THE VOICE OF VALENTINO

by LYNN RUSSELL

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Leslie Flint, in grateful appreciation. May it stand as a tribute to his life's work as an instrument for Spiritual Enlightenment, of which this is a mere fragment.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express sincere gratitude to my friends T. T. and S. C., for their assistance in the writing of this book.

CONTENTS

Preface...

1. Light a Penny Candle from a Star

2. The Point of No Return

3. The Third Autumn

4. A Star Ascends

5. The Road to Tranquility

6. The Birth of Light

7. Pearls of Wisdom

8. The Questing Heart

9. The Reluctant Incarnate

10. Eternal Values

11. The Sentimental Journey

12. Just a Thought Away

Preface

No one will deny that the material contained in this book is of the kind that invariably makes

for controversy, and therefore the writing of it has presented many difficulties. I have been

blessed or cursed with an analytical mind and an aptitude for practical application acquired

during the years when I held an administrative position of great responsibility. My trained

powers of observation have served me well in the investigation which came about

unexpectedly through my contact with Leslie Flint, to whom I had gone originally for personal

reasons.

At that time I did not know a great deal about the famous film star Rudolph Valentino, and it

was only gradually through various channels of communication that the soul of the real man,

as opposed to, the pseudo-personality of the silent screen, was revealed. Long before there

was any suggestion from him of putting our findings into print, and during the last eight years,

the four people of our circle have kept a record of events which now includes 500 closely

typed pages and a collection of tapes measuring approximately fifteen miles of magnetic

track on which are recorded the direct voices of Valentino and of many other people who

came from all walks of life. The following extract is an example of a communication from him,

and I have chosen it as an introduction because it conveys by its sincerity and simplicity the

true depths of the soul that shone through the much loved personality. I would like to point

out that in the written record of the tapes, although the meaning has been retained, the

phraseology has occasionally been slightly altered in order to eliminate certain Italian

characteristics which might make the reading a little difficult.

When discussing what was meant by Self Illumination he had this to say: “One of the most

important things (which I discovered very quickly when I came over to This Side of Life) was

that I had to forget myself. I had to forget what I had been, and what I might have

accomplished. I had to see things in their true perspective and place myself in the True Light

to show up all my defects. For the first time I could see myself as I really was.

Not as other people had seen me and not what I had assumed I was like. I had to find Truth,

and the only way to do so is to place oneself in the Radiance that reveals the weaknesses

which have to be eradicated before one can begin to reconstruct. I now see my life and its

purpose so clearly. I see what I achieved and where I failed, but above all I see one thing

that made me worth while, and that was the love of untold numbers of people who had never

seen me in the flesh, and which made possible my redemption. It was this love that still gives

me the incentive to return to help and inspire those of you who are seeking Truth, and who,

by forgetting ‘self,’ desire to find their True Selves in service to God. It is not I who matter, it

is what I may become through the love that is in the hearts of people like you, and through

which I shall be helped.

“You may wonder why I come and give my time and my love to you all, but through you I

hope to achieve great things for others, and in a strange way the love I give out comes back

to me. Love is like that. By bestowing it, it comes back to you. Some times on Earth one

does not understand love and often it is accepted as though it were one’s right! I understand

so many things as I look back on my life, and I see many mistakes.” His voice trembled

slightly and there was a note of sadness in the tone as he continued. “I do not say I was a

vain man, but I now realise that physical attributes only matter when they spring from the

Mind and from the Spirit, otherwise they are of little value. Perhaps anyone in the position I

found myself, rocketed suddenly from obscurity to fame, would have found it very difficult not

to have acted as I did.

“If I have left behind in your world something that gives people happiness, then I am grateful,

but unless I can help them in a spiritual way, and make them want to seek God, and to

understand His purpose for them, then I have not achieved very much. Here and there are

people like yourselves who are anxious to find Truth, and your desire to become agents of

God’s Will gives me the greatest happiness. If through our work together we achieve

something that will enlighten others, then I have not failed to repay the affection that was

given to me. “I want you to know that everything I do is done in love and I am but the agent

of Others more highly evolved than I am but who, through the medium and me, come in love

to serve Mankind. We are bound together by chains that cannot be broken, for each link is

strong and secure, held together by love and faith. We are linked through Time and Space

by this chain which encircles, not only your world, but ALL WORLDS. There are no limits

imposed on the power of love.

"Now I know that in my last incarnation (which seems so unreal to me) I was being used by

Other Forces to express a Universal Love that would in some way touch the hearts of the

people, irrespective of nationality, outlook or upbringing. This love was given through the

agency of films, and I was only the vehicle of its expression; the vehicle of the Universal

Spirit of Love manifesting through strange agencies in a modern world. The purpose was

served, and I know now I shall not return to Earth again in the flesh. When I was on Earth I

expressed love in a humble way, now I express a more noble aspect of it, yet, it is not wholly

my love, for it comes from countless souls in the Realms of Spirit who, through many aeons

of Time and many experiences of Life, have found through suffering and joy, Eternal Love.”

In the following chapters I endeavour to show how this influence has touched the lives of

many groups of people and ‘I have dedicated myself to write only the truth as it has been

presented to us.

1

LIGHT A PENNY CANDLE FROM A STAR

(From the lyrics of Galway Bay, with acknowledgement)

I was eleven years old when I first saw Valentino in a film called “The Four Horsemen of the

Apocalypse,” and my earliest recollection of him is less vivid than my memory of the

Apocalyptic Beast upon whose fiery breath rode the grisly foursome. I was at boarding

school and the opportunity to go to the pictures only occurred during the holidays, so that

whatever knowledge I gleaned of the golden city of Hollywood was through magazines and

certain approved weeklies which we were allowed to read. In all I saw only five of his films,

and I had a modest number of photographs which also served as a kind of currency among

the girls in exchange for such feminine luxuries as bath salts and shampoo powder.

In 1926 when Valentino was taken ill I was quite confident of his recovery. My faith was a

very stable institution and I could not imagine anyone who gave so much pleasure to the

world being taken away from it. Even when the doctors were doubtful I was not unduly

worried, only deeply conscious that he was suffering, and together with thousands of other

people I prayed earnestly for his recovery. When the news of his death came this faith was

badly shaken.

My father had died seven years before and I remembered with uneasiness my mother’s grief

and the widow’s weeds that she wore, but I had not been allowed to miss my father too

much, because we had left my home and moved to another district where I went immediately

to school. Therefore, this show of public grief over the loss of Rudolph Valentino was the first

experience of death to affect me, and it is for this reason that I remember him more clearly.

My Aunt Emmeline was a great believer in the continuity of life, and I listened attentively as

she explained that he would live on, but in much greater happiness. Until now we had always

laughed at her convictions and my mother had not responded to her beliefs during her own

time of sorrow. I was more impressed than she had been with my aunt’s knowledge and I

tried to accept the truth of her words, but I found it difficult because I had completely lost faith

in my conception of God! Such is the heart of a child.

Through Rudolph’s close friend and business manager S.G.Ullman, author of a book entitled

“Valentino As I Knew Him,” I was able to purchase the small collection of poems called

“Daydreams” written by Rudolph, but of which he never claimed authorship, as the contents

were through his own gift of mediumship and inspired by the people whose initials appear

under each title. I also read the book that was to make such a difference to my life in later

years, “Rudy, An Intimate Portrait,” written by his wife Natacha, in which she gave many

wonderful messages received by her from him since his passing, through the great American

medium George Wehner.

From this the seeds of Knowledge were sown—but in secret, for my mother was against any

“dabbling into the psychic.” So time passed and Rudy became a memory. When I left home

to begin working, my mother had to find smaller accommodation and she disposed of my

collection of photographs and books. I never enquired after them. I was almost seventeen

now, and there were many other film stars, but not for me. There had been a finality about

Valentino’s death for which not even the consolation in the messages received from him by

his wife could compensate, and my interests were not particularly centred in the Arts,

because I preferred an open-air life with activities such as swimming and other sports.

My son Anthony, a surviving twin, born in the ‘blitz’ of 1940, was about four years old when

events began to set the scene for the years to come. Fortunately he had just been evacuated

to relatives when his step-father John and I lost our entire home in an air raid, and we moved

temporarily to the town in East Anglia where John was posted and where, a few days later,

the news reached us that my first husband was missing in a daylight air attack over France.

Although our marriage had broken up it did not alter the fact that both John and I were very

anxious about him. Being unable to obtain news from any quarter, I searched the town for a

Spiritualist Church without success. Yet that same night my mother, who was living in North

London, was impressed to the point of compulsion to attend a Spiritualist service, followed by

clairvoyance, which was being held in a nearby hall.

The medium was Joseph Benjamin, and his first message was given to my mother who was

picked out to receive it from a full hall. The communicator established his identity in such a

way as to leave no doubt that it was my father, who passed over in 1919. My mother was

given the details of the target, the type of plane, the number of the crew and the subsequent

fate of Anthony’s father, who had parachuted to comparative safety in occupied territory and

was transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp. When he returned to England a year later, we

learned that every fact given by my father through Mr Benjamin was correct, including a

graphic description of the run-in through a curtain of ‘flak’ and the impact of the anti-aircraft

shell which crippled the plane after the load of supplies had been dropped to our ambushed

troops.

This message and the wonderful help that was given to her regarding other personal matters

intrigued my mother’s enquiring mind, and by the time John and I had returned to London

she had become an interested investigator of Spiritualism! Of course she and I joined in this

together, and a few years later her search led her to a remarkable Direct Voice medium,

Leslie Flint.

On several occasions during the following two years, my mother helped him in his work at

the Kingsway Hall and the Scala Theatre, where he gave public demonstrations of the

Independent Direct Voice. I was seldom free to accompany her to these meetings and I went

only once. One evening on returning from the Kingsway Hall she remarked, “You should

have been there tonight.”

“Why tonight particularly?” I asked. She told me that one communicator had given a most

inspired address. I knew from the way she spoke that she wanted me to question her as to

the identity of the speaker.

“Well, who was it?” I asked unconcernedly, but I was not prepared for her reply!

‘‘Rudolph Valentino!”

“Really? How interesting,” I observed lamely, and busied myself with the supper tray. The

sound of his name was as remote as the memory of the school assembly bell, and I do not

remember if I even asked what he had discussed, yet I was strangely disturbed. Some time

later Leslie Flint left the locality and my mother went to live in Hove. She heard from him only

once after that.

In 1952 my mother passed over very suddenly, and in the same year we were obliged to

leave the house in which we had been living and set up home in a tiny ground floor flat

situated in almost rural surroundings. By a strange coincidence Jean, a friend with whom I

had worked for several years, moved that same week into a top flat only five minutes’ walk

from mine, though like many of us affected by post-war housing difficulties she had been

waiting for accommodation for eleven years. Through conversations with my mother and me

she had become interested in Spiritualism and had accompanied us to many services in the

past, and now she and I attended a service almost every week. Occasionally John would join

us, but Jean’s husband Stanley showed no interest in the subject.

John and I had taken up the study of Microscopy since our move to North London. We were

members of a Club and became deeply engrossed in the exploring of this diminutive world,

attending lectures and meetings regularly. John was surprised therefore one evening in May

1955, when I announced that I wanted to remain at home to hear a radio programme, the

title of which “Quest for Valentino” only served to increase his surprise. Among those taking

part I had noticed the name of Leslie Flint, and it was with mixed feelings that I waited for the

programme to commence. As I heard mentioned all the old familiar places, contacts, and

names, such as S. G. Ullman and Natacha, the years rolled back. Then Leslie spoke of

Valentino’s mediumistic powers and of the poems which he had written under the influence

of his own spirit guides, Meselope and Black Feather, and I felt I was living in a dream.

Actually I had awakened to Reality, because from that moment the Influence, that has

become the controlling factor in our lives, made itself felt.

After some deliberation I wrote to Leslie Flint and told him of my mother’s passing, and

expressed an appreciation of his contribution to the programme. From this correspondence

came an invitation to his home. Less than a week before the visit materialised I went to the

Spiritualist Headquarters, now at 33 Belgrave Square, London, S.W. 1, to hear a lecture, and

while I was waiting for it to begin, my attention was drawn to the heading of a news paper

called “Two Worlds.” It said, “Rudolph Valentino talks to ‘Two Worlds’” and the subtitle read:

“Idol of silent screen shuns the limelight.” I bought a copy immediately I left the lecture hail,

and for the first time since 1927 I found myself reading a report of an actual message from

Valentino, together with the story of Leslie Flint’s first contact with him which developed after

his interest had been aroused by Natacha’s book.

Leslie was only sixteen when he started his psychic development in a home circle, and it was

not long before he became a trance medium under the control of a Spirit Group. But many

years passed before he became the ‘voice’ medium whose integrity is without question, for

the evidence, accumulated by hundreds of sitters over a period of thirty years, speaks for

itself. From the article it was obvious that although he was Leslie Flint’s chief spirit guide

now, Rudy rarely came through to speak though he had been a frequent communicator in

the past. He preferred to remain in the background but on occasions had spoken to some of

his old friends, many of whom had established beyond doubt that the communicator was

Valentino. Now he was anxious to bring proof of the continuity of life, and to repay in service

the love and regard bestowed upon him during his life on Earth.

My meeting with Leslie Flint was quite an experience. Several of his friends were already

there when I arrived, and apparently they all shared an interest in old films, which were still to

be seen at the National Film Theatre of which many were members. After tea Leslie

produced a number of books and I withdrew from the guests who were engrossed in their

discussions. Apart from expressing his sympathy over my mother’s passing, he never

referred to the subject of Spiritualism I have since learned that he never discusses his work,

but at the time I could not help feeling a little bewildered since my tentative enquiries as to

the article in “Two Worlds” were met with polite but reticent replies. However, our meeting

was one of mutual regard and a further invitation was extended to include John if he wished

to accept.

On my second visit to Leslie’s he gave me a very tattered copy of the poems “Daydreams”

that he had come across while browsing in old book shops, and as I turned over the

discoloured pages I said laughingly to John, “Somehow I think this is where I came in!” How

true those casual words proved to be in the years that followed!

It was about this time I began to have again what I can only describe as intuitions. I am no

more a stranger to these than are many other people, but under war conditions with the

attendant fears and tensions they had been especially evident, and now they seemed

reawakened. By nature and nationality I am somewhat reticent when it comes to discussing

personal matters and I have never found it easy to put my developing perceptions into

words. However, I described them to John who listened attentively. I encouraged him to

apply his logical reasoning to this “awareness” of mine and never once did he laugh at me, or

criticise any confidence I gave him, with the result that we have maintained a constant and

mutual exchange of innermost thoughts.

Through the courtesy of Mr R. Gladwell who had presented the radio programme in May, I

was able to obtain the address of Mr. Ullman. I wrote and asked if he could find a copy of

“Daydeams.” Almost by return of post I received a charming letter enclosing the address of a

dealer in Los Angeles through whom, not only have I been able to replace all I had in my

childhood, but I have added to my original collection of books and articles, especially in

regard to the little-known interest Rudy had in psychic things. Mr Ullman said in his letter that

he felt I ‘had sensed the spirituality in Valentino that made his name live on through these

long years.’

It became increasingly clear now that a plan was beginning to form, and I was impressed to

keep a record of events. Shortly after receiving the book of poems from America I wrote

these words in my notes : ‘September 1955. Before this record is completed I hope I shall be

given to understand the purpose behind all this, also the reason for being instinctively drawn

to someone whom I never had the privilege to meet. That it is of psychic origin I have no

doubt, but this fact I hope to prove.’

The realisation soon dawned that the sequence of events could no longer be considered

mere coincidences, and I commenced to form a pattern of thought. I asked for help and

guidance for myself and others, I gave thanks and expressed the desire to be of service to

humanity, and gradually it became apparent that my thoughts and prayers were reaching a

point of definite contact.

I had never been able to pray with the conviction that my prayers would be heard. Naturally I

had felt the need to “find God” as everyone termed it, but I could not bring myself to believe

that my insignificant thoughts could reach out to a remote and Supreme Consciousness, of

whose existence however I had no doubt. In the glory of a sunset, in the wonders of Nature, I

found abundant evidence of Divine Love. Until now, the song of the birds had been my hymn

and a response to the glory of a sunrise was all I knew and understood of prayer. Therefore

my first feeble attempt to send out my concentrated thought impulse was motivated only by

the wish to convey gratitude for the spiritual awareness that was slowly developing.

For my prayer sessions I chose a time when I would not be interrupted and the late afternoon

was ideal. Ten minutes sufficed in the early days, then it became twenty, and eventually half

an hour. As vague uncertain prayer became deep meditation – and I have known this to last

for over an hour - I had to curtail it, if only for the sake of the dinner that was waiting to be

cooked! By this method alone my whole conscious effort became tuned in to some wonderful

Source of inspiration, and I knew peace, real peace for the first time in my whole agitated life.

I made my first appointment for a séance with Leslie Flint on December, 8th 1955, three

years almost to the day of my mother’s passing. Before relating the episodes of this sitting, I

will explain as simply as possible what is meant by the Independent Direct Voice. Firstly, a

medium is a person who has developed the sense of extended sight and hearing which

enables that man or woman to tune in to a higher state of consciousness which lies beyond

the range of perception of our normal earthly senses. A physical medium provides

ectoplasm, which is a physical substance that can be manipulated by the controls and guides

on the spirit side of life. It is a complicated process, and many people such as scientists and

doctors whose skill and knowledge on Earth fitted them for this kind of work assist in

constructing a replica of the larynx, which acts as an “etheric microphone.” The voices are

quite independent of the vocal org of the medium and seem to come out of the air.

Complete darkness is essential for the construction of the ectoplasmic microphone by the

spirit operators, because the voice box is as sensitive to light as a photographic plate. I have

been given to understand that the spirit communicators impinge their thoughts on to this

sensitive field and these are transmitted to us as sound. The voices sound exactly as if they

were speaking by telephone, and no trumpet or other mechanical device is used. On this

memorable day, Leslie and I talked of trivialities for a few minutes in the séance room, then

he stubbed out his cigarette, turned out the light, and went on chatting! His conversation kept

my mind relaxed but I was waiting for him to become quiet, which I thought necessary, when

a perky little Cockney voice said, “Hello, lady! You don’t know me, do you?” “Oh, yes I do,

Mickey, I have heard you once before.” His childish laughter filled the room and after a while

he said, “You’re not scared are you, love?”

“No, not in the least. Only excited,” I told him.

He informed me that there were many people who would like to speak to me, and then there

was a pause. Now I heard a woman’s voice rich and clear speaking in broken English with a

French accent. I learned later that she was known as Sister Teresa. Her personality seemed

to enfold me with gentleness, but her stay was cut short by a man’s voice with a similar

accent, whose first words were; “You don’t know me, but I am interested in your son.”

For personal reasons I cannot put into print all that passed between us. My son had been a

great worry to me because due to the circumstances of his birth he was physically disabled.

He had attended a children’s clinic for two years but did not seem to be improving. I had

pondered over the question of different treatment but Dr. Marcel, as the communicator

proved to be, was opposed to this. He discussed every detail with me, and answered,

unasked, many of the questions for which I had requested help during my prayer sessions.

His last words regarding Anthony were: “One day you’ll have reason to be very proud of

him.” Before his final “Au revoir” he asked me to come again soon and bring my husband,

which I promised I would.

Another doctor followed who spoke in a cultured English voice to which it was a joy to listen,

and gave the name of Dr. Charles Marshall. He confirmed and added to the advice already

received, and was most insistent that we should both come again soon. In the pause, which

was only momentary, I wondered at the urgency and the air of excitement that was

transmitted by the very tone of their voices, then my thoughts were checked by a faint

whisper. “Eveline, Eveline, [full name.] this is Mother. Can you hear my voice? Oh dear! This

is so difficult.” Her ‘breathing’ became laboured, but after a moment she went on. “You had

such a shock, and so did I! When your father made his presence known I argued with him,

thinking it was a dream,” and suddenly she laughed, her very own, particular, infectious

laugh, that I knew could not belong to anyone else at all.

The emotional tension having been broken we held a personal and intimate conversation.

Her voice was faint but she seemed to be experiencing less difficulty. She said how

wonderful it was to be with my father again, after thirty-three years’ separation, and she was

looking forward to talking to John. Suddenly she changed the subject and mentioned

something about being sorry regarding the books and photographs. I could not think to what

she was referring. I had sorted out boxes of family books and photographs after her passing,

but I could not understand what was worrying her. She realised I was puzzled and added

with a burst of strength, “No, no, darling. Rudy’s photographs! Your photographs of Rudy and

your books. I am so very sorry! I had no idea what they meant to you, and above all what

they will mean to you yet. I will help you to replace them. You have had some already,

haven’t you?”

I tried to hide my amazement and hastened to assure her she had acted for the best and

must not concern herself. Just before she left she turned towards Leslie (there is a distinct

alteration in the direction of sound when this happens) and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Flint.

Do you remember me?” How typical of my mother! It had always required years of friendship

before she would call anyone by their first name. They chatted together and then she said

goodbye to me as someone else was waiting to speak. A soft girlish voice came through

almost immediately, trembling with excitement, “Val, Val here. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I can hear you.” I had not the faintest idea who it was.

“Val, Valerie. Oh Mummy! Don’t you know me?” I was beyond words. My little daughter,

Anthony’s twin, had died at three days old. I lost control for a moment, but she was so

excited it soon helped me regain my composure. She went on to tell me that she was

surprised at my reaction for she knew that I had read a great deal on the subject, and

therefore I should have been aware that a soul continues to grow if it passes over in infancy,

but I must understand that her progress was much faster than Anthony’s and that now I

should think of her as a young woman.

A soul if young when released from the body achieves maturity in a short period of time, and

returns to maturity if the body is old at death. I knew all this, but it is one thing to read of it,

and another to have the wonder of it revealed. She spoke of her father, and I made the point

of stressing the fact that it was best that things had worked out as they had for the sake of

all, but she interrupted me, “Mummy, I am not condemning, nor criticising, I am not in a

position to judge, neither would I do so, but I want you to know how close I am to you and

Daddy, and at the same time I want you to give my love to Uncle John and tell him I thank

him for all he has been to you, and that I am glad you are so happy together. I will speak to

him when he comes here. Oh, this is so wonderful! But I must go because the power is

going. Come again soon, Mummy.” Mickey closed the sitting with a few hurriedly spoken

words and we sat for some seconds before Leslie put on the light.

“It is a strange thing,” he said as he opened the door into the lounge, “but when that first

doctor spoke, I could have sworn it was Valentino. Until I heard the French accent I was sure

it was. I had rather hoped he would come today.” I was not yet fully composed, and felt

stunned by all that had happened. As he spoke.

I looked up at the coloured photograph hanging on the wall beside the door. I studied the

strong face and clear-cut profile. It was rather presumptuous to expect him to come through

to me, I thought. But I said: “If ever he knows the part he played in bringing me into this

Truth, perhaps he will come and speak to me one day.” How was I to know, at that stage,

that he was near and perfectly aware of all that was taking place?

It was a week later when Leslie invited John and me to attend a séance with six other sitters,

which gave us the opportunity of hearing the wonderful evidence given to the various

members. One of the lady communicators was a most impressive orator, which might be

expected. for we discovered afterwards it was the famous actress Mrs. Patrick Campbell

whose voice had a clear ringing tone that could not fail to arrest one’s attention. My mother

and Valerie spoke to us both, and asked us to come again at a later date, which we arranged

for February 24th,1956.

By the time this date arrived we were beginning to know, and to recognise our

communicators by their first greetings. Mickey was always the one to break the ice and make

the sitters feel at ease, and my mother was mastering the art of using the Independent Voice

and now spoke with much greater strength. On this occasion she surprised me by asking

John what he thought of Valentino! John said he hoped he would have the opportunity of

getting to know him and caused much laughter by saying he remembered his films much

better than I did, since be was nine years older, but that he had been an admirer of William

S. Hart and Tom Mix of the “stick ‘em up and shoot ‘em fast” variety! There is never much

tension in the air with John around!

When Sister Teresa came through I asked her in an indirect manner why I should feel drawn

to what was after all only a shadow personality. She avoided an immediate reply, but went

on to say that John and I had come together to fulfill spiritual purpose and much work lay

ahead of us. Then she added that there are many forms of love. Human love was one thing,

spiritual love another, and they operate on different planes, each as important yet distinct

from the other. I told her I found it difficult to understand what was meant by spiritual love,

but she merely said, “You will.” Then she asked us to come again as there were others who

wished to speak about our future work for the Spirit! For a brief moment one of John’s

relations spoke and his parting words were rather touching; he seemed to lean forward and

in a confidential tone whispered, “You’ve been very blessed, my boy,”

Naturally, Jean and Stanley, our nearby friends, followed these events with fluctuating

interest. Jean who knew me very well accepted my judgment. Stanley who was hardly

acquainted with me viewed the whole affair with dubious sentiments. He listened politely as I

explained that the medium could not possibly have known the details of my private life. Leslie

knew my present name only, and I doubt if he knew that I had a son, let alone a daughter

whose existence I had put out of my own mind! But why go on? I had experienced something

precious, something almost divine, and I could not make it a subject for argument. I gave

Stanley the facts but made no attempt to convince him, for I remembered that once I too had

been a sceptic. Therefore, he awaited impartially John’s reaction to those first private

sittings, which he expected to coincide with his own opinions. His curiosity became more

roused when he observed the discerning mind of the male species bowing before the

indisputable evidence, and when Jean expressed the wish to join us on our next visit, he did

not object.

Each time we had a séance it became obvious that my mother was not only urging us

towards a more serious approach in developing our own latent psychic powers, but she was

deliberately bringing Valentino to my mind again, not as the myth which publicity would have

one believe existed, but as a very real, vital personality. So, with Leslie Flint’s assistance I

began to piece together the true aspects of the man. As we sifted through the mass of

journalism—much of which I had never seen—I realised something of the legend which had

surrounded him, of which seventy-five per cent was sheer nonsense. Naturally the most

reliable source of information is found in the two books written by those nearest to him, his

wife and his business manager, and from these alone emerges a very different conception of

Valentino.

Behind the synthetic personality lay a quiet and reserved man. He was very well educated,

and spoke four languages. The natural grace which accompanied all his actions was

perfected through his skill in dancing, fencing, boxing and wrestling. He was, of course, a

magnificent horseman, being the son of an Italian cavalry officer and veterinary doctor, from

whom he inherited his extra ordinary love of animals. His wife shared this quality and

between them they had the oddest assortment of creatures from monkeys to lion cubs. The

Valentino menagerie was smiled upon indulgently by the neighbours until the day when a

half-grown lioness padded leisurely down Sunset Boulevard!

Rudy was a perfectionist and made a deep study of the costumes, mannerisms, and the way

of life of many nationalities in different periods of time, which added to the authentic settings

of his films after he became famous and had some say in the matter. In the early days of

course he was at the mercy of the film directors. He took a keen interest in philosophy and

read avidly anything that helped to broaden his outlook in this direction. All of which forms

the foundation of the work which he is called upon to do at the present time through his

medium, and from which we and thousands of other people have benefited.

It was midsummer before we had another sitting and this time Jean accompanied us. She in

turn received such evidence from her relations and her father that she was unable to refute

or deny any statement. Her father recalled the manner of his passing, and told her that the

old dog Mike was with him. My mother, whom Jean recognised before my greeting identified

her, astounded us by discussing the health condition of a friend of Jean’s for whom we had

been asking help in our daily sessions. Dr Marshall then continued on more scientific lines

and admitted the case was a difficult one, but assured us of every assistance. In this way we

learned of the power of prayer.

For months afterwards, unknown to the patient, spirit doctors and helpers brought their

healing power to bear on him, working in unison with the hospital treatment he was receiving.

On one occasion, Dr Marshall said it was almost impossible to keep life within the partly

paralysed body, yet today, still in ignorance of the tremendous effort that was made on his

behalf, he is well enough to live a normal life and to drive his car. Spiritual healing is not

dependent on the patient’s co-operation, but naturally an active response enhances the

possibility of recovery.

However, we must return to the sitting and join the moment of hushed silence that followed

Dr. Marshall’s departure. A voice we had not heard before commenced to speak, and as the

deep slow words fell on our ears the atmosphere of the room seemed to change. “Greetings,

my children,” and we knew instinctively we were in the presence of an evolved soul. “I am

happy to welcome you here, and I rejoice to know that you are beginning your spiritual

development at last! We have waited many years for you to start.” Anxiously we enquired

how we were to set about this work of which he was speaking. “Sit together in peace and

harmony, in quietness of body and mind one with the other. Allow thoughts of love to come

uppermost in your minds; offer yourselves for service to the Great Spirit. We shall be with

you, and together we shall gradually make progress. Your husband is not with you, my

sister?” He was obviously speaking to Jean, who explained that Stanley was not familiar with

the proceedings and had not expressed a desire to come with us.

“He will come next time we speak together. He is much more interested than he cares to

admit, and he too will sit with you, in fact he will be your medium!” he announced firmly. If we

had been told we were going to sit with the Wizard of Oz as our medium, the remark would

have been met with greater belief and less astonishment! There was a note of amusement in

the voice as he cautioned us: “It would be as well not to inform our brother of this for the time

being, or his surprise would be greater than yours, yet in many ways he will prove to be even

more enthusiastic than you. Do as I have advised and leave it to the Power of the Spirit to

influence him. You will get results, this I promise you.” As he stopped speaking I asked his

name. “I am White Cloud,” he said, and I murmured my thanks.

Vaguely the name stirred a chord of memory, but it was some weeks later when I received a

copy of Natacha’s book from America that I came across the name. White Cloud (the guide

of George Wehner) who had taught Rudy a few days after his passing how to communicate

through a medium, in those far-off days at the château in the South of France where his wife

and family were living at the time.

Following the advice given to us by White Cloud, on our return home we said very little about

the séance. Stanley was tolerantly amused when we three started our weekly sittings at my

home in early June, but by the second week in July he could contain himself no longer and

announced suddenly to his wife, “I’ll come along next Monday evening and see what’s going

on!”

“Do,” Jean replied with averted head to hide a smile, “we shall be pleased to have you.”

Considering we were all inexperienced we three had blended together extremely well, and

found no difficulty in exchanging our thoughts and feelings. Stanley’s presence did not inhibit

this confidence and he proved a very restful sitter, even though he was a somewhat puzzled

one. Afterwards he remarked upon the wonderful atmosphere of peace and quietness during

that hour and a half of complete relaxation.

In August, John, Anthony, and I realised a cherished dream. We went to Italy. We were in

Rimini on the Adriatic coast on the anniversary of Rudy’s death, and in spite of my appalling

Italian I was able to order a floral tribute to be sent to Taranto Cathedral. Strange to relate,

that year his home town not far from Taranto arranged a celebration to his memory, whereas

up to that time he had been forgotten.

Apart from a plaque set on the wall of the house where he was born, which had been

presented by Italian immigrants in Cincinnati, U.S.A., “Rodolfo” was relegated to oblivion. It

was the small account of this festivity in an English newspaper which prompted me to write

to the official responsible for the commemoration and ask for. a photograph of his home. I did

not receive a reply until the following February. Nor did I foresee that this simple request

would meet with such response.

After our return from Italy we began to get our sittings properly organised, an important item

being the making of black-out frames for the back bedroom of either flat, this room being

chosen on account of its quietness. The advantage of interchangeable frames was evident

during times of illness or other events, such as house decorations, all of which have

happened without interrupting the sittings. We were in mutual agreement over the desirability

of complete black-out, as concentration was better, and we found it easier to say what we

thought we saw, or felt.

Stanley was getting clairvoyant vision now, and as it was presented to him, so he described

it to us, and we accepted or rejected it according to our reasoning. He made no attempt to

interpret what he saw, and in this manner the influence of his own mind was kept at a

minimum.

Since our return from Italy, I had wanted to ask Leslie if he could arrange for us to speak to

Rudy, yet I was reluctant to do so, as Leslie had frequently stressed the point that all he

could do was to act as the medium through whose power those in the spirit world could

speak. He claimed no authority to ask for any particular person to communicate. In any case,

it is customary to await the presence of the spirit people, and too much concentration on one

person can often put up a barrier. But the urge was so insistent that I eventually succumbed

to it, and wrote for an appointment with this idea in mind.

I did not include Jean or Stanley as sitters when I wrote for this special sitting because

Stanley had not yet attended a séance with a professional medium and I did not know how

he would react. Besides which it would be natural that he would want to ask questions and

seek personal evidence. He still did not know that he was destined to develop strong

mediumistic powers, although he had accepted the philosophy more readily than we had

thought possible. Even when he found that he was getting clairvoyant vision he did not

register great surprise, as we too were getting fragments, and he seemed to accept the

whole unusual experience with a calm detachment. Therefore, as we four were already

booked for our first sitting together on September 21st, I felt justified in omitting them for this

occasion.

Leslie booked the red letter day for John and me on September 30th, 1956, when we were to

be his guests. He said he would invite one or two members of his own circle to sit with us,

and he would have the tape recorder running, but of course he could not guarantee that

Valentino would come through, and he advised us to avoid too much concentration or

expectancy.

The thought that this contact had even been considered seemed hardly believable, after the

remoteness of the past thirty years, and in my records I wrote these words, which briefly sum

up the whole enigmatical situation as I awaited the appointed day: Beyond the feeling of

pent-up excitement I am aware of a deep sense of humbleness. Rudy has the power to

move me inwardly, all the time. The persistent thought demands attention . . . have we met in

another life span?”

I had always rejected the theory of reincarnation because it filled me with the fear of

separation and I had deliberately avoided accepting this, or bringing my reason to bear upon

it. I knew that Rudy believed in it and also the Law of Karma, yet his opinion of these matters

in no way agreed with mine. “This contact, should it be realised, doubtlessly will lead to a

further study of this debatable subject,” my notes concluded.

2

THE POINT OF NO RETURN

WHEN once the voice of spirit is heard and life is given up to the service of others, it is true

to say that there is no going back. Thoughts, ideals, motives, the pres and the future become

dedicated to those who come to teach and guide, and so it was with us. Therefore the day

when we attended our first Independent Voice séance as a foursome held significance, yet it

did not exactly begin with a flourish. Once the preliminaries were over, Mickey startled

Stanley by saying, “Ahem! He’s a sceptic!” and before Stanley could reply a relative of Jean’s

whom Stanley knew very well was speaking to him, and giving him wonderful evidence.

Dr. Marcel discussed the circle with us, confirming White Cloud’s statement that Stanley

would be our medium. His words were full of encouragement and happiness that we were so

willing to co-operate. My mother confidently said she hoped to be able to speak with us in

this way in our own home some time in the future. A Dr Edwards introduced himself at this

point and asked us to be more relaxed during our sittings, and not concentrate on results so

intensely. “Just be quite natural,” he said, addressing me. “You stare into space looking for

something you’ll never see, and John looks half-dead!” We all burst into laughter, in which be

joined, then he said not unkindly, “If you could see yourselves sometimes! But actually you

are progressing very well. Remember, you must bring your reason to bear on everything you

receive. I have been to some séances where it is awful to see the rubbish that is accepted!

You, on the other hand, are inclined to be too critical, but it is better to err on the overcautious

side.”

Sister Teresa commented about my prayer sessions and urged me to continue, as these

thoughts form an ever-constant link with the world of spirit. The next communicator did not

give her name but John and I recognised Mrs Patrick Campbell who was pleased we

remembered her. Then a different voice spoke rather slowly, and very similar to White

Cloud’s, but he called himself White Feather. Finally, Dr. Marshall and whose last words

were, “We know you are coming on the 30th. We have a surprise for you. Don’t worry, we’ve

something up our sleeve. The power is going. God bless you all.” Stanley’s initiation was

over, and the evidence had overwhelmed him completely, as it does most people when they

hear this wonderful communication for the first time.

I wrote the notes relating to our special sitting of September 30th the following day and

headed them as follows: “I hardly know how to commence the record of this wonderful

experience, but it is surely true that when knowledge, faith, and love (not necessarily in that

order) are combined, all things are possible.”

I will not run the risk of boring the reader by recounting every phrase of every speaker, from

now on. Each séance brings fresh evidence and new people, so when a member of the circle

sitting with us that afternoon spoke with someone whom she addressed as Frédéric—

obviously an old and trusted friend well used to communicating—it did not occur to us to

question the recipient, but later in the evening she volunteered the information that her life

long interest in his work had drawn him to her. Here was an example of the link of mutual

Harmony, for he was Frédéric Chopin.

Another old friend with a strong American accent was Flo Ziegfeld, of the famous Ziegfeld

Follies. He seemed highly amused with the whole proceeding, and called us a lot of “fans”

and then asked us if we knew the word stood for fanatics! Well, he certainly had us laughing

—anything to break the atmospheric tension, which was positively charged! Now we had the

experience of appreciating the difficulties our friends have to overcome on Their Side, and

the effort required to slow down their own rate of vibration to our rate, in order to use the

power of an earthly instrument. There was a faint whisper, a woman’s voice - then again, but

still we could not hear clearly. The steady purring of the tape recorder seemed more

powerful, then “Hello there!” also spoken with an American accent. “You must be patient with

me. I have never come through before. I have helped all these years, but this is the first time

I have made the effort . . . and what an effort it is! I am June Mathis.”

Those of us who knew of her connection with Rudy were electrified! “I hope you can hear

me,” she said, her voice getting stronger all the time. “If not, I can SHOUT MUCH LOUDER !“

We laughed as the room reverberated with the sound which fortunately she modified as she

went on. “I am here today because Rudy has asked me to speak with you. You know that I

was always interested in psychic matters when I was on Earth.”

Once again I must leave the narrative to explain the importance of the role played by June.

She was the woman who risked ruining her career as a famous scenario writer by insisting,

in the face of much opposition, that the part of Julio in “The Four Horsemen of the

Apocalypse” should be given to the youthful Valentino, who at that period was almost

unknown. She has gone down in film history as the only real discoverer of Valentino and

although many others have laid claim to this foresight the honours must go to June, who was

prepared to back him after seeing an early film in which he played the villain. Such a part did

not suit him, while it created the reverse effect to that intended on the audience, whose

sympathy was seldom with the hero!

June, and her mother in particular, befriended him during his early struggles in Hollywood,

and it was through their association that he first became interested in psychic manifestations.

When June’s mother passed over she became one of his inspirers, and as his own

mediumship developed, Jenny, as she was called, frequently communicated with him. Mr.

Ullman relates in his book how Rudy, in his delirium, called her name twice as he was being

taken by ambulance to the hospital at the onset of his fatal illness. When he died so

unexpectedly June expressed the wish that her crypt should be used as a temporary vault

until the time when a permanent resting place could be selected. But within the year June

herself died, and her husband relinquished his right to the adjoining crypt which he sold to

the Valentino estate. So Rudy lies beside the woman who gave his art to the world, and who

out-lived him by only a few months. Now here she was speaking to us, thirty years later, at

his request.

Towards the end of her talk the message became particularly impressive. She said, “I want

you to know that Rudy and I have been together in other incarnations. In Egypt, in Rome,

and in Italy of the Middle Ages, as--you--have--also. You have all lived on this Earth before,

and when you are drawn inexplicably to someone, and perhaps do this person a great

service, it is your Karma to do so.” Before she left us she said, “When the time comes, these

things will be revealed to you.”

The expectancy in the atmosphere increased with every moment of silence. Then a quiet,

gentle voice broke in on our thoughts. “Good evening. Please do not be so tense. . . .“ It was

Rudy. “When you are so tense and over-anxious it makes it much more difficult for us. Do

not concentrate on me. I am nothing.” His voice was nervous and strained. “I have my

reasons why I do not come very often to speak, but it does not mean to say I am not present,

and that I am not endeavouring to be of service and help. Of course I am. The only thing that

is important is the work achieved, and those who are helped and comforted that to me is

most important.” He was speaking slowly but more steadily now, choosing his words

carefully with just a trace of accent. “Unfortunately there are so many people in your world

who do not understand; who do not even try to understand It is an extra ordinary thing how

people have illusions, although it is necessary to have them sometimes I am not here to

decry illusion because myself created one in the hearts and minds of many people through

my work upon the screen.

“It was this that helped me to be a success—if you can call it a success! Success does not

always mean happiness. It may bring happiness to others but not to oneself, yet since I have

been Here I have been very happy. It is a privilege for me to be of service. The only thing

that is important is to serve Humanity. When I was on Earth I was able to give service

inasmuch as I was able to bring happiness for a brief space of time, to bring a little colour, a

little magic perhaps, but important though it may have seemed, it was only an illusion and the

Earth is full of them!” His Voice sounded rather sad, and John, unable to contain himself

said, “No, no, Rudy. I can’t have that. You must have brought a great deal of comfort to

people, more than you’ll admit perhaps. You gave them joy by lifting their minds off the

troubles of this world, and what is more, you still do!”

“Well . . . er . . . to a certain extent I must agree with you, my friend,” Rudy said rather be

grudgingly, but with ‘a smile’ in his voice at John’s emphatic protest. “All kinds of people,

even those who consider themselves wise and intelligent, have their dreams, and it is these

that keep them going. Yet we who are coming to you from This Side of Life try desperately to

bring you realities. “Those of you who know the Truth which we call Communication find it a

great help and comfort, so, you tell your friends, and they say, ‘Oh, it’s only a delusion!’ The

World in Which you live is full of fear, malice, and hatred There is so much that is wrong, and

it is all due to false values. Men build up for themselves things that they consider necessary,

and things that are so-called pleasures but we knew that we have a duty to fulfil; we have a

task that we have taken upon ourselves, and that is to help to change the mind of Mankind.

“We come to bring you realities and to break down the barriers that stand between us and

your world. We do not come only to give you personal comfort. We come that we might unite

together and so form a band of love and brotherhood, that the two worlds, our world and

yours, might become one, where men may be together in Mind, in Spirit, and in Truth, where

there shall be no illusions, only reality, and where love shall reign supreme over the

kingdoms of the worlds—for there are many such worlds.

“I am not here today to tell you particularly about myself, and personally I want to forget my

‘Earth life’ as much as possible, for it is not important to me any more. What is important is

the work I can do, what I can achieve, what I am now, and what I hope to become. You and I

are very blessed, because we know of certain things that the world does not understand, and

to which it is blind. You know the real values of life. The real values are the things of God,

the things that are Eternal which can never fade, and which can never die.

“I find great happiness in coming to this house, where there is such an atmosphere of love,

and I thank you all for keeping my earthly memory alive. The medium I use is an instrument

who for many years has been trained to serve, and to become a servant of the Most High is

not an easy path!” During the pause John said, “It is a great honour!”

“It is indeed,” Rudy continued, “but at the same time it is a difficult task. I have deliberately

avoided putting myself in the foreground, because I know that many people would think of

me as they visualised me in the old days in the picture houses, and they would say, ‘What an

extraordinary fellow! This is not the kind of person to have control over a medium.’ The point

is, that kind of person can only visualise me in the wrong sense. The world has changed and

all the success and all the pleasure which I found from my earthly life . . . is as nothing

compared with that which I have Here . . . “ The tape on the recorder ran out at that moment!

Leslie turned it off, meanwhile Rudy managed to hold control just long enough to say, “I will

come and speak with you again, the next time you all Sit together. Arrivederci.” And he was

gone. Mickey called out very hurriedly. “Same people, same time, Sunday fortnight please.

Cheerio!”

Everyone was talking happily and excitedly as they flied out of the séance room, but I hung

back reluctant to leave. I wanted to think. I wanted to re-live every word, and above all to

absorb the significance of June’s implication. “Egypt . . . Rome

“Lily of the Middle Ages . . . as—you—have—also. It is your Karma.” John interrupted my

thoughts, for he too had lingered behind the others. He put his arms around my shoulders.

“Well,” he said as he kissed me." Rudy came. But you never opened your mouth!”

“I couldn’t,” I said with a laugh.

“You are a funny one,” he said affectionately. Later in the evening Leslie played back the

tape recording, running the last part through twice, and one of the sitters transcribed the

messages.

When the Sunday fortnight came round a visitor from California was invited by Leslie to sit

with us. The guest was limited as to time, and could make no arrangements for a private

sitting. He received a wonderful message to the effect that he would never again have to

incarnate, as his present life was of such spiritual value through the work he was doing, that

his experience in the material world would now be completed and after his passing he would

journey through the Spheres with his beloved without further separation. Rudy did not come

to speak with us. I was surprised at my reaction to this. I did not feel disappointed. It was as

if I knew with my inner consciousness that it could be a test, and as I was still grateful that he

had come through on the previous occasion, I could not allow myself feelings of regret, and

perhaps the American was in greater need. I hoped that we should get an opportunity later,

since in the first instance the invitation had come from the Other Side, but as a group it was

never extended to us again.

It would be quite impossible, as well as uninteresting for any one not taking part, to detail

each step and experience as it came to us in our home circle in the months that followed.

Every sitting produced vivid scenes which were enacted through Stanley’s clairvoyant vision.

He is not a man to whom eloquence comes easily, and at first the communications were

halting and slow, but there were nights when it became clear that another personality

impinged itself on his mind in such a way that the words would flow smoothly and fluently.

I had the impression that all the details were of some importance, and after those early

sittings I wrote down all that we could remember—and what a jumble it all was! In December

we bought a cheap second-hand tape recorder, and it took much time to run it back and

transcribe the tapes; then, as I realised the enormity of the task that lay before me, a

typewriter became a necessity, followed by the difficult process of learning to type.

I faithfully recorded all our failures and the difficulties we encountered as we tried to obtain

harmony, to create the right conditions, both physical and mental, and I made a note of all

the negative sittings, the good, bad and indifferent.

Throughout my investigations into psychic matters I have heard of countless home circles

breaking up, but now it comes as no surprise to me that so many fall by the wayside, and

when I look back on those early days and remember our anxious expectancy, that has yet to

be fully realised as I write these words eight years later, I can smile indulgently at our

enthusiasm, which diminished at times for Stanley who said, “If I have any more historical

kaleidoscopes to describe, I shall develop hysterical complexities!” It is only fair to say that in

order to leave his mind completely free from impressions regarding the circle, I did not show

him the record I was keeping, and it was quite some time before even I realised the order

amongst the chaos.

The fact that we were making progress with this type of light trance proves that we must

have achieved suitable conditions for our controls to work with us, yet the surroundings were

far from ideal. Therefore, I think it would be encouraging to many people at this stage if I

outline our very ordinary circumstances.

To start with our respective husbands work in a factory. Noise, stifling atmosphere, and

constant discordant events take place around them all day, so they both come home in the

evening tired and hungry. This means that one of the rules for development cannot be

applied, that is not to have a heavy meal before a séance, and although we do not indulge in

a particularly heavy one, we do have a complete dinner. We live in council maisonettes

where every sound can be heard! There are creaking floorboards overhead, radio, television,

and even voices can be heard from the flat above, or crying children from the adjoining flat.

They are normal everyday sounds and the families concerned are considerate to each other,

but the places are badly built.

Jean and I work part time locally so we are home in time to prepare the room. As I remarked

before, the sittings take place in our bedroom and the accommodation is cramped. Stanley

sits on a small fireside chair and Jean sits opposite him. John and I are side by side on a

large ottoman with the foot of the bed as a back rest. I remember once reading that the

séance room should be sparsely furnished! The floor is fully carpeted and an electric fire

provides the heating, although this is turned out before we start. We keep the dressing-table

as something of a focal point, with vases of fresh flowers, cut glass and old-fashioned silver,

and two photographs, one of Rudy and another of Charles (as we now call Dr. Marshall). The

tape recorder is unceremoniously pushed under the bed !

On one particular evening that a friend called and asked to see our ‘séance room’ she

remarked upon the atmosphere of peace and homeliness that prevailed in spite of the

difficulties. Perhaps the wisp of smoke rising from a burning joss stick created a feeling of

special quietude, but I quickly disillusioned her. “I’ve been cooking greens!” I said. “In future

I’ll remember to avoid such things before our meetings.”

In the pages that follow and in their order of sequence, I will try to convey some wonderful

mystical experiences that have been given to me, sometimes during the sittings, but more

often during my prayer sessions in this room. These experiences I feel sure are comparable

to those enjoyed by seekers of Truth in the fastness of the Himalayas, or in the tranquility of

the cloisters, and yet the contact with the Higher Spheres has been made and maintained in

such a way that I feel confident in saying that not one person need feel cut off from this

wonderful Source of love and guidance. What I can do, so can anyone. The peace is within,

and one can learn how to hold the link of prayer, while the dog barks, the babies scream in

the next garden, and even while the dustmen hold a competition as to who can throw the bin

farthest! Throughout all this commotion I have held the link of prayer but only after days of

practice. And how worth while it all is. To cast your burden on the Power within while you go

free; free of worry, free of fear, because you know that nothing you do, you do alone. Your

burdens are not lifted from you, but you are given the strength to carry them.

My first experience of light trance came at the beginning of our twenty-first sitting. The glow

from the electric fire had hardly faded when I became aware that I was witnessing an

extraordinary scene, of which I appeared to be a part and yet at the same time I was remote

from it. The setting was ancient Egypt, and in flashes of vision I saw the Pyramids and

several enormous statues, all in perfect condition, and now a few men wearing vividly striped

headdresses. Then I saw the Sphinx and I made a mental note that the nose was

undamaged, also that the paws were right out of the sand. Strange to relate I ‘saw’ all this

without moving from my vantage point which seemed to be on the steps of a large building.

Opposite to me across an open court was a huge temple with two square towers that

converged towards the top giving them a cunate design. Through the gateway between

these towers came a procession. Groups of people were carrying raised plinths on which

were sitting white oxen with very large up-curved horns hung with garlands of flowers. I

cannot say with certainty whether these were carved animals, but I sensed that they were

very much alive and quite used to being carried about on litters amidst all the dancing and

song that accompanied the festivity. My position changed imperceptibly, and I was in the

courtyard of the temple.

On my left was a colonnade leading towards the towers. I meticulously counted the columns;

there were ten of them. Now I began to soliloquize, “The Temple of Isis. This is not the time

of the ancient Pharaohs, it is the time of Ptolemy. . . Ptolemy II.” Two girls in clinging

garments were attending to the smoking braziers; their long black hair hung free under the

flimsy veiling which sparkled as they moved and was held in place by a circlet of gold curved

up into a serpent’s head over the forehead. A swirl of smoke blotted out the scene for a

moment and through the grey mist I saw a golden winged disc, and then some glorious

jewels that were gleaming on the headband of a man who was approaching me. I was

standing a little above him, and I gazed with fascination at the jewel-encrusted uraeus, the

serpent emblem, symbol of sovereignty. As he drew near he held out his hands and turned

an anxious face upwards. It was Rudy. As our hands met I was aware of a terrible fear—fear

for us—and the vision was gone.

Unlike Stanley I was not able to describe all this while it was being given to me, and I had to

wait until after the sitting to do so. However, this incident had explained the disjointed

phrases, and often the change of tense in Stanley’s interpretations. It is all very strange and

until I had experienced this ‘seeing’ and then ‘becoming part of,’ I had not realised the

difficulties which he had overcome in order to convey even an outline of the scenes, or a

fraction of the awareness. As this particular night, and the sitting a week later, are rather

remarkable in their variety and clarity of vision, I will recount the transmissions as given

through Stanley, whose voice now recalled me to the confines of the circle.

“I am standing in the forecourt of a medieval castle of about the 13th century. There’s a feast

in progress, a large animal is roasting whole on a spit, and there are dozens of chicken

roasting too! There’s a staircase built into the wall of the large hail into which I’m now

going . . . John? Were you a court jester in a previous incarnation?” This caused a general

laugh and after a while Stanley continued. “There’s a drawbridge. The portcullis is closed . . .

I’m going down into the dungeons. I see a nun, and a monk . . . an iron ball with spikes . . .

darkness . . . the last rites are being said. There’s a large table surrounded by many

people . . . Darkness.” This description was followed by a long pause (I have known a break

such as this last for twenty minutes). then on he goes again. “I can see a Crusader’s pennant

flying in the wind . . . Rome, in Caesar’s time . . . There are ten pillars to the Temple. A

pointed roof, like the Parthenon . . . large cathedral, many arches. We’re on very blue water

and passing some small islands, we seem to be travelling towards the Holy Land. Now we’re

met by a bearded Arab wearing a square turban. I’ll call him Abdullah! Sun is exceptionally

hot, sand everywhere I look, then scrub land. We’re travelling very fast and quite effortlessly.

There’s a prancing horse, long tail, honey-blonde colouring. Now the scrub land is dropping

down to the shores of a large lake, at the far end stands a domed temple, or mosque, y’know

what I mean, round cupolas. We take off our shoes before entering. The people sit on the

floor, though some are kneeling. They are eating dates and sweetmeats and drinking wine . .

. and water also. The women wear yashmaks . . .“ His voice trailed away into silence, and

the sitting closed.

A week later, Stanley continued just as if there had been no more than a few moments’

break, “There’s an Arab here again, square turban headdress, gold cord, he’s wearing a long

cloak we’re travelling again over vast distances and quite effortlessly. Scrub land, low hills,

we’re passing pyramids now. Much higher ground here, we meet a man whose smooth

helmet is decorated with rubies . . . many people are sitting around on small couches in a

blue and gold room, richly furnished but poorly lit. There’s a beautiful girl here with jewelled

ear-coverings that sweep round towards her cheeks. She’s not unlike you, Jean. I see an old

man with a long white beard, wearing a kind of monk’s habit . . . er . . . well, it has a hood,

but the cloak only comes to the knees. A baby is lying naked on white silk, I think it is to be

christened. I’m in a room with round windows.”

After a long pause he said. “I’m shown a beautiful red rose. There’s a bright light on the

horizon and it fills the sky, which is strange because it is night time. Oh, we’re away again,

just as before without effort. We’re approaching a Normandy castle, round towers, and a

river close by opening into the sea through a small town. Bideaux . . .Chartres - . . something

or other, I can’t get it clear. A man dressed in Elizabethan costume, also an Indian in a

turban that has a ruby in the centre, he is trading sapphires which sparkle like blue fire. Oh,

dear! Different period. We’re passing into a different period. Scotsmen wearing the kilt.

‘here’s a statue of a king in the middle of the road and a castle close by, also a cathedral . . .

very lovely.” Thus ended another evening, with our individual thanks spoken aloud to those

who had helped, for we realised that although we had no idea why we should be given this

sort of panorama, there must be a good reason.

In this strange manner we built up clearly defined themes, very often with several weeks

between one part and the other, and by the New Year we had many varied phases from

which to form a pattern. When French conditions were conveyed to us it was invariably the

Normandy district in the 18th century.

Then there was medieval Scotland, and China under the tyranny of the hordes of Genghis

Khan, the deserts too, as timeless and unchanging as the oceans. Often we were shown the

period of the Crusaders and the Saracens and magnificent scenes relating to the Red Indian

civilisation, and I use this word deliberately, for at all times we were presented with the

peaceful and natural way of life as lived by the tribes centuries ago, from the region of the

frozen tundra to the totem poles of the Columbian coastal tribes, and from the Indians of the

mountains and plains to the descendants of the South American Inca. Each locality showed

its own sign and symbol, obviously of great significance but which we were seldom able to

interpret.

A good deal of information gradually came our way, however, and I found that children’s

books were usually very informative, and since one feathered headdress looked the same as

another to me mine was a necessary education. Another more recent period and vaguely

touching our own lifetime was that of the 1914-18 war.

At Christmas I had received a greetings card from the dealer in Los Angeles enclosing a print

of Rudy’s bookplate inscribed Ex Libris Rudolph Valentino. The design was most intriguing.

In the foreground was a graceful white horse adorned with magnificent trappings, the

mounted rider was a Crusader who was turning in the saddle, his lance thrust downwards in

the direction of a kneeling Saracen soldier, who was wearing a helmet with a chain-mail neck

and shoulder guard (a camail). At the side of the crouching figure were several Arabs armed

with swords and spears in attacking formation with pennants flying from their lances. From

our “magic carpet” travels over the past few months, the garb of every figure was familiar—-

only Abdullah was missing!

Our twenty-fifth sitting fell on New Year’s Eve, which was also my birthday, and I celebrated

the dual events by falling ill. Nevertheless we held the séance as usual. I lay in bed and the

others sat as near to me as possible and we had a wonderful evening of clairvoyance! For

the first time Stanley referred to Rudy.

“Lynn, did Valentino ever wear the costume of a bull-fighter?”

“Yes,” I replied, “in the film ‘Blood and Sand,’ why do you ask?”

“He’s here tonight,” said Stanley simply.

In January 1957 I took Anthony to his first direct voice sitting. His health had improved

considerably over the last few months and it had not been necessary for him to undergo any

treatment, so Dr. Marcel’s advice of two years before had been justified by results. After only

a short while Anthony was quite at ease, answering the questions and joining in the laughter.

Sister Teresa asked if he had heard the September recording when Rudy had spoken, and

said they were disappointed we had no copy of the tape. In the course of a long conversation

she told us she was always present at our meetings at home, and instructed us to give out all

that we were seeing. “You do not always do this,” she said gently, “you are developing great

perception. and your husband too, but he does not say what he is getting from us although

he has great power.”

“Perhaps he is afraid as I am sometimes that it might be looked on as association of ideas or

imagination,” I said, “as for instance when I saw the Egyptian period,” I went on tentatively.

Without a second’s hesitation she exclaimed, “Well? Why is it not possible? You must

believe it is given to you by us. Tell the others. Ah! I have to go now.” Of course each one

leaves with his or her own affectionate blessing, and on this occasion she was followed by Dr

Marshall, who discussed Anthony’s approaching entry into the Merchant Navy and the date

when he was to join his first ship.

Then came my mother and her sister, Aunt Maud, who had passed over only the previous

July and whom Anthony knew well. He recognised her voice immediately she spoke,

because she managed the instrument remarkably well and her voice was strong and

powerful. Our next visitor, who was under the impression that she had spoken to us before,

possessed a warm Cockney accent and seemed rather surprised that I did not know her.

“Rose is the name, love. I used to ‘ave a stall, a flower stall.” “Was it near King’s Cross

Station?” Anthony asked her. He had missed the usual flower-seller outside this station when

he had come home for the school holidays. “No, bless you, dear, I’d a pitch in the Strand for

years. But I’m surprised I ‘aven’t spoken to you before,” she addressed me, “because you’re

here so often! Oh, I know, I’ve got it now, I’ve seen you here for the social evenings when

you talk of nothing but films! I’ve seen Valentino with you, y’know, around your conditions.

He’s often here.” I think I was supposed to make some sort of reply, but as I remained silent

she continued, “He’s a lovely young man and ‘as such a beautiful disposition.”

“I quite believe that, Rose, it does not surprise me at all,” I said with a smile. “Give him my

love, please.” Her laugh filled the room.

“Bless my soul, every woman in the world would like to do that!”

“Maybe, but how many have the chance?” I retorted. Her only answer was another infectious

laugh, and then she said, “I’ll see you again soon. I come along to your sittings too! Cheerio,

love.”

Rose made way for White Feather whose deep gentle voice made a great impression on

Anthony, and his last words to him were utterly beautiful: “Send out your thoughts to me

whenever you need help and I shall hear you. In time of trouble, of temptation, or in danger

of any kind and I will come to you, my son. My love to you both and to Brother John, and

know the blessing of the Great White Spirit is with you always. I am pleased that you are

coming again soon, I will speak with you.” So ended Anthony’s first encounter with the

beloved Souls who come to guide and lead us into a greater understanding of the Divine

Law.

As Stanley’s clairvoyance became steadier and his ability to describe the impressions he

received became more distinct, I noticed a certain rhythm in the recurrent themes. The

Arabian for instance would be followed by the Scottish, which in turn would give way to the

medieval period, punctuated, as it were, by signs and symbols — a red rose for love, a Latin

cross for service, a feather to denote wisdom, and no matter what part of the world we saw,

we were always shown the animals characteristic of that locality, and the conditions thereof,

which were not always desirable. It was in this way we localised the particular area of India

as being Kashmir by recognising the long silky hair of the Cashmere goat, and we rarely

visited elsewhere in India except during one evening’s journey when we followed the course

of the river Ganges, passing some of its more picturesque if unsavoury sections before

arriving where the delta fans out into the sea.

So from Kashmir and Tibet to China and Burma—where I was strongly drawn to the Assam

region (now probably part of East Pakistan)—we followed a definite Oriental sequence and

often sensed a Chinese influence, but whose symbol of the ivory rose we did not receive for

nearly two years. However, for sheer magnificence that beggared description, the time of

Rome in the Middle Ages must take first place. I always shrank at these graphic pictures of

popes, cardinals, church processions and pageantry of almost legendary beauty, and

although I often saw part of these scenes myself, I am sorry to say that I was rather

uncooperative on these evenings, my only excuse being that I have an unnatural dislike of

this period, and so has Jean, but the result of our aversion was that we saw more of them!

Our guides were patiently persistent when any of us tried to show discrimination, or even

preference for certain periods. We had to learn to accept what was given with open and

quiescent minds, and soon it became obvious that these various settings were brought to us

by different guides. It can be likened to the turning of the pages of a book compiled by

several authors, each one bringing his or her remembrance of earthly life, and as if to

confirm this conclusion at our next sitting with Leslie we met our Scots contact, who gave the

name of David.

He showed a particularly intimate knowledge of each one of us and said that he came along

most times to our meetings, and thought we would like to know he was around. He brought

with him a feeling of warmth and comradeship and made us laugh by calling us “a lot o’

Sassenachs.” When my mother came through I was again able to establish the truth of

reincarnation. She too had found this difficult to accept during her Earth life, but apart from

saying that it was not for everybody she did not dwell on it, but went on to say that the world

she was living in now was so beautiful that it was beyond her to find words that would

describe it even briefly. She spoke of my spiritual work in the future, and although she

mentioned Rudy she would not be drawn further on that subject.

During the discussion we had with Mickey he told us that we had an Indian maharajah who

came to assist us, but no name was forthcoming. The sitting closed with the sweet

benediction of White Feather’s personality.

John was developing clairvoyance rapidly, and often he and I saw the same thing

simultaneously but from a different aspect. We were also beginning to recognise

clairvoyance apart from possible imagination or association of ideas. Anything that was

connected with the process of thought took a few seconds to register, each detail shaping

itself comparatively slowly in relation to the back ground, whereas clairvoyant vision was as

comprehensive and rapid as the shutter of a camera. One impressive example was when we

saw clairvoyantly a man crucified on a rough cross; his arms were bent backwards over the

top of the cross and tied with thongs by the wrists. He had a powerful body, bronzed by the

sun, a long dark beard and tousled hair. I viewed the scene from above, and as his face was

turned upwards I could see that although the features were registering agony there was also

portrayed great strength of purpose, and I knew he was suffering for his beliefs. John’s

account was identical in detail but was not viewed from the same point, because the man

had been taken down from the cross and was leaning heavily against someone at its foot; he

was not dead.

As the weeks went by Abdullah was much in evidence at our meetings, and Rudy showed

himself many times to one or the other, but seldom to me. It was quite apparent, however,

that a good deal of the material we were receiving through Stanley’s conscious control was

coming from Rudy, and we began to recognise his quiet even flow of words and meticulous

exactitude for detail.

About this time I had two flash-backs to ancient Rome, both of which came to me during my

session half-hour and not, as one would expect, during our circle. In the first instance I saw

Rudy in very mundane surroundings, dressed as a Roman centurion. He seemed to be just

one of the rank and file. I was aware that we had known poverty and had shared the same

faith then, despite opposition, just as we do today. On the second occasion he had a vastly

different status. I was merely an observer and felt I had no part in those conditions. He was

wearing an imposing tunic and head-gear, with a stiff scarlet plume that swept down the

whole length of the blade that adorned the burnished helmet. His face was in profile as he

stood with his back half-turned to me. From his shoulders hung a long sheep-skin cloak of

thick creamy curls, which came to a point a little below the knee joint; one powerful arm was

holding the cloak aside, and there was a wide metal ornament on the wrist but I could not

see it in detail. He looked magnificent but rather awe-inspiring.

I did not disclose what I had seen to Stanley, yet, the sitting that followed plunged us into the

period of ancient Rome. After only a few moments there was a slight change in Stanley’s

voice, and beginning to speak in the first person he described many things; once he turned

to me and said, “We were together then, at the beginning of the second century.”

“Yes?” I queried, “Who is ‘we’?” There was no immediate reply, but before the sitting ended I

sent out the thought, “May I ask a question?” I did not speak, as the tape recorder proved

later, yet “Stanley” said, “What is it you want to know?” “Who are you, please?” There was a

slight pause, then just one word, “Rudy.”

In midsummer I had occasion to accompany a friend of ours when we went for a private

sitting with Leslie, at the end of which Mickey spoke to me and said that they were all looking

forward to our next meeting, which was booked for the end of August. “There’s a message

for you, from Rudy,” he added, but he did not say what it was, nor how I was to receive it.

Our friend with whom I sat was greatly comforted by the help he received, and after we left

Leslie’s I explained that I was going to a trance lecture that was being given that evening at

the Spiritualist Headquarters in Belgrave Square, through the medium Ursula Roberts. My

friend decided to come with me. The subject chosen by the guide, whose name Ram-a-Dahn

means Circle of Light, was “Spiritual Affinities.” He has a wonderful way of expressing

himself in rather poetic language, and exudes wisdom and peace. When my friend and I

arrived the room was so crowded that we had to go instead into the large lecture hail with

which I was not familiar, and as we finally settled down I noticed hanging on the wall behind

the platform where the medium stood, a head-and-shoulder portrait of someone in clerical

dress. He had dark hair, an oval-shaped head, and his face was rather pointed. I could not

see the name at the bottom of the picture as the room was in shadow.

Although we had arrived late I had been able to procure a question number. This is a slip of

paper on which is written a number from one to twelve, and entitles the holder to put a

question to the guide after the lecture is finished. It need have no relation to what has been

said, but it must be a general question and not a personal one. I had no idea what I wished

to ask; there were so many problems and all of them seemed equally urgent.

Every guide and teacher who uses an earthly medium has his own individual understanding

of the Law according to his experience and progress. I am pointing this out because I know

some people have been puzzled when they find that certain guides disagree in some

measure from one another, but it is usually a small margin of difference, for in Essence they

are all one. The theme of the lecture presented so constructively by Ram-a Dahn was that, in

the more evolved stages of life in the Spirit world, Soul Affinities are grouped together. All of

them are individual, yet all of them are complementary to one another and are bound

together by a love so great that it is impossible to convey it in words. Spiritual love, service,

rapture, and ecstasy were some of the words he used. The completed Group radiates the

power and love of God in such a way that it forms a tremendous prayer and healing centre.

The Group forms over thousands of years, each member bringing the sum total of

experience gained through many lives to the pool of common knowledge, and it is the desire

of those who have evolved more quickly to lead and guide the rest; to do this they draw close

to those still incarnate, and through whom the Group leaders are able to work.

In this way an evolved Group member may draw to him not only close affinities, but potential

affinities also. There is no segregation of colour, class or creed, or good or bad. Should they

come under the last heading the persons concerned are young in life experience and must

be patiently taught. There are no outcasts or displaced persons under, the guardianship of

the Great Ones.

Soon the numbers were being called and the questions answered, yet my mind was still a

blank. My number was 6 and a split second before it was called my eyes were drawn to the

portrait, now a little to the left of the medium. The outline had completely changed! I blinked,

but still the alteration persisted. I saw a round- shaped head, square firm shoulders, small

ears and distinctly arched eyebrows. It was the Wykeham Studio portrait of Rudy that Leslie

has in the séance room—I was already saying “Ram a-Dahn, in the Group, or in a potential

group still forming, is there a dominant soul whose way of life or personal magnetism is such

that it draws a great number of people to him? I have felt an influence like this since I was a

child.”

Ram-a-Dahn replied that this was a perfect example of what he meant by a potential affinity,

but there was not a dominant soul. The more experienced a soul was the more spiritual he

became, and in his love could draw many of the less experienced to him. With my eyes still

held by the familiar outline, I thanked Ram-a-Dahn and the next number was called, which

was over on the far side of the hall. The medium turned towards the enquirer—stopped—

turned again towards me and said, “One moment, please. No. 6?”

“Yes,” I replied, and Ram-a-Dahn spoke to me slowly as if repeating words which were being

dictated to him. “I am told to say to you, that you are a member of the Group you are thinking

of NOW.” My throat felt restricted and I do not know if he heard my murmured thanks as his

words ended. The picture returned to normal and I saw later it was a portrait of the Rev. Vale

Owen.

At last some of the queries of the past two years were beginning to be answered, and it

remained for me and the others to make ourselves worthy for use as instruments for the

Group of which we were obviously a part. For there is not one human soul that does not

belong to one of the many Groups guiding and caring for this little planet under the direction

of the Masters.

3

THE THIRD AUTUMN

IT had been many weeks since we had a sitting with Leslie and it was difficult to know what

question held precedence, but once contact was made, John opened the-conversation by

telling Mickey that I had been aware of Rudy’s presence at Leslie’s during the showing of a

cine film of Italy the previous Sunday. Before Mickey could answer I interrupted, “Not only

then, Mickey, I believe he has often come to us at home during our sittings.” “I know that,”

Mickey replied with emphasis, and thus encouraged I went on: “You see, it’s difficult for me,

because of my own interest, not to feel that I may be influencing the circle. I can’t afford to do

this, nor to indulge in wishful thinking and perhaps quite unconsciously delude myself.

Another thing, Mick, while I’ve the confidence to speak openly, I’ve thought a great deal

about the message I received two months ago from Ram-a-Dahn, and if you could elaborate

upon it, it may explain many things.”

“You should have no doubt about it,” he said firmly. Gone was the Cockney accent, gone

was the shrill little voice and pitched laugh, and now, speaking in smooth modulated tones,

he allowed his true character to be revealed. “You must realise we have all been brought

together for a purpose, for a great Truth. Some of us you know, like Rudy and Ram-a-Dahn,

others you do not know. They may not be as interested in individuals as they are in the

group. We do not see people in the same way as you do in the material world. Each one is

here to bring enlightenment and the ways of the Spirit are often strange.” He paused. “Lynn

is afraid that in her intensity she may be deceiving her self,” he explained to the others. “She

shouldn’t have any doubt about it. We’re all members of the Godhead, and we’re all here to

give service and help. The personal aspect, as such, does not enter in.”

We asked him if he knew what was our ultimate objective in being asked to sit for

development and he said, “I don’t think that those who help you know that! But don’t worry

about the outcome. It will be a good one for which you’re going through the probationary

period.”

Then I asked if some of the things that we had seen related to reincarnation and Mickey

spoke at length. “Reincarnation is so obvious that I can’t understand intelligent people

doubting it! The fact that you can’t remember is neither here nor there. The point is, if you

remembered too much you would always be on the defensive, avoiding mistakes, instead of

overcoming them. What ever your life you must learn from it and if you knew as actual facts

the mistakes made previously, you would refrain from doing something because of fear of

the consequences, rather than because of natural inclination. You may be given certain

information about the Past, which is important because the Present moment is a product of

the Past, and the Present moment ordains what you will become in the Future. Life is a

training ground, so do the utmost you can. Be loving, co-operative, kind, and make life

wonderful and yourselves strong in the process of learning your guides are all here, I don’t

know why I’m expected to answer these questions!” he exclaimed suddenly, with a return to

his usual gaiety.

Stanley seized the opportunity by saying, “In that case, Mick, as they are all here, we’re very

interested to know the identity of the one we call Abdullah.” “W-e-l-l ,“ Mickey drawled,

“Abdullah is one name . . . it’s as good as another, isn’t it? Let’s just call him Abdullah! Not

the cigarettes, of course.” Mickey joined in our laughter and seemed to enjoy evading the

question, but I wondered if we were being rather too personal, so I asked him, “Are we

allowed to question as much as we do?” “You seem to do it anyway,” he replied quickly. “We

answer you if it is for your good . . . but . . . when it comes to probing into the secret identity

of a certain person under a pseudonym . . .“ Mickey’s voice broke with subdued laughter,

“this ‘Abdullah’ used to have his initials on his cigarettes.”

Leslie and I broke into excited exclamations but I do not think the others had realised the

significance behind the remark, and Mickey protested humorously, “Don’t put the blame on

me, I haven’t told you anything!” “Oh yes you have, Mick!” I said. “It means that ‘Abdullah’s’

initials were R. V. G.!” (Rudolph Valentino Guglielmi).

In the quiet refined voice that precedes a more serious subject Mickey offered an explanation

in this manner: “You must bear in mind that those who come to you, particularly the one you

are most interested in, have lived not only in one incarnation, but in many. Sometimes

deliberately, they may assume a name or title from a previous incarnation to hide the identity

of the last one, particularly if the name was well known. You know only too well what people

would say—’ How can we accept this? What a lot of rubbish!’ So, it is not done with the

intention of deceiving you, but in order that the quality of the message, which is always good,

shall not be set aside. Later, when they have proved their worth more to your satisfaction,

they will be prepared to reveal themselves even more . . . so, red roses . . . initialed

cigarettes, cobra mascots on cars. . .

A wave of happiness filled the room as each one realised that so much in our own circle had

been interpreted correctly. It was neither Stanley’s desire to please nor my own interest that

had been influencing us, and Mickey’s next remark proved this. “All this is rather hard on old

Stan, you know, he’s placed in an invidious position. He is a medium, and as such he must

feel sensitive if his friends doubt him . . .“ We interrupted here to protest that we did not

doubt Stanley. “I know, I know,” he rejoined, “but at the same time you have on occasions

found it difficult to accept what has come through him.” John denied this, but Mickey was not

to be put off. “Shut up, John! Let me say it in my own way,” he said as John had started to

say: “What you mean is . . .“ Mickey laughed, took a deep breath and started again, “You

and the others that are involved, and I do not mean the circle, are drawn together to help

Humanity and others into Enlightenment.”

A stranger to the subject may find the latter part of the preceding sentence a little odd. What

does Mickey mean when: he says, “Humanity and others into Enlightenment”? Therefore I

will illustrate the point briefly. When a group of souls, incarnate and discarnate, meet

together with the view of making communion, although there may be only four or five on the

physical side, on the Spirit side of life there can be a considerable number drawn to such a

sitting. The guides and teachers occasionally allow a newly passed or bewildered soul to

draw close, in order that help and understanding can be given to him or to her.

“Yes,” I said, “I realise this. Perhaps it is strange, but I have been the one who has found it

difficult to accept Rudy’s presence……” “The truth is,” Mickey interrupted, “you cannot

understand why a certain person should come to you! You feel insignificant, but you are not

as insignificant as you think! It may be that one link is stronger than the others, but we are all

God’s children. It is good to feel humble sometimes, but this is not the attitude we like to

encourage towards us and you must learn to accept this contact with Rudy in the normal

way. Remember, as a soul evolves and attains a high position among others, the more

spiritual, more loving, and more understanding that soul becomes. You should not say ‘Why

should he come to me?’ but ‘Why shouldn’t he!’ Don’t worry about the link, it is being

strengthened, not broken. When you have complete trust and faith amongst yourselves,

when you can accept without doubt and fear the identity of those who come to you, then, the

circle will make more progress. This does not mean that you must not use your own

intelligence! You may get something that strikes you as not being correct. Accept it for the

time being although you do not understand it, and then if necessary discard it later. You will

have some soul-searching to do, but do not let it worry you. No medium is perfect, not even

the best ones, and even good communicators have difficulties at times, but do not let it

disturb you if things sometimes get confused.”

A little later Rudy transmitted through Mickey an answer to a question (the nature of which

was personal to himself) and drew comparison with his own life in these words: “He says, his

past experience is like a closed book, but it can be read and digested and others can learn

from it. He does not care who reads the book (I’m not sure what he means quite,” Mickey

said as an aside, “but I think he is referring to his Earth life), we are all human and we all

make mistakes, and others can learn from them. The pages are turned, but it is still only one

chapter of one volume among many. Although he values the Past and the experience it gave

him, he is more concerned with the Present and the Future. He has many friends and he

values all the love they give him, but unless his friends in turn try to serve, their friendship is

value less.”

Sister Teresa, White Feather and David followed, in that order, and Stanley told David that

sometimes he felt rather depressed when certain people drew near to him during a sitting.

David explained, “You must remember that all sorts of souls are attracted to you, and you

may pick up their thought conditions. Anyway, this happens very rarely. You had red roses in

your circle last week,” he said suddenly. “Yes,” John agreed, “you must mean the roses we

sent here for Rudy’s anniversary.”

“No. I mean in your home, at the sitting,” David replied, “right next to the little picture.” It is a

custom in our house to place flowers next to a photograph on an anniversary of a member of

the family—never on the grave—and Rudy was no exception.

There were live tiny rose buds on the dressing-table that evening, next to the photograph.

“Fancy you knowing a little thing like that!” I exclaimed. “A-ah! I know that!” he said gently.

Mickey came through again towards the end of the séance.

“Your father sends his love to you, Stan; your brother sends his too. Your mother sends her

love to you, Lynn . . . the power is going . . . Rudy sends his love . . . come again soon. Fix it

up with Flinty . . . Bye-bye. . . . Jeanie, John, bless you all.” His voice trailed away into a faint

whisper as the last word was spoken.

Leslie began to speak almost immediately. “It’s a strange thing. The times I sit, day in, day

out, and I never get a message from Valentino! I didn’t say anything tonight but I hoped he

would speak . . . well . . . he has in an indirect way. At one time I used to be in fairly frequent

communication with him, but I don’t suppose I have spoken to him half a dozen times in the

last two years.” I warmed to Leslie as he said this, because for some time I had felt what I

can only describe as an undercurrent in his attitude towards me. He had become more

reserved in regard to his spiritual contact with Rudy, and he made no attempt to hide his

opinion that he thought Valentino and Spiritualism were not a suitable combination for a

woman’s romantic temperament.

I could not wholly disagree with him in this respect. I was fully aware of the hazards, but too

reserved to try to convince him of my emotional stability. Neither will I pretend that I always

accepted Rudy’s elusiveness calmly, for each time I hoped he would come through and

speak. On the rare occasions I had seen his films recently at the Film Theatre I found I was

not over-receptive to his personality on the screen, but I was particularly vulnerable to his

presence in the séance room, and as time passed I began to despair of ever hearing him

again. The leaves were golden-yellow for the third time since that memorable evening when

the B.B.C, presented the programme “Quest for Valentino”, quest did they say?

The fact that one dedicates oneself to service does not bring with it an immunity from the

usual trials that beset the average family. On the contrary it would seem quite often that a

reverse fortune opposes the progress one is trying to make. Thus it was, as we continued to

look forward to a happy future, that Stanley’s health suddenly gave us cause for alarm, and

he was advised by his own doctors to have a complete rest. We naturally consulted Dr.

Marshall also, who advocated not only a physical rest but a mental one too, and our sittings

with Stanley were interrupted for nearly two months, during which time, however, John, Jean

and I sat as usual.

The Christmas season was only a few weeks off by the time Stanley’s business worries and

his health condition made it possible for him to be at peace with himself and once again

complete the foursome. Therefore the sitting we attended at Leslie’s following this break was

something of a reunion. When greetings had been exchanged and order established, Dr

Marshall gave a discourse on the art of living in two different worlds by saying: “With this

great Truth, this great Knowledge, you have to achieve balance. You will meet many

difficulties, and you must accept the fact that you live in a material world. You can only do a

certain amount, endeavouring to do what you can, where you can, and all you can, to serve.

But it must not interfere with the ordinary things of life to the extent that you cannot

concentrate. You have to learn to live in two worlds at the same time; it is a sort of Jekyll and

Hyde existence. It is not very satisfactory, but the best that can be done while you are in a

physical world. Keep a balanced outlook. Take all that we give you, walk harmoniously with

us, link yourselves with us and work with us. Do your share and let everything fall into place,

in its proper perspective.

“We will help to guide, guard and protect you, but you have your own personal lives and your

own development to fulfil, and you have every right to fulfill it, following us as best you can.

We cannot and we do not wish to interfere with your lives. Whatever you develop must come

from within yourselves. We may point a finger this way or that, and advise you, as we do. but

remember it falls on you to develop yourselves; no one can do it for you. So be sensible,

conscientious and happy. Don’t worry over what we are trying to do. You must have had

enough of me! There are others who wish to talk to you. God bless you.”

Dr. Marshall was followed by a French scientist called Pierre, who warned us that we may

not obtain any results for weeks on end. He told us that that is usually the time when the

guides and workers on the Other Side are most busy, and he commented, “You must not

say, ‘0-oh! Nussing again tonight!’ We experiment all the time. I wanted to speak with you, I

long time wish for it but . . . uh! There are so many peoples . . . there are a lot here now.

Monsieur Valentino, he is present. I know you wish to talk to him, but I do not know if he can

manage. He is ver’ close to all that you do, but he wants you to treat him . . . as a man,

y’know, not as a god!” My thoughts flashed out in semi-defiant humour, ‘We’ve had no

chance to treat him as anything yet!’ If Pierre caught this thought I don’t know, but he made

no mention of it as he went on to say, “All who come here are members of the same family,

no one is . . . how you say? a god, y’know?”

John broke in protestingly to say how very great was the difference between Spirit people

and average mortals, who for their own emotional protection had to hide their true selves

under a hard, impenetrable exterior in order to live in this world, but that when we meet these

wonderful souls who come to teach us, it is difficult for us to distinguish between adoration

and love. “Surely,” he said finally, “as a scientist you must realise this.” “Oh. oh,” laughed

Pierre, “you are telling me my job, eh?”

A little later he admitted that it was only natural to feel deeply as we did sometimes, and he

ended with these words following a short discourse on the power within: “We cannot all be

Saviours, but we can all be disciples. To be a Saviour the realisation must come from within,

the realisation of God, the Divine Spark in each one. No one can save you, every man must

save himself. I must go now. Au revoir.”

Mickey chatted for a little while and then, “Hello!” a quiet voice interposed — nothing more.

My mother spoke to us and sympathised with ‘Mr. Flint’ over his cold and just as she was

wishing us a happy Christmas, “Hello! I understand you want to speak to me” came the soft

tone, but before anyone could answer Leslie had a violent spasm of coughing, and as this

passed the speaker tried for the third time, “I’m still trying to speak to you. Can you hear me?

I’m not as clear as I think I should be!” “Oh, you’re all right!” John replied jauntily, and without

a second’s pause the voice answered, “I accept the fact that I’m all right! What name shall I

give you?”

I hesitated at the hint of mystery regarding our communicator, and trying to control the

tension I said, “Give me the name I best know you by.” Silence. So I struggled on, “I don’t

recognise your voice, so give me the name I know you by now . . .“ and he did just that!

“Can ye no’ hear wha’ I’m saying?”

“David! You rascal!” I exploded.

The tension completely went as he continued, “So long as you can hear me. Thought you’d

like to know I’m around. It’s difficult to know what name to give you.”

“Why David?” I queried.

“Argh!” he exclaimed. “We’ve had many names, in many parts of the world at different times .

. . anyway, David’s all right.”

Stanley was moving in on the scent by this time. “Did you live in a castle on the edge of a

loch?”

“Aye, a long time ago . . . but I’m not the Loch Ness monster!” he laughed.

With my curiosity thoroughly roused I enquired, “Who are you, David? It’s your fault if we’re

curious!”

But we could not get him to be serious tonight. “You know all about ‘Abdullah’ don’t you?

We’re very good friends, we were once related. What about the time in ancient Rome?”

“What about it?” I asked excitedly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased me. It was quite evident we were not going to get

very far. I tried again just before he left us to get some information out of him, particularly as

all four members of our circle felt a strange attraction for a certain place in Roman Britain,

and I therefore asked David a leading question: “Had Verulamium anything to do with us in

the past?”

“Aye,” he replied, “that was one part of it. I’ve always been attached to the military, damn it!

And tied up with wars. I’ve more sense now, I’m not coming back!” “Neither am I if I can help

it,” I said. “Do you know, David, once when Rudy was speaking through Stanley he told me I

had chosen to come back!” My voice expressed the doubt I felt over this statement, a doubt

that was not shared by David as he said emphatically, “Aye, and what a hell of a mess

you’ve made of it!”

“Have I?” I said rather sadly, but with some surprise that he should know so much about me.

“Never mind, you’ve come out on top but it’s taken you a darn long time!” “You’re in fine fettle

today, David,” John commented, “you’re usually so . . .“

“Sober!” David prompted.

“Yes,” John replied, “but now you seem so alive!”

“What do you mean . . . alive! I’m more alive than you are!” David laughed.

“You’re getting to know u, aren’t you?” I said.

“Yes, at last. Getting familiar with you all,” David answered.

For the last time before the power gave out I appealed to him, I wish you’d say who you were

. . . or perhaps I should say, who you are!” His voice was serious when he answered. “When

the time is ripe you’ll be told all that is necessary. A little confusion is good for you, it helps to

train your awareness and you’re not doing too badly, but don’t take me too seriously. Goodbye,

God bless you all.”

My mother closed the sitting for us that evening and finally she said, “Rudy sends his love,

he’s sorry he couldn’t come through. Come again soon.”

And with their affectionate blessings we were left to face another span of weeks in which to

assimilate the lesson of patience. As if to put us to the test and to observe if we had learned

the lesson given by Pierre, the following five weeks produced hardly anything in the way of

clairvoyance, or any other manifestation.

The feeling of disappointment over this unexpected lack of material was offset for John and

me by the pleasure that we found in making arrangements for a holiday in Italy. We were

going to Rome, and then far south to Taranto to visit Rudy’s home town of Castellaneta,

where my recently acquired friend Signor Franco Loglisci was expecting us. He had kept up

a frequent correspondence with me ever since he had sent the photograph of the house

where Valentino was born. I was learning Italian at night school, and we were able to

exchange limited but interesting letters.

Therefore at the end of the sitting we had with Leslie in February 1958, I tried to pin David

down to telling us something about Rome, and I made no attempt to disguise the fact that I

wanted to know who he was and where we all fitted in, to which he replied, “You’re trying to

probe!”

“Yes, I am,” I admitted, “we’re meant to, aren’t we?”

He spoke quietly as he said, “Identity is something people like to keep to themselves, and

often there is a special reason for doing so—anyway, I’m not answering your question.” Then

he relented slightly by saying, “How many lives has a cat?”

“Come on, David,” John urged him, “what do you know?”

“I know you’re going to Italy . . . on a shoestring!” was the firm reply, and how right he was!

“But you’ll be down here again before you go.”

“We won’t!” we chorused. “We’re going at the end of April.”

“You’ll be here again before you go!” he repeated. We did not argue, and the sitting

continued with a good deal of light-hearted banter between David and John, who waxed

enthusiastic over the subject of films and photographs, and was told to sit back on his chair! I

was particularly quiet. For some time I had developed what appeared to be a fantastic

theory, and I was anxious to put it to the test.

“David,” I said suddenly, “will Maria be there?”

“Which Maria?” he answered just as quickly. “There are thousands in Italy.”

“I mean Rudy’s sister.”

“She might come if she is invited,” he replied, “but it’s no use asking Alberto.” (Rudy’s elder

brother.)

“No?” I questioned. “He’s in America, I believe.” It was my turn now to lean forward in my

chair, and David continued: “Yes. He has been ill, very ill . . . I’ll tell you that.” There was

something in his voice that told me my suspicion was correct—but John was speaking. “Will

you be at Castellaneta, David?”

I waited with bated breath, as he replied slowly and with much deliberation, “Aye. But I won’t

be wearing. . . ma. . . K-I-L-T !“ I was right. ‘David’ was Rudy!

I felt very satisfied that my sense of awareness had developed to this extent and I laughingly

chided him. “I should think not! It doesn’t suit you.” John was puzzled by this remark, but like

Jean and Stanley he realised that something was being put over, and he interrupted us to

say, “You people have such lovely personalities. . .“ ‘David’ cut in, “It isn’t the...’ and then he

stopped. I knew he was going to say that it is not the personality that matters.

“I like fencing with you, David,” John said.

“I was interested in fencing,” ‘David’ replied, but John chatted on happily: “We don’t always

get the information we want but—“

Once again ‘David’ cut in, “I never got what I wanted, but we all get what we deserve.” I

asked a personal question at this point to which he replied, “When the time is ripe I’ll tell you

all 1 want you to know. You know more than you should at the moment! Anyway, what’s in a

name? ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’ God bless you all, and RED

ROSES TO THE LOT O’ YOU !“

Our thanks had hardly been expressed when Leslie switched on the light without his usual

warning, and glaring across at me he snapped, “What’s the idea of Valentino coming as a

Scotsman? It doesn’t make sense!”

“He has his reasons,” I answered just as abruptly. Leslie snorted, and as he lit a cigarette his

face was slightly flushed. “Why can’t he come as himself? He always used to!” Then he

shrugged his shoulders, flicked the burnt-out match into the ashtray and stalked out of the

room. I can honestly say it was the first and the only time I saw Leslie Flint show any form of

annoyance in the séance room. I could not explain the difficulties that Rudy had encountered

in making contact with us. One was the un-intentional barrier created by my over-cautious

attitude, another was the difficulty of establishing his personality in such a way that we would

not reject it, by attributing his presence either to a desire to please on the part of a member

of the circle, or to wishful thinking.

To overcome these obstacles he had risked temporarily displeasing his own medium who

naturally felt it was an unnecessary deception, but whose annoyance was very short-lived,

for within a few minutes Leslie had joined in the merriment, as I recounted some of my

remarks to ‘David’ over the past few months! But that was not all, for I knew now that Rudy

had acted as spokesman for Dr Marcel way back in 1955, which caused Leslie to comment

upon the voice. In other words, he had never failed to respond to my sincere desire to be

allowed to know him. and above all to work with him in Spiritual Service. If it were not for this

aspect it is doubtful if the contact would ever have been made. It was very obvious that he

intended to divulge his identity to us that night, and that was his reason for saying that we

should visit Leslie’s again before we went to Italy. But not even he could have foreseen just

how ironic his words would prove to be.

It was about five weeks before we were due to leave for Italy that Anthony returned home on

leave after his second trip to South Africa. One look told me all was not well. There was

something odd about one eye. It looked as if a cataract might be forming, and he thought he

had received an insect bite during the outward journey since his vision had become misty,

but as there was no discomfort he had not reported it to the ship’s doctor. Such is the

inexperience of youth! A few days before he arrived in England he realised he had lost the

sight of one eye completely.

He went immediately to the eye hospital where he was told nothing could be done, as the

cause of the injury could not be found and nothing showed on the X-ray plates. This

statement was confirmed when we went with him two days later. We asked for further X-rays

to be taken and also for another opinion, which was arranged for the end of the week. On the

Friday morning the X-ray photographs were taken from a different angle and one of them

distinctly showed a foreign body in the front of the eye. After some deliberation the specialist

agreed that Anthony must undergo an operation.

As we left the hospital I telephoned Leslie, who was able to give us an emergency sitting

within the hour. We had barely turned the light off when Mickey spoke. “Hello, love. We’ve

been expecting you ever since Wednesday. Hold on! Dr. Marshall is here.”

“Well, my dear,” came Charles’s soothing voice “this is a most unfortunate incident. Anyway

you will have realised that we have done much in moving the steel splinter to the front of the

eye, but naturally it needs the surgeon’s skill to remove it. There are complications. If I had

known of it sooner I could have done a great deal, but this was quite unknown to us because

Anthony did not register any mental agitation caused by physical discomfort, and as you

know we are attuned only to the mental state. The steel has rusted and the back of the eye is

badly damaged. The sight will be restored 70 per cent to 80 per cent, but he may require a

contact lens, as the lens of the eye is destroyed. It will never be 100 per cent. Now, Tony, I

want you to think back to when you were on the previous trip, not this last one. . . .“

Then slowly and persistently Charles prompted Anthony’s memory back to a certain period

when he had used a very coarse steel-wool abrasive to clean the outside rims of several

portholes, a daily chore which entailed his leaning backwards in an awkward position, often

in a terrific wind, and a microscopic piece of the abrasive wool had worked itself into the eye.

The rusting of this had set up the condition that had eventually destroyed the lens. With this

help and guidance we proceeded to make arrangements for the operation, which actually

took place the week that we should have left for Italy. Naturally, our holiday had to be

cancelled. Anthony underwent three operations during the following fifteen months, with

complete faith and trust. The portion of steel splinter was removed with, remarkable skill, and

will be preserved in the files for ten years at the eye hospital concerned. His sight is restored

50 per cent and after a medical examination he was accepted back into the Merchant Navy

two years later.

While Anthony was in hospital John and I had been to another Ram-a-Dahn lecture in which

he had made clear the necessity of lifting one’s thoughts to a higher level during a séance, in

order to be more in tune with those who are trying to reach us. He emphasised the need for

humbleness, not to be shown to those who come to us, but towards the wonder of this

communication. John is lacking in imagination, and although he understood what was

required of him he found it difficult to put into practice and asked me if I could help him. So at

our next sitting at home I took my courage in both hands and, speaking aloud, I led the

thoughts of the circle into what I called “The Garden of Sweet Devotion” in which I had found

the mental seclusion necessary for my daily intercessions.

“To meet those in Spirit in fullness of thought, away from the turbulent conditions of this

world, it is well to imagine a place suitable for such a meeting. Remember also that this

creation by prayer can actually come into being in the spheres of the next world where

Thought is all-powerful.

“Visualise a quiet green glade where the trees and shrubs sweep down to tranquil waters.

You are alone, and being so sure of solitude and desirous of seeking contact with Higher

Beings, you kneel; not in supplication but in humbleness, asking that your prayers may be

answered. How you word your invocation or to whom is a matter for each individual. To each

his own. Your thoughts must not be to bring the loved one or loved ones to you, but rather

that you yourself may be made worthy to do the work of Spirit. Then bring forward the names

and conditions of those for whom you are asking help or healing. Ask for comfort and the

light of knowledge to surround them, then give out all the love that the soul can muster, all

the love that the heart (being human) longs to bestow perhaps on one person, and let it

surge upward like the jet of a fountain to reach the glory of the Light. As each particle

absorbs the Essence of All Life, it will turn and fall in a cascade of loving thoughts towards

those you have sought to help.

“At first this lovely place is lush and green but devoid of flowers, yet as you learn to give to

others without a thought of self or of reward, a flower will spring into being amidst the

greenery. It will shine with a soft iridescence, having petals like mother-of-pearl and a

glowing heart of gold from which your thoughts will continue to reach the person you have

named. So the continuous flow of healing power speeds on its way. In this manner your

Garden of Sweet Devotion takes shape, and the flowers will fill the air with sweetness and

melody, and as Ram-a-Dahn so aptly expresses it, ‘the lilies of Prayer will bloom on the

pools of Peace.’ Even so, there must still be progress, and this beautiful garden must in due

course be left for greater things. “When you come to this point and you turn to look back at

what is after all your own achievement, it is only natural to feel a little pride, but as you do not

wish to blight this joyful place where weary ones will find solace, so should your pride bow

before the eternal words, ‘Thy Will be done.’”

It would be futile to linger over the observation that these words were not mine, although I

uttered them. I had been used for conscious control on previous occasions in an inspirational

sense, which meant I had to “think out” the phrases to use, but I had not been used in such a

direct way before.

As this night provided something of a prelude to the unexpected ascent to the Higher

Spheres that we were to make at our next sitting with Leslie Flint, it seems a propitious

moment to demonstrate through the medium of a letter written by Valentino in 1923 how

wonderfully the power of Spirit controls those of us who, consciously or unconsciously, are

open to receive its outpourings. It was many months after the sitting referred to that I was

given a copy of a letter that he wrote to the American public, following his suspension from

film-making through the difficulties he encountered with those to whom he was under

contract. I was struck by the extraordinary implications, considering he was quite oblivious of

his true destiny. I will quote excerpts from the first part of this letter, omitting only one

paragraph which deals with technicalities.

An open letter from Valentino

January 1923

“To my dear Friends,

In the past few months I have received many thousands of letters from my friends in the

motion picture audiences of America, asking me why I had ceased to make pictures and

what I intended to do in the future. [Second paragraph omitted.] It is a great privilege,

therefore, to be able to talk to you through the pages of Photoplay magazine, for which I

have a great admiration because it has always been fair and impartial to producers, actors

(whether they are stars or not), authors, and directors.

It was you, the fans, who made me. When I played “Julio” in “The Four Horsemen” no one in

the industry expected me to become a star. I did not dare hope for such a thing. But you

discovered me and created me. Your kindness came to me at a time when it seemed that

things could not be more desolate. You made theatre managers know me and you caused

film magazines and newspapers to be conscious of me. I am more grateful than you will ever

know.

It is a great honor but a greater responsibility. Idols are created to be shattered. My pedestal

is at present a little too high to be entirely comfortable. I feel too humble for such an altitude.

In the very nature of things I know that I cannot occupy such a position very long. But before

I fall I hope to bring you my little best, as my gesture of thanks, for all that you have brought

to me. You write and tell me that I bring Romance into your lives. You say I give you color

and beauty and dreams. I wish I had more English words at my command to express what

such faith in me means. It is so difficult for me to show you that this has not made me proud

of myself but rather very humble and eager to serve you. Please do believe that!

Perhaps I can best explain it by saying that it makes me feel that personally I do not matter. I

feel as though I were simply a medium through which these things were being given to you.

It is that I feel quite unreal. The Rudolph Valentino you have brought forth is very different

from the Rudolph Valentino who actually is. I assure you he is quite a commonplace fellow.

But this other Valentino, this shadow personality, must dedicate himself to the work you

expect of him. For him there is only work, constant creative work. He must strive to show you

the beauty and joy of love, the radiance of life and the tragedy of death. He must try to live

for you those dreams that you may not have been able to work out for yourself. He can no

longer belong entirely to himself. . .”

From the day a young man of twenty-eight wrote those words, the pages turn forward thirtyfive

years to April 22nd, 1958, when that same young man speaks again. Behind him now

are the experiences of many lives, and just as Valentino could sit and watch a varied

cavalcade of film roles pass before his eyes, knowing he played each part, so he can look

back from his more evolved state of being and see his various incarnations in relation to

each other.

So it was that on this “memorable evening,” as he expressed it, it was not just Rudolph

Valentino who spoke, but the true individual whose spiritual identity remains obscure. There

is nothing exceptional in this situation. We are all evolving, and the path of progress is open

to every soul. To distinguish this higher aspect, as Leslie calls it, I have often referred to it as

Rudy-Plus! The voice is the same yet the quality can be quite different; the accent is barely

discernible but the characteristics remain distinctly his own. This can be likened to a piece of

music played on two pianos, one an upright model of average tone, the other a concert

grand. The notes and theme would be the same, but you would know without doubt which

piano was which.

We met together in great happiness on this occasion. Leslie was in a particularly hilarious

frame of mind, and during the long waiting period which seems to vary with every sitting, he

kept us in fits of laughter with his reminiscences of childhood, when he used to accompany

his Granny to the pictures! It was from a seat in the “sevenpennies” on one of these outings

that he sat spellbound for the first time under the influence of Valentino, in the romantic and

magnificent costumes of the 18th century, as portrayed in the film “Monsieur Beaucaire.”

How remote it all seemed! Suddenly, all was quiet. Then Leslie spoke, “I’m getting those

wonderful words from the Book of Ruth. Do they mean anything to you? ‘Whither thou goest,

I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. . . .‘ Do you know them, Lynn?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I do know them but I don’t always quote them correctly. I have repeated

them within the last few days, during my sessions.” Mickey’s cheerful little voice told us that

the conditions necessary for communication had been reached. Charles (Dr. Marshall),

Sister Teresa and White Feather led us by easy stages to the moment which preceded the

long-awaited communicator.

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