"Not till you know the Lord yourself; and I do not deny that one must know Him well, to be so eager to go to Him. One does not easily leave the known for the unknown." "Let me read another bit of a story, or history," said Meredith. "We cannot come to an agreement by talking; these things must be _lived in_--must they not, Mr. Murray?" "Yes, read. But see the sky!" said Mr. Murray. "And the colours along the shore! Wonderful, wonderful! What a Sunday evening this is." Meredith sat silently looking for a few minutes. With every quarter of an hour of the descending sun, the world was growing now more like a fairy-tale world. The lights and the shadows and the colours were making such exquisite work, that the bit of earth the gazers were looking upon seemed not to belong to the earth of history or the life of experience, but to be something unearthly, and glorified. With all that, the Sabbath stillness! There was the lap of the water at the foot of the rocks; the rustle of the dry leaves down below where Fenton was prowling about; the call of the bugle sounding out some order for the dragoons on the other side at the post; between whiles the absolute repose of nature. "I wonder if the new heavens and the new earth will be anything like this!" said Mr. Murray with a long breath. "This is not like our common world. Well, Meredith--it is hard upon you, but it is better than too much talking." "It is not hard upon me, sir. I am getting all my ideas cleared up. "'Holy Scripture saith, that the hearts of the children shall be turned to the parents, and the hearts of the parents to the children. I will tell you a story about that, which, I hope, may be of use; so much the more, that in this regard one sees so much that is senseless.