But one day it so happened that he was light-headed and greatly excited, holding a conversation. His eye was flashing, and he spoke in bursts, and then stopped a while and seemed to be listening in irritation to some arguments with which he did not agree. The enthusiast was building a prison in the air. A prison with a farm, a school, and a manufactory attached. Here were to be combined the good points of every system, and others of his own. “Yes,” said he, in answer to his imaginary companion, “there shall be both separation and silence for those whose moral case it suits--for all, perhaps, at first--but not for all always. Away with your Morrison's pill-system; your childish monotony of moral treatment in cases varying and sometimes opposed. “Yes, but I would. I would allow a degree of intercourse between such as were disposed to confirm each other in good. Watch them? why, of course--and closely, too. “Intelligent labor for every creature in the place. No tickets-of-leave to let the hypocritical or self-deceiving ones loose upon the world. “No, I test their repentance first with a little liberty. “How? Why fly them with a string before I let them fly free! “Occupation provided outside the prison-gates; instead of ticket-of-leave let the candidate work there on parole and come into the prison at night. “Some will break parole and run away? All the better. Then you know their real character. Telegraph them. You began by photographing them--send their likenesses to every town--catch them--cell them. “Indeed! And pray what would these same men have done had you given them the ticket-of-leave instead? “By the present plan your pseudo-convert commits a dozen crimes before his hypocrisy is suspected; by ours a single offense warns you and arms you against him. “Systems avail less than is supposed. For good or ill all depends on your men--not your machinery. “We have got rid of the old patch that rotted our new garment. When I first was chaplain of a jail--” His mind had gone forward some years. “Then we were mad--thought a new system could be worked by men of the past, by jailers and turnkeys belonging to the dark and brutal age that came before ours. “Those dark days are passed. Now we have really a governor and warders instead of jailers and turnkeys. The nation has discovered these are high offices, not mean ones. “Yes, Lepel, yes! Our officers are men picked out of all England for intelligence and humanity. They co-operate with me. Our jail is one of the nation's eyes--it is a school, thank Heaven, it is not a dungeon!--I am in bed!” With these last words he had come to himself, and oh, the sad contrast! Butcherly blockheads in these high places, and himself lying sick and powerless, unable to lift a hand for the cause he loved.