ing over my couch, whilst the regimental surgeon, with a
candle in his hand, stood nigh, the light feebly reflected on the
whitewashed walls of the barrack-room.

Another circumstance connected with my infancy, and I have done. I need
offer no apology for relating it, as it subsequently exercised
considerable influence over my pursuits. We were, if I remember right,
in the vicinity of a place called Hythe, in Kent. One sweet evening, in
the latter part of summer, our mother took her two little boys by the
hand, for a wander about the fields. In the course of our stroll we came
to the village church; an old, gray-headed sexton stood in the porch,
who, perceiving that we were strangers, invited us to enter. We were
presently in the interior, wandering about the aisles, looking on the
walls, and inspecting the monuments of the notable dead. I can scarcely
state what we saw; how should I? I was a child not yet four years old,
and yet I think I remember the evening sun streaming in through a stained
window upon the dingy mahogany pulpit, and flinging a rich lustre upon
the faded tints of an ancient banner. And now once more we were outside
the building, where, against the wall, stood a low-eaved pent-house, into
which we looked. It was half filled with substances of some kind, which
at first looked like large gray stones. The greater part were lying in
layers; some, however, were seen in confused and mouldering heaps, and
two or three, which had perhaps rolled down from the rest, lay separately
on the floor. 'Skulls, madam,' said the sexton; 'skulls of the old
Danes! Long ago they came pirating into these parts; and then there
chanced a mighty shipwreck, for God was angry with them, and He sunk
them; and their skulls, as they came ashore, were placed here as a
memorial. There were many more when I was young, but now they are fast
disappearing. Some of them must have belonged to strange fellows, madam.
Only see that one; why, the two young gentry can scarcely lift it!' And,
indeed, my brother and myself had entered the Golgotha, and commenced
handling these grim relics of mortality. One enormous skull, lying in a
corner, had fixed our attention, and we had drawn it forth. Spirit of
eld, what a skull was yon!

{picture:'Skulls, madam,' said the sexton; 'skulls of the old Danes.':
page18.jpg}

I still seem to see it, the huge grim thing; many of the others were
large, strikingly so, and appeared fully to just