I sought to withdraw, but this they would not permit; for, closing around me in a circle, they intercepted all means of egress. I stood with downcast eyes, humbled and ashamed, when one young maiden approached, and laying her hand upon my shoulder, said in tones, the flute-like sweetness of which I shall never forget: “Do you not know me? I am one who was very dear to you; I have lived in this beautiful spot so long, waiting for you to come; surely you must know me, and will receive the love I have been keeping for you.” I raised my eyes and scanned those lovely features. Surely, aye, surely I recognized them; more beautiful, further developed, and stamped with a lovelier grace and more charming expression than I had known; yet the same winning smile, the shining hair, and sparkling eyes of my darling were before me, in more than radiant splendor. I could not speak; it was too much! Oh, had I known I should meet my loved one thus, how I would have prepared myself to become fit to enter her celestial presence! Divining my thoughts, the dear one twined her snowy arms around my neck, and whispering, “I am so happy, oh, so happy to meet you!” laid her silken head upon my breast, and all unworthy as I knew myself to be, I clasped her in a tender, loving, soul-full embrace. Raising her head, my dear one said: “These are my companions, come to welcome you to the Summer-land. They all know of you, and love you for what you are worth; they have been with you when you have given forth the sweet expressions of the soul, and they know what you are capable of becoming.” She led me to a mossy seat, and the fair group, ranging themselves around us, began to sing a song of welcome, the sweetness of which can never be surpassed. I do not propose to draw these experiences out to great length, therefore cannot tell you all that transpired in this lovely spot. I was welcomed, given a happy home for my abiding place, but left free to wander wherever I would. Surrounded by loving faces, and ministered to with tender care, I sank into a state of dreamy bliss, well suited to my peculiar temperament. You may think I had passed through the temptations of life, I had renounced its follies, and repented of its mistakes. But repentance is not a thing of a day or a month; memory has written her score upon the tablets of the soul, and if blotted and scarred, it takes time and labor to efface their unsightliness. I did not know this at the time, but inactivity is the bane of life, and the soul that is idle cannot go forward.