"My dear fellow, I can't talk to any of these people. I don't know
them."

Ferris laughed at this, and replied--

"I don't think you will shock them very much; just try it."

"Ah, here's a friend of mine. You wait a moment, and I will accost him."
Approaching him, Brenton held out his hand and spoke, but the traveller
paid no attention. He passed by as one who had seen or heard nothing.

"I assure you," said Ferris, as he noticed the look of disappointment on
the other's face, "you will meet with a similar experience, however much
you try. You know the old saying about one not being able to have his
cake and eat it too. You can't have the privileges of this world and
those of the world you left as well. I think, taking it all in all, you
should rest content, although it always hurts those who have left the
other world not to be able to communicate with their friends, and at
least assure them of their present welfare."

"It does seem to me," replied Brenton, "that would be a great
consolation, both for those who are here and those who are left."

"Well, I don't know about that," answered the other. "After all, what
does life in the other world amount to? It is merely a preparation for
this. It is of so short a space, as compared with the life we live here,
that it is hardly worth while to interfere with it one way or another.
By the time you are as long here as I have been, you will realize the
truth of this."