The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

156 TThe Gates Ajar.
could n't be a permanent state of feeling, you
know. I expect to be transformed by the
renewing of my mind to appreciate the glories
of the New Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God. That's what I expect, marm.
Now I heerd that you told Mrs. Bland, or that
Mary told her, or that she heerd it someway,
that you said you supposed there were trees
and flowers and houses and such in heaven.
I told my wife I thought your deceased husband was a Congregational minister, and I
did n't believe you ever said it; but that's the
rumor."
Without deeming it necessary to refer to
her "deceased husband," Aunt Winifred replied that "rumor" was quite right.
"Well!" said the Deacon, with severe significance, "I believe in a spiritooal heaven."
I looked him over again, - hat, hoe, shirt,
and all; scanned his obstinate old face with its
stupid, good eyes and animal mouth. Then I
glanced at Aunt Winifred as she leaned
forward in the afternoon light; the white,
finely cut woman, with her serene smile and
rapt, saintly eyes, - every inch of her, body
and soul, refined not only by birth and training, but by the long nearness of her heart to
Christ.