When I was a child, heaven was to me a peopled place, a wonderful reality; and I remember a dream that I had—­what a strange dream it was!  For I went to heaven, and I saw a shining One, sitting on a throne, and many beautiful ones were standing and seated around the throne, and my father and mother were there; and they had crowns on their heads, and held each other by the hand, and looked down upon me so lovingly.  I knew that it was my father, because my mother held him by the hand, though my father died the day I was born, and I stood before them in the great light of a Heavenly Presence, as such a poor little earth-child, but I was happy, inexpressibly happy, only they did not touch me; but I was not fit to be touched by such soft, shining hands.  And what was yet a greater joy than ever to see my unknown father and mother on the other side of the throne, I saw my brother, my dear, gentle, beautiful little brother, who, seven years older than I, had loved and played with me on the earth.  He was clothed in white garments, and was grown from a child to a youth, and was so full of a noble and beautiful grace.  He smiled upon me; he did not speak; none spoke.  All was so still, and serene, and bright, and beautiful.  Next morning I awoke as if yet in my dream, so vivid was the whole scene before me.  I could have danced and sung all day, “I have seen my father and mother and brother in the heavenly courts.”  But what are dreams?

Yet, it is wonderful to go back to the dreams and thoughts of childhood; they are so distinct; such living realities.  I often remember a speech I made in those far childish days.  I was lying in bed with a friend in the early gray morning.  All at once I started up and said—­“Oh, how I wish I had lived in the days when Jesus lived upon the earth!”

I was asked why?  And I replied, “Because I could have loved Him; I would have followed as those women followed Him; I would have kissed the hem of His garment.”

A laugh checked the further flow of my talk; but I lay down again, and then my thoughts wandered off to the mountains of Judea, and I saw a Divine Man walking over the hills and valleys, and women following Him.  In those days I knew two passages in the Bible, and that was all that I knew of it, for I never read it.  But I learned at Sunday school, Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, and the first five verses of the first chapter of John.  And I remember how confused I always was over the WORD, for some told me it meant “Logos.”

What was “Logos?” I could never fathom it.  Now I know what “Logos” means.  And yet the mystery is not fathomed.  Well, let that go.  I could never understand the Bible.  However, in those days it was something holy and sacred to me; because the Bible that I owned belonged to my dear father, and I often kissed it, and loved the Book dearly, but I could not read it by myself.  But I did read occasionally in the Bible, to an old woman; she lived on the way to the