“This world is not our rest.  Then why should I wish to pitch my tent on this side of Jordan, and overlook all the blessings of the promised land?  Let me rather rejoice in tribulations, if through them I may obtain the salvation of God.”

That night Anthony enjoyed a calm refreshing sleep.  He dreamed of his mother, dreamed that he saw her in glory, that he heard her speak words of comfort to his soul, and he awoke with the rising sun, to pour out his heart in thankfulness to Him who had bestowed upon him the magnificent boon of life.

The beauty of the morning tempted him to take a stroll in the fields before breakfast.  In the parlor he had left his hat and cane.  On entering the room to obtain them, he found Clary already up and reading by the open window.  “Good morning, gentle coz,” and he playfully lifted one of the glossy curls that hid her fair face from his view.  “What are you studying?”

“For eternity,” said Clarissa, in a sweet solemn tone, as she raised to his face her mild serious eyes.

“’Tis an awful thought.”

“Yes.  But one full of joy.  This is the grave, cousin Anthony.  This world to which we cling, this sepulchre in which we bury our best hopes, this world of death.  That which you call death is but the gate of life; the dark entrance to the land of love and sunbeams.”

What a holy fire flashed from her meek eyes as she spoke!  What deep enthusiasm pervaded that still fair face!  Could this inspired creature be his child-like simple little cousin?  Anthony continued to gaze upon her with astonishment, and when the voice ceased, he longed to hear her speak again.

“Tell me, Clary, what power has conquered, in your young heart, the fear of death?”

“Truth!—­simple truth.  That mighty pillar that upholds the throne of God.  I sought the truth.  I loved the truth, and the truth has made me free.  Death! from a child I never feared death.

“I remember, Anthony, when I was a very little girl, so young that it is the very first thing that memory can recall, I was sick, and sitting upon the ground at my dear sister Lucy’s feet.  My head was thrown back upon her lap, and it ached sadly.  She patted my curls, and leaning forward, kissed my hot brow, and told me, ’That if I were a good girl when I died I should go to heaven.’  Eagerly I asked her—­What was death, and what was heaven?

“Death, she told me, was the end of life here, and the beginning of a new life that could never end, in a better world.  That heaven was a glorious place, the residence of the great God, who made me and the whole world.  But no pain or sorrow was ever felt in that blissful place.  That all the children of God were good and happy.

“I wept for joy when she told me all this.  I forgot my pain.  I longed to die and go to heaven; and from that hour death became to me a great anticipation of future enjoyment.  It mingled in all my thoughts.  It came to me in dreams, and it always wore a beautiful aspect.