d through it, and many silver threads of water were woven
across the green; and there were borders of tall trees on the banks of
the river, and orchards full of roses abloom along the little streams,
and in the midst of all stood the city, white and wonderful and radiant.

When the travelers saw it they were filled with awe and joy. They
passed over the little streams and among the orchards quickly and
silently, as if they feared to speak lest the city should vanish.

The wall of the city was very low, a child could see over it, for it
was made only of precious stones, which are never large. The gate of
the city was not like a gate a all, for it was not barred with iron or
wood, but only a single pearl, softly gleaming, marked the place where
the wall ended and the entrance lay open.

A person stood there whose face was bright and grave, and whose robe
was like the flower of the lily, not a woven fabric, but a living
texture. "Come in," he said to the company of travelers; "you are at
your journey's end, and your mansions are ready for you."

John Weightman hesitated, for he was troubled by a doubt. Suppose that
he was not really, like his companions, at his journey's end, but only
transported for a little while out of the regular course of his life
into this mysterious experience? Suppose that, after all, he had not
really passed through the door of death, like these others, but only
through the door of dreams, and was walking in a vision, a living man
among the blessed dead. Would it be right for him to go with them into
the heavenly city? Would it not be a deception, a desecration, a deep
and unforgivable offense? The strange, confusing question had no
reason in it, as he very well knew; for if he was dreaming, then it was
all a dream; but if his companions were real, then he also was with
them in reality, and if they had died then he must have died too. Yet
he could not rid his mind of the sense that there was a difference
between them and him, and it made him afraid to go on. But, as he
paused and turned, the Keeper of the Gate looked straight and deep into
his eyes, and beckoned to him. Then he knew that it was not only right
but necessary that he should enter.

They passed from street to street among fair and spacious dwellings,
set in amaranthine gardens, and adorned with an infinitely varied
beauty of divine simplicity. The mansions differed in size, in shape,
in charm: each one seemed to have i