IGLIAN
LUX
IN SILT
CMBOURG

8/6
Luxemburgi,
In Instituto Feinaigliano,
Adjudicantibus
Post Examina Publica
Profefsoribus,
Ob Insignes In Lingua Latina
Progrefsus
In Clafse Himo
Premium Hoc Literarium
Tulit
Ingenuus Adolescens
Arthur B. Gibbings
In Semestri hyemale A.Digg
A.D1818
Quod Testor Greg.de Feinaigle.
Dublini.
Sandys
Sculp
the Dea
TIT
THE
NEW ROBINSON CRUSOE.
VOL. I.
الام
5
)

THE NEW
ROBINSON CRUSOE;
AN INSTRUCTIVE AND ENTERTAINING
HISTORY,
FOR THE USE OF
CHILDREN OF BOTH SEXES:
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.
Embellished with Thirty-two beautiful cuts by Bewick.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR JOHN STOCKDALE, PICCADILLY.
1811.
}
{
5
T. Bensley, Printer, Bolt Court, Fleet Street, London.
LIST OF CUTS,
With Directions for placing them.
Page.
1. ROBINSON CRUSOE setting off for Ply-
mouth.
2. Discovery of a ship on fire at sea
3. Crusoe is cast on the rocks...
4. He finds cocoa-nuts.
•
5. Is completely cloathed and equipped-Fron-
tispiece to Vol. I. to face the Title
6. Kills a lama.
7. Asleep in his cave during a storm.
8. Catches a turtle..
9. Domesticated lama.
•
32
54
78
108
•
137
150
179
212
232
245
·
275
30
10. Escapes the effects of the storm..
11. Returus thanks for his escape.
12. Erects a signal of distress
3. Attempts to make butter.
4-1. Endeavours to cut down a tree for a canoe.. 318
VOL.
LIST OF CUTS.
· 3
VOL. II.
15. Terrified at his own foot marks.
16. Rescues a savage from death...
17. On guard with his man Friday.
18. Lets Friday taste lama's milk..
19. Friday scalds himself-a pot of boiling water
20. Friday shewing Crusoe how to make a canoe
Page.
34
41
51
60
84
21. Making a canoe.
95-
22. Crusoe and Friday embark in the canoe-
Frontispiece to Vol. II. to face the Title
23. They free the canoe from a sand-bank
128
21. Crusoe discovers a ship..
143
25. Crusoe and Friday on a raft going to a wreck 155
26. Crusoe contemplating what he saved from the
wreck
185
27. Removing his goods..
•
195
28. Crusoe and Friday going to attack some sa-
yages,
213
murdered.....
29. Friday discovers his own father about to be
30. Crusoe searching a cavern...
228
259
31. Crusoe discovers an English ship.
265
32. They embark for England...
•
298
PREFACE.
1
་
PREFACE.
SOME writers have affirmed that
mankind are all born with the same
dispositions and the same degree of un-
derstanding; and that education, laws,-
and customs, create all the difference
perceivable between man and man. I
confess, I can hardly bring myself to
suppose that education alone produced;
the wide dissimilarity which exists be-
tween the characters of Thersites and
Achilles, or those of Socrates and Any-
tus: at the same time it will ever be an
acknowledged truth, that even he who
is most indebted to Nature will reap
A 4
but
C
8
PREFACE.
but small advantage from her gifts,
unless they are improved by mature
and juicious cultivation
It is unnecessary to undertake a serious
demonstration of a truth universally ad-
mitted in all ages and nations; a truth
confirmed by daily experience, and the
practice of which was the object con-
stantly aimed at by the labours both of
the philosopher and the bulk of man-
kind. The improvement of the latter,
as far as it can be effected by education,
has been more attended to in the present
age than ever it was in any preceding
one. If the endeavour used to this
purpose have not had all the success
that might be expected from them, they
have at least excited the attention and
directed the minds of men towards an
object, the accomplishment of which,
as it is more or less perfect, has ever a
pro-
PREFACE.
Q
2
proportionable effect upon the happi-
ness of families, and consequently upon
the state of society in general.
A great genius of the present age has
contributed, even by his false opinions,
towards the accomplishment of this im-
portant object: for the errors of great
men are remarked, and the discussion
of them frequently leads to the truth
from which they have deviated. Thus
Mr. Rousseau's Emilius will, in spite
of the false opinions advanced in it,
always be a valuable book, both on ac-
count of the important truths which it
contains, and those which it has caused
to be discovered; and it would be un-
just not to attribute to it at least a con-
siderable enlargement in our ideas con-
cerning education.
To free our species, as far as in us
lies, from the ailments and disabilities
A 5
to
1
ΤΟ
PREFACE.
to which Nature subjects them from
their very birth, is a great object, but
certainly not the only one. It is essen-
tial to society that its members be sound
and robust in constitution; but if they
are not, at the same time, honest, just,
and good, they will be of more preju-
dice than advantage to society. Mr.
Rousseau was perfectly sensible of this
truth; he has paid considerable atten-
tion to it; but, if I may be allowed
the assertion, he was frequently de-
ceived both in the nature of social vir-
tue, and the extent to which it should
be practised. While he boldly attacks
the prejudices under which we are en-
slaved from our infancy, he has, on the
other hand, denied, or endeavoured to
render doubtful, many valuable truths,
which constitute our happiness in a
more advanced age. While he meant
to
PREFACE.
I I
to prune away the greedy branches that
impeded the growth of the tree, he
has, though perhaps without intention,
wounded its very roots. Whilst he
wishes to assist Nature, he allows Na-
ture too much; and where he thought
he found her defective, he has not al-
ways been able to find the best means.
of supplying her defects. In a word,
young Emilius is the child of Mr.
Rousseau's fancy, not the child of edu-
cation.
Nevertheless, the following work is
indebted to that of Mr. Rousseau for
the form that it bears. Mr. Campe, the
author of it, expresses himself thus: "I
never read the following passage in the
second volume of Emilius without the
most sensible satisfaction. Nothing upon
earth can be so well calculated to in-
spire one with ardour in the execution
A 6
of
12
PREFACE.
of a plan approved by so great a ge-
nius.
5"
Might there not be found means,"
says Rousseau, "to bring together so
many
lessons of instruction that liescat-
tered in so many books; to apply them
through a single object of a familiar and
not uncommon nature, capable of en-
gaging the imitation, as well as rousing
and fixing the attention even at so ten-
der an age? If one could imagine
situation, in which all the natural wants
of man appear in the clearest light to
the understanding of a child, and in
which the means of satisfying these
wants unfold themselves successively in
the same clear, easy manner, the lively
and natural description of such a state`
should be the first means that I would
use to set his imagination at work.
"I see thine expand already, thou ar
dent
PREFACE.
13
:
dent philosopher. But be not in pain;
we have found such a situation. It is
described, and no disparagement to your
talents, much better than you would
describe it yourself, at least with more
truth and simplicity. Since we must
have books, there is one that furnishes,
in my opinion, the best imagined trea-
tise upon natural education that can
possibly be. This book shall be the firſt
that I will put into the hands of my
Emilius; this singly shall for a long
time compose his whole library, and
indeed shall always hold a distinguished
place there. It shall be the text to
which all our discourses upon natural
science shall serve as a commentary. It
shall be the criterion of our taste and
judgment; and, as long as these re-
main uncorrupted, the reading of it
will always be agreeable to us. Well,
then,
14
PREFACE.
then, what is this wonderful book? Is
it Aristotle, Pliny, Buffon?-No; it is
Robinson Crusoe.
"Robinson Crusoe, alone in his island,
deprived of the assistance of his fellow-
creatures, without* tools of any sort,
yet providing for his safety and subsist-
ence, and even procuring himself a sort
of happiness, presents a subject interest-
ing to every age, and which there might
be a thousand ways of making agree-
able to children. This you see realizes.
the ideal circumstances of the desert
island, which I used at first as a com-
parison. I grant, it is by no means the
state of man as destined for society;
* Mr. Rousseau is mistaken here. 'The Old Ro-
binson Crusoe has plenty of tools and instruments,
which he saves from the wreck of a ship; whereas
the New Robinson Crusoe has nothing but his head
and his hands to depend on for his preservation.
i
nay
PREFACE.
15
nay, probably Emilius might never ex-
périence such a situation; nevertheless,
it is that by which he should estimate
the value of every other condition in
life. The surest way to rise superior to
all prejudice, and to form our judgment
upon the true report of things, is to
place ourselves in the situation of a man.
cut off from all society, and to judge of
every thing as that man must naturally
judge, regard being had at the same
time to his own degree of utility in the
sphere of existence.
"This story, cleared of all its unne-
cessary rubbish, beginning with Ro-
binson's being shipwrecked upon his
island, and ending with the arrival of
the vessel that takes him away, shall
be both the amusement and instruction
of Emilius during the tender
age that I
speak of. I will have his head run
upon
16
PREFACE,
}
upon nothing else but Robinson Crusoe;
he shall talk incessantly about his castle,
his goats, and his plantations. He
shall learn, not from books, but from
things, every single particular necessary
to be known in such a case; he shall
imagine himself to be a Robinson Crusoe,
and dress himself up in skins, with a
great cap on his head, a broad sword
by his side, and, in short, the whole of
the grotesque dress and accoutrements
with which we generally see Robinson
Crusoe's picture represented, except the
umbrella, for he shall have no occasion
for that. I will have him study how
he should proceed if he happened to be
in want of this or that necessary; he
shall examine his hero's conduct, and
try if he has left nothing undone, or if
he went the best way to work about
what he has done; he shall remark
:
where
PREFACE.
17
where he is wrong, and take care not
to fall into the same mistake himself;
for
you need not have the least doubt
but he will be for imitating Robinson
in his whole plan. Nothing, indeed,
can be better calculated to please the
imagination at that calm period of life,
when, if our wants are satisfied, and
our actions unrestrained, we look no
farther for happiness.
"What advantage may not an able
master take of this romantic project in
a child! a project to which he himself
has given birth for the sake of the pro-
fitable fruits that may be reaped from it.
The child, ever busy and eager to make
provision for his island settlement, will
be more ready to learn than the master
to teach. He will desire to know every
thing that is useful, and nothing more;
you
18
PREFACE."
1
}
}
you will have no occasion to spur him
on. The exercise of the natural arts,
for which one man alone is sufficient,
leads to the invention of the arts of in-
dustry, which require the co-operation
of many hands.' />
the
This Passage from Rousseau will ex-
plain, infinitely better than I can,
utility of a book composed upon such
a plan; it now remains to be seen how
far Mr. Campe, the author of the fol-
lowing work, has pursued Mr. Rous-
seau's idea.
The public is pretty generally agreed
not to depend on the report of translators
concerning the works which they trans-
late, especially if their judgment be
favourable to the original: and I be-
lieve this caution is well founded; for
it is no easy matter to decide with im-
partiality
PREFACE.
19
་
partiality where self-opinion has equal
influence with justice in passing the
sentence;
Perhaps some may not think as I do
concerning this work of Mr. Campe's;
particularly, those who are fond of me-
taphysical treatises upon education, will,
no doubt, be disappointed to find no-
thing in the New Robinson Crusoe but
things that are useful, introduced in an
unaffected manner, clearly expressed and
demonstrated without pedantry; they
will be surprised to see children speak
like children, and their instructor as-
sume the simple language of childhood,
in order to make himself understood.
Those who are governed by the spirit of
free thinking will find it strange that
religion is respected and rendered re-
spectable in this work; that God is re-
presented as the mover of all things,
and
20
PREFACE
and the principle to which all our ac-
tions should be referred, as well as the
motives which determine them, and
the sentiments which gave them birth.
These are, no doubt, particularities that
may be remarked: nevertheless, at this
time of day, to think wisely, we must
not always think with philosophers.
"The Old Robinson Crusoe," says
Mr. Campe, in his preface to the original
of this work," independent of its other
defects, is erroneous in one particular
sufficient to destroy every advantage that
this History might produce, which is,
that Robinson Crusoe is provided with
all sorts of European tools and instru-
ments neceffary to procure him many
of those conveniences that belong to
society. Thus the opportunity is lost
of affording the young reader a lively
sense both of the wants of man in a state
of
PREFACE
21
of solitude, and the multiplied happi-
ness-of a social life; another important
reason why I thought proper to depart
from the old History of Robinson
Crusoe. ⠀
"I have, therefore, divided the time
of my New Robinson Crusoe's remain-
ing upon the island into three periods.
In the first hé is all alone and destitute of
any European tool or instrument what-
soever, assisting himself merely by his
hands and invention; in order to shew,
on the one hand, how helpless man
in a state of solitude, and, on the other,
how much reflection and persevering
efforts can contribute to the improve-
ment of our condition. In the second
period, I give him a companion, on pur-
pose to shew how much a man's situa-
17
is
tion may be bettered by taking even
J...
this single step towards society. Lastly,
in
22
PREFACE.
in the third period, a vessel from Europe
is shipwrecked on his island, and gives
him an opportunity thereby of provid-
ing himself with tools and most other
articles necessary in common life, in
order that the young reader may see
how valuable many things are of which
we are accustomed to make very little
account, because we have never expe-
rienced the want of them."
sa vlennu ibuind por
Vedle ut
ei usm zzpiqi9J
મેં ટટ
Thus, far the French Translator's
1addo sdi no. Di
Preface; which containing a very am-
ple explanation of the plan and scope
of the following work, there is little
necessity to offer any thing in addition
to what he has said upon that subject.
200
60.
It only remains for the English Trans-
lator to request the indulgence of the
hes.
4
Public,
T
1 PREFACE23
JA
.
Public,
naccount of the deviations.
which he has taken the liberty to make
from the original. Many passages he
A SZERS
!
has found himself obliged either to omit
entirely, or to throw into a new form,
according as the difference of national
manners and character seemed absolutely
to require it. He hopes, however, that
this liberty has never been used unless
under circumstances of unavoidable ne-
cessity. For the external form of this
little work, it is but just to observe, that
no pains have been spared to embellish
it, and that the addition of
32 hand-
some cuts cannot fail of rendering it.
at once more sprightly and intelligible
to the young reader, for whom it is in-
tended. In effect, these little prints
serve admirably to afford the child a just
conception of the remarkable passages
in a work; and it may, perhaps, be
affirmed,
24
·PRETACE.
རྞ
"affirmed with truth, that no parts, even
of the most interesting stories, make a
stronger or more lasting impression on
the memory, than those which are the
subjects of the cuts.
With these advantages, it is hoped,
The New Robinson Crusoe will find its
way to the studies of the younger class
of both sexes, and afford them at once
Both innocent'entertainment and moral
instruction. !
suit to mne in
Allied no oil bott
daniug ou
-hand to shibbs on vil bes 2.
J
jouge
si gulòbuer le Lili reuse
}
stuɔ sinoe
1
da zol,102m ganer side of
•
iz orta brofioni :Idetion? & o7192
A
{
4 bus des
ཛྫཱ;
{::
THE
t
THE
NEW
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
FIRST EVENING.
A GENTLEMAN, of the name of
Billingsley, resided some years ago at
Twickenham, who, having a pretty large
family, and but a moderate fortune, deter-
mined to undertake himself the care of his
children's education. He proposed, by this
plan, on the one hand, to avoid the enormous
expence of keeping them at what are called
genteel boarding-schools, and, on the other,
Vol. I.
B
to
26
THE NEW
to enjoy the pleasing observation of their
improvement in learning, sense, and good
behaviour. To remark, with silent but at-
tentive eyes, the gradual advance of his
children towards the perfection of reason.
and virtue; to assist, with his advice and in-
struction, their endeavours to become more
learned, honest, and wise; and to have the
happy consciousness, that he should one
day be considered, what all parents ought,
as the instrument and cause of his children's
eternal welfare; all this, he thought, would
be more than a sufficient reward for what-
ever cares and fatigue he should under-
go in the course of their education.
He, therefore, laid down for them a re-
gular plan of study, to which he afterwards
strictly adhered. In this was included a
course of reading; and some book, that was
at once both instructive and entertaining,
afforded them amusement every evening.
for two or three hours before supper. But, as
this excercise was meant by their father
solely to increase their fund of knowledge,
and
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
27
and enlarge their understanding, in order
that it might appear rather as a relaxation
from their closer studies, than a labour im-
posed on them, Mr. Billingsley, in general,
undertook the task of reading himself. The
following history of the New Robinson
Crusoe was, during some weeks, the sub-
ject of their evening's entertainment; and
was thus introduced.
Mr. and Mrs. Billingsley, being seated
by the parlour fire, together with Mr. Rose
and Mr. Meredith, two intimate friends of
the family, and all the children, whose
names will appear successively in the course
of the story, being assembled in their pro-
per places, Mr. Billingsley began his re-
lation as follows:
Mr. Billingsley. Well, my dear chil-
dren, I have a book for your entertainment
this evening that contains a very extraor-
dinary story. Some parts of it will make
your hair stand on end, and others will
perfectly delight you.
B 2
George.
28
THE NEW
George. Ah! but do not let it be too
melancholy, papa.
Harriet. No, my dear papa, not too
melancholy; for then it will make us all
cry, you know.
Richard. Hold your tongues; papa
knows what to read, I warrant you.
Mr. Bill. Do not be uneasy, my dears,
I will take care that there shall not be any
thing too tragical in it.
There lived in the town of Exeter a
person of the name of Crusoe, who follow-
ed the profession of a broker. He had
three sons, the eldest of whom, having an
inclination to serve in the army, enlisted
himself as a soldier, went abroad with his.
regiment to Flanders, and was killed at
the battle of Fontenoy.
The second entered the University of
Oxford, and made a considerable progress
in learning; but pursuing his studies with
too much eagerness, he impaired his health
beyond all possibility of recovering, and
died of a consumption.
There
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
29
There remained, therefore, but the
youngest, whose name was Robinson. In
him, as he was now become their only son,
Mr. and Mrs. Crusoe placed all their hopes.
and expectations. They loved him as the
apple of their eye, but their love was blind
and injudicious.
Geo. What is the meaning of that, papa?
Mr. Bill. I will tell you-your mother
and I love you all, my dear children, as you
well know; but for that very reason we
keep you close at your business every day,
and teach yon many things both useful and
agreeable, because we know that to be the
best way to make you good and happy.
But Robinson's parents did not act in the
same manner. They suffered their dear
child to do whatever he pleased; and as this
dear child liked better to play than to work
or to learn any thing, they let him play al-
most the whole day long, by which means
he learned little or nothing. Now this is
what we call an injudicious love in parents.
Geo. I understand now, papà.
Ᏼ s
Mr.
30.
THE NEW
>
Mr. Bill. Robinson grew up a stout
stripling before his parents had determined
what profession they should give him. His
father was desirous that he should learn
some trade, but the son had not the least
inclination that way. He said he should
like better to travel, to see the world, and
become acquainted with the various objects
and customs that foreign countries afford.
In speaking thus, young Crusoe shewed
his ignorance and folly. If he had begun
by laying in a good stock of learning, it
would have been another matter. But
what profit could a raw, ignorant boy, like
him, gain by seeing foreign countries?
When a man wishes to make his way in the
world, be it in what country it will, hẹ
ought to be provided beforehand with a
-tolerable share of knowledge; but this was
what Robinson never once thought of.
He was now seventeen years of age. The
greatest part of this time he had mispent in
sauntering about and playing in the streets
of Exeter. Every day he was teazing his
father
f
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
31
father for leave to go and travel. But his
father told him that he did not know his
own mind, nor what sort of a request he was
making and therefore would not hear a
word upon the subject. "My dear child,” his
mother would say to him, "stick to your
own country, and never think of rambling."
One day-
Harriet. Aha! now it begins.
Edw. Pshaw! hold your tongue.
Mr. Bill. One day, when, according to
custom, he was strolling about the streets,
he met one of his old playfellows, whose
father was captain of a ship trading to Am-
sterdam, and who had just come down from
Plymouth to see some of his relations that
lived at Exeter. He told Robinson that
he was to set off with his father in a day
or two for Amsterdam.
Charlotte. What, papa, by the stage?
Henry. No, Charlotte, but in a ship;
for you must cross the sea to go to Am-
sterdam. Well, papa.
Mr. Bill. He asked Robinson if he should
C
:
B 4
like
32
THE NEW
like to go with him. "Yes, very well," re-
plied he, "but my parents will not consent
to it." "Pooh?" said the other, "come o
with me as you are, just for the frolic. We
shall be back again in a month or six weeks;
and as to your father and mother, you have
only to let them know where you are gone."
But," says Robinson, "I have no money
in my pocket." "You will not want any,"
replied his companion; "but if you should,
when we arrive at Amsterdam, I'll supply.
you."
Young Crusoe hesitated a few moments,
as if considering what resolution he should
take; at last, slapping his companion's
hand, he cried, "Agreed, my boy! I will.
go along with you: let us set off this mo-
ment for Plymouth." At the same time he
commissioned one of his acquaintances to
let his father know (after the expiration of
a few hours), that he was only gone to see
the city of Amsterdam, in Holland, and
that he should be back in a week or two.
Rich. I do not like this Mr. Robinson
Crusoe
Edw.
I

الهند
Men Chin
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
33
Edw.. Nor I neither.
Mr. Rose. Why so, Richard?
Rich. Because he seems to make nothing
of leaving his father and mother without
their permission.
Mr. Rose. You are extremely right,
Richard; he committed there a very rash
foolish action, and we should pity him for
his folly. But, thank Heaven, there are
not many young persons now so ignorant
as not to know their duty towards their
parents.
Edw. What are there other boys then
like Robinson Crusoe?
Mr. Rose. I have not yet found any;
but one thing I know for certain, which
is, that no good can ever come of young
people who behave like him.´
Rich. Well, let us hear what becomes
of Robinson.
*
Mr. Bill. A short time after Robinson
and the captain's son were got on board,
the sailors weighed anchor and set their sails.
The wind blew fresh, and they cleared out
£ 5
of
34
THE NEW
of the harbour, bidding adieu to Plymouth
for a short while. Young Crusoe was upon
the deck with his friend, and almost out of
his wits with joy that he was at length
going to begin his travels.
The evening was fine, and the breeze
blew so favourably, that they soon lost sight
of the town and harbour of Plymouth.
They were now on the open sea, and Ro-
binson stared with admiration when he saw
nothing before him but the sky and the
water. By degrees they began to lose
sight of land, and as night came on, they
could see nothing on that quarter but the
Eddistone lighthouse. This also disap-
peared in a short time, and from that
moment Robinson saw nothing above him
but the sky, nor before, behind, and all
round him but the sea.
Geo. That must be a prospect.
Mr. Mered. It is not impossible but
you may see such a one before it be long.
1
Geo. Oh! shall we go upon the sea?
Mr. Mered. If you will be very attentive
while
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
35
while you are learning geography, so as
to know which course you must take to
go from one place to another.
Mr. Bill. Yes, and if by working con-
stantly, and being temperate in your vic-
tuals, you make your bodies hardy enough
to bear the fatigue of such a voyage, we,
may, perhaps, some day in summer, take a
boat down the river as far as London,
where some of you have never been yet.
All the Children. Oh! oh!
Mr. Bill. I cannot tell but we may take
a trip to Margate for a few weeks, where
you will have as wide a prospect of the sea
as Robinson Crusoe had when he was sail-
ing out of Plymouth harbour. (Here they
all get up and run about their father. They
hang on his neck, his arms, and his knees,
expressing their joy with caresses, clapping of
hands, and jumping about.)
Harriet. Will you let me make one of
the party?
Mrs. Bill. Yes, my dear, if you are
able to go so far.
1
B 6
Harriet.
36
THE NEW
1
Harriet.
But it is very far, is not it pa-
pa? Perhaps farther than Richmond, where
Mr. Compton lives, and another gentle-
man that has a great house and a large gar-
den-oh! so large! a great deal larger
than our garden. I was all through it,
was not I, papa? the day that Charlotte and
I were gathering cowslips in the meadow.
Mr. Bill. Yes, I remember, and we
were looking at the folks plowing.
Harriet. Yes, and we went into a smith's
forge that was by the road's side.
Mr. Bill. And afterwards up into a
windmill.
Harriet. Ah, yes, where the wind blew
off my bonnet.
虞
​Mr. Bill. Which the miller's boy brought
back to you again.
Harriet. That was a good boy; was
not'he, papa?
Mr. Bill. Yes, he was a good boy for
being so obliging as to do us a kindness,
though he had never seen us before.
Harriet.
2
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
37
Harriet. However, you gave him some-
thing, I suppose.
Mr. Bill. Certainly, my dear, I gave
him something; for every one likes to re-
ward those that are obliging-But we for-
get Robinson Crusoe. We must make haste
to overtake him, or else we shall lose sight
of him, for he is going at a furious rate.
For two days they had constantly good
weather, and a favourable wind. The
third day the sky was darkened with clouds,
the wind blew with uncommon violence,
and the air grew every moment darker
and darker.
In short, it was a dreadful storm. At
one time the lightning flashed as if the
sky was on fire; then succeeded a pitchy
darkness, like that of midnight, with claps
of thunder which they thought would
never end. The rain came down in floods,
and the violence of the wind tossed the
sea about in such a manner that the waves
swelled and rose mountains high.
Then it would have been worth while to
see
38
THE NEW
see how the ship went see-saw. One time
a large wave carried it, as it were, up to
the clouds; another time it dipped down
as if it was going to the bottom of the
deep; then it rolled to one side and the
other, and lay down so flat that at times
its very masts seemed to touch the water.
What a noise was amongst the ropes !
what a clattering upon the deck! The
sailors were obliged, each of them, to hold
fast to something or other for fear of being
washed overboard. Robinson Crusoe, who
had never been accustomed to all this,
grew giddy, felt a sickness at his stomach,
and was so bad that he thought he should
have vomitted to death. They call it sea-
sickness.
Rich. That is what he has gained by
running away.
Mr. Bill. "Oh! my poor parents! my
poor father and mother!" cried he inces-
santly; "they will never see me more!
Oh miserable fool that I am to have
brought this affliction on them!"
Crack!
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
39
Crack! went something on the deck.
"Heaven have mercy on us;" cried the
sailors, turning as pale as death, and clasp-
ing their hands together. "What is the
matter?" asked Robinson, who was half
dead with affright.
"Ah! we are all lost!" answered one
of the seamen; "the lightning has shiver-
ed our mizen-mast to pieces," (that is, the
hindmost of the three masts that are in a
ship,) and the main-mast stands by so
slender a hold that we must cut it down
and throw it overboard.'
""
"We are all lost!"cried out another voice
from below; "the ship has sprung a leak,
and there are four feet water in the hold."
At these words Robinson, who was sitting
down on the cabin floor, fell backwards
void of sense and motion. All the rest ran to
the pumps, in order, if possible, to keep the
vessel afloat. At last, one of the sailors came
and shook Robinson by the shoulder, ask-
ing him if he intended to be the only one
who would do nothing for the preservation
of
40
THE NEW
of the ship, but lie there stretched at his
length while all the rest of the people
worked until they were not able to stand.
He tried, therefore, to rise, weak as he
was, and took his place at one of the pumps.
In the mean time the captain ordered some
guns to be fired as a signal of distress to
other ships, if there should happen to be
any within hearing capable of assisting
them. Robinson, who did not know the
meaning of these shots, thought the vessel
was splitting in pieces, and fainted away
again. One of the sailors, who took his
place at the pump, pushed him on one side
with his foot, and left him there stretched
at full length, imagining that he was dead.
They pumped with all their strength;
nevertheless the water still gained upon
them in the hold, and now they only wait-
ed for the moment when the vessel would
sink. In order to lighten her, they threw
overboard every thing that they could pos-
sibly spare, as the guns, bales of goods
hogs-
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
41
hogsheads, &c. But all that was of no
manner of service.
'However, another ship had heard their
signals of distress, and, as the storm began
about this time to abate considerably, ven-
tured to send out her boat, in order, if possi-
ble, to save the crew. But the boat could
not come near, the waves running too high.
At length, however, they came near enough
to throw a rope to the people who were on
board, by means of which they towed the
boat close under the ship's stern, and then
every one who could make use of his legs
eagerly jumped into it. Robinson, who
could not stand upon his, was tumbled in
hastily by some of the seamen more com-
passionate than the rest.
They had hardly rowed many minutes,
before the ship, which was still pretty near
them, sunk before their eyes. Happily the
storm was now almost totally abated,
otherwise the waves would inevitably have
swallowed up the boat, which was then as
full of people as it could hold. After many
dangers
42
THE NEW
dangers it got safe at length to the ship,
where they were all taken in.
Gco. Ah! well, I am glad, however,
that the poor people were not drowned.
Edw. I was sadly in pain for them.
Harriet. Well, this will teach master
Robinson never to be so naughty again.
Mrs. Bill. That is just my opinion too.
Let us hope that he will be the better for
this danger.
Henry. Well, what became of him
after?
1
Mr. Bill. The ship that had taken him
and the rest of the crew in, was bound to.
London. In four days she arrived at the
Nore, and the next day came to anchor
in the river.
Charlotte. What is the Nore, papa?
Mr. Bill. The Nore is a small sandy
bank at the mouth of the Thames, where a
vessel is constantly stationed, which hangs
up two lights every night to be a guide to
ships that enter the river.
They now landed, and happy was each
one
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
48
1
one to have thus escaped the dangers of the
sea. As to Robinson, his first care was to see
London, and for this purpose he spent a
day or two in rambling all over the city,
where he met with such a variety of new
objects as entirely put the remembrance of
past dangers out of his head, as well as all
thoughts of the future. Happening one
day to meet the captain with whom he had
set sail from Plymouth, he received an in-
vitation to dine with him, which was very
agreeable to Robinson, as he had spent
what little money he had borrowed from the
captain's son, and his pocket now was not
able to afford him a single meal. At din-
ner the captain asked him what particular
motive he had for going to Amsterdam, and
what he intended to have done there.
binson answered him frankly, that he had
nothing in view but his amusement: that
he had come off unknown to his father and
mother, and at present did not know what
to do with himself.
Ro-
"Unknown to your father and mother!"
cried
A
THE NEW
cried the captain, laying down his knife
and fork: "Good heavens! why did not I
know that before? Believe me, imprudent
young man, if I had known so much at
Plymouth, I would not have taken you
on board of my ship, if you had offered me
a million of money.'
""
Robinson sat with down-cast eyes blush-
ing for shame, and unable to answer a sin-
gle word.
The honest captain continued to represent
to him the folly that he had been guilty of,
and told him that he could never be happy
unless he repented of what he had done,
and obtained forgiveness of his parents. At
these words Robinson wept bitterly.
"But what can I do now?" cried he
at length, sobbing heavily. "What can you
do? said the captain,
"Return to your
parents, fall on your knees before them,
and, like a sensible and dutiful lad, implore
their pardon for your imprudence: that is
what you can do, and what you ought to
do.".
Ilarriet.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
45
:
Harriet. Ah, papa, I like this captain
much; he was a very good man.
Mr. Bill. My dear, he did what every
one ought to do when he sees his fellow-
creature fall into an error; he endeavoured
to bring this young man back to his duty.
"Will you take me with you to lly-
mouth again?" said Robinson.
66
Who, I" said the captain: "Have
you forgot, then, that my ship is lost; I
may be a considerable time before I return
there in a ship of my own: but as for you
there is not a moment to lose you should
go aboard of the very first vessel that sails
for Plymouth, if it were even to-day.
:
"But," says Robinson, "I have no mo-
ney.'
Well," said the honest captain, “I
will lend you a couple of guineas out of the
little that I have to spare. Go down to
the river, and get aboard of some vessel that
is bound for Plymouth, unless you rather
chuse to travel by land. If your repen-
tance is sincere, God will bless your return.
and
46
THE NEW
and make it happier than your outset has
been." With these words, having made
an end of dinner, he shook Robinson by
the hand and wished him a good voyage,
who parted from him with many thanks for
his kindness and good advice. -
Edw. What, is he going back home
again already? I thought the story was
only beginning.
Mrs. Bill. Are not you satisfied, then,
my dear Edward, that he should go home
to his parents, and put an end to the sorrow
and distress that they suffer on his account?
Mr. Mered. And are you not pleased to
find that he sees his error, and is willing to
make amends for it?
Edw. Yes-that--to be sure. But I
thought to hear something diverting before
it came to that.
Mr. Bill. Well, he is not returned home
yet. Let us hear the remainder of his ad-
ventures.
While he was walking down towards the
river, his head was filled with various re-
flections.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
47
flections. "What will my father and mo-
ther say," thought he to himself, "if I
go back to them now? Certainly they will
punish me for what I have done. And then
all my companions, and every one else that
hears of it, what game they will make of
me for returning so soon, after seeing only
two or three streets of London !"
This thought made him stop short. One
moment he seemed determined not to go
home yet; again, he reflected on what the
captain had told him, that he would never
be happy unless he returned to his parents.
For a long time he was at a loss what to re-
solve on. At length, however, he went
down to the river; but there he learned,
to his great satisfaction, that there was not
a single vessel in the river bound for Ply-
mouth. The person who gave him this in-
formation was a captain of a ship in the
African trade, who was shortly to set sail
for the coast of Guinea.
Charlotte. Where is the coast of Guinea,
papa ?
Mr.
48
THE NEW
1
Mr. Bill. Henry can tell you that; he
knows where it lies.
Henry. Don't you remember there is a
country called Africa? Very well; one part
of the coast-
Charlotte. Coast! What is that?
Henry. The land that lies along by the
sea-side. Hold, here's Fenning's Geogra-
phy look at this little map. All this part
of Africa that turns down here is called the
coast of Guinea.
WW
Mr. Bill. And English ships sail to this
coast in order to trade there. The person
who spoke with Robinson was captain of
one of those ships.
When he found that the young man had
so eager a desire for travelling, and would
have been sorry to return so soon to Ply-
mouth, he proposed to him to take a trip to
the coast of Guinea. Robinson at first was
startled at the idea: but when the captain
assured him that the voyage would be ex-
ceeding pleasant; that, so far from costing
him any thing, it might turn out a very
profitable
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
49
:
profitable adventure; Robinson's eyes be-
gan to sparkle, and his passion for travelling
revived in his breast with such force that
he immediately forgot every advice which
the honest Plymouth captain had given
him, and all the good resolutions that he
himself had taken but so short a time before.
But, said he, after considering a
while within himself, "I have only two
guineas in the world; what use can I make
of so small à sum in trading at the place
that you mention?"
""
"I will lend you five more, " said the
captain; "that will be quite sufficient to
purchase you goods, which, if we have but
tolerable success, may make your fortune.
"And what sort of goods must I pur-
chase?" said Robinson.
·
"All sorts of toys and playthings," an-
swered the captain; "glass beads, knives,
scissars, hatchets, ribbands, guns, &c. of
which the negroes of Africa are so fond
that they will give you a hundred times
the value in gold, ivory, and other things."
Robinson
Vol. I.
C
50
THE NEW.
1
Robinson was not able to contain himself
for joy. He forgot, at once, his parents,
friends, and country. Captain," said he,
"I am willing to go along with you when
you please."
66
Agreed!" replied the other, taking
him by the hand, and thus the matter was
settled.
Rich. Well, now it is all over; I shall
never have the least pity any more for such
a blockhead as Robinson, whatever misfor-
tunes may happen to him.
Mr. Bill. No pity, Richard´?
+
Rich. No, papa: why is he such a fool
as to forget a second time his duty to his
parents? Providence, no doubt, will pu-
nish him afresh for it,
Mr. Bill. And do you think that a man
deserves no pity who is unfortunate enough
to forget his parents, and to draw down
upon himself the chastisement of IIeaven?
I grant he is himself the cause of every thing
that happens to him; but is not he for that
very reason so much the more unfortunate?
Oh !
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
51
Oh! my dear child, may Heaven preserve
you and every one of us from that most
terrible of all punishments, to feel that we
alone have caused our own wretchedness!
But whenever we hear of such an unfortu-
nate person, we should consider that he is
our brother, our poor deluded brother;
we should shed over him tears of compas-
sion, and offer up to Heaven the prayers.
of brotherly love in his behalf.
All were silent for a few moments;
after which Mr. Billingsley continued in
the following words:
Robinson made haste to lay out his se-
ven guineas. He purchased with them
such articles as the captain had mentioned
to him, and had them carried on board.
After some days, the wind being fa-
vourable, the captain weighed anchor, and
they set sail.
Henry. What course should they hold
to arrive at Guinea.
Mr. Bill. Here, you have Fenning's
Geography: I should think you cannot be at
a loss to know, as you pointed out to your
C 2
sister
32
THE NEW
$.
sister the coast of Guinea just now. How-
ever, I will shew you their course. You see,
from London here they go down the Thames,
and come into the Downs. Afterwards
they steer West, through the British Chan-
nel, and enter the great Atlantic Ocean,
in which they continue their course here
close by the Canary Islands, and so past
the Cape Verd Islands, until at last they
land hereabouts on the coast of Guinea,
But at what particular spot
Henry.
will they land?
Mr. Bill. Perhaps there, near Cape
Coast castle.
Mrs. Bill. Well, now I think it is high
time for us to set sail towards the land of
supper. What think ye, Children?
Geo. I am not the least hungry, mamma.
Harriet. And I would rather hear the
story too.
Mr. Bill. To-morrow, my dears, to-
morrow evening we shall have the rest of
Robinson's adventures. At present we
will put him by and prepare for supper.
SECOND
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
53
SECOND EVENING.
TIIE next evening the whole company
having taken their places as before, Mr.
Billingsley continued his story in the fol-
lowing terms.
Robinson's second voyage began as fa-
vourably as the first. They had already
cleared the Channel without any accident,
and were now in the middle of the Atlantic
Ocean; here they met with such contrary
winds for several days successively, that
they found themselves driven a consider-
able way towards the coast of America.
Here, my dear children, I have brought
you a large map which will shew you
much better than a small one the course
which the ship should have held, and that
which the wind obliged her to take. They
wanted to steer down all along this way, so;
but because they had a side wind from that
quarter, they were driven in spite of them-
selves, towards this part, where you see
America
C 3
544
THE NEW
:
America lie. I will lay it down here on
the table that we may all cast our eyes
upon it whenever there is occasion.
One evening the steersman declared that
he saw a fire at a great distance, and that
he heard the firing of guns from the same
quarter. All hands immediately hastened
upon deck, where they both saw the fire
and could distinctly hear the report of se-
veral guns. The captain examined his
maps, and found there was no land on that
quarter within the distance of a hundred
leagues; and they all unanimously con-
cluded that what they saw could be no-
thing else but a ship on fire.
It was immediately resolved to assist
the vessel in distress, and they accordingly
steered that way. In a very short time
their conjectures were verified; for they
beheld a large ship all in flames, and burn-
ing with the greatest fury.
The captain instantly ordered five guns
to be fired as a signal to the poor people
who were on board the burning ship, that
help
เ
2

335
Sil
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
55
help was at hand. Scarcely was this order
put in execution, before they saw, with .ter-
ror and astonishment, the ship which had
been on fire blow up with a dreadful ex-
plosion; and immediately after every thing
sunk and the fire was seen no more. It is
to be observed, that the flames had, at
length, reached the powder room, and this
was the cause of the ship's blowing up.
Nobody could tell as yet what was be-
come of the poor people belonging to her.
There was a possibility that they might
have taken to their boats before the vessel
blew up: for which reason the captain
continued firing guns the whole night, in
order to inform them on what quarter the
ship was that desired to assist them. He
also ordered all the lanterns to be hung
out, that they might have a chance of
seeing the ship in the night time.
At break of day they discovered, by
means of their glasses, two boats full of
people, tossing about at the mercy of the
waves. They could perceive that the
C 4
wind
56
THE NEW
+
wind was against them, but that they rowed
with all their force towards the ship. Im-
mediately the captain ordered the colours
to be hoisted as a signal that he saw their
distress, and was ready to relieve them.
At the same time the ship made all the sail
possible towards them, and in the space of
half an hour happily came up with them.
There were sixty in the boats, men,
women and children, who were all taken
on board. It was an affecting scene to
behold the actions of these poor people
when they saw themselves so happily de-
livered. Some sobbed and wept for joy,
others lamented as if their danger was but
just begun; some jumped about upon the
deck as if they had lost their wits, others were
wringing their hands, and as pale as death;.
several of them were laughing like mad
people, and danced and shouted for joy;
others, on the contrary, stood stock-still
as if speechless and insensible, and could
not utter a single word.
Sometimes one or two amongst them fell
ou
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
57
on their knees, lifted up their hands to
Heaven, and with a loud voice returned
thanks to God, whose providence had so
miraculously saved them from perishing.
Some of them again would start up,
dance about like children, tear their cloaths,
cry and fall down in fainting fits, from
which they could with difficulty be reco-
vered. There was none of the ship's crew,
though ever so hardened, that could help
shedding tears at the sight of these
people's extravagant behaviour.
poor
Among them happened to be a young
priest, who acted with more firmness and
dignity than any of the rest. As soon as
he set his foot upon the deck, he fell upon
his face, and seemed to have lost all sense
and motion. The captain went to assist
him, thinking that he had swooned away;
but the clergyman calmly thanked him for
his good-nature, and said, "Allow me first.
to return thanks to my Creator, for our de-
liverance; I will afterwards endeavour to
shew you how lively a sense I entertain of
C 5
your
58
THE NEW
your extreme kindness to us." Upon this
the captain politely withdrew.
(6
The priest remained a few minutes in this
posture of humble prostration; after which,
rising cheerfully, he went to the captain to
testify his gratitude to him for the civility.
that he had shewn to him and his people.
This done, he turned to his companions in
misfortune and said, My dear friends,
alm the agitation of your minds. The
Being who is supremely good, hath vouch-
safed to stretch out a father's hand over
you. You should lift up your hearts to
him, and thank him without delay for the
unexpected preservation of your lives."
There were several of them who' acted in
conformity to his exhortations, and im-
mediately began to return thanks to Ica-
ven with fervour and devotion.
After this the priest gave the captain an
account who they were, and what had
happened to them.
The ship that was burnt was a large
French merchantman, bound for Quebec
-Here,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
59
Here, you see, this spot in America.
The fire broke out in the sail room, and
burned with such rapidity as baffled all
their endeavours to stop it. They had
barely time to fire some guns as signals of
their distress, and then to take to their boats,
uncertain of the destiny that awaited them.
The most likely prospect before them in
that moment of horror was, that, upon the
least swell of the sea, the waves would swal-
low up them and their boats, or else that
they must perish with hunger, as they had
been able to save nothing from the ship
on fire but a small quantity of biscuit and
water, sufficient for a few days.
Charlotte. What occasion had they to
carry water with them? They were on the
water.
Mr. Bill. You forget, my dear Char-
lotte, that the water of the sea is salt and
unfit for drinking.
Charlotte. So, so!
Mr. Bill. In this distressful situation they
heard the guns that were fired by the Eng-
C 6
lish
60
THE NEW
lish ship, and soon after observed the light
of their lanterns. They passed all that
long and dismal night between hope and
fear, exerting all their strength to get to
the ship, but continually driven back by
the winds and waves. At length, however,
the long-wished-for appearance of day put
an end to their distress.
Robinson all this time had been filled
with the most dreadful reflections. "Hea-
vens!" said he to himself, "if these people,
amongst whom there are certainly many
good and devout persons, have suffered so
great distress, what must not I expect,
who have acted with so much ingratitude
towards my poor parents!" This thought
lay heavy at his heart. Pale and silent,
like one whose conscience is not good, he
sat in a corner, with his hands clasped to-
gether, and scarcely daring even to pray,
because he feared lest God would have no
regard to his prayers.
The people who were saved from the
boats, and were almost exhausted with fa-
tigue,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
61
tigue, had now taken some refreshment,
when their captain, holding a large purse
'full of money in his hand, came up to the
ship's captain, and told him that whatever
money they had been able to save from their
ship was in that purse, which he begged
him to accept as a slight mark of the gra-
titude which they all entertained towards
him for the preservation of their lives.
"God forbid," answered the captain,
"that I should accept your offers! I have
done no more than humanity required of
ine, and I am convinced that you would
have done the same thing if you had been
in our place, and we in yours."
In vain did the Frenchman press him to
accept the purse; the captain persisted in
refusing it, and begged him to say no more
about it.—It was now debated where they
should land the people that had been saved.
To carry them to Guinea did not appear ad-
visable for two reasons. In the first place,
why should those poor people be obliged
to make so long a voyage to a country
where
62
THE NEW
*
where they had not the least business in the
world? And besides there were not provi-
sions enough aboard for so many people to
hold out until they should arrive at Guinea.
At length the captain generously re-
solved to go a hundred leagues out of his
way for the sake of these poor people, and
to carry
them to Newfoundland, where
they might have an opportunity of return-
ing to France in some of the ships em-
ployed in the cod fishery.
· Harriet. What is that?
Rich. Do not you remember what papa
has told us about the cod fish; how they
come down.from the North seas to the very
banks of Newfoundland, where people fish
for them and catch them in such quantities?
Harriet. Oh, yes! now I recollect.
Rich. Look here on the map: this is
Newfoundland up here, near to America,
and those dotted spots are the banks where
they fish for the cod.
Mr. Bill. To Newfoundland, therefore,
they bent their course; and as it happened
to
1
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
63
to be the middle of the fishing season, they
found several French vessels there, which
took ou board the people of the ship that
had blown up. Their gratitude to the
English captain was too great to be ex-
pressed in words.
As he had now, therefore, conducted
them to ships of their own nation, he re-
turned with a favourable wind, in order to
continue his own voyage to the coast of
Guinea. The ship cut the waves with the
swiftness of a bird that wings its airy way
through the skies, and in a short time they
had sailed some hundred leagues. This
was what Robinson Crusoe liked; things
never could go too fast for him, as he was
of a restless, unsettled disposition.
Their course now was mostly directed to
the Southward. One day as they were steer-
ing in that direction, they perceived a large
ship making up towards them. Presently
after they heard them fire.some guns of dis-
tress, and could discern that they had lost
their foremast and their bowsprit.
Edw.
!
"
64
THE NEW
Edw. Bowsprit? What is that?
Mr. Bill. Why surely, you cannot have
forgot what that is.
Edw. Ah! right! It is a little mast that
does not stand straight up like the rest,
but comes out sloping, so, from the fore-
part of the ship.
Mr. Bil. Very well. They steered their
course towards the ship that was in dis-
tress, and when they were within hearing
of each other, the people aboard of her
cried out, "For Heaven's sake have com-
passion on us, and save our lives! We are
at the last extremity, and must perish if
you do not relieve us."
The captain, therefore, asked them in
what consisted their, distress; when one
of their number answered thus:
"We are Englishmen, bound for the
French Island of Martinico."-See, chil-
dren; here it lies in the West Indies-
"We took in a cargo of coffee there; and
while we were lying at anchor, and just
ready to depart, our captain and mate, with
most
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
65
most of the ship's crew, went ashore one
day to get in a few things for the ship's
use. In their absence, there arose so vio-
lent a storm that our cable was broke, and
we were driven out from the harbour into
The hurricane"
the open sea.
Geo. What is that papa?
Mr. Bill. It is a kind of wirlwind occa-
sioned by many winds blowing from diffe-
rent quarters, one against the other.--
"The hurricane," continued he, "blew
furiously three days and three nights. We
lost our masts, and were driven some hun-
dreds of leagues out to sea. Unfortunately
we are most of us passengers, with but one
seaman and a boy or two on board to work
the ship; so that for nine weeks we have
been driven about at the mercy of the
winds and waves: all our provisions are
gone, and many of us are, at this moment,
dying with hunger."
Immediately the good captain ordered
out his boat, took some provisions, and went
aboard
1
66
THE NEW
}
aboard the ship, accompanied by Robinson,
Crusoe.
They found the crew reduced to the
most deplorable condition possible: they
all looked as if they were starved, and many
of them could hardly stand. But when
they went into the cabin-Heavens! what
a shocking spectacle they beheld! A mo-
ther, with her son and a young maid servant,
were stretched on the floor, and, to all ap-
pearance, starved to death. The mother,
already quite stiff, was sitting on the ground
between two chairs tied together, with her
face leaning against one of the planks of the
ship's side. The maid servant was stretched
at her length beside her mistress, and had
one of her arms clasped round the foot of
the table. As to the young man, he was
laid upon a bed, and had still in his mouth
a piece of a leather glove, of which he had
gnawed away the greatest part.
Harriet. Oh! papa, what a shocking ac-
count this is ! .
་
Mr.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
67
Mr. Bill. Right-I had forgot that you
did not wish to hear any thing melancholy.
Well then, I will pass by this story.
All. Oh no! oh no! Dear papa, let us
have the whole of it now.
•
Mr. Bill. As you please. I must tell
you then, in the first place, who these
poor people were that lay stretched in this
deplorable manner.
They were coming passengers in this
ship from America to England. The whole
crew said that they were very worthy peo-
ple. The mother was so remarkably fond
of her son, that she refused all manner of
nourishment purposely that her son might
have something to eat, and this excellent.
young man had done the same thing, in
order to reserve every thing for his mother.
The faithful maid servant was more con-
cerned for her master and mistress than for
herself.
J
They were thought to be dead, all
three, but, on examination, appeared to
have some remains of life; for, after a few
drops
68
THE NEW
drops of broth had been forced into their
mouths, they began, by degrees, to open
their eyes. But the mother was now too
weak to swallow any thing; and she made
signs that they should confine their atten
tion to her son. In effect, she expired a
few minutes after.
The other two were brought to them-
selves by the force of cordials, and as they
were in the flower of their age, the captain,
by his attentive care, succeeded in restor-
ing them to life. But when the young man
turned his eyes upon his mother, and saw
that she was dead, the shock made him fall
again into a swoon, from which it was very
difficult to recover him. However, they
were fortunate enough to bring him to his
senses again, and he was, in a short time,
perfectly re-established; as was also the
servant maid.
The captain furnished the ship in dis-
tress with all the provisions that he could
possibly spare; he ordered his carpenter to
put up masts for them in the room of those
that
i
4
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
69
that had been broken, and gave the crew
proper instructions for conveying them-
selves to the nearest land, which was that
of the Madeira Islands. He bent his course
thither also, on purpose to take in more
provisions.
•
One of these islands, you know, is called
Madeira, from which the rest take their
name.
+
Henry. Yes, I know it; they belong to
the Portuguese.
Rich. From them the fine Madeira wine
comes; does it not?
Geo. And the sugar canes.
Mr. Bill. The same. At this island the
captain cast anchor; and Robinson went
ashore with him in the afternoon.
He could never sufficiently admire the
beautiful prospect which this fertile isle af-
fords. As far as his eyes could see, the
mountains were all covered with vines.
How his mouth watered at the sight of the
delicious grapes that hung on them; and
how did he regale himself when the cap-
tain
70
THE NEW
tain paid for him that he might have
leave to eat his fill!
They understood, from those who were
in the vineyards, that in making wine they
did not press the grapes here in a wine
press, as they do in other countries.
Geo. How then?
Mr. Bill. They tumble the grapes into
a large tub, and then tread upon them with
their feet, or bruise them with ther elbows.
Harriet. Oh fie! I shall not like to
drink Madeira wine for the future.
Rich. Now I should not like to drink it
if it were even made with the wine press.
Charlotte. Why?
Rich. Ah! you were not here when
papa
shewed us that wine is not good for young
people. If you were to know all the harm
that it can do them!
Charlotte. Is he in earnest, papa?
Mr. Bill. Yes, my dear; nothing can
be more true. Children that drink wine
or other strong liquors, often become weak
and silly.
Charlotte.
។
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
71
Charlotte. Gracious! I'll never drink
wine any more.
Mr. Bill. You will act very wisely, my
dear.
As the captain was obliged to stop here
some time to repair his ship, which had re-
ceived a little damage, poor Robinson, at
the end of a few days, began to grow tired
of his situation. His restless temper want-
ed some change, and he wished to have
wings, that he might fly all over the world
in as short a time as possible.
Just at this interval arrived a Portuguese
ship that came from Lisbon, and was bound
for Brazil, in South America.
Henry (pointing to the map). Is it not
this country here, belonging to the Portu-
guese, and where so much gold-dust and
precious stones are found?
Mr. Bill. The very same.
*
Robinson got acquainted with the cap-
tain of this ship, and hearing him talk of
gold-dust and precious stones, he would
have given the world to make a voyage to
Brazil,
79
THE NEW
1
Brazil, where he thought he should fill his
pockets with diamonds.
Edw. He did not know, I suppose, that
in that country nobody dares to gather
gold-dust or precious stones, which are the
sole property of the king of Portugal.
Mr. Bill. And the reason that he did
not know was, because when he was young
he would never learn any thing.
Finding, therefore, that the Portuguese
captain was disposed to take him along with
him as one of his crew, and that the Eng-
lish ship would be obliged to stop at least
a fortnight longer, he could not resist his
desire of rambling. IIe, therefore, told his
good friend, the English captain, bluntly
that he was going to leave him, and to take
a voyage to Brazil. The captain, who had
learned from Robinson himself, a short time
before, that he was rambling thus about
the world without the knowledge or con-
sent of his parents, was glad to get rid of
him. He agreed to take Robinson's venture,
which consisted of toys and hardware, for
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
73
the money that he had lent him in Eng-
land, and gave him besides all manner of
good advice.
Robinson, therefore, went aboard the
Portuguese; and now behold him sailing
for Brazil. They passed pretty near the
island of Teneriff.
Harriet. Where that high mountain is
to be seen, called the Peak of Teneriff;
eh, papa?
Rich. Aye, aye, don't interrupt.
Mr Bill. It was an admirable prospect,
even long after sun-set in the evening, when
all the sea was covered with gloomy dark-
ness, to see the top of that mountain, one
of the highest in the whole world, shine
with the rays of the sun as if it had been
all on fire.
Some days after they saw another sight
upon the sea, which was very agreeable. A
large number of flying fishes rose upon the
surface of the water. They glistened like po-
lished silver, so that they threw forth a strong
light from their bodies, as it were in rays.
Charlotte.
VOL. I.
D
74
THE NEW
Charlotte. What, are there fishes that
fly?
Mr. Bill. Yes, Charlotte; and I think,
on a certain day, you and I saw one.
Geo. Ah, yes; that was when we were
in town last Whitsuntide: but for all that,
papa, it had neither feathers nor wings.
Mr. Bill. But it had a couple of long
fins, which serve it as wings when it rises
above the surface of the water.
For several days successively the voyage
was as fine as possible; but all of a sudden
a violent hurricane arose from the South-
east. The waves frothed and rose moun-
tain high, tossing the vessel to and fro.
This dreadful storm continued for six days.
successively, and carried the ship so far out
of her way, that neither the captain nor
any person on board knew where they were.
However, by their reckoning,they supposed
that they could not be far from the Ca-
ribbee Islands. They lie hereabouts.
The seventh morning, exactly at day-
break, one of the sailors threw the whole
crew
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
75
crew into a fit of extravagant joy, by cry-
ing out from the mast head, Land!
room.
Mrs. Bill. This call comes very season-
ably, for supper is almost ready in the next
To-morrow we shall hear the rest.
Geo. O dear mamma, only let us hear
how they landed, and what happened to
them afterwards. I should be contented
with a bit of dry bread, if papa would but
go on.
Mr. Bill. Well, my dear, as your mam-
ma only says that supper is almost ready,
perhaps there may be a few minutes to
spare. If she will indulge you until sup-
per is quite ready, I am content.
Mrs. Bill. I have no objection: so that
you may go on until I call you, which
shall be when every thing is perfectly
ready.
All the children. Oh! that will do. That
is charming!
Mr. Bill. To proceed, therefore, with
my story:
The whole crew hastened upon deck to
D 2
see
76
THE NEW
}
:
see what land this was; but in the very
moment their joy was changed into terror
and consternation; the ship struck, and
all those who were upon the deck received
so violent a shock as almost to throw them
backwards.
Rich. What was the matter?
Mr. Bill. The ship had run upon a sand-
bank, and stuck fast as suddenly as if it
had been nailed to the spot. Then the
foaming waves dashed over the deck with
such violence, that they were all obliged to
take refuge in the cabin and between decks,
for fear of being carried overboard.
Nothing was now to be heard amongst the
crew but lamentable cries, groans, and sighs,
that would have softened a heart of stone.
Some were praying, others wept aloud;
some tore their hair like people in despair,
others were half dead, and stupidly insen-
sible. Amongst this last class was Robin-
son Crusoe, who was literally more dead
than alive.
Suddenly some one cried out that the
ship
*
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
77
ship had split. These dreadful tidings
brought them all to new life. They ran
hastily upon deck, lowered the boat as fast
as possible, and all jumped into it with the
most precipitate haste.
But there were now. so many people in
the boat, that its sides were scarcely four
inches above the water. The land was still
far off, and the storm so violent, that every
one thought it impossible to reach the
shore. Nevertheless, they exerted their
whole strength in rowing, and fortunately
the wind drove them towards land. All at
once they beheld a wave, mountain high,
rolling towards the boat.
At this dreadful sight the whole crew sat
motionless, and dropped their oars. The huge
wave strikes the boat, oversets it, and all are
at once swallowed up in the enraged deep!
Here Mr. Billingsley made a stop; the
whole company remained silent, and many
of them could not help sighing with com-
passion for the fate of the poor seamen. At
length Mrs. Billingsley arriving with the
D 3-
news
78
THE NEW
?
news that supper was ready, put an end to
these melancholy ideas.
THIRD EVENING.
GEORGE. Dear papa, is poor Robinson
Crusoe lost for good? Is he dead?
Mr. Bill. We left him last night in the
most imminent danger of losing his life, the
boat being overset.
Robinson was swallowed up in the sea
along with the rest of the ship's company;
but the same wave, that dreadful wave,
which had buried him in the deep, at its
return drew him along with it, and dashed
him towards the shore. . He was thrown
with such violence upon a piece of a rock
that the pain occasioned by the jolt roused
him from the state of almost insensibility
that he was in before. He opened his eyes,
and
爵
​3

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
79
and seeing himself, contrary to all expec-
tation, upon dry ground, he exerted the
last efforts of his strength to gain the top
of the beach.
He reached it at length, but the mo-
ment that he arrived at this spot of safety
he fainted away with fatigue, and remained
a long time without sense or motion.
When he recovered, he opened his
eyes and looked round. Heavens, what
a prospect the ship, the boat, his com-
panions, all lost! There was nothing to
be seen but a few broken planks, which
the waves drove towards the shore. He
alone was saved out of the whole ship's
company.
Trembling at once with fear and joy, he
fell upon his knees, lifted up his hands to-
wards Heaven, and while he shed a flood of
tears, returned thanks aloud to the Ma-
ker of heaven and earth for his miraculous
preservation.
Rich. But, papa, why did God Almighty
D 4
save
THE NEW
80
save Robinson Crusoe alone, and suffer the
rest to perish?
Mr. Bill. My dear Richard, are you al-
ways able to discover the reasons why we
who are so much older than you, and who
love you tenderly, act towards you in this
manner or that ?
Rich. No.
Mr. Bill. Lately, for instance, when the
day was so fine, and we had all so great a
fancy to go on a nutting party, what did
I do ?
Rich. I have not forgot it. Poor Ed-
ward was obliged to stay at home and keep
house, and the rest of us were forced to go
to Richmond, and not on the nutting party.
Mr. Bill. But why was I so cruel to
poor Edward, not to let him go with us?
Edw. Ah, I know the reason of that.
James came presently after, and took ine to
Lady Castleton's. Frederick, my old play-
fellow, was just come home from school,
and begged his mamma to send for me.
Mr.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
81
Mr. Bill. And was not that better than
to go a nutting?
Edw. Oh yes, a hundred times.
Mr. Bill. I had sent word before to Lady
Castleton, that you should go and see her
son, as she requested; and therefore it was
that I ordered you to stay at home. And,
Richard, what did you meet at Richmond?
Rich. I met you there, papa, and my
mamma. You were there before me.
Mr. Bill. That too I knew; and, there-
fore, I made you for that time go to Rich-
mond, and not on the nutting party. My
intention in all this never once entered your
heads, for you did not know my reasons.
But why did not I tell you these reasons?
Rich. That you might afford us an un-
expected pleasure.
Mr. Bill. Just so. Well, my dear chil-
dren, do you not think that our heavenly
Father loves his children, that is to say,
all mankind, as much as we love you?
Geo. Certainly, and more.
Mr. Bill. And have you not learnt long
D 5
ago,
82
་
THE NEW
I
ago, that God knows all things better than
we poor mortals do, whose knowledge is
so contracted, and who can so seldom tell
what is really for our own advantage.
Rich. Yes; I believe it. God has a
knowledge that is without bounds, and,
therefore, knows every thing that will
come to pass; a knowledge that we have
no idea of
Mr. Bill. Since, therefore, God loves all
mankind as his children, and is at the same
time so wise that he alone knows what is
really useful for us, it is impossible but he
should do what is best for our interest.
Geo. Without doubt, and so he does
continually.
Mr. Bill. But are we always able to dis-
cover the reasons why God doth any
action that affects us in one particular
manner rather than in another?
Rich. To discover them, we should
have as much knowledge and wisdom as
God himself.
Mr. Bill. Well, my dear Richard, do
you
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
83
you wish now to repeat the question that
you asked me just now?
Rich. What question?
Mr. Bill. Why the Supreme Disposer
of things saved only Robinson Crusoe, and
suffered the rest to perish?
Rich. No.
Mr. Bill. Why not?
Rich. Because I see now that it was an
unreasonable question.
Mr. Bill.
Unreasonable? How?
Rich. Because our Maker knows very
well why he does any action, and we are
not capable of knowing it.
Mr. Bill. The Ruler of the Universe had
therefore reasons which were wise, excel-
lent, and worthy of himself, for suffering
the whole crew to perish, and saving only
the life of Robinson Crusoe. But these
reasons are inscrutable to us. We may, in-
deed, carry our conjectures to a certain
length, but we ought never to flatter our-
selves that we have hit upon the truth.
For instance, infinite wisdom might fore-
D6
see
逸
​84
THE NEW.
see that a longer life would be more hurt-
ful than advantageous to those whom he
suffered to perish: they might fall into
great distresses, or even become wicked;
for that reason, perhaps, he removed them
from this world, and conducted their im-
mortal souls to a place where they are hap-
pier than here. As for Robinson Crusoe,
probably his life was preserved to the end
that affliction might be a school of wisdom
to him; for God, being a kind father, all
wise and all just, sends adversity to turn
the hearts of men, when they are blindly
insensible to his goodness and support.
Keep this in remembrance, my dear
child, through the course of your life.
You may meet with accidents and reverses
in which you cannot perceive the design of
Providence. Then, instead of rashly en-
deavouring to reason or explain the seeming
inconsistency, say to yourself," God knows
better than I what is for my good; I will,
therefore, suffer with chearfulness this mis-
fortune which he sends me as a trial. I am
con-
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
85
1
convinced that his dispensations of good and
evil are ever intended to render us better
than we are; I, for my part, will therefore
labour to become so, and certainly God
will bless and reward my endeavours."
Henry. Did Robinson think so upon
that occasion?
Mr. Bill. Yes, then when he had been
in so great danger of perishing, and saw
himself cut off from all the world, then he
felt sincerely how unjust and blamable his
conduct had been; then he prayed to Hea-
ven, on his knees, for pardon; and then
he took the stedfast resolution of amend-
ing his life, and of never doing any action
contrary to the warning of his conscience.
Edw. But what did he do after that?
Mr. Bill. When the joy that he felt on
his happy deliverance had a little subsided,
he began to reflect on his situation.
looked about him, but could see nothing
He
except trees and thickets; he could not
perceive, on any side, the least mark that
the country was inhabited.
This
86
THE NEW
This was a dreadful necessity imposed
upon him; to live all alone in a strange
country! But his anxiety was still more
dreadfully increased when this reflection.
occurred to him, What, if there should be
wild beasts or savages here, so that I should
not be able to live a moment in safety!
Charlotte. What are savages, papa?
Rich. Savages are wild men. Have you
never heard talk of them, Charlotte? In
countries, a great, great way off from this,
there are men nearly as wild as beasts.
Geo. That go almost naked-What do
you think of that?
Henry. Aye, and know scarce any thing
in the world. They cannot build them-
selves houses, nor make gardens, nor sow
and plant, as we do.
Harriet. And they eat raw meat and
raw fish. I heard my papa tell of them-
Did not you, papa?
Rich. And would you think it? These
poor creatures are entirely ignorant of their
Maker,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
87
Maker, because they never had any person
to instruct them.
Henry. It is for that reason too that
they are so barbarous. You would hardly
believe that some of them eat human flesh.
Charlotte. Oh! what wicked men !
Mr. Bill. What poor unhappy men!
should say. Alas! these poor people
are sufficiently to be pitied, that they have
been brought up in this ignorance, and
live like brutes.
you
Charlotte. Do they ever come here?
Mr. Bill. No: the countries where these
unfortunate people live are so far off, that
they never come here. Their number also
grows less every day, because other civi-
lized men, who come amongst them, en-
deavour to instruct and civilize them.
Henry. Were there, then, any of those
savages in the country where Robinson
Crusoe was thrown by the storm?
Mr. Bill. That he could not tell him-
self as yet. But having formerly heard that
there were savages in the islands in this
part
88
THE NEW
part of the world, he thought it very pos-
sible that there might be some on the par-
ticular spot where he now was; and this
thought raised such an apprehension of
danger in his mind, that every bone of
his body shook for fear.
Geo. I do not doubt it. It would be no
very pleasant matter to meet with savages.
Mr. Bill. Fear, at first, rendered him
motionless; he did not dare to stir; the least
noise terrified him; his heart was frozen:
but a burning thirst forced him at length
from this fearful state of inaction, and sent
him up and down in search of some brook
or spring to quench his thirst. Luckily he
found a brook of pure and clear water
where he might refresh himself to his ut-
most wish. Oh! what a delicious treasure
for a man who was parched up with thirst!
Robinson returned thanks to God for
it, hoping, at the same time, that he would
also vouchsafe him food. "He who feeds
the fowls of the air," said he, "will not
suffer me to perish with hunger."
Indeed,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
89
Indeed, hunger was not very pressing on
him at this time; fear and anxiety had taken
away his appetite. He longed for rest more
than any thing else. His pain and vexation
of mind had so overpowered him that he
could scarce stand upon his legs.
However, the question was, Where must
he
pass the night? On the ground, under
the open air? There he would be exposed
to savages or wild beasts that would devour
him. House, or cabin, or cave, he saw not
signs of. He knew not what to do; his
distress brought tears into his eyes; he
cried heartily. At length he resolved to
imitate the birds, and like them to seek a
retreat in some tree. Presently he disco-
vered one, the boughs of which were so
thick and so closely interwoven, that he
could sit amongst them, and even lay him-
self at his length very conveniently. He
climbed up this tree, offered up an earnest
prayer to his Maker, then settled himself,
and fell asleep in a moment.
While he slept, his heated imagination
represented
1
90
THE NEW
:
represented to him afresh the transactions
of the preceding day. Disturbed with tu-
multuous dreams, he fancied he still saw
the waves swelling round him, and the ship
sinking. The cries of the seamen still
sounded in his ears. After this, he ima-
gined himself transported into the presence
of his parents: they appeared overwhelmed
with sorrow and distress for the loss of their
beloved son: they sighed, wept, lifted up
their hands to Heaven, and were utterly
destitute of comfort. A cold sweat broke
out all over his body: he cried aloud, “I
am not lost, my dear parents; I am restored
to you once more:" and with these words,
making a motion in his sleep as if to em-
brace his parents, he lost his seat amongst
the branches, and fell down out of the tree.
Harriet. Oh poor Robinson!
Geo. I suppose he is killed now.
Mr. Bill. Fortunately for him, he had
not fixed himself far up in the tree; and
the grass was so high upon the ground that
his fall was not very severe. In effect, the
slight
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
91
slight pain which it occasioned him he
hardly felt, in comparison to the anguish
that he had suffered in the conflicts of his
dream, and which still agitated his whole
body. He, therefore, climbed up once
more into the tree, and lay there quietly
until sun-rise.
He then began earnestly to consider how
he should procure himself food. He had
no sort of victuals such as we use in this
part of the world, neither bread, nor meat,
nor vegetables, nor milk; and, had he even
been master of a joint of meat, he had nei-
ther fire, nor spit to roast it on, nor pot to
boil it in. All the trees that he had seen
hitherto were logwood-trees, which never
bear any fruit.
Rich. What sort of trees are they,
papa?
Mr. Bill. These are trees the wood of
which is of considerable use in dying. They
grow in some countries of South America,
and much of the logwood is brought to
Europe. When it is boiled, the water
turns
92
THE NEW
turns of a reddish black colour, and dyers
make use of it to give a shade to other co-
lours.
But to return to Robinson Crusoe.
Still uncertain what he should do, he
came down from the tree. As he had eaten
nothing the day before, hunger began to
be exceedingly troublesome to him. He
rambled about for several miles, but found
nothing, except grass, and trees that bore
no fruit.
It was impossible now to add to his dis-
tress; "Must I, then, perish with hunger
at last?" cried he, sobbing and looking up
towards Heaven. However, necessity re-
animated him with fresh strength to go
and search carefully along the shore for
something eatable.
But in vain nothing but logwood-trees
and Indian willow; nothing but grass and
sand. At length, fatigued, weakened, and
exhausted, he threw himself down with his
face to the ground, burst into tears, and
wished that he had perished in the waves of
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
93
AL
the sea rather than be preserved only to
die a miserable death by hunger.
He thought of nothing, therefore, now
but of waiting in this forlorn situation for
the slow and dreadful approach of death;
when, turning by chance, he saw a cormo-
rant devouring a fish that he had taken.
Immediately he reccollected that he had
somewhere read the following words:
The Lord, who feeds with bounteous hand
The feather'd tenants of the air,
Will surely over MAN expand
The wings of his paternal care,
He then reproached himself with having
put so little trust in Divine Providence;
and, rising hastily, he determined to walk as
far as ever his strength would permit him.
He shaped his course, therefore, along the
shore, and looked narrowly about to disco-
ver, if possible, something that might serve
him for food.
At length he perceived a number of oyster
shells lying on the shore. He ran eagerly
towards
94
THE NEW
towards the spot where they were, and
carefully examined all round it, hoping
to find oysters thereabouts. He did find
some, and his joy was inexpressible.
Rich. Are there oysters on land then?
Mr. Bill. Why no, not properly. On
the contrary, they belong to the sea and
live in it. There they fasten themselves to
rocks, one upon another, in immense quan-
tities. Such a heap of them is called a bed
of oysters. Now the waves, in dashing
against this, loosen several of the oysters,
and the tide carries them towards the shore.
Afterwards, when the tide ebbs, and it is
low water, these oysters are left on the
beach, where it is then dry.
+
Charlotte. You say when the tide ebbs,
papa, what is that?
Harriet. What, don't you know that? It
is when the water that was so high before,
runs back and grows quite shallow.
Charlotte. What water.
Harriet. Why the sea water, or a river
like our Thames where the tide comes up:
Mr.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
95
Mr. Mered. Charlotte, make your bro-
ther Richard explain that to you. He will
be able to give you a clear idea of it.
Rich. Who, I? Well, I will do my
best. Have you never observed that the
water of the Thames rises sometimes pretty
high at the bottom of our garden; and then,
after a while, falls back and leaves the
ground dry; so that one can walk where
it was but a little time before covered
with water?
Charlotte.
to have seen it.
Oh! yes, now I remember
Rich. Well, when the water rises in that
manner, it is called the tide, or the flowing
of the tide: and when it falls back and
leaves the ground dry, it is called the ebb.
Thus we say the tide ebbs and flows.
Mr. Bill. Besides this, you must know,
my dear Charlotte, that, in the course of
four and twenty hours, the water of the sea
rises thus twice, and falls twice. It conti-
nues to rise for a little more than six hours,
and then to sink for a little more than six
hours.
96
THE NEW
4
hours. The hours during which it rises,
are called the time of the flow, and the
hours during which it falls, are called the
time of the ebb. Do you understand it now?
Charlotte. Yes; but why does the sea
always rise so?
Geo. I think I have heard the reason.
It is said, the moon attracts the waters in
such a manner, that they are obliged to rise.
Oh! we have often heard that.
Edw.
Let papa go on.
D
Mr. Bill. Another time, Charlotte, I
will tell you more upon this subject.
Robinson was almost out of his wits for
joy at having found something to appease
his raging hunger. The oysters that he
found did not, it is true, serve to fill his
belly; but he was satisfied with having
found something which barely made him
forget his hunger as it were.
His greatest uneasiness was next to know
where he should dwell for the future, to be
free from all dread of savages and wildbeasts.
His first bed had been so inconvenient, that
he
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
97
he could not think of his condition without
shuddering, if he should be obliged to pass
all his nights in the same manner.
Geo. Oh! I know very well what I would
have done.
Mr. Bill. Well, what would you have
done? Inform us.
Geo. In the first place, I would have
built a house with walls as thick as that
and with iron gates-so strong!—And then
I would have made a ditch all round with
a drawbridge, and this drawbridge I would
have lifted up every night, and then the sa-
vages must be pretty cunning if they could
have done me any harm while I was asleep.
Mr. Bill. Here is fine talking! It is a
pity that you had not been there. You
would have been able to give poor Ro-
binson excellent advice.--But--answer me
one thing-Have you ever carefully ob-
served how carpenters and masons go about
building a house
Geo. Oh! yes, many a time. The ma-
son begins with preparing the lime and
VOL. I.
E·
mixing
98
THE NEW
mixing sand with it. Then he lays one
stone upon another, and with his trowel
puts mortar between them to keep them
firmly together. Next the carpenters, with
their hatchets, cut out the rafters and place
them carefully. Then, by means of a
pully, they raise the beams to the height
of the wall and join them. Afterwards
they saw the boards for the floors, and
make laths, which they nail to the rafters
in order to place the tiles. And then-
Mr. Bill. I see you have taken particu-
lar notice how they go about building a
house. But then a mason makes use of
lime, and a trowel, and bricks; or else
stones, which must first be cut into form;
and carpenters have occasion for hatchets
and saws, and chisels, and nails, and ham-
mers. Where would you have found all
these, if you had been in Robinson's place!
Geo: Why-really I dont know.
Mr. Bill. Neither did Robinson, and for
that reason he was obliged to give up the
scheme of building a real house. He had
not
1
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
99
not a single tool in the world: nothing but
his two hands, and with these alone people
do not build such houses as we live in.
Edw. Why, then, he had only to make
himself a little hut with the branches that
he could have plucked from the trees.
Mr. Bill. And could a little hut, made
of branches, have defended him from ser-
pents, wolves, tigers, panthers, lions, and
other fierce beasts of prey?
Rich. Ah! poor Robinson, how will you
manage in this distressful situation?
Edw.
Could he shoot?
Mr. Bill. Yes, if he had only a gun, with
powder and ball; but once more I tell you,
the poor lad had nothing-absolutely no-
thing but his two hands to depend on.
When he viewed his situation, and saw
that all resources failed him, he fell again.
into his former despondency.
"To what
purpose," said he within himself, "have I
hitherto escaped perishing with hunger,
since, perhaps, this very night wild beasts
will tear me to pieces?"
E 2
He
100
THE NEW
!
He even fancied (such is the force of the
imagination) that a furious tiger was be-
fore him, with its dreadful jaws open and
ready to devour him. Thinking that the
tiger had him already by the throat, he
cried out, "Oh my poor father and mother!"
and fell to the ground half dead.
After having lain there some time in an
agony of grief and despair, he recollected
a hymn which he had heard his excellent
mother sometimes sing, when she had any
pressure of affliction on her mind. It be-
gan thus:
He who beneath Heaven's guardian wing
Hath wisely fixed his place,
May to his soul thus freely sing,
When sorrows come apace :
In God's eternal Providence
My hope redemption sees :
Blest with so powerful a defence,
My soul, be thou at ease.
The reflections contained in these words
strengthened him considerably. Two or
three times he repeated these beautiful lines
to
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
101
to himself with much devotion: after which
he exerted his strength to rise, and went up-
on another search, endeavouring to find some
cave that might serve him as a safe retreat.
But in what part of the world was he?
In South America, or elsewhere? Was he
upon an island or a continent? This was
more than he could tell as yet himself; but
he saw a pretty high hill at a distance, and
he walked towards it.
As he went along, he made this sorraw-
ful discovery, that the whole country pro-
duced nothingbut grass and trees which bore
no fruit. It is easy to imagine what gloomy
ideas a sight like this inspired him with.
He climbed up, with some difficulty, to
the top of the hill, which was pretty high,
and from which hecould see all round him
to the distance of several leagues. To his
great mortification, he perceived that he
was really in an island, within sight of which
there appeared no other land, except two
or three small islands that rose out of the
sea at the distance of a few leagues.
E 3
"Poor,
102
THE NEW
CC
Poor, unhappy wretch that I am!"
cried he, lifting slowly his trembling hands
towards Heaven: "I am, then, separated,
cut off from all men, and have no hopes of
being ever delivered from this savage place.
Oh! my poor Micted parents, I shall, then,
never see you more! I shall never be able
to ask you forgiveness for my folly! Never
shall I hear the sweet voice of a friend, of a
man!-But I deserve my fate," continued
he. "Oh Lord, thou art just in all thy
ways! I should but deceive myself were I
to complain. It is I myself that have made
my lot so miserable."
In this mournful silence he continued on
the spot, with his eyes fixed, as it were, to
the ground. "Cut off from God and man!"
was the only reflection that possessed his
mind. At length, however, thoughts more
rational and consoling came to his relief.
He threw himself upon his knees, lifted
up
his heart to Heaven, promised to be
tient and resigned to his distresses, and
prayed for strength to support them.
pa-
Harriet
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
103
1
Harriet. It was a good thing, however,
that Robinson could say his prayers in the
time of distress.
Mr. Bill. Certainly it was happy for him.
What would have become of him, then, if
he had not known that God is the Father
of all mankind; that he is supremely good,
almighty, and omnipresent? He would
have sunk under his terror and despair if
he had not formerly been taught these
great and comfortable truths. But the
idea of his heavenly Father's goodnes gave
him constantly fresh courage and consola-
tion, whenever his distresses were upon
the point of overpowering his resolution.
He now found himself much strengthen-
ed, and began to travel round the hill. All
his search was, for a long time, useless: le
could find no place where he might be in
safety. At length, he came to a little hill,.
which, in front, was as steep as a wall. Iu
In
examining this spot attentively, he found a
place that seemed to be hollowed in under
the hill, with a pretty narrow entrance to it.
1
E 4
If
104
THE NEW
If he had had a pickaxe, a crow, and
other tools, it would have been an easy
matter to hollow out a complete dwelling
under the rock, which was partly done by
nature; but he had none of these tools.
The question was, then, how he should
supply the want of them.
After puzzling his head a long time, he
began to reflect in this manner: "Some
of the trees that I see here are like the
willows of my country, which are easily
transplanted. I will pluck up a number of
these young trees, and here, before this hole,
I will plant them close together, so that
they may form a sort of wall. When they
grow up pretty high, I shall be able to sleep
within this enclosure as safely as if I was
in a house; for behind, the steep wall of
this rock will secure me, and in front, as
well as on both sides, the close row of
trees will keep off all danger."
This happy thought pleased him very
much, and he immediately set about putting
Ilis joy was still greater
when
it in execution.
ROBINSON CRUSOE,
105
:
when he saw, not far from that spot, a
beautiful and clear spring bubbling out
from the side of the hill. He hastened to
quench his thirst at it, being extremely
dry, as he had run about a good deal
during the hottest time of the day.
Geo. Was it so very warm, then, in
the island?
Mr. Bill. Yes, you may easily imagine
that it was warm. Look here (pointing to
the map,) this is the coast of South Ame-
rica, near which, propably, was situated the
island on which Robinson was cast away.
Now, you see, this part is not far from the
equinoctical line, where the sun is some-
times directly over people's heads. It is,
therefore, natural to suppose that all that
quarter must be extremely hot.
Robinson now set about plucking up out
of the ground, with his hands, some of the
young trees that I mentioned before, which
he effected with a great deal of trouble, and
carried them to the place that he had des-
tined for his dwelling. Ilere again he was
obliged
E 5
106
THE NEW
obliged to scratch a hole in the ground for
each of his trees, and as this work went
on but very slowly, the day closed by the
time that he had fixed five or six of them.
After he had finished his work, hunger
obliged him to walk down towards the shore
in order to search for oysters; but, unfor-
tunately, the tide was up, so that he found
none, and was forced for this time to go
to bed supperless. But where was his
bed?-Ile determined, until he could finish
for himself a complete and secure habita-
tion, to lie every night in the tree in which
he had lain the last night.
But, that he might not be exposed to the
same accident as had then disturbed him, he
took his garters, tied them round his body,
and fastened himself tightly to the branches
on which he lay; and then, recommend-
ing himself to his Creator, he fell asleep.
Rich. That was wisely done of him to
tie himself so.
Mr. Bill. Why, necessity is the mother
of invention. She teaches us many things
which
ROLINSON CRUSOE.
107
which we should not know but for her.
It is to this intent that our Creator hath
formed us, and this earth that we inhabit,
in such a manner that we have different
wants, which we cannot satisfy unless by
the manifold efforts of invention. If ever
we are masters of good sense and an active
understanding, it is to these wants that we
are indebted for them: for if larks fell
down out of the air into our mouths ready
roasted; if houses, beds, cloaths, victuals,
and every thing else necessary for the
preservation and comfort of our lives, grew
up of their own accord out of the ground
or on the tops of trees, quite ready and
prepared to our hand, certainly we should
do nothing else but eat, drink, and sleep,
and be as stupid as brutes as long as we
lived.
E 6
FOURTH
108
THE NEW
FOURTH EVENING.
MR. Bill. Well, my dears, where did we
leave Robinson Crusoe last night?
Rich. We left him like a bird perched
in a tree to take his night's rest.
Mr. Bill. Very well, to proceed, then,
with his story: Every thing went on that
night as well as possible; he had no fall,
and slept soundly till morning.
At break of day, the first thing that he
did was to set off towards the shore to look
for oysters, intending afterwards to return
to his work. He happened this time to go
another way, and, as he walked along, was
overjoyed to find a tree that bore large
fruit. It is true, he did not as yet know
what they might be; but he hoped to find
them good for eating, and therefore, to
make a trial, he knocked down one.
It was a large nut, something of a tri-
angular form, and as big as a young child's
head. The outward rind was composed of
filaments,

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
109
filaments, or stringy folds, as if made of
hemp. The second husk or shell was, on
the contrary, almost as hard as the shell of
a tortoise, and Robinson soon perceived
that it would serve him for a cup. This
shell is so large that it sometimes affords a
place of retirement to the little long-tailed
American monkey. The fruit within was
a sort of juicy kernal, which tasted like a
sweet almond, and in the middle of this
kernal, which was hollow, he found a most
delicious and finely flavoured milk. This
was a most agreeable treat for poor Robin-
son, who was half starved,
His empty stomach was not satisfied
with one nut, he knocked down a second,
which he ate with equal greediness. His
joy at having discovered this excellent fruit
brought tears into his eyes, and he looked
up to Heaven with sensations of the warm-
est gratitude.
The tree was tolerably large, and quite
hung with fruit; but alas! it was the
only one in the whole island,
Geo.
110
THE NLW
Geo. What sort of a tree might it be,
then? We have none such here.
Mr Bill. It was a cocoa-nut tree. They
►
grow chiefly there, in the East Indies; and
here, in the South Sea islands. There are
some of them found in the West Indies;
indeed, they are pretty common there.
Though Robinson's hunger was now sa-
tisfied, yet he did not omit going down to
theshore, to see what shew the oysters made.
that day. He found a few, indeed, but far
too few to afford him a hearty meal. He
had, therefore, great reason to thank God
for having this day furnished him with an-
other sort of food; and he did so with a
heart full of gratitude.
He carried home for his dinner the oys-
ters that he had found, and went cheerfully
about his yesterday's work again.
He had picked up on the beach a large
shell, which served him instead of a spade,
and advanced his work considerably. A
little after he discovered a plant, the stalk of
which
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
111
which was full of threads, like flax or hemp.
At another time he would not have paid
any attention to such matters, but, at pre-
sent, nothing was indifferent to him. He
examined every thing, and reflected on
every thing, in order, if possible, to apply
every thing to advantage.
Having some hopes that this plant might
be used in the same manner as flax or hemp,
he plucked a quantity of it, tied it up in
small bundles, and left them to soak in wa-
ter. Having observed, at the end of a few
days, that the thick outside skin was suffi-
ciently softened by the water, he drew out
the bundles, and spread them thinly on the
grass before the sun, the stalks being now
quite soft. As soon as ever they were pro-
perly dried, he made a trial with a large
stick to pound them and break them like
flax, and he succeeded.
Immediately he endeavoured to turn the
stringy part of these plants to use by mak-
ing small cords of it. It is true they were
not so well twisted as those made by our
rope
112
THE NEW
rope-makers here, for he had neither wheel
nor a second person to assist him. However,
they were strong enough to fasten his great
shell to the end of a stick, by which means
he was now master of an instrument not
much unlike a gardener's spade.
He then went on with his work very di-
ligently, and planted tree close by tree until
he had completely palisaded the space that
was before his intended dwelling. But, as
one single row of a tree so very pliable did
not seem a sufficient wall of defence, he
spared no labour, but' planted a second row
round the first. He then interwove the
branches of the two rows together, and, at
last, hit upon the idea of filling up with
earth the distance that was between them.
This completed his wall so solid that it
would have required a considerable force
to push it in.
Every morning and evening he watered
his little plantation with water from the
neighbouring spring, which he took up in
his cocoa shell; and he had very soon the
satisfaction
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
113
satisfaction of seeing his young trees sprout
up and flourish so as to afford a charming
view to the eye.
When he had almost entirely finished his
hedge, he spent a whole day in making a
number of thick cords, out of which he
formed, as well as he could, a ladder of
ropes.
Henry. What was that for?
Mr. Bill. I'll tell you. His design was
to make no door to his habitation, but to
plant more trees, and so stop up even the
opening that remained.
Henry. How, then, was he to go in and
out?
Mr. Bill. By the assistance of his lad-
der of ropes.
It is to be observed, that the rock which
hung over his habitation was about as high
as the second story of a house, and on the
top of the rock was a tree. To this he fast-
ened his ladder of ropes, and let it hang
down to the ground. He then tried to
climb up by it, and succeeded to admiration.
All
114
THE NEW
1
1
All this being finished, he considered
by what means he might make the little.
hollow under the rock large enough to
serve him for a habitation. He saw very
well, that with his hands alone he should
never be able to manage it. What was to
be done, then? He must find out some
tool or instrument for the purpose.
With this design he repaired to a spot
where he had seen a great number of hard
green stones scattered on the ground. Hav-
ing searched among them carefully, he at
last found one, the very sight of which
made him jump for joy; for, in effect, this
stone had the very form of a hatchet, and
even a hole to fit the handle in. Robinson
saw, at first view, that it would make an
excellent hatchet, if he could but enlarge
the hole ever so little. After a world of
pains, he at length happily accomplished
this by means of another stone; then he
fixed a pretty thick stick in it, by way of
handic, and with some of the cord which
he had made himself, he fastened it as firm
as if it had been nailed in.
ROBINSON
115
CRUSOE.
He now tried to fell a small tree, and the
attempt proving no less successful, filled
him with inexpressible joy. Had any one
offered him one hundred pounds for his
hatchet, he would not have parted, with
it, such vast advantages did he promise
himself from the use of it.
Searching still amongst those green
stones, he found two more equally fit for
use. The one had nearly the form of a
mallet, such as is used by carpenters and
stonecutters; the other was shaped like a
stout short bludgeon, having an edge or
corner at the end. Robinson carried them
both to his habitation, intending to go to
work with them immediately.
He succeeded to his wish. Laying the
edge of the one stone upon the earth and
rock, and striking it with the other resem-
bling a mallet, he knocked off several
pieces of the rock, and, in a few days, was
so far advanced in clearing out the hollow,
that it seemed large enough for him to lie
in at his ease.
He
116
THE NEW
He had before this plucked up with his
hands a quantity of grass, which he had
spread before the sun to make hay of it.
This being now sufficiently dried, he car-
ried it to his cave to make himself a good
bed.
From this time he was able to sleep like
a human creature, without being obliged,
as he had for many nights before, to perch
like a bird up in a tree. What a luxury it
was to him to stretch his weary limbs upon
a soft bed of hay! He thanked God, and
said within himself, "Oh! if my country-
men khew what it is to pass, as I have done,
several nights successively, seated upon a
hard branch of a tree, how happy would
they count themselves to be able to enjoy
the refreshment of sleep in convenient beds,
secure from accidents by falling or other-
wise! Certainly they would not let slip a
day without sincerely thanking Providence
for all the conveniences and delights which
theyenjoy."
The following day was Sunday. Ro-
binson
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
117
binson dedicated it to rest, to prayer, and
meditation. He spent whole hours on his
knees, with his eyes turned towards hea-
ven, praying to God to pardon his sins, and
to bless and comfort his poor parents.
Then, with tears of joy, he thanked his
Maker for the providential assistance that
he had experienced in a situation in which
he was cut off from the whole world; he
promised to grow better every day, and
to persevere in his filial obedience.
Harriet. Well, I think master Robinson
is grown much better than he was.
Mr. Bill. Providence foresaw that he
would grow better under affliction, and,
therefore, suffered him to undergo the trial
of it; for thus our heavenly Father acts
towards us all. It is not in his anger, but
in his tender mercy, that he sends us mis-
fortunes: he knows that they are necessary
to us, in order to render us humbler and
better. Far from being hurtful to us, they
become salutary remedies in his beneficent
hands.
That
118
THE NEW
That he might not forget the order of
days, but know regularly on what day Sun-
day would fall, Robinson thought of mak-
ing himself an almanack.
Rich. An almanack?
Mr. Bill. Yes; not a printed one, it is
true, nor quite so exact as those that we
have in Europe, but still an almanack by
which he was able to count the days regu-
larly.
Rich. And how did he manage that?
Mr. Bill. Having neither paper nor any
thing else requisite for writing, he chose
four trees that were close beside each other,
and pretty smooth on the bark. On the
largest of the four he marked every even-
ing a notch, to signify that a day was past.
When he had made seven notches, the
week was expired. Then he cut in the next
tree another notch to express a week. As
often as he had completed in the second
tree four notches, he marked on the third,
with a notch of the same sort, the revolu-
tion of a whole month! and, lastly, when
*
these
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
119
these marks that stood for months amount-
ed to twelve in number, he made a score
on the fourth tree to denote that the whole
year was expired.
Henry. But all the months are not
equally long: some have thirty-one days,
others but thirty: how then could he mark
exactly the number of days in each?
Mr. Bill. That he could reckon on his
fingers.
Rich. On his fingers?
Mr. Bill. Yes; and, if you chuse, I will
shew you how too.
All the children. Oh! dear papa, do.¹
Mr. Bill.. Well, then, observe. He
shut his left hand so; then, with the fore
finger of his right hand, he touched one
of the knuckles or finger joints of the left,
and then the hollow that is beside it, and
so on, naming the months in their order.
Every month that falls upon a knuckle has
thirty-one days, whereas the others which
fall upon the hollows between the joints.
have only thirty; excepting the month of
February
120
THE NEW
February alone, which has not so much
as thirty, but twenty-eight, and once in
every four years twenty-nine.
He began, therefore, with the knuckle
of the fore finger, and touching that, he
named the first month of the year, January.
How many days then has January ?
Rich. Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. I will go on, then, reckoning
the months upon the knuckles of my fin-
gers, and do you, Richard, as I name each,
tell me the number of days that it contains.
In the second place, therefore, February?
Rich. Should have thirty days, but it
has only twenty-eight, and sometimes twen-
ty-nine.
Mr. Bill. March?
Rich. Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. April?
Rich. Thirty.
Mr. Bill. May ?
Rich. Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. June?
Rich. Thirty.
:
Mr.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
121
Mr. Bill. July?
Rich. Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. August? (pointing to the
knuckle of the thumb.)
Rich. Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. September?
Rich. Thirty.
A
Mr. Bill. October?
Rich.
Thirty-one.
Mr. Bill. November?
Rich. Thirty.
Mr. Bill.
December?
Rich. Thirty-one days.
Mr. Bill. Well, Henry, you have reck-
oned along with us in your pocket alma-
mack, have we made it out right?
Henry. Yes, papa, you have not missed
a tittle.
Mr. Bill. Such little matters as these are
worth remembering, because you have not
always an almanack at hand, and yet there
is occasion for you sometimes to know how
many days there are in this or that month.
Rich. Oh, I'll warrant I shall not forget.
Vol. I.
Henry.
F
122
THE NEW
+
IIenry. Nor I, for I have taken parti-
cular notice.
Mr. Bill. It was thus, then, that our
friend Robinson took care not to lose the
order of time, but to know on what days
the Sabbath fell, that he might keep it
holy, after the manner of Christians.
In the mean time, he had used the great-
est part of the cocoa nuts that he had stored
up, having discovered but one tree of the
find as yet, and the shore furnished him
with so few oysters, that they were not suffi-
cient to keep him alive. He began, there-
fore, to be uneasy again concerning the ar-
ticle of food.
Hitherto fearful and cautious, he had not
dared to go to any great distance from his
dwelling. The dread of wild beasts, or of
men not much more civilized, if any were
to be found in the country, kept him at
home; but necessity at length obliged him
to conquer his reluctance, and to walk a
little farther into the island, in order, if
possible, to discover a new stock of provi-
sions.
J
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
123
sions. With this intent he resolved, the
following day, with God's blessing and pro-
tection, to traverse the whole island.
But, in order to defend himself from the
excessive heat of the sun, he spent the
whole evening making an umbrella.
Edw. Where did he find silk and whale-
bone?
Mr. Bill. He had neither silk nor whale-
bone'; nor had he either knife, scissars,
'needle, or thread; and yet--but how do
you think he set about making an um-
brella ?
Edw. That I cannot tell.
1
Mr. Bill. He wove the top of it with.
sprigs of willow, like a large round basket.
not very deep in the middle of this he
: fixed a stick, which he tied with his pack--
thread, and then he went to the cocoa-nut.
tree for some large leaves, which he fas-
tened with pins to the outside.
Rich. With pins? Where had he those
pins ?
Mr. Bill. Guess.
F2
Harriet.
124
THE NEW
}
Harriet. Oh, I can tell. He found them
among thesweepings, or between the chinks
of the floor. I find a good many there..
Rich. A wise discovery! As if one could
find pins where there was nobody to lose
them! Besides, what sweepings could
there be, or what floor in Robinson's little
cave
1
Mr. Bill. Well, who can guess? How
would you do if you wanted to fasten any
thing, and had no pins?
Rich. I would use thorns, such as grow
on the hawthorn tree.
Geo. And I would use those strong
pricklesthat we see on gooseberry bushes.
Mr. Bill. Pretty well both; however, I
must tell you, that Robinson used neither
the one nor the other, by reason that he
never saw either hawthorn or gooseberry
tree in all his island.
Rich. What then did he use?
Mr. Bill. Fish bones. The sea threw
dead fishes up on the beach, from time to
time, and when their bodies rotted away or
were
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
195.
were devoured by birds of prey, their
bones remained dry. Of these Robinson
had gathered some of the strongest and
sharpest to use as pins.
By means of them he contrived to make
up an umbrella so close that not a single
ray of the sun could penetrate it. When-
ever any new piece of work succeeded with
him, his joy was inexpressible; then he used
to say to himself, "Have not I been a great
fool to pass the best part of my youth in
idleness? Oh! if I were in Europe now,
and had all those tools at my command
that are so easy to be procured there, what
things I could make for myself! And what
a pleasure it would be to me to make up
myself the greatest part of my furniture,
and the working tools that I should have.
occasion for."
As it was not very late, he bethought
himself of trying to make a bag that might
hold his provision, if he should be so lucky
as to find any in his excursion. He turned
F 3
this
126.
THE NEW
this scheme in his thoughts for a while,
and at length succeeded in finding means
to accomplish it.
You must know, he had made a tolerable.
good stock of packthread; of this he re-
solved to weave a piece of network, and
of the network to make a bag.
Now it was thus he set about it. He
fastened across, between two trees that
were little more than a yard asunder, se-
veral threads, one under the other, and as
close as possible. This resembled exactly
what weavers call the warp. In the next
place, he joined regularly, from top to bot-
tom, thread with thread, still as close as
possible, knotting the thread that went
down with each thread that went across,
exactly in the same manner as when one
weaves a net. These threads, therefore, that
went downwards, formed what is called the
woof: and by this sort of workmanship he
in a short time completed a piece of net-
ting not unlike such as fishermen use. He
next.
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
197
next slipped off the ends of the threads.
from the trees to which they were fastened,
and joined the sides of the netting toge-
ther, closing up the bottom; thus he left
no part open but the top. Here was a bag
or pouch complete, which he hung by his
side, having fastened both ends of a stout
piece of packthread to the mouth, and
slipping the loop over his neck.
The happy success of his labour filled
him with so much joy that he was scarce
able to close his eyes all night.
Geo. I should like to have such a bag
as that.
Edw. So should I too, if we had only
some packthread.
Mrs. Bill. If you wished to enjoy as
much satisfaction from your work as Ro-
binson did from his, you should begin with
making the pack thread yourselves, and you
yourselves should prepare the emp or the
flax for that purpose; but as there is neither
flax nor hemp ripe at this season of the
year, I will furnish you with packthread.
F4
Geo-
128
THE NEW
Geo. Oh dear mamma, will you be so
good?
1
Mrs. Bill. Yes, my dear, if you desire it.
Geo. That is delightful..
Harriet. You are doing what is very
right; for if ever you should happen to be
in an island where there was not a living.
soul but yourself, you know beforehand
how to set about such things; eh, papa?:
: Mr. Bill. Right. Well, make a trial.
As to Robinson, we will let him sleep till
to-morrow. In the mean time, we shall
see if it is not possible to be as cunning
as he, and to make an umbrella..
2
;
FIFTH EVENING.
THE next evening, the company being
assembled in the usual..place, Edward
came strutting in with a pouch of network
that
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
129.
that he made himself, and which drew the
eyes of the whole company upon him. In-
stead of an umbrella, he had borrowed a
sieve from the cook, and stuck a broom-
stick through it. This he held over his-
head as he came in, and marched up to the
table with a great deal of importance and
solemnity..
Mrs. Bill. Bravo. Edward! why this.
is excellent, I had almost taken you for
Robinson Crusoe himself.
Rich. Ah! if I had but had a few mi-
nutes more time to finish my bag, I could
have come in the same manner.
Geo.. So could I too.
Mr. Bill. Well Edward has shewn that
other people can make pouches of network
as well as Robinson Crusoe.. But, my man,
your umbrella is not worth a farthing.
Edw. Oh, papa, I only make shift with.
this for the present, because I was not able.
to finish another in the time.
Mr. Billingsley (opening a closet door, and
fetching out an umbrella which he had made
himself.)
F5
130
THE NEW·´`·.
himself.) What say you to this, Mr. Ro-.
binson Crusoe?
Edw. Ah! that is a fine one.
Mr. Bill. I keep it until we come to the
end of the story.. Then he who shall have
best performed the several pieces of work
mentioned in it, shall be our Robinson
Crusoe, and I will make him a present of
the umbrella.
Geo, And must he really make a cave
top, or a hut?
Mr. Bill. Why not?
All the Children. Oh, that is excellent,
that is delightful.
Mr. Bill. Robinson could scarce wait for
the daylight. He rose before the sun, and
prepared for his journey. He slipped his.
pouch string over his neck, put a strong
cord round his waist, by way of girdle, in
which he stuck his hatchet instead of
sword, took his umbrella upon his shoulder,
and so courageously began his march.
[See the Frontispiece.]
He first paid a visit to his cocoa-nut tree,
to furnish his bag with a nut or two, Pro-
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
131
vided with some of this excellent food, he
went straight down to the sea-side to seek
also some oysters; and, having got a small
store of these two articles, in case of ne-
cessity, he took a slight breakfast, with a
drink of fresh water from his spring, and
marched off.
The morning was delightful; the sun was
just then rising in all his glory, and seemed
as if he ascended out of the sea. A thou-
sand birds, of different sorts and the great-
est variety of admirable plumage, were then
singing their morning song, and rejoicing
at the return of light. The air was as pure
and as fresh as if it had been but just then
created, and the plants and flowers exhaled-
the most exquisite perfume.
Robinson felt his heart expand with joy
and gratitude. "Even here," said he,
"eyen here doth the Creator of the Uni-
verse shew himself the most beneficent of
beings?" He then mixed his voice with
the melody of the birds, and sang a morn-
ing hymn, which he had formerly learnt,
and still retained in memory; :
132
.
THE NEW .
"L
As his fear of wild animals, whether men.
or beasts. was not yet entirely dissipated;
lie avoided, in his walk, as much as possible,"
all forests and thickets, chusing, on the
contrary, such grounds as allowed him an
open prospect on every side ;- but unfortu-
nately these grounds were the barrenest
parts of the whole island, so that he had
gone a pretty long way without finding.
any thing that could repay him for his-
trouble, or be the least serviceable to him.
At last he observed a parcel of plants,
which he resolved to inspect a little closer
they were growing together in tufts, and-
formed a kind of little coppice. Some had
reddish blossoms; others white; a third sort,
instead of blossoms, were covered with little
green apples, about the size of a cherry.
He eagerly bit one of these apples, but
found it unfit for eating, which so vexed,
him, that he plucked up the whole tuft, and
was going to fling it away with all his force,
when he perceived, to his great surprise, a
number of round knobs hanging from the
roots.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
133.
roots of the tuft. He immediately sus-
pected that these were properly the fruit
of the plant, and, therefore, began to.
examine them.
But, however, this time his taste disap-
pointed him; the fruit was hard and disa-
greeable to the palate. Robinson had a
mind to throw the whole away; but fortu-
nately he recollected that a thing should'
not be reckoned absolutely useless, because
we cannot all at once discover the utility
of it. He, therefore, put a few of these
knobbed fruit into his pouch, and con-
tinued his walk.
Rich. I know what these knobbed fruit
were.
Mr. Bill. Come, what do you think
they were?
Rich. Why, they were potatoes; they
grow exactly as you have described these
knobs.
Henry. And America is their original
soil too.
Geo, Aye, it was from that country that
}
Sir
9
134.
THE NEW.
Sir Francis Drake brought them. But
Robinson was very stupid not to know.
potatoes.
Mr. Bill.
Would
Would you know them?
Geo. Law! I have seen potatoes, and
eat of them a hundred times. I am very
fond of them.
Mr. Bill. But Robinson had, perhaps,
never seen any of them; at least, as they.
grow in the ground,
:
Gro.
No?
Mr. Bill. No: consider, that was forty
or fifty years ago, when they were by no
means so common in some parts of Eng-
gland as they are at present.
Geo. Oh! then I beg his pardon.
*
: Mr. Bill. You see, my dear George,
how wrong it is to be too hasty in blaming
others. We should always put ourselves
in their place, and first ask the question if
we could have done better than they, If
you yourself had never scen potatoes, nor
heard in what manner they should be drest,
you would have been as much puzzlęd as
Robinson
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
185
'4
Robinson to find out the use of them. Let .
this teach you never to think yourself
cleverer than other people.
Geo. It shall, papa.
· Mr. Bill. Robinson continued his walk,
but very slowly, and with a great deal of
caution. The least noise, made by the wind
in shaking the trees and the thickets, star-
tled him, and made him put his hand to
his hatchet to defend himself in case of
need. But he always saw, to his great joy,
that his fright was without foundation.
At length he arrived on the banks of a
rivulet, where he resolved to make his
dinner. He seated himself at the foot of
a large branchy tree, and was just going
to regale himself heartily, when, all at
once, a noise, at a distance, threw him
again into a terrible fright.
He looked round, with terror in his
countenance, and, at length, perceived a
whole troop of--
Edw. Oh la! savages, I suppose.
Geo. Or else lions and tigers.
AX
Mr.
136.
THE NEW
1
•
Mr. Bill. Neither one nor the other;
but a troop of wild animals, which have
some resemblance to our sheep, except that
on their back they bear a small bunch like
that of a camel. As to their size, they
were very little larger than a sheep. If
you would wish to know what these ani-
mals were, and how they were called, I.
will tell you.
Rich. Oh! yes, papa, if you please.
Mr. Bill. They are called lamas; their
country is properly that part of America.
which belongs to the Spaniards, and is call-
ed Peru. There, before the discovery of
that extensive.country by Francis Pizarro,
and Almagro, the Peruvians had tamed
this animal, and were accustomed to load.
it, and use it for a beast of burthen, as we
do horses and mules. Of its wool they
made stuffs for cloathing.
Rich. Then the people of Peru were
not so savage as the other Americans.
Mr. Bill. Not by a great deal. They liv-
ed in houses properly built; as did also the
Mexicans
Berich del. &Set
6

ROBINSON CRusoe.
197
Mexicans (here in North America); they
had built magnificent temples, and were
governed by kings.
Geo. Is it not from this country that the
Spaniards draw all that gold and silver for
which they go every year to America, in
their galleons, as you have told us?
Mr. Bill. The same.-Robinson seeing
these lamas approach, felt a violent desire to
eat some roast meat, which he had not tasted
for so long a time. He thought, therefore,
of killing one of these lamas; and for that
purpose he stood close beside the tree, with
his hatchet of flint in his hand, waiting until
the beast should, perhaps, pass so close to
him, that he might strike it with his hatchet.
It happened as he expected. These ani-
mals, walking on without suspicion, and
probably having never been disturbed by
any living creature, passed by, free from,
the least dread of danger, close to the tree
where Robinson stood in ambuscade; and.
one of the smallest of them coming within.
his reach, he gave it so effectual a stroke on
the
138
THE NEW-
the nape of the neck, that he laid it dead
in a moment.
!
Harriet. Oh fy! how could he do so?-
The poor little sheep!
Mrs. Bill. And why should he not,
Harriet?
Harriet. Nay the poor little thing had
done him no harni, however; and so he
might very well have let it live.
of
Mrs. Bill. Certainly, he might so; but
he had occasion for the flesh of this animal
for his food and nourishment; and dost
thou not know that God hath permitted.
us to make use of animals whenever we
have the like occasion?
Mr. Bill. To kill any living creature.
without necessity, or to torture it, even
barely to teaze it, is cruelty, and no good
person will do so; but to draw all the ad-
vantage possible from them, and even to
kill them and use their flesh for our nou-
rishment, is not forbidden. Besides, do
not you know, as I explained to you the
other
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
139
other day, that it is very well for animals
that we should deal thus with them?
Rich. Ah! very true; if we had no oc-
casion for animals, we should not take care
of them, and in that case they would not
be near so well off as at present. How
many of them would be starved to death.
in a hard winter!
Henry. Yes; and they would suffer
still more if they were not killed, but left
to die of sickness and old age, because they
cannot assist each other as men do.
Mr. Bill. Again, we must not suppose.
that the death to which we put animals
causes them a great deal of pain. They
are not sensible beforehand that they are
going to be killed, so that they are quiet
and contented to the very last monent;
and the feeling of pain, while they are kil-
ling, is soon past.
Robinson never thought of asking him-
self how he was to dress the flesh of this
young lama, until the moment that he had
killed it.
Harriet.
140
THE NEW
Harriet.
it or roast it ?
Dear me ! could not he boil
Mr. Bill. That is what he would have
done with all his heart, but, unfortunately,
he had not a single article for the purpose;
he had neither pot nor spit, and what is
worse, he had not even fire.
Harriet. No fire? Why, then, all he
had to do was to light one.
Mr. Bill. True, if he had a flint and
steel; tinder and matches; but he had
none of them.
Rich. I know what I would have done.
Mr.Bill. What, pray?
Rich. I would have rubbed two bits of
dry woood one against the other, until
they took fire. I recollect, that is the
method used by some savage people. We
read it in a collection of voyages.
Mr. Bill. Robinson had exactly the-
same idea. He took up the lama, there-
fore, upon his shoulders, and turned his.
steps homewards.
On the way, he made another discovery,.
which
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
141
This was
which afforded him infinite joy.
a number of lemon-trees, seven or eight,
round which, on the ground, he found se-
veral ripe ones that had fallen. He ga-
thered them up carefully, marked the spot
where these trees grew, and, quite happy
and content with his acquisition, hastened
home to his habitation.
There his first business was to skin the
young lama.
He effected this by means
of a sharp flint, which served him for a
knife. He stretched the skin in the sun as
well as he could in order to dry it, because
he foresaw that it might be of service to him.
Rich. Why, what could he make of that?
Mr. Bill. Oh! a great many things. In
the first place, his shoes and stockings be-
gan already to be full of holes. He thought
that, when his shoes were quite gone, he
might make soles of this skin, and fasten
them under his feet, so as not to be obliged
to walk quite barefoot. Besides, the thoughts
of winter troubled him not a little, and he
was glad that he had found a way to furnish
himself
#142
THE NEW
himself with fur against the severity of the
cold.
It is true, he might have spared himself
this uneasiness: for, in the country where
he now was, there was never any winter.
Geo. Never
Never any winter?
Mr. Bill. The cold of winter is seldom
felt in any of those hot climates between
the two tropics. I was speaking to you
about them lately; have you forgot how
they are called?
Henry. The Torrid Zone.
Mr. Bill. Right. However, to make
amends for this want of winter, they have,
during two or three months of the year, in-
cessant rains. As to Robinson he knew
nothing of all that, because, in his youth,
he would not suffer himself to be properly
instructed. History, geopraphy, and every
other improving science, were tiresome
and hateful to him.
Rich. But, papa, I think, for all that,
that we have read once how very high
-mountains, like the Peak of Teneriff, are
always
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
143
always covered with snow; and how on
that ridge of mountains which bounds Chili
on the East, and extends from Peru to the
Straits of Magellan, snow is to be seen the
whole year.
It must certainly be always
winter there; and yet these places are
between the tropics.
Mr. Bill. You are right, my dear
Richard. Situations very high and moun-
tainous are an exception; for upon the
tops of these high mountains there is com
monly a perpetual snow. Do you remem-
ber too what I told you of some countries
in the East Indies, when we lately went
over them on the map?
Rich. Yes; that, in some countries there,
summer and winter are but two or three
leagues asunder. In the island of Ceylon,
which belongs to the Dutch; and there
also-where-where was it?
Mr. Bill. In the peninsula on this side
of the Ganges: for when, on one side of
the Gaut mountains, it is winter, namely,
upon the coast of Malabar, on the other
side
144
THE NEW
side of those mountains, that is, upon the
coast of Coromandel, it is summer, and so
alternately. The same is the case also in
the island of Ceram, one of the Moluccas,
where a man needs only to travel three
leagues to get out of winter into summer,
or out of summer into winter.
But here have we travelled very far from
our friend Robinson. Observe how, at
one spring, our thoughts can transport
themselves in the twinkling of an eye to
places distant from us by many thousands.
of leagues. From America we have taken
a flight to Asia, and now-take care-hey
pass! we are back again in America, at
Robinson Crusoe's island. Is not this
wonderful"!
•
After he had skinned the lama, taken
out its bowels, and cut off a 'hind quarter
to roast, his first care was to provide a spit.
For this he cut down a young slender
willow-tree, peeled off the rind, and made
it sharp at one end; after which he chose
a couple of forked branches to hold
up
the
spit.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
145
spit. Having cut them of an equal length,
and sharp at the ends, he stuck them into
the ground, opposite to each other; put the
joint on the spit, which he then laid on the
two forked sticks; and great indeed was
his joy when he saw how well his spit went
round.
He wanted nothing now but, what is
most necessary of all, fire. In order to
produce it by rubbing, he cut two pieces
of wood from a dry trunk, and immediately
fell to work. He rubbed so briskly, that
the sweat ran down his face in great drops;
but he could not accomplish his purpose;
for when the wood was heated until it
smoked, just then he found himself so fa-
tigued, that he was under an absolute ne.
cessity to stop a few moments and recover
strength; in the mean time, the wood
cooled a little, and his whole labour be-
came useless.
Here again he had a lively instance of
the helplessness of man in a state of soli-
Vol. I.
G
tude,
}
146
THE NEW
}
}
tude, and what mighty advantages the so-
ciety of other men affords us.
He wanted but another man to go on
rubbing when he was tired, and then he
certainly would have set the piece of wood
on fire; but those interruptions, which he
could not avoid, rendered the thing impos-
sible.
Rich. And yet I always thought that the
savages produced fire by rubbing.
Mr. Bill. So they do. But then these
savages are generally much stronger than
we Europeans, who are brought up a great
deal too delicately. In the next place,
they know better how to set about it. They
take two pieces of different wood, one soft,
the other hard, and they rub the latter with
a great deal of rapidity against the former,
which, at length, takes fire. Or else, again,
they make a hole in one of the bits of wood,
into which they put the end of the other,
and then turn it between their hands, with
so quick and incessant a motion, that at
length it begins to burn.
Of
ROBINSON CRUSOE
147
Of all this Robinson knew not one tittle,
and therefore did not succeed.
At last he threw away the pieces of wood,
sat down upon his bed of hay in a melan-
choly mood, supporting his head upon his
hand, and, sighing heavily, cast a look now
and then upon the fine joint of meat which
was likely now to remain on the spit with-
out roasting. Then suddenly reflecting
what would become of him in winter if he
had no fire, he felt such piercing anxiety.
at the thought, that he was obliged to rise.
precipitately and walk about, in order to
breathe more at his ease.
As his spirits were a good deal agitated,
he grew thirsty, and went to the spring
with a cocoa nut shell to fetch some water.
With this he mixed the juice of a lemon,
which made a most excellent drink, and
afforded him unspeakable refreshment in a
moment when he stood extremely in need
of it..
In the mean time, the sight of his meat
upon the spit made his mouth water; he
ardently
G 2
148
THE NEW
4
ardently longed for a little slice of it. He
recollected at length to have heard that
the Tartars put the meat which they mean
to eat under their horses saddles, and so
bake it, as it wère, at full gallop. This, said
he to himself, might be done as well by
another method, and he resoled to try.
No sooner said than done. He went to
seek two pieces of stone, pretty broad and
smooth, of the same sort as that of which
his hatchet was made. Between these two
stones he placed a piece of meat that had
no bones, and began immediately to strike
without intermission upon the uppermost
stone, with his stone mallet. After he had
done this for five or six minutes, the stone
began to grow hot, which made him con-
tinue to strike with redoubled activity, so
that in less than half an hour, the meat,
partly by the heat of the stone, and partly
by the pressure and weight of the blows,
was grown quite tender and fit to eat.
No doubt the taste of it was not altoge-
ther so good as if it had been properly
roasted;
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
149
1oasted; but to Robinson, who had been so
long a time without tasting meat, it was a
delicious morsel. "O you,
» he cried,
"O you amongst my countrymen, whose
delicate stomachs are often qualmish at the
sight of the best food in the world, if it
does not exactlysuit the depravedsensuality
of your appetites, if you were only a week
in my place, how contented would you be
all the rest of your lives with whatever food
Providence should send you! How careful
would you be of despising good victuals,
and of shewing your ingratitude to the all-
nourishing bounty of Heaven!"
In order to make this meat more savoury,
he squeezed a little lemon juice upon it,
and then he made such a meal as he had
not made for a long time. Neither did he
forget to thank, from the bottom of his
heart, the Author of all Goodness for this
new benefit.
When he had made an end of eating, he
debated in his own mind what work would
be the most necessary to set about. The
G 3
dread
:
150
THE NEW
dread of winter, which had but a little be-
fore affected him so strongly, made him
think of taking or killing a great number
of lamas, merely to provide himself with
skins; and, as these animals seemed to be
exceedingly tame, he hoped to accomplish
this intent without much trouble.
With this hope he went to bed, and a
sound refreshing sleep repaid him richly for
all his fatigues during the day.
SIXTH EVENING.
}
MR. BILLINGSLEY continued the story
of Robinson Crusoe in these words:
Our friend Robinson slept till it was
as pret-
ty far in the day. He was frightened, when
he awoke, to find it so late, and, rising
briskly, he was going directly to take the
field

-------------
De bond can she combats, sagte henenden kan va
A
ཟ
------
My A
·
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
151
field against the lamas; but the heavens.
did not permit him.
For no sooner did he put his head out
of the cave, than he was obliged to draw
it in again.
Harriet.
How was that papa?
Mr. Bill. It rained as hard as it could
pour, so that there was no possibility of
going out. He resolved, therefore to wait
until the shower was over.
But there appeared no likelihood of this;
on the contrary, it grew more and more
violent. It was accompanied also with
lightning so bright, that his cave, which
commonly was pretty dark, seemed to be
all in a blaze; and then the flashes were
followed by such claps of thunder as he had
never heard. The earth trembled under
the storm, and the echoes of the mountains
repeated the sound of the thunder so often,
that the tremendous roar seemed to be with-
out end.
As Robinson had not received a good
G 4
educa-
152
THE NEW
education, it was natural enough for him
to be foolishly afraid of the storm.
Geo. What, afraid of thunder and light-
ning?
Mr. Bill. Yes, so frightened, that he did
not know where to hide himself
Geo. Why, it is something grand; how
could it frighten him?
Mr. Bill. I cannot well assign a reason
for this fear. Perhaps it is, that the col-
lection of sulphur, salt, and nitre, which
produces the explosion of thunder, by tak-
ing fire, does, sometimes, in its course, set
buildings on fire, and destroy the lives of
those who are exposed to it.
Rich. Yes; but these accidents are very
rare.
Mr. Bill. Besides, how many advantages
does the storm bring with it! It purges
the air of sulphureous vapours; it renders
the air much purer and fitter to promote
the vegetation of plants; the burning heat
of the weather it renders cool and tempe-
rate;
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
153
rate; and, last of all, it presents us with the
grandest and most awful spectacle in nature.
Harriet. I love to see the lightning
dearly. Papa, will you let us go out with
you when it thunders, that we may ob-
serve the course of the lightning?
Mr. Bill. With all my heart.-Robin-
son, as you remember, had been ill-in-
structed in his youth. This was the reason
why he knew not how great an advantage
storms are; how they clear the air, and
make every thing grow better in the fields
and gardens; and how, consequently, they
contribute to refresh and give, as it were,
new life to both men and animals, trees
and plants.
During the storm, he sat in a corner of
his cave, with his hands clasped together,
and oppressed with most dreadful anxiety.
The rain, mean while, ran down in streams,
the lightnings flashed, and the thunder
roared incessantly. It was almost noon.
day, and the violence of the storm had not,
in the least, abated.
G 5
Robinson
- 154
THE NEW
Robinson was not hungry; his terror had
entirely taken away his appetite; but his
imagination was disquieted with the most
frightful ideas.
"The time is come," said he to himself,
"when God will make me suffer the pu-
nishment due to my transgressions. He has
with drawn from me his fatherly protection.
I shall perish; I shall never behold my
poor parents again."
Mr. Mered. I must confess, I am not
well pleased at all with my friend Robin-
son this time.
Edw. Why not, Sir?
Mr. Mered. Had not his merciful Crea-
tor done enough already in his favour, to
convince him that he never forsakes those
who trust in him sincerely, and whose con-
trition is undissembled? Had he not saved
him from the most imminent peril of
death? Had he not already assisted him in
such a manner, that he had ample reason
never to fear perishing with hunger?-And
yet
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
155
yet to be so desponding! Fy, fy! It has
not a good aspect.
Mrs. Bill. I am of your opinion, Mr.
Meredith; nevertheless, let us have com-
passion on the poor youth. It was but very
lately that he had begun to think at all, and,
consequently, it was impossible for him to
have made so great a progress as one who
had studied from his earliest years to be-
come always wiser and better.
Mr. Bill. My dear, you are right. Your
compassion for poor Robinson is as just as
it is worthy of your tender nature. I my-
self begin to have a considerable regard
for him, as he has been some time past in
the right way.
While he sat thus desponding, over-
whelmed with trouble and disquiet, the
storm, at length, began to abate. As the
claps of thunder became less loud, and the
rain came down lighter, hope by degrees
revived in his breast. He thought he
should now be able to set out on his expe-
dition against the lamas, and was going to
take
G`6
156
THE NEW
take his hatchet and hig bag, when, all at
-once-what do you think?-he fell back-
wards, quite stunned and senseless.
Rich. Hey-day! What was the matter
with him, then?
It
Mr. Bill. Exactly over his head there
burst the terriblest noise imaginable: the
earth trembled, and Robinson was thrown
backwards, and fell like a dead man.
seems the lightning had struck against the
tree which grew on the top of the cave, and
shattered it all to pieces, with a sound so
tremendous as deprived poor Robinson of
his senses, and he actually thought he was
killed.
He remained on the ground a conside-
rable time before he recovered his senses.
At, length, perceiving that he was still alive,
he rose up, and the first object that he be-
held before the door of his cave was part
of the tree which the lightning had torn in
pieces, and thrown down. A fresh misfor-
tune for Robinson. How was he now to
fasten
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
157
fasten his ladder of ropes, if the whole tree
was broken down, as he thought it was?
As the rain had now totally ceased, and
the thunder was no longer heard, he took
courage, at last, to go out; and then what
did he see?
That which, in a moment, filled him
with gratitude and love towards his Creator,
and covered him with confusion for suffering
himself to fall into despondency, as he had
done. You must know the trunk of the tree
which had been struck by the lightning
was all on fire. Thus Robinson found him-
self, in a moment, master of that which he
had most wanted'; and thus Divine Provi-
dence had taken the most particular care
of him, exactly at the moment when he ima-
gined, in his despair, that he was entirely
abandoned. Full of inexpressible feelings
of joy and gratitude, he lifted up his hands
towards Heaven, and, shedding a flood of
tears, he thanked, with a loud voice, the af-
fectionate Father of the Universe, who go-
verns all, and who,- even when he permits
t
the
158
THE NEW
:
the most terrifying events to take place,
acts ever by the wisest and most charitable
reasons. "Oh!" said he, "what, then, is
man, this poor worm of the earth, whose
views are so confined? What is he, to dare
to murmur against that which God hath
brought to pass by means inscrutable to
all mankind?”
From that time he had fire, without hav-
ing had the least trouble in lighting it;
from that time it was easy for him to keep
the fire in; and from that time he had rea-
son to be less uneasy about his subsistence
in this desert island. The design that he
had upon the lamas was dropped for to-day,
because Robinson was desirous to make
use of the fire immediately, and roast his
meat, which had been upon the spit ever
since yesterday.
As the fire had not yet reached the lower
part of the tree, to which his ladder of ropes
was fastened, he could mount in perfect
security. He did so, took a burning splin-
ter of the tree, descended again into the en-
closure
"..
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
159
closure before his cave, kindled a good fire
under his meat, and then climbed up once
more to put out that which was still burn-
ing in the trunk of the tree. This he
effected in a short time.
And now he set about performing the
duty of a cook. He tended the fire and
turned the spit very carefully. The sight
of the fire rejoiced him infinitely; he look-
ed upon it as a precious gift which God
had sent him from the clouds, and while
he reflected on the great advantages that'
he should enjoy from the possession of it,
his eyes were often turned with gratitude
towards Heaven. And during the rest of
his life, as often as he saw or thought of
fire, he never failed to say within himself,
"That also God gave me."
Mr. Mered. Fire, which preserves all
that breathe on this earth, is an emblem of
the Divinity; it is the noblest of all ele-
ments.
Mr. Bill. Hence it is that the worship
of fire hath been very common amongst the
ignorant
160
THE NEW
I
ignorant pagans. At Rome it was preserv-
ed in the temple of Vesta; at Athens, in
that of Minerva; at Delphi, in that of
Apollo; and you must remember how
much it was reverenced in Persia.
带
​Mr. Mered. Yes, but thank Heaven we
are better instructed, and know that fire
is not God, but a gift of God's bounty,
like water, earth, and air, which he hath
created from the love he bears us.
Mr.Bill. Robinson, during his repast the
day before, had only regretted the want of
salt, which would have improved the taste
of the meat that he dressed by blows of the
mallet. He hoped, however, in time to find
some salt in his island; for the present he
contented himself with going to the shore,
and bringing home, in a cocoa-nut shell,
some sea water, with which he sprinkled
his meat several times, salting it in this
manner, in default of a better.
His meat was now done. The joy with
which he cut off the first slice, and put the
first bit into his mouth, cannot be describ-
1
ed,
RO INSON CRUSOE.
161
ed, but by one, who, like him, should not
have tasted for a month before a single
mouthful of meat properly drest, and who
should have almost given up the hopes of
ever tasting any such again.
After this, the main point was how to
keep in his fire always.
1
Geo. That he could easily manage by
adding constantly fresh wood.
Mr. Bill. Very good. But at night,
while he was asleep, if there came a sudden
shower, what was he to do then?
Harriet. But, papa, I'll tell you what;
I would have made the fire in my cave
where the rain could not come.
Mr. Bill. No bad thought. But, unfor-
tunately his cave was so small, that it just
served him to lie down in: and, then,
chimney he had none; so that the smoke
would have been exceedingly inconvenient
to him; he could not have borne it.
Harriet. Nay, in that case I do not
know how to assist him.
Rich. What a terrible situation! There
must
1
162
THE NEW
must always happen something to puzzle
poor
Robinson. One would think, now and
then, that he was made completely happy ;
but, your humble servant, something new
comes all at once to eross him.
Mr. Bill. This may shew you how ex-
tremely difficult it is for one man singly to
provide for all his own necessitics, and how
great the advantages are that we enjoy from
civil life. My dear children, we should be
but poor miserable beings, if we were
obliged each of us to live by himself, and
if nobody were to receive any assistance
from his fellow-creatures. A thousand
hands are not sufficient to prepare what
each of us wants every day.
Rich. Oh! papa!
4
Mr. Bill. What, do you think that in-
credible? Well, let us reckon how many
things you have had occasion for this day.
In the first place, you have slept till sun-
rise this morning, and that on a good bed.
Rich. With a mattress underneath.
Mr. Bill. Very well. Mattresses are
stuffed
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
163
!
stuffed with horse-hair: this horse-hair re-
quires two hands to cut it, two more to
weigh and sell it, two to pack it up and
send it off, two to receive it and unpack it,
and two, again, to sell it to the saddler or
upholsterer: lastly, the upholsterer's hands
find employment in picking it and filling
the mattress with it. The cover of this
mattress is ticking; where has that been
made?
Rich. At the weaver's.
Mr. Bill. And how?
Rich. In a loom, with thread, and a
shuttle, and paste, and-
Mr. Bill. That is enough. How many
hands did it take to make the loom? Let
us be moderate, and say, for instance, 20.
Paste is made of flour. What a number of
things must be done before we can have
flour! How many hundreds of hands must
be moved, to make every thing that be-
longs to a mill, where wheat is ground into
flour!-But to return to the weaver: thread
is
1
THE NEW
164
[
is what he principally uses; where does
he get this?
Rich. From the women who spin it.
Mr. Bill. Out of what?
Rich. Flax.
Mr. Bill. And do you know, again,
through how many hands flax must pass
before it can be
spun?
Rich. Oh yes, we were reckoning that
lately. In the first place, the husbandman
sifts the flax seed, that it may not be mixed
with tares: then the land must be dunged
and ploughed twice; after which they sow,
and then harrow. Next, when the flax be-
gins to sprout up, a number of women and
girls come to weed it. Again, when it grows
to a proper height, they pluck up the stalks,
and ripple them, in order to pull off the
little round heads that contain the seed.
Edw. Yes, and then they tie the stalks
together in bundles, and steep them in
water.
Henry. And when the bundles have been
steeped
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
165
}
steeped long enough, they take them up
out of the water.
Geo. And spread them in the sun to dry.
Charlotte. Then they clear the flax from
the hulls with a break.
Harriet. Not yet, my dear Charlotte;
it must be well pounded first.
Charlotte. Very true, and then they
break it, and then-
Rich. And then they scutch it, and then
they hackle it to separate it from the tow.
Mr. Bill. Now, put together all these
things, which must necessarily be done be-
fore we can have linen; consider, also, how
many sorts of different labours are required
to make the instruments used by the hus-
bandman, the flax-dresser, and the spinner;
and you must own I do not exceed the
truth in saying that more than a thousand
hands have been employed in the making
of your mattress.
Geo. A thousand hands! It is wonder-
ful, and yet it is very true.
Mr. Bill. In the next place, consider how
many
166
THE NEW
many things you have daily occasion for,
and then pray tell me, should it surprise us
that Robinson Crusoe found himself every
now and then puzzled and at a stand, when
not another hand in the world but his own
worked for him, and when he had not a
single one of those instruments by means
of which things in this part of the world
are so easily and expeditiously made.
At this time, therefore, what puzzled him
was the finding of some method or other to
hinder his dear fire from going out. Some-
times he scratched his head as if he would
have plucked a lucky thought out of it;
again, letting his hands fall, he would walk
backwards and forwards in his enclosure,
not knowing what to have recourse to. At
last he fixed his eyes by chance on the rock
at the edge of his cave, and that moment
the thought struck him how he was to act.
Henry. Eh! how was that?
Mr. Bill. There projected out of the
rock, about a yard from the ground, a
very large and thick ledge of stone.
Charlotte,
1
ROBINSON ד
167
CRUSOE.
Charlotte. How large might it be?
Mr. Bill. Why really I have not been
able to procure the exact proportions of
it; but I will suppose, at a guess, that it
was about as long as I am, its breadth and
thickness might be a yard and a half.
Though it had rained very hard, the
ground under this large piece of the rock
was perfectly dry. Robinson saw at once
that this spot would answer every purpose
of a fire-place, being completely sheltered
from all accidents; but he saw, moreover,
that it would require no great trouble to
make a proper kitchen under the stone,
together with hearth and chimney, and
therefore resolved to go immediately to
work about it.
With his space he hollowed the ground
under the great stone, about a yard deep.
After that, he conceived the idea of en-
closing this ground, at the side, with two
small walls reaching up to the stone itself.
Geo. But how could he make walls?
Mr. Bill. He had been accustomed, you
know
168
THE NEW
1
know, minutely to remark every thing that
he met with, and he always asked himself
the question, "What use may be made of
this?" He had, amongst other things, ob-
served a particular sort of clay in one part
of his island, upon sight of which he imme-
diately said to himself, "Perhaps this clay
would make good bricks, if ever I should
have occasion to build a wall."
At that moment he recollected the clay,
and, having nearly finished hollowing out
his kitchen, he took his spade and his
knife of flint, and repaired to the spot
where this clay was to be found, in order
to set about the work without delay.
The heavy rain had made the clay so
soft, that he found no difficulty in shaping
it to the form of bricks, and cutting it
smooth with his knife. After preparing a
pretty good number of these bricks in a
short time, he placed them, beside each
other, in a spot where the sun shone all day.
He determined to go on with this work the
next day, and in the mean time returned
home
1
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
169
home to eat the rest of his roast meat, the
eagerness with which he had worked hav-
ing sharpened his appetite. That he might
regale himself in a princely manner on
such a day of rejoicing as the present, he
indulged himself by adding to his supper
a cocoa-nut from the mall number of
those that still remained.
The repast was excellent. "Ah!" said
Robinson, sighing from the bottom of his
heart, which was partly content and partly
sorrowful, "Ah! how happy should I be
at this moment, if I had but one single
friend, merely a man, were it the most
miserable beggar in the world, to bear me
company; one single man, whom I might
call my friend, while I professed to him an
equal friendship! Had I, at least, the hap
piness of being master of some tame animal,
a dog or a cat, to whom I might shew kind-
ness in order to gain its affection! But to
live thus solitary, absolutely cut off from
every living creature, and as if I were the
Vol. I.
H
only
170
THE NEW
only being upon the earth!"--Here a
few tears dropped down his cheeks.
He then recalled to memory the time,
when, having it in his power to enjoy the
sweet society of his brothers and other com-
panions, he nevertheless had frequently
quarrelled and disputed with them: the
recollection of this filled him with bitter
sorrow. "Ah!" said he to himself, "how
little I then knew the value of a friend, and
the impossibility of doing without the love
and esteem of our neighbours, if we would
live happy! Oh, if I could now begin to
pass those days over again, with what com-
plaisance and good-nature would I behave
towards my brothers and other children!
How patiently would I put up with small
offences, and how would I exert myself to
charm every body with my gentleness and
good behaviour, and force them to love
me in their turn! Heavens! Why did I
not know how to value the happiness of
friendship until I had lost that happiness-
alas! lost it for ever?"
}
..
With
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
171
With these words he turned his ey e sac
cidentally towards the entrance of his little
lodge, and perceived a spider which had
spread its web in a corner. The thought
of lying under the same roof with some
living creature so filled him with joy, that
he did not trouble himself in the least
about the species of the animal. He re-
solved to catch flies every day for this
spider, to shew it that it lived in a place
of freedom and friendship, and in order
to make it tame, if it was possible.
As it was still day, and the air, freshened
by the storm, was infinitely agreeable to
the sense, Robinson did not chuse to go to
bed yet, and, that he might employ the
time in something useful, he took up his
spade again, and began to hollow out the
ground for his kitchen. In doing this, he
struck all at once upon something hard
that was in the earth, and was very near
breaking his spade.
He took it at first for a stone; but what
was his astonishment, when, having drawn
H2
out
172
THE NEW
1
1
$
out a great heavy lump of something, he
discovered it to be-pure gold!
Rich. Gracious! Well, he certainly has
surprising luck, this Mr. Robinson Crusoe.
Mr. Bill. Surprising luck, indeed! This
mass of gold was so thick, that, had it been
coined, it would have produced upwards
of 10,0001. Behold him, therefore, at pre-
sent, a man of vast fortune! What a num-
ber of things could he procure himself
now! He could build himself a fine house,
he could have a carriage, horses, footmen,
apes, monkies; he could-
Geo. Ay; but where was he to have all
these things in his island? There was no-
body there that had any thing to sell
Mr. Bill. Oho! I had forgot.--Robin-
son, however, did not; so that, instead of
rejoicing for the treasure that he had found,
he kicked it from him with contempt, and
said, "Lie there, miserable metal, which
men in general covet so greedily, and
which they purchase with so many base
actions and even crimes! Of what use art
thou
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
173
thou to me? Oh! that, in thy place, I had
found a good lump of iron, with which I
might, perhaps, have made myself a hatchet
or a knife! How willingly would I give
thee for a handful of iron nails, or for
some useful instrument!"-He left, there-
fore, all this precious treasure lying neglect-
ed on the ground, and afterwards, as he
passed by, scarce thought it worth a look.
Harriet. I'll tell you what, papa: he
did exactly as the cock did.
Mr. Bill. What cock?
Harriet. Oh! do you forget the fable
that you read to us one day? Once upon
a time there was a cock
Mr. Bill. What next?
Harriet. That scratched upon a dung-
hill, and found a-what was it?
Mr. Bilt. A pearl?
Harriet. Ah! yes; a pearl-And then
he said, "Of what use art thou to me with
all thy brightness! If I had found, instead.
of thee, a grain of barley, it would have
heen of much more service to me." Saying.
II 3
this,
174
THE NEW.
2
this, he left the pearl on the ground, and
went away without taking any farther no-
tice of it.
Mr. Bill. Very good. Just so did Ro-
binson with the lump of gold.
Night now came on. The sun had for
some time sunk beneath the main-
Geo. What, in the sea?
Mr. Bill. So it appears to those who
live in an island, and see nothing round
them but water. The sun, in fact, seems
to them to sink down into the sea at night
when he sets; and, therefore, people some-
times express themselves thus, as if the
thing were really so.
The moon rose bright at the other end
of the heavens, and shone so beautifully
into Robinson's cave, that the delightful-
ness of the view hindered him from going
to sleep.
Harriet. Oh!, look, look, dear papa;
our moon too begins to appear yonder.
.. Rich. Oh! what an enchanting sight!
how mild her light is; how pleasing!
Mr.
1
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
17
Mr. Bill. Well, my dears, Robinson is
asleep, while his fire, kept up by large
pieces of wood, continues to burn slowly.
Now, what do you think of doing in the
mean time?
Edw. I think, at least, that I shall hardly
sleep much to night, I am so impatient to
know the rest of Robinson's adventures.
SEVENTH EVENING.
THE following evening, before Mr. Bil-
lingsley began the continuation of Robin-
son Crusoe's history, he expressed himself
thus: I hope, my dear children, that, in re
lating this history to you, I do not detain
you from any employment more agreeable
or improving. I would not put the least
constraint on you; so that whenever your
friend Robinson grows tiresome to you--
Edw.
1
H 4
}
176
THE NEW
Edw. Tiresome, papa! It is impossible.
Mr. Bill. However, I observed some of
you, yesterday evening, gape and yawn a
good deal.
Geo. Oh! papa, the reason of that was,
that we had worked very hard in our gar-
dens all the afternoon, so that it was no
wonder if we were a little sleepy towards
night.
Edw. To-day we have only been weed-
ing and watering our lettuce-beds, so that
we are quite fresh.
Harriet.
Oh! quite fresh, papa; look
how I can jump.
Mr. Bill. Well; you have only to tell
me whenever this story begins to grow
heavy or dull.
Rich. Oh'; never fear; I'll warrant you.
Mr. Bill. Then I proceed.
As the heat was excessive in Robinson's
island during the day time, he was obliged,
* whenever he undertook any thing laborious,
to work at it very early in the morning, or
else in the cool of the evening. He rose,
therefore,
;
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
177
1
therefore, before the sun, put fresh wood
to his fire, and ate the half of a cocoa-nut ·
that he had left since the evening before.
After this he intended to have put another
joint of his lama on the spit; but he found
the flesh already tainted, on account of
the extraordinary heat. He was, there-
fore, obliged to go without the pleasure of
eating meat for that day.
Upon this, he prepared to set out for the
elay-pit; and, putting on his pouch, he
found still remaining in it the potatoes
which he had brought home two days be-
fore. He resolved to try the experiment
: of dressing them; so put them down close
by his fire, and having covered them with
hot ashes, he set out.
He worked so hard, that before twelve
o'clock he had prepared as many bricks as
he thought he should have occasion for, to
complete the wall of his kitchen.. He next
went down to the beach to look for some
oysters; but instead of oysters, of which he
H 5.
found
178
THE NEW
found only very few, he discovered, to his
great joy, another sort of food, much bet-
ter than any that he had found yet.
Rich. What was that, papa?
Mr. Bill. It was an animal, the flesh of
which, it is true, he had never tasted; but
he had frequently heard that it was the
most wholesome and delicious imaginable.
Rich. Well, then, what was it?
Mr. Bill. A turtle, and so large, that
it is rare to see the like in those parts. It
might weigh 100lb.
Geo. Why, it must have been a mon-
ster of a turtle. Are there really such
great ones?
Rich. Oh! yes; and much larger still.
Have you forgot what papa read from
Captain Cook's Voyages. The turtle that
his people found in the South Seas weighed ·
300 lb.
Geo. 300 lb.-astonishing!
Mr. Bill. Robinson loaded his shoulders
with his prize, and marched slowly home-
wards.
$
8

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
179
wards. When he arrived at his cell, his first
care was to come at the flesh of the turtle,
which he did, at length, bycutting open, with
his hatchet, the lower shell that covered
its belly; he then killed it, and cut off a
good partof it to roast, which, having fixed
upon the spit, he waited with impatience
until it was done, for his work had con-
siderably sharpened his appetite.
To
While he turned the spit, he considered
with himself what he must do with the rest
of the turtle to keep it from tainting.
salt it would have been the only effectual
way, but then he had neither tub nor salt.
It filled him with concern to think that
all that fine turtle, the flesh of which would
nourish him for more than a week, must be
unfit to eat the next day; and yet he could
not think of any expedient to save it. All
at once a thought struck him. The upper
shell of the turtle was shaped like a large
That," said he,
"shall serve me
H 6.
bowl.
66
for
180
THE NEW
for a trough to salt it in--but where is the
salt?
Only think, what a great fool I must
be!" cried he, striking his hand against his
head; "cannot I steep this meat in sea-wa-
ter, and will not that have the same effect,
or nearly so, that brine would have? A
lucky thought! a lucky thought!" cried
he and his joy made him turn the spit
twice as fast as before.
·
"Ah!"
His turtle was now nicely done.
said Robinson, sighing, after he had tasted,
with much satisfaction, a small bit of it
which he thought very savoury, "if one
had the least morsel of bread with this! How.
stupid was in my youth, not to know
that we should thank God for a bit of
dry bread! I was seldom contented if
my bread was not loaded with butter, and
even then, perhaps, I must have cheese
Oh idiot that I was! How happy should I
now be with a piece of the blackest rye
bread that ever was made in my country !"?
•
While
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
IST
While he was taken up with these reflec-
tions, he recollected the potatoes that he
had left in the ashes before he went out in
the morning. "Let us see," said he," how
they will turn out;" and he took np one.
of them.
Here was new cause of rejocing! The
fruit, which was before so hard, was now
become quite tender; and when he opened
it, the smell was so pleasing, he never hesi-
tated to conclude that the taste must be
equally so. In effect, this root tasted as
agreeable as agreeable as-- Eh! Who
will help me out with a simile?
Mr. Mered. As agreable as a potatoe.
Mr. Bill. Even so.
That settles it all
in one word. In short, Robinson perceived
that this root, which was so agreable to the
taste, would supply the place of bread.
He made, therefore, a magnificent re-
past; after which, as the sun was burning.
hot, he threw himself on the bed for a while,
to consider at his ease what work he
should
?
J
i
t
182
THE NEW
should begin when the violence of the
heat was over.
"What piece of work," said he,
"should
I undertake at present? The sun must
harden my bricks before I can begin my
wall. The best way then, certainly, will
be to go and kill a couple of lamas-But
what am I to do with such a quantity of
meat? What, if I should hang up some of
it to dry in the smoke of my kitchen ?-
Excellent!" cried he; and with these
words he bounced from his bed, and sat
down in the front of his intended kitchen,
to deliberate on the means of succeeding
in this plan.
He presently saw that the thing might be
done well enough. He had only to leave
two holes in the walls that he was to build,
and through them to run a large stick across.
It was an easy matter to hang his hams and
flitches upon this, and the smoke of the
chimney would do the rest. This happy.
thought was near turning his head with
joy....
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
183
1
joy. What would he have given that his
bricks were already hard enough, that he
might begin the grand work that very mo-
ment! But there was no help for it; he
must be content to wait until the sun har-
dened his bricks..
Something, however, must be done to
employ the time. While he meditated
what that should be, a fresh thought struck
him, which by far surpassed, in cleverness,
all that he had hitherto conceived. And
he was astonished at his folly in not hav-
ing hit upon it before.
?
Rich. What was it, then?
Mr. Bill. No more than this; he resolv-
ed, in order that he might have company,
and at the same time provide for his sub-
sistence, to bring up some tame animals.
Geo. Ah! some of the lamas, I dare say.
Mr. Bill. Right. In fact, these were
the only animals that he had seen hither-
to. As these lamas appeared already to be
extremely tame, he hoped he should suc-
ceed in taking a couple of them alive.
Geo
184
THE NEW
Geo. Oh! that would be delightful. I
should like to be along with him, to have
another couple.
Mr. Bill. But pray, George, how would
you contrive it? They were hardly so tame.
as to let themselves be caught.
Geo.
do?
Then how did Robinson mean to
Mr. Bill. That was the very point that
Robinson had many long and serious delibe-
rations upon.
But man, where an under-
taking is not in itself absolutely impossible,
man needs but to will seriously and with
perseverance, and nothing is insurmount-
able to his understanding and industry; so
great and manifold are the faculties with
which our good Creator hath endowed us!
•
Attend to this, my dear children, and
never despair of success in any labour or
difficulty whatsoever, provided you take
the firin resolution of not giving over until
you have accomplished it. Unwearied ap-
plication, constant reflection, and a courage
that perseveres in spite of every obstacle,
have
:
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
185
have often brought enterprizes to a period
which were at first deemed impracticable.
Never, therefore, suffer yourselves to be dis-
you
couraged by the difficulties which will
meet with in the affairs of life! but always
reflect that the more exertion it has cost to
bring a business to a happy issue, the more
joy one feels at having accomplished it.
Robinson soon succeeded in hitting upon
a method to take the lamas alive.
Rich. What was it?
Mr. Bill. He proposed to make a noose
upon a cord, and, hiding himself behind a
tree, to throw the noose over the head of
the first lama that should approach.
With this intent, he twisted a pretty
strong cord, and in a few hours the cord
and the noose were completed: he made
a trial or two to see whether the noose
would catch well, and it answered perfectly
to his wish.
As the place by which the lamas were
accustomed to pass, in their way to the wa-
ter, was pretty far off, and because he was
not
186
TITE NEW
not sure whether they would pass by there
that evening, as it was about noon that he
saw them go to drink before, he put off
till next day. the execution of his project:
in the mean time he made the preparations
requisite for the journey.
1
That is to say, he went to the spot where
the potatoes grew, and filled his bag with
them. Part of them he put down in the
warm ashes to roast, and the rest he threw
into a corner of his cave for a future store..
In the next place he cut off a pretty large
piece of his turtle to serve for supper and
the next morning's breakfast, and steeped
what remained in seà water, which he had
brought with him for the purpose.
ཉྭ་་
Lastly, he dug a small hole in the ground,
which was to be his cellar, for want of a
better. In it he placed his turtle shell with
the salted meat, placed over that the piece
that he meant to roast for supper, and then
covered the whole with small branches of
trees.
For the rest of the afternoon, in order to
refresh
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
187
refresh his spirits, he indulged himself with
an agreeable walk along the sea side, where
there blew a fine fresh easterly breeze,
which rendered the air agreeably cool.
His eyes traversed with pleasure the im-
mense ocean, whose surface was then gently
agitated by small waves following each
other in slow succession to the shore.
turned his eyes fondly towards the part of
the world where his dear country was si-
tuated, and a few trembling tears trickled
down his cheeks at the remembrance of
his beloved parents.
He
"What are they doing now, those poor
disconsolate parents?" cried he, bathed in
tears, and clasping his hands together.
"If they have survived the bitter sorrow
which I unhappily have caused them, alas!
what grief consumes their days! How must
they sigh to behold themselvs childless; to
see their last, their only son, become a trai-
tor to their love, and abandoning them for
ever! Oh my dearest, best of fathers! my
tender, affectionate mother! pardon, ah,
pardon
188
THE NEW
1
"
pardon your unhappy son for thus afflicting
you! And thou, O Heavenly Father, at
present my only father, my only society, my
only support and protector!-[here he threw
himself upon his knees in the posture of
adoration]-Oh, my Creator, shed thy most
precious blessing, shed all the happiness
which thou hast destined for me, and of.
which I have rendered myself unworthy,
shed them upon my dear parents, whom I
have so grievously offended, and thus con-
sole them for their sufferings. Ah! how
chearfully will I endure whatever dispensa-
tion it shall please thy wisdom and mercy
to appoint for me in order to my future
amendment, could but my poor parents,
who are innocent, be made happy!"
He remained a little longer on his knees,
looking up to Heaven in silent grief, and
his eyes swimming in tears. At length
he rose, and, with his knife of flint, he cut
out upon the tender bark of a tree that
was at hand, the much-loved names of his
parents. Over them he placed these words,
"God
ROBINSON CRUSOE
189.
"God bless you!" and below, "Mercy to
your lost son!" After that, his lips, warm
with affection, kissed the names which he
had cut out, and he bedewed them with his
tears. He afterwards engraved these same
names, which were so dear to him, upon a
number of other trees in other parts of the
island, and, from that time forward, he ge-
nerally offered up his prayers at the foot
of one of these trees, and never failed to
remember his parents in them.
Geo. For once, I think, he behaved
well.
Mr. Bill. He is, at present, in the fairest
train to become an honest and good man,
and for this he is indebted to the wise Pro-
vidence of IIcaven which conducted him
hither.
Geo. He might now, therefore, return to
his parents, if Providence thought fit.
Mr. Bill. God, who foresees every thing
that will happen, knows best what is for
the advantage of any man, and will regu-
late the events of his life according. It is
true
190
THE NEW
true, circumstances have kindled a spark
of virtue in Robinson's breast, but who
can tell if other circumstances would not
quickly extinguish this spark again; and
if he was at this moment taken from his
island, and restored to his father's house,
who knows whether the infection of exam-
ple and prosperity would not corrupt him
once more? Oh, my children, how just is
this precept, "Let him that standeth take
heed lest he fall!"
While Robinson walked backwards and
forwards on the beach, it occurred to him
that he would do well to bathe himself.
He therefore took off his clothes; but how
was he terrified on seeing the condition of
his shirt, the only one that he had! As
he had worn it without shifting for so long
a time, and in so hot a climate, one could
scarcely perceive that the linen had ever
been white. Wherefore, before he bathed
himself, he took care to wash this shirt as
well as possible, and, having hung it upon
a tree to dry, he jumped into the water.
He
L
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
191
He had learned to swim pretty early,
so that, being perfect master of the exer-
cise, he amused himself with swimming out
to a good distance from shore towards a
neck of land that extended pretty far into
the sea, and upon
which he had never been
yet.
Charlotte. A neck of land? What is
that ?
Mr. Bill. We give that name to a long
piece of land, one end of which joins
an island or a continent, and the other
stretches out intothe sea. You understand?
Charlotte. Oh, perfectly.
Mr. Bill. This thought of Robinson's
was very lucky; for he found that the neck
of land was, during the time of high wa-
ter, entirely covered, and that, on the eb-
bing of the tide, a considerable quantity
of turtles, oysters, and muscles, were left
behind. This time, indeed, he could not
carry any of them away, neither did he
want them at present, as his kitchen was
sufficiently stored: however, the discovery
of
192
THE NEW
་
of them afforded him no small degree of
satisfaction.
That part of the sea in which he swam
abounded with fish so plentifully that he
could almost have caught them with his
hands. If he had had a net he might have
taken them by thousands; however, though
he had none, he hoped, as he had been
hitherto so fortunate in all his undertak-
ings, that he might one day or other be
master of a fishing net.
Satisfied with these discoveries, he came
out of the water, after having been a full
hour in it. The heat of the sun had en-
tirely dried his shirt, and he had the plea-
sure once more of putting on clean linen.
But, as he had contracted the habit of
reflecting upon every thing, he considered
that this pleasure could not last very long;
for, having but one shirt, he was obliged
to wear it constantly, and, when it was
worn out, he had none to replace it. This
reflection damped his joy a good deal: ne-
vertheless, he took courage, and after he
had
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
193
had dressed himself, returned to his habita-
tion, frequently repeating to himself, "The
Lord be praised for all things!"
Rich. He is right now not to suffer him-
self to be cast down or despond, but to put
a reasonable trust in Providence.
Harriet Oh, how I should like to see
Robinson. I am very fond of him.
Geo. If papa would only give me paper,
I should like to write him a letter.
Edw. So would I too.
Rich. And I: it would give me great
pleasure to write to him.
Harriet. Well, so it would me, if I knew.
how to write:
Mrs. Bill. My dear, you shall tell me
what you would say to him; I will write
for you.
Harriet. Oh, thank ye, mamma, that
will do charmingly.
Mrs. Bill. Come, then, I will give you
all paper.
Upon this, they retired to the next
room for about half an hour, at the end
VOL. I.
I
of
194
:
THE NEW
of which time they all returned in great
spirits, with each his letter in his hand.
Harriet. Here, papa, here is my letter;
pray be so good as to read it.
Mr. Billingsley reads:
<<
My dear Robinson,
"Take pains to be industrious and good;
that will please every body, and especially
your father and mother. You now see how
useful it is to suffer a little hardship.
George and Richard send their compli-
ments to you; so do Henry and Edward.
Come some day and see us, I will then tell
you more.
HARRIET.
Geo. Now mine, papa: here it is.
Mr. Billingsley reads:
""
My dear friend,
"We wish you all the happiness possible,
and as soon as I get some pocket-money I
will buy you something. And go on, as
you have begun, to be a good lad. I send
you along with this some bread; and take
care not to fall sick. How is your health?
I wish
#
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
195
I wish you well, dear Robinson, though I
do not know you; yet I like you very well,
and am your faithful friend,
GEORGE BILLINGSLEY.
Twickenham, Feb. 7, 1788."
Edw. Well, here is mine; but I fear it
is too short,
Mr. Billingsley reads:
"Dear Robinson,
"I am sorry that you are so unfortunate.
If you had staid at home, these misfortunes
would never have happened. Take care of
yourself, and return as soon as possible to -
your dear parents. Once more, take care
of yourself. I am your faithful friend,
EDWARD BILLINGSLEY."
:
?
Rich. Now mine. It is my turn next.
Mr. Billingsley reads :
Honoured Robinson,
?
I pity you very much, that you are
thus separated from every living creature.
I suppose you are sorry for it yourself at
1 2
present.
196
THE NEW
帖
​Jat
present. I wish, with all my heart, that
you may be able, some day or other, to re-
turn to your dear parents. Fail not, for the
future, to put your trust in Providence on
all occasions: you will fare the better for it.
I say, again, take care of your health.
I am,
Your sincere friend,
RICHARD BILLINGSTEY.
Twickenham, Feb. 7, 1788."
Henry. Mine, I am afraid, is good for
nothing.
Mr. Bill. Let us see.
Henry. I only wrote a few words in a hur-
ry, that I might have done as soon as the rest,
Mr. Billingsley reads:
My dear Mr. Crusoe,
"Howgoes the world with you yonder
in the island? I am told you have met
with a good many turns of fortune. You
cannot tell yet, I suppose, whether your
island is inhabited or not: I should be very
glad to know. I understand too that you
have
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
197
have found a great lump of gold; but there
in your island it is of no service to you.”
[Mr. Bill. You might have added, nor here
in Europe neither. The greatest quantity
of gold that a man can possess will never
render him either better or happier.]" It
would have been better for you had you
found some iron instead of it: you could,
then, have made yourself a knife, a hatchet,
and other tools. I wish you well;
And am,
Your faithful friend,
HENRY BILLINGSLEY.
Twickenham, Feb. 7. 1788."
Geo.
But now after all how are we to
send our letters?
Harriet. We need only give them to
some captain of a ship that is going to
South America; and then too we can send
him something. I will send him some ap-
ples and some walnuts. You'll give me
some for him--won't you, mamina?
Rich. (whispering his father) They are
IS
SO
12
198
THE NEW
so soft as to think that Robinson Crusoe is
still alive.
Mr. Bill. My dear children, I thank you,
in Robinson's name, for the kindness that
you shew him; but as to these letters, it
won't be in my power to send them.
Geo. La! why not?
Mr. Bill. By reason that Robinson has
been long since in heaven, and his body is
returned to dust.
Geo. Ah! what, is he dead; and but
just now he has been bathing himself!
Mr. Bill. You forget, my dear George,
that what I relate to you concerning Robin-
son Crusoe, happened fifty years ago: so
that he must have been dead a long time.
But I am now writing his history, and shall
take care to have your letters printed along
with it.
Harriet. Oh! that will be charming.
But in the mean time, I suppose, papa, you
will go on telling us something of him.
Mr. Bill. With pleasure. I have things
to tell you still that will please you as well
as
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
199
as what you have already heard. But for
this evening I think we have had enough.
-Robinson, after bathing himself, went
home to his dwelling place, ate his supper,
said his prayers, and went to rest con-
tentedly.
And it is time for us to do so too.
1
EIGHTH EVENING.
3
1
MR. Bill. Well,
off last night?
Well, where did we leave
Henry. Where Robinson went to bed.
after bathing.
Mr. Bill. Oh! right.-Well, then, Ro-
binson rose the next morning early, and pre-
pared for the chace.
He furnished his
pouch with plenty of roasted potatoes, and a
good large slice of roasted turtle, which he
wrapped up in the leaves of the cocoa-nut
tree. Next he slung his hatchet by his
I 4
side,
200
THE NEW
side, tied the cord which he had made the
day before for catching the lamas, round
his waist, took his umbrella in his hand,
and began his march.
+
It was very early; he resolved, therefore,
for this time, to take a round, in order to
make himself acquainted with some other
parts of his island. Amongst the numbers
of various birds. that fluttered about the
trees, he remarked some parrots, the co-
lours of whose plumage were extraordinary
beautiful. How did he wish to have one
of them that he might tame it, and have it
for his companion! But the old ones were
too cunning to be caught, and he could
no where discover a nest with young
ones. He was obliged, therefore, to put
off the gratification of this wish until some
other opportunity.
In return for this disappointment, he dis-
covered in the course of his walk, a thing
much more necessary to him than a parrot;
for, getting to the top of a hill near the sea-
side, and looking down between the cracks
of
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
201
of the rock, he saw something lie on the
ground which excited his curiosity. He
let himself down by the assistance of his
feet and hands, and found, to his great satis-
faction, that it was-what do you think?
Henry. Pearls, perhaps.
Rich. Yes, truly, the sight of pearls
would have given him great satisfaction!
Perhaps it was iron.
Edw. Nay, do not you know that iron
is not to be found in hot climates? It was,
perhaps, another lump of gold.
Harriet. Nonsense! Would that have
made him glad? Gold was of no use to
him you heard before.
Mr. Bill. I see you will not be able to
guess, then; I will tell you. What he
found was-salt.
Hitherto, he had, it is true, in some re-
spects, supplied the want of salt with sea-
water; but, after all, that was not salt. The
sea-water has a bitter taste which is very
disagreeable; and, besides, it was a mistake
to think that meat salted in this manner
I 5
would
202
THE NEW
would keep; because sea-water, as well as
that of a spring or river, grows stinking af-
ter it has stood some time. It was, there
fore, a very lucky thing that he found some
real salt, and he filled both his pockets
with it, in order to supply himself with a
stock for immediate usc.
Geo. How did that salt come there, papa?
Mr. Bill. Then you do not remember
what I told you one day concerning the
original of salt?
Rich. Oh! yes; I recollect it still. Some
they take out of the earth, some they make
of salt-water that flows in springs, and
some, again, is made from sea-water.
Mr. Bill. Now, the salt made from
sea-water is either prepared by inen or by
the sun.
Geo. The sun?
Mr. Bill. Yes; for when any sea-water
is left upon the land, after a high tide, or
a flood, the sun makes the water by de-
grees to evaporate, and what remains on
the spot is then salt.
Harriet.
*
203
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
Harriet. Well, that is comical.
Mr. Bill. See with what kindness Hea-
ven provides for us! That which we can
least do without, does always require the
least preparation by art, and is always
found in the greatest abundance.
Robinson went in high spirits to the
place where he hoped to noose a lama.
When he came there, he saw none; but
then it was not quite noon.
therefore, at the foot of a
He sat down,
tree to regale
himself with his roast turtle and potatoes.
How much more savoury did they taste to
him now that he had a little salt to eat
with them!
Just as he had finished his meal, the la-
mas appeared at a distance, coming towards
him with skips and bounds. Robinson
quickly placed himself in a posture of at-.
tack, and waited with his noose ready for
the approach of one of the lamas. Several
had passed him beyond his reach; but, all
at once, there came up one so near to him,
that he scarce needed more than to drop
I 6
the
204
THE NEW
the noose to have him fast in it. He did
so, aud that moment the lama was his pri-
soner.
The poor beast would have bleated, but
lest that should frighten the rest, Robin-
son pulled the noose so tight, that the
lama was completely silenced. He then
dragged it as fast as he could into a thick
coppice to hide it from the rest.
This lama was a female, and had two
young ones which followed her, to the
great satisfaction of Robinson, and did not
appear to be the least afraid of him. He
patted the pretty little things, and they-
just as if they would have begged of him
to let their mother go-licked his hands.
Geo. Well, then, I think he might
have let her go.
Mr. Bill. He would have been a great
fool in doing so.
Geo. Nay, the poor creature had done
him no harm however.
Mr. Bill. But he had occasion for it;
and you know, my dear George, we are
permitted
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
205
permitted to make use of animals in case
of need, provided we do not abuse them.
Robinson was transported with joy at
having so happily attained his object. He
dragged the creature along with all his
strength, though she jumped and skipped-
a good deal to get from him, and the two
little ones followed quietly behind. The
shortest way was now the best for Robin-
son, and, pursuing that, he at length
arrived happily at his dwelling-place.
But here started a difficulty. How was
he to get the lama into his enclosure, which,
as we have said before, was so strongly bar-
ricaded all round? To sling it down from
the top of the rock, by means of a cord, was
not at all advisable the poor animal might
be strangled in the way. Robinson resolv
ed, therefore, to make up a little stable near
his place of abode, and there to keep the
lama and her young ones, until he should
be able to suit his conveniency better.
In the mean time he fastened the animal
to a tree, and immediately fell to work; that
1
is
206
THE NEW
is to say, he cut down with his hatchet of
flint a number of young trees, and fixed
them in the ground, so close, one beside
the other, that they formed a pretty strong
wall. While this was doing, the lama lay
down through weariness, and the little ones,
no way troubled at their being prisoners,
were sucking quite unconcerned, and
feasting themselves at their ease.
What a pleasing sight was this to Robin-
son! Above a dozen times he stopped from
his work to look at the pretty little crea-
tures, and thought himself beyond measure
happy in having some animated beings to
bear him company. From this moment his
life seemed no longer solitary, and the joy
which he felt from this reflection, gave
him such strength and activity, that his
stable was very soon finished: he then
put the lama and her young ones into it,
and closed up the last opening with branches
firmly interwoven.
What was his satisfaction now! It is im-
possible for words to describe it. Besides
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
207
the company of the lamas, which of itself
was a valuable thing, he promised himself
many other great advantages, andwith much
reason for in time he might perhaps learn
to make some sort of cloathing with the
wool of these animals; he might use their
milk for food, he might make butter and
cheese of it. It is true, he did not yet
know by what means he should attain
these objects, which were still so far dis-
tant; but he had already experienced that
no man should despair of his skill or per-
formance, provided he gives his whole
mind to the work, and applies to it with
persevering attention.
•
There wanted still one thing to complete
his happiness: he wished to be in the same
enclosure with his dearlamas, that he might
have them always before his eyes when he
was at home, and enjoy the satisfaction of
seeing them grow fond of his company.
He puzzled himself a long time to find
how he should accomplish this: at length,
his determination was to break down one
side
208-
THE NEW
side of his wall of trees, not grudging what-
ever labour it might cost him, and to make
another wall that would take in a larger
space. This alteration, besides, would give
him more room, and make him more at
his ease. But in order to be secure from
all accidents while he was working at his new
hedge, he prudently resolved not to break
the old wall until he had finished the new.
Thanks to his indefatigable pains, the
work was finished in a few days, and then
Robinson had the satisfaction of being in
the same habitation with his three domestic
companions. This, however, did not make
him forget his first companion, the spider,
which he provided every day with gnats
and flies. The spider, soon perceiving that
he used her as a friend, grew so tame, that,
whenever he touched her web, she should
come out and receive from his hand the
fly that he held to her.
The lama also andats young ones soon
grew fond of his society. As often as he
returned home, they came jumping to meet
him.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
209
him; they would smell about him to find
whether he had brought them any thing,
and gratefully lick his hand whenever he
gave them fresh grass or young branches
to eat.
After this he weaned the young ones,
and then began to milk the dam regularly
morning and evening. His cocoa-nut shells
served him for pails and milk pans, and this
milk, which he used partly sweet and partly
curdled, contributed not a little, by its
agreeable taste and nourishing quality, to
render his solitary life still more tolerable.
As his cocoa-nut tree was useful to him
in so many respects, he was extremely de-
sirous to find a method of producing more.
of them. But how was he to contrive it?
He had often heard of grafting trees, but
the manner in which it was done had never
excited his curiosity. "Oh," said he to
himself, "how little is the advantage that I
have reaped from the years of my childhood,
when I had time and opportunity to have
learnt so much! Ah! if I had known my
own interest better, should I not have taken
210
THE NEW
notice of every thing that I saw or heard?
And if my capacity did not allow me to ar-
rive at the height of learning which many
men attain, I should at least have come
near it; and how useful would every thing
that I could have learnt be to me at this
present moment! Oh! if I could grow
young again, how attentive would I be to
every thing that is executed by the hands
or industry of men! There is not a trade
nor an art of which I would not have en-
deavoured to learn some part.".
But of what use were these wishes? The
misfortune was now past remedy. It was,
therefore, his business to exert himself in
supplying by his own invention what he
wanted in skill; and this, in effect, was
the course that he took.
Without knowing whether he was right
or wrong, he cut off the tops of two or
three young trees; in the middle of the
trunk he made a small slit, in which he
stuck a young twig from the cocoa-nut tree;
he then covered round with thin bark the
place
A
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
211
place where he had made the slit, and wait-
ed with impatience for the result of his la-
bour. This, too, succeeded with him. -After
some time the suckers began to bud, and
now he had found a method to produce a
whole grove of cocoa-nut trees.
Here was a fresh cause for rejoicing, and
for entertaining the most lively gratitude
towards our Creator, who has implanted in
the nature of things such virtues and
qualities, that living creatures are no where
in want of means to preserve themselves,
and render their condition agreeable.
Both the old lama and the young were
in a short time grown as tame as dogs. He
began, therefore, by little and little, as oc-
casion required, to make them serve for
carrying burthens, especially whenever he
went out for any thing that would have
been too much trouble for himself to carry.
Rich. Ay; but how could he take them
with him when there was no way for them.
to go out of the enclosure?
Mr. Bill. I forgot to tell you, that, in the
new
212
THE NEW
new wall, at a part where it touched a close
thicket, he had left an opening where a
Iama could barely squeeze itself out. This
hole was not to be seen from without, and
every evening Robinson closed it up with
branches strongly interwoven together.
It was delightful to see Robinson coming
home to his habitation, and his lama walk-
ing before him. She was soon able to find
the way as well as her master, and when she
came to the little door she stopped first to
be unloaded, and then crept in upon her
belly, Robinson following by the same pas-
sage. Then was the joy of the young la-
mas complete; they expressed their satis-
faction by jumping and bleating, and would
run first to their mother to welcome her
home, then to their master to caress him
also. Robinson, on such occasions, would
mix his joy with theirs, as a father rejoices
over his children when he clasps them in
his arms once more after an absence of
some time.
Mr. Rose It must be confessed, there is
some-
ས

thự
;
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
213
something very instructive and affecting
in this gratitude of animals towards a man
who has done them a kindness.
Mr. Bill. There are several examples of
it which are extremely striking, and would
almost induce us to believe that some
beasts are really endued with thought like
men, if we had not, on the other hand,
proofs of the contrary.
·
Henry. Ay; for instance, the lion and
the man mentioned in SANDFORD and
MERTON-what was the man's name?
Rich. Androcles.
He had plucked a
Henry. The same.
thorn out of the lion's paw.
Geo. There was a good lion! He was so
fond of Androcles, who had done him that
service; and ever after, in return, he did
the man no harm when he had it in his
power to devour him. If they were all like
him, I should like to have a lion myself.
Rich. For my part, I like much better
the dog that belonged to a Swiss.
Harriet. What dog?
Rich
2144
THE NEW
Rich. Have you forgot him? The dog
that saved the lives of two men.
Harriet. Dear Richard, tell us that story.
Rich. There was once a man in Switzer-
land, where those high mountains the Alps
are. Well, the man climbed up to the top
of one of them, which was prodigious high.
Oh, it was as high, as high-as if you were
to put St. Paul's upon itself ten times over.
Geo. You leave out one thing, brother;
he took a guide with him.
Rich. Certainly, he took a guide-
well, and the guide took his dog. Now,
when they had reached the top of the
mountain-
Geo. Yes, and the mountain was co-
vered with snow
Rich. Pray hold your tongue-Well,
then, the mountain was all covered with
snow. Now, when they were almost at
the top, the gentleman slipped, and the
guide going to his assistance slipped too,
and so then they both slipped and slid
until they were within a few yards of the
edge
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
215
edge of the precipice from which they
would have fallen down almost a mile be-
fore they touched the bottom. But then the.
good dog seized his master by the skirt of
his coat, and held him fast, so that he could
not slip any farther, and he held the gen-
tleman until they both got up.
Geo. Well, now you must tell us what
the gentleman said; I have not forgot it.
Rich. Nor I neither. He invited the
guide to come and see him as often as he
pleased at his house, and charged him never
upon any account to forget bringing his
dog, as he intended, whenever he came,
to give him a good belly-full.
Harriet. And did the gentleman do so?
Rich. Yes, certainly: as often as the
guide visited him, he entertained him in
the best manner he could, and was always
sure to give the dog a full belly.
Harriet. That was well done.
1
Mr. Bill. Well, my dear children, we
have lost sight of Robinson. Shall we
stop here for this evening?
Geo.
216
THE NEW
Geo. Oh, dear papa, no. A little more
of Robinson, let it be ever so little.
Mr. Bill. By this time his bricks were
hard enough to be used. He looked,
therefore, for some chalky earth, with
which, instead of lime, he intended to
make mortar for his wall; and he found
some. In the next place, he made him-
self a trowel of a flat stone, and, being re-
solved to have every thing complete that
belongs to a bricklayer, he went even so
far as to make a square and a plummet,
but not in a bungling manner; as perfect
as possible. You know, I suppose, what
those things are?
Edw.
Oh, as to that matter, we have
seen them pretty often.
Mr. Bill. Having, therefore, finished
all the preparatives requisite for his ma-
sonry, he made his lama bring home the
bricks that he had occasion for.
Rich. But how was he able to put the
bricks upon the lama?
Mr. Bill. Why, indeed, you would not
easily
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
217
easily guess how he contrived it, therefōre
I think it best to tell you at once.
He had long observed that it would be
a very great advantage to him to know
something of the useful art of weaving
wicker panniers; but he had taken so little
notice in his youth of the manner in which
basket-makers work, that he knew as much
of this art, which, nevertheless, is tolerably
easy, as he did of all the other useful arts,
that is to say, he knew nothing about it.
However, as he had once succeeded in
making an umbrella by this sort of weav-
ing, he frequently afterwards amused him-
self in his leisure hours with trials of the
same kind, by dint of which he discovered
at length the whole mystery of the art, so
as to be able to make a pretty tight pan-
nier. Two of these he had woven on pur-
pose for his lama to carry. He fastened
them together with a string, and laid them
upon the lama in such a manner that they
hung down one on each side.
VOL. I.
K
Geo.
218
THE NEW
Geo. Oh, papa! I should like to learn
basket-making.
Mr. Bill. Well, then, I will speak to a
basket-maker, the first time I meet one,
to come here and give you some lessons.
Geo. Oh, that will be charming! And
then I will make a beautiful little work
basket for Harriet.
Harriet. And I will learn to make
them too, papa, shan't I?
Mr. Bill. By all means; it can do you
no harm. In effect, we sometimes have
an idle hour upon our hands, when this
basket-making would come in quite sea-
sonably.
Robinson then fell to his bricklaying, in
which he succeeded tolerably well. He
had now built up one of the side walls of
his kitchen, and laid the foundation of the
other, when all of a sudden there happened
something which he had never dreamt of,
and which terribly disappointed all his
plans.
·
Rich.
I
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
219
Rich. I wonder what that accident
was.
Harriet. Oh! I know it. The savages
came and ate him up.
Geo. Mercy on us? was it that, papa?
Mr. Bill. No, it was not that. But it
was something that frightened him almost
as much as if the savages were come to
roast him alive.
Rich. Dear me! what was it?
Mr. Bill. It was night, and Robinson
on his bed of hay slept soundly, with his
lamas at his feet. The moon shone out in
all its splendor, the air was clear and calm,
and a profound silence reigned over all na-
ture. Robinson, fatigued with the toils of
the day, was fallen into a sweet slumber,
and dreaming, as usual, of his dear parents,
when suddenly--but let us not close this
evening's entertainment with an event so
full of terror; we might, perhaps, dream
of it, and have our sleep disturbed. Rather
let us turn our thoughts to something more
agree-
K 2
220
THE NEW
I
agreeable, that we may end the day in joy
and gratitude to our good Father, who is
in heaven.
NINTH EVENING.
}
MR. BILLINGSLEY having brought
the history of the NEW ROBINSON CRUSOE
down to the end of the preceding evening,
it now happened that business indispensably
called him away for several evenings suc-
cessively, and prevented him from resum-
ing the story, much to the disappointment
of his young family.
They were quite impatient to know what
this was that had happened to poor Robin-
sor, and they would any of them have given
their favourite plaything to be informed of
the events of that dreadful night, concern-
ing which Mr. Billingsley had so long kept
silence.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
221
silence. Unfortunately, it was not in the
power of any other person but their father
to inform them, and he thought proper to
say nothing of it until he should have time
to continue the story regularly as usual.
Their conjectures were endless, and only
served to puzzle them more and more. One
guessed this thing, another that; but none
of their guesses agreed entirely with the
circumstances which they already knew of
this mysterious adventure.
"But why should we not know the whole?"
said some of them in a very piteous tone.
"I have my reasons," answered their
father.
The children were, by a prudent educa-
tion, accustomed to be satisfied with this
answer, and therefore pressed no farther,
but waited with a guarded impatience for
the moment when the cause of their father's
silence should no longer exist. Mean time,
as it is easy for a grown-up person to read
the thoughts of children, Mr. Billingsley
could clearly perceive what passed in their
K S
minds.
922
THE NEW
minds. The following reflection was writ-
ten, as it were, upon the forehead of each
of them: "Why does our papa refuse us
this satisfaction? What reasons can he
have for not gratifying our curiosity!" He
thought proper, therefore, upon this occa-
sion, to convince them once more that he
did not want the inclination to make them,
as happy as lay in his power, and to shew
them that he had reasons of importance
for not continuing the story.
Prepare yourselves," said he,
" to set
off to-morrow morning very early on a
party down the river for Greenwich. You
have often wished to see it, and to-morrow
I propose to indulge you.
"Down the river?-to Greenwich?-in
a boat-What I, papa-Shall I go?
And I asked all the children with one
voice; and a general "Yes" having satis-
fied all their questions, they ran, quite
transported with joy, to communicate the
news to their mamma, and to make the
necessary preparations for their voyage.
"To
:
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
.@23
"To Greenwich! to Greenwich! Where
are iny half-boots? Jenny, where are my
gloves?Quick! the brush! the comb! We are
going to Greenwich! Quick! quick!" No-
thing was to be heard all over the house, but
these expressions of joy and impatience.
Every thing, therefore, was prepared for
the next day's party; and the young tra-
vellers, in the fulness of their joy, asked a
thousand questions, without waiting for a
single answer. They were, at length,
however, prevailed on to go to bed for that
night, their impatience being so great,
that they were already wishing for the
morning to set out on their journey.
At length the morning appeared, and
the whole house was in motion. Nothing
was heard but knocking at each other's
bed rooms; so that they were all very
soon obliged to rise and dress themselves.
When the whole party, old and young,
were assembled, and the former were al-
most devoured with caresses by the latter;
Mr. Billingsley rubbed his eyes, and in a
K 4
tone.
1
224
THE NEW
1
(C
tone of voice which breathed most sorrow-
ful discord to the accents of universal joy,
he said,
My dear children, if you would
do me a favour, you would excuse me to
day from performing my promise."
"What promise? what promise?"-and
each mouth that asked this question re-
mained open in anxious expectation, ac-
companied with a sort of fright.
Mr. Bill. The promise that I made to
you of going to Greenwich to day.
The astonishment and confusion of the
younger part of the company was com-
plete. Not one could utter a syllable.
Mr. Bill. I have been thinking last night
that we should do wrong to go on this
party to-day
The Children. Why so, papa?-and
they could hardly speak for sobs.
Mr. Bill, I will tell you, and then leave
it to yourselves to judge. In the first place,
we have had, fox some time past, an easterly
wind, (and, I find, it is in the same point this
morning,) which makes the river extremely
rough,
3
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
225
rough, and must be very disagreeable to a
party that are going down.
The Children. But, papa, the wind may
change still.
Mr. Bill. Besides, I considered, that, if
we were to stop another month, we should
see many of the East India ships, that are
to sail this year, dropping down to Dept-
ford; and I know two or three captains of
them; we might, perhaps, dine aboard of
one, which would be very agreeable-would
it not?
The Children. Yes, papa-but-
Mr. Bill. But I have still a stronger rea-
son. You know, Charles and Arthur Stan-
field, your first cousins, whom you have
never seen yet, are to come out of Che-
shire shortly, and spend a month with us;
would it not be infinitely better to wait
for their coming, and take them with us?
Would they not, as often as we should
speak to them of the agreeableness of our
party, sigh and wish that they had been
there too? And, in that case, would the
K 5
remem-
226
THE NEW
remembrance of our day's pleasure cause
us much satisfaction! No; certainly not.
On the contrary, we should always be
sorry within ourselves, that we had not
done by them as we could wish them to do
with regard to us, were we actually in their
place and they in ours. Therefore, what
say you?
A profound silence.
Mr. Billingsley goes on. You know, I ne-
ver broke my word with you; so that, if
you insist upon it, we shall set off. But if
you would, of your own accord, quit me
of my promise, you would do me a kind-
ness; and you would do your cousins a
kindness, and yourselves. Therefore speak
-What is to be done?
"We will wait" was the answer; and,
consequently, the fine party of pleasure
was put off till another time.
It was easy to be seen that this victory
over themselves had cost some of them
dear: these were far from being as chear-
ful as usual the rest of the day. Mr. Bil-
lingsley
&
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
227
1
lingsley took occasion, therefore, towards
evening, when they were all assembled, to
speak to them in this manner:
"My dear children, what has happened
to you to-day, will happen to you frequently
in the course of your lives. You will ex-
pect to enjoy this or that earthly advan
tage; your hopes will appear as well found-
ed as possible, and you will burn with im-
patience to realize them; but in the very
moment when you think to touch this long-
expected happiness, Divine Providence,
which is supremely wise, will, in an instant,
disappoint your designs, when you shall
least expect it, and thus you will find your
too sanguine hopes many, many a time
sadly frustrated.
"The reasons which your heavenly Father
will have to act thus with you, will seldom
appear to you so clearly and distinctly as
you have heard my reasons this morning
for putting off our party to Greenwich: for
God, being infinitely wise, looks to the most
remote futurity; and often, for our advan- -
K 6·
*
tage,...
228
THE NEW-
tage, suffers things to happen, the good
effects of which we do not experience until
long after, perhaps, even in another world.
"Now, if every thing were to happen per-
fectly to your wish while you are young,
and if you always obtained, at the exact mo-
ment, whatever was the object of your hopes,
oh! my dears, how much the worse would
it be for you during the remainder of your
lives! How would your hearts be corrupted
by such prosperity; and how unhappy
would your affections, thus corrupted,
make you at a time when things should not
go quite to your liking! And such a time
will come, my dears; it will come as cer-
tainly for you as it comes for all other men;
for hitherto there has never been a man in
the world, who could say that things have
always succeeded with him completely, and
according to the fulness of his wishes.
"In this case, then, what are we to do, my
dear children ?-No more than this; ac-
custom yourselves, while you are young, to
deprive yourselves frequently of a pleasure
which
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
299
6.
which
you would have given the world to
enjoy. This victory over yourselves, often
repeated, will strengthen your understand-
ings and your affections in such sort, that,
for the future, you will be able to support,
with unshaken fortitude, whatever a wise
and benevolent God shall appoint you for
your good.
"What I have said will teach you, my
dear children, to interpret many instances
of our behaviour, which to you appear un
accountable, and which we, who are ad-
vanced in years, commonly adopt with re-
gard to you. You have, no doubt, often
been surprised at our refusing you a gra-
tification for which, perhaps, you long
ardently. Sometimes we have told you the
reasons of our refusal; that is, when you
were capable of understanding them and
sometimes, on the other hand, we have not
told you them; for instance, when you
were too young to be able to understand
them. And why did we do so? Often
merely on purpose to exercise your pa-
tience
230
THE NEW
ي
tience and moderation, virtues so necessary.
to all men, and to prepare you for the sub- -
sequent accidents of your lives.
"You know now, also, why, for these
few days past, I have forborne the recital:
of Robinson Crusoe's History. I might
certainly have found, at least, sufficient.
time to clear up to you the adventure with
which I left off, and concerning which you
have been, ever since, in a disagreeable un-
certainty: but, you see, I did not tell you
another word about it, though you fre-
quently asked me, and it is always against
my will that I refuse you any thing. Now,
why did I do thus, Harriet ?"
Harriet. Because, papa, you had a mind
to teach us patience.
Mr. Bill. Very right! And most cer-
tainly, if ever you have cause to thank me
for any thing, it will be for accustoming
you thus to give up without regret any
thing of which you have before ardently.
desired the possession."
A few days more passed without any talk
of..
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
231
of going on with the story of Robinson Cru-
soe; but, at length, the hour so earnestly
long for arrived, when Mr. Billingsley
was no longer prevented by business or
otherwise from satisfying the general wish.
Ile went on, therefore, without interrup-
tion, in these words:
It was night, as I told you at my leaving
off, and Robinson was quietly stretched
on his bed of dry grass, with his faithful
lamas at his feet. A deep calm oyerspread
all the face of nature, and Robinson, ac-
cording to his custom, was dreaming of his
parents, when, all at once, the earth shook,
in an uncommon manner, and a rumbling
noise was heard, together with dreadful
cracks, as if many storms burst forth all
at once. Robinson started up in a fright,
and jumped out of bed without knowing
what was the matter, nor where he was go-
ing. At this moment happened a dreadful
shock of the earth, which was succeeded
by several others equally violent. The rumb-
ling noise also continued, which seemed
to
232
THE NEW
to come from under ground. At the same
time arose a furious hurricane, which tore
up trees, and even rocks, and agitated the
very depths of the roaring sea. All the
elements seemed to be at war with each
other, and nature to approach her final dis-
solution.
Robinson, almost frantic with terror, ran
out of his cave into the space before it, and
the affrighted lamas followed. Scarce were
they out, when a piece of the rock, which
rested over the cave, fell down upon the
bed which Robinson had just left. Fear,
now, lent him wings: he fled with precipi-
tation through the small opening in his wall.
of trees, and the lamas, no less terrified,
were close at his heels.
His first intention was to secure himself.
upon a neighbouring mountain, on the top
of which was a plain perfectly open, that he
might not be in danger of the falling trees.
He was going to run thither, when suddenly
he beheld, to his infinite terror and surprise,
that very same spot of the mountain open
with a huge gap, and vomit forth smoke,
1
LOD Or bra po sebe damage to hate-on S
(HÔNG Man gaat men big boty Magna qu Marang kami saa matako da d
VA, KOT KORDA part det met iemandens de sapta beret vindt de qua tugt var a
Fate te kan man Poe die omgetation, man gets om anong ny bebicnaman tayo sa Pa
---- T
10

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
233
fire, cinders, stones, and a burning stream
of what is called lava. He could scarcely
tell which way to run from this dreadful
eruption, as the burning lava rolled down
the hill like a river, and great fragments
of rock were hurled into the air, in every
direction, and fell as thick as hail.
A
He ran towards the sea-side; but here
he beheld a new scene no less terrible.
dreadful whirlwind, which blew from all
quarters of the sky, had driven together
a large quantity of clouds, and heaped
them, as it were, one upon the other. Their
own weight burst them at length, and the
consequence was such a deluge of rain, as,
in a moment, laid the whole country under
water.
Robinson saved himself with difficulty
by climbing up a tree; but his poor lamas
were carried off by the violence of the
flood. Ah! how it went to his heart to
hear their plaintive bleatings; and how
willingly would he, at the risk of his own
life, have cndeavoured to save them, but
that
234
THE NEW
that the rapidity of the torrent liad already.
carried them far beyond his reach!
The earth continued to shake still for a
few minutes, after which there fell, all at
once, a dead calm. The winds subsided ›
the opening of the mountain ceased by de-
grees to vomit fire; the rumbling under
ground was heard no more; the sky cleared
up, and all the waters ran off in less than
a quarter of an hour.
་
Gea. (sighing heavily) Ah! thank God
it is all over! Poor Robinson and the poor
lamas!
:
Harriet: For my part, I was terribly
frightened.
Charlotte. What occasions these earth-
quakes, papa?
Rich. Papa has explained that to us.
long ago, but you were not here.
Mr. Bill Tell her, Richard..
Rich. There are a number of great holes.
under the earth, like caverns, and these ·
are filled with air and exhalations. Besides,
there are within the earth all manner of
things
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
235
ì
things that easily take fire, as sulphur,
pitch, nitre, and the like. These begin
sometimes to heat and take fire, when
moisture happens to accompany them.
Geo. Moisture? Can wetness, then, oc-
casion any thing to take fire?
Rich. Certainly. Have you never seen,
when masons throw cold water upon burnt
lime-stones, how they begin immediately to
boil and smoke as if they were upon the
fire, and yet there was no fire near them?
Well, in the same manner things take fire
under ground as soon as water penetrates
to them; and then, when they burn, the
air which is in these great caverns expands
so prodigiously that there is no longer room
to contain it, so that, striving forcibly to
find a passage out, it shakes the earth, un-
til, at length, it makes an opening some-
where, and through this opening it comes.
forth' like a hurricane, drawing with it a
quantity of burning and melted matter.
Mr. Bill. And this matter, which consists
of stones, minerals, and unctuous bodies,
all
5
236
THE NEW
}
all melted together, is what we call lava.
I have somewhere read that a man might
make a little mountain for himself that
would vomit fire. If you should like that,
we will make the experiment some day.
The Children. Oh, yes, by all means,
dear papa.
Rich. And how is that done?
· Mr. Bill. You need only dig a hole in
the ground where it is moist, and put into
it some sulphur and filings of iron. This
mixture will heat and take fire of itself,
and then you have a burning mountain in
miniature. We will make a trial of it the
first idle day.
While Robinson was coming down from
the tree on which he had saved himself, his
mind was so depressed with the calamity.
which had just fallen on him, that he never
once thought of thanking for his fresh de-
liverance that Being who had before, more
than once, preserved him when in the most
imminent danger of perishing. His situa-
tion was, indeed, now, to the full as mise-
rable
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
237
rable as ever it had been. His cave, the -
only place of refuge that he had hitherto
found, was, in all probability, a heap of
ruins; his dear and faithful lamas he had
seen, with his own eyes, carried off by the
flood, and without doubt they must have
perished; all his past labours were demo-
lished, and his plans for the future disap-
pointed! The mountain, it is true, had
ceased to throw up fire, but from the gulph,
which was still open on the top of it, there
issued forth a thick black smoke, and it
was very possible that this mountain might
now continue to be always a volcano. In
that case, how was Robinson to enjoy one
moment's security? Might he not reason-
ably dread a fresh earthquake, or a fresh
eruption, every day?
These melancholy ideas completely over-
powered him. He sunk under the weight
of his miseries, and, instead of turning him-
self towards God, the only source of true
consolation, he thought of nothing but his
future
238
THE NEW
3
!
future misery, which appeared to him infi-
nite both in weight and duration.
Exhausted with anguish and discomfort,
he leaned against the tree, and, from his
pained breast, he uttered sighs, or rather
deep groans, of distress. He remained in
this position, the picture of despair, until
the dawn told the approach of day.
Geo. (to Mr. Meredith.) I see now
that my papa was right.
Mr. Mered. In what?
Geo. I was thinking lately that Robinson
was altogether reformed, and that Provi-
dence might safely order things for his de-
liverance from the island; but in answer
to that my papa observed, that our heaven-
ly Father knew every thing best, and that
it was not for us to judge in such cases.
Mr. Mered. And now?
Geo. Why, now I see plainly that he had
not the confidence in his Maker which he
ought to have had, and, therefore, that
God did well in not delivering him yet..
Edw.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
239
Edw. So I think too. I must own, I
am far from liking him now so well as I
did some time ago,
Mr. Bill. Your observation, my dear
children, is perfectly just. It is true, we
see plainly that Robinson has not that firm,
unalterable filial confidence in his Maker
which he naturally ought to have after so
many proofs of his wisdom and goodness.
as he had experienced; but, before we
condemn him on this head, let us first put
ourselves in his place for a moment, and
ask our own hearts if we should have acted
betterunder the same circumstances. What
think you, Edward? If you had been Ro-
binson, would you have had more courage
than he?
Edw. (hesitating.) I can't say.
Mr. Bill. Recollect the time when you
had sore eyes, and we put blisters behind
your ears. Do you remember how dispi-
rited you were at times? And yet it was
but a short-lived pain; it lasted but too
days. I know, indeed, that you have more
sense
C
240
THE NEW
!
sense now, and would bear the pain better;
but could you also bear with filial submis-
sion every thing that Robinson was forced
to undergo?-What think you, my dear?
Have I not some reason for doubting upon
that score?
Your silence is the best answer to my
question.. As, thank Heaven, you have
never been in a situation like that of our
poor friend Robinson, you cannot tell what
would be your sentiments if you were:
therefore, all that we can do at present is
to accustom ourselves, in the slight mis-
fortunes which we perhapsmust experience,
to turn our eyes towards Heaven, and be
ever patient and full of confidence. Our
hearts will then be more and more strength-
ened every day, so as to bear with due re-
signation even the greatest sufferings, if
our heavenly Father shall think proper to
appoint them to us.
At length the day appeared, and its new-
born light, while it spread joy over all na-
ture, found poor Robinson still leaning
against
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
241
1
against the tree, in a situation truly deplo-
rable. Sleep had never closed his eyelids;
one gloomy thought alone absorded his
whole soul; he had asked himself a thou-
sand times the sorrowful question, "What
will become of me?" At length he set him-
self in motion, and staggering as he walk-
ed, like a man who is half asleep, he arrived
after some time, at the ruins of his habi-
tation. But what joyful emotions seized
his breast, when, all at once, as he came up
towards the willow enclosure--what think
you?-his dear lamas, safe and sound,
came jumping to meet him! At first he
could not believe his eyes, but his doubts.
were soon satisfied. The lamas ran up to
him, licked his hands, and expressed their
joy at seeing him again by bleating and
skipping about.
Robinson's heart, which, until that mo-
ment, had seemed insensible and frozen, was
now awakened. He looked at his lamas,
then up to Heaven; and tears of joy, gra-
titude, and repentance for his want of
Vol. I.
faitla
L
2
242
THE NEW
faith, bedewed his cheeks. He now patted
and caressed his old friends a thousand
times, and, accompanied by them, went
to see what was become of Iris habitation.
Henry. But how were the lamas saved?
Mr. Bill. We may suppose that the flood
had carried them to some rising ground
where the waters were not quite so deep, and
as they ran off afterwards as rapidly as they
had fallen from the clouds, the lamas were
very soon able to return to their habitation.
Robinson then stood in the front of his
cave, and, to add to his confusion, found
the damage here also by no means so con-
siderable as, in the height of his despon-
dency, he had imagined it. The ceiling,
which consisted of one piece of rock, had,
it is true, tumbled down, and in its fall
brought some of the nearest earth along
with it; yet, after all, it appeared not im-
possible to clear the cave of these ruins, and
then his dwelling-place became twice as
spacious and convenient as it was before.
To this must be added another circum-
stance,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.·
243
stance, which plainly demonstrated that Di-
vine Providence had ordered events thus,
not to punish Robinson, but rather expressly
for his preservation: for when he had more
closely examined the spot where the piece
of rock had been suspended, he, to his no
small terror, perceived it to be surrounded
on every side by a soft earth, and, conse-
quently, that it could never have been firmly
placed; it was, therefore, likely enough to
fall down by its own weight sooner or later.
Now this Divine Providence foresaw, and
perhaps, moreover, foresaw that the piece
of rock would fall precisely at a time when
Robinson was in the cave. But, as the all-
wise and good Creator had appointed to
this man a longer life, he had, from the
creation of the world, so formed the earth,
that exactly at that time, and in that island,
there should be such an earthquake. Even
the rumbling noise under ground, and the
roaring of the hurricane, how terrible so-
ever they had sounded in the ears of Ro-
binson, were circumstances that contribut-
ed to save him: for, had the earthquake
244
THE NEW
✔
come on without any noise, Robinson, in
all likelihood, would not have awakened,
and then the fall of the rock would cer-
tainly have put an end to his life.
Thus, my children, Heaven took care
of him at a time when he thought himself
forsaken, and even made these dreadful ac-
cidents, which Robinson looked upon as
his greatest misfortune, contribute wholly
to his preservation.
This happy experience of heavenly mercy
you will have frequent opportunities of
gaining, if you wish to remark the ways by
which Providence will conduct you. In all
the unfortunate situations of life which it
may be your lot to fall into, you will find
these two things ever true; namely,
In the first place, men always represent
to themselves the evil which happens as
greater than it really is.
Secondly, that all our misfortunes are
,sent to us by our merciful Creator for wise
and good reasons, and that, consequently,
in the end, they will ever contribute to
our real happiness.
t
}
11

مرکز بزر
w
J Bewick-
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
245
TENTH EVENING,
MR. BILLINGSLEY goes on.-Robin-
son, who for some time past had used the
custom of joining prayer with his labour,
began by throwing himself on his knees
to thank God for his late deliverance;
after which he chearfully set about his work,
which was to clear his cave of the ruins.
It was but a slight task to remove the
earth and the gravel, but there remained
still the great piece of rock, which had been
under all. It is true, it was broken in two;
but even in this state it seemed to require
more than the strength of one man to dis-
lodge it.
He tried to roll out the smallest of the.
two pieces, but in vain: the task was too
much for his strength. An attempt so far
from succeeding discouraged him once
more. He did not know what to try next.
L3
Rich.
246
THE NEW
Rich. Oh, I know what I should have
done.
Mr. Bill.
What?
Rich. I would have made a lever, or a
crow, such as the men had the other day.
when they rolled a great beam into the
barn yard.
Geo. I was not by then. What is a
lever, or a crow, as you call it ?
Rich. It is a long stout pole; one end
they put under the beam or the stone that
they wish to move, and then they place a
little block or stone under the lever, but as
close as possible to the beam or whatever
else is to be rolled along; then laying their
hands on the other end of the lever, which
they press with all their force upon the
block, the beam is thus raised up, and máy
be rolled without much trouble.
Mr. Bill. I will explain to you the rea-
son of that another time: at present listen
And hear what Robinson did.
After having meditated upon the matter
a long time to no purpose, the idea of the-
lever
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
247
lever struck him too at last. He recol-
lected that when he was young he had some-
times seen workmen make use of this in-
strument when they wanted to move very
heavy loads, and he hastened to make a
trial of it.
This succeeded. In half an hour he
rolled the two pieces of stone clean out
of the cave, which four men with their
hands alone could not have stirred from
their places; and then he had the satisfac-
tion of seeing his dwelling twice as spacious
as before, and, what was of infinitely more
consequence, quite secure as far as the
eye
could examine: for now both the walls
and the ceiling consisted of one hollow
rock, in which there could no where be
discovered the smallest crack.
Edw. But, papa, what was become of
his spider?
Mr. Bill. I am glad you put me in mind.
of it. Poor spider! I had almost forgot it.
But, in truth, I can tell you nothing about
it, unless that, according to all appearance,
L4
it
-
248
THE NEW.
it was buried under the ruins of the ceiling;
at least, Robinson never saw it again; how-
ever, his other friends, the lamas, made
him amends for its loss.
He now ventured to turn his steps to-
wards the volcano, from which a black
smoke still continued to rise.
He was
astonished at the quantity of melted mat-
ter that had run from it on all sides; part
of which was not cold yet. For this time,
therefore, he only admired, at a distance,
the grand, but dreadful sight of the smok-
ing gulf, because fear, and the lava, which
was still too hot, hindered him from ap-
proaching nearer.
Having remarked that the principal
stream of lava had taken its course towards
the spot where his potatoes grew, he was
much terrified at the idea that this torrent
of fire might, perhaps, have laid waste the
whole place; nor could he be easy until he
satisfied himself on this head. He went,
therefore, to the spot, and found, to his
great joy, the whole plantation safe and
sound.
1
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
249
:
From that moment, he resolved, at all
hazards, to plant potatoes in many different
parts of his island, in order to prevent the
misfortune of seeing himself deprived of
so admirable a fruit by some unlucky ac-
´cident or other. It is true, winter, accord-
ing to his reckoning, was now just at hand;
but," said he to himself, "who knows
whether these plants are not of the sort
that will stand the winter?"
Having put this design into execution,
he began again to work upon his kitchen.
Here also the terrible convulsion of nature
which had just happened, was the means
of procuring him a great advantage; for,
you must know, that the burning moun-
tain had, amongst other things, thrown up
a considerable quantity of limestones.
These are commonly burnt in a kiln before
lime can be made of them; but here that
was not necessary, for the burning moun-
tain had already been as good as a lime-
kiln to them.
Robinson, therefore, had only to gather.
L 5
a. small
THE NEW
250
"
a small heap of these stones, to throw water
upon them, and then to stir the heap well
about. Thus the lime was slaked, and
made proper for the mason's use. He then
mixed with it a little sand, fell to work
immediately, and had reason to be pleased
with his own cleverness.
In the mean time, the mountain, had
ceased smoking, and Robinson ventured to
approach the gulf. He found the sides.
and the bottom covered with cold lava;
and as he could not perceive the least smoke
come out any where, he had reason to hope
that the subterraneous fire was entirely
extinguished, and that, for the future, he
should have no eruptions to dread.
This hope having given him fresh
strength and spirits, he turned his thoughts
towards laying in a store of provisions
against the winter. With this intent he
caught, one after another, eight lamas, in
the same manner as he had caught the first.
All these he killed, except one ram, which
he kept alive to be company for his three
tame
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
251
tame lamas; and he hung up the greatest
part of the flesh in his kitchen to smoke.
But first he had let it lie some days in salt,
because he had remembered to have seen
his mother do so at home, when she made
bacon,
Here was a pretty good stock of provi-
sions; yet still he dreaded lest he should
fall short if the winter was severe and lasted
long. For this reason, he would have ta-
ken more lamas, but he found his method
would no longer answer; for the creatures
had, at length, taken notice of his manner
of noosing them, and were, therefore, on
their guard; so that he was obliged to in-
vent some new way of taking them.
This way he soon found: so inexhaustible
are the resources of the human mind, if
properly exerted, in providing for its wants,
and encreasing its happiness. He had ob-
served that the lamas, whenever they per-
ceived him near the spring, ran swiftly to-
wards a neighbouring coppice, in their way
to which they passed over a little hill. The
farther
L 6
252
THE NEW
1
farther side of this hill was hedged, as it
were, with small thickets; and close be-
hind this hedge there was a descent as steep
as a wall, and about a couple of yards deep,
The lamas, in their flight, always jumped
clean over the hedge, and landed at the
bottom of the hill; and this observation
determined him to dig a deep hole on this
spot, where the lamas jumped down, that
they might fall into it and be taken. His
indefatigable labour finished in a day and
a half this new work of his invention. The
pit he covered over with green branches,
and the next day had the satisfaction of see-
ing two tolerable large lamas taken in it.
He now thought himself sufficiently pro-.
vided with meat. He would have been
puzzled where to lay it all up during the
winter, if the earthquake had not furnished
him with a cellar in every respect complete:
for close by his cave another piece of the.
hillock had sunk about two fathom in depth,
and thereby formed a second cavern, open-
ing, as well as the first, into his enclosure.
He had now his dwelling apartment, kit-
}
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
253
chen, and cellar, all adjoining each other,
and placed as conveniently as if they had
been planned and laid out by art.
There now remained three things more,
which done, he was to count himself fully.
guarded and provided against the expected
approach of winter: hay was to be made
for his lamas; a stock of wood to be laid
up for firing; and all his potatoes were to
be dug up, and lodged in the cellar.
Hay he had collected in a pretty large
quantity, and stacked it up in his court-
yard, as haymakers do here; and whenever
he put fresh hay on it, he trod it down so
hard that the rain could not easily soak
into it. But here experience taught him
a little more of haymaking, though at the
expence of some labour and trouble.
You must know, he had not taken care`
to dry the hay perfectly. Whenever this
happens, and it is at the same time pressed
down tightly in the stack, it begins to heat,
next to smoke, and at length it takes fire.
This was a matter that Robinson had never
heard
254
THE NEW
heard of when he was young; for he had.
never much troubled his head about farm-
ing business; but in his present situation
he learned how useful it is to remark every
thing, and to collect as much information
as possible, even though we cannot foresee
how far it may, one day or other, become.
useful.
His surprise was great, indeed, when he
saw, all of a sudden, his haycock begin to.
smoke; but he was still much more asto-
nished, when, on thrusting his hand into it,
he found the inside burning hot. He could
not persuade himself but that the hay was
on fire, though he could not possibly con-
ceive how the fire could get in there.
He took down the haycock, therefore, as.
fast as possible; but was very much sur-
prised to find no fire, and to see that the
hay was every where extremely hot and
moist. He was, therefore, at last, con-
vinced, (as was really the case) that the
moisture alone caused the hay to heat,.
though he could, in no wise, conceive how
that should be.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
255
Rich. I must own I find it hard to ima-
gine how wetness alone can make any
thing heat.
/
ཟ་
Mr. Bill. My dear Richard, there are a
thousand such effects as this in nature; and
human reason, which hath been reflecting
on them for many ages, hath clearly dis-
covered the true causes of many of them.
These useful discoveries are comprised in
a science, of which, perhaps, you do not
know the name. It is called Natural Phi-
losophy. There you may find the reason
of this remarkable effect of moisture, as
well as many other appearances in nature
that are extremely singular. And if you
continue to apply yourself properly to the
sciences which you are learning at present,
I will teach you also that of natural philo-
sophy, which will give you inexpressible
pleasure. Here it would be to no purpose
to introduce it, because you could not
understand what I should say to you.
Robinson then dried his hay afresh, and
made it up into a fresh haycock, which
could stand secure against both wind and
།
256
}
THE NEW
1
rain. To render it still more secure, he
topped it with a covering of reeds, scarce
inferior in firmness to our thatch roofs.
For some days following, he employed
himself in gathering as much dry wood as
he judged he should want. After this, he
dug up his potatoes, and found them a
very considerable stock. These he laid
up carefully in his cellar. Lastly, he shook
the lemon-tree, and brought home as many
of the fruit as were ripe, to preserve them
too against the winter; and now he was
freed from all apprehensions of want du-
ring the bad weather.
But though it was almost the end of
October, the cold, which had made Ro-
binson so uneasy, was not to be felt in the
least. Instead of that, the weather turned
to rain, and it rained so incessantly that
the air seemed to be changed into water.
He did not know what to think of it. For
a fortnight together, he never put his foot,
outside of his cave, unless to go to the cel-
lar, the haystack, or the spring, to fetch
victuals
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
257
victuals and water for himself and his la-
mas. The rest of the time he was obliged
to pass like a prisoner.
How heavily the hours crept on! No-
thing to do, and all alone! My dear chil-
dren, it is impossible for you to imagine a
greater misery! If any body could have
given him a book, or pen, ink, and paper,
he would, with great chearfulness, have
given one day of his life for every sheet
of paper. "Oh!" said he now and then to
himself, with a heavy sigh, "how silly was
I in my younger days to look upon read-
ing and writing as something tiresome, and
idleness as something agreeable! The most
tedious book in the world would now be a
treasure to me, and I would prefer a sheet
of paper, with pen and ink, to the posses-
sion of a kingdom."
During this wearisome time, necessity
forced him to have recourse to all sorts of
employments which he had not hitherto
tried. He had been meditating a long time
whether it would not be possible for him to
make
258.
THE NEW
make an earthen pot and a lamp; things-
which would have rendered his situation in-
comparably better. He ran, therefore, in
the middle of the rain, to look for potter's
earth; and, having found a sufficient quan-
tity of it, he immediately began to work.
"
The making of earthen vessels did not
succeed with him all at once: he made.
many ineffectual trials at first; but, hay-
ing nothing else to do, as often as his work.
was finished, and not to his liking, he
amused himself with breaking it to pieces,.
and beginning afresh. He spent a few
days in this manner, his work affording
him amusement rather than trouble, until
at length his pot and lamp were finished so
complete, that it would have been ill-nature
to break them again. He placed them,
therefore, in his kitchen, not far from the
fire, to dry gradually. After this, he went
on making other pots, pans,..and pipkins,
of different shapes and sizes; and the more
he practised this work, the more ready he
became at it.
The rain continued, in the mean time,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
259
without interruption. Robinson, therefore,
saw himself under the necessity of invent-
ing other domestic labours to keep himself
from the unpleasant effects of having no-
thing to do. His first task was to make a
fishing net. He had laid in, beforehand,
a pretty good stock of packthread, which
came now very seasonably into use. As he
took time enough, and had the patience to
try a thing ten times or more, which did
not succeed with him at first, he found,
at length, the true method of making the
knots, and he became as clever at the work
as any woman or girl in this country who
practises making nets or purses: for he
had invented also an instrument of wood,
which he cut with his knife of flint, some-
thing in the form of a spit; and with, this
he contrived to make a net, which, for
goodness and real use, was little inferior
to our common fishing nets.
It next came into his head to try whether
he could not make a bow and arrows. The
thought of this set him all alive, when he
considered the many great advantages that
260
THE NEW
f
t.
a bow would procure him! With a bow
and arrows he could kill lamas, he could
shoot birds, and-what was by far more
important with these he could defend
himself in his dwelling place, if ever the
savages came to attack him. He was all.
impatience to see the bow finished, and
ran, notwithstanding the rain and the wind,
to look for the proper wood.
For it was not every sort of wood that
was fit for the purpose; it should be at
the same time hard and supple, that ou the
one hand it might be bent without much
difficulty, and on the other, when bent,
might endeavour to return to its former.
state.
Rich. It should be elastic, papa; should
it not?
i
Mr. Bill. The very thing. I did not
know that you remembered the significa-
tion of that word, and therefore I did not
chuse tomake use of it.
Having, therefore, found and cut a piece
of this sort of wood, he carried it home, and
began immediately to work upon it. But,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
261
alas! how did he then feel the want of a
proper knife! He was obliged to cut twen-
ty times to bring off as much wood as we
could cut at once with a knife of steel.
Though he worked from the rising to the
setting of the sun at this task without the
least intermission, he was obliged to be eight
whole days about it. I know some people
who would not have had such patience.
Geo. (to the other children) Papa means.
us now.
Mr. Bill. George, you have just guessed
it; and do not you think that I am right?
Geo. Why, yes, papa. But, for the fu-
ture, I will take care to go on with what-
ever work I once begin.
Mr. Bill. You will do well.
Robinson,
at least, found the advantages of doing so.
He had the inexpressible joy of seeing his
bow finished on the ninth day; and now he
wanted nothing but a string and arrows.
If he had thought of it when he killed the
lamas, he would have tried, perhaps, to
make strings of their guts; for he knew
that
1
262
THE NEW
1
that in Europe, it is common to make them.
out of sheeps guts. For want, therefore,
of catgut he twisted a string of packthread,
and made it as strong as possible. After
this he proceeded to make his arrows.
What would he have given for a small
piece of iron to point his arrows with! But
wishing was to no purpose. As he stood at
the door of his cave, considering how he
might supply the want of iron points to his
arrows, he turned his eyes, by chance, on
the lump of gold which lay there still on the
ground as a thing of no use. "Go," said
he, spurning it with his foot,. "go, useless
metal, and become iron, if you wish that I
should value you!" And, with these words,
he turned away from it, not deigning to
look at it again.
By dint of thinking on the subject over
and over again, he, at length, remembered
to have heard that the savages of some na-
tions make use of fish bones and sharp stones.
to point their lances and arrows; and here-
solved to imitate them in this respect: at
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
263
the same time he formed the design of
making a lance or spear.
These two things were immediately put
into execution. He ran to the sea-side,
and was lucky enough to find some fish-
bones and sharp flints, exactly such as he
wanted. After this, he cut a long, straight
staff for the spear, and returned home wet
*to the very skin.
In a few days the spear and the arrows.
were finished. He had pointed the spear
with a sharp stone, and the arrows with
strong fish-bones; to the other end of his
arrows hetiedfeathers, to make them fly
the better.
He then tried how his bow would shoot;
though it wanted a number of things, which
he could not possibly add to it for want of
iron tools, he found it, however, tolerably
handy for shooting birds, or other small
animals. He did not even doubt but he
should be able, with this bow, to wound a
naked savage dangerously, provided the
savage would let him come near enough.
He
264
THE NEW
He had still better reason to be pleased
with his spear.
His earthen pots and his lamp seemed
now to be sufficiently dry. He resolved,
therefore to make use of them. In the
first place, he put into one of his new pip-
kins a lump of fat, which he had taken out
of the lamas that he killed. This fat he in-
tended to melt, and use as oil for his lamp.
But he had the mortification to perceive.
that the fat, as soon as melted, soaked
through the pipkin, and filtered out, drop
by drop, so that very little remained in the
pipkin. He concluded from thence, that
the lamp and pots would have the same de-
fect, and consequently never be of any use
to him; a conjecture which experience
very soon verified.
What a disagreeable accident! He had
made himself so happy in thinking that he
should soon spend the evenings pleasantly
by the light of a lamp, and be able, once
more, to taste a dish of broth; but now all
these fine hopes seemed to vanish in a mo-
ment.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
265
Henry. It was certainly a great vexation
to see so much trouble lost.
Mr. Bill. Without doubt it was so; and
some people, that I know, would have been
provoked to fling all the work away, and
never, meddle with pot-making again. But
Robinson was, by this time, pretty well.
practised in patience, and had taken it
strongly in his head that a thing should
never be done by halves, while it was pos-
sible to finish it completely.
He sat down, therefore, in his studying
corner (for so he called one of the corners of
his cave, where he used to sit down when
he had a mind to exercise his invention),
and there he rubbed hisforehead. "Whence
comes it," said he to himself, "that thepots
in Europe, which are made of earth as well
as mine, are, nevertheless, much more com-
pact and do not soak through ?-Why
that is because they are glazed-Hum!
Glazed? Now, what may that be properly
and how is it done?-Aha! I think I
know now! Yes, it must be so! Have not
Vol. I.
M
I read
✪
५
266
THE NEW
I read somewhere, that sand and several
other substances, such as earthen vessels,
are of the nature of glass, and might be
turned into real glass by a strong fire? It
must certainly be so that they manage it:
they put the earthen ware into a hot fur-
nace, and when it begins to melt, they.
take it out lest it should be entirely chang-
ed into glass. Yes, yes, that is the whole
art. I must do in the same manner.”
No sooner said than done: he kindled a
good fire in his kitchen, and when it was in
full blaze, he put one of his pipkins into the
very middle of it. However, it was not
long there before-crack it went, and split
in pieces." Heyday!" said Robinson,
"who would have thought it?"
He sat down again in his studying cor-
"What could have been the reason
ner.
of this?" said he to himself." Have 1
ever met with any thing similar to this be-
fore?-Eh! certainly I have. In winter-
time, when we have put a tumbler full of cold
water or beer on a warm stove, did not the
glass
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
267
1
1
glass break immediately?-Has it ever hap-
pened that the glass did not break? Yes,
when it was put on the stove before it was
quite hot, or when we put a piece of paper
under it. Very well: I am pretty sure of
one thing: ay, ay, that must be the case.
I must take care not to put it upon the fire
all at once, but to let it grow warm first.
I must take care also that the fire do not
come to one of the ends of it-A lucky
thought!" cried he, quite overjoyed, and
starting up to make a second trial.
This succeeded rather better. The pip-
kin did not split; but, then, on the other
hand, it was not glazed neither.
Q
"How comes this?" said Robinson to
himself. "And yet I thought the fire was
hot enough. What can it possibly wanit
still!" After meditating a long time upon
the matter, he thought, at length, he had
hit upon the reason. He had made the ex-
periment with a fire which was not closed
up in a stove or oven, but burned in the
open air. This fire lost its force too soon,
M 2
and
268
THE NEW
and was too much spread on every side to
heat the earthen ware sufficiently. for glaz-
ing it. Robinson, therefore, determined
to stick to his principle of not doing things
by halves, and to construct a proper open
or furnace like those in the potteries; but
for this it was requisite that the weather
should be more favourable.
For, you must know, it rained still in-
cessantly; nor did the sky, at last, begin
to clear up till after the expiration of two
months. Robinson thought now that the
winter was going to set in; whereas, behold.
ye, the winter was past! He could scarce
believe his eyes, when he saw every appear-
ance of spring-the grass green and ten-
der, the trees budding out and blossom-
ing, and fresh flowers beginning every
where to blow; and yet it really was so.
The thing was beyond his comprehension,
though he saw it clearly before his eyes
"This will be a warning to me," said he,
"never for the future to deny any thing
hastily that I do not understand.”
Mrs.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
269
Mrs. Bill. Did not he go to bed when
he had said so?
Geo.
Oh! mamma, we are none of us
the least sleepy.
Mr. Bill. I am not very positive whether
he did or not; my information fails me in
that respect. However, as I find nothing
else remarkable in this day's occurrences,
as they appear in the old history of Robin-
son's adventure on the island, I presume
`I
that, after these words, he actually did go
to bed. And we will do the same, that,
like him, we may rise tomorrow with the
sun.
ELEVENTH EVENING.
GEORGE. Papa, I should like to be in
Robinson's place now.
Mr. Bill. Would you really?
M 3
Geo.
270
THE NEW
}
2
Geo. Yes, for now he has every thing
that he wants, and lives in a fine country
where there is never any winter.
Mr. Bill. Every thing that he wants,
has he?
Geo. Yes: has not he potatoes and meat,
and salt and lemons, and fish and turtle,
and oysters; and do not the lamas give
him milk? He can make butter and cheese
now.
Mr. Bill. So he has too, for some time
past, though I forgot to mention it.
Geo. Well, and then he has a bow and
arrows, and a spear, and a snug place to
live in. What more could he wish?
Mr. Bill. Robinson knew very well the
value of all these good things, and thanked
God for them; nevertheless, he would have
given the half of his remaining life for the
arrival of a ship that would carry him to his
own country.
Geo. Ay! why what did he want still?
Mr. Bill. Many things; an infinite deal
of things, not to say every thing. He want-
ed
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
271.
ed those blessings without which there can
be no true happiness here below, as society,
friends, beings of his own species, whom
he might love, and by whom he might be,
in his turn, beloved. Far from his parents,
whom he had so severely afflicted; far from
his friends, whom he could not hope ever
to see again; far from men, from all men,
from all the world; alas! in this melan-
choly, what joy could he taste, had he even
the richest abundance possible of all the
good things which this earth affords? Try,
my little friend, try only once, but for
one single day, to be quite alone in a soli-
tary place, and then you will know what a
life of solitude is!
Besides, Robinson was far from having
his many other wants gratified. His cloaths.
were falling by degrees all to rags; nor
did he know how he was to have new
cloaths when these should be past use.
Rich. Oh! As to cloaths, he might very
well do without them in an island where it
was so hot, and where there was no winter.
M 4
Harriet.
272.
THE NEW
Harriet. Oh fie! would you have him
go naked?
Mr. Bill. It is true, he had no occasion
for cloaths to protect him from the cold;
but he had much occasion for them to
guard his body from the insects with which
this island swarmed, particularly muski-
toes.
Edw. What are these creatures, these
muskitoes?
In
Mr. Bill. A sort of flies, whose sting is
much more painful than that of ours.
whatever country they are found, they
torment the natives exceedingly; for their
stings produce almost as painful swellings
as those of bees or wasps do with us. Ro-
binson's face and hands were almost always
swelled with them. Now, what must he
expect to suffer when once his cloaths
were worn out! and that time was coming
very fast.
This, together with his earnest and long-
ing desire to behold his parents, and society
in general, once more drew many a sigh
from
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
273
from him, when standing on the sea-shore,
and looking, with moistened eyes, over the
boundless ocean, he could distinguish no-
thing but the sea and sky. How did his
heart sometimes flutter with empty hope,
when, in the distant horizon, he perceived
a small cloud, which his imagination repre-
sented to him as a ship in full sail! And
when, at length, he discovered his mistake,
how the tears would trickle from his eyes,
and his heart seem ready to burst as he
returned home slowly to his habitation!
Harriet. He should have prayed for
the coming of a ship; perhaps his prayers
might have been heard.
Mr. Bill. He did so, my dear Harriet.
He prayed night and day for his deliver-
ance from the desert island; but he never
forgot, at the same time, to add, "Not
mine, O Lord! but thy will be done."
Harriet. Why did he add that?
Mr. Bill. Because he was now perfectly
convinced that the Supreme Being knows
much better than we do what is for our in-
M 5
terests.
274
THE NEW
terests. He reasoned thus: "If it be the
good pleasure of my heavenly Father to let
me remain here longer, he certainly has
very good reasons for it, though I cannot
see them; consequently, I ought to pray for
my liberty, barely on condition that his wis-
dom shall think it to be for my advantage."
Lest a vessel should happen any day to
pass or cast anchor near the island, at a
time when he was not near the sea-shore,
he resolved to fix, on the neck of land
which jutted out towards the sea, a signal
by which all who should come in sight
might be informed of his distress. This
signal was no more than a pole, on the
top of which he fastened a banner.
Edw. Ay! where did he get the ban-
ner?
Mr. Bill. I am going to tell you. His
shirt was then in such a state, that it was
impossible to wear it longer.
He took,
therefore, the largest slip of it, shaped it
into a kind of banner or flag, and fixed it
on the pole that he was to stick up.
He
12

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
275
He would have been very glad to put up
also, on his pole, a label, with an inscription,
to give a clearer idea of his distress; but
how was this to be done? The only way in
his power was to cut out the letters with
his knife of flint. Next to this the question
was, in what language the inscription should
be. If it were English, there might come
by ships of other nations, as Dutch, Spa-
nish, or French, and the people might hap-
pen not to understand it. Luckily he re-
collected some Latin words, by which he
could express what he wished.
•
- Geo. But would seamen understand that?
Mr. Bill. The Latin language, you
know, is common in all countries of Europe,
and most men who have received any edu-
cation, know, at least, something of it.
Hence Robinson hoped, that, in whatever
ship passed that way, there might be one
or two, at least, who would understand his
inscription. He, therefore, put it up.
Rich. What was it, then?
Mr. Bill. Ferte opem misero Robinson !
Do you understand, George?
276
THE NEW.
Geo. Yes, papa. Help the unfortunate
Robinson!
Mr. Bill. His greatest inconvenience
now was the want of shoes and stockings.
They were fallen to pieces, and the mus-
kitoes did so furiously attack his naked
legs, that he knew not where to fly from
them. His face, his hands, and his feet,
were so swelled by the stings of these in-
sects, since the raining season, during
which they had multiplied prodigiously,
that he seemed no longer to be the same
person.
How often did he sit down in his study-
ing corner, to think of some way to cover
himself! But always to no purpose. He
had neither instruments nor skill to pro-
vide himself with what he wanted, and
what he found so indispensably necessary.
The skins of the lamas that he had killed
appeared the readiest means whereby he
might clothe himself; but these skins were
still raw and stiff, and unfortunately he
had never troubled himself concerning the
manner in which tanners and curriers pre-
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
277
pared the raw hides; and even if he knew
how to do this, he had neither needle nor
thread to sew the leather, or make it serve
for any part of his dress.
Nevertheless, necessity was pressing.
He could neither work by day, nor sleep
by night, the flies did persecute him so in-
cessantly with their stings. Something
must be done, or some fortunate accident
take place to hinder him from perishing in
the most miserable manner.
Henry. In fact, to what purpose were
these miserable insects created, since they
are only a trouble and torment to us?
Mr. Bill. Why, I might, in my turn,
ask you, to what purpose were we created,
you and I, and other men?
Henry. On purpose that we might be
happy in the world.
Mr. Bill. And what could have induced
our Creator to propose this object to him-
self, in creating us?
Henry. His goodness, which is so great
that he did not desire to be happy alone.
Mr.
278
THE NEW
}
Mr. Bill. Very well, and do you not
think that these insects also enjoy a sort
of happiness?
Henry. Yes, that I can easily imagine.
We see how they rejoice when the sun
shines and it is pretty hot.
Mr. Bill. Right; and does not this rea-
son give you to understand to what pur-
pose they were created? Namely, that they
also may rejoice upon the earth, and be
as happy as their nature will permit them.
Is not this purpose perfectly consistent
with infinite goodness?
Henry. Yes; only I think that the Su-
preme Being might have created such
animals alone as do harm to nobody.
Mr. Bill. Be thankful to your Creator
that he has done no such thing.
Henry. Why?
Mr. Bill. Because, otherwise, neither
you nor I nor any of us would ever have
existed.
Henry. How so?
Mr. Bill. Because we belong precisely to
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
279
the most devouring and destructive species
of animals in the world. All the other
creatures of the earth are not only our
slaves, but we even kill them at our plea-
sure; sometimes to eat their flesh; some-
times to have their skins; sometimes be-
cause they are in our way; sometimes for
other reasons which we could not easily
justify. How much more cause, therefore,
would the insects have to ask why that
cruel animal man was created? Now, what
would you answer to a fly that should ask
you this question?
· Henry (hesitating). Why-indeed I
don't know.
Mr. Bill. Now, for my part, I would
speak to him in these words: "My friend,
Mr. Fly, your question is very inconsiderate,
and shews that you have not a thinking
head, and that you know not the art of re-
flection; otherwise you would easily have
discovered, with the smallest grain of
thought, that the Supreme Being hath,
merely of his goodness, created several of
his
280
THE NEW
his creatures in such a manner that one is
obliged to live upon others: for, if he had
not done so, he could not have created by
one half so many species of animals as he
has, because grass and the fruits of the
earth, would have been sufficient but for a
few species of living creatures. To the
end, therefore, that all nature might be
animated that there might be every where,
in the water, in the air, and on the earth,
living animals which should rejoice in their
existence, and to the end that one species.
of creatures might not multiply too much
to the destruction of another, it was ne-
cessary that our wise and good Creator
should destine some of his creatures to fur-
nish the subsistence of others Thou thy-.
self, friend fly, dost feast on the blood of
other animals, and even on ours. Why
shouldst thou take it amiss if the spider
catch thee in her web, or the swallow de-:
vour thee as a sweet morsel?
•
What think you, Henry? Would not the
fly, if it were wise, be contented with this
answer?
4
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
281
Henry. I don't know, papa. I am con-
tented.
Mr. Bill. Well, now we will return to
our friend Robinson.
Necessity forced him to help himself the
best he could. He took the skins, there-
fore, and cut out of them with his knife of
flint, but not without a great deal of trou-
ble, first a pair of shoes, and then a pair of
stockings. He could not sew either of them:
he was obliged, therefore, to content him-
self with making eyelet-holes in them, and
lacing them to his legs and feet with a
string; which was no doubt subject to great
inconveniences: for though he turned the
hair outwards, he still felt, a violent heat in
his feet. Besides, the skin, which was stiff
and hard, blistered his feet, and took the
skin off at the least attempt that he made
to walk, and so caused him very great pain.
However, he chose to endure this rather
than the stings of the muskitoes.
Of another piece of skin, which was very
stiff and a little bent, he made a mask,
cutting
282
THE NEW
cutting in it two small holes for the eyes,
and another for the mouth, that he might
be able to breathe.
And, since he had begun this work, he
resolved not to quit it until he had finished
with making himself a jacket and trowsers
of lamas skin. It is true, this task was
much more difficult; but have we any thing
without trouble? and what is there in
which we do not succeed at last, with the
requisite patience and application? Thus
he also accomplished his design, which
filled him with inexpressible joy..
The jacket was composed of three pieces,
which were joined together by strings.
Two of these pieces served for the arms,
and the third for the body. The trowsers
consisted of two pieces, one before and one
behind, and they were laced at the sides.
When the jacket and trowsers were finish-
ed, he put them both on, with the resolu
tion never to dress himself again in his old
European cloaths, which were half torn to
pieces, except upon the birthdays of his fa-
ther
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
283
ther and mother, which he celebrated as
solemn festivals.
His dress was then the most singular that
can be imagined: from head to foot cover-
ed in skins, with the hair outwards; instead
of a sword, a large hatchet of stone by his
side; on his back a pouch, with a bow and
quiver of arrows; in his right hand a spear
almost twice as long as himself, and in his
left a wicker umbrella, covered with leaves
of the cocoa-nut tree: lastly, upon his
head, instead of a hat, a cap of wicker-
work, rising in a point, and covered in the
same manner with skins, the hairs out-
ward. Imagine to yourselves what a figure
all this must cut: nobody that saw him
accoutered in this extraordinay equipage,
would suspect him to be a human creature:
nay, he could not help laughing at himself,
when, being on the bank of a rivulet, he
saw his image in the water in this dress for
the first time.
After this, he resumed his potter's work.
The oven was soon finished, and then he
had
*
284.
THE NEW
had a mind to try whether, by force of an
exceeding great fire, he could not produce a
sort of glazing on his pots. He put them,
therefore, and his pipkins into it, afterwhich
he made up by degrees so great a fire, that
the oven was red hot from one end to the
other. This violent fire he kept up until
evening, suffering it then to go out by de-
grees, and being very curious to know the
result of his labour. But what, think ye,
was the result of it? The first pot that he
took out was not glazed, notwithstanding
all that he had done, nor the second neither,
nor, in short, any of them. But, at last, im
examining one of the pipkins, he perceived,
with equal joy and surprise, that this, and
this alone, was covered at bottom with a
real glazing.
This was to him a riddle which he could
by no means solve.
world could there be,
single pipkin is a little
"What reason in the
""
said he, "why this
glazed, and not one
of the other vessels, though they were all
made of the same earth, and baked in one
and
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
285
and the same oven ?"-He thought and
thought again, but he was a long time be-
fore he could see the least glimpse of any.
thing that seemed likely to explain the
mystery.
At length, he recollected that there had
been a little salt in this pipkin when he
put it into the oven. He could not help
thinking, therefore, that the salt alone
must be the cause of the glazing.
Rich. But was it really the salt, papa,
that produced this effect?
Mr. Bill. Yes: what Robinson now dis-
covered by chance has been long known
in Europe; the addition of salt is the true
cause why many things turn to glass in the
fire: so that he only need have rubbed the
earthen ware with salt water, or barely have
thrown a little salt into the oven when
heated, and immediately all his pots would
have been properly glazed.
This, therefore, he resolved to try the
next day. And now the fire blazed under.
his oven, and already he had rubbed some
of:
286
THE NEW
}
of his vessels with salt water, and put dry
salt in others, on purpose to make the two
experiments at the same time, when, in the
midst of his work, he was interrupted by
an accident which he had dreaded a long
time-he was taken ill. He felt pains in
his breast and head, and a great weariness
all over his limbs, and was threatened with
the most terrible situation that a man can
possibly experience.
"Good Heaven!" said he to himself;
"what will become of me if I cannot rise
out of bed! if there is no compassionate
being to take care of me, and come to my
assistance in my illness! no friend to wipe
off the sweat of death from my forehead, or
offer me any refreshment!-Heavens! what
will become of me!"
Sinking under the weight of his distress,
as he said these words he fell to the ground,
quite exhausted.
Ah! it was in this moment of trial that
he had more occasion than ever to possess a
firm and filial confidence in his heavenly Fa-
ther, who is every where present, and su-
?
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
287
T
premely good. Deprived of all human as-
sistance, forsaken by his own strength, what
remained to prevent his dying in misery?
Nothing but the assistance or God; no
other support had he to expect in the
whole world.
He was on the ground in an agony of dis-
tress: his hands were clasped strongly toge-
ther; and, unable to speak, unable to think,
he looked stedfastly up towards heaven.
"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Mercy!" was all
that he could utter now and then, fetching at
the same time most heavy sighs and groans.
But this state of anxiety did not suffer him
long to remain inactive. He inustered up
what strength he had still remaining, in or-
der, if possible, to place near his bed what-
ever he should most want for refreshment,
that he might not be entirely destitute of
it, in case the sickness absolutely prevented
him from rising, He was barely able to
carry a couple of cocoa-nut shells full of
water, and place them beside his bed. He
next laid some roasted potatoes there, and
four
288
THE NEW
four lemons which he had still remaining,
and then, not able to stir an inch farther,
he fell down with weariness on his miser-
able bed.
If it had pleased his Maker to take him
out of the world by a sudden death, how con-
tentedly would he have yielded up his life!
He even prayed that it might be so; but very
soon he reflected that this prayer was not
reasonable. "Am I not a child of God?”
said he to himself; "Am I not the work of
his hands? is he not my father, and a ten-
der, wise, and almighty father? How have
I, then, the boldness to prescribe to him what
he should do with me? Doth he not know
best what is good for me, and will he not
act so as to allot me that which is good?
Yes, he will; God is benevolent, merciful,
and almighty. Be at rest, then, O my soul;
turn thee to thy Maker in those moments of
discomfort towards thy God-who delivers
from all distresses! He will assist thee, he will
assist thee, whether in life or in death!"
After these words he was somewhat, en-
couraged, and raising himself upon his knees,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
289
he prayed with all the earnestness possible,
-saying, "I resign myself to thee, O my
heavenly Father; I resign myself to thy
fatherly guidance! Dispose of me accord-
ing to thy good pleasure. I will bear con-
tentedly whatsoever thou allottest me;
only grant me strength to bear—it is all
that I ask of thee. O mercifui Father,
grant me patience under my afflictions,
and an unshaken confidence in thee. Hear
this prayer, this only earnest prayer of thy
poor child who is in misery; hear it for
thy tender mercy's sake!"
At the same time, he was attacked with
a violent ague. Though he covered him-
self all over with the dried lama skins, yet
he could not keep himself warm. This cold
fit lasted full two hours, and was succeeded
by a hot fit, which was like a burning fire
through all his veins. His breast, by the
violent beating of his pulse, heaved and
sunk like the breast of a person that is out
of breath with running. In this terrible
situation he had scarce strength enough to
· Vol. I.
N
lift
290
THE NEW
1
lift the cocoa-nut shell, with the water in
it, to his mouth, that he might cool his
burning tongue.
At length a violent sweat broke out all
over his body in great drops, and that af
forded him some ease. When, at the end of
about an hour, it abated, he recovered his
spirits a little, and then he was distrest with
the idea that his fire would go out if fresh
wood was not put on. He crept, therefore,
weak as he was, upon all fours, and threw
as much wood upon the hearth as would
be sufficient to keep the fire until the next
morning; for night was now approaching.
It was the worst night that ever he pass-
ed in his life. The cold and hot fit of his
ague followed each other without intermis-
sion. He had a violent and continual pain
in his head, and could not close his eyes
the whole night. All this weakened him
so much, that in the morning he was
scarcely able to crawl towards the heap of
wood to replenish his fire.
Towards evening his illness increased
afresh;
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
201
afresh: he tried again to go as far as the
hearth, but for this time he found himself
unable. He was obliged, therefore, to give
up all thought of keeping in his fire; and
this, in effect, soon became a matter of
indifference to him, as he now expected
death to approach in a short time.
This night was as restless as the last. In
the mean time the fire went out; the re-
mainder of the water that was in the cocoa-
nut shells began to spoil, and Robinson was
no longer able to turn himself in his bed.
He thought he felt the approach of death,
and his joy on this account afforded him
sufficient strength to prepare himself for
his last journey with a devout prayer.
He again humbly asked forgiveness of
God for his sins, and then thanked him for
all the blessings that he had vouchsafed
him-unworthy as he was-during the
whole course of his life. But, particularly,
he thanked him for the afflictions which had
been sent him for his amendment, and he
acknowledged sincerely how wholesome
they had been to him. Lastly, he prayed
292
THE NEW
#
for the comfort and happiness of his poor
parents; after which, he recommended his
immortal soul to the eternal mercy of his
God and Father. He then settled himself,
and waited for death with joyful hope.
Aud, indeed, death seemed to advance.
fast; his pains increased, his breast began
to rattle, and his breathing became more.
and more difficult. Ah! behold the wish-
ed-for moment! It seems to come at
length. A pain, such as he had not felt
before, seized his breast; he suddenly
stopt breathing, felt a convulsive shudder-
ing, sunk down on his bed, and was de-
prived of sense and motion.
*
All the young company remained silent
for a pretty long time, and by their sorrow
shewed the respect that they bore to the
memory of their friend whom they had never
seen-" Poor Robinson!" cried some of
them, sighing. "Ileaven be praised! said
others; "he is now delivered out of all his
pain!" And thus they separated for that
evening, rather more quietly and with more
appearance of thoughtfulness than usual.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
293
TWELFTH EVENING.
CHARLOTTE. Well, papa, what wil
you read us this evening?
Mr. Bill. You all seem to expect, my
dears, that I should read you something
instructivé and amusing for this evening.
What say ye? shall I go on with the ad-
ventures of Robinson Crusoe?
Charlotte. How! why, Robinson is dead.
Rich. Do not be in a hurry, Charlotte.
He may have recovered.
Don't you re-
member that we thought him dead once
before? And yet he was alive.
Mr. Bill. We left Robinson, after his
convulsive shuddering, fallen into a swoon,
deprived of sense and motion, and, in short,
more dead than alive: nevertheless, he
came to himself again, and recovered his
senses and faculties.
N 3
The
294
THE NEW
The children. Ah! that is right-we
are all of us glad that he is not dead.
Mr. Bill. The first token of his breath-
ing again was a deep sigh. He opens his
eyes, looks round him to know where he
is. At that moment he doubts his being
alive; but his doubts were soon removed.
He, then, falls into a fit of melancholy,
and, in his present situation, would have
preferred death to life.
He feels himself very weak, but free from
all troublesome pain. The burning heat,
which tormented him before, is now suc-
ceeded by a kindly sweat all over his body.
To encourage it, he covers himself well up
with skins, and before half an hour was at an
end, he found himself considerably relieved.
But now he was seized with a violent
thirst. The water that remained was no
longer drinkable: luckily, he thought of
his lemons: he put one of them to his mouth,
and so weak was he that his teeth could
scarcely enter it; but when he had sucked
a little of the juice, he found himself grealy
refreshed,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
295
refreshed, and his thirst quenched. He now
composed himself to rest, his perspiration
still continuing, and enjoyed an agreeable
slumber until sunrise.
How pleasing was the sense of his ex-
istence at present, compared with what he
had felt the day before! The violence of
his disorder was entirely abated; nothing
remained of it but an excessive weakness.
He found his appetite return already; he
took a roasted potatoe, and sprinkled it
with a drop of lemon-juice, to render it
less insipid and more refreshing.
For two days past he had taken no no-
tice of his lamas; they now afforded a mov-
ing sight: some of them looked at him,
and seemed to ask if he were recovered yet.
Fortunately these animals, as well as ca-
mels, can do without drinking for several
days, otherwise they would have been very
badly off, having never wet their lips for
two days. Besides, Robinson being yet too
weak to rise and fetch them water, they
NA
were
296
THE NEW
་
were likely to be deprived of it still for
some time.
The oldest of the lamas having come up
close to him, he exerted the little strength
that he had in milking her, that she might
not go dry. Her milk, no doubt, assisted
Robinson's recovery; for, after drinking
it, he found himself considerably better.
After this, he fell asleep again, enjoyed
a most refreshing slumber, and did not
awake until sunset. He perceived that his
appetite was increased: he satisfied it again
with some potatoes sprinkled with lemon-
juice, and then went to sleep once more.
This calm, uninterrupted sleep, together
with his good constitution, contributed so
effectually to the recovery of his strength,
that the very-next morning he was able
to rise and attempt to walk a few steps,
though he still staggered with weakness.
He crawled out of his cave into the space.
before it. There he lifts up his eyes to
Heaven. Some beams of the rising sun,
piercing
+
297
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
piercing through the leaves of the trees
that surrounded him, shone agreeably on
his face, and re-animated him with their
pleasing warmth. He thought he felt him-
self receive new life. "Eternal source of
being!" cried he, "God of my life! what
thanks shall I render thee for giving me to
behold, once more, the bright star of day,
and by its light the wonderful works of
thy hands! Receive my gratitude, for that
thou didst not forsake me when all forsook
me; for that thou hast restored me to life
afresh, doubtless in order that I may have
more time to devote to repentance, and
that I may not waste a moment of my re-
maining life without forwarding that work,
the only one thing needful, that I may ever
be found ready to take my flight towards
the place of man's eternal destination,
where each shall receive the reward of his
good or bad actions."
From these effusions of gratitude towards
his Creator, he naturally passed to the ad-
miration of the creatures. His looks wan-
N 5
dered
298
THE NEW
dered, sometimes, over the immensity of
heaven's azure vault; sometimes over the
fresh and smiling verdure of the trees and
shrubs, besprinkled with pearly dew, some-
times on his lamas, which, by crowding
round him, seemed to caress him and express
their joy. He felt a pleasing emotion, like
that of a traveller, who, after a long ab-
sence, enters, once more, the bosom of his
beloved family. His heart being moved
with tenderness, and overflowing with the
kindest sentiments, which sought, as it were,
to expand themselves, he shed a flood of
tears; but they were tears of the purest joy.
14
The advantage of being able to take the
air, and the use of milk mixed with spring
water, together with the contentedness of
his mind, contributed to his perfect reco-
very. In a few days all his strength re-
turned, and he found himself in a capacity
to begin again his former occupations.
He went first to examine his new-made
earthen ware, and to see how it had succeed-
ed. As soon as he opened the oven, what
an
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
299
an agreeable surprise! All his vessels were
as well glazed as if they had been the work
of an experienced potter. In the height of
his joy for this success, he does not per-
ceive that his ware is of no use to him; he
forgets that his fire is out. When, at length,
he recollected this circumstance, he stood
motionless for a while, and, hanging his
head, fixed his eyes, sometimes on his
pots, sometimes on his fire-place, and
ended with heaving a deep sigh.
Nevertheless, he was able this time to
moderate his vexation, and to contain it
within due bounds. "The same good Pro-
vidence," said he to himself, "which before
provided you with fire, has always more.
than one way at hand to provide you with
it again, and you will not be deprived of
it, if Heaven thinks fit." Besides, he was
already taught that he had not the rigors
of winter to fear; and though he was accus-
tomed, from his childhood, to live chiefly
on meat, yet he hoped to be able, and not
N 6
incon-
•
300
THE NEW
inconveniently, to do without it, and live
upon fruits and the milk of his lamas.
Charlotte. Why, he might have used his
smoked meat for victuals; there would
have been no necessity for dressing it.
Mr. Bill. That is true: but how was
he to have smoked meat?
Charlotte. O! I forgot that.
Mr. Bill. After all, he was not sorry that
he had made the pots and pans: they were
convenient to hold his milk, and the largest
he intended for a very particular use.
Rich. What was that?
Mr. Bill. He thought, if his potatoes
were accompanied with butter, he should
relish them better than without.
Rich. I suppose so.
}
Mr. Bill. Not being able to make a
churn of wood, he had a mind to try whe-
ther he could not churn butter in a large
earthen pot. He gathered, therefore, as
much cream as he thought would be suffi-
cient. He shaped
He shaped out also a round flat
piece of wood, in the center of which he
made
TA

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
301
made a hole to receive a stick. This in-
strument he held upright in the cream pot,
and moved it with an incessant motion up
and down, up and down, until the butter
was, at length, separated from the butter-
milk. He then washed the butter in clean
spring water, and made it up with a little
salt.
He was now, once more, happy in the
accomplishment of his design; but, at the
very moment when he was going to reap
the fruits of his industry and perseverance,
he recollected that he must think no more
of potatoes, for want of fire to roast them; a
circumstance which, in the warmth of exe-
cuting his design, kehad never once thought
of. He has butter, but he can make no use
of it; he looks at it, he wishes for it, he puts
it from him, he grows sorrowful. Disap-
pointed in his hopes, he finds himself just
as he was at first, in danger of wanting
every thing. It is true, the oysters, the
milk, the cocoa-nuts, and flesh, either raw
or dried in the sun, might afford him nou-
rishment;
302
THE NEW
rishment; but was it certain that no acci-
dent would deprive him of these resources?
And the most deplorable of all was, that
he could invent no means to render his
unhappy lot better or more secure.
What shall he undertake now? What-
ever his hands, without the help of tools,
were capable of performing, he has already
executed; and it seems now as if he had
nothing left to do but to pass the remainder
of his life in idleness and sleep. Dreadful
destiny! He cannot bear the thought of it.
He was now become so accustomed to work
that he could not live without employing
his time in some useful occupation. In
the latter part of his life, he would often
say, that his reformation was principally
owing to this single circumstance; that he
was constrained, when in solitude, and de-
prived of all assistance, to provide for his
wants himself by persevering labour; and
he would add, "Constant employment is
the mother of a crowd of virtues, as ha-
bitual idleness is the source of all vice."
Rich.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
303
Rich. He was very right; when one has
nothing to do, one thinks of nothing but
follies and nonsense.
Mr. Bill. It is even so; and, therefore,
young persons are advised to accustom
themselves early to employment. The
character that we chiefly put on when we
are young, as idleness or industry, activity
or slowness, virtue or wickedness, gene-
rally remains with us all our lives.
Edw. We should apply that to ourselves.
Mr. Bill. Do so, my dear children, and
conduct yourselves accordingly you will
never repent it. Our unfortunate Robin-
son turned and turned again on every side.
to try what he might undertake, in order to
avoid idleness. At length he found an em-
ployment. Can you guess what it was?
Rich. Were I in his place, I know what
I would have done.
Mr. Bill. Ay! Let us hear your plan.
Rich. I would have undertaken to tan
the lama skins, that their stiffness might not
hurt me when I put them on. Besides, the
hair
304
THE NEW
hair must be very inconvenient in a coun-
try where the heat is so excessive.
Mr. Bill. How would you have set about
it?
Rich. Oh! I know very well how the
tanners do. We have been more than once
to see them at work.
Mr. Bill.
Well.
Rich. First they put the raw hides in wa-
ter, and let them steep there for some days;
from thence they carry them to the leg, ons
which they scrape them, to force out the
water with which they are soaked. After
sprinkling them with salt, they cover them
up carefully to keep the air from them.
This they call sweating the skins. In fact,
they do sweat whilst in this situation: it is
easy to perceive a steam issue from them.
Thus prepared, they are easily deprived of
their hair, which is done by scraping them
again. After this part of the work, they
put the skins into what they call the tan,
composed of leaven, the bark of birch tree,
and a sharp liquor made with oak bark.
Lastly,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
305
Lastly, they place them in the tan vat, where
they sprinkle them with a liquor made also
of oak bark, and from hence they take them
out to curry or dress them; in a word, to
put the finishing hand to them.
Mr. Bill. Very well, my little friend;
but do you know for what use skins thus
prepared by the tanners are intended?
Rich.
Oh! yes they are made into
shoes, boots, coach-harness, and many other
things.
Mr. Bill.
Other things which do not
require so soft and pliable a leather as that,
for instance, of which gloves are made.
Rich. Oh! no.
Mr. Bill. Who is it, then, that prepares
this sort of leather?
Rich. The skinner or fellmonger: but
we have never been in the workshop of
any who follow that business.
Mr. Bill. Robinson was nearly in the
same predicament. He had never been in
the workshop either of tanner or fellmon-
ger, consequently he could not endeavour
to imitate either of them.
306
THE NEW
Edw.
Then how does the fellmonger
manage his skins?
Mr. Bill. He begins like the tanner,
with this difference, that he does not steep
the skins either in tan or in lime, (for this
is also used by the tanners) but he makes
use of warm water, with bran and leaven,
and afterwards a lee of ashes:-but we will
go some day and see them at work.
Rich. If he had known the business even
as well as any skinner, he could not have
attempted to dress skins for want of bran
and leaven.
Mr. Bill. That is clear: so that he was
obliged to give up all thoughts of it.
Edw. But how, then, did he intend to
employ himself?
Mr. Bill. His thoughts were employed
night and day about building a little boat.
Rich. What, use did he intend to make
of it?
Mr. Bill. Do you ask what use? To try,
by means of it, to return amongst his fel-
low-creatures, and to deliver himself from
the
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
307
the solitude towhich he was confined against
his will, and which was become more dismal
to him ever since he was deprived of fire.
He had reason to think that the continent
of America was not far off; and he was de-
termined, if he had a canoe, be it ever so
slight, to face every danger, and land, if
possible, on this continent. Full of this
idea, he hastened out one day to seek and
make choice of a tree, which he might con-
vert into a boat, by hollowing out the trunk
of it. With this design he traversed seve-
ral parts of the island where he had never
been before, and remarked, in his way, se-
veral plants that were unknown to him,
and on which he resolved to make experi-
ments, to find whether they would answer
the purpose of food. Amongst others he
observed some stalks of maize, or Indian
corn, as it is called.
Edw. What, that sort of corn of which
you have two fine ears hanging up in the
back parlour?
+
The same. He admired the
Mr. Bill. The same.
large-
}
308
THE NEW
largeness of the heads, or, more properly
speaking, the ears, on each of which he
reckoned more than two hundred large
grains, closely ranged, one beside the other,
and resembling grains of coral. He had
not the least doubt but this corn might be
used for food, or even for bread. But how
was it to be ground? How was the flour
to be separated from the bran? How was
it to be made into bread, or, indeed, into
food of any sort, without the help of fire?
Notwithstanding all these considerations,
he carried off some ears of it with him, in-
tending to sow the grains. "How do I
know," said he, "but I may reap consider-
able advantage from these in the end ?"
A little further on he discovered a fruit
tree of a species quite new to him. From
this tree hung vast numbers of large
husks, one of which he opened, and found
in it about sixty nuts of a particular sort.
Though they were not very agreeable to
the taste, yet he put one or two of the
ripest huks into his pouch.
Rich.
ROBINSON CRUSOF.
908
Rich. But what fruit might that be?
Mr. Bill. They were cacao-nuts, of which
they make chocolate.
Edw. Ah! now he may have chocolate
for the future.
Mr. Bill. Not so fast. In the first place,
he does not know that he has chocolate-
nuts in. his possession: besides, these nuts
should be roasted, then bruised, and ground
up with sugar, and, we all know, he was as
little provided with sugar as with fire. In
order to improve the flavour of the choco-
late, they commonly add different sorts of
spices, as cardamum, vanilia, and cloves;
but these were unnecessary niceties to be
deprived of, which gave him not the least.
concern in comparison with the want of
fire.
At length he came to another tree, which
was as little known to him as the former.
The fruit of it was as large as that of the
cocoa-nut tree, but had neither husk nor
shell the whole was eatable, and of an ex-
quisite flavour. This tree was also quite
differently
*
i
$10
THE NEW ·
differently shaped from the cocoa-nut tree.
It did not consist, like the latter, of a trunk
which rises straight up its whole height,
and bears a topping of thick foliage; but
this had branches and leaves, like those
of our fruit trees. He learned afterwards
that it was the bread tree, so called be-
cause its fruit serves the natives for bread,
sometimes just as it grows, but more com-
monly pounded and made into a sort of
dough.
He observed, that the trunk of this tree,
from its great age, was already a little hol-
lowed on one side; and immediately he
thought it would answer for the boat that
he had in contemplation, if he could only
find means to cut it down and hollow it
sufficiently. But then to cut down so use-
ful a tree, while, on the other hand, it was
uncertain whether he should ever be able
to make a canoe of it!-this thought star-
tled him. And weighing every thing for
and against it, in his own mind, for a long
time, he carefully marked the spot, that he
might
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
311
might find it again, and went away without
having determined upon any thing.
In his walk he found, what he had long
wished for, a parrot's nest. The discovery
gave him a great deal of pleasure. He went
towards it without the least noise, and was
stretching out his hands to clap them on the
nest, when the young parrots, which were
strong and well fledged, took to flight, and
escaped from him all but one, more slow
than the rest, which could not get away,
and remained his prisoner. He hastened,
therefore, home to his habitation, more
pleased than if he had found a treasure.
Edw. But what great advantage did he
expect from a parrot?
Mr. Bill. He hoped to teach him to pro-
nounce some words, that he might have
the satisfaction of hearing a voice which
imitated that of man. As to us who live
in society, who enjoy the happiness of see-
ing men every day, and hearing them, and
conversing with them, we, perhaps, may
look upon it as a very trifling and childish
satisfaction
312
THE NEW
::
satisfaction which Robinson promised to
himself from hearing the parrot's chatter;
but if we place ourselves in the same cir-
cumstances with him, we shall easily be
sensible, that what to us, in our present
condition, appears but'a shadow of pleasure,
must afford substantial satisfaction to poor
Robinson in his state of solitude.
When he came home, he made a cage
as well as he could, in which he lodged his
new guest, placed it on one side of his bed,
and went to rest with a mind as happy and
rejoiced as that of a man who has gained a
new friend.
THIRTEENTH EVENING.
MR. BILL. I have assembled you this
evening sooner than usual, because, my
dears, I intend to hold a consultation with
you before I go on with the story.
The
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
$13
a
The Children. Well, papa, we are now
all in our places. What. is to be the sub-
ject?
Mr. Bill. It is a question which has dis-
turbed Robinson's mind all night, and has
not suffered him to close his eyes a mo-
ment.
The Children.
What could it be?
t
Mr. Bill. It is this. Shall he cut down
the bread tree which he saw the day before,
or leave it standing as it is, uncertain
whether he should ever be able to make a
boat of it?
Rich. I should be far from meddling
with it.
Edw. For my part, I would cut it down:
Mr. Bill. Here are two opposite votes,
one for cutting down, the other for pre-
serving the tree. Let us hear those who
have not spoken yet on the subject.
Geo. I am of the same way of thinking
with Richard.
Charlotte. And so am I, papa; we must
let the tree stand.
VOL. I.
O
Henry.
314
THE NEW ·
Henry. No: it must be cut down; the
unfortunate Robinson must have a canoe.
Harriet. Indeed I think so too.
Mr. Bill. The voices are divided, and
equal on both sides. Let those who are
for cutting down the tree come on my
right hand, and those who are of the con-
trary opinion on my left.
both parties face each other. Let us now
hear the reasons that each will advance
in favour of his opinion. Richard shall
speak first, and tell us why he is for saving
the tree.
Very well;
Rich. Because it bears a valuable fruit,
and the species is rare upon the island.
Edw. It is but an old tree; the advan-
tage of gathering fruit from it will not
last long.
Rich. How can you tell that? It has
but a slight hollow in it as yet; and how
many trees do we see, the trunks of which,
though hollow, do not hinder them from
bearing fruit for many years?
Harriet. Let Robinson only graft a few
slips
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
315
"
slips of this tree, he will be sure to pre-
serve the species..
Geo. Ay! Do they grow up and bear
fruit so soon? Four or five years may very
well pass before he has any fruit.
Henry. And is it not better to have a
canoe, and return to the society of men,
than to stay in his island, though he were
to feed ever so plentifully upon the bread
made of the fruit of this tree?
Rich. Why, ay, if the canoe could be
finished so very soon. But how is he to
cut down this tree? How is he to hollow it
out, with nothing but a stone hatchet?
Ede. Let him work with perseverance;
let him not be impatient: I dare say he
will accomplish it at last.
Geo. But he has no sail. What voyage,
can he undertake in an open boat?
-
Harriet. He may use oars.
Charlotte,; A pretty notion indeed ! 'Do
not you remember when we were in a boat
down the river, near Putney, and one of the
watermen's oars broke, he was obliged to
0 @
:
go
316
THE NEW
1
go ashore and borrow another, as he said we
could not be rowed home with only one?
Edw. Oh! that was a large boat, and
there were nine or ten of us in-it. But Ro-
binson, in his little skiff, wants nothing but
a pair of oars to guide himself happily far
away from his present solitary habitation.
Mr. Bill. You see, my dear children,
the question is not so easy to resolve. None
of the reasons that you have mentioned on
both sides had escaped Robinson's attention.
He had passed the whole night in reflecting;
for to examine whether it be more conve-
nient to do a thing or not to do it, is called
reflecting. Ever since Robinson had felt the
bitter consequences of his hasty resolution
to travel, he had made it a law with himself
never to undertake any thing without first
maturely reflecting upon it; and in the pre-
sent case, also, he determines to observe
that law. Having turned the question and
examined it in every point of view, he found
it came to no more than this: Whether it
be reasonable to sacrifice a slight, but cer-
tain
1
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
317
tain advantage to a great one, but uncer-
tain? Here he recollected the fable of the
dog, which swimming across a river with
a piece of meat in his mouth, lost it by en-
deavouring to snatch at the reflection of it
in the water. He remembered, on the
other hand, the custom of husbandmen,
who sacrifice grain which they might make
use of; but do it with the hope of being
richly repaid by a plentiful harvest.
"Yes," said he to himself,
"the dog's
greediness was folly; he catched at a vain
shadow, which it was impossible for him to
possess. But the hope of the husbandman,
on the other hand, is well-founded, and his
conduct sensible; he has in view a real
advantage, though, it is true, some acci-
dents may hinder him from cbtaining it. -
"Am I not, therefore, in the situation of
the farmer? With persevering labour, may
I not hope to succeed, at length, in making
a canoe out of this old tree? And if my
first undertaking succeeds, does reason for
bid me to expect that I may escape from this
0 3
solitary
+
318
THE NEW
solitary island, and arrive, by means of my
canoe, at some place inhabited by men?"
This thought, so flattering to his warmest
wishes, made a lively impression on him.
so that he started up that moment, took his
hatchet, ran to the tree, and cut into it.
If ever he undertook a long and trouble-
some task, it was certainly this. A thousand
other men would have been discouraged;
the hatchet would have fallen out of their
hands after the first stroke; they would
have looked upon the undertaking, if not
extravagant, at least as impossible. But we
have seen already, that Robinson made it
a rule never to suffer himself to be turned
from his purpose when he had well consi-
dered it; he was, therefore, unshaken in
his resolution of going through with this
enterprize. Were it to cost him twice the
time and fatigue that it required, yet the
thought of giving it up would never enter
his head. From the sun's rising till about.
noon, he never ceased working, and then
his hand would have covered or filled up
the whole that he had made in the trunk
13

ROBINSON CRUSOE.
319
by the thousands of strokes which he laid
on it. From this we may form some idea
how long a time it will require him to cut
down a tree of such a thickness, and to
make a boat of it.
Being convinced that it would be a work
of some years, he thought proper to regulate
his occupations, and divide his time, so that
each part of the day might have its own
work allotted to itself. Experience had
taught him, that in a life of labour nothing
helps industry so much as regularity, and a
methodical distribution of the work to the
different hours of the day. I will give you
an account of the division that he made of
his time and his occupations, each of which
had its peculiar portion of the day to itself.
He rose at break of day, and went directly
to the spring, where he washed his head,
hands, breast, and feet. Having no linen to
wipe himself dry, he let the air dry his body,
and assisted it by running, as he generally
did, straight home to finish dressing him-
self. He then went up to the top of the
hillock
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THE NEW
hillock at the foot of which his cave was
situated. His sight being then hindered by
no object, he traversed, at one view, all
the beauties of nature that were comprised
in this vast horizon. The sight elevated
his soul. In the posture, therefore, which
he thought most respectful, and in the sin-
cerity of his heart, he worshipped and
prayed to the Author of all Things; and
never failed particularly to entreat that he
would make his parents happy, whom,
though he had forsaken, he never forgot.
He then returned to his cave, and milked
his lamas, which were now encreased in
number to a little flock. He breakfasted
on some of the new milk, and the rest he
put up in his cellar. These were the cares
that employed the first hour of the day.
Now, being provided with whatever was
necessary to his security or his convenience
in working, he went down, if it was low
water, to the sea side, where he gathered
what oysters he could find for his dinner;
if not, he repaired immediately to the tree of
which
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
321
which he intended to make a canoe. His
lamas generally followed him, and grazed
about while he was at work.
About ten o'clock the heat was generally
so excessive that he was obliged to quit his
work. He then went to the sea-side to look
for oysters, if he had not found any in the
morning, and at the same time to bathe,
which he did regularly twice a day. Before
noon he returned home with his flock. He
now milked his lamas a second time, and
prepared a sort of cheese from the milk
which had curdled, and then laid out his
dinner, which, being tolerably frugal, was
soon done. It consisted of new cheese dip-
ped in milk, some oysters, and half a co-
coa-nut. There was one circumstance of
which he had no reason to complain, and
that was, that he had not by half so great
an appetite in this hot country as people
generally have in cold climates: yet, as
he was accustomed from his childhood to
eating meat, he longed for it, and, in order
to satisfy his wish as far as was possible, had
recourse.
322
THE NEW
recourse to his scheme of drying it in the
sun. At dinner time, he amused himself
with his parrot; he spoke to it, and fre-
quently repeated certain words, with the
hope of hearing it pronounce some of them
one-day or another.
Henry. What did he feed it with ?
Mr. Bill. Parrots, when they are wild,
generally feed upon cocoa-nuts, acorns, the
seed of gourds, and other such matters:
when tame, they are fed with whatever is
fit for a man to eat: so that Robinson was
very well able to keep his with cheese and
cocoa-nuts.
·
After dinner, he commonly reposed him-
self, for an hour, either under the shade in
the open air, or else in his cave surrounded
by his lamas, and with his parrot at his side.
Sometimes, as he sat, he would fix his eyes
upon these animals, and speak to them (like
a child that speaks to its doll), as if he ex-
pected them to understand what he said.
So necessary did he find it to communicate
his ideas and his sentiments to living crea-
tures,
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
323
tures, that he often forgot the impossibility
of his being understood by the animals
which surrounded him. When his parrot,
which he called Poll, repeated a word dis-
tinctly, in the height of his joy he would
imagine that he had heard the voice of a
man. He forgot island, lamas, parrot, and
all; his fancy made him suppose himself in
the midst of human creatures again. But
soon recovering from this pleasing illusion,
and finding himself in a dismal solitude, he
would sigh heavily, and breathe forth this
short expression of complaint, Poor Ro-
binson !"-About two o'clock
Edw. How could he always tell what
hour it was?
Mr. Bill. He did as husbandmen some-
times do; he observed the height of the
sun, and judged from thence that it was
such or such an hour nearly.-About two
o'clock he returned to the tree to work at
his grand design. He continued two hours
each time at this laborious task, and then
returned to the beach to bathe himself again,
and to gather more oysters. The rest of
324
THE NEW
the day he spent in working in his garden.
Sometimes he sowed maize, or planted po-
tatoes, hoping that, if he should ever have
fire again, they might both be of great ad-
vantage to him. Sometimes he grafted
from the bread tree; sometimes he watered
the young grafts: sometimes he would
would plant a quickset hedge to enclose his
garden: sometimes he cropped the willows
which surrounded the space before his
cave; he bent and fixed their branches in
such a manner, that as they grew they
might form a kind of bower.
Much to Robinson's grief, the longest
day was, in his island, but thirteen hours.
In the middle of summer it was night at
seven o'clock. Whatever required day-
light for the performance of it, must be fi-
nished before that time. Therefore, as night
drew on, that is to say, about six o'clock,
if he had no other more important business
upon his hands, he went through his exer-
cise.
Rich. What does that mean, papa ?
Mr.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.
325
Mr. Bill. It means that he exercised him-
self at shooting with the bow, and throwing
the spear, that he might be able to defend
himself if he should happen to meet with a
savage or a wild beast, for he was never
perfectly free from the dread of these. By
degrees, he acquired so great a degree of
dexterity in both the exercises above men-
tioned that he seldom missed a mark of the
size of a crown, though at a pretty good.
distance from him. When night came on,
he went home to milk his lamas for the
third time, and took a moderate supper by
the light of the moon or stars.
Lastly, he crowned the labours of the
day by meditating at night upon his own
conduct. Sometimes he went to sit up on
the top of the hillock, from whence he
could behold the starry vault of heaven at
one view, and contemplate it with admira-
tion. Sometimes, also, he took a walk upon
the sea-side, to breathe the air freshened by
the evening breeze. Then he would ask
himself" How have you spent the day?
VOL. I.
P
Having
326
THE NEW
Having received fresh mercies, have you
blessed the divine source from which they
flowed? Has your heart been filled with
love and gratitude to your heavenly Bene-
factor? In your trouble have you put your
confidence in him? In your gratifications
have you forgot him? Have you rejected
the evil thoughts that offered themselves.
to your imagination? Have you suppressed
the extravagant wishes that rose in your
breast? In a word, are you become really
better than you were?"
Whenever to these or the like questions
his conscience could return a good answer,
and testify that the state of his soul was
comfortable, he sung a hymn to the praise
of the Supreme Being who had assisted him
in advancing one step in the road to virtue.
When, on the contrary, he had reason to
be not so well pleased with himself, the
thoughts of having thus lost a day filled
him with sorrow; for he counted the day
lost when he had thought or done any thing
which he could not approve at night.
Whenever
བ
ROBINSON CRUSOE,
327
Whenever this was the case, then close by
the notch that he made every day upon the
tree which served him by way of almanack,
he made two notches crossing each other.
and this served to put him in mind of his
fault, that for the future he might be bet-
ter on his guard, and not fall into the same
error.
•
Thus, my dear children, Robinson la-
boured to correct himself and to become
better every day. Do you also sincerely
resolve to form your hearts to virtue? I
advise you to follow the example that he
now gives you. Like him, reserve an hour
privately every evening, to give an account
to yourselves in silence of the manner in
which you have spent the day; and, if you
find, either in your thoughts, words, or
actions, any thing which your consciences
dare not avow, keep a book wherein you
may mark down the same, to put you in
mind of it from time to time, that, having
before your eyes the fault of which you
have once been guilty, you may ever after-
wards
328
..ROBINSON CRUSOE.
wards take more care to avoid it. By thus
labouring to improve yourselves every
day you will also continually increase your
own satisfaction and happiness.
1
My dear children, I doubt not that you
will afford me every proof of your attention
and docility, and this very night begin to
put in practice the good advice which I
have just now given you.
END OF VOL. I.
T. Bensley, Printer, Bolt Court, Fleet Street, London,

ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
PLURIBUS UNUM
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