lived in state and splendor, and he had thought that some
ceremony would attend his departure, but there was nothing of the sort.
The only change was, that as he went along the Angel seemed to be
growing very tall, and he very little, so that he had to reach up to
hold the strong white hand, and his feet were well-nigh taken from under
him by the sweep of the great white robes; also he felt afraid and
foolish, he knew not why.

So they came at last to a gate, through which many children were passing
with glad faces, carrying tablets of amber and pearl; and beside the
gate sat another Angel, writing in a book; and when a child passed in,
this Angel nodded and smiled to him, and wrote a word in his book.

Now the Angel of the Gate looked up, and saw the
Angel-who-attends-to-things, and beside him the man, holding fast to his
hand, and feeling afraid and foolish.

"From the Primary Department?" asked the Angel of the Gate.

"Yes!" said the other, who never wasted words.

The Angel of the Gate looked the man over carefully. "His hands are
dirty!" he said at length.

"Yes!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things; "he has not learned to keep
them clean."

"And there is mud on his feet!"

"Yes, he will walk in the mire."

"And his clothes are torn, and stained with blood."

"Yes, he has been quarrelling with his brother and beating him."

At this the man found his voice and cried out, though he felt more
afraid and foolish than ever, and his voice sounded high and thin, like
that of a tiny child.

"I have no brother!" said the man.

The two Angels looked at each other.

"You see!" said the Angel-who-attends-to-things. "I knew how it would
be."

Then he turned to the man. "Run along back," he said, "and try to do
better next time. I left the door open for you."

And in the shaded room, while the firelight whispered to the shadows in
the corners, the doctor rose from the bedside, and spoke softly to the
nurse.

"The crisis is past," he said, "he will live."

HELL GATE

Hell Gate clanged behind the youth, and those without stood and looked
one upon another.

First came his friend, and said to the keeper of the gate:

"Let him out! he is young, and his work still to do. Who knows but he
may amend, and do it yet?"

Next came his Love, and clasped the bars, and wept upon them.

"Let him out!" she cried. "We are too young to die, and without him I
cannot live."

Last came his mother, for she had