killed, and for a lampwick I used some shreds of rope. This made quite a good lamp.

I began to fear that I should lose all account of time, and I must prevent this if possible. I therefore set up a post on which I marked with my knife these words: "I came on shore here the 30th of September, 1659."

On this post I cut a notch each day, every seventh notch being as long again as the others. The first day of every month I made a notch as long again as the longer one, and thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly and yearly record of time. At the end of one year, I counted my notches and there were three hundred and sixty-five, so I had made no mistake.

II

As soon as possible, I had planted some corn and rice, and by this time I had quite a crop, but nothing in which to keep it. What was I to do? When I was a child I used often to go to a basket maker's at home, for I took great delight in watching him at his wicker work. Very eager to learn, as boys usually are, I would often help the man as

much as he would allow. This was now of great service, for I knew how to weave together twigs and fibers of wood. In this way I made all the baskets that I needed.

There were on the island great quantities of lemons, limes and grapes. I used all these when fresh and the grapes I dried, making raisins which are excellent food.

I had succeeded in taming some wild goats and kids, and now I had plenty of milk, butter and cheese. I caught a parrot also which later became a great comfort to me, but it was long before I could teach him to talk.

"Robin, Robin,

One day I had been away from home longer than usual, when returning I was startled to hear my name called loudly in the woods: Robin Crusoe, poor Robin Crusoe. Robin Crusoe? Where are you? Where are you? been? How came you here?"

Where are you,

Where have you

I held out my hand to honest Poll and called him by name. Quickly he came and sat on my thumb, laying his bill close to my cheek and all the time talking to me-Poor Robin Crusoe-and where had I been and how did I come here?

THE PRINT OF A MAN'S FOOT IN THE SAND.

It happened one day as I was walking on the beach, that I came suddenly upon the print of a man's foot in the sand. This was a great surprise to me, for I knew there was no one on the island. The dwellers on the mainland, who were probably savages, must have been there. I resolved to fortify my tent and cave, and to keep a strict watch.

I did not want to make a fire lest they should see the smoke. So I burned some wood under the turf, as charcoal was made in England. This gave me fuel without smoke for cooking my food.

Some time after this, I saw several savages mooring their canoes by the shore. They seemed to be

leading a captive, who suddenly escaped their hands and ran toward me with all his might. I leveled my gun and fired. The savages turned at the sound and fled to their canoes. I never saw their faces on my island again.

The poor fellow whom I had rescued came creeping up to my feet. He tried to show how grateful he was to me for saving his life, and he was eager to serve me in every possible way.

I called him Friday, because it was on a Friday that I rescued him. He was a brave, loyal fellow, very obedient and quick to learn. He became a real friend and was a great comfort to me.

Friday and I thus lived happily and comfortably together for several years. At last, we sighted an English vessel which was passing at some distance. By firing my gun I made signal to the ship, and a boat was sent to the shore. The captain was very willing to take us aboard and so after an absence of twenty years, I once more saw my native land.

My man, Friday, would never leave me. We went several times to the island after this, and had many adventures. Of these, I Of these, I may, perhaps, give a full account hereafter.

DANIEL DEFOE. Adapted.

COLUMBUS

Far away across the wide ocean lies the beautiful land of Italy. Look upon the map, and you will easily find the city of Genoa, close beside the sea. Here was born nearly five hundred years ago, a little boy who became a great hero. His name was Christopher Columbus.

This little boy was the son of a poor man, whose business was to comb wool and to prepare it for the weavers. Little Christopher was sent to school where he learned to read,

THE BOY COLUMBUS.

to write and to draw. He liked to study arithmetic and geography, and to read stories about other countries.

After school he would often go down to the sea, for he loved it dearly. He liked to play about the ships and to listen to the sailors who told him many a strange and wonderful tale. He longed to be a