe into a harp of infinite perfection. The third language used in the higher world is what we call here the Language of the Heart—more properly the Language of Emanation.2 Every private affection throws out an

1 This is presumably on the ground that language is, in the Davis terminology, an element of spirit, an idea and a principle which is as boundless as Nature's empire.—The Great Harmonia, Vol. V, p. 69.
2 It is said in another place that the inhabitants of the Second Sphere—and it would seem that the statement applies generally and not to a particular department or state—do not converse vocally but immerse their thoughts in one another by radiating them upon the countenance. Thought enters the spirit by a process of breathing, or is—more correctly

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atmosphere. Whatever your predominating love may be it emits an atmosphere which winds itself about your person. When the temperament is fine, sensitive, susceptible, the odour and influence will correspond. In the Summer Land this Language of the Heart is carried to an inconceivable degree of perfection, and is the only medium of communication in the higher spheres. It is the language of absolute contact, of personal love-atmospheres—by which is meant that two persons meeting face to face meet also heart to heart, and are friends for ever. On earth it is but hands or eyes or lips that touch and speak; there it is the sweet and perfect meeting of soul with soul. Souls inhale and understand each other. There sweeps through the heart the satisfaction of perfect appreciation of the wisdom of brother, sister or companion. Your secret history is told wordlessly and is for ever known. The details of your earth-life are understood, with all their bearings on your character. The steps are also comprehended that have brought you to your present position in the upper existence. Such confirmation constitutes the happiness which diversifies and exalts the inhabitants of the spheres.

This interior, unspeakable language is sometimes called the Language of Communion—which poets try in vain to reach, which music nearly approaches, with its unsearchable attributes. When your love is warmest and deepest you catch the rudiments of this celestial conver-

—introduced by influx, according to the desires of those conversing. They perceive thought by and through the eyes, inasmuch as the latter—like the general countenance—are an index to the quality and interior of the workings.—See A Stellar Key to the Summer Land, pp. 189, 190. It is added that they appear also to hear each other converse, but it is owing to a previous knowledge of sound, by which words are distinguished and their meaning apprehended. The hypothesis is, however, that intercommunication is not vocal, from which it follows that there are no sounds, and Davis is probably failing to express his real meaning. The kind of language intimated is apparently that of man at the beginning of his physical evolution, for which see ante, pp. 63-65.

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sation—so exalting to all who dwell under its blessings in the Summer Land. Let it be affirmed once more that words are not the most eloquent expressions of the soul. There is no joy so intense as that which sparkles in the eye and crimsons the cheek, yet refuses the aid of the voice. There is also "no grief like that which does not speak." There is a mental electricity more mysterious far than the subtile fluid that thrills through material substances. Pleasant indeed is the solitude which is broken only by this silent speech.1 The speech of spirits drops upon the internal tympanum like music from over the sea.2 The words are distinct as bugle notes, but they affect the mind as childhood's kisses do the lips, leaving a sweet presence and benefaction behind them. Words of wisdom spoken by angel lips exceed the melody of all earthly music. If you can fancy the voice of silvery streams flowing over cascades of golden sunbeams, or the throbbing of deathless joys through roseate chambers of the pure heart, you may conceive somewhat of spirit voices, as heard by such as have ears to hear.3

We know not how radiantly beam the countenances of those who converse wholly in the language of the soul. It is the most expressive and least demonstrative. The griefs and cares of the heart, its fairest flowers and saddest experiences, tremble together in the crystal chalice of pure speech. The voice of a spirit is like the spirit of truth, most eloquent when manifested in deeds, for thus do highest intelligences communicate their thoughts to those beneath them.

1 It should be mentioned that according to an incidental testimony of Davis, he was in the habit of communicating personally with spirits after (1) an inward way, in which soul spoke to soul; and (2) after the normal mode of physical speech, when he was answered in the same manner.—See The Present Age and the Inner Life, p. 125.
2 See Answers to Ever-Recurring Questions from the People, pp. 72, 73.
3 The reference is to intercommunication between disembodied spirits and those on earth. Later on it is the communing of disembodied spirits one with another.

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The universal speech of spirits is an elemental outburst of the internal, a langauge of thought and feeling, taking the form of that language with which the guest is most familiar. For example, on entering the Land of Spirit the native Portuguese will imagine that those with whom he converses speak only his own language. The modus loquendi must be universal in the other sphere. It takes the form of any tongue and so establishes immediate fellowship, whatever the nationalities on earth. Finally, inasmuch as spirits are transparent in respect of their thoughts and affections, they can never say one thing and mean another.1

1 Op. cit. y p. 75.