As there are gradations of righteousness and intelligences in the spirit world, there must be a vast field of usefulness for preaching the gospel, training the ignorant, and helping the weak. As in the world of mortality, this work is carried on by those who have accepted the gospel and who have conformed their lives to its principles; so in the spirit world, the righteous find pleasant and profitable employment in working for the salvation of souls.

And as they work they must needs talk of the glories of the great plan of salvation, made perfect through the atonement of the Lord Jesus. That which they look forward to most keenly, that about which they talk and sing most fervently is the time when they also shall follow their Savior through the door of the resurrection which He has opened for them,—when their souls shall be perfectly redeemed, and they shall be clothed upon with a body of the heavenly order, a tabernacle incorruptible and immortal with which to go on into the celestial world.

Though the future is most glorious to these people, the past is also bright. The hopes of the future are well grounded on the facts of the past. An ever-present theme is that of Christ's first visit to the spirit world, when, having died on the cross, He brought life and light and immortality to the world of spirits, entering even into the prison house where the disobedient had lain for a long time, and preached the gospel to them.

And among these who gloried both in the past and in the future were Rupert and Henrik. Often they conversed on themes near to their hearts:

"It must have been a place of darkness, of sad despairing hearts, that prison house, before Christ's visit to it," said Rupert. "There, as in a pit, dwelt those who in earth-life had rejected the truth, and who, sinking low in the vices of the world, permitted themselves to be led captive by the power of the evil one. Noah in his day preached to them, but they laughed him to scorn and continued in their evil ways. Others of the prophets in their generations had warned them, but without avail; so here were found Satan's harvest from the fruitful fields of the earth."

"I can well imagine that long, long, night of darkness," added Henrik. "No ray of hope pierced the gloom of their abode. The prison walls loomed around and above them, shutting out any glimpse of heaven. These had rejected the truth, which alone can make men free. They themselves had shut out the light when it would have shone in upon their vision. They had chosen the evil, and the evil was claiming its own. Outside the prison were their fellows who had chosen to do the right, basking in the light of a clear conscience, enjoying the approval of the Lord. These faithful ones were going on to eternal perfection. How long would it take the prisoners, if they ever were released, to overtake those ahead? Between these was a great gulf fixed, which, in the ordinary order of things, could never be lessened or bridged."

"But at last the time of mercy and deliverance came. I remember how the events of the time have been described to me. Just before the coming of the Lord, a peculiar, indescribable tremor ran through this spirit world as if one pulse beat through the universe and that pulse had been disturbed. The spirits in prison looked in awe at one another, many crouching in terror, fearful that the day of judgment had come. The vast multitude of the ignorant wondered what the 'peculiar feeling' could mean. The righteous, who had been looking wistfully for some manifestation of the coming of the Lord, whispered to each other, 'The Lord is dying for the sins of the world!'

"Yes; the prophets of every dispensation had labored faithfully to prepare the world of spirits among whom they lived for the coming of the Lord and Savior. There were Adam, Noah, Abraham, with those who followed them; there were Lehi, Nephi, Mosiah, and the others of their race; there were the prophets who had lived among the lost Ten tribes; these had all been valiant in earth-life, and were faithful yet in the spirit world. The burden of their message in mortality had been the coming of Christ the Redeemer, and now they still looked forward with the eye of faith to Him who should die for the sins of the world, and who should deliver them from the bondage of the grave. They understood that the body of flesh which had been given them in mortality was necessary for their full salvation. Christ would bring to pass the resurrection, so that bodies would be restored to them, not corruptible as before, but perfected, immortal and glorious, a fit tabernacle for the immortal spirit with which to go on into the eternal mansions of the Father."

"But oh, that time, brother, when the Son of God was dying on the cross! While the earth was shrouded in darkness, and the bulk of it trembled in sympathy with the death throes of its Maker, the spirit world also received the imprint of the terrible event on Calvary as for a moment the whole spiritual creation lay in tense expectancy. The usual occupations were suspended. Speech became low and constrained. Songs ended abruptly, and laughter ceased. There were no audible sobs, neither sighing. Bird and beast were stilled, as if the end had come, and nothing more mattered. Then, in a little while, the tenseness relaxed, and everything went on as before, though much subdued. The righteous in the Paradise of God quietly gathered themselves together in their usual places of worship. They clasped each other's hands, and looked with trembling gladness into each other's faces. There was no fear here: they were ready."

"And then His actual coming! That which had been fore-ordained from before the foundation of the world was about to be fulfilled; that which had been the theme of the prophets from the beginning was at the door; that which the seers of all times and nations had beheld in vision was now to be realized; that about which poets had sung; that for which every pure heart had yearned; that for which the ages had waited, was now here! A feeling of sweet peace filled the righteous, which expressed itself in songs of praise and gladness. Thus they watched and waited."

"Then Jesus stood in their midst, and they beheld the glorious presence of their Lord. Then there came to their hearts a small, sweet, penetrating voice, testifying that this was Jesus Christ the Son of God who had glorified the name of the Father; who was the life and the light of the world; who had drunk of the bitter cup which the Father had given him; and had glorified the Father in taking upon Himself the sins of the world, in which He had suffered the will of the Father in all things from the beginning. The multitude fell down at his feet and worshiped."

"I have been told that as Jesus entered the prison of the condemned in the spirit world, a murmur of greeting welcomed Him. It was timid and faint at first, but it increased in volume and force until it became a shout.

"'Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors.'"

"'Hail, hail, to the Lord.'"

"'And the King of Glory shall come in.'"

"'Who is the King of Glory?'"

"'The Lord, strong and mighty.'"

"'The Lord, will not cast off forever; but though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion, according to the multitude of His mercies.'"

"'I will not contend forever, neither will I be always wroth.'"

"'Come and let us return unto the Lord: for He hath torn and He will heal; He hath smitten and He will bind us up.'"

"'I will heal their back slidings, I will love them freely; for mine anger is turned away.'"

"'Who is a God like unto Thee, that pardoneth iniquity. He retaineth not His anger forever, because He delighteth in mercy.'"

"'Say to the prisoners, Go forth; to them that are in darkness, show yourselves. I am He that liveth and was dead; and behold I am alive forevermore, anew: and I have the keys of hell and death.'"

"And thus the gates were lifted, and the King of Glory entered. And what a radiance shone in the gloom! The shades of darkness fled, the chains of error dropped asunder, the overburdened heart found glad relief, for the Lord brought the tidings of great joy to the spirits in prison, offering them pardon and peace in exchange for their broken hearts."

"Then they sang:

'"Hark, ten thousand thousand voices Sing a song of Jubilee! A world, once captive, now rejoices, Freed from long captivity. Hail, Emanuel! Great Deliverer! Hail, our Savior, praise to thee! Now the theme, in pealing thunders, Through the universe is rung; Now in gentle tones, the wonders Of redeeming grace is sung."'

"For three days, as counted by earth-time, the Redeemer ministered in this spirit world, preaching the gospel, giving instructions, and making plain the way of His servants to follow. Joy and gladness filled many hearts. Then, when the time had fully come, the great Captain of Salvation led the way against the enemy of men's souls. He laid low the Monster that had for ages kept grim watch at the Gates of Death. He broke through the grave to the regions of life and light and immortality. The Hope of Ages thus went forth conquering; and those who followed Him through the resurrection from the dead sang:

"'Death is swallowed up in victory! O, death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?'"



II.

"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting."—Gal. 6:7, 8.

In the spirit world are Rupert, Signe, Henrik, Marie, Rachel and all our friends in their time and place. These are employed in joyous activity, as they see their field of usefulness continually widen. Rupert had done a great work before the others had come. He had preached the gospel to many people, mostly his ancestors, among whom there had been at the time of his arrival among them an awakening and a desire for the truth. He had traced his family back to those who on earth had been known as the Pilgrim Fathers, thence through many generations to the Norsemen of northern Europe. His wife's family he had also searched out, and he had discovered, greatly to his delight, that her family and his met in a sturdy, somewhat fierce, Viking chief. Rupert had sought him out, and had told him of Christ and His gospel—and the Viking had been willing to be taught. When Signe had come, Rupert had brought her to visit her many-times-great-grandmother, who was a beautiful flaxen-haired, blue-eyed woman, whom Signe herself somewhat resembled.

Then when Rupert met and became acquainted with Henrik, Marie, and Rachel, he told them of what he had done, and how that their vicarious work for the dead had fitted so nicely in with his preaching, in that many of those for whom they had been baptized were those whom he had converted. "We have been working in harmony and in conjunction," exclaimed Rupert, "and God's providence is even now clearly justified." What joy was there when Henrik and his friends met those for whom they had performed the necessary earthly rites! Many of these had long ago believed the gospel, and their hearts had been turned to their children—their descendants living on the earth—that they would remember their fathers who had gone before; and these were overjoyed when they met their "saviors," as they called them. Then, there were others who had not accepted the work done for them, and these were, naturally, not so enthusiastic in their greetings. Others there were who were yet in ignorance of Christ, of His plan of salvation, and the work that had been done for them. These would have to be taught and given a chance to accept or reject what had been done.

"You enjoy a happiness that does not come to me," said a brother to Henrik, "in that you receive the love and joyous greetings of those for whom you did work in mortality."

"Had you no opportunity to do such work?" asked Henrik.

"Yes; but I had no names of ancestry, and the truth is, I did not try to get any."

"You did not do all in your power?"

"No; I was careless in the matter."

"If you had only tried, the way would have been opened. That is a true principle. We do not know what regions of usefulness lie before us if we do no exploring."

Signe and Rachel were closely associated, and they performed missions together to their less enlightened sisters whose condition was not so favorable. These were of the frivolous and foolish women who had been taken captive by earthly things. All their treasures had been of earth, so on earth they had to be left, for none could be taken into the spirit world; these, therefore, were poor indeed. They had nothing with which to occupy themselves: in earth-life, wealth, fashion, the gratification of depraved appetites and passions, and the pampering of worldly vanities had been their chief concern; and now that earthly things were no more, these women were as if lost in a strange world, having no sure footing, groping about in semi-darkness, hungering and thirsting, but finding no means by which they might be satisfied. They laughed and appeared to make merry because it was their nature so to do, but their laugh was empty, and their merriment rang hollow and untrue.

"I am more than ever thankful," said Signe to Rachel when they had labored long with a group of frivolous women, "that the gospel reached us in earth-life."

"And that we accepted it," added Rachel.

"Yes; many of these sisters of ours are not evil; they are just weak,—empty of good. Their earthly training was at fault. And then some of them have told me that they were very much surprised to find that death had not worked a transformation in them: they have still the same feelings, desires and thoughts as before."

"Some foolish things were taught in earth-life," said Rachel, "one of them being deathbed repentance. Common sense, if not reason, ought to have told us that a change of heart coming when a person is in full possession of his faculties is far better than the confessions made in fear of death. Repentance should have come further back, for the sooner we turn about on the right way, the further we get on the road to perfection."

Rachel finished her little speech with a smile—the simple sweet smile, fixed into her nature for all time. A strange sister came up to her, who was greeted pleasantly.

"I want to know more of you two," she said. "There is something about you different from me or my mates. When you mix with us and talk with us, I can feel it, but I don't know what it is. You appear to me to be, lilies-of-the-valley among weeds—yes, that's it."

"And isn't a weed just a useful plant grown wild?" asked Signe. "All it needs is careful cultivation. Come with us as we walk along. We shall be pleased to talk with you. We are not very wise, but we may always ask the brethren who are wiser, for more light."

And so these three went slowly along the beautiful paths of spirit-land, conversing as they went. The hazel eyes of the brown-haired stranger opened in wide astonishment at what her sisters told her. Sometimes she asked questions, sometimes she shook her head in disbelief. She had been a "worldly" woman, she told them, never thinking that there would be any life other than the one she was living while on the earth; and so she had shaped her daily conduct by that narrow standard. Her earth-life had ended sadly, and existence had been bitter ever since, "Restless and hopeless, I have wandered for a long time," she said. "I have seen you two a number of times and have heard you talk to the women. Your words seemed to bring to me a glimpse of something better, but I never had the courage to speak to you until now."

Signe put her arms around her, drew her close, and kissed her cheek. "Let us do you all the good we can," she said. "We are going now to attend a meeting where my husband is to speak. Come with us."

Rachel linked her arm into that of the stranger's who willingly accompanied them. "Is your husband also a preacher?" she asked of Rachel.

"I have no husband," was the reply. "I did not—I mean, he did not find me, has not found me yet." Rachel was somewhat confused but she smiled as ever.

"She means," explained Signe, "that she did not marry while in earth-life, for the very good reason that she had no chance—"

"None such that I could accept," added Rachel. Then as the newly-found friend looked at her inquiringly, she continued:

"I have always believed, and I believe now, that I have a mate somewhere, but he has not yet been revealed. Frequently I asked the Lord about it in earth-life, and the answer by the spirit always was 'Wait, patiently wait'; so I am still waiting."

"And you still have faith," asked the stranger, "that the God of heaven will answer your prayers and bring about all things for the best?"

"Why, certainly."

"I wish I could believe that. Had I in earth life had some such belief to anchor to, perhaps I would not have made so many mistakes. I married twice, and they were both mistakes. The one chance I had of getting a man—I mean, one who does not belie the word—I threw away, because he was poor in worldly goods; but I suffered through my foolish errors.... I have heard of people praying about many things, but never have I heard of the Lord being asked about love affairs."

"That may be true," said Signe; "and it shows how foolish we were. Why should people importune the Lord about small trials and petty ailments, and at the same time neglect to ask His guidance on matters of love and marriage which make or mar one's life?"

There seemed to be no immediate answer to this query, so the three passed along in silence. Presently the newcomer spoke again:

"I am getting more light and hope since I associate with you two. I believe my faith is being kindled, and O, it feels so good to get a little firm footing."

"Yes, dear sister," said Rachel. "The tangled threads of earth-life are not all straightened out yet. It will take time, and we must have patience."

Arriving at the place of meeting, the three women took positions near the platform upon which the speakers sat. Rupert was the principal speaker. He began by telling his listeners something about his experiences in earth-life. He spoke of his boyhood days, of the trials and difficulties he had encountered, and how near he had come to being lost to all good. Then he told how the Lord had rescued him, and brought him to a knowledge of the gospel of salvation. "And the Lord's chief instrument in this work of rescue," the speaker said, "was a beautiful, good woman, who became my wife. O, you women, what power you have for good or evil! See to it that you use your powers for the purposes of good."

Rachel smiled at Signe while they listened, for Rupert's and Signe's story was quite familiar to her. All the time Rupert had been speaking, the woman who had come with them sat as if spellbound, her big eyes fixed on the speaker. When Rupert closed, Signe said to her friend:

"That is my husband. Let us go up to him; he will be glad to meet you."

But the woman drew back as if afraid. "I can't," she whispered. "Forgive me, but I must go"—and with a faint cry she retreated and disappeared in the crowd, the two women looking after in wonder and astonishment.

Just then Rupert stepped up to them. Seeing their wonder, he asked the reason. Signe explained.

"I think I can guess who it was," said Rupert. "Well, well," he murmured as if to himself, "I had nearly forgotten her."

"Yes, I believe it was she," added Signe.

"Was who?" inquired Rachel.

But Rupert stopped any reply that his wife might wish to make by interrupting with:

"I saw an impressive sight not long ago—Come let us be getting on our way home, and I shall tell it to you."

They were willing to listen as they journeyed. "We were out," began Rupert—"a brother and I—getting some information needed in one of the temples on earth for a brother who had gone as far as he could with his genealogy. As we were talking to a group of sisters a man rushed in upon us. With quick, eager words he asked us if we had seen someone whom he named and described. At the sight of him, one of the women shrunk back as if to hide in the crowd, but he saw her, and exclaimed:

"'Is that you? Yes—Oh, have I found you at last!'"

"The sister put forth her hand as if to ward him off, as he pressed through the crowd to her. 'How did you get here?' she asked. 'Keep away—you are unclean—keep away.'

"He paused in some astonishment at this reception. Then he pleaded with her to let him accompany her; but she retreated from him, crying, 'You are unclean; do not touch me.'

"'Yes,' he acknowledged, 'I suppose I have been a sinner; but listen to my justification: I sinned to drown my sorrow when you died. I, also, wanted to die. My heart was broken—I could not stand it—it was because I loved you so—'

"'No; you did not love me. Love is pure—made purer by sorrow. Had you truly loved, you would not have sinned so grievously. Your sorrow needed to be repented of. Sorrow cannot be drowned in sin—no, no; go away. Please go; you frighten me.'

"The man stood rigid for some time, and the expression on his face was something terrible to see. The cold, clear truth had for the first time burst upon him to his convincing. He had a 'bright recollection of all his guilt,' and his torment was 'as a lake of fire and brimstone.' The woman, recovering somewhat from her fright, stood before him with innocent, clear-shining eyes, with half pity and half fear showing in her beautiful countenance—for the woman was beautiful. The man stood for a moment, which seemed a long time to all who witnessed the scene, then his head dropped, his form seemed to shrivel up as he slouched out of our company and disappeared from sight."

There was silence. Then Rupert added, "And yet some people tried to make us believe that there is no hell."

Rachel, even, forgot to ask further questions regarding the identity of the woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, for just then Henrik and Marie appeared. With them was another woman, and the three were so preoccupied that they were oblivious to all others.

"You are too late for the meeting," said Rupert.

"I did intend to get there in time," replied Henrik, "but don't you see who is here?"

Rupert did not recognize the woman who stood by Marie with arms about each other, but Signe cried in joyous greeting, "Clara, Clara, is that you?"

"This is Clara," said Marie to Rupert, "she who came to Henrik after I left him,—who helped him so much, and who was so good to my children. She has just come, and has brought us much good news from them. I am so glad." Marie's arm drew tight around the newcomer as she kissed her cheek.

"I, also, am glad to welcome you," said Rupert. "Brother Henrik," he added, "your excuse for non-attendance at our meeting is accepted."



III.

"The Lord ... will fulfill the desire of them that fear him; he will also hear their cry."—Psalms 156:19.

Rachel found continual delight in all the wonders of spirit-land. Her circle of acquaintances enlarged rapidly, as those for whom she had done temple work were glad to know her, and to know her was to love her. These brought her in touch with many others; thus her sphere of usefulness extended until she, too, could say that she was busier than ever in joy-giving activities.

Sometimes Rachel went on what she called "excursions of exploration." Usually she went alone, for the habit of doing things of herself still clung to her. Frequently, in the throngs of people with whom she mingled, she was accosted by someone who recognized her. Rachel did not remember faces easily, but (she was on one of her excursions) she knew this woman who touched her on the arm, and said:

"You are Sister Rachel, are you not?"

"Yes; and you—yes, I know you. I am glad to meet you. How are you? Has the Lord shown you,—has He satisfied you? You see I remember you well."

The woman showed her gladness at Rachel's recognition. "The Lord has shown me abundantly and graciously," she replied; "but come with me away from the crowd. I shall be pleased to tell you all about it." Rachel accompanied the woman, who led her out into some quieter streets, thence to a beautiful home under tall trees. Flowers bloomed and birds sang in the garden. The two women seated themselves by a playing fountain.

"I am glad you have not forgotten me. My name you may not remember—it is Sister Rose."

"Your face, dear sister, your beautiful face marked with that deep sorrow, no one could forget;" said Rachel, "but now the sorrow is gone, I see, and the beauty remains."

Sister Rose took the other's hand caressingly. "That day in the temple," she said, "I came there as a place of last resort. I was suffering, and had tried everything that I could think of to ease my troubled soul. I had prayed to God to give me some manifestation regarding my boy. I came to the temple to get a great favor, and I obtained a blessing. Instead of receiving some miraculous manifestation, you came to me and led me gently to a seat by ourselves. And there you talked to me. It was not so much what you said, but the spirit by which you said it that soothed and quieted and rested me. You repeated to me some verses, do you remember? I had you write them out, and I committed them to memory."

"Do you remember them yet?"

"Listen:

"Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should I Weary high heaven with restless prayers and tears! Thou knowest all! My heart's unuttered cry Hath soared beyond the stars and reached Thine ears.

Thou knowest—ah, Thou knowest! Then what need, Oh, loving God, to tell Thee o'er and o'er. And with persistent iteration plead As one who crieth at some closed door."

"That day I went away comforted and strengthened. Do you recollect?"

"Yes; but what was your trouble? I do not remember that."

"My son, my only child, was taken so cruelly from me. He was the hope of my life, and when he answered the call to go on a mission to the islands of the sea, I let him go gladly, because it was on the Lord's business. Then some months later the news came that he had died. I was crazed with grief. I could not understand why the Lord would permit such a thing to take place. Was my boy not in His service? Why did not the Lord take care of His own?"

"And so you suffered, both because of your loss and because of your thoughts," said Rachel. "Poor sister,—but now?"

"He is with me now, and it has all been explained. We live in this house. Do you care to hear the story?"

"If you desire to tell it, yes."

"You seem so near and dear to me that I may tell it to you. My boy, while on his mission, was tempted. He has told me all about it—he was tempted sorely. He was in great danger, and so the Lord, to prevent him from falling into the mire of sin, permitted him to be taken away. They brought his lifeless body home to me, but his spirit went back to its Maker pure and unspotted from the sins of the world,—and thus I found him here, a big, fine-looking man as he was. You ought to see him."

"Mother," someone called from the direction of the house.

"That is he now," said the mother, rising.

"Mother, where are you? Oh!" the son exclaimed as he caught sight of the two women. He came up to them and rested his arm tenderly on his mother's shoulder. He was big and handsome, and Rachel's eyes dropped before his curious gaze.

"David, this is Sister Rachel, whom I first met in earth-life in the temple. I think I have told you about her and what a comfort she was to me."

"I am very glad to know you," said he, as he clasped Rachel's hand. Then there was a pause which promised to become awkward, at which David said:

"Mother, I want to show you something in the back garden. You know I have been experimenting with my roses. I believe I have obtained some wonderful color effects. You'll come also?" he asked Rachel.

The three walked on together into the garden where David exhibited and explained his work. When, at length, Rachel said it was time she was going, the mother urged her to come again.

"I'm going along with Sister Rachel to her home, and to find out where she lives," explained David, as he stepped along, unbidden, by Rachel's side.

And so these two walked side by side for the first time. They talked freely on many topics, she listening contentedly. They smiled into each other's eyes, and at the end of that short journey, something had happened. True love had awakened in two hearts. Through all the shifting scenes of earth-life, nothing like this had ever come to this man and this woman. Love had waited all this time. The power that draws kindred souls together is not limited to the few years of earth-life. While time lasts, God will provide sometime, somewhere, in which to give opportunity for every deserving soul. Here were two whose hearts beat as one; but one must needs have left mortality early in his course, while the other went on to the end alone. The reason for this was difficult to see by mortal eyes, but now—

"I'm coming again to see you," said David, as he prepared to depart. "I have so much to tell you; and you,—you have said very little. I must hear your story too."

"I have no story," said she. "My earth-life was very uneventful. I just seemed to be waiting—"

"Yes?"

But Rachel was confused. Her simple heart had spoken, and true to earthly habit, she now tried to cover up her tell-tale words; but he saw and understood, and as they stood there, his heart burned with a great joy.

"Good-bye," he said, as he took her hand, "may I come again soon?"

"Yes;" she answered. "I shall be pleased to see more of your beautiful flower garden."

This was the beginning of a courtship, not the less sweet because it had been postponed for so long; not the less real, from the fact that the man and the woman were spiritual beings. "Sin," said the apostle, "is without the body;" so love and affection are attributes of the spirit, whether that spirit is within or without a tabernacle of flesh. And this courtship did not differ to any great extent from all others which had taken place from the beginning of time. There were the same timid approaches and responses; the getting acquainted with each other, wherein each lover's eyes glorified every act in the other; the tremulous pressure of hands; the love-laden looks and words; the thrill of inexpressible joy when the two were together. Neither was this courtship exceptional. Among the vast multitude in the spirit world there are many who did not mate in the brief time allotted to them in the earth-life; therefore, congenial spirits are continually meeting and reading "life's meaning in each other's eyes."

Rachel, though she claimed to have no "story" to tell, interested David greatly in her account of how the Lord had chosen her as one of a family to become a savior on Mt. Zion. The work for the dead had not interested him. He, in connection with the youth of his time, had neglected that part of the gospel plan; and now, of course, he saw his mistake.

"Yes," David acknowledged to Rachel, "I see my error now, as usual, when it is too late to remedy it. You who were faithful rank above me here."

"Don't say that," she pleaded.

"But it is true. Your good deeds came before you here and gave you a standing. Some of the treasures you destined for heaven were detained here, and you are now reaping benefits from them. Do I not see it all the time? When we meet new people, you are received with delight—I am unknown."

"David, what comes to me, you partake of also, because—"

"Because you shall belong to me. Yes, dear one; that is the blessed truth. The Lord has brought us together, and all else should be forgotten in our gratitude to Him.... Rachel, we would have known each other in earth-life had I behaved myself. Our lives were surely trending toward each other, and our paths would have met. We would have loved and have wedded there, had it not been for my—"

"Say no more. Let us forget the past in thinking of and planning for the future. I am happy now, and so is your mother."

"And so am I."



IV.

"Whatsoever God doeth it shall be forever."—Eccl. 3:14.

David and Rachel were out walking when they saw another couple whose lovelike actions were noticeable. As they met, the couple stopped and the man said, "Pardon me, but we are somewhat strange in this new world. May we ask you some questions?"

"Let us sit down here together," suggested David, and he led the way to a place where they could sit quietly. "Are you in trouble?"

"Well, I hardly know," replied the man. "Anna and I are together, and perhaps we ought to be satisfied; but somehow we are not. There is something lacking."

"Yes?"

"You see, we left the earth-life, so suddenly—we were so poorly prepared for this." His companion clasped his arm as if to be protected from some impending danger. "We were boating on the lake, the boat overturned, and here we are.... We were to have been married the next day, but now—now what is our condition? We are not husband and wife; neither, I suppose, can we be, for we were taught back in that world from where we came, that there is no married condition here. Yet you two are husband and wife, are you not?"

"Not yet," replied David, "but we expect to be."

"I don't understand; you seem to know; teach us. May we be married here?"

David explained the principle of celestial marriage as it had been revealed to them in earth-life, and contrasted that doctrine with what was usually taught. "So you see," said he, "even if you had been married on that day appointed in mortality, it would have been only until death did you part. You have passed through death, and so, the contract between you would have come to an end, and you would not now be husband and wife."

"But you said that you two were to be married. How?"

"Had we been married in earth-life, it would have been for time and eternity, because it would have been performed by the authority of the Lord. What God does, is forever. Marriage must be solemnized on the earth. As our earth-days are past, we cannot go back, so the ceremony must be done for us by someone else living on the earth. Sister Rachel here, while in earth-life, did for thousands who had gone before what they could not do for themselves. Now, someone, in the Lord's own due time, will stand for her, and do for her what she did not do for herself."

The two new acquaintances listened attentively while David and sometimes Rachel instructed them on the principles of the gospel, and their application to those who were in the spirit world. They spoke to them of faith and repentance, principles which all men everywhere could receive and exercise. They explained the ordinance of baptism for the remission of sins, an earthly rite, which could be believed in and accepted by those in the spirit world, but would have to be performed for them vicariously by someone on earth. Marriage for eternity was also further explained.

"It is true," concluded David, "that in the resurrection there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. All that must be attended to before the resurrection, which for all of us—luckily—is yet in the future. We know for a surety that if we do our part the best we know, the Lord will take care of the rest."

These four people did not part until David and Rachel had promised to meet their friends again soon, and continue the talk which had so favorably begun. When the two had left, David turned to Rachel and said:

"Did you see the lovelight glowing in their eyes when their hearts were touched with the truth?"

"Yes, as it did in yours when you were speaking."

"And in yours, too, my dear, when it was your turn."

"It's good to be a missionary—always a missionary, isn't it, as long as there is one being in need of guidance and instruction."

"It is very good, indeed, David."

"Rachel, glad news for us. We, you and I, are soon to follow our parents and our older brothers and sisters, up through the gates of the resurrection, which our Lord so graciously opened.... Yes, yes, it is true.... Into the celestial kingdom, with bodies of celestial glory and go on to our exaltation.... And, dear, the work is being done for us in the Temple of our God.... Yes, right now, it is being done. Come, Rachel, let us go and be as near as we can.... Yes, we have permission.... This is the Temple. God's messengers are here, and His Spirit broods in and around the holy place. That Spirit we also in common with mortality, may feel. You, Rachel, ought to be at home here, more so than I. Let us follow the man and the woman who are doing the work for us.... Do you see them clearly, Rachel?... Yes; we shall not forget them when they, too, come to us in the spirit, but we shall give them a welcome such as they have never dreamed of.... Now they are by the altar. Kneel here by me, Rachel,—your hand in mine, like this. Listen, can you hear? 'For and in behalf of,'... you and me.... It is done. We are husband and wife. You are mine for eternity, mine, mine.... O, Eternal Father, we thank Thee!"

David holds the fair form of his wife in his arms. He kisses her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Then there is silence.



PART FOURTH.

Freedom waves her joyous pinions O'er a land, from sea to sea, Ransomed, righteous, and rejoicing In a world-wide jubilee.

O'er a people happy, holy, Gifted now with heavenly grace, Free from every sordid fetter That enslaved a fallen race.

Union, love, and fellow feeling Mark the sainted day of power; Rich and poor in all things equal, Righteousness their rock and tower.

Mountain peaks of pride are leveled, Lifted up the lowly plain, Crookedness made straight, while crudeness Now gives way to culture's reign.

Now no tyrant's sceptre saddens; Now no bigot's power can bind. Faith and work, alike unfettered, Win the goal by heaven designed.

God, not mammon, hath the worship Of His people, pure in heart: This is Zion—oh, ye nations, Choose with her "the better part!"

Crown and sceptre, sword and buckler— Baubles!—lay them at her feet. Strife no more shall vex creation; Christ's is now the kingly seat.

Cities, empires, kingdoms, powers, In one mighty realm divine. She, the least and last of nations, Henceforth as their head shall shine.

'Tis thy future glory, Zion, Glittering in celestial rays, As the ocean's sun-lit surging Rolls upon my raptured gaze!

All that ages past have promised, All that noblest minds have prized, All that holy lips have prayed for, Here at last is realized.

—Orson F. Whitney.



I.

"Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. * * * And the Gentiles shall come to thy light and kings to the brightness of thy rising."—Isaiah 60:1, 3.

The sun in its downward course had reached the hazy zone, which, bounded by the clear blue above and the horizon below, extended around the green earth; in the west, the round disk of the sun shone through it, and tinged the landscape with a beautiful, mellow light.

It was midsummer. The sun had been hot all the day, and when on that evening two men reined in the horses they were driving, and paused on the summit of a small hill, a cool breeze reached them, and they bared their heads to the refreshing air. Not a word was spoken as they gazed on the scene before them; its grandeur and beauty were too vast for words.

Before them, to the west, lay the city, the object of their long journey—before them, it lay as a queen in the midst of her surroundings. At first sight, it seemed one immense palace, rather than a city of palaces, as the second view indicated. Street after street, mansion after mansion, the city stretched away as far as the eye could reach, mingling with trees and gardens.

Rising from the center of the city was the temple. Its walls shone like polished marble, and its towers seemed to pierce the sky, as around about them a white cloud hung. This cloud extended from the temple as a center, over the whole city, and seemed as it were a covering.

The sun sank behind the horizon; still the cloud glowed with light, as if the sun's rays still lingered there.

For ten minutes the carriage had paused on the elevation, and the two men had gazed in silence. Then the driver, as if awakening from a dream, gave the horses the word to go, as he said:

"We must drive on."

"Yes; night is coming on."

The second speaker was a middle aged man of commanding bearing. He leaned back in the carriage as they sped onward.

"So this is the world renowned city," he said, "the new capital of the world to which we all must bow in submission; within whose borders sit judges and rulers the like of which for power and wisdom have never yet appeared. Truly, she is the rising light of the world. What say you, Remand?"

"'Tis indeed a wondrous sight, your majesty. The reality far exceeds any reports that have come to us."

"It is well, Remand, that we chose this slower mode of coming into the city. Electricity would have brought us here in a fraction of the time; but who would miss this beautiful drive?"

They were already within the outskirts of the city. Although all that day they had driven through a most beautiful region of cities and fields and gardens, the latter being gorgeous with flowers and fruit, yet the glory of this city far surpassed anything they had yet beheld. Over the smooth, paved roadway, their carriage glided noiselessly. The blooming flowers and trees shed sweet odors in the air. Buildings and gardens, arranged in perfect symmetry, delighted the eye. The song of birds and the hum of evening melodies charmed the ear. Men, women and children and vehicles of all kinds were continually passing.

The shades of night crept over the landscape; still the cloudy covering of the city glowed with brilliant light. The darker the night became, the brighter became the cloud, until the palace, built of marble and precious stone, appeared in its soft, clear light like the colors of the rainbow.

"Your majesty, must we not soon seek some place to rest for the night?"

"Yes, you are right. Do you think anyone will suspect our true character?"

"No one save ourselves, within thousands of miles, knows that you are the king of Poland."

"I do hope so, Remand, for I wish to see these things from the point of view of a commoner. See, there is the pillar of fire spoken about. Truly, my good friend, the glory of the Lord is risen upon this place."

Hardly were the words spoken before the carriage drew up to a gateway, or open arch, which spanned the road. A man appeared and inquired of the travelers where they were going. On being informed that they were strangers come to see the city, the man bade them wait a few minutes. Soon he returned.

"As you are strangers and wish to rest for the night, you will please alight and receive that which you need. Your horses will be taken care of. Come." They drove along a road leading to a large house. Grooms took charge of the horses, and they themselves were ushered into a room, which, for convenience and beauty of finish, was not surpassed even by the king of Poland's own palaces. Soon fruits and bread were placed before them, and they were shown couches where they would rest for the night.

Though weary with their day's journey, the travelers could not sleep. The strangeness of it all bewildered them, and they talked about it far into the night.

Next morning they were awakened by song birds that had taken position in a tree near their open window, and were now pouring forth a chorus of welcome. How beautiful was the morning! Earth and sky were full of the perfume of flowers and the song of birds. The cloud still hung over the city.

From the garden they were called into the dining room, where a meal was spread before them. Fruits and fruit preparations of a dozen kinds; breads, cakes and vegetables, drinks from the juice of fruits: this was the bill of fare.

After they had eaten, the person who had met them the evening before, entered, and announced that their carriage was ready for their drive; or, if they chose to take the cars, they would get within the city much quicker, but, of course, would miss some interesting sights.

"We prefer to see all," replied the king.

"Then come with me."

The king and Remand followed into another room where they met a young man who was to be their escort. The first now retired, and the young man advanced and shook their hands.

"Be seated for a moment," said he. "My name is Paulus. I am to conduct you into the city, and be your guide for the day. Such is the rule here." The speaker also took a seat by the table. The king and his companion sat opposite.

"In this city," continued Paulus, "there can be no hypocrisy, no deceit of any kind. I am instructed, therefore, to tell you that your true name, character, and mission is known. You are the king of Poland, and you his counselor and friend."

The king started, changed color, and looked towards Remand.

"How—how is that?" he stammered.

Paulus smiled. "Do not be alarmed, my dear sir. You were known before you entered the first gate yesterday. These people have entertained you with a full knowledge of what you are; nevertheless, the treatment you have received has been in no wise different from that which is given to every honest man who comes to this city for righteous purposes, no matter be he high or low, rich or poor, in the estimation of the world. You see, true worth and righteousness are the only standards of judgment here. Again, you are safer here than in the house of your best friend in Poland, or surrounded by your old-time host of armed warriors; for violence is no more heard in this land, neither wasting nor destruction within our borders. Our walls are Salvation; our gates, praise; and the inhabitants of this city are all righteous. It is their inheritance forever, for they are a branch of the Lord's planting, the work of His hands, wherein He is glorified."

Neither of the strangers spoke. The words seemed to thrill them into silence.

"Come, then, let us be going."

The carriage was awaiting; but it was not the travelers' own.

"No," was Paulus' answer to their inquiry, "your horses will rest. This is our equipage."

They drove into the city.

"'Walk about Zion, and go round about her; tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, consider her palaces, that ye may tell it to the generations following,'" said Paulus.

"You quote from the writings of the ancient Hebrews," said Remand.

"Yes; these 'holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost,'" was the answer.

An hour's drive through indescribable grandeur brought them to a gate in the wall which surrounded the temple, where they alighted. An attendant took charge of the horses. Paulus led the way. A word to the keeper of the gate, and they were permitted to pass. Surrounding the central building, was a large open space laid out in walks, grass plats, ornamental trees, and flowers. People were walking about. Guides and instructors were busy with strangers, who seemed to have come from all nations, by the varied manner of dress displayed, and the different languages spoken.

"This," said Paulus, "is the sanctuary of freedom, the place of the great King. From this center go the righteous laws that govern nations and peoples. It is not time yet to proceed further, so we will walk about the gardens."

"Is the great King here today?" asked Poland's ruler.

"I do not know; but the council will sit and transact all needed business. And now I will tell you another thing: All whom you have met or seen have appeared to you as mortal beings, as you or I; but in reality, in our drive through the city, you have seen many immortal, that is, resurrected, men and women; for you must remember that now the righteous live to the age of a tree, and when they die, they do not sleep in the dust, but are changed in the twinkling of an eye. These visit with us, abide with us for a time to instruct us. Because you are a ruler among the nations, you will be permitted to see the assembling of the council, and receive instruction from it. The time is drawing nigh. Let us be going."

Great crowds of white-robed men were flocking into the temple. The three followed. The king and Remand gazed in wonder at those who had been pointed out as being resurrected beings, and their wonder increased when they could see no marked difference between them and the rest of mankind, save perhaps in the calm, sweet expression of the face, and the light which appeared to beam from the countenances of the immortals. They certainly were not unreal, shadowy beings.

Entering a wide hallway, they soon arrived at the council chamber. Its glory dazzled the beholders. In the midst of this room was a vast throne as white as ivory, and ascended by seventy steps. On each side of the throne were tiers of seats, rising one above the other. The seats were rapidly being filled, but the throne remained vacant.

"The King is not here today," whispered Paulus.

Then a soft, sweet strain of music was heard. It increased in volume until a thousand instruments seemed to blend into one melody. Suddenly, the vast assembly arose as one man and joined in a song of joy and thanksgiving.

"Guide—dear friend," whispered the king of Poland, "I am overcome, I cannot remain."

"I feel faint," said Remand, "I fear I shall perish."

"Come, then, we had better go," answered Paulus. "This is all we shall see at present. We shall now go into another room and wait the council's adjournment; then you will have an interview with one delegated to talk with you."

From the hallway they entered a smaller room, decorated with beautiful pictures and adorned with statuary. Books, newspapers and magazines were at hand, and when the visitors were tired of gazing, they sat down by a table.

They had not long to wait before word came that the king and his friends should enter another room close by. Paulus would wait for their return. The two found a venerable looking man awaiting them, who, upon their entrance, arose and said:

"Welcome, welcome, to the Lord's house. I may not call you king of Poland—there is but one King on this earth—but I will call you servants of the King, as we all are. Be seated.

"I am instructed to tell you that, as a whole, the King is pleased with the manner you are conducting your stewardship. The Spirit of our Lord moved upon you to take this journey to his capital, and you chose to come as you did. That is well enough. Tyrants do not enter this city, and your presence here is assurance to you that you are justified.

"It is well that you have disbanded your armies, and that your instruments of war have been made into plows and pruning hooks. Remember the law that the nation and kingdom that will not serve the Lord shall perish. The King grants to all His subjects their free agency in the matter of religion, forcing no one to obey the gospel law; still He is the King of the earth; it is His, and He made it, and has redeemed it; and He now wills that all nations shall come under one government organized by Him in righteousness. For a thousand years the earth must rest in peace; then comes the great and dreadful day of the Lord.

"And now, another thing. There have been some complaints from your country that the servants of the Lord who have been sent to preach the gospel to your people, have not had that perfect freedom which is desired. Please see to it that they are not molested while peaceably promulgating religious doctrines."

"I shall see to it," answered the king of Poland.

For some time they counseled together; then the two withdrew, and joined Paulus, who conducted them out into the city.



II.

"The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; * * * and a little child shall lead them. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."—Isaiah 11:6-9.

The next day Paulus with his two visitors walked about the city. He described and explained the many deeply interesting scenes, and answered the numerous questions directed to him. The foreigners did not fail to note the wonderful advances made in the arts and sciences and their practical application to everyday affairs. They had thought their own country not behind in improvements, but here their own were far surpassed.

"We will ride out on the ether-line to one of our schools," remarked Paulus. "You will be pleased with the children."

"This is an improvement on electricity," said their director, as seated in an elegant car, they were carried through the city without noise or jostle. "This line is rather crude yet. I was reading in the newspaper the other day that some very important improvements were shortly to be made. You have noticed, ere this, our method of heating and lighting. Don't you think it is an advancement on the old way?"

"It certainly is, though we use some steam and considerable electricity yet in our country."

"I suppose so—but here we are."

Although nothing in the city was cramped or crowded for room, the place where they now alighted was planned on an unusually large scale. Immense buildings stood upon a large tract of land, planted with trees, grass, and flowers. Here were breathing room and playground. A number of streams of clear water flowed through the grounds, and small ponds were alive with fish and swimming birds. Fountains played, and statues of marble gleamed through the foliage.

"See, what is that?" exclaimed Remand, as he caught sight of a huge, shaggy beast lying under a tree.

"Just a brown bear," said Paulus. "We have some lions and few of the rarest animals on these grounds—but I am forgetting that these scenes must be strange to you. In Poland you have not wholly shaken off the old world and its way. It takes time of course."

"Well," replied Remand, "although the enmity between man and beast is nearly gone, we have not yet adopted bears and lions as pets for our children to play with."

"Well, we have, you perceive."

A bevy of children came dancing through the grounds. Beautiful children they were, full of life and gladness. They caught sight of bruin, stretched under the tree, and with a shout they stormed him. The animal saw them coming, and extending himself at full length on the ground, seemed to enjoy the children's tumbling over his shaggy sides. When they patted him on the head and stroked his nose, he licked their hands.

"We haven't reached quite that far," remarked the king.

"Neither do we behold such sights," added his companion, as he pointed to a tiger crouching on the grass, and gazing with no evil intention at a lamb quietly feeding by.

"You will in time," said Paulus. "The earth is being filled with the knowledge of God. Hate, envy, and destruction are fast disappearing, and you see the natural results: the wolf lying down with the lamb, and children playing with once savage beasts. In this way, Satan is being bound, and the whole earth will soon be released from his power."

They came to another group of children, gathered on the shore of a small lake, who were eagerly listening to a man in their midst.

"We will hear what the lesson is today," said Paulus, and they went up to the group. The instructor was holding up a flower which he had plucked from the margin of the water, and was illustrating some peculiarity of vegetable formation to the class.

"It is botany today," said Paulus. "I hoped that it would be his favorite theme."

"And what is that?"

"The improvements on these grounds are the work of his planning and supervision, and he delights to give lessons on earth and water formations. He often sets a class to digging trenches and waterways. He says that he learned all about such things when he went to school, meaning when he was on the earth before."

"Is he a resurrected being?" asked Remand in a low voice.

"He is," was the reply. "Many of our instructors are. You will understand without argument the advantages they have over others."

"Certainly, certainly."

"I see he is through with the recitation. Let us speak to him."

As they came up, the children recognized them with a smile and a salute, and the instructor said:

"Welcome, brothers, welcome, Brother Paulus."

"You are dismissed. Go to your next lesson," he said to the children, and they quietly walked away.

"Now," said he, "I have some leisure. Will you all come with me into the reading room? I have something to show you, Paulus, and it may interest our visitors."

"Need we no introduction?" asked the king, as they followed into a large building.

"Not at all. He knows who you are."

The reading room was a compartment beautifully adorned and furnished. It was filled with tables, chairs, bookracks, etc. Hundreds of children were there reading. Perfect order reigned, though no overseers or watchers were seen. The three followed the instructor into a smaller room, seemingly arranged for private use. Chairs were placed, and then he opened a newspaper which he spread on the table.

"Have you seen the last edition of today's paper?"

None of them had.

"Well, I found something here of more than usual interest. It seems that some workmen, excavating for a building, came across the ruins of a nineteenth century city. In a cavity in a stone they found some coins of that period, also a number of newspapers. It was a common practice in those days to imbed such things in the corner stones of buildings. Extracts from those papers are reproduced here, and they are of interest to the children of today in showing the condition of the world when under the influence of that fallen spirit who rebelled against God in the beginning. Let me read you a few extracts, principally headings only."

"'Yesterday this city was visited by a most destructive fire. One-half of the business part was swept away. Thousands of dollars of property were lost, and it is supposed that about fifty persons have perished in the flames.'

"'The great strike. Thousands of workmen out of employment. Children crying for bread. Mobs march through the streets, defying the police, and demolishing property. The governor calls out the state militia.'

"Here is another:

"'War! War! England, Germany, France, Russia and the United States are preparing!'

"Yes, you have read your histories. You know all about that. What do you think of this?"

"'Millions of the people's money have been expended by those in office to purchase votes. A set of corrupt political bosses rule the nation.'

"Still another:

"'A gang of tramps capture a train—'"

The reader did not finish, but laid the paper down and looked out of the open door. He did not speak for some time; then turning, said:

"Brothers, thank God that you live in the Millennium of the world. My heart grows sick when my mind reverts back to the scenes of long ago. I passed through some of them. I learned my lessons in a hard school; but God has been good to me. He has known me all along, and has given me just what I needed. Shall we visit the buildings? Shall we see the children who grow up without sin unto salvation? Come with me."

From room to room, from building to building, they went. Children, children, everywhere—bright, beautiful children. Oh, it was a grand sight! Hark! They sing—a thousand voices; and such music!

"Are there special visitors today?" asked Paulus.

"Yes; come let us go outside and see them."

They stepped out on to a portico where they could see the throng of children standing on a large lawn outside. They were singing a song of welcome, and through the trees could be seen three men approaching. The children made way for them, and they walked through towards the building.

"Look well at them as they pass," said the instructor; "you may recognize them."

They walked with the sprightliness of youth though their hair was white as snow. They smiled at the children as they passed.

"Two of the faces are familiar," remarked Remand, "but the third is strange. Surely, surely—"

"Surely you did not expect to see George Washington and Martin Luther in the flesh, walking and talking as other men?"

"Never."

"It is they."

"And the third?"

"The third is Socrates of old."

"What is their mission?"

"They are about to speak to the children. They have been at the school of the prophets all morning, and now they come from the high school yonder. You see what advantages today's students of history have."

"Has the knowledge of God exalted men to the society of resurrected beings?"

"Your senses do not deceive you," was the reply.

"Now I must go," said the instructor. "Farewell, and peace be with you."

He went into the house again, the three following directly, but they saw nothing more of him.



III.

"Every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills * * * for the world is mine, and the fulness thereof."—Psalms 50:10, 12.

The King of Poland and his counselor lodged that night in the city. Early next morning, Paulus came again for them.

"What do you wish to see, today?" he asked.

"Take us to some or your workshops and mills," replied the King; "we would like to learn more of your social and industrial conditions, about which we have heard."

A car soon took them to a part of the city where the workshops were situated. The buildings were not great, black-looking structures with rows of small windows in the walls; but they were handsome, spacious buildings, resembling somewhat the finest of the public buildings with which the visitors were acquainted in their own country. Remand noted the absence of smoking chimneys, and inquired about them.

"We have done away with all that," explained Paulus. "Pure air is one of the essentials to life. One of the crudest imperfections of the past was the wilderness of smoking chimneys which belched forth their blackness and poison into the atmosphere. As you have noticed, our city is clean, and the air above us is as clear as that above forests or fields."

"I suppose you use electricity for light and power," remarked Remand; "but you need heat, too."

"We use electricity for heat also," was explained. "We get it direct from the earth, also have it generated by water power, both from falls and the waves of the sea, and transmitted to us. Some of these power stations are hundreds of miles away among the mountains, and by the sea. We have also learned to collect and conserve heat from the sun; so, you see, we are well supplied for all purposes. This building," said the instructor, pointing to the one in front of which they had stopped, "is a furniture factory. Would you like to see it in working operation?"

"Yes; very much," said the King.

They entered clean, well-lighted, airy rooms where beautiful machinery was being operated by well-dressed and happy-looking workmen. The visitors passed from section to section, noting, admiring, and asking questions.

"Whose factory is this?" asked Remand of the guide.

"You mean who has charge—who is the steward?" corrected Paulus.

"No; not exactly that. This magnificent plant must have an owner, either an individual or a corporation. I asked for the ownership of the property."

The guide looked strangely at his companions. Then he realized that these men had come from the parts of the earth where the celestial order had not yet been established. The old ideas of private property rights were still with them.

"My friends," he said, "The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof. He is the only proprietor. How can weak, mortal man own any part of this earth! No, ownership is for a future time, a future state. Now we are only stewards over the Lord's possession."

"But someone must have charge here," said the king.

"Certainly. A master mechanic is steward over this factory, and he renders an account of all its doings to the Bishop, who is the Lord's representative. In this building, as you have seen, are many departments, and these are also stewardships, given to those in whose charge they are. Likewise, each workman has a stewardship for which he is responsible and accountable to the Lord."

They came to the wood-carving department where beautiful designs were being drawn and executed.

"Each man, as far as possible, does the kind of work best suited to his tastes and abilities. Here, for instance, those who are skilled carvers of wood find employment for their talent, and they turn out some fine articles of furniture. Of course, we have machines that stamp and carve wood; but the pleasure derived from the use of the skilled hand is not to be denied the well-trained mechanic and artist."

"I don't quite understand what you mean by stewardships," said Remand as they passed into a rest room.

"Let us sit down here," replied Paulus, "and I shall try to explain further. You must know that all this order, beauty, peace, and plenty has been attained by an observance of celestial law. And the celestial law as pertaining to temporal things is that no man shall have more than is required for his and his family's support. In this respect all men are equal according to their needs. In olden times, this law was called the order of Enoch, because we are informed that Enoch and his city attained to a high degree of righteousness through its observance. Later it was called the United Order. It has been revealed to and tried by men in various periods of the earth's history, but never has it had such a chance to redeem the world as it is having now. According to this law, no man can accumulate unto himself the wealth created by the work of others, as was the case in former times with us, and still prevails to some extent among other nations. All surplus which a worker accumulates beyond his needs is turned into the general storehouse of the Lord. Thus each man becomes equal in temporal things as well as in spiritual things. There is no rich or poor: each man obtains what he requires, and no more."

"What is the extent of this surplus?" asked the King. "Is it large?"

"Yes; because of the nearly perfect condition of our industrial system, a great amount of wealth flows into the general storehouse. You will understand, of course, that all public institutions receive their support from this fund, so that the old order of taxes is done away with. You have noticed our beautiful city. You have not seen palaces of the rich and hovels of the poor, but you have seen magnificent public buildings, parks, and thoroughfares. These institutions that are for all alike have been built and are sustained by the surplus; and this city does not represent all of what the people of the Lord are doing. The Lord's work is being extended throughout this land and to lands beyond the sea. Not the least of our duties is the building of temples and the performing of the work for our dead in them. So you see, we have need of much wealth to carry on our work."

"Yes; I understand," remarked Remand; "but in our country and time, as indeed, it has been in the past, many have tried plans of equality, but they have been more or less failures. Why have you succeeded so well?"

"The chief cause for the past failures of the world in this industrial order lies in the supposition that unregenerated men, who have not obeyed the gospel of Jesus Christ, and who are, therefore, full of weaknesses and sins incident to human nature without the power to overcome them—I say the mistake lies in the supposition that such men can come together and establish a celestial order of things, an order wherein the heart must be purged from every selfish thought and desire. No wonder that a building erected on such a poor foundation could not stand. We have succeeded because we have begun right. We have had faith in the Lord and His providences, have repented of our sins, have been born again of water and of the Spirit, and then we have tried to live by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. We have done this pretty well, or we could never have succeeded in this work of equality that you see and admire. People who do the things that you observe around you must have the Spirit of God in their hearts. This celestial order is God's order, and those who partake of its blessings must be in harmony with God's mind and will. High law cannot be obeyed and lived by inferior beings who are not willing to submit to the first principles of salvation and power."

The three sat in quiet contemplation for a time. Then the King said: "Tell us about the wages of these workmen. The proper adjustment of wages has always been a source of much trouble with us."

"Yes, in the days when every man had to look out for himself and had no thought for his neighbor, it was a continual struggle to get as much as possible for one's work and to give as little as possible for the work of another. Such conditions were natural under a system of greed and selfishness, and they brought on much contention and trouble, which, happily are now ended. In the beginning," explained the speaker, "those who enter this order of equality are required to consecrate all their property to the Lord. Then each is given a stewardship according to his needs and his ability to manage and to work. Children have a claim upon their parents for support until they are of age, when they also are given a stewardship."

"Are the wages equal to all?"

"No; and for the very good reason that the needs of all are not alike. According to the old order, the superintendent of these works, for instance, would draw a salary of perhaps $5000.00 a year, while the men who do the manual labor would get less than a tenth of that sum."

"True," remarked Remand, "supply and demand regulates these things. Superintendents are scarce, but common workmen are plentiful."

"But, my dear friend, we have no common workmen. It is just as important that a table should be put together properly, and that it be well finished as that there should be a superintendent of the works. No man in our industrial system can say to another, 'I have no need of thee.' Each is important, each has his place, each supports the other. The polisher or the sawyer, therefore, should have his needs supplied, and so should the overseer—but no more. What would he do with more, anyway? Tell me."

"Why, why," replied Remand, "He could save it, put it in the bank, invest it."

Paulus smiled. "What good would hoarded wealth be to a man whose needs are all provided for as long as he lives, as also his children after him. We have but one bank here—the Lord's storehouse, and all profits derived from investments are there deposited. But speaking again of wages, I happen to know that the superintendent of this factory is a man with a wife only to support, and they are very simple in their tastes. The wood-carver whom we spoke of has a large family of children. His needs are greater than the superintendent's, therefore he receives more for his portion. That is just, is it not?"

"Yes," replied Remand, "the theory seems to be all right but its application, among us at least, would bring endless complications to be adjusted."

"Perhaps so," replied Paulus. "We are not perfect, even here. While we are in mortality, we have weaknesses to contend with; but you must remember that we look on every man as a brother and a friend, and as I have stated, we have the spirit of the Master to help us. When this help proves insufficient by reason of our own failure to do the right, and in our weakness we are unjust or overbearing, or oppressive, then there is the Lord Himself whose throne is with us. He balances again the scales of justice, and metes out to every man his just deserts."

Paulus arose, and the others followed him reverently out into the park-like space surrounding the factory. They walked slowly along the paths as they talked.

"The argument usually urged against all orders of equality," remarked Remand, "is that it takes away man's incentive to work."

"Have you seen any idle men in or about Zion?" asked the guide.

They acknowledged that they had not.

"The new order has not taken away incentives to work; it has simply changed the incentive from a low order to a higher. We can not afford to work for money as an end. Wealth, with us, is simply a means to an end, and that is the bringing to pass of saving righteousness to the race, individually and collectively. Wealth is not created to be used for personal aggrandizement; and, in fact, its power to work mischief is taken away when all men have what they need of it. The attainment of worldly wealth was at one time the standard of success. It was, indeed, a low standard."

"What is your standard?" asked the king.

"Among us the greatest of all is the servant of all. He who does his best along the line of his work, and contributes the results of his efforts to the general good, is successful. Quantity is not always the test, for the gardener who supplies us with the choicest vegetables is counted just as successful as he who digs from the mountain his thousands in gold.... Who, in your country, is counted the greatest success in history?"

Neither Remand nor the King replied to this query.

"I will not confuse you by urging a reply," said Paulus. "You, of course, understand our view of that matter. He who did the greatest good to the greatest number made the greatest success. That was the Lord and Master. 'If I be lifted up, I shall draw all men to me,' he said; and that is being fulfilled. In like manner the greatest among us is he who serves us best."

They seated themselves on a bench and watched the workers flock from the workshop homeward to their mid-day meal. It was an interesting sight to the two visitors. The people appeared so happy and contented that the king noticed it and commented on it.

"Yes," replied Paulus; "why should they not be happy? When I think of the times in the past—how so many of the human race had to struggle desperately merely to live; how men, women and children often had to beg for work by which to obtain the means of existence; how sometimes everything that was good and pure and priceless was sold for bread; while on the other hand many others of the race lolled in ease and luxury, being surfeited with the good things of the world—I say, when I think of this, I can not praise the Lord too much for what He now has given to us."

"What are these men's working hours?" asked Remand.

"The hours vary according to the arduousness of the work, though it is now much more easy and pleasant, owing to our labor-saving machinery. From three to four hours usually constitute a day's work. Some prefer to put in their allotted time every day, and then spend the remainder in other pursuits. Others work all day, perhaps for a week, which would give them a week to do other things. Others, again, who wish more leisure for their self-appointed tasks, keep steadily on for a year, thus earning a year for themselves."

"And what is done with this leisure?" asked the king.

"Most of it is devoted to working in the temples of the Lord, where the saving ordinances of the gospel are performed for those who had not the privilege to do them for themselves in this life; but many other things are done. For instance, he who thinks he is an inventor, devotes his time to perfecting his invention; those who wish to pursue a certain line of study, now have time to do so; some spend time in traveling."

"Is there no competition among you?" said Remand. "Such a condition, it seems to me, would bring stagnation."

"We have the keenest kind of competition," was the reply—"a competition of the highest order that brings the most joyous life-activity into our work. Each steward competes with every other steward to see who can improve his stewardship the most and bring the best results to the general storehouse. For example, you noticed as you came into the city the beautifully kept gardens and farms lying for miles out into the country. These are all stewardships, and there is the keenest competition among the farmers and gardeners to see who can make the land produce—first the best crops, and then the most of that best. One man last year who has a small farm turned into the storehouse as his surplus one thousand bushels of wheat. It was a remarkable record which this year many others are trying to equal or exceed. This sort of rivalry is found among all the various businesses and industries in Zion and her stakes; so you see, that even what you term the wealth producing incentive is not lost to us, but is used as an end to a mighty good, and not to foster personal greed."

* * * * *

The three strolled farther away from the large factory building, out into a section where residences stood here and there among the trees in the park-like grounds. Approaching a beautiful sheet of water bordered by flowering bushes, lawns, and well-kept walks, they saw a man sitting on a bench by the lake. As his occupation seemed to be throwing bread crumbs to the swans in the water, the King and his companion concluded that here, at last, they had discovered one of the idle rich, whom they still had in their own country. Remand expressed his thought to the guide.

"He idle?" was the reply. "Oh, no; he is one of our hardest working men. That is one of our most popular writers, and in many people's opinion, our best. We must not disturb him now, but we will sit down here and observe him. We are told that when he is planning one of his famous chapters of a story, he comes down to this lake and feeds the swans."

"And do you still write, print, and read stories?" asked Remand.

"Certainly. Imaginative literature is one of the highest forms of art. This man has most beautifully pictured the trend of the race, his special themes being the future greatness and glory of Zion. Why should he not paint pictures by words, as well as the artist who does the same by colors and the sculptor by form? If you have not read any of his books, you must take some of them home with you. See, he is moving away. Would you like to meet him?"

They said they would. The author was soon overtaken, and he received his visitors graciously.

"Yes," he laughingly acknowledged to Paulus, "you caught me fairly. I was planning a most interesting scene of the book on which I am now engaged, and the swans are a great help."

He led his visitors into the grounds surrounding his home, and then into his house. He showed them his books, his studio, and his collection of art treasures. From an upstairs balcony he pointed out his favorite bit of landscape, a mixture of hill and dale, shining water, and purple haze in the distance.

"Yes," he said, in answer to an inquiry, "I have read how, in former times, the workers in art, and especially the writer were seriously handicapped. The struggle for bread often sapped the strength which ought to have gone into the producing of a picture, a piece of statuary, or a book. Fear of some day wanting the necessities of life drove men to think of nothing else but the making of money; and when sometimes men and women were driven by the strong impulse of expression to neglect somewhat the 'Making a living,' they nearly starved. How could the best work be produced under such conditions? I marvel at what was done, nevertheless."

After spending a pleasant and profitable hour with the writer, the three visitors went on their way. They partook of some lunch at one of the public eating houses, then they went out farther into the country to look at the farms and gardens. Lines of easy and rapid transit extended in every direction, so that it took but a few minutes for Paulus and his friends to arrive at the place they desired. They alighted at an orchard, looked at the growing fruit and listened to the orchardist's explanations. After they had been left to themselves, Paulus continued:

"I want you to see and taste a certain kind of apple that this man has produced. Apples are his specialty." He led the way to another part of the orchard, and found a number of ripening apples which he gave his friends. "What do you think of them?" he asked.

"Most delicious!" they both exclaimed. "This might be the identical fruit that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden," remarked Remand.

As they walked amid the trees, the conversation reverted again to the writer of books whom they had just left.

"This author's royalties must be very great—" began the King's counselor, and then checked himself when he remembered the conditions about him.

"Royalties?" replied Paulus; "yes, they are great; but they are not in money or material wealth. They consist in the vast amount of help, encouragement, hope, and true happiness he brings to his readers."

"But do not men like treasure for treasure's sake? Have your very natures changed?" asked the King.

"To some extent our natures have changed, but not altogether in this. Men and women still like to lay up treasures. It is an inevitable law that when men do some good to others, credit is given them for that good in the Book of Life. This wealth of good deeds may accumulate until one may become a veritable millionaire; and this treasure can never be put to an unrighteous use; moth can not corrupt it, nor thieves break through and steal."

"One more question," asked Remand. "I observed that your novelist had a beautiful house, many rare books, and some priceless paintings and pieces of sculptured marble. Are these among the 'needs' that you have spoken of so many times?"

"To him, certainly. Each man gets that which will aid him most in his particular line of work. Those things are not needless luxuries or extravagances. The writer is surrounded by beautiful things that he may be influenced by them to produce the most beautiful literature, just the same as any other laborer is provided with the best tools, helps, and environments that he may produce the best work."

From the orchard they went to the gardens and other workshops, closing the day with a visit to one of the large mercantile establishments of the city.

The next morning Paulus was on hand again to be their guide, but the King said:

"We must now return home. Much as we would like to remain—to take up our permanent abode here, I see that my duty calls me home. The Great King has something for me to do, and I shall try to do it. Let us be going."

Then the two visitors thanked their guide most graciously as he set them on their homeward way.



IV.

"In my Father's house are many mansions. * * * I go to prepare a place for you."—John 14:2.

Two men were walking in the grounds surrounding a stately residence on the outskirts of the city.

"I told you some time ago of the king of Poland's visit," said the one who had been instructor at the school. "Did you see that item in the paper this morning?"

"Yes," replied the other. "The visit must have made a great impression on him, judging by what he is doing."

"He was much interested. He is a good man, and is carrying out the instructions which he received while here. You have not been here before?"

"No; this is my first visit."

"This house is being built for a descendant of mine who is yet in mortality. I visit with him frequently, and he has asked me for suggestions as to its construction. I have had much pleasure in giving them. Soon he is to bring a wife into his new home, a dear good girl whom I am pleased to welcome in this way into our family. The workmen have nearly finished their labors and I am devoting some time to the preparation of the grounds. Will you have time to look around with me?"

"I have time today, brother."

They walked towards the house. It stood on the slope of a gentle elevation which furnished a view of the country westward.

"Here you see what I am doing. I am departing somewhat from the usual form of lawn plans, but I want this place to have a special feature. You see, I have led this stream of water around the hill-side and made it fall over this small precipice into this tiny lake. What do you think of it?"

"It is beautiful and unique."

"You see, brother, I have a liking for streams of water. They always please my eye, and their babble and roar is music to my ears. And then, someone else will soon be visiting with me here. I call this my temporary Earth-home; and brother, nothing can be too beautiful for my wife."

His companion looked at him and smiled. The speaker smiled in return. They understood each other.

"Yes, she is coming soon—at any time, now."

They walked into the house and inspected the building. It was no exception to the other houses in the city, as beautiful as gold, silver, precious stones, fine woods, silks, and other fabrics could make it. Most of the rooms were furnished, as if in readiness for occupancy.

"I delight in statuary," was explained to the visitor, "and my wife delights in paintings. You see, I have catered to both our tastes, and especially hers. Those panels are the work of the famous Rene, and this ceiling was painted by the best artist in the city. Here, what do you think of this?"

They paused before a large painting hung in the best light. It showed traces of age, but the colors indicated the hand of a master. It represented a scene where grandeur and beauty mingle; in the distance, blue hills; nearer, they became darker and pine clad; in the foreground loomed a rocky ledge; encircled by the hills, lay a lake, around whose shores were farms and farm houses with red roofs; and in the foreground of the lake was an island.

"A fine picture," said the visitor, "and an old one."

"It is a scene in old-time Norway, by one of Europe's best painters. Here is another. This is new, hardly dry, in fact. You observe that there are no pines on those hills. The farm house and the orchard in the foreground are as natural as life. She will recognize them at once."

They passed out.

"I have not had time to collect much in the way of statuary. I work a little at that art myself. Here is an unfinished piece, a model for a fountain."

They sat on a bench within sight of the falling water.

"Tell me about your family."

"I have a wife and four children yet in the spirit world. It is not long as we count time since I left them, and they are soon to follow; but I am impatient, I think. Oh, but she is a good woman, brother, good and true and beautiful; and my children are noble ones—two boys and two girls—even if one has been wayward. He will come back in time. Yes, my wife first taught me the knowledge of God, in the second estate, and opened to me the beauties of our Fathers' great plan. I had fallen low, and was in danger of going lower, when she came—God sent her—and with her pure, strong hand drew me up from the mire, God bless her." And the speaker smiled at the splashing waters.

"Then in earth-life I left them so suddenly, and she struggled bravely on to the end. It was all for the best—we know that now. I had a work to do in the spirit world, and God called me to it. I did it, and was accepted of the Master. We all met in the spirit world, and there continued our labors of love for the glory of God and the salvation of His children. Then my time came to pass through the resurrection, and here I am.—Hark, what is that? Someone is calling."

They listened. From the house came a voice, a low, sweet voice, calling.

"Brother, I must go," said he who had been talking. "Someone calls my name."

He disappeared hurriedly within the door-way; and the visitor went on his way.



V.

"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there by any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

"He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God and he shall be my son."—Rev. 21:4-7.

A sound, a whispered word echoes through the air and enters the ear. It touches the chords and finds them tuned to its own harmony. It plays tenderly on responsive strings, and what an awakening is within that soul! What rapture in the blending, what delight in the union! From it is born a joy of the heavenly world.

A sight, a glimpse of a form—a certain form or face; the rays of light entering the eye meet with something keenly sympathetic, and the soul leaps in ecstasy.

A touch, a gentle pressure of the hand; the union is complete.

What was that voice that reached him—a voice love-laden, full to over-flowing from the regions of the past? Ah, what sweetness courses through his veins, what joy leaps in his heart!

Within, he sees her. She stands in the middle of the room, with her eyes upon the open door. She does not move. Her beautiful robe of shining white clings about her form or falls in graceful folds to the floor. Her hair, light as of old, now glistens like silken threads. Her face shines with the indescribable glow of immortality.

She sees her husband. She raises her arms, and takes a step forward. She smiles—such a smile!

"Homan—Rupert."

"Delsa—Signe."

He takes her in his arms. He kisses her and holds her to his breast....

Presently strains of music came from another room. He listened as if surprised, but she looked up into her husband's eyes and smiled. The music ceased and a little girl appeared in the doorway.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Alice, my darling."

She runs towards them.

"Papa, papa, oh, how glad I am!"

He lifted her up and she threw her arms about his neck and kissed him again and again.

"What a beautiful place this is!" she said. "O, mamma, I am very happy!"

"Yes, Alice, we are all happy—happy beyond expression. We now can partly understand that glorious truth taught us, that 'spirit and element, inseparably connected, receiveth a fulness of joy.'"

* * * * *

Alice was playing with the fishes and the swans in the garden, and the husband and wife were sitting by an open window, gazing out upon the city.

"Brother Volmer has not been to see us yet," said he. "You remember he was our brother Sardus?"

"I remember him well," she answered.

"His musical talent is now of great blessing to himself and to the cause of God, as he is a musical director in the Temple. He understands now why he lost his hearing while in mortality, and he praises God for his then seeming misfortune."

"Husband," said she, "I am thinking again about our children. How long will it be before we shall receive them all?"

"Not long now; but each in his order. Leave that to the Lord."

They looked out at Alice. The swans were eating from her hand, and she was stroking their curved necks.

"To look back," said he, "and see the wonderful ways through which the Lord has brought us to this perfection, fills my heart with praise to Him. Now we are beyond the power of death and the evil one. Now the pure, life-giving spirit of God flows in our veins instead of the blood of mortality. Now we can know the two sides of things. We understand the good, because we have been in contact with the evil. Our joy is perfect, because we have experienced pain and sorrow. We know what life is, eternal life, because we have passed through the ordeal of death."

"Yes, Father teaches a good school."

"And we have learned this truth," said she, "that existence itself is a continuous penalty or reward. The children of God reap as they sow from eternity to eternity."

"Yes; then dwell on this thought for a moment: Our lives have just begun, as it were. We have eternity before us, and we are only now equipped to meet it."

"I am lost in the thought. But tell me about this thousand years of earthly peace and the last great change. Husband, I am a pupil now, and you the teacher."

"There is much to tell in contemplating not only the realities but the possibilities of the future. This earth has for some time been enjoying its Sabbath of peace and rest. He who rebelled in the beginning and fought against God is bound, and Christ is sole King of the earth. His laws go to the ends thereof, and all nations must obey them. The Saints are building holy places, and working for the living and the dead. No graves are now made, as the bodies of the Saints do not sleep in the dust. Thus it will go on until the thousand years are ended. Then Satan will be loosed for a little season; but his time will be short. Then comes the last great scene. The Lord will finish His work. In the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory, He will be seen with all His angels. The mortal Saints yet on the earth will be instantly changed and caught up to meet Him. The holy cities will be lifted up. Then the elements will melt with fervent heat. The earth will die as all things must, and be resurrected in perfection and glory, to be a fit abode, eternally, for celestial beings. All things will become new; all things will become celestial, and the earth will take its place among the self-shining stars of heaven. Then shall we receive our eternal inheritance, with our children and our families. Then shall we be in possession of that better and more enduring substance spoken of by the prophets. All things shall be ours, 'whether life or death, or things present, or things to come;' all are ours, and we are Christ's and Christ is God's."