I have certain things to say to the world. At present you are the only person who can act as amanuensis for me. This is neither my fault nor yours. The question before us is not whether I want the letters written, or even whether you want to write them, but whether they will be beneficial to the world. I think they will. You think they may be. B---- thinks that they are not only immensely valuable, but unique. So-and-so and So-and-so have doubts and fears. I cannot help that, nor can you. Bless their hearts! Why should they be so anxious to bolt the doors behind me? I shall certainly not try to run their affairs for them from this side. They are equal to their job, or they would not be able to hold it. But this is quite a different job which I have given myself, and you have kindly consented to help me. You may not get much reward for your labour, save the shake of the wiseacres’ heads and their superior smiles, and the suggestion of the more scientifically inclined that I am your own “subconscious mind.” I shall not be offended by that hypothesis, nor need you. Of course you are not worried, for if you were I could not write. Your mind has to be placid as a lake on a windless night in order for me to write at all. Give my love to them. LETTER XXIV FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE I HAVE been doing many things of late. You could never imagine where I went the other day--to the great funeral of the Emperor of Japan. You could not go from Paris to Japan and return in so short a time, could you? But I did. An hour before starting I did not even know that the Emperor of Japan was dead. The Teacher sought me out and invited me to go with him. He said that something would occur there which I ought to see. His prophecy was verified. I saw a soul, a great soul, go out as a suicide. It was sad and terrible. But as I write this the Teacher comes and stands beside me; he advises me to say no more on that subject. One sees horrible things out here, as well as beautiful things. I can only say with regard to suicide, that if men knew what awaits those who go out by their own hand, they would remain with the evil that they know. I am sorry I cannot tell you more about this, for it would interest you. The testimony of an eye-witness is always more convincing than the mere repetition of theories. The appearance of the Teacher with his advice has put out of my mind for the moment the desire to write. But I will come again. _Later._ I have been able to do what you so much desired--to find the boy who came out accidentally by drowning. As you looked at his photograph, I saw it through your eyes, and carried away the memory of the face. I found him wandering about, quite bewildered. When I spoke to him of you and said that you had asked me to help him, he seemed surprised.