--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 32 number: 8 published: 1929-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "*Improvement Era* 32, no. 8 (June 1929). Salt Lake City: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations, June 1929." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3208unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera3208unse curator_note: Internet Archive issue scan; advertising and unpaginated plates omitted. rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1929-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3208unse publication_year: 1929 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1929, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Improvement Era, June 1929 Improvement Era Vol. XXXII JUNE, 1929 No. 8 Seven Minutes in Eternity The Amazing Experience that Made Me Over By William Dudley Pelley [ This startling story by William Dudley Pelley should be read by every- one. The edition of the "American Magazine" for March, in which it origin- ally appeared, is exhausted, and we therefore asked and received permission to re-print it in the "Era." Our readers are indebted to the editors of the "American" for this courtesy. The final installment of the story will appear in the July number. The sub-headings in the article are our own. — EDITORS. 1 IN THE Sierra Madre Mountains, near Pasadena. California. I own a bungalow. When I want seclusion in order to complete a knotty job of writing, I lay in a stock of provisions, bid adieu to acquaintances, motor up to this hide-away, and work there un- disturbed. My only companion is Laska, a tawny police dog. In the month of April, 1928, I was living in this bungalow while writing a novel. The work had gone well and was nearing completion. I was untroubled mentally, feeling physically fit, writ- ing six to eight hours a day, with plenty of evening recreation. One night toward the last of the month I returned around ten o'clock and lay reading in bed till midnight. The book bad nothing to do, I am convinced, with what subsequently happened. It was a ponderous volume on ethnology, a subject that is something of a hobby with me. I felt drowsy around midnight, laid the volume aside, pulled off my glasses, and extinguished the bed-lamp. I had gone through a similar routine on a hundred other evenings: the day had been no different from a hundred other writing days spent in the bungalow. My sleeping chamber was located at the back of the house and was perfectly ventilated, with two casement windows opening toward the mountains. Laska curled on the floor at the foot of my bed — her accustomed sleeping place — and that she did not externallv motivate the phenomena in any way, I am positive. When it ended, and I was back in my body. I stumbled from the bed and my voice awoke her, bringing her over beside me. where she thumped her tail on the rug and sought to lick my wrist. * * *