It was long before Loftus Vaughan ascended the mountain to ascertain the fate of the unfortunate negro, his ci-devant slave. When, stimulated by curiosity, and, perhaps, a motive still stronger--he, at length, climbed to the top of the Jumbe rock, his hopes and expectations were alike confirmed. A skeleton, picked clean by the John-crows, hung suspended to the stem of the tree!
A rusty chain, warped around the bones, kept the skeleton in place.
Loftus Vaughan had no inclination to dwell long upon the spot. To him the sight was fearful. One glance, and he hurried away; but far more fearful--far more terrifying--was that which he saw, or fancied he saw, in passing homeward down the forest path--either the ghost of the myal-man, or the man himself!
Volume One, Chapter III.
A JAMAICA DEJEUNER.
On a tranquil morning in the fair month of May--fair in Jamaica, as elsewhere on the earth--a large bell ringing in the great hall of Mount Welcome announ
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