Now, last Friday night a lady gave me a letter, which I read when I went home. She said, “The previous Monday on the platform—my husband and I came; our friends who usually come with us didn’t make it that night—and Neville, as I looked at you, I could only see an ancient Chinese philosopher. I have seen my friends faces change from moment to moment, but this remained changed for your entire lecture until you went into the Silence. I closed my eyes and looked at you, it was still that same ancient face. And it bothered me, because no matter how I looked, it was not Neville, it was that ancient Chinese. So on the way home I tried to recall because it disturbed me, and then it came in a flash. Seven years ago, in an experience of mine, a psychic experience, I was walking up a hill with a few who were students of a class. The teacher was there. And as we walked up, I seemed to fall back from the group, and then to my side here is this ancient Chinese in a white garment. He beckoned to me and I followed him to a cave and here was a huge granite, a huge stone of granite, and the top was peaked. Then two hands came out over the top of the stone and it had a cocoon in it, and I knew it was myself, I knew it. He took it and broke it on the top of this peak of the granite. As it broke, water mixed with colorful oil came out and then the whole atmosphere was perfumed. Then came radiant-like heat rising. Light, but the light took on the sense of heat rising. And then this ancient Chinese took my hand and led me back to the group and they had not noticed that I was gone. Then I realized that was the face that you wore last Monday night. That was the face.”710 ¶30