conviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where all
the refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hot
burning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they,
the wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silence
surrounded them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacher
spoke from his heart, and all the people in the church were terrified.
Meanwhile, the birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shining
so beautifully warm, it seemed as though every little flower said:
"God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits." Indeed,
outside it was not at all like the pastor's sermon.

The same evening, upon going to bed, the pastor noticed his wife
sitting there quiet and pensive.

"What is the matter with you?" he asked her.

"Well, the matter with me is," she said, "that I cannot collect my
thoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-day
in church--that there are so many wicked people, and that they
should burn eternally. Alas! eternally--how long! I am only a woman
and a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let even
the worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, who
is so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes from
without and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although you
say so."

It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest and
severe pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious,
faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor's wife.

..."If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before our
Lord you shall certainly do so," said the pastor. He folded her
hands and read a psalm over the dead woman.

She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of the
earnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for its
sun had set for ever. She had gone home.

It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor's head; he
opened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shining
into his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standing
before his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. She
fixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just as
if she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself in
bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can find
eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"

The dead woman nodded her h