When the full import of the command first registered I stood aghast. He wanted me to write a book, Dumb Bunny Barton? But it was obvious from the steady solemn beat of the impulses that Lee was not jesting for our communication system had long since been perfected.

The fingers of my right hand had the familiar pins and needles sensation as I watched them reach out for a pen, while waves of soothing pressure gently washed away the panic .... "They'll never believe me, Lee." The faintest sensation of a shrug moved my left shoulder, in time they will understand and time is on our side: Remember the circus?

The east end of London is at its worst in the fog. On this particular evening it was a pleasant surprise then, for the child to suddenly emerge into the bright lights of a huge arena. Clad only in pyjamas she slid cautiously into the back row and watched the proceedings with wondering eyes; it appeared that some sort of a race was about to start.

The horses lined up at the gate were magnificent thorough-breds, their riders distinctively clad in garments representing the arts and sciences. The Ringmaster gave the signal and the race was on. It then became apparent that there was another horse at the gate, a dark unkempt-looking animal. The Ringmaster looked around. "Who will ride the dark horse?" he cried. There was silence as his glance roamed over the assembled company, 'till finally it fell upon the child. She shrank back, shaking her head. The horse seemed so large and she had never ridden before. Surely all these people would laugh at her ragged appearance, at length, realizing there would be no other volunteer, she stood up; "I will try."

The Ringmaster helped her onto the mount and off they went after the others. At first the horse, unaccustomed to control, reared and tried to throw its rider; then, sensing the child's tenacity, it quickened its stride, gained on the other contestants, and finally raced to victory.

All traces of unruliness left the dark horse as it gently nuzzled the child towards the centre of the ring, where the Ringmaster, aware of the cool eyebrows being raised on all sides, was waiting to present the victor's prize.

The little girl was momentarily perplexed. The prize offered was a necklet, and heavy around her neck hung the crucifix of her faith. Entering a nearby Chapel, she gently removed the cross and placed it on the foot of the altar, then returned to receive the victor's necklet. It was similar to the crucifix except that the top was missing, so that it formed a capital T.

The company assembled at the arena turned inquiringly towards the Ringmaster. "How could this happen?" they asked. "Our champions have tried hard, practised diligently, and their mounts were kept in perfect condition. Yet this child who knows nothing of riding, who had no training, stole the race. How can so unfair a situation befall us, who are more deserving of success?

"The Inner Power" is intended to supply the answer. A somewhat terse initial explanation, perhaps; to many, perception will be faint at first. The very young will have the least problems. Those with highly trained intellectual strength must surmount almost insurmountable difficulties to conquer the sense world.

Lee showed me this way: We were discussing the damage done by Mars when it passed dangerously close to Earth some seven or eight thousand years ago, precipitating the fall of Atlantis, and the various evolutionary developments on other planets, and I was having great difficulty in receiving the mental pictures which were being transferred, still bound as I was by the preconceived notion that spiritual human beings must necessarily have arms and legs and vaguely resemble Earthlings. The effect was somewhat like that of a weak tube in a television set; the pictures were blurred. However, we finally managed to blank out the animal intellect sufficiently to get going and found ourselves approaching a constellation of nice small planets far out of the Earth's range of visibility. Each of these planets was smaller than Earth and our destination was the smallest one in the group.

Translated, I would think that Vringg is the nearest sound to the name of the planet, pronounced with a sort of cricket-chirp effect.

The surface of Vringg is mainly composed of rock with small pools of water formed in indentations. There are no divisions of land and water such as we understand them, and no trees. There are various clumps of vegetation, rather like tall coarse grass some-times growing in crevices in the rock around the pools. Occasionally an insect scampers by. There are similar insects in the air, but these are much larger -- dragonfly types with almost bird-like wings.

There are only four animal types on the planet, each living off the other. The most advanced of these animal species (who, being possessed of spirit were the only ones with whom we could communicate by impulse), killed only for food and self-protection.

In appearance they are shaped somewhat like ants, being about half the size of the human being on Earth. The body is divided into three sections; the heard and shoulders make up the first section, and the upper part of the second section has a swivel-like joint from which four "arms" emerge. These can be used independently or in unison. The third section also has four protuberances, two of which are similar to legs which are used to stand upright, the other two are retractable and lowered only for use in the sitting or resting position.

These people use the egg method of reproduction. However, the ratio is about five females to every twenty males hatched.

One female will live with a group of males and as she lays the eggs, each of the males takes one and holds it close to his body with two of his forearms and two of his lower limbs; then, from of the central portion of his body a tube emerges and penetrates the shell of the egg to feed the baby throughout the gestation period.

If the female lays more eggs than she has "husbands" she takes each surplus egg and carefully buries it -- but one of the other animal forms relishes this source of food for its young, so they are soon dug up and go to supply food for the other species.

The Vringg people are older than mankind, and have, in many ways, achieved greater spiritual advancement. Their lifespan is about fifty earth years, ten of which are reproductive. Their lives are spent approximately one-third in hunting, one-third in praying to God, and one-third in reproductive procedures.

Roughly speaking, the males get killed off rapidly, but can kill their enemies at about a thirty-to-one ratio. When hiding from enemies they might spend hours motionless, letting down their two spare hind legs for "sitting" even though remaining upright. Materialism or selfish motivation is unknown; each works for the benefit of all. Clothes are not worn and evolution has provided a shell-like covering.

Long after our visit to Vringg I was reading about the late Rudolf Steiner, and was very pleased to see in his paintings people resembling our friends, though it was obvious that rather than visiting them in their natural environment, Dr. Steiner had been visited, and his callers had politely assumed a human face to help him understand them more easily (a common courtesy among interplanetary travellers).

At the moment Earthlings are sadly lacking in proficiency in this respect, and it is painful to those who know the method of escape from the sense-world to return with knowledge incompre-hensible to the intellect of others, who pin their faith on such monstrosities as space ships.

The new race will accept these matters casually and without sensationalism.

In retrospect, I marvel at the wisdom and tenderness of the teacher; to the child he was introduced as the Ringmaster at the arena; in enquiring youth we roamed the Universe; only in womanhood was the purpose of it all revealed.

Were I an artist, it would be a pleasure to tell you the story in pictures as it happened; if I were a literary giant, able to manipulate words with skill, how much more effective this could be. But such is not the case. All I can offer is this small emblem, the capital T for TRUTH. Nothing is higher.

~ W.G.B.