418 ROBINSON CRUSOE.

world. My thoughts often ran upon the land I had seen; and I
began to make myself a canoc. I felled a great cedar ; but
when the impossibility of launching this heavy thing came into
my mind, I gave myself this foolish answer, “ Let me but once
make it, and I'll warrant I'll get it along when it is done.” But
all my devices to get it into the water failed me, and therefore
I gave it over, determining to enjoy what I had, without repin-
ing for what I could not get. My clothes now began to decay ;
so I made myself two waistcoats out of some watch-coats, which
lasted me a great while. I made a cap out of a goat's skin, with
the hair side outwards, to throw off the rain, and also another
waistcoat of the same skin: but I must acknowledge that they
were wretchedly done. I made me too an umbrella, which I
could shut up, and take abroad with me; and thus secured me
both from the heat and the rain.

I now built me a small boat, intending to go round my little
Kingdom, but in which [ had nearly lost my life ; almost dead
with fatigue, I at length arrived at my little castle. 1 got over
the fence, and laid me down to sleep in the shade ; but judge my
surprise when I waked, at a voice calling me by the name seve-
ral times, “ Robin Crusoe, poor 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 con-
tinued to repeat “Robin Crusoe,” I waked dreadfully frightened ;
but my eyes were no sooner opened, than I saw Poll sitting on
the hedge, and immediately knew that it was he that spoke to
me. I immediately called him ; and the poor sociable creature
came as he used to do, and sat on my thumb, erying, “ Poor
Robin Crusoe,” as if he had been overjoyed to see me again. I
now began to perceive my powder considerably abated ; dread-
ing what should become of me when I could kill no more goats,
(for my kid did not breed,) I set snares to catch some alive ; but