He lay still, and spoke out for all the world as if I had been there with him all day. “I am lookin' to see if I can see it. I thought I got a glimpse of it a minute ago, but it wus only a white cloud.” “Lookin' for what?” says I. “The gate of that City that comes down out of the heavens. You know, uncle Josiah read about it this morning, out of that big book he prays out of after breakfast. He said the gate was one pearl. “And I asked mamma what a pearl was, and she said it was just like that ring she wears that papa gave her. And I asked her where the City was, and she said it was up in the heavens. And I asked her if I should ever see it; and she said, if I was good, it would swing down out of the sky, sometime, and that shining gate would open, and I should walk through it into the City. [Illustration: LOOKING FOR THE CITY.] “And I went right to being good, that minute; and I have been good for as many as three hours, I should think. And _say_, how long have you got to be good before you can go through? And _say_, can you see it before you go through? And SAY”-- But I had got most out of hearin' then. “And _say_”-- I heard his last “say” just as I got out of hearin' of him. He acted kinder disappointed at dinner-time, and said “he wus tired of watchin', and tired out of bein' good;” and he wus considerable cross all that afternoon. But he got clever agin before bedtime. And he come and leaned up aginst my lap at sundown, and asked me, I guess, about 200 questions about the City. And his eyes looked big and dreamy and soft, and his cheeks looked rosy, and his mouth awful good and sweet. And his curls wus kinder moist, and hung down over his white forehead. I _did_ love him, and couldn't help it, chin or no chin. He had been still for quite a spell, a thinkin'; and at last he broke out,-- “Say, auntie, shall I see my father there in the City?” And I didn't know what to tell him; for you know what it says,-- “_Without_ are murderers.” [Illustration: ASKING ABOUT THE CITY.] But then, agin, I thought, what will become of the respectable church members who sell the fire that flames up in a man's soul, and ruins his life? What will become of them who lend their votes and their influence to make it right? They vote on Saturdays, to make the sale of this poison legal, and on Sundays go to church with their respectable families. And they expect to go right to heaven, of course; for they have improved all the means of grace. Hired costly pews, and give big charities--in money obtained by sellin' robberies, murders, broken hearts, ruined lives. But the boy wanted an answer; and his eyes looked questioning but soft. “Say, auntie, do you think we'll find him there, mamma and I? You know, that is what mamma cries so for,--she wants him so bad. And do you think he will stand just inside the gate, waiting for us? _Say!_” But agin I thought of what it said,-- “No drunkard shall inherit eternal life.”