FULL BOOK MANUSCRIPT OF 'DAYS OF ELIJAH' by Eliza Earsman.

I refer to my posting of yesterday and as promised I now send the rest
of the book manuscript of 'Days of Elijah'.

Inexperience and impatience is slowing the website of
elizaearsman-days-of-elijah.net.  As a matter of importance please see
archived Google Group postings by typing the searchword 'rosewhitel'
or 'eliza earsman'.

With many thanks to all.

In Christ,

Eliza Earsman.








A True Story

By
 
ELIZA EARSMAN
 
 
From the cowardice that shrinks from new truth,
From the laziness that shrinks from half-truth
From the arrogance that thinks it knows all truth,
O God of Truth, deliver us.
                                                      - Anonymous.








Preface
  
Elijah
 
Elisha
 
Eliza
 
As biblically explained, Freemasonry is the corruption of the cult of
Baal worship.  Baal is the eldest son of Satan, Baalbeck in Lebanon is
the city of Baal, and as part of the Bekaa Valley it is a home to
interlinked and international terrorist groups.  This will be expanded
upon.  Freemasonry’s ultimate aim is to establish one-world
government.  There has to be raised global awareness.
 
In conjunction with the time ordained, Eliza is called to the task of
providing for the five million Masonic fraternity the indisputable
evidence and, from within her lineage, proves beyond doubt that she
has been called as trusted by God.  This trust is in the realms of
both spiritual and financial.
 
Scottish Rite Freemasonry, originating in her home area, has strong
corrupt and exploitative criminalities and international tentacles,
and it is this that provides, initially, the evidence to condemn Baal.
 
As expected, Freemasons are fractious and make a concentrated and
determined attempt to have her destroyed.  Being forcibly imprisoned
and injected with strong and anti-psychotic drug cocktails are but
some of the multifaceted details.  In opposition to having the
situation dealt with quietly and correctly, Freemasons - and church
leaders who have shown strong Masonic affiliations - have hindered
that approach and have determined to have the details published in the
global arena.
 
From a base of integrity, goodwill, publicity and good public
relations ‘Days of Elijah’ already has a fairly high worldwide
profile.  The multicultural and sensible reader wants, and requires,
easy access to understanding historical context and content.  In
easily understood format ‘Days of Elijah’ gives that opportunity and
experience.
 
The Windsor royal family is at the seat of Freemasonry’s activities in
Britain.  Their Masonic Patron was Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon the Queen
Mother and as evidence keeps proving she has been at the heart of the
British criminal fraternity’s action to a) have this person destroyed
b) to have the public unaware of her and her family’s involvements and
c) to stop or delay recognition of Freemasonry’s global agenda.  In
time lost and cost they have in part succeeded.
 
Vast is that cost.
 
The central part of Washington D.C., U.S.A., for example built on
Masonic creed and houses the ‘Mother Supreme (Masonic) Council of the
World’.  Examination of the Masonic global agenda is for the reader to
disseminate and discover.  U.S Presidents, past and present, are
closely involved with Freemasonry and Anglo-American political
involvements are known.
 
Hence the need for this work.

‘Coincidence’ in Hebrew means ‘coming from God’. Is ‘Days of Elijah’
coincidental?   Wait and see.

As Christian witness, and coupled with international film rights,
‘Days of Elijah’ is topical, educational and historical.

It leaves the reader under no illusions as to what is going on and who
is the One True God.








NOTE:

Events worldwide have overtaken us and of necessity this book has to
be in the global domain.

In no way do I consider this presentation to be the final one.  From
its British base of crime ridden Freemasonry the opposition has been
fierce and funding for professional editorial help has been and
remains at zero.

As a result the reader is allowed to acknowledge personal editorial
inadequacies.

The inadequacy does not lie in the content or the context.
 
Professional and Christian help has been asked for often and that help
has not been forthcoming.  It is not the purpose of this book to
expand upon this but details can be given to any who may require them.
As a result I have traveled to the U.S.A., Canada, Israel, Ireland,
Spain, Jordan, Central and Eastern Europe to raise awareness.
 
At the hands of the venomous few and the deliberate opposition of
their Masonic Father much delay has been caused and many lives have
been lost.

With blood on their hands, those responsible for closed doors and
mucky minds can at no time be allowed to plead ignorance or innocence.
It is fair to say that this work is not going to be a reference for
the grey British systems, or their long history of detrimental
activities the details of which have found their way into the global
domain.
 
May their need for account be known.

I am required to do whatever is legally necessary to ensure the
success of this book and eventual film content and to thereby leave
the way clear for more of the work determined by Almighty God.

It is fact that the Christian, Jewish and Muslim communities are of
necessity gaining a growing awareness of this work and have been able
to find, to date, no cause for complaint re the work of this person.

Author
2003.









Dedication

For my grandfather and those who went before him, and for justice.

James Earsman Johnston was a master mariner.  He worked in ‘Puffers’,
which is a shipping trade essential to the remote Scottish West
Highlands and to the transport of goods and passengers.  It is hard
work and often dangerous.  During World War II VIC’s  (Victualling
Inshore Craft i.e. Puffers) were commissioned by The Admiralty and
many saw service as supply vessels in Scapa Flow and in far flung
areas of the world.

His first wife, my grandmother, came from the Inner Hebridean Island
of Islay and on being widowed his second wife was the daughter of the
canal lockkeeper at Crinan.

His simplicity would be in keeping with this partial quotation by Sir
Winston L. S. Churchill:

In war: resolution.
In victory: magnanimity.
In peace: goodwill.”

There is no defeat.









Contents
 
Family Trees 
 
Dedication
 
Preface
 
Chronology
 
Maps
 
Photographs
 
Chapters:
 
1.                                             One Day at a Time
 
2.                                             1947-1987
 
3.                                             The Way of Trust
 
4.                                             We'll Do It Thy Way
 
5.                                             Fools Rush In

6.                                             1988
 
7.                                             Suicide -Theirs
 
8.                                             Playing with Fire
 
9.                                             1991-1999
 
10.                                            London 1991-1992 and on
to 1993
 
11.                                            Hell Bent
 
12.                                            Locked In
 
13                                             The Crooked Path Way
 
14.                                            Vanity versus Sanity
 
15                                             No Surrender
 
16.                                            Live Free
 
17.                                            I Need More
 
Appendix A
 
Appendix B
 
Appendix C
 
Appendix D
 
Appendix E
 
Appendix F
 
Appendix G
 
Appendix H
 
Appendix I
 
Index
 
The Lord’s Prayer
 
Scripture quotations are from the HOLY BIBLE: NEW INTERNATIONAL
VERSION.  Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. 
Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.  All rights
reserved.
 
Copyright © R. Whitelaw July 2003.  All rights reserved.
 
 






CHAPTER 1
  
One Day at a Time
 
The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds
blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall,
because it had its foundation on the rock.
 
Matthew 7:25

 
Looking, as some might say, as if I’ve just come from a turnip field,
it’s always best not to confuse decency with stupidity.
 
I used to live in a pleasant and reasonably sized sandstone Victorian
‘semi’.  Four bedrooms, lounge, dining room, fully fitted kitchen and
bathroom.  It was clean, bright, cheerful, and lived in.  There were
bunks, books, cats, plants and children.  It had a good feel.  It was
our family home and the door was seldom closed for long.  At the back
was the garden large, sixty feet by forty feet, and mature. 
Vegetables grew there and the roses bloomed.  The girls tended their
own small patch. The garden swing took up one small corner and the
rope from the tree swung low.  In earlier days the sandpit was used
often and there was always an abundance of toys.  The grass was green.
 
All in all it was a safe place for children to play.
 
The car parked at the end of the garden  next to the large shed and
near to the greenhouse.  The parking facility was good it allowed for
easy access and was in daily use.  The forests were nearby and so was
the shore.  The vehicle was used often.
 
What more can I say?
 
It was a good place and quiet.  Sheltered from the main road at the
front we spent many quiet evenings there and many a night I stood
beneath the stars as I brought in the frostbitten clothes from the
drying line.  November air is crisp!  Life was serene but not dull two
growing children made sure of that.
 
That was before. 

Now, as an older, wiser and still good looking fifty-four year old, I
live - easily I may say - in a shoddy and shabby Salvation Army hostel
for the homeless.  Food is kept in the cupboard under the sink and,
brightened by effort, the ten feet by six feet bedroom cum washroom
cum anything else room is reasonable for anyone not wanting or
requiring a home or family life.
 
I’m not one.
 
`Hope House’ as it’s known, is the busy busy annex for those in
transit from the ‘Riddrie Hilton’, the Victorian and, by all accounts,
barbaric Barlinnie Jail in Glasgow.  Decent folk live in Hope House
and so too do many others.  None of them have caused me any problems.
 
For the past sixteen years, I have followed a direct and Almightily
unavoidable calling to stand against, and expose, the delusionary and
unsustainable criminal practicings of Freemasons.  They are commonly
known as the Masonic fraternity.  I have no option.  If I don’t, we go
under.  If I do, we go on.
 
If ever anyone wants to know why the state of Britain is as it is,
look at the size of the nation on the world map, and then look at the
concentration of the malpractices within.  The church is at fault yes,
but don’t disturb them.  Oh, no, their walk is in tandem with the word
and the work of the world.
 
Swimming against the tide of deliberate Masonic maliciousness and
oppression I have been shackled and held, filled full of
anti-psychotic drug cocktails, slept in central London mucky shop
doorways, been illegally detained and imprisoned, traveled far and
wide, come up against the British Law Societies – where naivety
has had to go out the window - and continued to tell the truth.  The
cost has been great but the privilege is greater.  Life savings, home,
family life, pension rights and a number of work and educational
opportunities have all gone but, despite the warring factions, I will
keep going.  There is too much involved to stop now and Chapter 15 =
No Surrender.   Subsistence living in this situation means that God
given talents have been suppressed, but they are not extinguished.
 
The more I have had to deal with the more has been brought to light
and, in opposition to having the details dealt with quietly and
correctly, Freemasons -and church leaders who have shown strong
Masonic affiliations - have hindered that approach and have determined
to have this publication pushed into the global arena.  Freemasonry’s
ultimate aim is to establish one-world government and there has to be
an urgent and raised global awareness.  ‘Days of Elijah’ is certainly
going a long way to providing that!
 
As revered by the monotheistic faiths, the work of the Old Testament
prophet Elijah is identifiable by Christians worldwide, and also by
Jews and Muslims.  Elijah is known as Ilyas in The Koran.  In 1 Kings
18 Elijah’s tussle with the priests of Baal is on record, and it is in
context that he can easily identify, clarify and discredit man’s
polytheistic strategies.  By Christian witness, I can vouchsafe that
he is right.  Freemasonry is the loosely disguised cult of the
Canaanite god Baal and the female branch of Freemasonry is identical
to the cult of Jezebel, wife of the Old Testament King Ahab.
 
Freemasonry - as the institutions, rites and practices of Freemasons
is known - is an international fraternity of deists housed in Lodges. 
It maintains a smokescreen of misinformation, and engages in extensive
criminal and speculative interconnections.  It contains ambiguities
that feed on the need for social prestige, brotherhood and
self-importance.  Freemasonry employs occultism and symbolic forms of
idolatry, borrowed principally from the stone and cathedral masons
trade.
 
'Scottish Rite’ Freemasonry originates near my hometown of Moffat. 
The Grand Lodge of Scotland of Ancient, Free and Accepted Freemasons’
has its Headquarters at 96 George Street, Edinburgh, and it is a point
of note that this same Grand Lodge is the one at the seat of ‘Scottish
Rite’ Freemasonry which has spread its wings throughout the world.
 
For too long, the British Masonic empirical stock exchange has been
aiming to oust the good old Scots customs of honesty and integrity. My
grandfather knew that and so too did his immediate line.  So do many
others and, however dim-witted Masons may be when brain cells were
arrayed in all their glory, satiated in the jungle juice of the snake
venom which tries to give corruption a different face, the fiddlers
rally is really not adept enough to keep its ‘knocking shop’, and
slush pile to hush pile, criminalities covered.
 
It has been very active in that country town and the surrounding areas
of Dumfries and Lockerbie, in the south west of Scotland.  Hence the
reasons for this book and hence the reason my great-great-grandfather,
John Gibb Campbell left in stewardship a financial legacy and correct
teaching, to the fourth generation of his female line.  John was a
master stonemason and sculptor in Glasgow.
 
That trust was to come to fruition in the fortieth year of that
person.
 
That person is I, and this is the true story of why. 
 
Copyright © R. Whitelaw 2003.  All rights reserved.




 



CHAPTER 2


1947-1987
 
Remain in me and I will remain in you.
No branch can bear fruit by itself: it must remain in the vine.
Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.
 
John 15:4

 
I was born 10 February 1947 as the second eldest in a family of four. 
I have one older brother and two younger brothers.
 
We belonged to an honest working class family, which is no fault, and,
in a Masonic spawning ground like Moffat, Scotland, no mean feat.  We
were taught right from wrong at a very early age and I have chosen to
abide by that teaching.
 
As a child I was allowed to roam free.  Good plain simple teaching and
good clean fresh air work wonders.  Moffat is set in sheep farming
country among the hills of south Scotland and I was actively
encouraged to go out and enjoy the countryside; to swim in the burns
and talk to the trees.  Nope, not crazy. Wealthy. I was taught to
recognize God’s laws, to respect all living things, and to treat other
people with kindness.
 
A wealth of experience was stored up in those days.  I had few
restrictions, only this: be honest, decent, and harm no-one.  Don’t do
anything to anyone that you wouldn’t like them to do to you.  “And”,
said my father, “keep your conscience clear.”

My mother was clear-cut too: “Come back when you are hungry!”  she
said, for she knew a child couldn’t go too far on a stomach grumbling
for its next meal.
 
Therefore, I to the hills will lift mine eyes.
 
In the days before flowers came as waxed and wane from the
supermarket, a bunch meant freshly picked snowdrops, blue starred
periwinkles, or clutched primroses brought home from an outing ;
whatever was the reason and whatever was in season.  Oh, and bags of
fresh pinecones smell good on the home fire.  An outing meant a day to
wonder and wander … and wonder.  Good were these days and I wondered
much.  I still do.
 
As a matter of fact, a field of newly mown grass can be re-arranged to
make a house.  bedrooms too.  And it can be re-arranged to make
another.  When I say that Christmas presents were well thought out
crayons, paper and coloring books you’ll get the gist.  Money wasn’t
an object ; there just wasn’t much to spare.  And did it matter?  Not
a lot.
 
I now have a healthy aversion to walking on cement.  Memories of pine
needles and green grass hold true.  So too does walking miles to find
the source of a river.  I never did find it, but I learned much about
limitations in trying.
 
“Walk tall” my mother said “and look the world right in the eye…and
keep your feet on the ground”.  Well, I still do but at this late
stage I also do it privately and productively.
 
Sounds familiar.
 
That was before my education about the cruelty, insolence and
intolerance of human nature, which would begin later.
 
My father had recently returned from thirty years in the Royal Navy,
which he had joined at the age of fourteen years, at the outbreak of
World War One.  On demobilization and in a community racked with
problems, he was ill equipped to take on more than laboring jobs.
 
I was thirteen when my mother died.  She was fifty.  On that day my
childhood ended and I was given the responsibility of keeping house
for two brothers and my father.  From that day on we lacked any real
guidance and although for a while he tried his best, my father was
ill-equipped by lack of experience, to guide with expertize three
teenage children.  An only child of older parents who goes off to war
at the age of fourteen, as my father was, in common with many others,
does not have home life/parental guidance to relate to.
 
Life wasn’t too bad, we all had our chores and there was always food
on the table.  No more difficult than for many others and much less so
than for many, many millions.  My father was a disciplinarian -
binding for a teenager used to wandering - but, with hindsight, a
blessing from which I have learned much.
 
Often during the next few years I prayed.  I began to question the
existence of God and at one time, when clearing out and rearranging
the top shelf of my book cupboard for the local ‘Jumble Sale’, I gave
away my maternal grandmother’s Bible.  It was bound in soft black
leather and had gilt edges and her name, Mary Torrie, was written
inside. I just felt it wasn’t doing me much good.  Maybe if I had been
reading it, it would have!
 
I wish now that I had kept it.

Schoolwork began to suffer partly due, if I’m honest, to an
inclination to spend any free time in the open air usually alone or
with a friend’s dog for company.  A great appreciation of God’s
creation developed naturally.
 
When I was fifteen, through the local school I was voted the town’s
Gala Queen, and two years later the town’s Shepherd’s Lass, both
causing quite a bit of panic and requiring not a lot of honorable
mention in the local 2000 fold, strongly Masonic, arena.
 
By my own efforts, I took secretarial training and working life at the
age of seventeen provided a modicum of independence.   But working
indoors, for a couple of years and to a set routine, in a College
office, wasn’t for me and I moved on.  From the age of nineteen, four
and a half years of working as a policewoman left me with a strong
base of experience to help tackle what was going to emerge.  I’m
mighty glad I did.
 
Marriage at age 21 years was for the wrong reasons, and a strong
desire to build a happy marriage and a home was not enough to make it
a success.  However two healthy and relatively well-adjusted daughters
made it worthwhile.  Twenty years later through incompatibility - and
no third party was involved - my husband and I went our separate ways.

Life within marriage went on very quietly and uncommunicatively.  The
girls were given first priority and I began to look to a time when I
would, for the sake of all involved, have to make my own way in life
and provide for the girls a different and healthier home atmosphere.
 
At age thirty-eight and motivated by a long suppressed desire to go
back to full-time education, I took advantage of the fact that the
girls were both at secondary school and enrolled for a course of study
at Dumfries and Galloway College of Technology.  I took subjects that
would have provided the qualifications suitable for beginning nursing
training and moving on.
 
Pedagogues teach!  In other words I learned more at that college that
was outside the curriculum than I would have known about.
 
From the outset I was aware that I was the focus of much attention,
subtle yet obvious.  Why, I was yet to find out.  After good
preliminary examination marks, a series of events culminated in an
incident involving two teachers who were making it clear - within a
classroom setting - that they were carrying paperwork which was
directed at me but to which I was being denied access.  I refused to
tolerate this and I left in March 1986.
 
I now know that individuals in the Kirkton, Kirkmahoe, area of
Dumfries, who,  via MI5 and MI6, were instrumental in setting up a
counterfeit ‘kingdom’, were using this paperwork.  (God’s Kingdom in
Heaven is quite different and it takes the father of sick minds to try
to provide a counterfeit).  This had long been planned and was
designed to fool not only church (the masses!) but people in general
and, via illegal networks, gain access to Masonic funds, put on a
dramatic and public show, and reshuffle them in an effort to have them
‘prettied up’.  In other words as the evidence was to prove, to try to
give Freemasonry a different face and impress upon the masses what a
kind, caring and gentle people they are!   Hmmm.
 
At this time this cost me the opportunity to go into nursing training,
which is something I regret greatly, and I was beginning to see human
nature at its most hurtful.
 
As a poor alternative to continuing at that college I took the only
temporary work available at that time which was working with plants,
and people, in a new store.  In October 1986 I began to recognize very
definitely that something very wrong was going on around me.  It would
be stupid to dwell on all the details but some episodes come easily to
mind:

Two off-duty police officers with whom I had worked previously and who
are Freemasons came into the store, stood before me, laughed in my
face and told me quite plainly "We'll get you out wherever you go." 
They can be named - Harvey Thompson and William King.  Both were
sergeants in the criminal investigation department.  I was taken
aback.  I knew of no reason why anyone, particularly they, should be
saying anything of the sort.  As the focus of a trust fund, which was
to come to fruition when I was forty, and which had, over a long
period of time, been ‘absorbed’ by Freemasonry criminalities things
were beginning to ‘heat up’. Many other police names and addresses are
on file and are emerging daily.
 
An elderly cousin of my mother, Cathy Teadham, appeared one day in the
store asking specifically to see me.  I had not seen her since
childhood and then only seldom.  By her own admission she had been a
member in Moffat of Freemasonry and had been a ‘Most Worshipful
Matron’ of the Eastern Star, which is the female branch of the cult of
freemasonry.  Jezebel, as the wife of King Ahab referred to in 1 Kings
in the Old Testament, is the head of the cult and is the name used to
symbolize wickedness.
 
Teadham pulled me to one side and taunted me.  “She was in the area
being wined and dined at the invitation of representatives of the
region’s economy - read black market/poached eggs/fried
eggs/Freemasons, because they wanted to ‘find out how much I knew’."
 
Ah!  And I’m caught napping!
 
At that point I’m the first to admit I didn’t know an awful lot but I
dropped in unexpectedly at her home in East Kilbride, near Glasgow, a
few weeks later and was given insight into what had been going on. 
Something to do with missing lucre it seems! To the tune of several
million Pounds Sterling!
 
Teadham’s home was a small, one bedroom council bungalow.  It was not
a nice place to be.  She spoke to me in hedged tones and offered me
tea.  It was served on a mucky tea towel on the top of a bureau that
had seen better days.  She told me in no uncertain terms about her
friendships in Moffat and about money which had ‘gone with the wind’. 
She asked me if I knew the book.  “Yes,” I said (I can be a  wee bit 
‘iffy’ when I want)  “it’s a bit thick, isn’t it?”  She blushed.  She
told me about my mother’s aunt’s only son, Walter, who died early.  He
was 24 years old and a Royal Air Force Flying Officer.  Complications
arising from a hemorrhage caused his death, at the end of World War 2
in 1945, and Mrs. Teadham thought this was hilarious.  She showed me
his photograph and also one taken of my grandfather, his mother and
siblings.  Mrs. Teadham was turning out to be not quite a nice person!
 And no wonder.
 
A golden goose had been laying golden nuggets and her fraternity had
been cashing in.

Teadham was leaving her home the next day to visit her niece in
Oxford.  Phyllis Churchill nee Mogerley is from the U.S.A. and her
mother is the sister of Teadham nee Cavers from Moffat.  Phyllis
Churchill’s aunt - Teadham - told me in no uncertain terms that
Phyllis is now employed in insurance services for the U.S. military
and as such has ease of access to European military bases and varying
degrees of military personnel details!
 
Back in the store individuals I had never set eyes on previously
started turning up and were suddenly trying to engage me in long
conversations.  Several will be remembered and identified.  Like
swarming bees – and I use the word loosely - they were coming
from all directions.
 
All this was beginning to affect business in the store's plant
department.  An atmosphere was being created and sales were starting
to plummet.  It was simply a lead up to the events surrounding 10
February 1987, my fortieth year - and it was getting to the stage
where I could see it was going to be an embarrassment to the firm if
it didn’t stop.
 
I left at the end of October 1986.
 
Where for many years and, with hindsight, for most of my life I've had
the feeling of 'something in the background' and 'nothing fits' I was
soon to find out how very right I was.
 
Understanding and curare tips were on their way!
 
So far shaken not stirred.


Copyright July 2003 Rosemary E. Whitelaw.