th right as we would
not have them. Let us remember, for ourselves, that such displeaseth
the Lord. He reckons it unbelief and mistrust. `How long,' saith He
unto Moses, `will this people provoke Me? and how long will it be ere
they believe Me?' Howbeit, as for our neighbours, we need not judge
them. And indeed, such matters depend much on men's complexions [Note
1], and some find it a deal easier to control them than other. And
after all, _Edith_, there is a sense wherein no man can ever be fully
satisfied in this life. We were meant to aspire; and if we were
entirely content with present things, then should we grovel. To submit
cheerfully is one thing: to be fully gratified, so that no desire is
left, is an other. We shall not be that, methinks, till we reach
Heaven."

"Shall we so, even there?" saith Sir _Robert_. "It hath alway seemed to
me that when _Diogenes_ did define his gods as `they that had no wants,'
he pointed to a very miserable set of creatures. Is it not human nature
that the thing present shall fall short of the thing prospective?"

"The _in posse_ is better than the _in esse_?" saith _Father_. "Well,
it should seem so, in this dispensation. But how, in the next world,
our powers may be extended, and our souls in some degree suffer change,
that we can be fully satisfied and yet be alway aspiring--I reckon we
cannot now understand. I only gather from Scripture that it shall be
thus. You and I know very little, _Robin_, of what shall be in Heaven."

"Ah, true,--true!" saith Sir _Robert_.

"It hath struck me at times," saith _Father_, "that while it may seem
strange to the young and eager soul, yet it is better understood as one
grows older,--how the account of Heaven given us in Scripture is nearly
all in negations. God and ourselves are the two matters positive. The
rest are nays: there shall be no pain, no crying, no sorrow, no night,
no death, no curse. And though youth would oft have it all yea, yet nay
suits age the better. An old man and weary feels the thought of active
bliss at times too much for him. It wearies him to think of perpetual
singing and constant flying. It is rest he needs--it is peace."

"Well, _Father_," saith _Milisent_, looking up, "I hope it is not wicked
of me, but I never did enjoy the prospect of sitting of a cloud and
singing _Hallelujah_ for ever and ever."

"Right what I was wont to think at thy years, _Milly_," saith _Mother_,
a-laughing.

"De