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that he made the sign of the cross in the air and stood aside.
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The old woman was speechless with terror.
Four men grabbed her by her arms and legs, and swung her
high into the air. Up she went, and turned a somersault in the
air before falling head first into the scummy, stagnant pond.
For moments there were just ripples on the surface, and then
her streaming hair and head appeared. She threshed wildly at
the water and seemed to make some headway at swimming.
Then some spectator threw a heavy rock which caught her on
the side of the head. Other rocks followed. The poor old
woman gave a horrid, soul-wrenching scream, and an eyeball
was seen dangling down her cheek. Further rocks dislodged it
and the body sank beneath the water which was stained red.
For a minute, perhaps more, there seemed to be turmoil be-
neath the water and a whole fountain of red, blood-stained
water spurted up in a little mound.
One of the Investigators turned to another and said, So!
Satan did not save her; perhaps, as she claimed, she was inno-
cent after all.
The man to whom he spoke shrugged and turned aside as he
said, Oh well, what's it matter? We've all got to die some-
time, we put her out of her misery!
Unnoticed, isolated, and alone, an aged hunchback lurked in
the shade of a little clump of trees. From his eyes tears slowly
oozed and coursed down his seamed and wizened cheeks. From
time to time he attempted to wipe them away with the back of
a gnarled hand. Intently he peered forth from beneath white,
shaggy eyebrows. Spasmodically his left hand gripped and re-
gripped the twisted old stick which he used to assist him in his
painful movements of walking.
As the poor old woman sank beneath the water surface for
the last time, to become in her death agony entangled in the
clinging weeds below, he muttered, Sad, sad.
A woman hurrying along the path to try to see something
before it was all over, spied the twisted old man and stopped
beside him. What 'appened to her, grandfer? she asked in a
shrill voice.
Murdered! replied the hunchback in surly tones. Mur-
dered on the altar of ignorance and superstition. She was no
witch, I went to school with her. She was a pure soul who had
no evil in her.
The young woman glowered and said menacingly, You'd
better be careful what you're saying, grandfer, or you'll find
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yourself in that pond with her, there's been some ugly rumors
about you, you know if I wasn't a good granddaughter I'd
tell on you myself. So saying she hurried off to peer with avid
fascination at the surface of the now still pond, a surface
ruffled only occasionally by a bursting bubble plopping to the
surface.
The hunchback stared towards her with brooding eyes, and
then muttered to himself, Superstition, superstition, always
the enemy of progress. We who do astral travel are the prey of
the wicked, the ignorant, and the jealous, those who cannot do
it themselves and who give the wrong thoughts to we who can.
I must be careful, I must be careful! Sadly he looked again
towards the pond, for now Investigators had brought the old
woman's clothing, which they dumped upon the stone where
she had stood. Solemnly, with many a religious incantation,
they applied flint and tinder to the torn old wrecks. Fanning
the first sparks into flame they had the clothing blazing, and
small particles of blackened burnt material swept upwards on
vagrant wind.
The old hunchback turned away sadly, shrugged his shoul-
ders, and stumbled blindly into the sheltering woods.
Yes, throughout the centuries those who could do astral
travel have been persecuted and penalized by the jealous ones
who cannot do astral travel, and who resent the thought that
others can do what they cannot. Yet almost anyone can astral
travel if their motives are right, if their thoughts are pure, and
if they practice. Let us see what it takes to do astral travel.
In the first place, one must have absolutely pure thoughts
because when one can travel in the astral it is a simple matter
indeed to go to a person's house and see them, no matter where
they are in that house, no matter what they are doing. It is
possible to look over the shoulder of a person who is writing a
letter, and read the letter; it is possible but wrong, crimin-
ally wrong. The genuine person doing astral travel would
never think of so intruding upon the privacy of another, and if
one did intrude by accident, then one would never, never talk
of what one had seen. So, unless you are sure, completely sure
beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt that you do not want to
intrude upon the privacy of another, then you will find that it
is very difficult indeed to get into the astral consciously.
Almost everyone gets into the astral subconsciously, that is,
when one is asleep, but consciously that is a different matter.
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I get a vast number of letters asking me to visit such-and-
such a person by astral travel to say what is wrong with him or
her, but even if I was prepared to do this there are still only
twenty-four hours in the day and it would be an utter impossi-
bility to go to all the places because of the time consumed. In
any case, it is morally wrong to rush along to someone's house
and peer at them in the bedroom or elsewhere. Too often
people want an astral visit because they are too lazy to take the
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