He began soon, in his difficulty, to read up the countless Oriental cases of prenatal memory. There, in the East, souls that have been parted by bodily death are reunited in another shape, and know each other and are happy. There the great facts of life, of that shadowy fallacy that we call death, are clearly known and understood. But here we are still driven by phantom fears, and troubled by that which has no real existence except in our own weakened imaginations. Our memories are too closely trammelled by false teaching, too little practised and experienced, to pass intact across the blank interval of physical death. At the best it is only an occasional glimpse we carry on into another life, and even so those glimpses come but rarely, and fade as our earthly life advances to maturity again. More people have these glimpses, it is true, than ever dare to acknowledge them; but they are little understood and never fairly made use of. It is to the East we must go to see how little account the trained soul makes of physical death. There, through innumerable ages, the light has been seen, and memory has been educated from hour to hour and from day to day until at last the soul finds it as easy to recall the events of a hundred years ago as those of last night or this morning. Kingston studied the many cases that the Eastern Gospel gives us, and which Western science is just beginning to discern anew. Always he hoped against hope that they would give him some key to unlock the house of memory. Yes, the mortal body is just that--a house of memory, a jerry-built house at best. But the lock is stern and stark. What key is there, what jemmy, what crowbar, that can prevail on the lock that guards the house of memories, can prevail, at least, without wrecking the house and letting the memories go free once more?