"Don't you think, Mrs. Flaxman, with a good many people, after the burning process, there would be so little left it would take a whole flock of them to make a decent sized individual?"
She laughed softly. "I never thought of it in that way. I am afraid now I will get to undressing my acquaintances, to try and find out how much that will be fit to take into higher existences they have in their composition."
"Mr. Winthrop is a very uncomfortable sort of person to live with, but I think he will have more noble qualities to carry somewhere after death than the average of my acquaintances. What a pity it is for such splendid powers of mind to be lost! He has the materials in him to make a grand angel."
Mrs. Flaxman looked up quickly.
"You cannot think it is his ultimate destiny to be lost?" she questioned.
"He doesn't believe in the Bible. What hope can he have that we will ever get to heaven?"
"A multitude of prayers are piled between him and perdition. His mother was a saintly character, whose dying breath was a prayer for him; and there are others who have taken his case daily to the mercy seat for years."
"I wish I had some one to pray for me," I said rather fretfully.
"My dear, I do not know any one who has more leisure to pray for themselves than you have."
I was surprised to hear her speak so lightly on such a solemn subject; but as I thought the matter over afterward, I could but acknowledge that she had answered me just as I deserved.