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, with a
gold signet ring tied round its neck. Such an occurrence was not very
unusual, as the natives, like most savages, were in the habit of keeping
down the surplus population, by thus exposing their little ones. The
history of the island was full of legends of exposed children, picked up
by the charitable (there was, oddly enough, no prohibition against this),
and afterwards recognized and welcomed by their families. As any
Englishman would have done, I lifted the dear little thing in my arms,
and, a happy thought occurring to me, carried it off as a present to
Doto, who doted on babies, as all girls do. The gift proved to be the
most welcome that I had ever offered, though Doto, as usual, would not
accept it from my hands, but made me lay it down beside the hearth, which
they regarded as a sacred place. Even if an enemy reached the hearth of
his foe, he would, thenceforth, be quite safe in his house. Doto then
picked up the child, warmed and caressed it, sent for milk for its