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Last Letters From The Living Dead Man
(Mr. "X" is David Patterson Hatch 1846-1912, a former judge)

 
INTRODUCTION PART 1
INTRODUCTION PART 2

LETTER

 I.

THE GENIUS OF AMERICA
II. FEAR NOT
III. THE PROMISE OF SPRING
IV. THE DIET OF GOLD
V. CONTINGENT FEES
VI. THE THREE APPEALS
VII. THE BUILDERS
VIII. THE WORLD OF MIND
IX. AMERICA'S GOOD FRIDAY
X. THE CRUCIBLE
XI. MAKE CLEAN YOUR HOUSE
XII. LEVEL HEADS
XIII. TREES AND BRICK WALLS
XIV. INVISIBLE ARMIES
XV. THE WEAKEST LINK
XVI. A COUNCIL IN THE FOREST
XVII. THE IDEAL OF SUCCESS
XVIII. ORDER AND PROGRESS
XIX. THE FEDERATION OF NATIONS
XX. THE NEW IDEAL
XXI. A RAMBLING TALK
XXII. THE LEVER OF WORLD UNITY
XXIII. THE STARS OF MAN'S DESTINY
XXIV. MELANCHOLY
XXV. COMPENSATORY PLAY
XXVI. THE AQUARIAN AGE
XXVII. THE WATCHERS
XXVIII. THE RITUAL OF FELLOWSHIP
XXIX. RECRUITING AGENTS
XXX. THE VIRUS OF DISRUPTION
XXXI. THE ALTAR FIRE

 

 

LETTER II

 

FEAR NOT

February 8, 1917.

            Did I not tell you many months ago that the soul of Abraham Lincoln kept watch above this land that he died to save from disruption, and that he would keep vigil until America should have passed through her next great trial? You questioned then what that trial would be. Do you question now? And yet you do not know.
            Slowly the months have gone by, receding into the past. You saw in vision the German Emperor in spiked helmet standing opposite to Uncle Sam in his shirt-sleeves, did you not suppose that it would come to this? You are wise to keep such visions to yourself.

            Do not fancy that this war will end without greater changes than the world has ever known before. When I told you nearly two years ago that the battle between the powers of good and evil had been won in the invisible regions, I knew because my Teacher told me so; but do not believe that the new age can dawn without greater trouble and greater changes than you can now imagine. Birth is change and birth is painful, and birth is bloody and exhausting. The pains that have gone before are only the pains of labor.
            The stars in their courses fight for the new race.

            I have written of the bloody fields of Europe. Now I would write of America and her future, her near and her far future; for the sun is approaching the Eastern horizon and the dawn clouds are already tinged with the coming day.
            America, do not despair! Your destiny is assured. In the storms to come, think of the freshness after the storm, when the ground shall smell sweet and birds shall sing. For the birds will sing to the children of the new age.
            In the midst of changes there will come a lull. The world will say, “It is over, the old things will return, and all will be as before.” But nothing will ever be exactly as it was before. In the lull you shall draw breath, and make ready for other changes. Yes, many things will be changed, even the hearts of men.

            The world has known terror. Without experience of terror, without the poise that comes from the facing of terror undaunted, the world could not face the future without failure. Is there anything now, after thirty months of war, that could surprise the world? Is there anything that the world could not face?
            Oh, remember that you are immortal, and that you who go out of life will come back again, strengthened by the rest in the invisible! For a change of place is a rest of consciousness. To those whose nerves are weary, wise doctors prescribe a change. A rest in the invisible worlds is more refreshing than a summer in the mountains. Do not fear death. I passed through death, and I am more rested now than a strong man in the morning. I would not go back to my old body. When I want a body again I shall build a new one. I know the process of building, having built so many before.

            Be joyous with me. A wise man once said that only the unendurable is tragic. The world, and the souls of the world, can endure the change that is coming. Have not wars prepared them for it? That is why wars had to be.
            America is rich. Her vaults are full of gold, her mines are full of ore, and her fresh soil is full of richness. Shall she fear a future in which labor can procure all things for the body, and faith can procure all things for the soul? The history of this land is a history of faith. Did not Columbus start across the trackless ocean, led only by the star of his faith? Did not your ancestors follow, led by their faith in the future? The past has gone back to God, it is safe as a dead man; but the future is coming to you, and your faith shall make it sure.

            Fear naught. In the early days of this land your forefathers slept in quiet, though the red man lurked in the forest, and hunger lurked in the failure of harvests, and men and children could only be winter-warm when trees had been felled for fuel. Now you fear famines of coal? The earth is heavy with coal. You fear famines of wheat, when your muscles grow fat for lack of exercise. They who came first to this land had varied reasons for fear, but you have no reasons for fear. Labor is sweet. The child who makes labor of play can vouch for the truth of that saying. Can you not then make play of your labor? When I was a child I built houses of blocks. I longed to be building. I dug ditches in the garden. I made boats of chips and sailed them on a puddle. I planted seeds.

            And learning? In the libraries of the world and in the brains of men is stored the learning of the ages. The new age will not lack the archives of all ages. Though paper is less enduring than parchment, it will last over into the new age. Fear not.
            By hints I convey to your mind that many changes will come. What then? All progress is change. Go out with it to meet the future, with a smile on your face and a song on your lips. The future wears a rose in its buttonhole, as your Vagrom Angel would say.

 

 

LETTER III

 

LETTER I