more complete--the
people had seen one of their own number, as they supposed, free the
prisoner and murder their king. Soon there came a howl, and some
started in pursuit; but--there was the body of the king, and the stones
were hot and waiting! There was no longer authority! Our pursuers fell
off, one by one, and the others, thus discouraged, gave up the chase.
We ran to the shore, found a boat, and put out to sea.

We are free--we two; but to what purpose? We have no idea of the
direction of the land; we are without food; we dare not return to our
friends, for only in the desperate hope of our finding land can there
be the least encouragement for their rescue. We have rowed all night;
it is now well into the following afternoon; we have had nothing to eat
or drink, and we are beginning to suffer; we both are naked and the sun
seemingly will burn us up. I therefore make this record with material
which I had been prudent to provide for such an emergency, and I shall
now give it to the sea, with such earnest prayers for its discovery as
can come only from a most unhappy human being in a desperate extremity.

The Monster-Maker

A young man of refined appearance, but evidently suffering great mental
distress, presented himself one morning at the residence of a singular
old man, who was known as a surgeon of remarkable skill. The house was
a queer and primitive brick affair, entirely out of date, and tolerable
only in the decayed part of the city in which it stood. It was large,
gloomy, and dark, and had long corridors and dismal rooms; and it was
absurdly large for the small family--man and wife--that occupied it.
The house described, the man is portrayed--but not the woman. He could
be agreeable on occasion, but, for all that, he was but animated
mystery. His wife was weak, wan, reticent, evidently miserable, and
possibly living a life of dread or horror--perhaps witness of repulsive
things, subject of anxieties, and victim of fear and tyranny; but there
is a great deal of guessing in these assumptions. He was about
sixty-five years of age and she about forty. He was lean, tall, and
bald, with thin, smooth-shaven face, and very keen eyes; kept always at
home, and was slovenly. The man was strong, the woman weak; he
dominated, she suffered.

Although he was a surgeon of rare skill, his practice was almost
nothing, for it was a rare occurrence that the few who knew of his
great ability were brave enough to penet