‘Binding nature fast in fate, Left free the human will;’ certainly—yes.” “Please to explain yourself, Mr. Bolling,” said the widow, while India gazed on in languid amusement. Uncle Billy wiped his forehead, and said, “Why I don’t think ladies understand these grave theological matters.” “No, but you can enlighten us, Mr. Bolling.” “You see these lines comprise the profoundest problems of philosophy—so profound as to perplex the understandings of the greatest scholars and philosophers that have ever lived; so profound, in fact, as to be quite unintelligible even to me—yet so simple as to be easily comprehended by the narrowest intellect—so simple as to be clear even to you, or to Fly here.” This was said of a small boy who at that instant appeared with a basket of oranges. “Fly, do you know what your master William is talking about?” “Yes, ma’am; politics.” “Exactly,” smiled Valeria; “go on, Mr. Bolling.” “_Hem!_ Observe, Mrs. Vivian, that there is an analogy all through nature—physical, mental, moral, spiritual.” “Yes. Fly, listen—what is he talking about now?” “Physic and sparrits, ma’am.” “That is right. Pray go on, Mr. Bolling.” “Yes; permit me to seat myself.” Uncle Billy let himself cautiously down upon the green turf. Valeria gave her hand to India, who stepped out upon the terrace and seated herself. Mrs. Vivian sank down near her. Oriole placed herself by her mistress, with the plume fan. Fly stood a short distance off, with his basket of oranges. The tall rose-trees, blown by the breeze, shed coolness and fragrance over the party. The beautiful variegated lawn, with its groves, ponds, and parterres, stretched out before them; and below it flowed on, between its banks of purple shadow, the limpid Pearl, with the evening light fast fading from its white bosom. “Now, then, Mr. Bolling!” “Now, then, Mrs. Vivian! I said that there was an analogy running through the universe of nature; thus, the centripetal and centrifugal forces, that modify each other’s power, and regulate the motions of the planetary systems, correspond exactly to predestination and free will”— “Do you understand him _now_, Fly?” “No, ma’am; Marse Billy’s too deep for me now.” “And for me too, Fly; put down your basket now, and go, Fly. I dislike to see a poor child tiring himself, first upon one foot, and then upon the other; it puts me ill at ease.” “Yes, go! you sickly little wretch, you! I wonder how you think the ladies like to have such an ugly little attenuated black shrimp as you are about them; and I’m astonished at the gardener for presuming to send you here. Be off with you, and never show your face again,” said Master Billy, growing very red in the face with zeal and gallantry. Little Fly looked first surprised and grieved, and then penitent on the score of his sickness and deformity, and set down his basket and turned to go.