“You seem very cheerful, Hagar, while your uncle lies in the agonies of death!” “I should not be cheerful if he were in the agonies of death—he is released, and there was no agony. I could not have believed that a spirit could have been withdrawn from the body with so little pain to either!” “And so he is gone!” said Emily, in a tone of pity. “So he is gone. Well, ‘after life’s fitful fever he sleeps well!’ peace be with him!” “Yes, peace be with him. May his cradle be soft—may his nurses be tender—may his parents be gentle and wise, and may his present life—the life just commenced—be happier than his past pilgrimage, the life just closed!” She had spoken earnestly. “Why, what in the name of heaven are you talking of, Hagar?” asked Emily, in astonishment. “Of the man just dead, and the babe just born!” “I believe you are crazy, Hagar!—at least any one who did not know you as well as I know you, would believe so. What do you mean by such language?” She had finished setting the table, and had now sat down by the fire. Hagar was standing by her, leaning with her back against the side of the mantel-piece. “This is what I mean: there is no death, but only change. I do not see death. I cannot find death anywhere in the world. I see change, but no destruction—no, not even loss of identity. See how one principle—any principle in chemistry, for instance, will pass through a thousand media, assuming a thousand forms, but not losing itself, not changing its own individuality. Yes, one principle will pass through the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, and pass again circulating for ever without losing itself. And so with our spirit, as it struggles up through hardest, seemingly deadest forms of existence, to its human form; and from the lowest human nature up to the highest; from the savage to the civilized man; and from a common-place civilized man, up to a Howard or a Fenelon; and from a Howard, perhaps, to an angel, but always with more or less speed—_up! up!_—never falling, never losing, never retrograding, relapsing. Thus, a soul that has passed through the schooling of civilization, never, never in its transmigrations, relapses into the body of a savage. I stood by and watched the passing away of uncle’s spirit, and wondered to see Christians looking so sad, as though it were annihilation and not a journey; as though they did not see that God was wise enough, and good enough, and potent enough to take care of the soul He had brought thus far in its course. I stood by, thinking that around some other bed some other people were gathered, awaiting the arrival of a newborn infant, and that when the wail of sorrow arose in this room for the dead, the voice of rejoicing would be heard in that room for the newborn! And I watched in eagerness, in excitement, but not in sorrow, not in regret. Could _I_ regret that his spirit was withdrawn from its present racked and ruined home? No, I am glad!” she said, with dancing eyes.