each other silent and motionless; at last the anchorite pushed the hair
from off his brow, which was now for the first time visible. It was
well-formed, though somewhat narrow, and its clear fairness formed a
sharp contrast to his sunburnt face.

"Boy," he said with a deep breath, "you know not what joys you would
sacrifice for the sake of worthless things. Long ere the Lord, calls the
pious man to Heaven, the pious has brought Heaven down to earth in
himself."

Hermas well understood what the anchorite meant, for his father often for
hours at a time gazed up into Heaven in prayer, neither seeing nor
hearing what was going on around him, and was wont to relate to his son,
when he awoke from his ecstatic vision, that he had seen the Lord or
heard the angel-choir.

He himself had never succeeded in bringing himself into such a state,
although Stephanus had often compelled him to remain on his knees praying
with him for many interminable hours. It often happened that the old
man's feeble flame of life had threatened to become altogether extinct
after these deeply soul-stirring exercises, and Hermas would gladly have
forbidden him giving himself up to such hurtful emotions, for he loved
his father; but they were looked upon as special manifestations of grace,
and how should a son dare to express his aversion to such peculiarly
sacred acts? But to Paulus and in his present mood he found courage to
speak out.

"I have sure hope of Paradise," he said, "but it will be first opened
to us after death. The Christian should be patient; why can you not wait
for Heaven till the Saviour calls you, instead of desiring to enjoy its