By Rebecca Springer Originally titled  "Intra Muros" Published 1922

Within the Gates    The Purity & Beauty of Paradise     After some time in this delightful place, we passed through the open window onto the marble terrace. A stairway of artistically finished marble wound gracefully down from this terrace to the lawn beneath the trees. The fruit laden branches of the trees hung within easy reach from the terrace, and I noticed as I stood there that morning seven varieties. One kind resembled our Bartlett pear, only much larger, and infinitely more delicious to the taste, as I soon found. Another variety was in clusters, the fruit also pear shaped, but smaller than the former, and of the consistency and flavor similar to the finest frozen cream. It seemed to me at the time, and really proved to be so, that a great variety and excellence of food was provided without labor or care. My brother gathered some of the different varieties and bade me try them. I did so with relish and refreshment.         Once the rich juice from the pear like fruit ran out profusely over my hands, and the front of my dress. "Oh," I said, "I have ruined my dress, I fear!"         My brother laughed genially as he said, "Show me the stains." To my amazement, not a spot could I find. "Look at your hands," he said. I found them clean and fresh, as though just from the bath.         "What does it mean? My hands were covered with the thick juice of the fruit."         "Simply," he answered, "that no impurity can remain for an instant in the air. Nothing decays, nothing tarnishes, nor in any way disfigures nor mars the universal purity or beauty of this place. As fast as the fruit ripens and falls, all that is not immediately gathered at once evaporates, not even the seed remaining."         I had noticed that no fruit lay beneath the trees, this then was the reason for it. "And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth," I quoted thoughtfully.         "Yes, even so," he answered, "even so." Meeting My Parents         We descended the steps and again entered the flower room. As I stood once more admiring the inlaid roses, my brother asked, "Whom of all the friends you have in Heaven, do you wish most to see?"         "My father and mother," I answered quickly. He smiled so significantly that I hastily turned, and there, advancing up the long room to meet me, I saw my dear father and mother, and with them my youngest sister. With a cry of joy I flew into my father's outstretched arms, and heard with a thrill of joy his dear familiar, "My precious little daughter!"         "At last, at last!" I cried, clinging to him. "At last I have you again!"         "At last!" he echoed with a deep drawn breath of joy. Then he resigned me to my dear mother, and we were soon clasped in each other's embrace.         "My precious mother!" "My dear child," we cried simultaneously. And my sister enfolding us both in her arms exclaimed with a happy cry, "I cannot wait! I will not be left outside!" And disengaging one arm, I threw it around her neck and drew her into the happy circle of our united love.         Oh, what an hour was that! I did not dream that even Heaven could hold such joy. After a time my brother, who had shared our joy, said, "Now I can safely leave you for a few hours to this blessed reunion, for I have other work before me."         "Yes," said my father, "You must go. We will with joy take charge of our dear child."         "Then for a brief while, goodbye," said my brother kindly. "Do not forget that rest, especially to one but recently entered upon the new life, is not only one of the pleasures, but one of the duties of Heaven."         "Yes, we will see she does not forget that," said my father with a kindly smile and glance.         After my brother's departure my mother said, grasping my hand, "Come. I am eager to have you in our own home." We all passed out of the rear entrance, walked a few hundred yards across the soft turf, and entered a lovely home somewhat similar to our own, yet unlike it in many details. Every room spoke of modest refinement and taste, and the home air about it was at once delightfully perceptible. My father's study was on the second floor, and the first thing I noticed on entering was the luxuriant branches and flowers of a rose tree that covered the window by his desk.         "Ah," I cried, "I can almost imagine myself in your old study at home when I look out that window."         "Is it not a reminder?" he said laughing happily. "I almost think sometimes that it is the same dear old bush transplanted here."         "It seems this ought to be your home, dear; it is our father's home," said my sister wistfully.         "Nay," my father quickly interposed. "Colonel Springer is her legitimate guardian and instructor. It is a wise and admirable arrangement. He is in every way the most suitable instructor she could possibly have. Our Father never errs. Her brother stands very near the Master. Few have a clearer knowledge of the divine will, hence few are better fitted for instructors. But I too have duties that call me for a time away. How blessed to know that there can never again be long separations! You will have two homes now, dear child, your own and ours."

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