aching
tower above tower and height above height into the blazing blue, the
awful serenity of a heavenly sky. One can know that toward that town the
poor man who had sinned and repented would in the evenings gaze and
wonder until his soul, now ploughed clean for new seed, might learn the
laws that would make it indeed an inhabitant of that place. It is a
serene and beautiful vision, but not different from that which all may
see, and enjoy even, in part, in this world.

But how was it with that other man--with that good man who had never
sinned until his earthly body was stripped away that he might sin and
fall in the spirit--sin and fall to a depth so profound that even one
furtive look into that awful abysm makes the minds of common men to reel
and stagger? When that God-sent blast of fire should have burned out the
selfhood that clung to the very vitals of his soul, what then? Who is
there that with unwinking eyes may gaze into the effulgent brilliancy of
the perfect angelhood? He who sweats drops of salt in his life's inner
struggles shall, maybe, eat good bread in the dew of it, but he who
sweats drops of blood in agony shall, when his labor is done, sit him,
maybe, at the King's table, and feast upon the Flesh of Life and the
very Wine of Truth.

Was it so with that man who never sinned until all his hell was let
loose at once upon him?

The Little Room

BY MADELENE YALE WYNNE

"How would it do for a smoking-room?"

"Just the very place; only, you know, Roger, you must not think of
smoking in the house. I am almost afraid having just a plain common man
around, let alone a smoking-man, will upset Aunt Hannah. She is New
England--Vermont New England boiled down."

"You leave Aunt Hannah to me; I shall find her tender side. I am going
to ask her about the old sea-captain and the yellow calico."

"Not yellow calico--blue chintz."

"Well, yellow _shell_, then."

"No, no! don't mix it up so; you won't know yourself what to expect, and
that's half the fun."

"Now you tell me again exactly what to expect; to tell the truth, I
didn't half hear about it the other day; I was woolgathering. It was
something queer that happened when you were a child, wasn't it?"

"Something that began to happen long before that, and kept happening,
and may happen again; but I hope not."

"What was it?"

"I wonder if the other people in the car can hear us?"

"I fancy not; we don't hear them--not consecutively, at lea