awful or supernatural influence. Even Peterkin's voice, usually so
quick and lively on all occasions, was hushed now; for there was a
dreariness about this silent, lonely, uninhabited cottage,--so strange in
its appearance, so far away from the usual dwellings of man, so old,
decayed, and deserted in its aspect,--that fell upon our spirits like a
thick cloud, and blotted out as with a pall the cheerful sunshine that
had filled us since the commencement of our tour round the island.

The hut or cottage was rude and simple in its construction. It was not
more than twelve feet long by ten feet broad, and about seven or eight
feet high. It had one window, or rather a small frame in which a window
might, perhaps, once have been, but which was now empty. The door was
exceedingly low, and formed of rough boards, and the roof was covered
with broad cocoa-nut and plantain leaves. But every part of it was in a
state of the utmost decay. Moss and green matter grew in spots all over
it. The woodwork was quite perforated with holes; the roof had nearly
fallen in, and appeared to be prevented from doing so altogether by the
thick matting of creeping-plants and the interlaced branches which years
of neglect had allowed to cover it almost entirely; while the thick,
luxuriant branches of the bread-fruit and other trees spread above it,
and flung a deep, sombre shadow over the spot, as if to guard it from the
heat and the light of day. We conversed long and in whispers about this
strange habitation ere we ventured to approach it; and when at length we
did so it was, at least on my part, with feelings of awe.

At first Jack endeavoured to peep in at the window, but from the deep
shadow of the trees already mentioned, and the gloom within, he could not
clearly discern objects; so we lifted the latch and pushed open the door.
We observed that the latch was made of iron, and almost eaten away with
rust. In the like condition were also the hinges, which creaked as the
door swung back. On entering, we stood still and gazed around us, while
we were much impressed with the dreary stillness of the room. But what
we saw there surprised and shocked us not a little. There was no
furniture in the apartment save a little wooden stool and an iron pot,
the latter almost eaten through with rust. In the corner farthest from
the door was a low bedstead, on which lay two skeletons, imbedded in a
little heap of dry dust. With beating hearts we