Esther Dimond

California, February, 1858

Estimable Fair Damsel,

As onward we journey how pleasant,

To pause and inhabit awhile,

Those few sunny spots like the present,

That ‘mid the dull wilderness smile.

But Time like a pitiless master,

Cries onward, and spurs the gay hours

And never doth Time travel faster

Than when his way lies among Flowers.

It is said that a child if taken away from home very young, and kept away till arrived at the age of maturity, will when returned again to the place of birth after so great a lapse of time, have a sensation come over the mind impossible to account for.  While gazing around a dim, indistinct vision of scenes familiar oppresses the mind while yet it is unable to give shape or form to the vision.  The only tangible explanation sought to be given is – that the scenes of our childhood make an impression upon the mind somewhat akin to that made upon the memory.  You have probably, fair Lady, had experience of something of the kind of at some period of your life.  Something that transpired years gone by and which you had never in the meantime thought of, will in the twinkling of an eye, leap, as it were, into the mind as fresh as at the moment when it occurred.  Where had this been stored during the lapse of time between when it occurred and when it recurred again to the mind?  There must be a mental warehouse where, stored away are all the impressions of memory, which, by some involuntary operation of the mind, unlocking, as it were, the doors, come forth, exhibit themselves for a moment and are then returned again to remain unthought of till that mysterious operation, resulting from the sympathy association or influence of mind with or over matter, shall again unlock the mental warehouse door.  A dim, indescribable sensation somewhat similar to what I have been writing of came over my mind when first I saw the initials ——–“E. F. D.”——-.  All my efforts to give shape and form to it have been unavailing and to me it is yet one of those mysterious operations of the mind or memory which would be attended with pleasure could I so give it form as to enable me to make time and place tangible.  But this I have been, after the most intense struggle, unable to accomplish.  My fancy then took it up and at one time converted these initials into words and made them represent

E ternal F reiendship D esired.

But this did not seem to be the solution, as it satisfied not, but still left a void that at length forced me to abandon all hopes of filling, and, I therefore leave it with you.  It may be that something in your experience may make it clearer to your mind, and enable you to give it a body as a name.

But call it by some better name

For Friendship sounds too cold,

While Love is now a worldly flame

Whose shrine is made of Gold!

And Passion, like the sun at noon

That burns in all he sees

Awhile as warm, will set as soon,

Then call it none of these.

Imagine something purer far

Move free from stain of clay,

Than Friendship, Love or Passion are

Yes – human still as they.

And if thy lip for like this

No mortal word can frame

Go, ask of Angels what it is

And call it by that Name!

Thus far Had I written before I retired to rest but while upon my bed the vision still haunted one, and led my imagination endeavor to solve the mystery in this wise.

Years ago, there a clerk in my Father’s store, I retired to bed on night, and after falling asleep dreamed I saw in the lot on which the store was erected, an old man, peculiarly dressed – in a fashion I had never before seen, heard or read of.  This man had a pick and shovel with him and commenced digging in the ground and so continued until he reached a large flat stone, which accomplished, I saw him ease the stone and take out a number of articles of silver ware and a quantity of gold coin, carefully examine every article and as carefully put them back again and replace the stone, filling the hole over with the dirt he had taken out.  Thus far I dreamed.  One among the many articles of silver I saw him examine, was a pair of sugar tongs very massive, and made in the form of a pair of scissors – thus   Accompanying the Sugar Tongs was a silver salver and sugar bowl, and I saw the old man place them together as they were want to be used.  Sugar Tongs I had seen before, but never anything like them neither in shape or solidity and I never would have imagined so quaint an article.  However time passed on but that dream would often recur to my mind.  About two months after this dream had occurred, I was invited one Sabbath evening to take tea with a wealthy old German family in the neighborhood, and on taking my seat at the table, judge my when I saw on a silver salver, a silver sugar bowl and lying beside the bowl a pair of silver sugar tongs all precisely of the pattern I saw in my dream.  The appearance of these articles completely astounded me, and so much as that my looks attracted the attention of the good old lady and gentleman who inquired what it was that seemed to attract so intensely my attention.  In answer I could only relate the particulars of my dream.  In describing the features and dress of the old man in my dream, I perceived the old lady and gentleman exchanging glances of surprise, and at length the old gentleman exclaimed “Why that is Sammy Moser, and the very dress he wore the day he died.  Sammy he continued, was worth a good deal of money and had a quantity of family plate, but died without making known where he had placed it.  His children had the house stripped, the plastering taken down, floors taken up and chimney pulled to pieces, but without success and where he concealed it remains unknown to this day – but you have described him exactly and we know that among his plate were articles similar to these (pointing to the salver, sugar bowl and tongs) and pointing out of the window, he added that “old house yonder is the one he lived and died in.”  Now, this old house was on one street, and the store in which I slept was directly in the rear of it on another street, a railing fence separating both lots, and the old dreamed of, I ascertained afterwards, had owned through from street to street, his children after his death having sold the rear lot to my father for the purpose of erecting the store.  Now all the circumstances I have detailed both of the dream itself and the coincidences attending it, are to say the least, curious, but there is yet another incidental circumstance connected with it, more curious still.  A short time after these things happened  my father wished to have the cellar of the store dug two feet deeper and to do this I employed two men and set them digging.  On uncovering the wall in one corner to the depth indicated to my surprise they came to a large flat stone, the very stone in size and shape and under the very spot on which the old man stood when he commenced digging.  So certain was I of this that I could have made affidavit under oath to that effect, and that stone remains there till this day, I never having revealed this circumstance to any but you.

Now, fair lady, if I am not very much mistaken in my fancy, you have an enquiring mind, and what think you of all this?  Could so much exact truth get into a dream by chance – could an antique dress of a fashion brought from Germany 75 years previous to the time I wrote and which I had never seen or heard, as well as so quaint an article of silver ware, appear so plain to my sleeping vision, as to enable me to describe the dress from cap to boots, and both these peculiar in shape and appearance?

It is but a very slight variation in circumstances that would make the dream I have written of, perhaps furnish a clue to the sensation I experienced and as I stated in the opening of this letter, for if the mind can be acted upon while in a somnambulic (a person in the state of sleep performs as awake) state, why not, under some peculiar state of the body, the mind be similarly acted upon while in full vigor, and imagination transport it to Fisherville, place it in the presence of an individual there, and enable it to describe dress and features as exactly as in a dream.  A lady (the story is familiar, you may in your reading perhaps have seen it) sitting one fair summer day sewing, was observed to utter the mouth piercing screams, and finally fall from her seat in a fit.  Returning to consciousness, she stated the cause.  Her husband at the time many hundred of miles distant, she solemnly affirmed was drowned.  She had seen him endeavoring to cross a boisterous stream in a small boat, had seen the waves dash the boat upside down, and leave her husband struggling with his fate, till at length he sunk to rise no more, at which moment she had fallen senseless.  A record of the exact time was kept and at precisely the moment the wife was so strangely affected, the scene transpires as she described it, and she was a widow.

Fair Lady, I am no sceptic, no believer in improbabilities, no Spiritual Rapping believer.  The spirits of the Just, I believe are sent out as Ministering Angels, but only to those who may become (if they will) heirs of Salvation.  It is true the General Laws regulating this world and the Spirit land, have been set aside, by the Great Lawgiver for a time under some peculiar circumstance and with some particular object.  The translation of Enoch, without being dead and buried, of Elijah likewise; the removing of the scales from the eyes of the young prophet – allowing his vision to penetrate into the upper air – and see what he tells of; the raising of Lazarus after three days lying in the grave, the death and resurrection of Christ and the coming forth of many of the Saints, together with the second appearing on the mount of Transfiguration of Moses and Elias, as well as the parting of the waters of the Red Sea, the standing still of the Sun over Gideon, etc. etc. are relaxation of General Laws but I never can believe that in our day so general a relaxation has been allowed as to bring to light what we hear and see respecting Spiritualism and its effects.  But I may, perhaps if agreeable to you say something more on these topics at another time, suffice it now to say, that I do believe in an influence existing on earth that under a particular state of mind can bring live objects though far apart, in communication, though total, as in the case of the lady above, noticed, unconscious of the mode of accomplishment.  It would not, therefore, surprise me should I ever visit Fisherville and meet you in the street, that without any guide, save what fancy had daguerreotyped on my mind instantly to recognize you though surrounded by many a fair maid of the place at the time.  That daguerreotype is not perfected, but I feel it in process of accomplishment.  But what of all this:  is this all I have been so agitated about.  No this will not furnish the solution.  “Tis mystery still.”

And now fair Lady, excuse the writer of this for thus trespassing upon your patience.  All the return he can make is the heartfelt wish that in every position you  may be placed, you may Ever Fair Delicate – Ever Feel Delicious = and should you not be willing always in a state of single blessedness to remain that in the change from an

Exquisite Fisherville Diamond.

You may be

Ever Fortunately Domesticated,

Have, as your crown of rejoicing, a host of

Ever Fair Daughters,

with among all other graces,

Excellent Faithful Dispositions,

And as time passes on may you be more

Exempt From Decay

That usually falls to the lot of mortality, and that instead of

Enduring Friendship Desired,

You may realise in California particularly in the mining districts a man leaving all the comforts of home – friends – relatives and associations, and more especially here in the absence of that “polar star”, which by its gentle influence over his rugged nature so greatly tends to nerve him to exertion as well as soothe him in misfortune for

Disguise the bondage as we will

Tis Woman, Woman rules us still!

I repeat, a man leaving all these behind him is more susceptible of impressions here than elsewhere, perhaps, even at home.

The fact is well authenticated that in 1850 in one of our mining districts, in which a woman had never been seen, a party of miners travelling on a prospecting tour, came upon a Woman’s Bonnet, and as if the same sensation arose on the instant in every breast, they disencumbered themselves of their back loads, formed into a ring and danced joyfully around the dilapidated, though to them sacred emblem, of home and its guardian Angels, whether in the form of mother, sister, and last, though not least, the partners or intended partners of joys in anticipation.

Again in a large mining district in which a woman had not been seen, a district large enough to erect a rude meeting house for the occasional visit of a minister one Sabbath morning when the house was pretty well filled, a woman who had that morning arrived on her way to another mining district entered the meeting house with an infant in her arms.  This unexpected appearance excited the most intense interest.  After sermon had commenced the child began crying, and, unable to soothe it, the mother arose to take it out, but was stopped by the minister, who forgetting his sermon, referred to the association the crying of that child brought to mind – association of home and all its domestic felicities – and while he yet spake the tears began to flow fast from every eye and strong emotion pervade the entire assembly till minister and audience mingling together in feeling gave audible event to the intensity of their emotions and more solid impressions resulted from the crying of that solitary infant in an unwomaned portion of California that from any sermon the speaker could possibly have preached.

And now, fair lady, you may, perhaps from what I have said, be induced to put faith in the assertion that our minds are more susceptible of impression here that elsewhere, and that ever the initials of a name, knowing them to be those of one of the gentle “the last, best gift to man” can awaken emotions and sensations that have lain dormant for years.  I have tried to reconcile this view of the case to my present state of my mind, while being exercised as I have written; but it seemed to me the void, – though not exactly an aching void, – was left – a void that Eternal Friendship Desired was not capable of filling.  No, for however strong the Desire – the void existed to be filled with something sweeter still.

But I am, or rather feel myself transcending the bounds of delicacy to one, who though never known, has been unaccountably interwoven with some mystery of my being which I cannot fathom some sympathetic chord which having been touched has vibrated in a direction indicating either the existence of a magnet, or some remote association of ideas suddenly sprung into vigor through an unknown, though surly felt influence – an influence so strong that in imagination it has carried to Fisherville my sleeping and waking thoughts – placed me where I could see the writer signing herself “E.F.D”. – could recognize an attractive mind and a congenial spirit – could hold converse sweet, associations refreshing and part with regrets and all this arising from the simple incident of being asked by a friend what were the three letters placed at the bottom of a note which not ever I had not the pleasure to peruse.  To me tis all a mystery!

Eternal Felicity Developed

And in taking leave, believe the writer, when he says:  that though –

His griefs may return – not a hope may remain,

Of the few that have brightened his pathway of pain,

He ne’er can forget the short vision that threw

Its enchantment around him while thinking of you.

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,

Bright dreams of the past which she cannot destroy,

Which come in the night time of sorrow and pain,

And bring the bright features of joy back again.

Long, long be thy heart with such mem’ries filled,

Like the Vase in which Roses have once been distill’d

You may break, you may shatter, the vase if you will,

But the scent of the Roses will hang round it still.

Farwell fair Lady, believe me anything – Except Foul Deceiving while I take the liberty of subscribing myself, —

Respectfully,

Yours,

                          Etc., Etc., Etc.

                                    E.  .   .

To-

    Miss E. F. Dimond,

        Fisherville,

                     New Hampshire