and there was a twittering anda fluttering of all the little birds, as if the day were a greatfestival; and so it was, for it was Sunday. All the bells wereringing, and all the people went to church, looking cheerful, anddressed in their best clothes. There was a look of cheerfulness oneverything. The day was so warm and beautiful that one might well havesaid: "God's kindness to us men is beyond all limits." But insidethe church the pastor stood in the pulpit, and spoke very loudly andangrily. He said that all men were wicked, and God would punish themfor their sins, and that the wicked, when they died, would be castinto hell, to burn for ever and ever. He spoke very excitedly,saying that their evil propensities would not be destroyed, norwould the fire be extinguished, and they should never find rest.That was terrible to hear, and he said it in such a tone ofconviction; he described hell to them as a miserable hole where allthe refuse of the world gathers. There was no air beside the hotburning sulphur flame, and there was no ground under their feet; they,the wicked ones, sank deeper and deeper, while eternal silencesurrounded them! It was dreadful to hear all that, for the preacherspoke from his heart, and all the people in the church were terrified.Meanwhile, the birds sang merrily outside, and the sun was shiningso beautifully warm, it seemed as though every little flower said:"God, Thy kindness towards us all is without limits." Indeed,outside it was not at all like the pastor's sermon.
  The same evening, upon going to bed, the pastor noticed his wifesitting there quiet and pensive.
  "What is the matter with you?" he asked her.
  "Well, the matter with me is," she said, "that I cannot collect mythoughts, and am unable to grasp the meaning of what you said to-dayin church- that there are so many wicked people, and that theyshould burn eternally. Alas! eternally- how long! I am only a womanand a sinner before God, but I should not have the heart to let eventhe worst sinner burn for ever, and how could our Lord to do so, whois so infinitely good, and who knows how the wickedness comes fromwithout and within? No, I am unable to imagine that, although yousay so."
  It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest andsevere pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious,faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor's wife.
  ..."If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before ourLord you shall certainly do so," said the pastor. He folded herhands and read a psalm over the dead woman.
  She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of theearnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for itssun had set for ever. She had gone home.
  It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor's head; heopened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shininginto his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standingbefore his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. Shefixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just asif she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself inbed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can findeternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"
  The dead woman nodded her head as if to say "Yes," and put herhand on her breast.
  "And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?"
  "Yes," was the answer.
  "And how?"
  "Give me one hair- only one single hair- from the head of thesinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinnerwhom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell."
  "Yes, one ought to be able to redeem you so easily, you pure,pious woman," he said.
  "Follow me," said the dead woman. "It is thus granted to us. By myside you will be able to fly wherever your thoughts wish to go.Invisible to men, we shall penetrate into their most secretchambers; but with sure hand you must find out him who is destinedto eternal torture, and before the cock crows he must be found!"