January 1st, 1915.

Received by:James Padgett.

Washington D.C.

I am here, Mother:

I am the mother of your friend, and want to tell him how glad I am that I can be with him and make known to him my presence and the fact that though his mother is a spirit, yet she can be with him and feel for him all the love which she had for her boy while on earth. He must not doubt that his mother is here, for she is, and has been with him many times when you were writing and has sent him some tokens of her love through his soulmate, Mary.

Why, Leslie, she, I mean your Mary, was a little English girl, and when on earth did not live many miles from your home, and if it had been intended you two could easily have met when you were very young. But of course you might not have known of the fact that you were soulmates.

I want to tell you now, that Mary is a real, existing spirit who was once a little English girl, and is all beauty and goodness, and is waiting here for you to come to her and when you do you will not find some shadowy unsubstantial thing of air, but a real live, beautiful spirit, with form and features perfect and well defined, and full of animation and pink roses on her cheeks, and hair all dark and glossy, and blue eyes, and mouth like cupids, and teeth as you would say like ivory. She is not a very demure little girl either, but is full of life and love and happiness. I tell you all this that you may form some idea of her, and be able to see her, to some extent, in your mind's eyes as you mortals say. And more than all, she is so pure and good, and is loved by every spirit with whom she comes in contact.

I will not write much more tonight, but merely add that my prayers for you go out to the Father, and my faith that he will look after and preserve you for the better things not only of the spirit life, but of the earth life, is without a bit of doubting.

I must not write more tonight.

But in concluding, I must say that you have with you all the love and blessings of a mother who loved you so much on earth. So think of me sometimes.

Your own dear and loving mother,

Priscilla Stone