Presently, leaving the beautiful country far behind us, we came upon a desert waste, and as I am extremely sensitive to conditions, I felt somewhat like a criminal in passing through it.  Having got safely over, however, there burst upon our sight a scene of surpassing beauty; as far as the eye could reach extended a most highly-cultivated district of country.

Groves of fruit resembling the oranges and pineapples of our tropics, noble trees like the palm, the fig, and date, were to be seen in every quarter, rearing their boughs against the summer sky.  The air was laden with fragrance from tree and vine.

Great bunches of purple grapes like the fabled fruit of Canaan in the Old Testament, a single bunch of which required two men to bear it, drooped heavily from twining vines, while from many a bough and twig swung golden, crimson, and cream-colored fruit, which fairly made one’s mouth water.

It was a picture rich enough in color for a Claude or Turner.

“This is delicious,” said I to Penn.  “Do tell us to what fairy prince this magnificent land belongs!”

“We will show you the fairy prince himself, very soon,” said he.  “Do you see the tip of his castle yonder?”

I looked, and as we moved swiftly in the direction indicated an unexpected spectacle loomed in sight.  It was a building so delicate and perfect in its structure that it appeared like a vision.

Pillars and arches, dome and architrave, were wrought in a style exquisitely beautiful; the material of which it was composed seemed like polished sea-shells, so transparent that you could see through it the forms of the inmates.

“This,” said William Penn, “is one of our prisons.  Let us enter.”

We followed in amazement, and were ushered into a hall hung with paintings rich in design and color, while distributed around in various alcoves were cases containing books and articles of curious workmanship, of which I had not yet learned the use.

This hall formed the court within the main building.

From where we stood we could see hundreds of men in white suits moving about.  Some seemed engaged in conversation, others in sportive games, and others in various employments.

“You do not mean to tell us that these men are prisoners,” said I.

“Yes; they have passed for years on earth a life of evil, yet all the beauty you behold here is the work of their hands.  Idleness is the mother of crime.  We teach them to become industrious, and surround them with beauty to develop their love of harmony.

“Ignorance and poverty are supposed to be the principal causes of evil on earth.  But many fearful offences have been committed in high places from thwarted love and ambition.  We have many of that character in this prison, but they are young.  This is intended as a place to educate and restrain men who would return to earth and incite impressible beings to evil.