On the 15th of July he started out. First he went to
a brook which ran into the sea near his cave. Its water was clear and
pure; along its shore lay beautiful meadows. As he came to the upper
course of the brook the meadow gave way to forest. On the border of
the forest he found melons and grapes.
The night came on and he slept again in a tree. The next morning he
went farther and came to a clear rivulet. Here the region was
wonderfully beautiful. The flowers bloomed as in a garden, and near
the flowers stood splendid apple and orange trees. He took as much
of the fruit as he could carry and went on his way. This journey
continued three days. The grapes which he had carried he dried in the
sun and made raisins.
The 10th of September came, one year had passed on the island. He was
many hundred miles from home, alone on an island. With tears he cried
out, "Ah! what are my dear parents saying? They have no doubt long
given me up as dead. If I could only send them a message to comfort
them and let them know how much I love them!"
The day was celebrated as a holiday. He thanked God that He had given
him so many good things. Often he had lived the whole day in care and
anxiety. Now he tried to be more cheerful and to meet the troubles
of each day with courage.
But Robinson was not yet satisfied. He longed to know more of the
island and prepared himself for a greater journey. He slung his
hunting pouch over his shoulder, filled it full of food, took his bow
and arrows, stuck his stone hatchet in his belt and started on his
way.
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