righteous existence led by these dwellers on remote Tristan da Cunha:
Governor Glass informed me that the last time they had ascended the mountain after goats, one of the party got too close to the precipice and fell down several hundred feet. They found the corpse next day in a miserably mangled state. They interred it in the garden near their settlement and placed at the head of the grave a board with his name and age, together with an account of the accident which caused his death, and the remark that it happened on a Sunday, a dreadful warning to Sabbath-breakers. The people all say they will nevermore ascend the mountain on that sacred day. Indeed, from all I have seen of them, they pay every respect to the duties of religion that lies in their power.
My clothes beginning to wear out, my kind host, who was an excellent tailor, made me a pair of trousers consisting of sail cloth and the rear of dried goat's skin, the hair outside, which they all assured me would be very convenient in sliding down the mountains. I laughed heartily when I first sported this Robinson Crusoe habiliment. "Never mind how you look, sir," said my kind host, "His Majesty himself, God bless him, if he had been left here as you were, could look no better."
Governor William Glass ruled over the island for thirty-five years, until his death in 1853. By that time the population had increased to a hundred souls, and a flourishing trade was carried on in provisioning the fleet of American whalers out of New Bedford and Nantucket which cruised in those