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trees, that they might cure and dry in the sun, and they soon became fine raisins.
The rainy and dry seasons now appeared quite regular to me. I dug a piece of ground as well as I could, with a wooden spade of my own making, and began to sow my grain, and my crop amounted to about half a peck of each kind.
In one of the dry seasons I took another ramble, armed with my gun and a hatchet, and guarded by my faithful dog. When I had passed the valley in which stood my bower, I camo within view of the sea; and it being a clear day, I plainly discovered land; but whether island or continent I could not tell; I guessed that it could not be less than twenty leagues off. I imagined it was some savage coast, and such indeed it proved. In this journey I caught a parrot, having knocked it down with a stick, brought it home with me, and taught it to speak.
In another of my journies, my dog seized a young kid, and I saved it alive, highly pleased with the hopes of having a breed of tame goats; and it soon became one of my domestics, and would never leave me.
My thoughts often ran upon the land I had seen; and I began to make myself a canoe. I felled a great cedar, but when the impossibility of launching this heavy thing camo into my mind, I gave myself this foolish answer, “Let mo but once make it, and I warrant I’ll get it along when it is done.” But all my devices to get it into the water failed me, and I therefore gave it over. I also made an umbrella, which I could shut up and take abroad with me, which secured me from the heat and the rain.
I now built a small boat, intending to go round my little kingdom; but after being at sea three days and nights, and nearly losing my life I got safely to land; and on the fourth day, almost dead with fatigue, I at length arrived at my little castle. I got over the fence, and laid mo down to sleep; but judge my surprise, when I waked by a voice calling me by the name, “Robin, Robin Crusoe, where are you? where have you been?” I was so dead asleep at first, that I thought I dreamt somebody spoke to me; but as the voice continued to repeat “Robin Crusoe,” I awaked dreadfully frightened; but no sooner were my eyes open, than I saw Poll sitting on a hedge, and immediately knew that it was he that spoke to me. I immediately called him, and the poor creature came as he used to do, and sat on my thumb, crying, “Poor Robin Crusoe,” as if glad to see me.
It would have made a Stoic smile to see me and my family sit down to dinner. There was my majesty all alone like a king, attended with my servants. Poll, my favourite, was the
