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'Tis true in one way they prove rather embarrassing,
For his heels are so light,
That with all of his might, He finds getting his head over water most harassing, But at length, after several minutes' submersion, He succeeds, though in truth nearly dead from exertion ;
And then how he swims,
Oh! my eyes and my limbs ! Through the waves like a porpoise he gallantly skims; Skims, though indeed he's as tired as can be, And longs for the aid of humane Captain Manby.
When his boots he takes off,
For he's fearful of cough,
And this being done,
He lies down in the sun, Not feeling the least disposition for fun;
Where in less than a minute, He's soundly asleep as a thrush or a linnet,
And remains in that state,
'Till awaked by the prate Of some parrots, next morning, at half after eight.
BEGINNING A DAY-PLEASANT LOOK OUT-CONSOLING REFLECTIONS-ASSEMBLING A COUNCIL-A DISCUSSION, NOT
BOOTLESS-SOUR GRAPES-A LIGHT DINNER-A DULL EVENING-BEDTIME-A STATE OF SUSPENSE.
A council, which well as the best of them suits, Mr. President Crusoe, his hat, and his boots.
Soon as Crusoe arises, refreshed by his sleep (Though his bed was not soft, yet his slumbers were deep,
Ne'er on straw pailliass,
Nor on curled hair mattrass,
first care, When he thinks where he is, and the way he came thereIs to survey
He gets to the top of a rising ground,
Plenty of trees,
For preserving the peace,
But if not—why, odds life!
He feels much perplexed,
As to what he 'll do next,
Many councils, indeed, are composed the same way
A president who
Adopts his own view,
When they sadly complained,
The state and the people whose monarch he reigned,
And freely discussed them, he makes up his mind
That, as 't was his fortune the island to find, He should henceforth comprise it within his dominions ;
That the kingdom, of which he has thus occupation,
But no, 'Tis no go,
It would make a man look very meagre and squalid,
He just gives a yawn,
And strolls out on his lawn,
He walks to and fro,
He tries all the shore,
What a terrible bore (Not a boar; had he met one 't would be much mistaken, If it thought that from Crusoe 't would then save its bacon): But a desperate bore, not to find any shell-fish.
He thinks of a bird,
But the notion's absurd,
He would like to stop
At some pastry-cook's shop;
Now it is no joke
Crusoe does n't well see how to finish his "day;"
He can't go to the play,
To his grief and dismay, For his disposition at all times is gay.
He has no evening papers
To drive off the vapours, He can't see the Standard, the Courier, or Globe,
And that evening's Sun
Has its course nearly run. His position would ruffle the patience of Job. In vain does he ponder—in vain scratched his head, He has nothing to do but to go-to his bed.
Go to his bed—this is all very fine,-
'Tis true on the grass
He last night did pass, For which he now thinks he must have been an ass; When he only reflects that some horrible beast Might have made on his pitiful carcase a feast,–
And though no such dread
Had entered his head,
Yet now he 'll take care
That no jackall or bear,
A position not perfectly easy 't is true,
GETTING OUT OF BED-A WELCOME SIGHT-A NAVAL INTERMENT-A GATHERING-ARCHITECTURAL IMPROVEMENTS
HOME MANUFACTURES–DOMESTIC DISTURBANCES-ALARMING OCCURRENCE-RESOLUTION.
Next morning, at six, Mr. Crusoe awakes,
Then looks on the sea,
And much to his glee, Sees the wreck of the vessel in which he set sail, Just driven ashore by the force of the gale. And soon as he's down he goes off to the wreck,
Where, stretched on the deck,
His enjoyment to check, His captain he finds-whom he takes by the neck,
And mournfully raising him up from the plank,
He picks all the locks,
And when he has made up a pretty good store,
He sets off for shore,
Robinson having made daily a trip,
And piling his trunks in a snug situation,
But it is not the thing
For an absolute king,
With plenty of land
Besides, ready at hand, And labour for nothing, both at his command ; And what is moreover quite pleasant and funny, Having neither to pay window-tax nor heath money ; With a foresight becoming the very shrewd head of his, He builds up a mighty magnificent edifice ; Eight bed-rooms, a drawing-room, parlour, and kitchen,
With stables and coach-houses, all very fine,
And a cellar for coals, and a vault for his wine, And a dog-house for keeping his Newfoundland bitch in; And not being bless 'd with a family yet, Resolves, save one parlour and bed-room, to let