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 be one that man has been, still is, and hereafter will be, intromitted to this sacred labyrinth of knowledge, under certain conditions yet unknown to us. And yet man is a free-acting being. Bye-and-bye the sleep is ended, and we return to outer, every-day life. The soul's magazines have been stored full of the needful energies, both for itself and body; and it can at will, and sometimes by the action of a power lying back of volition, send forth these fiery elements to warm up and invigorate the outer self, as occasion may demand. Thus comes the blush of love, the inspiration of song, and acting, the fire and energy of speech and oratory, the flames of lust and passion, the brutal vigor of the athlete and pugilist, the blaze of anger, and the sudden and awful courage and ferocity of those who, at other times, are poltroons and errant cowards. Of course, some people accumulate more of this fire than others, and some are more sensitive to its action—even when it is quiescent—than less fine organizations possibly could be; and these very sensitive persons will, from the effect this accumulated power has upon them, tell you more of an individual's character from a half hour's association, than others could after a dozen years of intimacy, for they come in almost direct rapport with the soul itself, with something of which the "sphere" is charged; whereas those who are not so sensitive must base their verdict on what they see and hear,—the others, on what they feel and know. This fact is beginning to be well known; but there is a consideration arising out of it of vast importance. It is this: Those who are most sensitive are the very ones who absorb deepest of those energies. They draw it in