"In the first of these he was sitting in a dimly-lighted room. He was a boy once more, and his mother read to him pages from the Bible, but the texts were disconnected. ’Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.’ ’Whosoever shall offend one of these little ones, it were better that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the depths of the sea.’ ’And the smoke of their torment ascended up for ever and ever, and they have no rest day nor night.’ ’Blessed are the dead.’ "The scene changed. Vera was beside him even as he had seen her that day in all her beauty. They were sitting together on the deck of a vessel; the sun shone brightly, the sea was calm, and the gulls floated over them, moving splashes of glistening white against the deep blue of the sky. Yet even as they thus sat dreaming of love, and surrounded by calm and sunlight, he felt that they were sinking, and that no power could save them. Slowly the blue line of water rose till it was on a level with the deck, but still the motion of the vessel held the water in check. It rose to the bulwarks, and glistened in a dark steely line above it. Fear held them from moving, save that Vera threw her arm around him, pleading for a protection which none could give. The line broke in foaming torrents over the deck. There was a moment of struggle, and then darkness. From the midst of the darkness he heard a voice saying, ’Look up, for the hour of judgment is at hand.’ Then he looked up, and behold hell lay open before him, the hell of human tradition in all the ghastly horror which man, in the deformity of his imagination, has conjured up out of his instinctive cruelty to make part of the creation of love. There lay Vera, condemned to eternal torment. The terrible anguish of her expression as I saw it through the medium of his distorted brain haunts me even now. Her white child-like arms thrown out in hopeless supplication, as she cried aloud to him in pitiful tones to save her, or at least to come near in this awful solitude of suffering; but he was unable to move or speak. The terrible realistic flames enveloped her; flames which none can quench, which violate every law of nature save one, which neither purify nor set free nor stay corruption, but only cause the pain which is their note of warning. Nor was this all. As if one torment that must necessarily absorb all powers of feeling which we know on earth--nay, which merciful nature would stay at once by her opiate of insensibility--were not enough, other horrors of man’s imagination were added which are too revolting for words, yet which had all at one time been taught to this wretched man as essential parts of the Gospel of God, the good news of love. Had he not been mad such a picture must have been a revelation; if he, selfish as he was, could be thus overwhelmed with remorse and horror, what of the Father, the Creator who for ever must watch his