"Ay," said Hubert, breaking the silence after a time, "it's very true, I
suppose. But this world--oh, it's worth living for. Will anything in the
next, Grame, be more beautiful than _that_?"

He was pointing to the sunset. It was marvellously and unusually
beautiful. Lovely pink and crimson clouds flecked the west; in their
midst shone a golden light of dazzling refulgence, too glorious to look
upon.

"One might fancy it the portals of heaven," said the clergyman; "the
golden gate of entrance, leading to the pearly gates within, and to the
glittering walls of precious stones."

"And--why! it seems to take the form of an entrance-gate!" exclaimed
Hubert in excitement. For it really did. "Look at it! Oh, Grame, surely,
surely the very gate of Heaven cannot be more dazzlingly beautiful than
that!"

"And if the gate of entrance is so unspeakably beautiful, what will the
City itself be?" murmured Mr. Grame. "The Heavenly City! the New
Jerusalem!"

"It is beginning to fade," said Hubert presently, as they sat watching;
"the brightness is going. What a pity!"

"All that's bright must fade in this world, you know; and fade very
quickly. Hubert! it will not in the next."

* * * * *