led 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.

"Against my will and sober reason, dear Ella, I must own I have.
Perchance, however, the feeling was only called up by a train of
melancholy meditations. While sitting there to-night, gazing upon
the many bounding forms--some full of beauty and grace, and some of
strength--noting their joyous faces, and listening occasionally to the
lightsome jest, and merry, ringing laugh--I could not avoid contrasting
with the present the time when I was as happy and full full of mirth as
they. I pictured to myself how they would stare and shudder and draw
away from me, did they know my hand was stained with the blood of my
own kin. Then I began, involuntarily as it were, to picture to myself
the fate of each; and they came up before me in the form of a vision,
(though if such, it was a waking one) but in regular order; and I saw
them pass on one after another--some gliding smoothly down the stream of
time to old age--some wretched and crippled, groping their way along
over barren wastes, without water or food, though nearly dying for the
want of both--some wading through streams of blood, with fierce and
angry looks--and some with pale faces, red eyes, and hollow cheeks,
roving amid coffins, sepulchres and bones; but of all, the very fewest
number happy."

"Oh! it was an awful vision!" exclaimed Ella, with a shudder.

"It was awful enough," rejoined Algernon; "and despite of me, it made me
more and more sad as I thought upon it. Could it indeed be a dream? But
no! I was--seemingly at least--as wide awake and conscious as at the
present moment. I saw the dance going on as ever--I saw the merry
smiles, and heard the jest and laugh as before. Could it be some strange
hallucination of the brain--some wild imagining--caused by my previous
exercise and over heat? I pondered upon it long and seriously, but could
not determine. Suddenly--I know not how nor why--th