seems to me that there is a most interesting agreement here.
Banishment from the place where God lives is death. By the operations
of a natural law, a person who fails to correspond with a celestial
environment dies to that environment and must go or be placed in some
other, where he can function with that which is about him. God's
presence is exalted, holy, glorified. He who is not pure, holy,
glorified cannot possibly live there, is dead to that higher world.
A soul who cannot function in the celestial glory, may do so in the
terrestrial glory; one who cannot function in the terrestrial, may in
the telestial; and one who cannot 'abide the law' or function in the
telestial must find a place of no glory. This is inevitable--it cannot
be otherwise. Immutable law decrees it, and not simply the ruling of an
all wise power. The soul who fails to attain to the celestial glory,
fails to walk in the straight and narrow path which leads to it. Such a
person wanders in the by-paths called sin, and no power in the universe
can arbitrarily put him in an environment with which he cannot function.
'To be carnally minded is death', said Paul. 'The wages of sin is
death', or in other words, he who persistently avoids the Celestial
Highway will never arrive at the Celestial Gate. He who works evilly
will obtain evil wages. Anyway, what would it profit a man with dim
eyesight to be surrounded with ineffable glory? What would be the music
of the spheres to one bereft of hearing? What gain would come to a man
with a heart of stone to be in an environment of perfect and eternal
love!"

Dorian finished the reading and laid the paper on the desk. For some
time he sat very still, thinking of these beautiful words from his dear
friend to him. Surely, Uncle Zed was very much alive in any environment
which his beautiful life had placed him. Would that he, Dorian, could
live so that he might always be alive to the good and be dead to sin.

The stillness of the night was about him. The lamplight grew dim,
showing the oil to be gone, so he blew out the smoking wick. He opened
the stove door, and by the light of the dying fire he gathered up some
books to take home. He heard a noise as if someone were outside. He
listened. The steps were muffled in the snow. They seemed to approach
the house and then stop. There was silence for a few minutes, then
plainly he heard sobbing close to the door.

What could it mean? who could it be? Doubtless, some po