Is it that I catch people's conditions, for I seem to hear each one speak to me as they are with me or leave me, I seem somehow to catch their thoughts. Have I become mediumistic? Just I alone or is it a world-wide telepathy where each mind speaks to another no matter how far away.
Is prayer, then, really answered?
There was the time when I stood by a pillar-box, a letter in my hand, and thought of an episode that was closed by death.
I sent up a prayer to Heaven to send me something to make life worth living and soon afterwards I was led to Theosophy and Tony.
Afterwards when I was alone and very lonely, I sent up the same cry and then came this in answer. Then it is true, and when, at our most despairing moment, we send forth that cry, help comes from above and the answer comes.
I sit here now and look up at the sky, beyond the trees with the quiet rustling of their leaves, and listen to the voices, question and answer there, as if they were spirits meeting somewhere in the blue. And the thought comes to me that we should never say: "It cannot be," for we do not know when we may have to change it to, "I believe it may be," and then to, "I know it is."
Voice meeting voice, no matter how far away at the other side of the world. And I wonder where and who is the Miracle Man, that little voice so full of pathos on that wonderful Sunday night?
. . . . . .
"Oh, Tina Malone, don't you know yet who it is?"
. . . . . .
And then I think—
. . . . . .
"No one is so accursed by fate
No one so utterly desolate
But some heart, though unknown,
Responds unto his own:
Responds, as if with unseen wings
An angel touched its quivering strings
And whispers in its song,
'Where hast thou stayed so long?'"
THE END.
Wholly set up and printed in
Australia by Winn & Co., North
Sydney.
