awakening of ideas characteristic of early years, which endeavours to

open the brain, and which resembles the pecking of the young bird in the

egg. But all that there was in his little consciousness just then was

resolved into stupor. Excess of sensation has the effect of too much

oil, and ends by putting out thought. A man would have put himself

questions; the child put himself none--he only looked.

The tar gave the face a wet appearance; drops of pitch, congealed in

what had once been the eyes, produced the effect of tears. However,

thanks to the pitch, the ravage of death, if not annulled, was visibly

slackened and reduced to the least possible decay. That which was before

the child was a thing of which care was taken: the man was evidently

precious. They had not cared to keep him alive, but they cared to keep

him dead.

The gibbet was old, worm-eaten, although strong, and had been in use

many years.

It was an immemorial custom in England to tar smugglers. They were

hanged on the seaboard, coated over with pitch and left swinging.

Examples must be made in public, and tarred examples last longest. The

tar was mercy: by renewing it they were spared making too many fresh

examples. They placed gibbets from point to point along the coast, as

nowadays they do beacons. The hanged man did duty as a lantern. After

his fashion, he guided his comrades, the smugglers. The smugglers from

far out at sea perceived the gibbets. There is one, first warning;

another, second warning. It did not stop smuggling; but public order is

The Man Who Laughs