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fore folly will find us, though at the foot of the throne. Say you there is a place or a time "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest?" Yet who are the wicked? "There is none good—no, not one!" Who shall sunder the absolute good from the absolute evil, where all are comparatively imperfect by the sole standard, God? It will ever be so, even in "heaven." As long as we are finite, the nearest joy will shine the brightest. We will rob the future for the present. None are utterly exempt: and ever as now, (and why not?) the bad man, and the good man, or the man less bad, shall tread the same plane.

To us this thought reflects with force upon the more difficult features of modern spiritualism. The most popular objections to these manifestations are their frequent error and very common folly and pretension. To us this blundering is one of the most reliable confirmations of the reality of spiritual intercourse. It comports with this doctrine that death is no infinite advance—that the dead have not learned every thing. And if the reader can but believe that there are some liars, some knaves, and some fools in the second life, as well as in the first, these dark answers, plain deceptions, and driveling bombast will seem less inconsistent with the reputed gravity of death. Strip death of its vagaries, make it a plain matter,—say that the dead man lives on,—and then it will not be expected that a dead fool is wiser than a living sage, nor a dead knave more honest than a dying martyr. Perhaps if spirits have communicated recently with men, some spirit who has called himself