moved in his vine-grown arbor. His soul was
passionless, his face was calm. His book had fallen to the ground, and
his head rested on the back of his chair.

Suddenly there came a visitor to the arbor. Moses raised his head and
saw a being--whether man or woman I can not tell--with a face, oh! so
bright and calm, with eyes that looked from the deepest soul, and a pure
forehead that spoke of unworldly rest--a face that shone in its own
vista of light when all around was dark. The Presence bore an open book
in its hands, and came and stood before Moses Grant and looked earnestly
into his face.

'Who are you?' he cried, half in fear, before the calm look of his
visitor, and half in confidence, because of the look of love.

'I am the census-taker.'

'No, no; it was he who came a little while ago.'

'He was one census-taker--he came to learn how much you _seemed_ to
possess; I come to learn your _real_ possessions. I am the real
census-taker.'

Moses Grant knew not what it meant; he sat speechless, in wonder. He
would have fled, but he knew not where he could flee in the darkness; he
must remain with his strange visitor, as all men must one day stand
alone with an awakened Conscience.

'When were you born?' asked the Presence.

'Sixty years ago,' answered Moses.

'You understand me not. I do not ask for the time when you were born
into your outward show of life, but when you commenced to live.'

'Still I do not know your meaning,' said Moses.

'Then you have not yet been born. You exist--you do not live. Say not
again that you have lived sixty years, for your being has not yet
expanded into life.'

Oh! what great thoughts and dark memories came into the mind of Moses
Grant! Great thoughts of a nobler life of love than he had ever
known--of realities to which he was fast approaching--and a thousand
dark memories that he had often tried to obliterate from his mind. A
little while before, he thought he possessed a spotless reputation--and
so he did possess a spotless reputation when judged by human law. No man
ever knew him to steal; no man ever knew him to transgress any important
law. Nevertheless, he had had his own ends to gain, and he had gained
them. Yes--we might as well confess it--Moses Grant had lived a selfish
life. He knew how to take advantage of the technicalities of law, and he
knew how to be severe and unmerciful toward the poor. He remembered how,
years before, his son had longed for an education