"In this grand organ of man--where all things are strange and incomprehensible--to me the combination of the physical and mental is strangest of all. The soul and the body are united and yet divided. Each is distinct from and acts without the other at times, and yet both act in concert with a wonderful power. The soul plans and the body executes. The body exercises the soul--the soul the body. The one is visible--the other invisible; the one is mortal--the other immortal. Now why do they act together here? Why was not each placed in its separate sphere of action? Again: What is the soul? Men tell us it is a spirit. What is a spirit? An invisible something that never dies. Who can comprehend it? None. Whither does it go when separated forever from the body? None can answer, save in language of Scripture: 'It returns to God who gave it.'" "I have never heard the proposition advanced by another," continued Algernon, after another slight pause, "but I have sometimes thought myself, that the soul departs from the body, for a brief season, and wanders at will among scenes either near or remote, and returns with its impressions, either clouded or clear, to communicate them to the corporeal or not, as the case may be: hence dreams or visions, and strong impressions when we wake, that something bright and good has refreshed our sleep, or something dark and evil has made it troubled and feverish. Again I have sometimes thought that this soul--this invisible and immortal something within us--has power at times to look into the future, and see events about to transpire; which events being sometimes of a dark and terrible nature, leave upon it like impressions; and hence gloomy and melancholy forebodings. This may be all sophistry--as much of our better reasoning on things we know nothing about often is--but if it be true, then may I trust to account for my present sadness." "Have you really, then, sad forebodings?" inquired Ella, quickly and earnestly.