the same place just as we did to the trees and cottage. You will surely see
with your own eyes how true the description is which I give you.'

I was very frightened, for I feared that when he had done his narrative we
were to walk on through the wood into that place of wonders and of shadows
where the dead were visible.

He leaned his elbow on his knee, and his forehead on his hand, which
shaded his downcast eyes. In that attitude he described to me a beautiful
landscape, radiant with a wondrous light, in which, rejoicing, my mother
moved along an airy path, ascending among mountains of fantastic height,
and peaks, melting in celestial colouring into the air, and peopled with
human beings translated into the same image, beauty, and splendour. And
when he had ended his relation, he rose, took my hand, and smiling gently
down on my pale, wondering face, he said the same words he had spoken
before--

'Come, dear, let us go.'

'Oh! no, no, _no_--not now,' I said, resisting, and very much frightened.

'Home, I mean, dear. We cannot walk to the place I have described. We can
only reach it through the gate of death, to which we are all tending, young
and old, with sure steps.'

'And where is the gate of death?' I asked in a sort of whisper, as we
walked together, holding his hand, and looking stealthily. He smiled sadly
and said--

'When, sooner or later, the time comes, as Hagar's eyes were opened in the