"although he didn't seem sure about that 'Yes.'

"Look 'ere," said the other, with a sudden inspiration, "there's no good o' this 'Yes' and 'No' guessing game; Wally and me was both in the flagwagging class, and we knows enough to there you are." He broke off in triumph and nodded to Wally's flickering eyelids, that danced rapidly in the long and short of the Morse code.

"Y-e-s. Ac-ac-ac."

"Yes," he said. "If you'll get a bit of paper, Sister, you can write down the message while I spells it off. That is what you want, ain't it, chum ?"

The Sister took paper and pencil and wrote the letters one by one as the code ticked them off and the reader called them to her.

"Ready. Begins!" "Go on, Miss, write it down," as she hesitated. "DonI-Don-Did; W-E-we; Toc-ac-K-Etake; Toc-H-E-the; Toc-R-E-N-C-H; ac-ac-ac. Did we take the trench ?"

The signaler being a very unimaginative man, possibly it might never have occurred to him to lie, to have told anything but the blunt truth that they did not take the trench; that the regiment had been cut to pieces in the attemp to take it; that the further attempt of another regiment on the same

trench had been beaten back with horrible loss; that the lines on both sides, when he was sent to the rear late at night, were held exactly as they had been held before the attack; that the whole result of the action was nil-except for the casualty list. But he caught just in time the softly sighing whispered "Yes" from the unmoving lips of the Sister, and he lied promptly and swiftly, efficiently and at full length.

"Yes," he said, "we took it. I thought you knew that, and that you was wounded on the other side of it; we took it all right. Got a hammering of course; but what was left of us cleared it with the bayonet. You should 'ave 'eard 'em squeal when the bayonet took 'em. There was one big brute-"

He was proceeding with a cheerful imagination, colored by past experiences, when the Sister stopped him. Wally's eyes were closed.

"I think," she said quietly, "that's all that Wally wants to know. Isn't it, Wally?"

The lids lifted slowly, and the Sister could have cried at the glory and satisfaction that shone in them. They closed once softly, lifted slowly, and closed again, tiredly and gently. That is all. Wally died an hour afterwards.

E HAD been dead several years -how long he himself could not tell. For out beyond there

are no hours and minutes. He could only know that he had long been wandering and struggling onward through formless, chaotic darkness, like a lost man creeping doggedly, sullenly, through a vast, black fog. Many memories of sins seemed to hinder his progress; but these were as nothing beside one great remorse that unceasingly pressed upon him. Of course, it Iwas while in the flesh that he had done this one deep wrong that hindered him so mercilessly. He had met her, the one he loved so passionately, and they had sinned together. In the world he had done much good, and except for the sin mentioned, few evils. When he that is, his soul-had passed out from his body, all had been darkness and chaos, with an immense feeling of weight upon him. He that is, his soul-felt so disturbed, so wretched. It seemed to him that he constantly tugged at these weights that restrained him from moving quickly forward-he knew not where. Why he should go forward, aside from a passionate longing to do so, and aside, too, from the fact that the other shapeless, dark forms seemed to be doing so, he could not tell. All was confusion, bewilderment.

Slowly there came over him an intense feeling of remorse, until it at length grew into a terrific anguish. How he began to loathe himself! All the deeds done back there in the flesh began to appear so petty, so low, so beneath what a soul ought to have done. The pain intensified. Each weight now seemed to take a voice unto itself and to cry out against him. As his consciousness became more alive

perhaps because of the accusing voices-a new pain appeared—a pain unknown to him on earth—an agony caused by his lack of form. He seemed but a vast, unbounded mass, a chaotic something that incessantly, hopelessly struggled to bring itself together and think! He was abhorrent to himself. Oh, for some guiding, concentrating principle, some spirit that might show him what he could do, what he should do! Then there came to him words he had heard so often in the days of his flesh: "Heaven and hell are within you."

"And this, then, is the hell that all must suffer," he said, or, rather, felt to himself in some confused way. "Only conscience and confusion! It is sufficient, O God, it is sufficient!"

Struggle as he might, he could move but slowly. A desire to sweep on, to flee from the weights and their accusing voices, burned within him, but he observed, in the vague manner that had become so characteristic of him out here, that other souls, or at least formless, gloomy masses, passed him, glided more quickly toward that mysterious goal for which all seemed to long. The voices of his own sins had not ceased; if they would only be silent for just a moment that he might collect his bewildered thoughts! But no; they clamored incessantly. And yet, somehow, he felt that those voices came not so much from his unseen hindrances as from within himself. If he had been in the flesh he would long since have gone mad. They showed him himself with brutal unmercifulness; he realized-oh, how vividlythe loathsomeness of his deeds. The bitter reflection came to him, at length, that if he had never done these things in the old days he might now

have been sweeping forward even faster than some of the silent figures that flowed past him. Yet none of these ideas, he realized, were cleancut, clear; all was confusion and gloomy shapelessness and darkness and silence; for, after all, the voices were silent and not spoken sounds.

Years may have passed thus-or perhaps it was but a moment; he could not tell, out here in his lonely wandering and struggling. He had learned. to know fully now what he really was, and all was bitter anguish and selfloathing. The longing for some guiding spirit, some companion light, had never ceased. Suddenly he seemed to burst forth in a cry of agony.

"Oh, that I might find the One who can lead me from this chaos! Oh, for light! Oh, that I might know God! Forsaken! Forsaken Too earthy, too foul to know Him, to recognize Him, even if He stood beside me here! O Spirit, whatever Thou art, forgive, forgive!"

That moment his burden began to grow lighter. Some of the smaller weights seemed to dissolve and pass from him; some of the accusing voices ceased to speak. Then, too, he seemed in some way to be collecting himself— to be finding the limits or boundaries of himself.

"Less of shapelessness, less of chaos!" he sobbed in relief. "And see, too, I move faster."

But still many weights clung to him, and one especially hung like a mountain and clamored without rest. It was the great sin-the deed of flesh with her, the woman he had loved. Filth, foul filth, he muttered; the rotten body led me into this confusion of soul. How can I ever know God? I, unclean, swinish, smelling of the flesh!"

The darkness about him had lightened the least bit. He could not tell why; but he was sure that the other figures now hurrying onward with him -millions upon millions, he thoughtwere more distinct. Each seemed a shapeless gray mass, silent, morose, wrapped within itself, each suggestive of inexpressible gloom. It reminded.

him of a picture he had seen of Indians wrapped in their blankets sullenly hurrying on in a driving storm. Yet, though he noticed these things, he felt more and more keenly the tugging weights and the tireless voices. Ever and anon, however, he realized that some one of the burdens dropped or melted away, and some one of the voices became silent. It seemed to him that this happened every time he gave special heed to some persistent accuser and felt sharp remorse touch him to the quick.

There was some little cheer in all this. "Perhaps," muttered he, "they will all at length go from me, and then I shall know God."

Why this intense passion to know God? He had never felt it in such degree while on earth. Perhaps it was because he had never before realized the absolute necessity for some Guiding Principle.

only

Sure enough, just as he had conjectured, the weights and the voices grew less and less evident, and at length passed away. All? All but onethat sin with her. He tried to reason out the cause for this; why all remorse but this had gone. Long in vain he strove for the solution. Long? It might have been years or centuries, or perhaps just a moment; he could not discover out here where time and space seemed unknown, where soul-experiences existed. At length he began to wonder when she would die and follow; she had promised at his death-bed to be with him, if possible, after life. Then came a sudden thought-a spasm thought a spasm of agony; he seemed almost to stop in his onward sweep. She-the soul he lovedwould she have to toil over the lonely waste he had traveled? Would she, too, have to struggle blindly on, suffering remorse as he had, crying passionately in her desolation for the great guiding Spirit just as he had cried? Bitterness of bitterness! Would one vast weight like this one about him, one unceasing, accusing voice, forever accompany her? Now indeed had the fulness of his sin come upon him. But

for him, she might, at death, have sprung into the first rank of those souls now sweeping past him, might have hurried joyfully onward to the mysterious attractive Something beyond! Infinite horror seized upon him, infinite hatred of self, and a world of pity for her, his fellow-sinner.

"O God! O Spirit!" he gasped, "have mercy! Have mercy! Not upon me, but upon her. Lay her weight of guilt upon me! It is mine! It is mine! Spirit of Mercy, pity her!"

That self-same moment the great weight fell from him, and the last accusing voice was silent. God-like pity had set him free. In the agony of his remorse he had offered all that man could offer-to place upon his own soul the guilt of another. Greater love can no man have than this, he thought to himself, that he give up his soul for another.

He could not be sure that the vast burden had passed from her; but, somehow, a great restful confidence flooded him. The fact that the Spirit had forgiven him, the chief of sinners, made him believe that she, the tempted one, had also been forgiven.

While in the midst of these contented contemplations he felt a presence near him, and, turning, he sawher! There was rapture in her appearance. He could not tell how he knew it; there was no face, no concrete form -only vague soul like himself. But all the attitude was one of joy.

"I have come, beloved," she said; yet he knew that it was not a spoken voice.

They swept on side by side.

"Loved one," he inquired, as he pressed nearer her, "how have you passed so quickly over the journey while I have toiled so long, so long?"

"Ah," she replied, "when in the old days you died and went out from me, my soul saw the folly of it all, and with tears of agony I prayed the Spirit to forgive. And all that mortal woman could do to become pure I did in the days that were left me. And when the journey began I seemed, to my surprise, to glide swiftly past the count

less masses about me!"

"And was there no weight whatever?" he eagerly asked, and there seemed to be about him an atmosphere of joyful expectancy.

"Yes, yes, a great, a weary weight, and a dreary, ceaseless voice-the old sin, you know. But suddenly, while thinking of you, I realized that you, too, must be carrying that same weight, and then came a pity that was bitterness itself a pity for you. Do you understand? And do you know, that same moment the burden about me dissolved, and the voice was silent, and I bounded forward, and was-with you!"

"Ah," thought he, "what power lies in an intense desire expressed in prayer! It thrills like an electric current to the soul prayed for!"

Now the light grew more real. They were sweeping on swiftly now, and, side by side, in extreme content, they observed the other hurrying shapes that they passed. Strange to say, he recognized many of them, although some were thousands of years old. some were kings and warriors of the ancient days before Buddha and Confucius and the Man of Galilee and other thoughtful teachers had striven to make men know God. They-the kings and the warriors-had started far back at their death, and after all these ages had reached only that place or station in the jrurney which he and she had reached in so short a time. Others of the ancients seemed to sweep on cheerfully, confidently, and among them he saw some of the philosophers who through exalted thought had formed some clear conception of the nature of God. As the lovers went on they came upon one poor soul who seemed utterly weary and dejected. To their astonishment they recognized him as one of their childhood's teachersa man far famed for his cyclopedic knowledge. In the old days it was thought that he had mastered every earthly fact; but he had failed to master the One Great Fact. So busy had he been in accumulating the dry items of earthly existence that he had never

reflected upon the relationship between himself and the Great Spirit, had never drawn near to God, and now he was groping onward like like a bewildered bewildered child.

a

The lovers in pity murmured prayer for him, but were soon far beyond him. And they were contented; for they knew that some time, perhaps far, far off, even that confused soul would reach the knowledge of the Guiding Principle.

The light was beautiful now. An irresistible attraction drew them on as toward a mighty magnet within a vast circle. The light was more intense beyond. They noticed now that the souls were beginning to merge together. Instead of individual masses, they were becoming like one farsweeping, circular wave.

"I wonder," he said to her, "if we are to lose all individuality out here? See how they all are absorbing all!"

She grew closer to him.

"Perhaps it is best," she replied. "Perhaps individuality is simply one of the vanities of the flesh. Would it not be far better for us all to be merged into the Mighty Personality, the Great Spirit-to be of God and in God?"

It seemed strange to him that the idea gave him no rebellious thought. Back on earth he had prided himself on his individuality. But here his individuality appeared so petty, so powerless, when separated from the Immense Personality that flowed through the merging souls. He turned to speak to her about it; but lo! she was becoming a part of himself, and she comprehended his thoughts without his uttering them; she understood them even as they were forming; aye, she helped form them! She was part of himself and he a part of her.

And suddenly in that moment a marvel was done. He saw all things not only through his own spiritual eyes, but through a woman's! It was a new vision and a new light. Nor was this the end. The vast wave of souls grew denser, more real, and calmly he entered it and became a part of it. His

soul became merged with all the millions of souls that had gone before, and he was no longer a separate personality, but an element in the great throbbing circular wave. And as this sensation grew, what vast wisdom entered into him! All the experiences of every other soul in that innumerable multitude became a part of his own soul experience, and it seemed as though he began to comprehend all things in heaven and on earth. All yearnings of poet, musician, artist, prophet, all mysteries, all raptures—these were his.

Hourly-if in that place there could be such things as hours-he felt his individuality slipping from him. But measureless content was his. How immense, how infinitely nobler was this new universal personality! He felt, he knew, he was becoming, not a part of God, but God Himself. How far beyond his former puny conception of heavenly regard was this! To be in God-in the vast Unity; it was a new conception. New souls. were constantly merging into the wave. He could tell it by the thrills of additional knowledge and of added experience that flooded him unceasingly. And, too, these new spirits were not from his own earth alone; they came from all the earths of universal space. His sense of knowledge and of experience was now indeed God-like. The wave was full of the light of understanding.

How long this went on he could not have expressed. Time was not a matter for consideration when all the thoughts and emotions of infinity and eternity were his. But there came, at length, a moment when the last of all souls merged itself into the wave. The circle was finished; the final Unity was made; God was completed. There was no man; there was no woman. There was only God, and they-the loverswere contained within It and were substance of It. They had entered the Eternal Unity.

On earth they had sinned because they had desired, above all other things, union, oneness; in heaven, it had been granted them-how fully!