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would lose his life shall save it.' You may have often asked yourself: 'Shall I succeed?' If you do not, with your exalted spirit circle, the fault will be entirely your own. in the universe can put me down but myself. Enemies can never defeat us. They often benefit us, by holding up our faults to public gaze: thus seeing them, they disgust us; and we forsake the wrong.
The worst real enemies we have are within our own nonunfolded natures. Hence, he that conquers himself is greater in the eyes of angels than he who conquers cities, or wears kingly crowns. Accordingly, what are frequently termed defeats are eternal victories, and are so registered in heaven. Saplings would like to be oaks, without the pressure of wintry winds or snows. I have wished to stand on John's plane, without treading the rugged road of study, effort, and self-sacrifice that have made him an angel; but how childish the wish! Your dear angel guide, you know; in me, too, you will ever find a brother's hand, a brother's heart, and a brother's love, joying in your joys, and weeping in your tears. Added to these, my soul's desire is that you may ever have the approbation of your own conscience in every thought, plan, deed, act.
“ Yes, Charlie, you will certainly succeed in every worthy undertaking of life. Every good deed done, every virtuous and beautiful seed sown, will surely germinate and ripen. I shall succeed, even though I walk through peril, poverty, and persecution. Then let us take heart, and be happy. “We walk the wilderness to-day; the promised land to-morrow.'
“Good morning, brother,
"J. M. PEEBLES." When it was generally known that Mr. Peebles had chosen young Dunn for his traveling companion as a medium in the ministry, there was a great cry against him in fashionable circles: “Your master eateth with publicans and sinners!” The Orthodox spoke of it very eloquently, trying to weep big tears, but failed, saying,
“What a shame! - Well, he's a Spiritualist! the legitimate fruits of his teachings,— scapegoats and harlots for com
Even some of his own friends, catching the contagion, apprehensive that Spiritualism might react into disgrace, warned and entreated him “not to make so much of that medium." His prompt reply was,
"I am pledged to stand by him till death; and all the powers in earth and hell can not sever this sympathy. It is spiritual and will be abiding.”
The pupil now earnestly entered upon a new mode of life, and though the “flesh was weak," his spirit had caught a glimpse of better things, and so he struggled bravely to walk the rugged path which winds up the steep ascents into a purer air. His angel guides stood as helpers, strengthening all good resolves, sounding notes of warning when temptation assailed; but they exercised no arbitrary restraint over the young man's life. If redeemed at all, the redemption must come through liberty. They sometimes mortified him — for he was excessively vain — and they indirectly baffled him in many of his impolitic schemes. Mr. Peebles heartily entered into cooperation with the arisen teachers, and exercised over his charge all the fatherly care and solicitude which any parent could extend toward an erratic son.
For many years Mr. Peebles had suffered from weak lungs, one of which was nearly wasted away, leaving a considerable cavity in his chest. Consumption had unmistakably set her seal upon him. About this time young Dunn became subject to the control of a band of “healers," chief of whom was Powhattan, and through their magnetic art his lungs were comparatively restored, and his wonderful system renovated into vigorous action. Those healing spirits turned his dial back more than ten degrees, and promised him a “long pilgrimage on earth lands."
Powhattan had control of the medicine bags, and used the medium's right hand (in a trance state) to select the right kind of medicine, giving Mr. Peebles directions in preparing it for the patient. The woods, fields, and gardens were their laboratories.
“The silent ministers of healing crowd
About the broken heart and spirit bowed,
Powhattan named Mr. Peebles “ Preach." One night he was quite ill; when this Indian, always on the alert, ordered medicine.
“Take times (three fingers), once great dark" (midnight).
Mr. Peebles objected, stating he could not wake at that hour.
“Me risk," was the reply: "me wake you," ordering him to put his watch on the table.
Just at midnight broke forth a voice, “ Preach! Preach! ! up get: time by the tick thing."
Rousing, he at first thought he had been dreaming; when it spoke again in his wakeful consciousness,
"Up get, Preach! tick thing, time up. Preach!”
Taking the medicine in hand, he drank a toast to the faithful spirit, and in a moment was locked in
“ Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."
During the healing and lecturing peregrinations, the uniform custom was, after retiring, to have the spirits entrance the medium. “Be not disturbed," said the spirits: “we know our own business.” Perfectly entranced, this medium would leave this physical form except by an invisible silver chord flickering over the silent body, Mr. Peebles holding the pulseless hand, the meantime deeply anxious lest death might rob its tenant. The spirits, taking the medium to lower planes, would teach him lessons of warning, and thence higher, into medical temples, instructing him in the laws of spiritual science and better modes of healing.
The true spiritual teacher is a physician of souls. The leaf is nourished by the root; so is the spirit world by our healthful conditions. The body is the crystal of spirit. Heal at the life springs. Bring the balm of an angel's love. This healing band, in cases of obsession, scattered the dark influences, regenerated the self-abandoned, brought wandering spirits into light. Being at Port Huron, Mich., Mr. Peebles was introduced to Dr. Hawkins, healing spirit for Dr. S. D. Pace, a successful physician, who purposely permitted several suicides to control him, that Mr. Peebles might address them from the earthly side to which they gravitated. With words of hope, tenderly he alluded to their early days under the paternal roof, to the moral uses of temptation resisted, closing with these words, “If you would be angels, you must seek to make others angels." They listened; and how hallowed was their joy!
The curative agencies for obsession are thus happily delineated by Mr. Peebles in one of his late pen productions:
“ Kindness and firmness, aspiration and self-reliance, pleasant physical, social, and mental surroundings, with gentle harmonizing magnetic influences from circles of exalted spirits, through noble, pure-minded media, — these are the remedies. Speak to the obsessing intelligences as men, brothers, sisters, friends; reason with them as members of a common Father's family; and at the same time, demagnetizing the subject, bring a healthier, purer magnetism, and calmer, higher, and more elevating influences to the patient's relief. This was Jesus' method; it should be ours."
Throughout his public career our brother has extended sympathy, charity, and helpful counsel to all who have appealed to him in their sorrow. He has a tender, forgiving heart, and an unfaltering faith in the innate goodness of the human nature. He has never hesitated to minister to the least and lowest for redemptive purposes. He saw no reason why he should refuse to succor the outcast, counsel the wrongdoer, lift up the falling, mingle his tears with the sorrowing, and extend hope to the despairing, since the Christ extended his compassionate pity to all these unfortunate ones. There
is “joy in Heaven” when an erring mortal is reclaimed. The Infinite tenderness extendeth to every creature.
None were abandoned of God. So our brother, when he found this young man drifting toward the maelstrom of vice and crime, threw about him his protecting shield, reclaimed his life, and restored him to a form of manhood by which he has rendered some useful service in the world.
Dr. E. C. Dunn, now an influential and wealthy citizen of Rockford, Ill., is a member of the city council, and enjoying a vigorous old age.
“Men call me ‘Love' when bending down
I kiss the tears from Sorrow's face,
Of judgment to a smile of grace;
The weak man's burden to the strong.
- James G. Clark.