but there was no time for shuddering, for now the savage went about something that completely fascinated my attention, and convinced me that he must indeed be a heathen. going to his heavy grego, or wrapall, or dreadnaught, which he had previously hung on a chair, he fumbled in the pockets, and produced at length a curious little deformed image with a hunch on its back, and exactly the colour of a three days’ old congo baby. remembering the embalmed head, at first i almost thought that this black manikin was a real baby preserved in some similar manner. but seeing that it was not at all limber, and that it glistened a good deal like polished ebony, i concluded that it must be nothing but a wooden idol, which indeed it proved to be. for now the savage goes up to the empty fire-place, and removing the papered fire-board, sets up this little hunch-backed image, like a tenpin, between the andirons. the chimney jambs and all the bricks inside were very sooty, so that i thought this fire-place made a very appropriate little shrine or chapel for his congo idol.