me say that their life was very
beautiful, filled with graciousness and nobility.

I do not say that such a story could ever be common, but it is more
probable than the world might credit. Sometimes the man is better
without the woman, the woman without the man.

ON THE NOBILITY OF OURSELVES

AN old Anglicized Frenchman, I used to meet often in my earlier
journalistic days, held a theory, concerning man's future state, that
has since come to afford me more food for reflection than, at the time,
I should have deemed possible. He was a bright-eyed, eager little man.
One felt no Lotus land could be Paradise to him. We build our heaven of
the stones of our desires: to the old, red-bearded Norseman, a foe to
fight and a cup to drain; to the artistic Greek, a grove of animated
statuary; to the Red Indian, his happy hunting ground; to the Turk,
his harem; to the Jew, his New Jerusalem, paved with gold; to others,
according to their taste, limited by the range of their imagination.

Few things had more terrors for me, when a child, than Heaven--as
pictured for me by certain of the good folks round about me. I was told
that if I were a good lad, kept my hair tidy, and did not tease the cat,
I would probably, when I died, go to a place where all day long I would
sit still and sing hymns. (Think of it! as reward to a healthy boy for
being good.) There would be no breakfast and no dinner, no tea and no
supper. One old lady cheered me a little with a hint that the monotony
might be broken by a little manna; but the idea of everlasting manna
palled upon me, and my suggestions, concerning the possibilities of
sherbet or jumbles, were scouted as irreverent. There would be no
school, but also there would be no cricket and no rounders. I should
feel no desire, so I was assured, to do another angel's "dags" by
sliding down the heavenly banisters. My only joy would be to sing.

"Shall we start singing the moment we get up in the morning?" I asked.

"There won't be any morning," was the answer. "There will be no day and
no night. It will all be one long day without end."

"And shall we always be singing?" I persisted.

"Yes, you will be so happy, you will always want to sing."

"Shan't I ever get tired?"

"No, you will never get tired, and you will never get sleepy or hungry
or thirsty."

"And does it go on like that for ever?"

"Yes, for ever and ever."

"Will it go on for a million years?"

"Yes, a million years, an