their efforts are entirely futile, as well as very distressing for themselves." "Is there, then," asked Brenton, "no communication between this world and the one that I have given up?" The other paused for a moment before he replied. "I should hardly like to say," he answered, "that there is _no_ communication between one world and the other; but the communication that exists is so slight and unsatisfactory, that if you are sensible you will see things with the eyes of those who have very much more experience in this world than you have. Of course, you can go back there as much as you like; there will be no interference and no hindrance. But when you see things going wrong, when you see a mistake about to be made, it is an appalling thing to stand there helpless, unable to influence those you love, or to point out a palpable error, and convince them that your clearer sight sees it as such. Of course, I understand that it must be very difficult for a man who is newly married, to entirely abandon the one who has loved him, and whom he loves. But I assure you that if you follow the life of one who is as young and handsome as your wife, you will find some one else supplying the consolations you are unable to bestow. Such a mission may lead you to a church where she is married to her second husband. I regret to say that even the most imperturbable spirits are ruffled when such an incident occurs. The wise men are those who appreciate and understand that they are in an entirely new world, with new powers and new limitations, and who govern themselves accordingly from the first, as they will certainly do later on." "My dear sir," said Brenton, somewhat offended, "if what you say is true, and I am really a dead man----" "Alive," corrected the other. "Well, alive, then. I may tell you that my wife's heart is broken. She will never marry again." "Of course, that is a subject of which you know a great deal more than I do. I all the more strongly advise you never to see her again. It is impossible for you to offer any consolation, and the sight of her grief and misery will only result in unhappiness for yourself. Therefore, take my advice. I have given it very often, and I assure you those who did not take it expressed their regret afterwards. Hold entirely aloof from anything relating to your former life." Brenton was silent for some moments; finally he said-- "I presume your advice is well meant; but if things are as you state, then I may as well say, first as last, that I do not intend to accept it."