She smiled half sadly, and half sweetly, for she could never, I believe, seem wholly sad. “Many of the stones,” she said, “are fallen. The inscription read at first not ‘of Christ,’ but ‘of Christendom.’ Before the memory of any living now the blocks were laid, and those which have crumbled have fallen, so that many believe the words were ever what they are. But turn and look.”
Far away the clouds had broken and were all gilded by the rising sun. There stood another palace, which seemed much like the first, yet perfect in symmetry and beauty.
“It is of the future,” I heard Hope say; “somewhere—beneath, above, behind, before, within,—somehow, future borders on that place which some call Heaven, the home of Love, of Knowledge, and of Joy.”
As she ceased to speak I knew I was alone within my chamber. The Christmas bells were ringing merrily, and as I went forth into the cheerful sunshine and saw the pleasant sights that I had passed by in the palace of my dream I felt all my old despair rung out and a cheerful, living hope rung in.
CLANCY’S HOME-COMING.
CLANCY’S HOME-COMING.
I. W. Bishop.
{Illustrations by C. W. Berry.}
