that had led him to his death; make him understand how in dying he had
left a path of glory behind and given life to Paul Courtland.

In the prayer that followed the minister seemed as though he were
talking with dear familiarity to One whom he knew well. The young man,
listening, marveled that any dared come so near, and found himself
longing for such assurance and comradeship.

They took the casket out to a quiet place beyond the city, where the
little body might rest until the sister wished to take it away.

As they stood upon that bleak hillside, dotted over with white
tombstones, the looming city in the distance off at the right, Courtland
recognized the group of spreading buildings that belonged to-his
university. He marveled at the closeness of life and death in this
world. Out there the busy city, everybody tired and hustling to get, to
learn, to enjoy; out here everybody lying quiet, like the corn of wheat
in the ground, waiting for the resurrection time, the call of God to
come forth in beauty! What a difference it would make in the working,
and getting, and hustling, and learning, and enjoying if everybody
remembered how near the lying-quiet time might be! How unready some
might be to lie down and feel that it was all over! How much difference
it must make what one had done with the time over there in the city,
when the stopping time came! How much better it would be if one could
live remembering the Presence, always being aware of its nearness! To
live Christ! What would that mean? Was he ready to surrender a thought
like that?

The minister, it appeared, had a very urgent call in another direction.
He must take a trolley that passed the gate of the cemetery and go off