Robert Gray was a Riverdale boy, and a very smart one too. Very likely
most of my readers will think he was altogether too smart for his
years, when they have read the story I have to tell about him.
Robert was generally a very good boy, but, like a great many persons
who are older and ought to be wiser than he was, he would sometimes get
very queer notions into his head, which made him act very strangely.
He was born on the Fourth of July, which may be the reason why he was
so smart, though I do not think it was. He could make boxes and carts,
windmills and water-wheels, and ever so many other things.
Behind his father’s house there was a little brook, flowing into the
river. In this stream Robert had built a dam, and put up a water-wheel,
which kept turning day and night till a freshet came and swept it into
the river.
His father was a carpenter, and Robert spent a great part of his
leisure hours in the shop, inventing or constructing queer machines, of
which no one but himself knew the use; and I am not sure that he always
knew himself.
On his birthday, when Robert was eleven years old, his oldest brother,
who lived in Boston, sent him a copy of Robinson Crusoe as a birthday
present. Almost every child reads this book, and I suppose there is
not another book in the world which children like to read so well as
this.
It is the story of a man who was wrecked on an island, far away from
the main land, and on which no human being lived. The book tells how
Robinson Crusoe lived on the island, what he had to eat, and how he
obtained it; how he built a boat, and could not get it into the water,
and then built another, and did get it into the water; about his dog
and goats, his cat and his parrots, and his Man Friday.
The poor man lived alone for a long time, and most of us would think he
could not have been very happy, away from his country and friends, with
no one to speak to but his cat and goats, and his Man Friday, and none
of them could understand him.
Robert Gray didn’t think so. He read the book through in two or three
days after he received it, and thought Robinson Crusoe must have had a
nice time of it with his cat and his goats, and his Man Friday.
He was even silly enough to wish himself on a lonely island, away from
his father and mother. He thought he should be happy there in building
his house, and roaming over his island in search of food, and in
sailing on the sea, fishing, and hunting for shell fish.
Then he read the book through again, and the more he read the more he
thought Crusoe was a great man, and the more he wished to be like him,
and to live on an island far away from other people.
“Have you read Robinson Crusoe?” said Robert Gray to Frank Lee, as they
were walking home from school one day.
“Yes, three times,” replied Frank; and his eyes sparkled as he thought
of the pleasure which the book had afforded him.
“Well, I’ve read it twice, and I think it is a first-rate book.”
“So do I; and I mean to read it again some time.”
“How should you like to live like Robinson Crusoe, all alone on an
island by yourself?” asked Robert, very gravely.
“Well, I don’t know as I should like it overmuch. I should want some of
Jenny’s doughnuts and apple pies.”
“Pooh! who cares for them?” said Robert, with a sneer.
“I do, for one.”
“Well, I don’t. I would just as lief have oysters and cocoanuts, fish
and grapes, and such things.”
“Without any butter, or sugar, or molasses?”
“I could get along without them.”
“Then there would be great storms, and you would get wet and be cold.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Suppose you should be sick--have the measles, the hooping-cough, or
the scarlet fever? Who would take care of you then?”
“I would take care of myself.”
“Perhaps you could; but I think you would wish your mother was on the
island with you in that case,” said Frank, with a laugh.
“I don’t believe I should; at any rate, I should like to try it.”
“It is all very pretty to read about, but I don’t believe I should like
to try it. What would you do, Robert, when the Indians came to the
island?”
“I would do just as Robinson Crusoe did. I would shoot as many of them
as I could. I would catch one of them, and make him be my Man Friday.”
“Suppose they should happen to shoot you instead; and then broil you
for their supper? Don’t you think you would ‘make a dainty dish to set
before the king’?”
“I am certain that I could get along just as well as Robinson Crusoe
did.”
“Perhaps not; every one don’t get out of a scrape as easily as Robinson
Crusoe did. I know one thing--I shall not go on any desolate island to
live as long as I can help it.”
“I think I should have a first-rate time on one,” said Robert, as he
turned down the street which led to his father’s house.
The next week the long summer vacation began, and Robert read Robinson
Crusoe through again from beginning to end. He spent almost all his
time in thinking about the man alone on the island; and I dare say he
very often dreamed about the goats, the cat, the parrot, and Man Friday.
He used to lie for hours together under the great elm tree behind the
house fancying what a famous Crusoe he would make; and wishing he
could be cast away upon a lonely island, and there live in a cave, with
a cat and a parrot.
It was certainly very silly of him to spend the greater part of his
time in dreaming about such things, when he ought to have been thankful
for his comfortable and pleasant home, and the company of his parents,
and his brothers and sisters, and for all the good things which God had
given him.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Off for the Island.]