upon the lawn, in the small hours of the night: and at
such time I know there came through his soul the thoughts,
if not the words, of that death-devoted Greek, who to the
question from the woman that he loved, "O, Ion, shall
we meet again," answered, "I have asked that dreadful
question of the hills that look eternal. Of the clear
streams that flow on forever. Of the bright stars amid
whose fields of azure my raised spirit has walked in glory.
All, all are dumb."

But when I gaze upon thy face, I feel that there is
something in the love that mantles through its beauty
that cannot wholly perish, we shall meet again, Clemanthe.
But it was not the name of Clemanthe that passed his
lips, it was ever "Inez, darling Inez, we shall meet again."

I here reproduce in his own words an extract appropriate
to this subject. It is from the ICONOCLAST of
March, 1896, and an article headed "Beecher on the Bible":

"I know nothing of the future; I spend no time
speculating upon it--I am overwhelmed by the Past and at
death grips with the Present. At the grave God draws
the line between the two eternities. Never has living man
lifted the somber veil of Death and looked beyond.

"There is a Deity. I have felt his presence. I have
heard his voice, I have been cradled in his imperial robe.
All that is, or was, or can ever be, is but "the visible
garment of God." I seek to know nothing of his plans