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 widowed wife, whose streaming eyes and pallid cheek and languid frame bespeak an agony too deep for words:—Ask her, as she sees the coffin-lid close over the remains of him to whom her affections clung with all the devotion of woman's love, whether it would not lighten somewhat the burden of her grief, to know something definite about that realm which her departed husband entered but yesterday:—Ask if it would not comfort her aching heart to know that he is more alive than ever before, and thinks of and loves her still; that his spirit is very near and fondly brooding over her own;—breathing into her soul in gentlest whispers the blessed influences of heaven (if his heart were set on heavenly things); watching over her tenderly, inspiring her with generous thoughts and noble endeavors, cheering and strengthening her in every good work, and ready, perchance, when her earthly sojourn is ended, to clasp her again in love's embrace: Or ask that youth or maiden who stands overwhelmed with anguish by the bedside of a dying father, mother, sister or brother, and feels as if the extinction of this mortal life were the end of human joys and hopes: Or ask that sad and thronging crowd who mourn the departure of those they love, and whose dark apparel is but a faint emblem of their darker sorrow, and the funereal gloom that shrouds to them the spirit-land,—ask them if a truthful revelation of the realities of that world to which their friends have so lately gone, would ring no comfort to their riven hearts. Ask if they would find no solace in the unwavering conviction that their loved ones are still near and watching over them for good—inspiring holy thoughts