"We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we carry nothing out." Calista had heard these words many times, till they were as trite to her as they are, perhaps, to you and me; but to-day, sitting by her grandfather's grave, they took on a meaning as new as though an angel had just spoken them in her ear. She saw, as it is given to people sometimes to see, this life and the next in their true proportions and relations. She saw how near that other life lay to hers; how her daily path ran along its very margin, which it might cross at any minute. She saw how immeasurably little—how absolutely nothing—were all the interests of this life compared with that. A few times in almost every person's life, the veil is lifted which hangs between this life and that, and the spectator is shown a glimpse of the fair and dreadful things behind it; and a voice, not of this world, says,— "These, THESE are the real things!" The others are but dreams and shadows; or, at most, empty toys, broken before enjoyed, wounding the hand that grasps them. Woe to him if, having seen that sight and heard that voice, he goes on still in his own way, living as if there were no such thing! The other day I saw some sparrows busily making a nest in a building which was at that moment being torn down. The silly little birds were wise compared to such a man. Calista rose at last, and busied herself in pulling up the weeds and thistles which grew on her grandfather's and grandmother's grave. She would have done the same for that of the first Mrs. Stanfield, Priscilla's mother, but it was overgrown with a poison vine which she dared not touch. She had but just finished her task when she saw the chaise drive up with her aunt and Miss Druett. She gathered a bunch of the fragrant honeysuckle and some of the exquisitely fluted buds of the laurel, and went in. It was very easy to see that Miss Priscilla was in one of her worst humors. Calista had not exaggerated in saying that at such times she was like some strong wild animal. She glared at Calista when she came in, but said not a word. Calista put her flowers in water and came down to tea. Not a word was spoken till Miss Druett said, not unkindly— "I saw you come across the road, Calista. Where had you been?" "Only in the graveyard, Miss Druett." "And what took you there, child? It is not cheerful place." "No, indeed. I took a fancy to read the inscription on grandfather's monument. It is terribly out of repair, and will be tumbling down if it is not mended. And, Aunt Priscilla, your mother's grave is all covered with poison ivy!" Miss Priscilla set down her teacup with shaking hands and stared at Calista, while her cheeks and even her lips became white. "How dare you go there?" she stammered. "How dare you speak to me of graves?"