“Then you consider free agency only a chance game, depending, as it were, upon the throw of a die?” observed Ella, inquiringly.

“I believe this much of free agency, that a train of circumstances often forces some to evil and others to good; and that we should look upon the former, in many cases—­mind I do not say all—­as unfortunate rather than criminal—­with pity rather than scorn; and so endeavor to reclaim them.  Were this doctrine more practiced by Christians—­by those whom the world terms good, (but whom circumstances alone have made better than their fellows,) there would be far less of sin, misery, and crime abounding for them to deplore.  Let the creed of churches only be to ameliorate the condition of the poor, relieve the distressed, remove temptations from youth, encourage the virtuous, and endeavor, by gently means, to reclaim the erring—­and the holy design of Him who died to save would nobly progress, prisons would be turned into asylums, and scaffolds be things known only by tradition.”

Algernon spoke with an easy, earnest eloquence, and a force of emphasis, that made each word tell with proper effect upon his fair hearer.  To Ella the ideas he advanced were, many of them, entirely new; and she mused thoughtfully upon them, as they rode along, without reply; while he, becoming warm upon a subject that evidently occupied no inferior place in his mind, went on to speak of the wrongs and abuses which society in general heaped upon the unfortunate, as he termed them—­contrasted the charity of professing Christians of the eighteenth century with that of Christ himself—­and pointed out what he considered the most effectual means of remedy.  To show that a train of circumstances would frequently force persons against their own will and reason to be what society terms criminal, he referred to himself, and his own so far eventful destiny; and Ella could not but admit to herself, that, in his case at least, his arguments were well grounded, and she shaped her replies accordingly.

Thus conversing, they continued upon their course, until they came to the brow of a steep descent, down which the path ran in a zigzag manner, through a dark, gloomy ravine, now rendered intensely so to our travelers, by the hour, their thoughts, the wildness of the scenery around, and the dense growth of cedars covering the hollow, whose untrimmed branches, growing even to the ground, overreached and partly obstructed their way.  By this time only one or two stars were visible in the heavens; and they shone with pale, faint gleams; while in the east the beautiful gray and crimson tints of Aurora announced that day was already breaking on the slumbering world.  Drawing rein, Algernon and Ella paused as if to contemplate the scene.  Below and around them each object presented that misty, indistinct appearance, which leaves the imagination power to give it either a pleasing or hideous shape.  In the immediate vicinity, the country was uneven; rocky, and covered with cedars; but far off to the right could be discerned the even surface of the cane-brake, previously mentioned, now stretching away in the distance like the unruffled bosom of some beautiful lake.  A light breeze slightly rustled the leaves of the trees, among whose branches an occasional songster piped forth his morning lay of rejoicing.