anxiety around him. It was a moment of
perfect stillness: the island slept in sunshine, and even the waves had
ceased to break over the opposing rocks. A thousand strange and singular
thoughts rushed into his mind, but his first purpose was ever uppermost;
and at length, unfolding his girdle of skin, he tied the tough cincture
round the chest, and, exerting all his powers, dragged his mysterious
waif into the nearest wood.

But during this operation the top fell off, and revealed the neatest
collection of little packages that ever pleased the eye of the admirer
of spruce arrangement. Popanilla took up packets upon all possible
subjects; smelt them, but they were not savory; he was sorely puzzled.
At last, he lighted on a slender volume bound in brown calf, which,
with the confined but sensual notions of a savage, he mistook for
gingerbread, at least. It was 'The Universal Linguist, by Mr. Hamilton;
or, the Art of Dreaming in Languages.'

No sooner had Popanilla passed that well-formed nose, which had been so
often admired by the lady whose lock of hair he had unfortunately lost,
a few times over a few pages of the Hamiltonian System than he sank
upon his bed of flowers, and, in spite of his curiosity, was instantly
overcome by a profound slumber. But his slumber, though deep, was not
peaceful, and he was the actor in an agitating drama.

He found himself alone in a gay and glorious garden. In the centre of it
grew a pomegranate tree of prodigious size; its top was lost in the sky,
and its innumerable branches sprang out in all directions, covered with
large fruit of a rich golden hue. Beautiful birds were perched upon all
parts of the tree, and chanted with perpetual melody the beauties of
their bower. Tempted by the delicious sight, Popanilla stretched forward
his ready hand to pluck; but no sooner had he grasped the fruit than the
music immediately ceased, the birds rushed away, the sky darkened,
the tree fell under the wind, the garden vanished, and Popanilla found
himself in the midst of a raging sea, buffeting the waves.

He would certainly have been drowned had he not been immediately
swallowed up by the huge monster which had not only been the occasion
of the storm of yesterday, but, ah! most unhappy business! been the
occasion also of his losing that lock of hair.

Ere he could congratulate himself on his escape he found fresh cause for
anxiety, for he perceived that he was no longer alone. No friends were