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 first time, that I was being practically educated by a glorious being—an inhabitant of the Soul-world—whose presence was now made clear, direct and palpable. This bright one conversed with me by a process not easily explained, but an idea of which may be gained if we call it infusion of thought. His lips moved not, and yet the full meaning he intended, was transmitted, even more perfectly than if by the use of words. Such beings can speak, but not so effectively as by the silent language. The object of his visit, he said, was to instruct me in certain essentials with reference to future usefulness on my part, but principally that the world might gain certain needed light upon the soul, and its career, through a book or books thereafter to be written. His name, he said, was —that, in history, he was best known as Thothmes, or Thotmor, and that he was an Egyptian, of the second dynasty—a king, and the eleventh of the line. This was all I learned of him at that time; for after the brief introduction, he pointed toward the man upon the sofa, and bade me "Look!" The man was wrapt in deep sleep, and the winged globe within his head was rapidly altering its shape. First, it flattened out to a disk; this disc concaved toward the skull; then it put forth a point in the direction of the medulla oblongata, into which it rapidly passed, entered the spinal-marrow, and ran along the vertebras until it reached the vicinity of the stomach. Here it left, and instantly immerged itself within the solar plexus. The man was in a death-like, dreamless slumber. "The soul," said Thotmor, "has gone to infuse new life throughout the physical body, in doing which it also recuperates its own