Part 2 (1/2)
”'Indeed you may,' I said, touched by the request. 'What can you do?'
”We were here at the time, and looking about, one of them asked, 'May we beautify this room?'
”'Undoubtedly,' I said, wondering what they would try to do.
”At once the girls, all of whom had immense bunches of roses in their hands, began to throw the flowers broadcast over the floor and against the walls. Wherever they struck the walls, they, to even my surprise, remained, as though in some way permanently attached. When the roses had all been scattered, the room looked just as it does now, only the flowers were really fresh-gathered roses. Then the boys each produced a small case of delicate tools, and in a moment all, boys and girls, were down upon the marble floor and busy at work. How they did it I do not know--it is one of the celestial arts, taught to those of highly artistic tastes--but they embedded each living flower just where and as it had fallen, in the marble, and preserved it as you see before you.
They came several times before the work was completed, for the flowers do not wither here, nor fade, but were always fresh and perfect. And such a merry, happy company of young people, I never saw before. They laughed and chatted and sang, as they worked; and I could not help wis.h.i.+ng more than once that the friends whom they had left mourning for them might look in upon this happy group, and see how little cause they had for sorrow. At last when all was complete, they called me to see their work, and I was not chary of my praises either for the beauty of the work or for their skill in performing it. Then, saying they would be sure to return when either of you came, they went away together, to do something of the kind elsewhere, I doubt not.”
Happy tears had been dropping upon my hands, clasped idly in my lap, during much of this narrative, and now I asked half-brokenly, for I was greatly touched:
”Who were these lovely people, Frank? Do you know them?”
”Of course, I know them now; but they were all strangers to me till they came here that first morning, except Lulu Sprague.”
”Who are they?”
”There were three Marys--Mary Green, Mary Bates, Mary Chalmers; Lulu Sprague and Mae Camden. These were the girls, each lovely and beautiful. The boys, all manly, fine fellows, were Carroll Ashland, Stanley and David Chalmers.”
”Precious children!” I said. ”How little I thought my love for them, in the olden days, would ever bring to me this added happiness here!
How little we know of the links binding the two worlds!”
”Ah, yes!” said my brother, ”that is just it. How little we know! If only we could realize while we are yet mortals, that day by day we are building for eternity, how different our lives in many ways would be!
Every gentle word, every generous thought, every unselfish deed, will become a pillar of eternal beauty in the life to come. We cannot be selfish and unloving in one life, and generous and loving in the next; the two lives are too closely blended--one but a continuation of the other. But come now to the library.”
Rising, we crossed the room that henceforward was to hold for me such tender a.s.sociations, and entered the library. It was a glorious apartment--the walls lined from ceiling to floor with rare and costly books. A large, stained-gla.s.s window opened upon the front veranda, and two large bow-windows, not far apart, were in the back of the room.
A semicircular row of shelves, supported by very delicate pillars of gray marble, about six feet high, extended some fifteen feet into the s.p.a.cious main room and cut it into two sections lengthwise, each with one of the bowed windows in the back, leaving still a large s.p.a.ce beyond the dividing line, where the two sections united again into one.
The concave side of the semicircle of shelves was toward the entrance of the room; and close to it, not far removed from the bowed window, stood a beautiful writing-desk, with everything ready for use; and upon it was a chaste golden bowl, filled with scarlet carnations, of whose spicy odor I had been dimly conscious for some time.
”My brother's desk,” said Frank.
”And his favorite flowers,” I added.
”Yes, that follows. Here we never forget the tastes and preferences of those we love.”
It is not to be supposed that these details were at once noticed by me, but they unfolded to me gradually as we lingered, talking together. My first sensation upon entering the room was genuine surprise at the sight of the books, and my first words were:
”Why, have we books in heaven?”
”Why not?” asked my brother. ”What strange ideas we mortals have of the pleasures and duties of this blessed life! We seem to think that death of the body means an entire change to the soul. But that is not the case, by any means. We bring to this life the same tastes, the same desires, the same knowledge, we had before death. If these were not sufficiently pure and good to form a part of this life, then we ourselves may not enter. What would be the use of our ofttimes long lives, given to the pursuit of certain worthy and legitimate knowledge, if at death it all counts as nothing, and we begin this life on a wholly different line of thought and study? No, no; would that all could understand, as I said before, that we are building for eternity during our earthly life! The purer the thoughts, the n.o.bler the ambitions, the loftier the aspirations, the higher the rank we take among the hosts of heaven; the more earnestly we follow the studies and duties in our life of probation, the better fitted we shall be to carry them forward, on and on to completion and perfection here.”
”But the books--who writes them? Are any of them books we knew and loved below?”
”Undoubtedly, many of them; all, indeed, that in any way helped to elevate the human mind or immortal soul. Then, many of the rarest minds in the earth-life, upon entering on this higher life, gain such elevated and extended views of the subjects that have been with them lifelong studies, that, pursuing them with zest, they write out for the benefit of those less gifted, the higher, stronger views they have themselves acquired, thus remaining leaders and teachers in this rarer life, as they were while yet in the world. Is it to be expected that the great soul who has so recently joined our ranks, whose 'Changed Life' and 'Pax Vobisc.u.m' uplifted so many lives while on earth, should lay his pen aside when his clear brain and great heart have read the mystery of the higher knowledge? Not so. When he has conned his lessons well, he will write them out for the benefit of others, less gifted, who must follow. Leaders there must always be, in this divine life, as in the former life--leaders and teachers in many varied lines of thought. But all this knowledge will come to you simply and naturally as you grow into the new life.”
CHAPTER III.