Nobody, in books or out of them,
compared with him. I wondered if there were really any Mr. Great-
Hearts to be met with among living men.
I remember reading this beloved book once in a snow-storm, and
looking up from it out among the white, wandering flakes, with a
feeling that they had come down from heaven as its interpreters;
that they were trying to tell me, in their airy up-and-down-
flight, the story of innumerable souls. I tried to fix my eye on
one particular flake, and to follow its course until it touched
the earth. But I found that I could not. A little breeze was
stirring an the flake seemed to go and return, to descend and
then ascend again, as if hastening homeward to the sky, losing
itself at last in the airy, infinite throng, and leaving me
filled with thoughts of that "great multitude, which no man could
number, clothed with white robes," crowding so gloriously into
the closing pages of the Bible.
Oh, if I could only be sure that I should some time be one of
that invisible company! But the heavens were already beginning to
look a great way off.
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