for his toiling, suddenly back of him he heard a marvellous, many-toned,
soft whirring, as of innumerable light wings, and over his head flew a
countless crowd of silver-white birds, and floated in the air beyond.
And as he gazed, surprised, at their loveliness, without speech again it
was said to him:

"My child, these are your witnesses. These are the thoughts and the
influences which have gone from your mind to other minds through the
years of your life." And they were all pure white.

And it was borne in upon him, as if a bandage had been lifted from his
eyes, that character was what mattered in the great end; that success,
riches, environment, intellect, even, were but the tools the master gave
into his servants' hands, and that the honesty of the work was all they
must answer for. And again he lifted his eyes to the hovering white
birds, and with a great thrill of joy it came to him that he had his
offering, too, he had this lovely multitude for a gift to the Master;
and, as if the thought had clothed him with glory, he saw his poor black
clothes suddenly transfigured to shining garments, and, with a shock, he
felt the rush of a long-forgotten feeling, the feeling of youth and
strength, beating in a warm glow through his veins. With a sigh of deep
happiness, the old man awoke.

A log had fallen, and turning as it fell, the new surface had caught
life from the half-dead ashes, and had blazed up brightly, and the
warmth was penetrating gratefully through him. The old clergyman
smiled, and held his thin hands to the flame as he gazed into the fire,
but the wonder and awe of his dream were in his eyes.

"My beautiful white birds!" he said, aloud, but softly. "Mine! They were