I kissed my child. “Let me stay,” I pleaded; “I want to sit in my old place, in that vacant chair. Then I will go.” “As you will; and I will endeavor to impress your daughter with some ray of sunshine.” She bent over my daughter, and by means I did not understand, her mind responded to the spirit’s thoughts: “Your mother is with you, and retains the same affection for you she had in earth-life.” With the influx of that thought a smile lit up her face, and turning to the organ, she sang, “Annie Laurie,” a song we had often sung together. How thankful I was that one ray of sunlight gladdened her heart, and the memory of me was yet dear. I was grateful to the kind spirit who had assisted me, and then she said we must go, for the trial was too great for my strength. “You must calm yourself,” said my companion, “for this sorrow is without the least benefit. Believe it is for the best, and though the hour is dark, it will bring a perfect day.” “I can not prevent myself thinking of my children and my husband. My love for them is stronger than ever, and I could not have been persuaded to have left them for a day. Can I not, oh, good angel, remain with them? The fairest scene of your home is desolate compared to the earth!” With tenderest compassion she said: “You are now in the earth-sphere and take on its conditions. You are seeing through earthly eyes, and affected by earthly ways. When we once leave this scene you will be no longer distressed. Willingly would I leave you. I have no right to force you away. I influence you as I think for your highest good. Here you are unrecognized, and are constantly troubled because you can not make yourself known, and by a reflection of the sorrow of your family. Whenever you can be of use to them you will receive the knowledge and can return. Now we had better go.” She placed her arm around me, and whether the earth sank away from us, or we flow from the earth, I was unable to tell. I have since learned how to traverse space by the force of will; but then I was ignorant of the method, and dependent on others. Now, when I desire to visit a place, or be with certain friends, the desire creates an attraction, which in spirit is the equivalent of magnetic attraction in the physical world. When we again reached our spirit home our companions gathered around us, and I was soothed by the kind words of my mother. I felt condemned for my loss of interest in the earth-life which had so recently absorbed my mind, but it became like a dim dream, and ceased to trouble me. What if I should forget it entirely? I was appalled at the idea, and cried at the pang it gave. “Do not fear, you will not forget, but after a time your affections will strengthen. Our sister has much to learn, and needlessly distresses herself.”