ely welcome, for I have become so bored by the monotony
of existence that any pretext for going abroad after nightfall is a
godsend. So after disposing of a heavy dinner, that included six kinds
of wines and liquors, my carriage, as I called it (though it was no more
than a litter), was fetched by Friday and his father; and followed by
the Spaniard, carrying my cloak and perspective glass, I set out for a
little wooded hill that overlooked the beach on which the savages were
encamped.

The dreadful wretches had finished their inhuman feast and were
squatting on the sand, watching one of their number, a comely female,
who was dancing wildly in a circle of strong firelight. The body of
this creature was swathed in veils, which she removed, one after the
other, until she was wholly naked. This degrading spectacle seemed to be
enormously enjoyed by the spectators, who were grouped in the form of a
horseshoe. I observed, also, that they were decorated with feathers and
glass beads, and that, except for these ornaments, were as naked as the
dancer.

My Spaniard, a God fearing man, was greatly shocked by the sight, and my
man Friday, too, was strongly affected; but to my shame I must confess
that I did not share their abhorrence. Yet even my stomach began to
protest when the dancer, darting to one of the canoes, appeared with a
gory head that had been chopped from one of the victims of the feast,
and continued her shocking gyrations, to a most infernal din of
barbarous musical instruments that half a hundred of the wretches were
beating. The Spaniard and Friday urged, in their indignation, that we
discharge our muskets at the unholy crew; but I restrained them from
such an intelligible piece of violence, reflecting that the barbarous
customs of these people might be regarded as their own disaster, and
that I was not called upon to judge their actions, much less to execute
the judgment of heaven upon them. Besides, they were in such numbers
that, had we attacked, we should have been overwhelmed. So, calling for
my litter, I returned to my habitation.

A LINE-O'-TYPE OR TWO

_Hew to the Line, let the quips fall where they may._

An artist friend, back from the Land of Taos, brings word of another
artist who is achieving influence by raising hogs--or "picture buyers,"
as he sardonically calls them. This set us to wondering what had become
of Arthur Dove, one of the first of the Einstein school to exhibit in
this tow