the time when the savages would take us forth to
die. But these changes took place very gradually, and were mingled
sometimes with brighter thoughts; for there were times when we sat, in
that dark cavern on our ledge of rock, and conversed almost pleasantly
about the past until we well-nigh forgot the dreary present. But we
seldom ventured to touch upon the future.

A few decayed leaves and boughs formed our bed, and a scanty supply of
yams and taro, brought to us once a day, constituted our food.

"Well, Ralph, how have you slept?" said Jack in a listless tone on
rising one morning from his humble couch. "Were you much disturbed by
the wind last night?"

"No," said I. "I dreamed of home all night, and I thought that my
mother smiled upon me and beckoned me to go to her; but I could not, for
I was chained."

"And I dreamed too," said Peterkin; "but it was of our happy home on the
Coral Island. I thought we were swimming in the Water Garden. Then the
savages gave a yell, and we were immediately in the cave at Spouting
Cliff, which, somehow or other changed into this gloomy cavern; and I
awoke to find it true."

Peterkin's tone was so much altered by the depressing influence of his
long imprisonment that, had I not known it was he who spoke, I should
scarcely have recognised it, so sad was it, and so unlike to the merry,
cheerful voice we had been accustomed to hear. I pondered this much,
and thought of the terrible decline of happiness that may come on human
beings in so short a time; how bright the sunshine in the sky at one
time, and in a short space bow dark the overshadowing cloud! I had no
doubt that the Bible would have given me much light and comfort on this
subject if I had possessed one, and I once more had occasion to regret
deeply having neglected to store my memory with its consoling truths.

While I meditated thus, Peterkin again broke the silence of the cave by
saying, in a melancholy tone, "Oh, I wonder if we shall ever see our
dear island more!"

His voice trembled, and covering his face with both hands, he bent down
his head and wept. It was an unusual sight for me to see our once
joyous companion in tears, and I felt a burning desire to comfort him;
but, alas! what could I say? I could hold out no hope; and although I
essayed twice to speak, the words refused to pass my lips. While I
hesitated Jack sat down beside him and whispered a few words in his ear,
while Peterkin threw himself