thoughtful　manhooda　medical　missionary　who　had　given　up
  a　brilliant　career　in　science　to　take　the　charge　of　a　hospital　in
  darkest　Africaa　beautiful　woman　with　silver　hair　who　had
  resigned　her　dreams　of　love　and　marriage　to　care　for　an　invalid
  father；
  and　after　his　death　had　made　her　life　a　long；　steady　search　for
  ways　of
  doing　kindnesses　to　othersa　poet　who　had　walked　among　the
  crowded
  tenements　of　the　great　city；　bringing　cheer　and　comfort　not　only
  by
  his　songs；　but　by　his　wise　and　patient　works　of　practical　aida
  paralyzed
  woman　who　had　lain　for　thirty　years　upon　her　bed；　helpless　but
  not　hopeless；　succeeding　by　a　miracle　of　courage　in　her　single
  aim；
  never　to　complain；　but　always　to　impart　a　bit　of　joy　and　peace　to
  every　one　who　came　near　her。　　All　these；　and　other　persons　like
  them；
  people　of　little　consideration　in　the　world；　but　now　seemingly
  all　full　of
  great　contentment　and　an　inward　gladness　that　made　their　steps
  light；
  were　in　the　company　that　passed　along　the　road；　talking　together
  of
  things　past　and　things　to　come；　and　singing　now　and　then　with
  clear　voices　from　which　the　veil　of　age　and　sorrow　was　lifted。
  John　Weightman　joined　in　some　of　the　songswhich　were　familiar
  to　him
  from　their　use　in　the　churchat　first　with　a　touch　of
  hesitation；
  and　then　more　confidently。　　For　as　they　went　on　his　sense　of
  strangeness　and　fear　at　his　new　experience　diminished；　and　his
  thoughts
  began　to　take　on　their　habitual　assurance　and　complacency。　　Were
  not　these
  people　going　to　the　Celestial　City？　　And　was　not　he　in　his　right
  place
  among　them？　　He　had　always　looked　forward　to　this　journey。
  If　they　were　sure；　each　one；　of　finding　a　mansion　there；　could
  not　he　be
  far　more　sure？　　His　life　had　been　more　fruitful　than　theirs。
  He　had　been　a　leader；　a　founder　of　new　enterprises；　a　pillar　of
  Church　and　State；　a　prince　of　the　House　of　Israel。　　Ten　talents
  had　been
  given　him；　and　he　had　made　them　twenty。　　His　reward　would　be
  proportionate。
  He　was　glad　that　his　companions　were　going　to　find　fit　dwellings
  prepared　for　them；　but　he　thought　also　with　a　certain　pleasure　of
  the　surprise　that　some　of　them　would　feel　when　they　saw
  his　appointed　mansion。
  So　they　came　to　the　summit　of　the　moorland　and　looked　over　into
  the　world　beyond。　　It　was　a　vast；　green　plain；　softly　rounded
  like
  a　shallow　vase；　and　circled　with　hills　of　amethyst。　　A　broad；
  shining　river　flowed　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　its　own　personal　look　of　loveliness；
  yet　all　were　alike　in　fitness　to　their　place；　in　harmony　with　one
  another；
  in　the　addition　which　each　made　to　the　singular　and　tranquil
  splendor　of
  the　city。
  As　the　little　company　came；　one　by　one；　to　the　mansions　which
  were
  prepared　for　them；　and　their　Guide　beckoned　to　the　happy
  inhabitant
  to　enter　in　and　take　possession；　there　was　a　soft　murmur　of　joy；
  half　wonder　and　half　recognition；　as　if　the　new　and　immortal
  dwelling
  were　crowned　with　the　beauty　of　surprise；　lovelier　and　nobler
  than
  all　the　dreams　of　it　had　been；　and　yet　also　as　if　it　were　touched
  with
  the　beauty　of　the　familiar；　the　remembered；　the　long…loved。
  One　after　another　the　travelers　were　led　to　their　own　mansions；
  and　went　in　gladly；　and　from　within；　through　the　open　doorways
  came　sweet　voices　of　welcome；　and　low　laughter；　and　song。
  At　last　there　was　no　one　left　with　the　Guide　but　the　two　old
  friends；
  Doctor　McLean　and　John　Weightman。　　They　were　standing　in　front　of
  one　of　the　largest　and　fairest　of　the　houses；　whose　garden　glowed
  softly
  with　radiant　flowers。　　The　Guide　laid　his　hand　upon　the　doctor's
  shoulder。
  〃This　is　for　you；〃　he　said。　　〃Go　in；　there　is　no　more　pain　here；
  no　more　death；　nor　sorrow；　nor　tears；　for　your　old　enemies　are
  all　conquered。　　But　all　the　good　that　you　have　done　for　others；
  all　the　help　that　you　have　given；　all　the　comfort　that　you　have
  brought；
  all　the　strength　and　love　that　you　have　bestowed　upon　the
  suffering；
  are　here；　for　we　have　built　them　all　into　this　mansion　for　you。〃
  The　good　man's　face　was　lighted　with　a　still　joy。　　He　clasped　his
  old　friend's　hand　closely；　and　whispered：　〃How　wonderful　it　is！
  Go　on；　you　will　come　to　your　mansion　next；　it　is　not　far　away；
  and　we　shall　see　each　other　again　soon；　very　soon。〃
  So　he　went　through　the　garden；　and　into　the　music　within。
  The　Keeper　of　the　Gate　turned　to　John　Weightman　with　level；
  quiet；
  searching　eyes。　　Then　he　asked；　gravely：
  〃Where　do　you　wish　me　to　lead　you　now？〃
  〃To　see　my　own　mansion；〃　answered　the　man；　with　half…concealed
  excitement。
  〃Is　there　not　one　here　for　me？　　You　may　not　let　me　enter　it　yet；
  perhaps；
  for　I　must　confess　to　you　that　I　am　only〃
  〃I　know；〃　said　the　Keeper　of　the　Gate〃I　know　it　all。
  You　are　John　Weightman。〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　the　man；　more　firmly　than　he　had　spoken　at　first；
  for　it　gratified　him　that　his　name　was　known。　　〃Yes；　I　am　John
  Weightman；
  Senior　Warden　of　St。　Petronius'　Church。　　I　wish　very　much　to　see
  my　mansion　here；　if　only　for　a　moment。　　I　believe　that　you　have
  one　for　me。
  Will　you　take　me　to　it？〃
  The　Keeper　of　the　Gate　drew　a　little　book　from　the　breast　of　his
  robe
  and　turned　over　the　pages。
  〃Certainly；〃　he　said；　with　a　curious　look　at　the　man；　〃your　name
  is　here；
  and　you　shall　see　your　mansion　if　you　will　follow　me。〃
  It　seemed　as　if　they　must　have　walked　miles　and　miles；　through
  the
  vast　city；　passing　street　after　street　of　houses　larger　and
  smaller；
  of　gardens　richer　and　poorer；　but　all　full　of　beauty　and　delight。
  They　came　into　a　kind　of　suburb；　where　there　were　many　small
  cottages；
  with　plots　of　flowers；　very　lowly；　but　bright　and　fragrant。
  Finally　they　reached　an　open　field；　bare　and　lonely…looking。
  There　were　two　or　three　little　bushes　in　it；　without　flowers；
  and　the　grass　was　sparse　and　thin。　　In　the　center　of　the　field
  was　a　tiny　hut；　hardly　big　enough　for　a　shepherd's　shelter。
  It　looked　as　if　it　had　been　built　of　discarded　things；　scraps　and
  fragments　of　other　buildings；　put　together　with　care　and　pains；
  by　some　one　who　had　tried　to　make　the　most　of　cast…off　material。
  There　was　something　pitiful　and　shamefaced　about　the　hut。
  It　shrank　and　drooped　and　faded　in　its　barren　field；　and　seemed
  to
  cling　only　by　suffer