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Huggermugger laughed, but not one of his hearty laughs–his mind was ill at ease about his wife. But the idea was a new one, of going away from giant-land to a country of pygmies. Could he ever go? Not certainly without his wife–and she would never leave the island. Why should he wish to go away? “To be sure.” he said, “it is rather lonely here–all our kindred dead–nobody to be seen but little ugly dwarfs. And I really like these little sailors, and shall be sorry to part with them. No, here I shall remain, wife and I, and here we shall end our days. We are the last of the giants–let us not desert our native soil.”

Mrs. Huggermugger grew worse and worse. It seemed to be a rapid consumption. No cause could be discovered for her sickness. A dwarf doctor was called in, but he shook his head–he feared he could do nothing. Little Jacket came with the ship’s doctor, and brought some medicines. She took them, but they had no effect. She could not now rise from her bed. Her husband sat by her side all the time. The good-hearted sailors did all they could for her, which was not much. Even Zebedee Nabbum’s feelings were touched. He told her Yankee stories, and tales of wild beasts–of elephants, not bigger than one of her pigs–of lions and bears as small as lapdogs–of birds not larger than one of their flies. All did what they could to lessen her sufferings. “To think,” said Zebedee, “aint it curious–who’d a thought that great powerful critter could ever get sick and waste away like this!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE SORROWS OF HUGGERMUGGER.

At last, one morning while the sailors were lounging about on the beach, they saw the great Huggermugger coming along, his head bent low, and the great tears streaming down his face. They all ran up to him. He sat, or rather threw himself down on the ground. “My dear little friends,” said he, “it’s all over. I never shall see my poor wife again–never again–never again–I am the last of the Huggermuggers. She is gone. And as for me–I care not now whither I go. I can never stay here–not here–it will be too lonely. Let me go and bury my poor wife, and then farewell to giant-land! I will go with you, if you will take me!”

They were all much grieved. They took Huggermugger’s great hands, as he sat there, like a great wrecked and stranded ship, swayed to and fro by the waves and surges of his grief, and their tears mingled with his. He took them into his arms, the great Huggermugger, and kissed them. “You are the only friends left me now,” he said, “take me with you from this lonely place. She who was so dear to me is gone to the great Unknown, as on a boundless ocean; and this great sea which lies before us is to me like it. Whether I live or die, it is all one–take me with you. I am helpless now as a child!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

HUGGERMUGGER LEAVES HIS ISLAND

Zebedee Nabbum could not help thinking how easily he had obtained permission of his giant. There was nothing to do but to make room for him in the ship, and lay in a stock of those articles of foods which the giant was accustomed to eat, sufficient for a long voyage.

Huggermugger laid his wife in a grave by the sea-shore, and covered it over with the beautiful large shells which she so loved. He then went home, opened the secret door in the wall, took out the ancient manuscript, tied a heavy stone to it, and sunk it in a deep well under the rocks, into which he also threw the key of his house, after having taken everything he needed for his voyage, and locked the doors.