Theblankmighthavebeenanhouroracentury。Heknewonlythatomethinghadhappenedintheinterval。Whatiswashecouldnottell。
Hefoundgreatdifficultyincatchingthethreadofhisidentityagain。
Hefeltthathewashimself；butthetroublewastomakehisconnections，toverifyandplacehimself，toknowwhoandwherehewas。
Atlastitgrewclear。JohnWeightmanwassittingonastone，notfarfromaroadinastrangeland。
Theroadwasnotaformalhighway，fencedandgraded。Itwasmorelikeagreattravel-trace，wornbythousandsoffeetpassingacrosstheopencountryinthesamedirection。Downinthevalley，intowhichhecouldlook，theroadseemedtoformitselfgraduallyoutofmanyminorpaths；littlefootwayscomingacrossthemeadows，windingtracksfollowingalongbesidethestreams，faintlymarkedtrailsemergingfromthewoodlands。Butonthehillsidethethreadsweremorefirmlywovenintooneclearbandoftravel，thoughtherewerestillafewdimpathsjoiningithereandthere，asifpersonshadbeenclimbingupthehillbyotherwaysandhadturnedatlasttoseektheroad。
Fromtheedgeofthehill，whereJohnWeightmansat，hecouldseethetravelers，inlittlegroupsorlargercompanies，gatheringfromtimetotimebythedifferentpaths，andmakingtheascent。
Theywereallclothedinwhite，andtheformoftheirgarmentswasstrangetohim；itwaslikesomeoldpicture。Theypassedhim，groupaftergroup，talkingquietlytogetherorsinging；notmovinginhaste，butwithacertainairofeagernessandjoyasiftheyweregladtobeontheirwaytoanappointedplace。Theydidnotstaytospeaktohim，buttheylookedathimoftenandspoketooneanotherastheylooked；andnowandthenoneofthemwouldsmileandbeckonhimafriendlygreeting，sothathefelttheywouldlikehimtobewiththem。
Therewasquiteanintervalbetweenthegroups；andhefollowedeachofthemwithhiseyesafterithadpassed，blanchingthelongribbonoftheroadforalittletransientspace，risingandrecedingacrossthewide，billowyupland，amongtheroundedhillocksofaerialgreenandgoldandlilac，untilitcametothehighhorizon，andstoodoutlinedforamoment，atinycloudofwhitenessagainstthetenderblue，beforeitvanishedoverthehill。
Foralongtimehesattherewatchingandwondering。ItwasaverydifferentworldfromthatinwhichhismansionontheAvenuewasbuilt；anditlookedstrangetohim，butmostreal——asrealasanythinghehadeverseen。Presentlyhefeltastrongdesiretoknowwhatcountryitwasandwherethepeopleweregoing。
Hehadafaintpremonitionofwhatitmustbe，buthewishedtobesure。
Soherosefromthestonewherehewassitting，andcamedownthroughtheshortgrassandthelavenderflowers，towardapassinggroupofpeople。
Oneofthemturnedtomeethim，andheldouthishand。Itwasanoldman，underwhosewhitebeardandbrowsJohnWeightmanthoughthesawasuggestionofthefaceofthevillagedoctorwhohadcaredforhimyearsago，whenhewasaboyinthecountry。
\"Welcome，\"saidtheoldman。\"Willyoucomewithus？\"
\"Whereareyougoing？\"
\"Totheheavenlycity，toseeourmansionsthere。\"
\"Andwhoarethesewithyou？\"
\"Strangerstome，untilalittlewhileago；Iknowthembetternow。
ButyouIhaveknownforalongtime，JohnWeightman。Don\'tyourememberyourolddoctor？\"
\"Yes，\"hecried——\"yes；yourvoicehasnotchangedatall。
I\'mgladindeedtoseeyou，DoctorMcLean，especiallynow。
Allthisseemsverystrangetome，almostoppressive。
Iwonderif——butmayIgowithyou，doyousuppose？\"
\"Surely，\"answeredthedoctor，withhisfamiliarsmile；\"itwilldoyougood。Andyoualsomusthaveamansioninthecitywaitingforyou——afineone，too——areyounotlookingforwardtoit？\"
\"Yes，\"repliedtheother，hesitatingamoment；\"yes——Ibelieveitmustbeso，althoughIhadnotexpectedtoseeitsosoon。
ButIwillgowithyou，andwecantalkbytheway。\"
Thetwomenquicklycaughtupwiththeotherpeople，andallwentforwardtogetheralongtheroad。Thedoctorhadlittletotellofhisexperience，forithadbeenaplain，hardlife，uneventfullyspentforothers，andthestoryofthevillagewasverysimple。JohnWeightman\'sadventuresandtriumphswouldhavemadeafarricher，moreimposinghistory，fullofcontactswiththegreateventsandpersonagesofthetime。
Butsomehoworotherhedidnotcaretospeakmuchaboutit，walkingonthatwideheavenlymoorland，underthattranquil，sunlessarchofblue，inthatfreeairofperfectpeace，wherethelightwasdiffusedwithoutashadow，asifthespiritoflifeinallthingswereluminous。
TherewasonlyonepersonbesidesthedoctorinthatlittlecompanywhomJohnWeightmanhadknownbefore——anoldbookkeeperwhohadspenthislifeoveradesk，carefullykeepingaccounts——arusty，dulllittleman，patientandnarrow，whosewifehadbeenintheinsaneasylumfortwentyyearsandwhoseonlychildwasacrippleddaughter，forwhosecomfortandhappinesshehadtoiledandsacrificedhimselfwithoutstint。
Itwasasurprisetofindhimhere，ascare-freeandjoyfulastherest。
Thelivesofothersinthecompanywererevealedinbriefglimpsesastheytalkedtogether——amother，earlywidowed，whohadkeptherlittleflockofchildrentogetherandlaboredthroughhardandheavyyearstobringthemupinpurityandknowledge——aSisterofCharitywhohaddevotedherselftothenursingofpoorfolkwhowerebeingeatentodeathbycancer——aschoolmasterwhoseheartandlifehadbeenpouredintohisquietworkoftrainingboysforacleanandthoughtfulmanhood——amedicalmissionarywhohadgivenupabrilliantcareerinsciencetotakethechargeofahospitalindarkestAfrica——abeautifulwomanwithsilverhairwhohadresignedherdreamsofloveandmarriagetocareforaninvalidfather，andafterhisdeathhadmadeherlifealong，steadysearchforwaysofdoingkindnessestoothers——apoetwhohadwalkedamongthecrowdedtenementsofthegreatcity，bringingcheerandcomfortnotonlybyhissongs，butbyhiswiseandpatientworksofpracticalaid——aparalyzedwomanwhohadlainforthirtyyearsuponherbed，helplessbutnothopeless，succeedingbyamiracleofcourageinhersingleaim，nevertocomplain，butalwaystoimpartabitofjoyandpeacetoeveryonewhocamenearher。Allthese，andotherpersonslikethem，peopleoflittleconsiderationintheworld，butnowseeminglyallfullofgreatcontentmentandaninwardgladnessthatmadetheirstepslight，wereinthecompanythatpassedalongtheroad，talkingtogetherofthingspastandthingstocome，andsingingnowandthenwithclearvoicesfromwhichtheveilofageandsorrowwaslifted。
JohnWeightmanjoinedinsomeofthesongs——whichwerefamiliartohimfromtheiruseinthechurch——atfirstwithatouchofhesitation，andthenmoreconfidently。Forastheywentonhissenseofstrangenessandfearathisnewexperiencediminished，andhisthoughtsbegantotakeontheirhabitualassuranceandcomplacency。WerenotthesepeoplegoingtotheCelestialCity？Andwasnotheinhisrightplaceamongthem？Hehadalwayslookedforwardtothisjourney。