ed very uneasy all the time I was speaking; and at length, after
a pause, he looked me in the face with a hardened expression, and said,
"There's no pardon for me--I know it."

"That cannot be," I said; "I do not believe it."

"No," he continued, "there's no pardon for me. I have known that for
fourteen years." I inwardly resolved to get this dreadful secret from
him, which was driving him to such evident desperation. A few days
afterwards an opportunity occurred, and I pressed upon him for his own
sake to tell me, or some one else, what had happened fourteen years ago;
and what special communication he had had with another world.

"Oh," he said, "I never told anybody; but I would as soon tell you as
any one else. I had a dream once---do you ever have dreams? I have many
things told me in dreams." Then he was silent; but I was more curious
than ever now, and begged him to tell me what had happened. At last he
began, "I dreamt that I was walking along a broad smooth road, where
everything was most lovely; the weather was fine, and the scenery grand;
there were beautiful gardens, churches, chapels, theatres, houses, and
indeed everything you could think of. The people all seemed to be
delighting in it, and as though they were out for a holiday. Some were
walking, some singing, some dancing, and in one way or the other they
all appeared to be enjoying themselves beyond bounds. Seeing a workman
in a field close by, I called to him, and asked 'Where does this road
lead to?' He answered, 'To hell, straight on; you cannot miss!' 'Hell!'
I was surprised; 'Hell,' I said to myself, 'this is very different to
what I thought. Is the way to hell as pleasant as this? and are people
so unconcerned about it?' I was amazed; but though the man told me this
pleasant road led to hell, I did not stop; I went on and on, seemingly
as pleased as others were. However, it did not continue like this long,
for soon I came to a rough part, all up and down, where the atmosphere
was thick and sulphury, and it was almost dark. I did not like it, and
wished very much to get out of the place, but I could not.

"Seeing some people in the distance, I went near to ask them the way
out. They were busy with long rakes raking cinders about on the dry
ground, and would not answer my urgent inquiries. As I approached them I
saw that they did not look like 'humans,' and that every now and then
fire appeared from under ground, over which they raked cinders to k