tions of the obscure are manifold. There was one on the summit
of that hill. The child took a step, then another; he ascended, wishing
all the while to descend; and approached, wishing all the while to
retreat.

Bold, yet trembling, he went close up to survey the spectre.

When he got close under the gibbet, he looked up and examined it.

The spectre was tarred; here and there it shone. The child distinguished
the face. It was coated over with pitch; and this mask, which appeared
viscous and sticky, varied its aspect with the night shadows. The child
saw the mouth, which was a hole; the nose, which was a hole; the eyes,
which were holes. The body was wrapped, and apparently corded up, in
coarse canvas, soaked in naphtha. The canvas was mouldy and torn. A knee
protruded through it. A rent disclosed the ribs--partly corpse, partly
skeleton. The face was the colour of earth; slugs, wandering over it,
had traced across it vague ribbons of silver. The canvas, glued to the
bones, showed in reliefs like the robe of a statue. The skull, cracked
and fractured, gaped like a rotten fruit. The teeth were still human,
for they retained a laugh. The remains of a cry seemed to murmur in the
open mouth. There were a few hairs of beard on the cheek. The inclined
head had an air of attention.

Some repairs had recently been done; the face had been tarred afresh, as
well as the ribs and the knee which protruded from the canvas. The feet
hung out below.

Just underneath, in the grass, were two shoes, which snow and rain had
rendered shapeless. These shoes had fallen from the dead man.

The barefooted child looked at the shoes.

The wind, which had become more and more restless, was now and then
interrupted by those pauses which foretell the approach of a storm. For
the last few minutes it had altogether ceased to blow. The corpse no
longer stirred; the chain was as motionless as a plumb line.

Like all newcomers into life, and taking into account the peculiar
influences of his fate, the child no doubt felt within him that
awakening of ideas characteristic of early years, which endeavours to
open the brain, and which resembles the pecking of the young bird in the
egg. But all that there was in his little consciousness just then was
resolved into stupor. Excess of sensation has the effect of too much
oil, and ends by putting out thought. A man would have put himself
questions; the child put himself none--he only looked.

The tar ga