March 15, 1919
Received by James Padgett
Washington, D.C.
I am here, George Butler.
I would like to write a few lines tonight, if you are agreeable. A long time ago I wrote you describing my condition and that of the hells in which I was then living, and you were kind enough to help me and bring me in association with some bright spirits who were willing to show me the way out of my awful condition, and who since that time have been helping me with their love and sympathy and prayers; and now I am happy to tell you that I have gotten out of my darkness and am progressing towards the heavens, which a development and transformation of the soul by the inflowing of the Divine Love leads to.
Tonight, I desire to express to you my thankfulness and gratitude for the great service you did me and to say that in all the spirit world, there is not one who feels more conscious of the truth which your advice leads to in the salvation of his soul and the redemption from an existence of darkness and suffering, than do I.
I cannot convey to you any conception of what this redemption means to me, or of the wonderful difference of condition in a soul that has experienced the possession of this Love, and one that remains in ignorance of the blessings that it confers. What I wrote you then, I now repeat, that the hell of a soul which is all tainted and permeated with the results of an earth life of sin and error is wholly true and the contrast between souls in the two states of existence is impossible of description.
When you spoke to me of the probability of my release from the hells and told me that this Great Love would work out my deliverance, I confess that I had very little faith in what you told me, and thought that you were trying to impose on me some of the old nonsensical beliefs of your church doctrines, of which I had heard a great deal when on earth; and when the bright spirits came to me and confirmed what you had said and offered their services in accordance with what you had advised me was the certain way to my obtaining a new state of living, I thought that it was an illusion or delusion, and that no results could possibly come to me by pursuing the course that they told me would surely lead to a change of my condition. But they were so earnest and so anxious that I should listen to them and seemed to have so much love for me and my welfare, which was a new experience for me since I had been in hells that I commenced to think that such evidence of friendship and anxiety for my betterment must have some foundation of truth, and that I would not lose anything by heeding their advice and making the effort to pursue the way pointed out to me.
And so I commenced to pray for the Love, and they prayed with me, and in a little while their Father appeared to me in a new light - not just real, but as something that might have a potential existence. I continued to pray and listen to their prayers, and my emotions were aroused, and I felt a kind of happiness that I had not before felt, and a feeling of hope that there might be some efficacy in their prayers, but had not much faith in my own; and notwithstanding my incredulity, I realized that I felt better in the atmosphere of their presence and in the influence that their prayers seemed to bring around me. They were very kind and sympathetic, and so wonderfully patient, and impressed me with the feeling that my soul's salvation, as they termed it, and the deliverance of me from my unhappy and suffering condition were to them matters of personal interest and importance; and, of course, with such feelings I soon commenced to think that if these beautiful spirits could have such interest in me, I should have interest in myself sufficient to earnestly seek for the relief that I so much needed.
Well, I then put more desire and longings in my prayers and tried to look upon their Father, as possibly my Father also, and so my longings became more real and intense. I prayed and called upon the Father to give me this Love and to cause me to have faith in prayer and in the Being to whom my prayers were offered. I will not tell you how earnestly I continued to pray and how the first faint realization of the answer came to me and with it the consciousness of a hope that might be fulfilled. After a while, this Love came to me and with it a feeling of happiness that I had never conceived of, and also the conviction that these spirits were showing and helping me on the true way to a redemption of soul and body, also, for as you may know, I had then and have now a body more substantial and real than the one which I possessed when on earth.
I will not here describe my progress or the different experiences that I had, nor the faith nor doubts that came to me in succession. I persisted, with the encouragement of these spirits, and after awhile found myself out of the darkness and sufferings and the hells, real and terrible, and an inhabitant of a brighter sphere and in the association of brighter spirits, who, though not like the beautiful spirits who had so lovingly worked with me, yet, were very different from those whom I had left in the darkness and the hells.
I am now in the Third Sphere, and if I had the time, or rather if I felt justified in consuming your time, I would describe to you as best I could, what this sphere is, and the wonderful beauty and happiness that belongs to it. Sometime, I hope to have the opportunity to attempt to portray the wonders of this sphere, and more particularly of my home and surroundings.
Tonight, as I have said, I merely desire to express to you my gratitude and to assure you of the truth and the results of what you told me was the true way to light and happiness. Never through all eternity shall I forget your kindness and the great help that you gave me, nor shall I cease to remember you in my prayers to the Father, whom I now know is a true, real, existing and loving Father. Oh, the difference in the condition of the Butler in hell and the Butler who is now writing you is beyond all description, and this Love, which is the greatest thing in all the universe and the greatest gift to mortals, is the cause thereof.
I must stop writing, although I should like to write longer, for I have already intruded too long. So remember my gratitude, and also that I am now a very happy
George Butler
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George H. Butler Writes About the Horrors of Hell and Describes His Home of Ugliness and Torment
January 5, 1916
Received by James Padgett
Washington, D.C.
I am a spirit who cannot tell you of the joys of Heaven, but I can describe the horrors of Hell. For just as these other spirits described to you their homes of beauty and happiness, I can describe my home of ugliness and torment. Do you wish me to do so?
Well, know then that when I lived on earth, I was a man of very considerable intellectual powers and acquirements and, also, of an intense animal nature; so much so, that it overcame my judgment and what moral qualities I had, and I became at last a slave to my appetites which were varied, especially my appetite for drink. I had many friends of position, social and otherwise, and I was considered a brilliant newspaper writer and had access to the inner political circles that were then in control of the government.
My weakness, or rather the effect of the strength of my animal nature, was known to many of my friends and they, in many ways, tried to help me and rescue me from my evil and destructive course of living; and, at times, I would succeed in reforming my conduct; but, alas, not for any great length of time, when I would again relapse into my deplorable habits and become the controlled victim of my destroying appetites.
Of course, human friendship and sympathy had their limits and, finally, my friends gave me up as lost and past redemption, and I surely and quickly sunk lower and lower in my moral condition and, at last, died a drunkard, unwept and unsung except for the evil that I had done. It was undoubtedly a relief to my friends and acquaintances when I passed over and forever relieved them of the shadow of my presence and the ghost of what I had been.
But such was my end and when I came to the spirit world, I found that I still was deserted by friends who had become spirits before me, except some who liked the flowing bowl as I did on earth, and who were inhabitants of the unattractive place that I found myself in when my habitation became fixed. I never, when on earth, thought much of the future life, except to convince myself that there was no Hell and if there was a God, He was not bothered about me, a mere man of many millions. But oh, the fatal mistake! And the unexpected realization of the fact that there is a Hell!
Whether there is a God I don't know, for I have never seen Him or felt His influence. But since I came to you tonight and heard the messages of those two spirits who described their wonderful homes and their condition of happiness and ascribed them all to the kindness and care of God, I have commenced to think that there may be a God, and that my mistake was greater than I have heretofore realized; but this is a digression from what I started out to write.
That there is a Hell; I know to my sorrow and sufferings. For I have been the occupant of one for, oh, these many years; and it is always the same place of horrors and darkness, except sometime it is lighted by the flame of lurid light that comes from the anger and sufferings of some unfortunate like myself.
In this Hell of mine, and there are many like it, instead of beautiful homes, as the other spirits described, we have dirty, rotten hovels all crooked and decayed with all the foul smells of a charnel house ten times intensified. And instead of beautiful lawns and green meadows and leafy woods filled with musical birds making the echoes ring with their songs, we have barren wastes and holes of darkness and gloom and the cries and cursings of spirits of damnation without hope. And instead of living silvery waters, we have stagnant pools filled with all kinds of repulsive reptiles and vermin and smells of inexpressible, nauseating stinks.
I tell you that these are all real and not creatures of the imagination or the out flowing of bitter recollections. And as for love, it has never shown its humanizing face in all the years that I have been here - only cursings, and hatred, and bitter scathings, and imprecations, and grinning spirits with their witch-like cacklings. No rest, no hope, no kind words or ministering hand to wipe away the scalding tears, which so often flow in mighty volumes.
No, Hell is real and Hell is here. We do not have any fire and brimstone, or grinning devils with pitch forks and hoofs and horns as the churches teach; but what is the need or necessity for such accompaniments? They would not add to the horrors or to our torments. I tell you my friend that I have faintly described our homes in these infernal regions and I cannot picture them as they are.
But the horror and pity of it all is that hope does not come to us with one faint smile to encourage us that there may at some time be an ending to all these torments and, in our hopeless despair, we realize that our doom is fixed for all eternity. As the rich man in Hell said, if I could only send Lazarus to tell my poor, erring brothers on earth of what awaits them, how gladly I would do so and save their souls from the eternal torment.
Well, I have written you a long letter and am tired, because it is the first time that I have attempted to write for many long years, and I find some difficulty in gathering my thoughts so as to be able to write in an intelligent and collected manner. So I must stop.
Well, I will say that you are the best friend that I have had since I became an outcast while on earth, and that I will do whatever you may advise, but you must not expect me to have much hope, not doubting your desire to help me, but merely your ability.
Well, I don't understand, but I will trust you and will try to believe what you say - only don't create in me that of which I have been deprived of for so long, I mean - hope - and have me disappointed. Well, I have looked, as you advised, and see some spirits who are so beautiful and so bright that I can scarcely look at them. Never before have I seen such spirits or imagined that such could exist. They must be gods, or why all the great happiness and beauty and love which they have. Tell me, what does it all mean! Is it a star of hope that has come to me from afar and bids me trust that these Hells shall not be my home forever? Oh tell me, I pray, you are they the spirits of real mortals who lived and died as I did?
Such love I have never seen; and they look at me with such encouragement and almost human eyes of love and beckon me to come with them. I have asked if Mr. Riddle is there, and one spirit comes to me and says yes, and that he is glad to have me come with him, as he knew me on earth and is acquainted with my sad life. And now I remember him, for he was a friend who lived in the same city as I did.
He says: "Come George, and I will try to show you the way to light and relief from your sufferings." And I am going, and as I go a beautiful, glorious spirit comes to me and lays her hand on my head and says: "God bless you my brother and may His Divine mercy be yours;" and she tells me that they all love me and will help me.
Oh, tell me what does it all mean! Am I dreaming? Are you real and are they real, or am I in one of the deliriums that I used to have on earth? Oh, so beautiful and heavenly. But they say no, that they are real spirits and once lived on earth - sinful mortals like myself.
How can I ever thank you? I am overcome and cannot write more, but I will come again. So my dear friend good night, for I am going.
G.H.B.
My name is George H. Butler, and I died in 1886.
* * * * * * * * * *
Helen Writes to Confirm Mr. Butler's Message
I am here, Your own true and loving Helen.
Well my dear, you have had a variety of writings tonight, and I have been greatly impressed with the last message that you received, for the writer was a very intelligent spirit and seemed to be without hope in his soul. He was a very dark spirit and did not seem to have any love in his soul, but was the picture of despair and grief. He firmly believed that his position in Hell was fixed for all eternity and, hence, the hopeless despair in which he was.
I am so glad that he came to you and described these Hells, for he was capable; and no one can describe them as he who has lived in them for many years and suffered and experienced all their torments.
He seems to be very grateful, and I think that hope has come to him. He has gone with Mr. Riddle, who is much interested in him. We will all try to help him to progress. So you must pray for him now. We all will. It is late, and I will not write more.
Your own true and loving,
Helen
Received by James Padgett
Washington, D.C.
I am a spirit who cannot tell you of the joys of Heaven, but I can describe the horrors of Hell. For just as these other spirits described to you their homes of beauty and happiness, I can describe my home of ugliness and torment. Do you wish me to do so?
Well, know then that when I lived on earth, I was a man of very considerable intellectual powers and acquirements and, also, of an intense animal nature; so much so, that it overcame my judgment and what moral qualities I had, and I became at last a slave to my appetites which were varied, especially my appetite for drink. I had many friends of position, social and otherwise, and I was considered a brilliant newspaper writer and had access to the inner political circles that were then in control of the government.
My weakness, or rather the effect of the strength of my animal nature, was known to many of my friends and they, in many ways, tried to help me and rescue me from my evil and destructive course of living; and, at times, I would succeed in reforming my conduct; but, alas, not for any great length of time, when I would again relapse into my deplorable habits and become the controlled victim of my destroying appetites.
Of course, human friendship and sympathy had their limits and, finally, my friends gave me up as lost and past redemption, and I surely and quickly sunk lower and lower in my moral condition and, at last, died a drunkard, unwept and unsung except for the evil that I had done. It was undoubtedly a relief to my friends and acquaintances when I passed over and forever relieved them of the shadow of my presence and the ghost of what I had been.
But such was my end and when I came to the spirit world, I found that I still was deserted by friends who had become spirits before me, except some who liked the flowing bowl as I did on earth, and who were inhabitants of the unattractive place that I found myself in when my habitation became fixed. I never, when on earth, thought much of the future life, except to convince myself that there was no Hell and if there was a God, He was not bothered about me, a mere man of many millions. But oh, the fatal mistake! And the unexpected realization of the fact that there is a Hell!
Whether there is a God I don't know, for I have never seen Him or felt His influence. But since I came to you tonight and heard the messages of those two spirits who described their wonderful homes and their condition of happiness and ascribed them all to the kindness and care of God, I have commenced to think that there may be a God, and that my mistake was greater than I have heretofore realized; but this is a digression from what I started out to write.
That there is a Hell; I know to my sorrow and sufferings. For I have been the occupant of one for, oh, these many years; and it is always the same place of horrors and darkness, except sometime it is lighted by the flame of lurid light that comes from the anger and sufferings of some unfortunate like myself.
In this Hell of mine, and there are many like it, instead of beautiful homes, as the other spirits described, we have dirty, rotten hovels all crooked and decayed with all the foul smells of a charnel house ten times intensified. And instead of beautiful lawns and green meadows and leafy woods filled with musical birds making the echoes ring with their songs, we have barren wastes and holes of darkness and gloom and the cries and cursings of spirits of damnation without hope. And instead of living silvery waters, we have stagnant pools filled with all kinds of repulsive reptiles and vermin and smells of inexpressible, nauseating stinks.
I tell you that these are all real and not creatures of the imagination or the out flowing of bitter recollections. And as for love, it has never shown its humanizing face in all the years that I have been here - only cursings, and hatred, and bitter scathings, and imprecations, and grinning spirits with their witch-like cacklings. No rest, no hope, no kind words or ministering hand to wipe away the scalding tears, which so often flow in mighty volumes.
No, Hell is real and Hell is here. We do not have any fire and brimstone, or grinning devils with pitch forks and hoofs and horns as the churches teach; but what is the need or necessity for such accompaniments? They would not add to the horrors or to our torments. I tell you my friend that I have faintly described our homes in these infernal regions and I cannot picture them as they are.
But the horror and pity of it all is that hope does not come to us with one faint smile to encourage us that there may at some time be an ending to all these torments and, in our hopeless despair, we realize that our doom is fixed for all eternity. As the rich man in Hell said, if I could only send Lazarus to tell my poor, erring brothers on earth of what awaits them, how gladly I would do so and save their souls from the eternal torment.
Well, I have written you a long letter and am tired, because it is the first time that I have attempted to write for many long years, and I find some difficulty in gathering my thoughts so as to be able to write in an intelligent and collected manner. So I must stop.
Well, I will say that you are the best friend that I have had since I became an outcast while on earth, and that I will do whatever you may advise, but you must not expect me to have much hope, not doubting your desire to help me, but merely your ability.
Well, I don't understand, but I will trust you and will try to believe what you say - only don't create in me that of which I have been deprived of for so long, I mean - hope - and have me disappointed. Well, I have looked, as you advised, and see some spirits who are so beautiful and so bright that I can scarcely look at them. Never before have I seen such spirits or imagined that such could exist. They must be gods, or why all the great happiness and beauty and love which they have. Tell me, what does it all mean! Is it a star of hope that has come to me from afar and bids me trust that these Hells shall not be my home forever? Oh tell me, I pray, you are they the spirits of real mortals who lived and died as I did?
Such love I have never seen; and they look at me with such encouragement and almost human eyes of love and beckon me to come with them. I have asked if Mr. Riddle is there, and one spirit comes to me and says yes, and that he is glad to have me come with him, as he knew me on earth and is acquainted with my sad life. And now I remember him, for he was a friend who lived in the same city as I did.
He says: "Come George, and I will try to show you the way to light and relief from your sufferings." And I am going, and as I go a beautiful, glorious spirit comes to me and lays her hand on my head and says: "God bless you my brother and may His Divine mercy be yours;" and she tells me that they all love me and will help me.
Oh, tell me what does it all mean! Am I dreaming? Are you real and are they real, or am I in one of the deliriums that I used to have on earth? Oh, so beautiful and heavenly. But they say no, that they are real spirits and once lived on earth - sinful mortals like myself.
How can I ever thank you? I am overcome and cannot write more, but I will come again. So my dear friend good night, for I am going.
G.H.B.
My name is George H. Butler, and I died in 1886.
* * * * * * * * * *
Helen Writes to Confirm Mr. Butler's Message
I am here, Your own true and loving Helen.
Well my dear, you have had a variety of writings tonight, and I have been greatly impressed with the last message that you received, for the writer was a very intelligent spirit and seemed to be without hope in his soul. He was a very dark spirit and did not seem to have any love in his soul, but was the picture of despair and grief. He firmly believed that his position in Hell was fixed for all eternity and, hence, the hopeless despair in which he was.
I am so glad that he came to you and described these Hells, for he was capable; and no one can describe them as he who has lived in them for many years and suffered and experienced all their torments.
He seems to be very grateful, and I think that hope has come to him. He has gone with Mr. Riddle, who is much interested in him. We will all try to help him to progress. So you must pray for him now. We all will. It is late, and I will not write more.
Your own true and loving,
Helen
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