a more commodious and appropriate dwelling for the
climate and the people could not possibly be devised. It was cool, free
to admit the air, scrupulously clean, and elevated above the dampness
and impurities of the ground.

But now to sketch the inmates; and here I claim for my tried servitor
and faithful valet Kory-Kory the precedence of a first description. As
his character will be gradually unfolded in the course of my narrative,
I shall for the present content myself with delineating his personal
appearance. Kory-Kory, though the most devoted and best natured
serving-man in the world, was, alas! a hideous object to look upon. He
was some twenty-five years of age, and about six feet in height, robust
and well made, and of the most extraordinary aspect. His head was
carefully shaven with the exception of two circular spots, about the
size of a dollar, near the top of the cranium, where the hair, permitted
to grow of an amazing length, was twisted up in two prominent knots,
that gave him the appearance of being decorated with a pair of horns.
His beard, plucked out by the root from every other part of his face,
was suffered to droop in hairy pendants, two of which garnished his
under lip, and an equal number hung from the extremity of his chin.

Kory-Kory, with a view of improving the handiwork of nature, and
perhaps prompted by a desire to add to the engaging expression of
his countenance, had seen fit to embellish his face with three broad
longitudinal stripes of tattooing, which, like those country roads that
go straight forward in defiance of all obstacles, crossed his nasal
organ, descended into the hollow of his eyes, and even skirted the
borders of his mouth. Each completely spanned his physiognomy; one
extending in a line with his eyes, another crossing the face in the
vicinity of the nose, and the third sweeping along his lips from ear
to ear. His countenance thus triply hooped, as it were, with tattooing,
always reminded me of those unhappy wretches whom I have sometimes
observed gazing out sentimentally from behind the grated bars of a
prison window; whilst the entire body of my savage valet, covered all
over with representations of birds and fishes, and a variety of most
unaccountable-looking creatures, suggested to me the idea of a pictorial
museum of natural history, or an illustrated copy of 'Goldsmith's
Animated Nature.'

But it seems really heartless in me to write thus of the poor islander,
when I