"Could you go with me this morning?" was her inquiry, as she turned her radiant face again toward the river and the lovely fields beyond.
"With pleasure," I replied. "I have often wished to go myself. There is something very inviting in the beautiful landscape beyond the river. Where is my brother Oliver?" I asked; "will he not accompany us?"
"No," she said, looking smilingly toward me, "he has gone upon an important mission for the Master to-day; but you and I, dear, can go, and be at home again before his return."
"Then let us do so," I replied, rising and giving her my hand.
She at once arose, and, instead of turning toward the stairway in the center of the building, we turned and walked deliberately to the low coping that surrounded the upper veranda. Without a moment's hesitation we stepped over this into the sweet air that lay about us. There was no more fear of falling than if our feet had been upon the solid earth. We had the power of passing through the air at will, and through the water, just as we had the power of walking upon the crystal paths and greensward about us.
We ascended slightly until we were just above the tree-tops, and then—what shall I say?—we did not fly, we made no effort either with our hands or our feet; I can only think of the word "drifting" that will at all describe this wonderful experience. We went as a leaf or a feather floats through the air on a balmy day, and the sensation was most delightful. We saw beneath us through the green branches of the trees the little children playing, and the people walking—some for pleasure, some for duty. As we neared the river we looked down on the pleasure-boats upon the water and upon the people sitting or lying or walking on the pebbly bottom; and we saw them with the same distinctness as though we were looking at them simply through the atmosphere.
Conversing as we drifted onward, we soon were over the tops of the hills to which we had looked so longingly from the veranda of my sister's house, and, for some time, we had no words to exchange; our hearts were filled with sensations such as only the scenes of heaven can give. Then my sister said very softly, quoting from one of the old earth-hymns:
"Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood.
Stand dressed in living green."
And, in the same spirit, I answered, "It is indeed a rapturous scene—
"'That rises to our sight,
Sweet fields arrayed in living green, and rivers of delight.'"