Strolling on, we turned a sweep of the road, when the doctor gave a
start; and no wonder. Right before us, in the grove, was a block of
houses: regular square frames, boarded over, furnished with windows
and doorways, and two stories high. We ran up and found them fast
going to decay: very dingy, and here and there covered with moss; no
sashes, no doors; and on one side, the entire block had settled down
nearly a foot. On going into the basement we looked clean up through
the unbearded timbers to the roof; where rays of light, glimmering
through many a chink, illuminated the cobwebs which swung all round.
The whole interior was dark and close. Burrowing among some old mats
in one corner, like a parcel of gipsies in a ruin, were a few
vagabond natives. They had their dwelling here.
Curious to know who on earth could have been thus trying to improve
the value of real estate in Partoowye, we made inquiries; and learned
that some years previous the block had been thrown up by a veritable
Yankee (one might have known that), a house-carpenter by trade, and a
bold, enterprising fellow by nature.
Put ashore from his ship, sick, he first went to work and got well;
then sallied out with chisel and plane, and made himself generally
useful.
