I awoke. The place was in one of the smallest rooms of the Sagum; it seemed not unfamiliar, although I had theretofore been only in the greater apartment. Mendocus sat by my side. There was a sense of having lost something; I knew not what, but the loss made me inexpressibly sad. I felt hampered, as if my freedom had contracted. Otherwise, too, I felt weak, as if long ill. But Mendocus put his hand over my eyes, and I slept.
I woke up. The room was one of the smallest in the Sagum; it felt somewhat familiar, even though I'd only been in the larger chamber before. Mendocus sat beside me. I had a sense of loss, though I couldn't pinpoint what I'd lost. The feeling left me incredibly sad. I felt restricted, as if my freedom had been limited. I also felt weak, as if I'd been sick for a long time. But Mendocus placed his hand over my eyes, and I fell asleep.
The next conscious moment came, and the weariness was gone, but not wholly so the sense of loss, of restricted freedom. It was one thing to lose prehension of memory and events; to have entirely forgotten Hesperus and Phyris, and Mol Lang and Sohma, as I had done; but it was a wholly different and impossible thing to forget or in any wise put away the growth of my soul during my five weeks of absence from the Earth. Yes, five weeks, for despite the seeming months in devachan, and the time in Pertoz, all but one part in a thousand of my time of absence had been spent in Hesperus. Five weeks of Earth time.
The next moment of awareness arrived, and the fatigue had vanished, though a lingering sense of loss and constraint remained. It was one thing to lose grip on memories and past events, to have completely forgotten Hesperus, Phyris, Mol Lang, and Sohma. But it was an entirely different and impossible matter to erase or disregard the growth my soul had experienced during my five-week absence from Earth. Indeed, five weeks had passed in Earth time, despite what seemed like months in devachan and the time spent in Pertoz. In reality, all but a fraction of my time away had been spent on Hesperus.
It would have been impossible for me to have remained in Pertoz and been happy. It would be impossible for you, my friends. Why? Because it was a plane of soul life so exalted above our familiar Earth that only growth can introduce the soul there, long, slow, ofttimes painful, but growth. To me, then, or to you now, irrevocable transference to such a high plane of life would be fearful punishment; all our ordinary powers of life, all our present selves put away, and an entirely different set of sensibilities and a new, unknown, untried self in their place, knowledge in the use of all which, amidst wholly strange phenomena and unlearned laws, the misplaced soul would have to acquire through long, unhappy years. It is a divine blessing to humanity that sudden transition from one plane to a higher is as impossible as is any real retrogression.
It would have been impossible for me to stay in Pertoz and be happy. The same would be true for you, my friends. Why? Because it was a level of spiritual existence so far above our familiar Earth that only growth can bring the soul there—long, slow, often painful growth. For me then, or for you now, permanent transfer to such a high plane of life would be terrible punishment. All our normal life abilities and our current selves would be set aside, replaced by an entirely different set of sensitivities and a new, unknown, untested self. The misplaced soul would have to learn to use these new abilities amidst strange phenomena and unfamiliar laws over many unhappy years. It's a divine blessing for humanity that sudden transition from one plane to a higher one is as impossible as any real regression.
I sat up, and then stood up, Mendocus assisting me, for I was weak and dizzy I remained at the Sach until several days had elapsed, learning of various occurrences and making various decisions and resolutions. Asking for Quong, I was told he was dead, and knowing now nothing of the past five weeks, I accepted the news with keen regret.
I rose to my feet with Mendocus's help, feeling weak and dizzy. I stayed at the Sach for several days, catching up on recent events and making important decisions. When I asked about Quong, I was told he had died. Having no memory of the past five weeks, I accepted this news with deep sorrow.
Mendocus told me that I was a man yet possessed of earthly appetites and passions, although I had lately been where humanity was of the heavenly order, as measured by terrestrial standards, where no sensuality ever invaded, although the people were not austere, nor was life there devoid of pleasure.
Mendocus explained that I still had human desires and emotions, even though I had recently been in a place where people were more spiritually advanced by earthly standards. In that realm, there was no sensuality, yet the inhabitants weren't overly strict, and life there still held joy.
I assented for the sake of courtesy, without knowing anything of whom or what he spoke, more than an untraveled commoner of a great city knows of interior Africa, He saw my ignorance and became silent.
I agreed politely, even though I had no idea who or what he was talking about. My lack of knowledge was as vast as that of a city dweller who's never left home trying to understand the depths of Africa. Noticing my confusion, he stopped talking.
His remarks about social sin I felt inapplicable to myself, for although I mingled with the people of this world, I did not sin in the meaning of the term as he applied it. Perhaps from environment I was not free, but free of these errors I was, and without any pharisaical self-praise.
I felt his comments about societal wrongdoing didn't apply to me. While I interacted with people from all walks of life, I didn't commit the kind of social transgressions he was referring to. My surroundings might have influenced me to some degree, but I was free from these particular faults. I say this not to boast, but as a simple statement of fact.
Speaking of the fallen, however, where was the really sweet noble girl I had tried to raise, and who, seconding my efforts, had gone to Melbourne? Life interests were again claiming me. The animal soul was reasserting itself, and warring as strongly as its feeble selfhood allowed with the human soul and the stirring spirit which cannot sin nor err, because it is one with the Over Soul, and so ever draws the human soul upward, whilst the animal pulls it downward.
Thinking about those who've passed, I wondered about the kind-hearted, noble girl I had mentored, who had supported my efforts and moved to Melbourne. Once again, I found myself drawn back to the concerns of daily life. My baser instincts were resurfacing, struggling as much as their weak sense of self allowed against my higher nature and the awakening spirit. This spirit, incapable of sin or error due to its connection with the universal consciousness, continually pulls the human soul upward, while our animal nature tries to drag it down.
Then said Mendocus to me:
Mendocus then said to me:
"Mr. Pierson, the sins thou dost condemn in thy fellow-creatures were once thine, and, if thou shalt condemn the doer, may become thine again. That thou judgest, thou art not past danger of committing.
"Mr. Pierson, the sins you condemn in others were once your own, and if you judge the sinner, you may fall into those same sins again. By passing judgment, you're not immune to committing those very acts yourself."
"Judge not, lest thou be judged. But in thine inner soul these past five weeks have placed a light, a lamp from God. Hide it not, but let it so shine that it give light to the Sinful who have no light. Pity them, deplore their error, but if thou condemn them thou wilt not follow Him who said 'neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more.'"
"Don't judge others, or you'll be judged yourself. But these past five weeks have given you insight, like a divine light within you. Don't hide it. Instead, let it shine to illuminate the path for those who have lost their way. Feel compassion for them, regret their mistakes, but remember: if you condemn them, you're not following the example of the one who said, 'I don't condemn you either. Go, and don't sin again.'"
Mol Lang had set a proper estimate on my powers in refusing to make irrevocable my ascent to the Hesperian plane. I had stood ready with the torch of desire to fire my earthly ships. If I could have known of my escape I would have felt thankful. As it was, Hesper was become an unmeaning name, and the ships were not burned. Pleased as a child I had gone to the devachanic plane, where all things that the child in experience desired, although it wished never so foolishly, seemed to occur. Now the child having confronted the sober fact that inexorable laws govern all the reign of being, had become stricken, broken-hearted at his failure; had returned to his own sphere, and, blessed mercy, was enabled to forget it all until such time as the five weeks' leaven had leavened the whole, and return was possible in the circumstances of one coming to his own. Friend, never assume the attitude of childishness toward the sublime--you may not escape as lightly as I did. Count the cost, or else plod along with the commonplace masses. Both roads lead to the goal, one short but inexpressibly severe, the other long, and, alas! quite severe enough. It is no paradox to say that the shortest road is the longest; life is not always measured by years--some lives are but a few short years--but oh, the bitternesses and not impossibly, sweets, too, crowded in them would require a thousand years of other and less marked lives to essay.
Mol Lang had wisely refused to make my ascent to the Hesperian plane permanent, recognizing my limitations. I had been eager to burn my bridges to Earth, but thankfully, I was spared that fate. Hesper became meaningless to me, and my earthly ties remained intact. Like a child, I had eagerly entered the devachanic plane, where every foolish desire seemed attainable. But when confronted with the harsh reality of immutable laws governing existence, I became disillusioned and heartbroken. I returned to my own sphere, mercifully able to forget the experience until I was ready to process it fully. Be cautious when approaching the sublime with a childlike attitude—you may not be as fortunate as I was. Consider the consequences carefully, or resign yourself to the path of the masses. Both routes lead to the same destination: one brief but incredibly difficult, the other long but still challenging enough. It's no contradiction to say the shortest path is often the longest. Life isn't always measured in years—some lives are brief, but the intense experiences, both bitter and sweet, packed into them might take a thousand years to unfold in less eventful lives.
Before I left the Sagum, Mendocus laid down esoteric rules for my guidance in the days to come, days when sole dependence must be stayed on my knowledge of these rules, since no esoterist would be near to counsel me,
Before leaving the Sagum, Mendocus gave me crucial instructions to follow in the future. These guidelines would be my only support in the coming days, as no expert in esoteric knowledge would be available to advise me.
"Mr. Pierson," said the grand old sage, "I have here a Bible. Lo! I have read it, the Old Testament, eighty-seven times; the New, even more times. Yet I see ever now beauties in the Book. I have here the Books of Manu, and also the Vedas. All are authorized by the Christ-Spirit, under different human names, truly, and in different ages. All are more or less allegorical; all require His Light to interpret; without it, serious errors may arise as they have arisen heretofore in the world with sad frequency and fearfully long lived persistency.
"Mr. Pierson," said the wise elder, "I have a Bible here. I've read the Old Testament 87 times and the New Testament even more. Yet I still find new beauty in it. I also have the Books of Manu and the Vedas. All are inspired by the Christ-Spirit, though under different names and from different eras. They're all somewhat symbolic and need His guidance to understand. Without it, serious misinterpretations can occur, as they have throughout history, often with long-lasting and dire consequences."
"I will therefore declare unto thee a guidance from them. Knock, and it shall be opened unto thee. But see thou knockest with the will of the Spirit, for although the mind knock, forever, the Way shall not be opened.
"I will share with you guidance from them. Ask, and you will receive an answer. But make sure you ask with genuine spiritual intent, for even if your mind persists endlessly, the path will remain closed without it."
"Ask, and it shall be given. But although the animal man ask ever, no answer shall be given, for this meaneth also except the request be made by the Spirit in thee for the Truths of God, and not for earthly things; these last follow as shade the sun.
Ask, and you will receive. However, even if a person constantly asks, they won't get an answer unless the request comes from their inner Spirit, seeking God's Truths rather than worldly things. These earthly matters naturally follow spiritual growth, just as a shadow follows the sun.
"Whatsoever is asked of the Father in the Christ's name, that shall He grant. But consider that asking in the name of the Christ is asking for the things of His Kingdom. With the gift of these things all lesser things shall be added, food, raiment and all else the body bath need for. This is hard for the natural mind to comprehend. He will not let thee perish though thou die of hunger.
Whatever you ask the Father in Christ's name, He will grant. But remember, asking in Christ's name means asking for things related to His Kingdom. When you receive these spiritual gifts, all lesser things will be provided, including food, clothing, and everything else your body needs. This concept is difficult for the human mind to grasp. Even if you were to die of hunger, He would not let you truly perish.
"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. This is karma and the law, and every jot of it must be fulfilled. Man is a creature of many incarnations, each earth life one personality, strung on the unbreakable string of his egoic individuality, which reacheth from everlasting to everlasting, from the East unto the West.
Whatever a person puts out into the world, they will receive back in kind. This is karma and the universal law, and every bit of it must be fulfilled. A person lives through many lifetimes, each earthly existence a distinct personality, linked together on the unbreakable thread of their core identity, which spans from the beginning of time to its end, from one side of existence to the other.
"No demand of karma may be ignored; all must be paid in the course of the lives.
Every karmic debt must be settled. All will be accounted for over the span of our lives.
"Then 'do unto others as thou wouldst be done by,' and remember, as thou doest unto the least of thy fellow creatures, in that manner and measure is it done unto our Savior, and unto the Father, and shall be done unto thee again.
"Treat others as you want to be treated, and remember, how you treat the most vulnerable among us is how you treat our Savior and God, and it will be returned to you in kind."
"Keep all the commandments; thou shalt so come to everlasting, where is all wisdom."
Follow all the commandments; by doing so, you will reach eternal life, where true wisdom resides.
That evening I went out of the sacred precincts and back to the town.
That night I left the holy grounds and returned to the city.
There I learned of things various. My mining partners were now willing to buy my share without further parley. From that sale I received approaching three hundred thousand dollars, paid in installments, seven quarterly payments of nearly forty-three thousand dollars gold coin, each one.
I gained diverse knowledge there. My mining partners were now ready to purchase my share without further negotiation. From that sale, I received close to three hundred thousand dollars, paid in seven quarterly installments of nearly forty-three thousand dollars each in gold coin.
The arrangement having been made for depositing these sums, as they fell due, with my bankers in Washington, D. C., I was overcome with a desire to travel; this and my ability to gratify it took me to nearly every civilized land. Yet no object except unrest prompted this nomadism.
After arranging for these payments to be deposited with my bankers in Washington, D.C., I was struck by an overwhelming urge to travel. This desire, coupled with my financial means to indulge it, led me to visit almost every developed country. However, my wanderlust was driven by nothing more than a sense of restlessness.
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Understood. I'll modernize the text between the <text> tags and respond only with the modernized version, preserving the meaning, tone, and paragraph structure while optimizing for readability. Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize.
Almost two years had passed since I left ------------ City, the scene of my esoteric experiences. I was in Norway, away from the wide, wide world, in a little hamlet close to a celebrated fjord, where I had arrived the previous day. My guide and general utility man spoke English sufficiently well to make himself readily intelligible. He proved to have been a sailor on the ship in which I took my first voyage, and had returned to his native land to minister to the wants of travelers, in which service his knowledge of Anglo-Saxon did him good stead. He was delighted to see me, a feeling which I reciprocated. His name? Certainly, Hans Christison.
Nearly two years had passed since I left ------------ City, where I had some unusual experiences. I was now in Norway, far from civilization, in a small village near a famous fjord. I had arrived just yesterday. My guide and all-around helper spoke English well enough to be easily understood. It turned out he had been a sailor on the ship I took for my first voyage. He had since returned to Norway to assist travelers, putting his English skills to good use. He was thrilled to see me, and I felt the same. His name? Hans Christison, of course.
Hans said that four or five other summer travelers were staying in the village, "One ish ein young leddy; she haf a crazy for paint und brushes--ish ein nardist, I think so."
Hans mentioned that four or five other summer visitors were staying in the village. "One is a young lady," he said. "She's obsessed with paint and brushes—I think she's an artist."
A week elapsed before I met this "purty leddy," and meantime Hans guided me, equipped with gun and fish rod, he rowing our light skiff. One afternoon I took the skiff and went off alone to a rock jutting out of the fjord, whereon grew several birch trees of graceful beauty. I tied the skiff, and then climbed out and sat down to read the letters forwarded to me from New York.
A week passed before I encountered this "pretty lady," and in the meantime, Hans acted as my guide. He rowed our lightweight boat while I carried a gun and fishing rod. One afternoon, I set out alone in the skiff to a rock that protruded from the fjord. The rock was adorned with several elegant birch trees. After securing the boat, I climbed onto the rock and settled down to read the letters that had been sent to me from New York.
While reading these I heard a little sound behind me as of some person else on the tiny island. Turning my head I saw a woman, and then I laid down my paper and sprang to my feet. I was too much surprised to raise my cap or even to speak, and she seemed equally astonished. Then I said the one word:
As I read, I heard a faint noise behind me, as if someone else was on the small island. I turned to see a woman, and immediately dropped my paper and jumped up. I was so shocked that I forgot to tip my hat or even speak, and she appeared just as surprised. Finally, I managed to utter a single word:
"Lizzie!"
"Lizzie!"
"Mr. Pierson!" she replied.
"Mr. Pierson!" she exclaimed.
"How came you here?" was our next exchange. I told her of my aimless wanderings, and she related her life since we parted in ------------ City. From Melbourne she had gone to New York and thence to Washington. There she bought a residence and established an art studio, assuming the name of Harland. People were told little and learned less of her antecedents, and were allowed to suppose that she was a young Australian widow of moderate wealth. Each of the two summers after her advent to life at the capital had been spent abroad, and this, the third summer, she was spending in Norway. Her pictures had sold well, and she had made up the entire sum which she had used from what she called my "loan." This she insisted on giving back to me, but I laughed, and tentatively agreed, saying, "Before I leave, if you insist." I stayed four weeks, there, stayed until I learned from a chance remark that she was going away in a few days for a little stay among the Scottish lakes. Then without saying anything to Mrs. Harland, I bade Hans take me by night to the steamer which visited the little port once a fortnight, and was then due, and going on board, paid Hans, adding a douceur. As the ropes were being cast off, I said:
"How did you end up here?" we asked each other next. I told her about my aimless travels, and she shared what she'd been up to since we parted in ------------ City. From Melbourne, she'd moved to New York and then Washington. There, she bought a house and set up an art studio, going by the name Harland. She kept her past vague, letting people assume she was a young Australian widow with a modest fortune. She'd spent her first two summers after moving to the capital abroad, and this third one she was spending in Norway. Her artwork had sold well, and she'd saved up enough to repay what she called my "loan." She insisted on giving it back, but I laughed it off, saying, "We'll see about that before I leave." I stayed for four weeks, right up until I overheard that she was planning a short trip to the Scottish lakes in a few days. Without telling Mrs. Harland, I asked Hans to take me to the steamer that visited the small port every two weeks. Once on board, I paid Hans with a little extra. As the ship was about to depart, I said:
"Hans, let the 'young leddy' know that I am gone; tell her, if she asks, I am going to St. Petersburg. Good bye, Hans."
"Hans, tell the young lady I've left. If she asks, let her know I'm heading to St. Petersburg. Goodbye, Hans."
To the Capital of the Czar I went, and was there a week.
I visited the Russian capital and stayed for a week.
Then back to Paris, then to London, and in another week I sailed for New York, thence to Washington.
I returned to Paris, then London, and a week later I sailed for New York before heading to Washington.
A year passed. One afternoon as I strolled up Pennsylvania Avenue, I carne face to face with Elizabeth Harland. We stopped, spoke, and then I turned and walked with her. The old surged over us; I remembered the days in California; then more tenderly, the peaceful month in Norway, when I had come to really believe I loved this girl, not only for her radiant beauty and sedately sweet womanhood, but for her tremendous effort to triumph over error, and her success, wherefore she was come forth from the fire, pure gold.
A year went by. One afternoon, while walking along Pennsylvania Avenue, I unexpectedly ran into Elizabeth Harland. We stopped to chat, and I decided to join her. Old feelings rushed back; I recalled our time in California, and then, more fondly, our peaceful month in Norway. It was then that I had truly believed I loved her, not just for her stunning beauty and gentle demeanor, but for her incredible determination to overcome her past mistakes. Her success in doing so had proven her to be of the finest character.
Before we parted I learned her address, and resolved to call as soon as an opportunity offered.
Before leaving, I got her contact information and decided to visit her at the first chance I had.
Next evening a bank messenger came to my apartments, and left a packet. It held two hundred bank notes of the value of one hundred dollars each, and a letter. This I opened hastily and read:
The following evening, a bank courier delivered a package to my apartment. Inside were two hundred $100 bills and a letter. I quickly tore open the envelope and read its contents.
Sept. 3rd, 1869.
September 3, 1869
"Mr. Walter Pierson:
<text>Walter Pierson:</text>
"Enclosed find the sum of my indebtedness to you, and accept my heartfelt gratitude for the same. And we will be friends; you are ever welcome to come to the home of
Here's the modernized version: Enclosed is the full payment of what I owe you. Please accept my sincere thanks for your kindness. Let's remain friends; you're always welcome in my home.
Your sincere friend,
Your true friend,
Elizabeth Harland."
Elizabeth Harland.
I pondered the situation, and when the moment of decision came made up my mind very suddenly. The money which she had returned I put into my pocketbook, took my hat and, being in proper attire, went down the street until I found a cab. Entering this, I gave directions to the driver to take me to No. --, -------- Street.
I thought about the situation, and when it was time to decide, I made up my mind quickly. I put the money she had returned into my wallet, grabbed my hat, and since I was already dressed appropriately, I walked down the street until I found a cab. I got in and told the driver to take me to No. --, -------- Street.
It was a pretty place. When I rang the bell it was answered by Mrs. Harland herself. Her manner was cordial, but I fancied somewhat constrained.
It was a charming spot. When I pressed the doorbell, Mrs. Harland answered in person. She greeted me warmly, but I sensed a hint of unease in her demeanor.
On the wall of the parlor hung a picture of rare merit. A man whose face and mien was as expressive of divinity as it lies in the power of paint and brush to depict, stood looking on a woman whose face was hidden by her hands. In the dust at his feet were characters written. The environment was that of the architecture of the Holy Land. Under the painting, which was half life size, were the words, "St. John, VII:11."
A remarkable painting adorned the parlor wall. It depicted a man with a face and demeanor that exuded divine presence, as vividly as paint and brush could capture. He stood gazing at a woman whose face was concealed behind her hands. At his feet, writing was visible in the dust. The setting evoked the architecture of the Holy Land. Below the half-life-size painting, an inscription read, "St. John, VII:11."
I sat down in a proffered chair, and for a moment silence reigned. My hostess broke this, saying:
I took a seat in the offered chair. For a moment, no one spoke. Then my hostess broke the silence, saying:
"You received the money, Mr. Pierson?"
"Did you get the money, Mr. Pierson?"
"Yes." I drew it out of my pocket and following my resolve, and waiving all prefatory remarks, I said:
"Yes." I pulled it from my pocket and, sticking to my decision, without any introduction, I said:
"Except you give me yourself with this money, I will not take it out of the house. Will you be my wife, Elizabeth?" I asked as I knelt by her side.
"Unless you agree to marry me along with this money, I won't take it from the house. Elizabeth, will you be my wife?" I asked, kneeling beside her.
Her eyes gazed into mine a moment, and she said.
She looked into my eyes briefly and said,
"For myself, because you love me, and veil the past with the success of the present?" tears in her eyes, tears in her voice as she spoke.
"Is it because you care for me now that you're willing to overlook my past mistakes?" she asked, her voice trembling and eyes welling up with tears.
"Yes, darling!"
"Yes, darling!"
With a convulsive sob she rested in my arms, and cried as if her heart would break. At length she said, tremulously.
She collapsed into my arms with a shuddering sob, crying uncontrollably. After a while, she spoke in a shaky voice.
"All the world is less worth than this true love."
"Nothing in the world is more valuable than genuine love."
Our wedding was quiet, and after it we went for a brief trip abroad, going only to England, and in a short time returned home.
We had a small, intimate wedding ceremony. Afterwards, we took a quick honeymoon to England before returning home.