The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

I34 The Gates Ajar.
friends. The last pain borne, the last tear,
the last sigh, the last lonely hour, the last
unsatisfied dream, forever gone by; why
should not the dead past bury its dead?"
"Then why remember it? "
"'Save but to swell the sense of being
blest.' Besides, forgetfulness of the disagreeable things of this life implies forgetfulness of
the pleasant ones. They are all tangled together."
" To be sure. I don't know that I should
like that."
"Of course you would n't. Imagine yourself in a state of being where you and Roy
had lost your past; all that you had borne and
enjoyed, and hoped and feared, together; the
pretty little memories of your babyhood, and
first'half-days' at school, when he used to
trudge along beside you, -little fellow! how
many times I have watched him! -holding you
tight by the apron-sleeve or hat-string, or bits
of fat fingers, lest you should run away or fall.
Then the old Academy pranks, out of which
you used to help each other; his little chivalry and elder-brotherly advice; the mischief in
his eyes; some of the'Sunday-night talks',
the first novel that you read and dreamed over