“Why don’t you stay on?” he asked presently. “I can reach you, but not so definitely for a while to your sense, and actual speech with you is keen joy. Tell ~Dad~ ...”—the erasure is his own—“... the family I want to talk to them, too. Let’s have a reunion. One that won’t leave me out. I want to _be in_.” Rapidly and strongly, he underlined the last words three times. His mother promised that the family festivals should be held again, in the full consciousness that he was there with them. “Thank you, Mother dearest. You don’t know how we hate being left out.” When she explained that they were “left out” ignorantly, rather than intentionally, he continued: “No, we know you don’t mean to leave us out. But you—and we, too—would be so much happier if you knew we were there and we could know you were not grieving. You see, we are really nearer to you than you are to each other, and only memory tells us why you grieve. There is no reason for grief in what you call death and we call knowledge.” “Why hasn’t all this been told to us before?” she demanded. “It was cruel not to let us know it!” “As I wrote you the other day, not everybody has been prepared for the knowledge. It is known only to the few—those first over the top I spoke of. But it will be the next great revelation. As well say it was cruel not to have known chloroform in the Middle Ages, when it was sorely needed, or wireless telegraphy in the Napoleonic wars. There is an evolution of soul, as well as of biology and chemistry. Many fine souls have still lacked this peculiar preparation.” This started a little discussion between us. One said that many persons had lost faith in the orthodox religions, thus making the need of a new revelation great. Another spoke disparagingly of the modern theory of a pervasive and impersonal energy, from which we come and to which we return, losing individuality. At this point Frederick took the lead again. “Don’t you let them fool you! There is no such thing as Bergson’s stream of energy, unless every individual of us is a well-defined drop in the stream. That is all a philosopher’s dream, coated with poetry and tinctured with science.” Mrs. Gaylord said she had never heard of Frederick’s reading Bergson, and I mentioned that I had read nothing of his, except one article in a review. “I never read Bergson, either, but you could not live in the world, or pick up a Sunday supplement, some years ago, without encountering that stream of energy.” “There speaks the newspaper man!” his mother said, laughing. During all these talks with Frederick he had frequently made the little retraced circle, which we had been told meant joy. He made it again now, with vigor, and some one suggested that he seemed excited. “Wouldn’t it excite you to get into actual touch with your family, after long doubt and pain? I am no angel, you know, and thank God I am not above being excited. When I am I _will_ be dead!” Again he underscored a word.