ther does not so much shield his child from small pains,
but encourages him to get wisdom from them for the future, tries to
teach him endurance and courage. Pain is necessary as an element in
education, possibly there is no evolution possible without it. The
father may regret it, but, if he is wise, knows that it must be. He
suffers twice as much as the child from the infliction of the pain. The
All-Father, being at once all-knowing and all-loving, can see the end
of the education while we only see it in process, and perhaps exclaim:
'What a frightful state of things,' or like your favorite 'Stephen
Blackpool,' 'It's all a muddle.'"

"And the end you consider to be perfection, and eternal union with God.
How can you think immortality probable?"

"It is the necessary outcome of belief in such a God, such a Father as
we have spoken of. What! Could God have willed that His children whom He
really loves should, after a time, fade utterly away? If so, He would be
less loving than an average earthly father. If He did indeed love them,
and would fain have had them ever with Him, but could not, then He would
not be all-powerful."

"I see you a universalist, a great contrast to my Early Father here,
who gloats over the delightful prospect of watching from his comfortable
heaven the tortures of all unbelievers. But, tell me, what do you
think would be our position in your unseen world? I suppose the mere
realization of having given one's life in a mistaken cause would be
about the most terrible pain conceivable?"

"I think," said Charles Osmond, with one of his grave, quiet smiles,
"that death will indeed be your 'gate of life,' that seeing the light
you will come to your true self, and exclaim, 'Who'd have thought it?'"

The every day language sounded quaint, it made Erica smile; but Charles
Osmond continued, with a brightness in his eyes which she was far from
understanding: "And you know there are to be those who shall say: 'Lord
when saw we Thee in distress and helped Thee?' They had not recognized
Him here, but He recognized them there? They shared in the 'Come ye
blessed of my Father.'"

"Well," said Erica, thoughtfully, "if any Christianity be true, it must
be your loving belief, not the blood-thirsty scheme of the Calvinists.
If THAT could by any possibility be true, I should greatly prefer, like
Kingsley's dear old 'Wulf,' to share hell with my own people."

The words had scarcely left her lips when, with a start