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 we know? How can  honors  be  heaven,  since  uneasy lies even  the  head  that  wears  a  crown;  or  riches, which only  whet  the  appetite  for  more;  or  power, since timid  kings  must  have  their  warlike  bodyguards; or  any  or  all  created  goods,  since  back  of each  we  see  the  grim  figure  of  death  awaiting  his turn? Some dying  saints,  they  say,  have  received, ere death,  the  joys  of  heaven;  and  oftentimes,  in dreams,  we  traverse  fields  Elysian,  but,  apart  from empty dreams  or  doubtful  vision,  there  is  no  heaven here. There is  an  island  in  a  southern  sea — the  isle of Capri — the  loveliest  spot  on  earth — where  Nature rivals God  for  man's  affections,  and  God,  to  hold man's love,  must  needs  perform  a  yearly  miracle;  and tourists call  it  paradise;  but  among  the  peasants  I found  the  direst  poverty,  nor  aught  of  happiness  save one, a  lonely  hermit  on  the  mountain  top,  his thoughts intent  on  God. Another day  in  the  great St. Peter's,  thronged  with  people  from  every  land, the Pontiff  celebrated  Mass,  and  when  the  elevation came and  every  head,  from  prince  to  peasant,  bowed, and sword  and  muskets  clanged  as  soldiers  kneeled, and a  tiny  ray  of  light  played  round  the  Pontiffs head, and  a  tiny  ray  of  sound  from  a  silver  bell  alone broke the  stillness,  till  down  from  the  dome  came  the heavenly music  of  the  trumpeters — then  people  said 'twas heaven,  and,  truth  to  say,  'twas  like  it — but  no! many  a  sinful,  unbelieving  heart  was  there,  many  a sorrow-laden  soul;  many  a  form  bending  under  a weight  of  woe  as  heavy  as  that  of  the  heartbroken Leo; but  for  heaven,  we  must  look  higher  still — to