it is too horrible! . . . This was
the penalty for a harmless act, forbidden by a senseless law, which
Elatreus--a most respectable man for an idolater--had broken in mere
innocent absence of mind.

Alas! among such a people, how could I ever hope, alone and unaided, to
effect any truly regenerating work?

Yet I was not wholly discouraged; indeed, my _infatuation_ for Doto made
me overlook much profligate behaviour that I do not care to mention in a
tract which may fall into the hands of the young. One other example of
the native barbarity, however, I must narrate.

A respected couple in the vicinity had long been childless. At length
their wishes were crowned with success, and a little baby girl was born
to them. But the priest, who had curious ideas of his own, insisted on
consulting, as to this child, a certain witch, a woman who dwelt apart in
a cave where there was a sulphurous hot-water spring, surrounded by
laurel bushes, regarded as sacred by the benighted islanders. This
spring, or the fumes that arose from it, was supposed to confer on the
dweller in the cave the gift of prophecy. She was the servant of
Apollon, and was credited with possessing a spirit of divination. The
woman, after undergoing, or simulating, an epileptic attack, declared, in
rhythmical language, that the babe must not be allowed to live. She
averred that it would "bring destruction on Scheria," the native name for
the island, which I have styled Boothland, in honour of the Salvation
Army. This was enough for the priests, who did not actually slay the
infant, but exposed it on the side of a mountain, where the beasts and
birds were likely to have their way with it.

Now it chanced that I had climbed the hill-top that day to watch for a
sail, for I never quite lost hope of being taken away by some British or
continental vessel. My attendants, for a wonder, were all absent at some
feast--Carneia, I think they called it--of their heathen gods. The time
was early summer; it only wanted a fortnight of the date, as far as I
could reckon, at which I had first been cast on the island, a year
before.

As I descended the hillside, pleased, I must own, by the warm blight
sunlight, the colour of the sea, and the smell of the aromatic
herbs,--pleased, and half forgetful of the horrid heathenism that
surrounded me, I heard a low wail as of an infant. I searched about, in
surprise, and came on a beautiful baby, in rich swaddling bands, wit