The newcomers looked into it. Mr. Lepel with grim satisfaction, the other with awe and curiosity. “When shall you be back, Lepel?” inquired he thoughtfully. “Oh, before nine o'clock.” “Then perhaps you will both do me the honor to drink a cup of tea with me,” said Mr. Jones, courteously. “With pleasure.” “Good-by, then, for the present,” said the new chaplain. “Why, where are you going?” “In here.” “What, into the dark cell?” “Yes!” “Well!” ejaculated Evans. “You won't stay there long.” “Until you return, Lepel.” “What a fancy!” Mr. Jones looked not a little surprised. The turnkey grinned. The reverend gentleman stepped at once into the cell and was lost to sight. “Do not let me out before eight o'clock,” said his voice, “and you, Lepel, inquire for me as soon as you return, for I feel a little nervous. Now shut the door.” The door was closed on the reverend gentleman, and the little group outside, after looking at one another with a humorous expression, separated, and each went after his own affairs. Evans lingered behind, and took a look at the massy door, behind which for the first time a man had gone voluntarily, and after grave deliberation delivered himself at long intervals of the two following profound reflections: “Well! I'm blest!!” “Well! I'm blowed!!” CHAPTER XIV. MR. LEPEL returned somewhat earlier than he had intended. On entering the jail it so happened that he met the governor, and seized this opportunity of conversing with him. He expressed at once so warm an admiration of the jail and the system pursued in it, that Hawes began to take a fancy to him. They compared notes, and agreed that no system but the separate and silent had a leg to stand on; and as they returned together from visiting the ground-floor cells, Mr. Lepel had the honor of giving a new light to Hawes himself. “If I could have my way the debtors should be in separate cells. I would have but one system in a jail.” Hawes laughed incredulously. “There would be a fine outcry if we treated the debtors the same as we do the rogues.” “Mr. Hawes,” said the other firmly, “an honest man very seldom finds his way into any part of a jail. Extravagant people and tradesmen who have abused the principle of credit, deserve punishment, and above all require discipline and compulsory self-communion to bring them to amend their ways.” “That is right, sir,” cried Hawes, a sudden light breaking on him, “and it certainly is a mistake letting them enjoy themselves.” “And corrupt each other.” Hawes. A prison should be confinement. Lepel. And seclusion from all but profitable company. Hawes. It is not a place of amusement. Lepel. There should be no idle conversation. “And no noise,” put in Hawes hastily. “However, this prison is a model for all the prisons in the land, and I shall feel quite sad when I go back to my duty in Cumberland.” “Cumberland? Why, you are our new chaplain, aren't ye?”