This was a narrow little view of wide and terrible consequences; it was infinitesimal egotism--the spirit and essence of commonplace. His inclinations were good, but feeble--he was commonplace. His heart was good, but tepid--he was commonplace. Had he loved the New Testament and the Saviour of mankind, he would have fought Hawes tooth and nail; he could not have helped it. But he did not love either; he only liked them--he was commonplace. When the thief cursed this man, he was guilty of an extravagance as well as a crime; the man was not worth cursing--he was commonplace. The new chaplain arrived soon after these events. The new chaplain was accompanied by his friend, the Rev. James Lepel, chaplain of a jail in the north of England. After five years' unremitting duty he was now enjoying a week's leave of absence. The three clergymen visited the cells. Mr. Lepel cross-examined several prisoners. The new chaplain spoke little, but seemed observant, and once or twice made a note. Now it so happened that almost the last cell they entered was Tom Robinson's. They found him sitting all of a heap in a corner, moody and sullen. At sight of three black coats and white ties the thief opened his eyes, and with a sort of repugnance turned his back on the intruders. “Come, my lad,” said the turnkey sternly, “no tricks, if you please. Turn round,” cried he savagely, “and make your bow to the gentlemen.” Robinson wheeled round with flashing eyes, and checking an evident desire to dash at them, instantly made a bow so very low, so very obsequious, and, by a furtive expression, so contemptuous, that Mr. Lepel colored with indignation and moved toward the door in silence. The turnkey muttered, “He has been very strange this few days past. Mr. Fry thinks he is hardly safe.” Then, turning to the new chaplain, the man, whose name was Evans, said, “Better not go into his cell, sir, without one of us with you.” “What is the matter with him?” inquired the reverend gentleman. “Oh, I don't know as there is anything the matter with him; only he has been disciplined once or twice, and it goes down the wrong way with some of them at first starting. Governor says he will have to be put in the dark cell if he does not get better.” “The dark cell? hum! Pray what is the effect of the dark cell on a prisoner?” “Well, sir, it cows them more than anything.” “Where are your dark cells?” “They are down below, sir. You can look at them after the kitchen.” “I must go into the town,” said Mr. Lepel, looking at his watch. “I promised to dine with my relations at three o'clock.” “Come and see the oubliettes first. We have seen everything else.” “With all my heart!” They descended below the ground-floor, and then Evans unlocked a massive tight-fitting door opening upon what appeared to be a black substance; this was, however, no substance--but vacancy without any degree of light. The light crossing the threshold from the open door seemed to cut a slice out of it.