A couple of days ago I accidentally erased an entry, in which I discussed how accurate my two psychic mediums were back in 2010, when I had done very little research into the life of Mathew Franklin Whittier. If you have watched as many mediums working on YouTube as I have--it must be several hundred sessions, by this time, covering perhaps 15 different mediums--you would know that this is a real phenomenon. These top mediums can get as many as three or four names, without any mistakes; they can get extremely specific details that they would have no possible way of knowing, like the pet name your grandfather had for you, or what you called him, as a child; or the lullaby that your mother sang to you. The list of examples goes on. This has been studied in a laboratory setting by Dr. Gary Schwartz, who has better academic credentials than you do, or than any of your professors had, or than anyone you have ever met, personally. So don't tell me his research methods are faulty, unless you have a source for that charge with better academic credentials than he has.
Now, I had the whim to go through each of the two readings from 2010, point-for-point, and where I can, to show you pieces of corroborating evidence from the deep historical record for Mathew Franklin Whittier. I will not be able to corroborate the evidence, itself, because if I did, I'd have to re-write my 2,240-page book (or whatever it is now), and the sequel, which comes in at 350 or so. In other words, if I give you a poem which is historically attributed to Elizabeth Barrett (Browning), and I say it was written by Mathew, you will have to go to the books to see my evidence for that. I never assert anything I don't have good evidence for, but I can't take the time out to prove these attributions, in this context. So I will simply assert it as something I have proven beyond a reasonable doubt, and you can read my books if you would wish to seriously challenge that. (Unserious challenges--the kind where you expect me to do all the work--are not worthy my taking seriously.)
Now, let's get started. This is going to take awhile, and in fact, it might take several entries. If none of my three current readers want to bother, that's okay. I am also writing for the minions who will follow. There are going to be some very advanced people incarnating, I suspect, in the next generation or two. We are going to need them. But along with saving the planet, they are going to be more interested in our work (mine and Abby's) than people are, today. I am writing for them. I may be a tottering old man by the time they take interest, or, I may be a vibrant 30-year-old (in the astral realm). We shall see about that.
I'm going to pull up the first reading, here, along side my typing field...
Got it. I wasn't able to audio-record either of these readings. I took real-time notes, instead. So where I quote them, and it sounds like Tarzan, that's why.
First of all, this is the image she had to go on, with no accompanying caption. I also sent her the image of the second page of a letter written by Abby, Mathew's first wife, but she told me she didn't receive that attachment (she wasn't very computer savvy). I had told her that I believed I had discovered an incarnation of my own in the 19th century, that my first wife from that lifeime was trying to contact me, and that I wanted her to help make that connection for me. Initially, I hadn't given her any information at all, but she refused to read me. She said that looking at me psychically was like "looking at someone in a fun-house mirror," and that I had an attached spirit. I then explained the above, and seeing that this was the cause of her perceptions, she relented and agreed to the reading.
Not in my notes is the fact that the very first thing she said, was that she almost called me for the reading an hour ahead of time, because she was being bombarded by images all that time. In other words, Abby was that eager to talk to me.
Now, we begin:
Nobility, stature, status. Wife not right religion, family against. Loved her dearly. Family or families feuded, rejected him. "You can come but she can't"--because of religion or status.
Having that image before her, and getting these messages from Abby, the medium (we will call her by her first name, Candace) reversed this message. Seeing the evident nobility in Mathew's visage, she assumed he was the one from the more aristocratic background. Actually, he was from a poor Quaker farm family (though they were educated), while her father was a French marquis, and she very likely had royal blood (which she is actually ashamed of, given the behavior of the royals, but I mention it in passing because it's relevant). Now let me see if I can find some visual evidence, that I uncovered over a nine year period of research from the deep historical record, to illustrate it. That's the game, here--I could simply tell you, but the challenge is to show you...
This selection is from "Reminiscences of a Nonagenarian" by Sarah Anna Emery (start at the bottom of the first page). It is written in the typical "best foot forward" style of the period, but note in particular the closing lines, "Though irascible and impatient, he was the soul of wit and good humor, happy in making all around him happy." This is oxymoronic. No-one who is "irascible and impatient" makes all around him happy. Nor was he happy about a country bumpkin, from the lower classes of his adopted home, courting his daughter. Actually, I suspect he didn't mind him so much courting his daughter, because it may have been a tradition for young women to be allowed to "dally" with lower class men, so long as they don't become pregnant. That way they have some experience. But marriage is out of the question. If she falls in love with such a person, there is always boarding school (of which prospect I think Abby was terrified). Abby didn't believe in dallying. She gave herself to the one she chose, for life. Mathew was her choice, and her personal project. He was a diamond in the rough, and he would "clean up very nicely."
It is difficult to put before you anything which proves that Joseph Poyen blocked the marriage of his daughter to Mathew, though it is hinted in many of Mathew's humorous sketches. Let me see which one might be suitable, here. I have one in mind...
I couldn't find the sketch I was looking for, but this one is better. I've recently alluded to it. Here is the entire sketch, about a rural town picnic, where two young people have committed the unforgiveable sin of walking off together arm-in-arm. This is symbolic for having rejected Society altogether--something which escaped me when I wrote about it in my first book. But there is also one of Mathew's veiled references:
The first time I read this sketch, I knew immediately that Mathew meant, not "Nickerdemus," but Nostradamus. Let's see what the 7th century, 42nd verse of Nostradamus says:
Clearly, this "Great Prince" would not have wanted his daughter marrying the commoner who was stealing a kiss with her in the kitchen.
As for "loved her dearly," we have a million choices, but let's go with his first love poem to her, published in the Feb. 25, 1832 edition of the New York "Constellation." Mathew was 19, and Abby was only 15. There are many clues in this poem, which I've explained recently (unless that was the entry I accidentally erased), but we will go into them only as they are relevant to the readings. Here, I think the statement in the reading is confirmed. I recall that she also said something to the effect that "you can't understand how much she loves you," but as that didn't make it into my notes, we will pass by it for now.
Abby was probably Catholic, as she was being raised in a French household. How do we know that, given that her mother was Scottish? Because her first cousin, Mesmerist Charles Poyen, tells us that he stayed for five months with Abby's family, and left so that he could improve his French. That means French was spoken in the home, which means that all the other accoutrements of French culture were probably there, as well. Let me find that passage in Charles Poyen's book, "The Progress of Mesmerism in New England"--here's the relevant page. Remember how Joseph Poyen was "irrascible"? This is probably a polite Victorian excuse for leaving; but it gives us a nice clue that Joseph insisted the family be run as a French household, and that they spoke French. Recall I have said that Abby taught Mathew French, by having him translate La Fontaine's Fables into English. But, I digress. The Poyens were almost certainly Catholic.
Do I need to prove that Mathew Franklin Whittier was a poor Quaker farm boy? Why not? I am tired of skeptics finding loopholes. Let's close all those loopholes, today. Maybe the fact that I can show the skeptics "8x10 glossies" (as the one I interviewed for "In Another Life" put it), for everything, may shut some of them up, finally.
It seems to me that the Whittier family's poverty (except for food, of course, on the farm) was mentioned by official biographer, Mathew's son-in-law (and personal nemesis) Samuel Pickard, in his book, "Whittier-Land." It's going to take me a minute to find it, however...
This will do, page 21 of "The Life and Letters of John Greenleaf Whittier" (the first book I ever read about Mathew, in my research). Pickard white-washed everything in the Whittier legacy which he, himself, fashioned, but this is sufficient to demonstrate that in the eyes of Joseph Poyen, the marquis, Mathew was a poor farm boy. This page seems to suggest that their Quaker faith was respected by those of other faiths in the town. That might have extended to the Congregationalists (Mathew and Abby were married by their local Congregational pastor), but I don't know about the Catholics. They, and the French, were not so popular with everybody in New England at that time. This is from a speech by Rev. J.F. Dolphin, chaplain, given in 1890 at an anniversary commemoration for the town of Haverhill, Mass. (Mathew and Abby's hometown). The book is "The Story of a New England Town: A Record of Commemoration, July Second and Third, 1890 of the Two Hundred and Fiftieth Annivesary of the Settlement of Haverhill, Massachusetts," and the quote is found on page 217. (I see that the footnote is wrong in my book, and this will have to be fixed.)
If some in the audience, as of 1890, are old enough to remember those days, we are not talking too much before the days that Mathew and Abby were courting, in the very early 1830's. We are talking violent persecution in the Haverhill area, what, perhaps 20 or 30 years earlier? Enough to make Candace's statement quite plausible.
Now what about Quaker attitudes, specifically? Well, Mathew was "disowned" by the Quakers after he eloped with Abby, and I happen to have a copy of the original manuscript:
In case you can't read the handwriting, it says:
A complaint presented to this meeting against Mathew F. Whittier as follows (to wit) To Seabrook meeting of Friends:
This may inform that Mathew Franklin Whittier has for some time neglected the attendance of our meetings and has married a Woman not of our society, and in other respects has not walked agreeable to our discipline.
Tired, yet? But skeptics want to see hard evidence. You can't have it both ways. You can't challenge me to show you hard evidence--which I have--and then get bored before we've barely begun. Besides, you're not bored or tired--you're scared. There's a difference.
Keep in mind that Candace had no normal way of knowing these things. What is the skeptical mind grasping at, by way of explanation? I have one of these too, you know, so I can check in with mine. "Chance" is still possible--it could simply be a generic, romantic theme, taken out of any number of romance novels. So far. But we aren't done, yet, by a long shot. "Cold reading," as a normal explanation, doesn't work. And chance is getting "chancy," itself, because she has hit on two variables, together--both social status, and religion. The more you combine variables, the slimmer the chances get. And in a way, her getting it reversed is even stronger evidence; because if she had obtained this information normally, she would have had that part of it right.
This early in the reading--before I asked any questions, or gave her any additional information (I just kept quiet and let her talk, for the most part, for the first half hour), Candace suddenly volunteers:
I could be Matthew--confirmed, she's certain.
At this early period I was spelling Mathew's name with two "t's," as one sees it in the Whittier legacy. Later, I learned his given name only had one "t," as you see it above, in the Quaker rejection notice. If you want proof that she was right about my being the reincarnation of Mathew Franklin Whittier, you have to read both of my e-books cover-to-cover.
Now she reiterates what she had written me when I first contacted her (before she knew why I wanted the reading!):
"Candace's perception--like a fun-house mirror, distorted, because of both lives running parallel. More like a parallel universe, overlaid. Warped in time?
In my sequel, I describe actually putting myself into these locations which were significant in Mathew's life, as I moved to Portland, Maine where he lived for 21 years. If I looked "overlapped," then, I probably look a lot more so, now. I experience it emotionally, intuitively, and subconsciously. On those levels, I am literally merging the two personalities, and the two lifetimes. If you want any evidence of this, you can note that I have uncovered roughly 1,500 of Mathew's published works; and you can see that I have been writing not just the usual blog, but real essays on a daily or semi-weekly basis for years. Pick any one of them, and it is a quality essay. I can do this because I am half Mathew. I used to have writer's block, before I discovered that past life.
Returning to the reading, I now indulge in some limited questions, as regards whether Abby seemed to have stopped contacting me, and as to who my volunteer researcher at that time had been in my past life. The answer to the first was that it was just a temporary result of "earth conditions." She said the "veil is getting thinner, but still some times are better than others." I continue to experience that waxing and waning of perceived contact with Abby. Candace continues:
The books we were studying were based on reincarnation. Black market books. Had to hide them. Abby putting book under her dress if someone approached. Like-mindedness between us, in complete agreement. Abby talks poetically. Her education came after her schooling, largely from Matthew, reading books together. We were ahead of our time.
Both were working on it, but it went wrong, and we were shunned. A court scene, like a witch trial--not physical punishment, but severe verbal. Lawyers.
Oh, boy, what have I gotten myself into? Let me see what I have, to illustrate this part of the reading. Abby was a poetic prodigy. The poems I'm showing you here, were written by her at age 14, and some of them I'm not showing you are truly stunning. There is a passage in a story which I think was co-written by Mathew and Abby, which sounds similar to this description of hiding the book under her dress, but that could be coincidence, so we will pass by it, here. That, too, is in my book. Abby's education did not come after her schooling. This, again, was reversed. Mathew's education came after his schooling, which was minimal. The boys attended school for a few weeks during the winter; and, very likely, they were home-schooled. But he worked very hard to give himself a higher education; and then, when he was 15, and Abby 11, it was arranged for her to begin formally tutoring him. Much of this was done by correspondence, as he was living in Boston, and then New York City, but she would also tutor him when he came home to visit. Or so I have surmised, based on a great number of clues. Because the evidence for the above is scattered in a dozen sources, I can't provide one or two that will clinch it, but I can pull out some examples. Here is a poem Mathew wrote to Abby after she had knitted him a cap for his birthday. This was published in the New York "Constellation" on July 16, 1831 (his birthday is July 18). Note the signature, "P.P.," which I have talked about many times, before. Probably, it stood for a nick-name, "Peter Pumpkin."
What else have I got...I need something that shows Abby teaching Mathew...well, that's not so easy. The inference is in a hundred places, including Mathew's early parodies on some of the esoteric subjects (like astrology) that Abby must have been exposing him to. But I can show you that Abby was deeply conversant with high metaphysics. First of all there are her poems, but I don't need to "go there." I only need to bring your attention back to the first story that Mathew published of hers, posthumously, signed with her maiden initials (as was her poetry), "A.P." Here, we don't have to deal with the bugaboo of Albert Pike having stolen them and published them, claiming them as his own. Pike, a man's man and future Civil War general for the South, didn't write this. I will have to give you page one and page two. This is Abby's attempt to reform Society one issue at a time. I think they were originally intended to be plays--and "A Christmas Carol" was to have been the most ambitious project of the series. Here, she is trying to raise consciousness about Irish imigrants; but she put a great deal of herself into her character. Note in particular this passage:
For evidence that Abby taught Mathew, we have to compare his early writings on these subjects to his later ones; those written when they were first courting, with those written after her passing; and then compare these with her own poetry and short stories. Once again, the picture that emerges is that Mathew was skeptical, and even lampooned some of the subjects she introduced him to, during the early years. Others, he simply borrowed elements from in a light-hearted way, as when he early-on adopted the pseudonym, "Trismegistus" (i.e., Hermes Trismegistus). He took it up again in 1851, writing for the "Carpet-Bag," although all of this work was wrongly attributed by the editor (and hence historians) to one Benjamin Drew. But after Abby's death, Mathew embraced the teachings of Emanuel Swedenborg, and in the 1850's, he became an advocate for Spiritualism. This booklet, officially attributed to Jabez Woodman, president of the Portland Spiritualist Society, was--as I believe--actually ghost-written by Mathew, in 1857. I think it may have gained some notoriety in Spiritualist circles, but none suspect its real author.
As for evidence of Mathew tutoring Abby, that I can just "put in your face," here, I can't think of any. So we will let that pass, except to say if you read my books, it gradually becomes clear that she did so.
Next, in the reading, we come to:
Died of tuberculosis? Was swift. Like a plague. I was with her and held her hand. She was the comforting one. She stayed in spirit, visited. Matthew believed it while it was happening, but sobbed afterwards and perhaps questioned whether he was going mad.
This should be easy enough, I just have to find her obit, from the April 2, 1841 Newburyport "Herald":
"Consumption" is generally understood to have been tuberculosis, but it isn't "swift"--though the end might have been. She went downhill fast, I gather, after her second child died, that winter of 1840/41. Mathew was not with her when she passed; a few days before, she was taken by her sisters back to her father's house in East Haverhill. They had been living in the American House Hotel in Portland. I think she had given up, and he sent her home hoping her mother, and being among her beloved sisters, might bring her around. No doubt he was holding her hand up until then. (There is evidence backing up this interpretation, as Mathew reports on a very similar case.) There is no record of him seeing her spirit, visually, in the days after her passing. There are, however, numerous references in his poetry, in later years, of spiritual vistations, especially in dreams. I'll just pull one out, here...
I think I gave this in the entry I accidentally erased, recently. There's a long back-story to this one, but suffice it to say that while viewing a panorama of the London World's Fair, in Boston, he suddenly was confronted with the image of a statue which reminded him vividly of Abby, at that point where they had lost their 8-month old daughter, Sarah. This was just two weeks before her own death. I did find the historical statue, of the "Nymph of Lurleighberg," seated with a lyre (Mathew, using poetic license, calls it a "lute"). But she is not playing it, and she is down-cast. Mathew called Abby a "water sprite," and the Nymph of Lurleighberg is, in fact, a water sprite. There is no serious question whether it was Mathew writing for the "Carpet-Bag," reporting in verse as "A. Trunk." So here we have a documented instance of Mathew experiencing a spirit visitation from Abby, as Candace indicated, although in this case it occurs some nine years after her death. I think his ambivalence is shown clearly enough in the closing of this poem.
Candace next explains that Abby couldn't contact me until I was past age 46. (Read, "wasn't permitted to.") In fact, at this time, in 2010, I was 57--but I had been in an unfortunate relationship since about year 2000, which had ended in 2006, and I had just really gotten fully over it by this time. So she had to wait for me to get completely through that, presumably. Candace goes on to predict that I may pass at age 60, or perhaps 61. At 60, in (what was it?) 2014, I was acting as full-time caretaker for my Mom. By that time, or very soon afterwards, she was requiring full-time nursing care, and I was "it," 24/7. Plus I was getting up in the early hours to work on my first book, and the stress level was through the roof. Even now I am recovering from it, trying to get my health back fully. Presumably, Candace (or Abby, communicating it to Candace) could see this storm brewing. But as of the reading, in 2010, there was no indication that my Mom would come to live with me in Nov. of the following year.
Candace said that Abby would be the one meeting me on the other side, and she added, "Important to get the work done before then. This is the time when we can get the information out." I really hadn't discussed my research with her. I had just seriously gotten into it as of the previous year. I can't even remember if I'd started writing the book yet, at that point.
Now my notes indicate, "at first thought 36 years old, but then, maybe 1836 as death time." But 1836 was the year of Mathew and Abby's marriage.
Then she says:
As a result of Abby's death, his heart wasn't in it after that. He didn't show his emotion, depression. Abby was his soul mate. They had overcome great obstacles to be together, her death was unexpected. He never thought he'd live so long without her. Became withdrawn, eccentric.
So here again (I think I shared it recently), is Mathew's poem, published in the April 15, 1843 edition of the Portland "Transcript." This is (I just now realize) roughly the date of Abby's funeral service, the two-year annivesary, and it's no accident. I think this speaks for itself, as proof of what Candace says, but I have yet another piece of evidence to share.
The following shows that this condition persisted for Mathew. In 1854, Mathew met privately with famous psychic Andrew Jackson Davis. The meeting is recorded in Davis' book, "Events in the Life of a Seer," published in 1868 (after Mathew's authorship of "Ethan Spike" had already been made public, in 1857).
In 1857, Mathew, signing as "Old Casual," made fun of this characterization of himself--so there's a question as to whether it might have come out sooner. I don't know for sure who intentionally or inadvertently "outed" him as "Ethan Spike," but I have a few suspicions, one being a girl he seems to have dated at the time. But that's in my first book.
What else do we have, here...are you satisfied that I can provide tangible evidence confirming most of what Candace said in this reading, in 2010? This is just scratching the surface of my accumulated evidence. I'm just providing examples. So don't give me "I need more." I have more. The problem is, you won't take the time to read them.
Next Candace says:
Something about Matthew estranged from his own lineage, not spoken about. Candace felt it was on the East Coast--NY, Washington, Virginia. Abby wanted Candace to address her as Abigail--formal. Showed wearing pearls.
I have already shown you that Mathew was "disowned" by the Quakers. There is subtle evidence that his own family began shunning him at that point, despite the fact that people insist Quakers didn't shun, and if this was happening, Mathew was the last to know it (although he kept protesting to his brother, and wondering what was going on). Of course, Haverhill is on the East Coast of Massachusetts. I was going to provide a screen-capture of the map, but give me a break. You can look that up, yourself. As for Abby's formality, the second psychic seemed to portray this, as well; but at some point, either today, or on another occasion, I'll get into that. I don't know about pearls. The only historical portrait I have of Abby shows her with a black dress, a lace color, and a broach with a large pearl, or similar material, in the center of it. I think the second psychic also mentioned pearls, let me see...no, just the lace. These things are generic, anyway. Unless, as occurs to me on re-read, she was trying to give me a heads-up about the huge pearl in the center of the broach, which portrait she knew I would be finding soon. That's another story. If she gave the medium "pearl," the medium could automatically assume it meant "pearls." Just a thought. (I have seen this sort of mis-fire in any number of readings, is why I mention it.)
Abby asked about the five children. I corrected Candace, were only two, then remembered that Matthew had five total. Abby had found me, but can't locate them, wanted very much to know what became of them.
This is strange. Wouldn't Abby, from her perspective in the astral realm, already know what became of them? And wouldn't a psychic assume she did, and not say such a thing? Candace kept talking about the five children--two or three times, as I recall--and I kept saying, "No, there were two." Kind of like the way you see John Edward insisting. Finally, I remembered that Mathew had three more by his second marriage, and apparently that was what she was driving at. I don't know--perhaps people in the astral realm have a sort of "internet on steroids," but even so, it doesn't always come up with search results. I never have gotten much of a sense of what became of any of those children. I've asked Abby, but I never get a reply that is definite enough that I feel I can confidently take it as being real.
Now comes something that really puzzled me for a long time:
Abby cries. Remembers sitting on a swing for two, under a tree by a river, romantic. Matthew reading black market book to her. Black market books hard to get. Metaphysical. Drew them together. Both knew they would come together again. Both understood reincarnation.
She is wrong about both of them "understanding" reincarnation during their courtship. Abby evidentally did, or at least knew of it, from her study of Hermeticism. But Mathew was skeptical of most mystical things she was trying to teach him, at this stage. He came to take it more seriously by 1850, and to secretly accept it by 1857, as I read the clues. It wasn't talked about openly. But that Mathew and Abby studied metaphysical texts together, is almost a certainty, given what I shared with you, earlier, and the fact that they did read literature, together. Now, I can give you some evidence of two different pieces of the above statement. First, Mathew and Abby "sitting up" under a tree, by a river. This--if we take it as Abby's poem about sitting with Mathew, and not plagiarist Albert Pike sitting with the female student he was interested in, in Newburyport--would have occurred on a hill behind her family home, overlooking the nearby Merrimack River, when she was around 14 and he, 18. (I describe standing on that same spot, in my sequel.) This would have been on a visit home, when Mathew was writing for the New York "Constellation," but before they began courting. She is deeply in love with him, and he feels attracted to her, as well, but he doesn't dare express such things with her being under-age. So he continues as her friend and her student. She writes:
But what's this business about Abby crying? In the astral world? I couldn't figure this out--was she missing me so much, she was crying even though she's in heaven? But when I studied these poems, which were claimed by and historically attributed to Albert Pike, I began to understand. Abby was desperately in love with Mathew, a handsome, bright, funny and caring older boy--her student--but she couldn't tell him. She was small even for her age, undeveloped, and there he was living in New York City--which she viewed as Sodom and Gomorrah--and she knew he was naive. If they had not even pledged to each other, how could she hope he would stay out of their clutches, these girls who were both sophisticated and physically "ample"? Not only that, he was mocking her most cherished beliefs, when she would share them with him, including (as we will see, below), reincarnation. No wonder she cried! Candace means, she cried at the time. Mathew was 18, and a very sharp debater. Abby, at only 14, couldn't hold her own with him, at that age, and she began questioning her own beliefs. It must have been an awful time for her, until Mathew began to be more considerate (as we see in the poem about the birthday present).
FYI the poem above this one is signed "A.P." Apparently, it was a printing convention that when you gang two of an author's poems together on the page, you only need to sign one of them--the second signature is implied.
What's our score, here? How many "hits" do we have for Candace, vs. "misses"? I haven't tallied them.
Now I start communicating with Candace openly. I told her his identity, and that he had lived in New England. I then asked about my impression, under hypnosis, that I had met once, as Mathew, with Edgar Allan Poe. Understand I knew nothing about Poe at this time--only what one might pick up by the time one reaches one's 50's, from high school English class and the popular culture:
My ideas about Edgar Allan Poe are correct (exactly correct or something to that extent, about my thinking he wanted to be friends, and him recruiting me as a political ghost writer). It would take a *lot* of research to uncover (repeated). May find in Edgar Cayce readings.
I never proved the meeting directly, nor anything about recruiting. (I did find that he was political, and that he recruited others.) I did prove that Mathew accused Poe, several times--with his usual hidden modus operandi--of having stolen "The Raven" from him. And there were a couple of other works, as well--"Some Words with a Mummy," and "Annabel Lee." Although "Annabel Lee" was published for Poe posthumously. Mathew must have shared these poems in a private meeting which took place during a very tight window, from late 1842 to early 1843. The logic for this is in my sequel. So what she said was correct. But what about the Edgar Cayce readings?
I have searched the Readings, and can find nothing relevant about Poe, even using all the relevant keywords I have, now. But early-on, I did find something in them which confirms my view of John Greenleaf Whittier. Want to see it in black-and-white? Let me look it up, again. If you have access to the searchable Readings online, you can find this, yourself, by using keyword "Whitter."
Well, heck, I received an ID number as charity awhile back, but now it doesn't seem to be working. So I will have to quote it:
3. In giving the interpretations of the records here of this entity, it would be very easy to interpret same either in a very optimistic or a very pessimistic vein. For there are great possibilities and great obstacles. But know, in either case, the real lesson is within self. For here is the opportunity for an entity (while comparisons are odious, these would be good comparisons) to be either a Beethoven or a Whittier or a Jesse James or some such entity! For the entity is inclined to think more highly of himself than he ought to think, as would be indicated. That's what these three individuals did, in themselves. As to the application made of it, depends upon the individual self.
4. Here is an entity who has abilities and faculties latent within self which may be turned into music or poetry, or writing in prose, which few would ever excel. Or there may be the desire to have its own way to such an extent that the entity will be in the position to disregard others altogether in every form, just so self has its own way.
Self-explanatory, I think. It means his real personality, underneath his show of Quaker piety, was a puffed-up literary rock star. Too good for his little brother. So maybe Abby was just taking the opportunity to send me some data. That would have been the first instance of many. Because that thing is really obscure. I never would have thought to look for it in Cayce's readings.
There's more. Candace continues--now in the context of Q&A:
Plague did come from ship, hence Matthew's guilt. Women shunned Abby as well. Many of them gossiped behind her back. "Got the devil".
I have concluded that one should never ask a medium questions, because unless that medium has trained him- or herself to avoid this pitfall, they have a tendency to answer out of their own mind, instead of strictly relaying conveyed messages. So obviously I shared my speculation that Mathew felt guilty because they lived near the water, and a plague had come from one of the ships. This could be true--perhaps as regards their infant daughter Sarah. But Abby died of consumption, which presumably she had contracted some years before, perhaps while caring for one of Mathew's in-laws. But now we come to this reference to women gossiping behind Abby's back, that she has "Got the devil." And this we can prove.
The following is a response to a brief protest Mathew had written, in 1838, for his own short-lived paper, the Salisbury "Monitor." Young women in Salisbury, Mass., or Salisbury Mills, apparently were throwing rocks at their windows. There's a back-story for this, but likely one cause was a charge of witchcraft, which Abby had dealt with when she was younger, as well. There is more evidence, but this will suffice, I think. This comes from the June 20, 1838 "Daily Picayune." Note that the Picayune editor knew that the "Monitor" was an abolitionist paper, and has no sympathy for them:
The only volume in existence, of the "Monitor," has been squirreled away by a private collector who paid $7,000 for it, and who I have been unable to contact or locate. But I was able to get into it by the "back door," where a few of its articles were reprinted in other papers.
Candace then answers a question about a figurine I remembered seeing at Abby's memorial service (held, as I gather, a month or two later); but I suspect Candace's reply was just off the top of her head. It was a bronze figurine of a young ballet dancer, under a bell jar. This was not in Abby's family home, as I have determined, but probably in the Peaslee Garrison House near Greenwood Cemetery, where Abby was buried. Candace said it was "brought back to her mother, cherished by her mother. And by Abby. Gave to her mother. Looking at it, I remembered how much Abby loved it. Rare treasure." I think that's all wrong. Conceivably be could have brought it with him to the reception, but what I remember was it happened to be sitting there on the table in front of him, and he concentrated on it with all his willpower just to control his feelings, and to prevent himself from bolting out the door. Much later, I learned that Abby actually had been a dancer, and that she danced privately, for Mathew, on their nature walks together. That I can back up with evidence, but it's not directly relevant, here. I think that when Mathew saw this figurine, it reminded him of her dancing.
Now Candace says (and we are almost done):
Abby and Matthew would go in nature to talk (safely), where we could be ourselves. Matthew would put blossoms in her hair. Also earlier lifetimes together--in the 1400's. Abby flipping pages (of lifetimes we had been together).
This is generic--every couple would take walks in naure, where they could safely be themselves and talk. Flowers come up in both readings, especially the second one, but this is also generic. As for the earlier lifetimes, if we are indeed soul-mates, this is a given. But in the spirit of this exercise, I can show you some stanzas from "Lady Geraldine's Courtship," published as part of a compilation of poems, by the future Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in 1844. This was one of Mathew's tribute poems to Abby, describing, with some poetic license, their young courtship. Instead of a 15-year-old American girl whose father was a French marquis, being courted by a poor poet, we now have a somewhat older English lady of British nobility, being courted by a poor poet. Otherwise, it's basically as it really happened. Note the reference to a "naiad." The definitions of "naiad" include:
A female swimmer, especially an expert one.
Mythology Any class of nymphs presiding over rivers and springs.
Now look at the poem that Mathew chooses to place atop one of Abby's short stories, entitled "Wilderness Refuge":
If you can't read it (sorry, I don't have a better copy), the poem--which undoubtedly was added by Mathew, when he submitted these some years after Abby's death--reads:
"Our father says that what before
We told you was not right:
For God has grace enough in store
To save a Water Sprite."
This is Mathew's answer to all those girls who said she "Got the devil."
I'm not done with this--look at the signature, above, from the Oct. 31, 1837 Dover "Enquirer"--"Kappa, Lambda & Mu." This was a series of pro-Abolition letters co-authored by Mathew and Abby, in response to a series written by advocates of sending slaves back to Africa, i.e., "Colonization." Mathew had been in favor of that solution when they first started courting, but she had apparently convinced him so strongly of the Abolitionist position, that here they were arging quite forcibly and effectively for that position. They made a very good team, because they were both extremely bright. But the conciliatory tone you see, here, is Abby. This, by the way, is evidence that they did collaborate, at times--as I believe they did on "A Christmas Carol." Their pseudonym, though clever, was too easily identified in a small town--and this was a small town that depended on its cotton mill. I think they were run out of Dover by the end of this year (they had eloped there in August of 1836). This was not long after the time that Abolitionist Rev. P. Lovejoy was murdered by a mob in Illinois.
But now look at the definitions for "Kappa," and for "Lambda," keeping in mind that Mathew held his emotions very close to his chest, and really only ever revealed his deeper self to Abby.
A kappa is said to be roughly humanoid and about the size of a child, inhabiting the ponds and rivers of Japan. ... Kappa are usually seen as mischievous or trickster figures. ... Though sometimes menacing, it may also behave amicably towards humans.
Lambda was used as a shield pattern by the Spartan army.
"Mu" was their first son, Joseph, unborn at the time they began the letter series.
So we have at least three references to Abby as a "river sprite," which suggests that she was an excellent swimmer, and often swam in the Merrimack River near her home, perhaps gaining a reputation as being eccentric thereby. Where others saw her as strange, however, Mathew saw her as a wondrous, magical being, as indicated in his poem to "Molly Blueberry," and his thank-you poem for the cap. This, obviously, endeared him to her, as he was the one person who understood and appreciated her--his early skepticism notwithstanding. (If you read "Lady Geraldine's Courtship," you will see some indication of her response to him, as well, despite the fact that they came from different social strata.)
Finally, my notes conclude:
Matthew did influence the writing of "A Christmas Carol" (Candace didn't know what it was until I told her, the story of "Scrooge"). Dickens read between the lines, didn't have it complete. Abby corrected her that it was signed by Matthew. But the proof was burned in a fire.
At this time, I didn't know that Mathew had ever experienced a fire at one of his dwellings. However, I subsequently found this newspaper clipping, from the April 5, 1852 "Daily Atlas":
I have since determined that they co-authored the original of that work, together--at the very least, Abby wrote the various ghosts' speeches. But here, there is no hint of her authorship, nor did I suspect it at that time. Again, this is during the Q&A, which I consider somewhat less reliable.
And there you have it. Obviously, the second psychic's reading will have to wait for another day. As it is, this is probably the longest entry I've ever written, but given the amount of evidence I have, and what I needed to cover in order to be thorough, this was the shortest I could make it. You can see why my books are so long. Is it interesting? I think it is intrinsically fascinating, the second that anyone takes it seriously. The only reason I can see why anyone could be bored by this, is if their unspoken, a priori assumption--on which they base all further thoughts on the matter--is that it can't possibly be real. So every thought afterwards, goes through that filter. And why would one bother wading through so much nonsense, written in supposed support of something you already know isn't real? Hence, boring.
The instant one wakes up to the realization that this is all quite genuine, and rigorously researched, then it becomes fascinating.
I'm just waiting...
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page, "My Heart Will Go On," theme from "Titanic,"
performed by Celine Dion