they proceed to the most infernal exposures, inspections, and tactual manipulations, conceivable, and utterly horrent to any sensitive and delicate woman; the upshot of which is she takes his stuff, and grows ten times worse than ever, because wholly bent on svmptomology, they are ignorant that all these troubles are physical expressions of internal, mental, emotional, affectional or spiritual states half the time; and that ulcerations proceed from lacerations,—or brutalisms on the part of the he head of the house. They do not realize that disturbances, originating in spiritual commotions, can only be cured by administering spiritual remedies,—that is to say, operating upon the soul as well as upon its physical garment—flesh, blood, bone and nerves. How this is accomplished, has already been set forth herein.
C. It is my intention, if I live, during the years I spend on earth, to devote my time to teaching such as desire more light on the matters which have been the sole study of my life. Ostracized by those for, and with whom I had labored since 1848; met with ingratitude at every step, I gladly accept the ostracism of the many for the good companionship of the few; yet not so few after all, for day by day the ranks of the discontented army, who have been content to follow where impulse led, has grown thinner, and our Brotherhood of Thinkers has increased correspondingly, until at last we, of Eulis, know we have but to let the world know that our doors and hearts are open, to welcome acolytes by thousands. Neglect, slander, vile prejudices, contumely—all have—in this trial of six and twenty years—though ranking millions armed with staves, crying, "Crucify him! crucify him!"—proved signally unequal to the task of defeating a single solitary man, and that man the penman of this book,—Paschal Beverly Randolph!—the sang mélee!—Proud of his descent from the kings and queens, not of Nigritia, but of Madagascar, to say nothing,—to say nothing of the Randolphs, nor their rise from Warwick, the king-maker! Listen to one of our wild melodies, and then say if such blood should bow and bend before the ignoble crowd whose only patent is that they boast the lineage of the seashore sorcerers:—
