"...On the morning of my next appointed session with Jon, he phoned and asked if I would mind helping with a problem. He wanted me to try a past-lives reading for a lady and her husband, who were having marital difficulties. "Nothing Ventu-red, nothing gained," I thought, and told him I'd give it a try.

Ventu did not appear. Jon asked if anyone else wished to speak, and was answered (through me) by a Mr. Greenwood, who offered to assist me in the reading. The name had a familiar ring--it couldn't be, but was, the same Mr. Greenwood I had rejected many years before in my first mediumship class. He apparently bore no resentment over the incident, was friendly and well-mannered, and helped me give what seemed to be a credible and useful reading for the couple. When we had finished with the reading, Mr. Greenwood said, "Doris would like to visit the house with the orange door again?''

Jon asked me, "Can you find it for yourself, or do you want me to help you?"

I replied that I had already located the path and was traveling along it. This time, however, as I approached the house I saw a well-kept lawn dotted with small fountains and lined with neatly trimmed shrubs and trees. The vines that had previously covered the door were gone, and the brass handle gleamed invitingly. With a positive attitude, I turned the handle, pushed the door inward, and found myself in a brightly lighted room. A man sat in a large, dark-wooden chair in one of its corners.

He was dark complexioned, with a short, curly, dark beard bordering his rounded chin and cheeks. He wore a pale violet turban decorated with two large jewels--an emerald and a topaz--and his ample form was clothed in a long robe made of silky material, in the same violet color as the turban. His golden-brown eyes seemed to emit sparks of light. He smiled, revealing perfectly shaped, lustrous white teeth.

Jon, upon hearing this description, said, "Asking the gentleman, are you St. Germain, and can you speak through Doris?"

Without the slightest hesitation, "we" boomed out, " I can speak through Doris, and you may refer to me as St. Germain."

Jon began to question him along lines with which I was unfamiliar--but this "being" was very much in control and got the proper answers through with little or no interference from me. As he spoke, I noticed he was wearing a number of gold rings. He mentioned these, and said there should be replicas made of them if some were not already in existence. He promised to have me draw pictures of them, which I later did. When Jon asked if he wished to become my teacher he replied, "Doris is not yet ready for my teachings--but when she is she will certainly know it."

This was by far the longest session I had been through; but the gentleman, who, Jon explained, was not a saint, but an 11th century alchemist, was so jovial, congenial and wise that I could hardly bear to part company with him. Nevertheless, it was growing late and I had planned to paint our living room next day, so the meeting was brought to a close.

Ready for his teachings or not, thoughts of the one called St. Germain remained with me throughout the evening. Unlike the vague impressions I had received during previous sessions with Jon, this had been most vivid and realistic. Looking back on the experience, I felt as though I had actually met the man. He was fascinating, entertaining; and though he spoke rather glibly, one could sense the vast intellect and power underlining each word. Although his presence was compelling and commanding, it was not in the least intimidating. I wanted to see and hear more of him.

To ask is to receive, for he began speaking to me the next morning by way of thought projection. Fritzy, the chatterbox, had nothing on St. Germain. He spoke rapidly and at great length, describing his appearance (in 18th century garb, not oriental as I had seen originally), his love of jewels--especially diamonds, and his preference for black apparel. He went from externals to expound on his philosophy of humanitarianism, and his desire for disciples who could assimilate his teachings and carry their message to those in the world who would accept and heed it.

Throughout this monologue I went through the motions of painting the living room. I wondered if I could find any information about him in my library. I had a few volumes dealing with all categories of the occult; of these, I had read only the sections pertaining to spiritualism, astral projection and reincarnation, skipping the parts on magic, alchemy and the like. Impulse grabbed me and pulled me upstairs to the small room in which most of my books were kept. The first two volumes I scanned revealed nothing in relation to my new acquaintance. The third bore fruit--listed in the index I found, "St. Germain, Count of". I hastily turned to the page indicated, and read,

"The Count was lively and smiling. He dressed simply, usually in black, but very tastefully. He covered himself with jewels..." On and on, the text threw printed words at me which I had gotten mentally in the previous hour.

With Fritz there had always been an area of doubt. I never fully accepted him as an entity separate and apart from my own self. With the Count there could be no doubt. A genuine contact had been established.

The upshot of my meeting with St. Germain was--total immersion. Apart from his domination of my sessions with Jon, which continued with increasing success, he poured his teachings into my inner ears and vision from morning to night, in the form of symbols, words and phrases in Latin and French (of which I had no previous knowledge) and general lectures delivered in 18th century style English. He did not lack a sense of humor, but displayed it in a far more sophisticated style than zany Fritz--from whom, incidentally, I hadn't heard in some time.

Later, though, I was shown a mental picture of Fritz sitting at St. Germain's feet and loving every minute of it. Apparently, he had finally found a teacher to whom he could relate; an earthy type who understood human foibles to the fullest degree, and who knew how they could be turned to good use rather than repressed or eliminated--the latter being an impossibility.

Relieved by the knowledge that Fritz was at last in good hands, I continued studies with my beloved master, who led me a merry chase, uphill, through basic training in Hermetic philosophy, alchemy, the Cabbala and ancient Masonry. He led me, unerringly, to the proper books for my education in these subjects--and provided physical demonstrations when he found it necessary to emphasize a particular point.

This crash course lasted about six months, during which period Fritz was all but forgotten. I suspended work on the book--actually abandoned it, as to continue with it seemed somehow anticlimactic in the wake of St. Germain.

Once it had been firmly established that I was on the right path the good Count loosened the reins a bit, leaving me to travel at my own pace. Naturally the resulting deceleration left me casting about for something to fill the space which had previously been occupied by my studies--but not for long. The wheels of consequence rolled relentlessly on, bringing new friends and situations into our lives."

That's how it began. From then on St.G spoke to me frequently and at length, and I began channeling him, both privately with Jon, and for groups of interested parties Jon invited to his home. I have many stories to tell about our relationship and the interesting and often hilarious adventures he sent me on, which I will try to contribute here as time allows.