in no wise enter into it anything that
defileth, or whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie, but they
that are written in the Lamb's book of life.'"

The child listened, with his eyes upon his teacher's face and his arm
round him, as he had been "used," too, and when the reading was
finished lay quiet for a little time; while his friends too were
silent--thinking of "the city that hath foundations."

"That's the same gate," Johnny said in his slow, thoughtful way, as if
his mind had gone back to the morning hymn.

"Yes," Mr. Linden said, with lips that would not quite be controlled,
and yet answering the child's smile, "that is the gate where his little
child shall go in! And that is the beautiful city where the Lord Jesus
lives, and where my Johnny is going to be with him forever--and where
dear Miss Faith and I hope to come by and by."

The child's hands were folded together, and with a fair, pure smile he
looked from one face to the other; closing his eyes then in quiet
sleep, but with the smile yet left.

It was no time for words. The gates of the city seemed too near, where
the little traveller's feet were so soon to enter. The veil between
seemed so slight, that even sense might almost pass beyond it,--when
the Heaven-light was already shining on that fair little face! Faith
wiped away tears--and looked--and brushed them away again; but for a
long time was very silent. At last she said, very low, that it might be
quietly,--

"Endecott--it seems to me as if I could almost hear them!"

He half looked the question which yet needed no answer, looking down
then again at the little ransomed one in his arms, as he said in the
same low voice, wherein mingled a note of the church triumphant through
all its deep human feeling,--

"'And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book
and to open the seals thereof, for thou wast slain: and hast redeemed
us to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and people
and nation'!"

"And," said Faith presently, lower still,--"can't you, as Bunyan says,
hear the bells of the city ringing for joy!--"

Those "choral harmonies of heaven, heard or unheard," were stilling to
mortal speech and even mortal feeling. Very quietly the minutes and the
hours of that day succeeded each other. Quietly even on the sick
child's part; more so than yesterday; nature succumbed gently, and the
restless uneasiness which had marked the night and the preceding