I had now been in the isle twelve months, and I thought it was time to go all round it in search of its woods, springs, and creeks. So I set off, and brought back with me limes and grapes of the finest kind, large and ripe. The little valley on the banks of which they grew was fresh and green, and a clear, bright stream ran through it, which gave so great charm to the spot as to make me wish to live there. But there was no view of the sea from this vale, while from my house no ships could come on my side of the isle and not be seen by me. Yet the cool, soft banks were so sweet and new to me that much of my time was spent there.

In the first of the three years in which I had grown barley, I had sown it too late; in the next it was spoiled by the drought; but the third years crop had sprung up well. Few of us think of the cost at which a loaf of bread is made. Of course, there was no plow here to turn up the earth, and no spade to dig it with; so I made one with wood, but this was soon worn out, and for want of a rake I made use of the bough of a tree. When I had got the grain home, I had to thresh it, part the grain from the chaff, and store it up. Then came the want of sieves to clean it, of a mill to grind it, and of yeast to make bread of it.