By the Pope’s Command

Feb 27, 2013 by

popeBY THE POPE’S COMMAND by Isaac Lawrence Ware was first published in 1899. An interesting, odd channeled-type prophecy from the late 19th century when those seemed to be somewhat of the trend.

Here are a few lines from the beginning of the book to give you an idea of where’s he’s going with it…:

“By some strange fatality, I was given an awful and startling view of the future, which I am at a loss to account for, as I am not religious or superstitious and am an unbeliever in fortune-telling or forecasts of any kind, which makes it all the stranger; however, I will now proceed to give an account of my strange experience, as far as I can remember. Just after eating a hearty meal on the afternoon of Sunday, December 3, 1899, I stretched myself out on the lounge at my home and began to read the different Sunday newspapers, which I had bought that morning. Soon I began to feel drowsy. A strange Maltese cat came in at the door, and sat down and looked at me fixedly for a few moments, and then he got up and walked slowly out.

Now, if there is anything that is got up on crooked legs which I hate, it is a cat. Thought I, “Here is where I rid the world of a fine-looking cat,” but I suddenly realized that I was utterly unable to move any part of my body. I wondered what on earth could be the matter with me. I tried to roll off the lounge, but it was no use. Then I began to think that I was dying, and the thought came to me that I was in a trance. What if my wife would suppose that I was dead, and have me buried? Then I renewed my efforts in trying to get up from there. “If I am really in a trance, what caused it?” I thought of that confounded cat — how he kept looking back at me as he went out. “Did he have anything to do with my present predicament?” I asked myself. No; it must have been something I had eaten for dinner that didn’t agree with me. Then I began to think over the different things that I had eaten for dinner, when I suddenly realized that I was not alone, for I could hear someone moving about the room. Thought I, “It is the undertaker that has come to measure me for my coffin!”

Then I strained every muscle in my body trying to get up, or, at least, trying to move one finger or toe, but my whole body seemed to be held in a vise. I could still hear heavy footsteps, but could not see anyone. 1 could hear the children playing and romping just outside of the window. I discovered that I could move my eyes about, but not my head, so I began to look about to discover who my visitor was, and at the very first glance around I discovered him. He was a tall, dark-complexioned man of about forty-five or fifty years of age, with straight black hair, with a red fez cap on his head, and dressed like a Turk; he seemed to be busy arranging something in a large trunk-like box. I lay there watching him, unable to move a finger; I tried to move my head, then my feet, then my fingers and toes — all in vain. I felt that if I could just move one finger, I could then soon be able to get up. I tried again to roll off the lounge — all in vain. Then I resolved to remain calm and see what he was going to do. He fumbled around in the box awhile, and then he turned around and walked straight up to me, dragging a short, funny-looking, little red stool, the legs of which seemed to be set with diamonds and other precious stones that glittered and sparkled in a thousand different colors. He sat down on the stool and looked at me with his curious-looking eyes, that seemed to be coals of fire, and set deep in his head. He had a long, hook-like nose and high cheek-bones; the lower part of his face was covered with a heavy mustache and a long, thick, black beard. I lay there wondering if my disbelief in the existence of the devil was about to be exploded, and just then he spoke for the first time. Said he:….”

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