"Pooh! pooh! you needn't read. Because if _that_ book is true, why then I've made a bad _investment_ of my life. I never deceived myself. I always looked upon this thing you call religion as a branch of trade--a cloak--a trap. But now I want you to tell me one thing, (and I've paid enough money to have a decent answer): Do you really believe that there is _anything_ after this life? Speak, minister! Don't we go to sleep and rot,--and isn't that all?" Herman did not answer. But the voice of the boy Gulian, who was kneeling in the shadows of the death-chamber, broke through the stillness-- "There is something beyond the grave. There is a God! There is a heaven and a hell. There is a hope for the repentant, and there is a judgment for the impenitent." There was something almost supernatural in the tones of the boy's voice, breaking so slowly and distinctly upon the profound stillness. The spectators started at the sound; and as for the dying man, he picked at his clothing and at the coverlet with his long fingers, now chilling fast with the cold of death--and muttered incoherent sounds, without sense or meaning of any kind. "His face has a horrible look!" ejaculated the Colonel; who was half hidden among the curtains of the bed. "He is going fast," said the Doctor, looking at his watch. "In five minutes all will be over,--" "And you said, I believe, that he had not made his will?" It was Herman who spoke. The sensation of remorse had been succeeded by his accustomed tone of feeling. His face was impressed with the profound selfishness which impelled his words. "He had better make his will. Without heirs, he can leave his fortune to the church,--" "For shame! for shame!" cried the Doctor. "A little too greedy, my good friend," the Colonel, at his back, remarked. "Allow me to remark, that your conduct manifests too much of the Levite, and too little of the gentleman." Herman bit his lip, and was silent After this, there was no word spoken for a long time. The spectators watched in silence the struggles of the dying man. How he died!--I shudder but to write it; and would not write it, were I not convinced that _atheism in the church_ is the grand cause of one half of the crimes and evils that afflict the world. The death-bed of the ATHEIST church-member, with the ATHEIST minister sitting by the bed, was a horrible scene. I see that picture, now:-- A vast room, furnished with all the incidents of wealth, lofty ceiling, walls adorned with pictures, and carpet that was woven in human blood. A single lamp on the table near the bed, breaks the gloom. The curtains of that bed are of satin, the pillow is of down, the coverlet is spotless as the snow; and there a long slender frame, and a face with the seal of sixty years of life upon it, attract the gaze of silent spectators. The doctor--his face shaded by the wide rim of his hat, sits by the bed, watch in hand.